#The beautiful merciless lady

[mote-historie]

George Barbier, detail, La Belle Dame Sans Merci (The beautiful merciless lady), La Gazette du Bon Ton, 1921.

[spider-stark]

LADY STRONG

Benjicot Blackwood x Velaryon/Strong!Reader

Summary - Stuck in the Riverland's on a marriage tour, you pretend to be Lady Strong when Benjicot Blackwood doesn't recognize you as the Princess of the Seven Kingdoms

Warnings - none except not edited!!

Word Count - 3.1k

!MINORS DNI!

// masterlist // send me your thoughts // comments & reblogs appreciated! //

As if the prospect of a marriage tour was not horrid enough, your first stop was proving to be positively dreadful.  

You had imagined the lands surrounding the Trident to be beautiful. A lush, verdant landscape—filled with fragrant herbs and bright, blooming flowers, painting the Riverlands in rich, colorful hues. You pictured babbling streams and plush grass, stunning castles and, perhaps, some equally as stunning men.  

What you hadn’t imagined, however, was the weather.  

Even from within the confines of Riverrun—the ancestral castle of House Tully—you still feel the effects of the merciless heat beating down upon the sandstone walls.  

Your handmaids had tried to dress you accordingly, stuffing you into your thinnest—and, consequently, your least regal—gown, in hopes that it might prevent sunstroke. Yet still, even as three of Lord Tully’s own servants try fanning you while you sulk in the dining hall, you feel as though every inch of your body is drenched in sticky sweat.  

“This is miserable,” you groan to Ser Lorent, the Kingsguard who had been assigned to your tour. Flanking your right, you spare the knight a pitiful, sidelong glance. “I believe I would sooner die a spinster than be forced to live in this sweltering purgatory!”  

The servants, haphazardly positioned around the table, remain utterly stone-faced, not letting on if they found your comment about their homelands to be humorous or offensive.  

Ser Lorent merely laughs. “The Riverlands are known for their humid summers, princess.” With a wink, he adds, “If you ever bothered with your studies, you would know this.”  

“I study!”  

“With the blade, perhaps,” Ser Lorent muses, his teal eyes twinkling with lighthearted mockery. “But certainly not with books, princess.  

Rolling your eyes, you slump further into your chair, your body practically melting into the upholstery. “Leave the geography lessons to Jace,” you tell him, waving an idle hand. “After all, he's the heir to the Iron Throne. I am merely the prized broodmare—” focusing on your plate, and the half-eaten lunch upon it, you try swallowing the bitter tang now filling your mouth—“a royal womb to be sold off to the highest bidder.”  

And, at times, you aren’t even sure if that is considered an honest truth… You’ve certainly never felt royal.  

Like your brothers, you were born extraordinarily plain-featured. With no silver hair or lilac eyes, you appear more like a common-born peasant than someone of prized Valyrian stock—and it didn’t help that, unlike your brothers, you had no dragon, either.  

Ser Lorent watches as you absently push a piece of seared cod around your plate, sighing. “That isn’t true, my princess.” His words are tinged with sympathy. “You are being sold to no one. Your mother wishes for you to have a marriage born of love—not duty.”  

“Ah, yes,” stabbing the fish with the prongs of your fork, you bring it to your lips, “which is why I’m being forced to spend my summer meeting with the haughty sons of fat country lords—for love.”  

His tongue clicks with disapproval. “Your mother has given you a choice in selecting your own husband, princess; which is a luxury not granted to many women.”  

Frowning, you pop the piece of fish into your mouth, turning his words over in your head.  

Gods.  

You hate it when he’s right.  

“Fine,” you relent, still chewing. Turning sideways in your chair, you raise your fork to him in a mock threat, “But my earlier statement stands! If I must take a husband, then it certainly won’t be anyone from here—lest I become no more than a puddle of sweat.”  

Ser Lorent cracks a smile at you. “Should you turn to a puddle, princess, then I vow to mop you from the floor.”  

“How valiant of you, Ser Lorent,” you laugh. “I’m unsure of how I might ever repay you for such loyalty.”  

“I’m not sure you have to worry about that, princess—I don’t believe that puddles are much concerned with matters of debt.”  

Turning back to the table, another soft laugh spills from your lips. “I suppose you’re right, Ser.”  

All too soon, however, your amusement begins to fade. A warm breeze blows in through the many open windows lining Riverrun’s dining hall, the stifling air only accentuating the stickiness of your skin.  

Sucking in a deep, heavy breath, you ask, “How long do we have?”  

Ser Lorent doesn’t ask for clarification, knowing almost at once what you were asking him. “We’re expected back in the Great Hall in a little under an hour, princess.”  

You blow the breath out, groaning slightly.  

An hour—that's all the time you had left before you would be forced back upon the dais, expected to once again smile and be cordial as men and boys from all across the Riverlands made their case for your hand.  

How many of them could possibly be left? This morning alone you had met with dozens upon dozens of them, their voices all blurring into a monotonous hum as they spoke of the history of their Houses—if one can consider nonsensical legends from the ancient Age of Heroes as true history, that is.  

Noticing the dreadful pall cast over you, Ser Lorent clamps a comforting hand on your shoulder. “How about a walk before we go back? It might help to clear your head,” he suggests. Then, with a wry grin, “Perhaps you might wish to think back on the men from this morning—see if any of them might make you change your tune about life in the Riverlands.”  

You pin him with a playful scowl. “There’s not a man alive that could change that tune,” you vow. “But you’re right—a walk might be nice.”  

Rising from your seat, the servants around you lower their fans, silently dismissing themselves.  

“Will you be accepting my company on this walk?” Ser Lorent teases—though you know what he’s really asking is: will you be accepting my protection.  

“After this morning, I believe I’ve had enough company for a lifetime.”  

The knight’s brow draws tight, an apprehensive frown beginning to pull at the corners of his lips. You roll your eyes.  

“Oh, don’t worry so much, Ser Lorent. It gives you wrinkles,” you tease. Adjusting the slit running along one side of your dress, you reveal the dagger holstered on your thigh. “I assure you that if any of these Riverlanders dare lay a hand on me, they’ll lose some fingers.”  

Ser Lorent snorts, head shaking. “It’s not you I worry about, princess,” he jokingly admits. “Just stay close by, understand? Your mother will have my head if anything happens to you.”  

“Yes, yes—understood,” you dramatically gripe, already walking past him to the exit.  

“Oh, and princess?” He calls out just as the guards pull the doors open for you to leave. You glance over your shoulder at him, brows lifted. “At least try not to injure anyone.”  

With one last roll of your eyes, bright with mischief, you shout on your way out, “No promises, Ser Lorent!”  

Wandering through the outer yards of Riverrun, the blistering sun beating down upon your skin, you find yourself overwhelmed by a sudden ache in your chest.  

You miss home. Desperately.  

You miss Dragonstone’s near-constant cover of clouds, forever shielding you from the heat. You miss the cool breeze rolling in off the Blackwater, the air peppering your cheeks with salty kisses.  

But even as you dream of a reprieve from the muggy Riverlands, you can’t help but miss your family—your brothers—most of all.  

Perhaps it is that feeling that led you here, to the training yard, guided by the familiar lull of splintering wood and steel slicing through the air, the sound offering a much-needed remedy to the homesickness twisting in your gut.  

Smaller than the one at Dragonstone, Riverrun’s yard was no more than a cramped stretch of dusty-dirt, lined with old training dummies and archery targets. Mostly encircled by the towering sun-bleached stones of the castles, only a small part of the yard remained open to the sprawling gardens beyond, sectioned off by ornate iron fencing.  

Striding over the open gate, your attention falls upon the lone boy standing in the yard's center.  

As the sunlight beats down overhead, long shadows dance around his feet as he glides through a set of movements—each step calculated, every strike deliberate.  

You step closer, keeping your steps light as you approach. With his back turned to you, you watch as sweat drips down his neck, glistening. It soaks into his tunic, the thin black material clinging to his lean, muscled back.  

He’s talented—you think, studying his form.  

Talent is something you're familiar with—intimately. You were raised around warriors—trained by the Rogue Prince himself. Yet never before had you found yourself so utterly bewitched by a fighter.  

He didn’t move like other boys.  

He wasted no time on the flowery style displayed by so many summer children—the ones who thought of battle as a performance rather than a matter of life or death.  

Instead, he moved with the lethal prowess of an apex predator—his blade cutting through the air with a controlled ferocity that, while lacking the flourish of other warriors, was undeniably impressive.  

Dirt flies as he throws himself into another set of movements—a series of strikes and parries, executing with unbelievable precision. With every twist and pivot, muscles tense and shift beneath his tunic, his body as powerful a weapon as his sword.  

He lunges forward—and wood cracks! as he slashes his blade along the belly of one of the dummies, a move that would have disemboweled a living opponent.  

Cutting through the sudden stillness, you bring your hands up to your chest, filling the yard with a slow clap. Back still turned to you, the boy's spine goes ramrod straight at the unexpected sound.  

“Impressive,” you muse, taking another step towards him. Mere feet remain between the two of you, now. “You move well—better than most, I’d say.”  

The boy spins around to face you, his once elegant movements now blundering as he nearly trips over his own feet. Biting your tongue, you try to hold in a laugh.  

Big, storm-cloud eyes meet your gaze, pinning you in place as he blinks, visibly thrown-off by your presence. “Sorry-” he stammers, out of breath. “I didn’t think anyone else would be coming out here-”  

You lift a hand, cutting him off with a smile. “Oh, no—don’t apologize on my account! I enjoyed the show,” you tell him. “Seems that you have a real talent for swordplay.”  

His cheeks flush, his lightly sun-kissed skin turning a stark crimson. “Thanks.” His laugh is a nervous, awkward thing—endearing, too. He sticks a hand out towards you, the other still limply holding his sword. “Benjicot. Blackwood,” he introduces himself, fumbling over his words, “but you can call me Ben or Benji—or anything, really.”  

You take his hand, biting your lip to mask your amusement. “Pleasure to meet you, Benji.”  

A beat of silence passes before confusion finally tugs at his features, his hand falling back to his side. “Uhm—” another sweet, awkward laugh— “and you are…?”  

Realization dawns on you, leaving your brows to shoot up to your hairline.  

Seven Hells. He doesn't know, does he?

A sudden speechlessness grabs hold of your tongue.  

You suppose you shouldn’t be surprised—after all, you aren't what many expected of a Targaryen princess.

Plain-featured and dressed in thin, common clothes, you imagine you likely appear no different than the servants surrounding you at lunch, fanning you to keep the heat from going to your head.  

Even so, it's rare that you met someone who doesn't know who you are. And, selfishly, after a morning filled with insincere compliments from haughty Lord’s, you like the idea of remaining nameless—titleless—for the first time in your life.  

“Wow—sorry—that was thoughtless of me, wasn’t it?” Tapping a finger to your temple, you laugh. “I’m Mylissa,” you lie, stealing the name of one of your handmaidens. “Mylissa Strong.”  

“Strong?” He echoes, brow furrowing. “Strange—you don’t sound like you’re from the Riverlands. Your accent is—”  

“Southern?”  

Benji nods.  

“Well, I’ve spent the better part of my life in the Crownlands, so I suppose I’ve picked up their accent,” you explain. “I’m here with the princess, actually—as her lady-in-waiting.”  

The mention of the princess—you—turns his skin a pasty white.  

Keeping a tight leash on your curiosity, you try not to sound too intrigued when you ask, “And what about you? Raventree Hall is a decent ride from here, is it not?” On horseback, the ancestral seat of House Blackwood was two days away from Riverrun, if not three. “Are you here to meet with the princess?”  

Benji shifts his weight, leaning from one foot to the other. “Supposed to,” he begins, his words tumbling out, “but I don’t know—I’m not so sure that I’ll go through with it.”  

Your expression falters, disappointment washing over you like a cold wave, combatting the intolerable warmth of the sun.  

“Why not?”  

He shrugs—a timid, shy gesture that feels so unlike the predator you had snuck up on. “There are over a hundred men in there,” he waves an arm to the castle, to the Great Hall within, “all waiting for an opportunity to impress the princess—meanwhile, I can hardly get out a single sentence without choking on my own spit.”  

Your laughter bubbles up involuntarily, a few giggles spilling past your lips. The Blackwood boy shoots you a playful glare from beneath long, dark lashes.  

“Well,” you begin, absentmindedly toeing the dirt between you, “perhaps the princess might find it endearing, don’t you think?”  

Benji scoffs. “Doubtful. I mean, think about it!—she’s a princess!”  

Your eyes widen, glimmering with mock-offense. “And what is that supposed to mean?”  

Once again, that crimson tinge returns to his skin, crawling up his neck, this time.  

“I meant no offense,” he defends himself, mistaking your expression for one of a Lady meaning to defend her princess. “But what could I possibly offer a princess?”  

You tilt your head, pretending to think on his words. “Well, the Blackwoods do have a history of being valiant warriors, do they not? And you seem to be quite skilled yourself,” you say, daring to let your stare drift down to his arms, the short sleeves of his tunic revealing well-muscled, sweat-slick biceps.  

He snorts. “I’m willing to guess that the princess would likely care naught for my skill with a sword.”  

“Then you would guess wrong,” you retort, a faint, teasing smile on your lips. “Many say that the princess herself is quite skilled with a blade—I imagine she would quite like a boy that’s capable of challenging her.”  

Benji’s eyes darken a shade, an unreadable expression crossing his features. “And what about you, Mylissa?”  

The false name catches you off-guard, but you do your best to hide it.  

“What of me?”  

A bit nervous, he asks, “Would you like a boy that can challenge you?”  

Your heart stutters in your chest—skipping several beats as his stare lowers, dipping past your waist and falling upon your thigh. On the dagger sheathed there, no doubt.  

Heat begins to crawl up your neck, hotter even than the sun's blistering rays. “Oh—” You stutter, words lost upon you.  

It’s true that you were used to the attention of men. After all, your morning has been filled with it, and soon enough the rest of your day will be, too.  

But this was different.  

Benji wasn’t giving you attention because you’re a princess, a mere royal womb to strengthen his House’s bloodline. Rather, he was doing it simply because he wanted to—a feeling that was utterly foreign to you.  

Wiping a clammy hand on his sweaty tunic, Benji misreads your silence, taking a half-step back. “Apologies, my Lady—that was too forward and-”  

You don’t let him finish his rambling. Taking a step forward, you close the gap he sought to create between you. “I’ll make you a deal.”  

“A deal?”  

You nod. “As you know, the princess will be in the Great Hall for the rest of the evening, holding court with the other Lord’s who’ve come for her hand. I'd like for you to meet with her.”  

Benji cocks his head, confusion crinkling the corners of his eyes. “I truly mean no disrespect to your princess, my Lady, but I was asking if you might be interested in–”  

“I know what you’re asking, Benji.” You lift one shoulder in a casual shrug. “And after you meet with the princess, if you still wish to inquire about my hand,” you say, placing a palm to your chest, “then I will happily hear you out.”  

In the distance, a bell sounds out—signaling the time, you realize.  

“If you’ll excuse me,” you start, already taking a few small half-steps backwards. “I’m expected inside.”  

Letting his sword drop to the ground, Benji lunges forward to catch your wrist. “So you agree to meet with me after court, then?”  

“If you’re still interested,” you muse, a tinge of anxiety laced through your tone, “then yes.”  

The corners of his lips twitch into a bashful smile. “I give you my word that–”  

You planned to interrupt him. To tell him not to make oaths he wasn’t certain he could keep, knowing that he may very well change his mind about you once he realizes who you are—that you’re not technically a Strong. But, before you can, another voice intervenes.  

“Princess!” Ser Lorent calls out, exasperated, as he walks through the gate. “We must hurry, princess,” he continues, pausing only to give a wary glance at Benji’s hands wrapped around your wrist. “We’re late.”  

Your pulse begins to pound, a surge of adrenaline coursing through your veins at being exposed as a liar by Ser Lorent. 

Benji’s face goes blank—then his eyes go wide, big as saucers as you snag your wrist from his grip.  

“Princess...” He utters, voice laden with disbelief. “Princess?!”  

You can hardly bring yourself to do anything other than grin stupidly at him, nearly stumbling over yourself as you back-up to where Ser Lorent is waiting impatiently.  

“It was lovely meeting you, Benji!”  

You hope he can hear just how genuine your words are.  

“I’ll see you in the Great Hall,” you call out over your shoulder, sparing him one last glance as Ser Lorent guides you to the gate, watching as he blinks in astonishment, still processing the revelation.  

Walking back towards the inner-castle, Ser Lorent glances down at you with a knowing look. “You seem giddy.” There’s a teasing glint to his words that makes you roll your eyes, cheeks flushing. “So,” he continues, his brisk pace never faltering, “does this mean that your statement from lunch no longer stands? That, perhaps, this sweltering purgatory may yet grow on you?”  

You bite your cheek, a permanent grin still etched onto your face.  

“Let’s just say that I’ve decided it’s best to keep my options open, Ser Lorent.”  

a/n - you may ask yourself: lainie, why would you refer to him as mostly BEN in the last fic and BENJI in this one??

and the answer? I have not ONE clue. my brain is rotting and benji is cute.

anyways, hope you guys enjoy this one! feel like I got to explore more of his personality here. additionally, I need HBO to know that if this boy ends up not being benjicot blackwood then I'm gonna fucking riot

benjicot blackwood tag list - @a-song-for-ages @ghostinvenus

[br0kenangel]

𝐔𝐆𝐋𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆: 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘝𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘫𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘙𝘩𝘢𝘦𝘯𝘺𝘳𝘢 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘈𝘦𝘨𝘰𝘯, 𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘙𝘩𝘢𝘦𝘯𝘺𝘳𝘢'𝘴 𝘵𝘸𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘺 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵.

The sun was bright and merciless as it shone over King’s Landing, illuminating the grand corridors of the Red Keep. Y/N was in her chambers, meticulously inspecting herself in an ornate mirror. Her silver hair was a masterpiece, styled in elaborate braids that framed her face like a crown. Her gown, a deep crimson with intricate black embroidery, clung to her figure in all the right ways, emphasizing her undeniable beauty. Jewelry adorned her neck and wrists, glittering with every movement, adding to the aura of perfection she worked so hard to maintain.

She tilted her head slightly, scrutinizing her reflection. "Absolutely perfect," she purred, a smirk playing on her lips. "As usual."

A knock on the door interrupted her self-admiration, and she sighed dramatically, already irritated by the intrusion. "What is it now?" she called out, her voice dripping with annoyance.

Ser Harrold stepped into the room and bowed. "Princess Y/N, His Grace requests your presence."

Y/N rolled her eyes. "Let me guess—it's about that little crying evil again?"

"His Grace insists, my lady." Ser Harrold replied, his tone polite but firm.

Y/N sighed, flipping her hair over her shoulder with an air of exasperation. "Fine, fine. Let's get this over with, then. I have better things to do than cater to a toddler."

As they made their way through the grand halls of the Red Keep, Y/N’s heels clicked sharply against the stone floors. Servants bowed low as she passed, but she barely spared them a glance.

When they reached the nursery, Y/N paused just outside the door, crossing her arms over her chest. "I don’t see why I must suffer this," she grumbled. "He’s just an annoying little demon, constantly crying and demanding attention."

"Princess," Ser Harrold said gently, "he is your betrothed."

"Betrothed," Y/N repeated with a sneer. "To a child who still soils himself. How utterly delightful."

The door opened, revealing Viserys cradling a squirming, red-faced Aegon in his arms. The toddler was in the middle of a tantrum, his cries echoing off the walls.

"Y/N, my beautiful daughter," Viserys said, relief evident in his tone. "Aegon has been fussy all morning, and I thought perhaps seeing you might calm him."

Y/N rolled her eyes. "Wonderful. I suppose I’m to be a nursemaid now."

The nursemaid approached cautiously, holding out the still-crying Aegon. The child’s face was blotchy with tears, his little arms flailing in distress.

"I do not want to hold that little—" Y/N began, her tone full of disdain, but before she could finish, Aegon’s cries abruptly stopped. He looked up at her, his violet eyes wide with curiosity, and suddenly, his tiny arms reached out, making grabby motions toward her.

Y/N stared at him, unimpressed. "What does he want?"

"He wants you to hold him, my lady," the nursemaid said, a hopeful smile on her face.

Y/N sighed dramatically, clearly annoyed, but reached out anyway. Instead of cradling Aegon gently, she lifted him by his armpits, holding him at arm’s length like he was some dirty rag. "You look disgusting," she informed him flatly.

Aegon’s lower lip trembled, his eyes welling up with fresh tears. Y/N groaned, rolling her eyes. "Oh, Seven Hells—fine!" she snapped, pulling him closer to avoid another tantrum.

As soon as he was within reach, Aegon’s tiny hands reached out and cupped her face, his chubby fingers patting her cheeks with surprising gentleness. Y/N stiffened, but before she could pull away, Aegon babbled in a soft, sweet voice, "Pwetty! Pwetty!"

Y/N’s scowl faltered for just a moment as she stared at him in disbelief. "Annoying and loud, but at least you’ve got good taste, I suppose," she muttered, begrudgingly impressed.

Aegon giggled, his entire face lighting up with pure joy. His small hands moved to her hair, tangling in the silver strands, his laughter bubbling up like the sweetest music. Y/N wanted to push him away, to demand he stop, but there was something disarming about the way he looked at her, his eyes wide with admiration and awe.

"Pwetty!" he repeated, his voice full of innocent delight as he continued to play with her hair.

"Yes, yes, I know," Y/N said with a sigh, though she couldn’t help the small, almost reluctant smile that tugged at her lips. She sat down on a nearby chair, placing Aegon on her lap. He immediately began to tug at the ribbons on her gown, his little fingers fascinated by the shiny fabric.

"I’m not a toy for you to play with," she remarked, her tone sharp, though she made no move to stop him. His small fingers played with her jewelry, his eyes wide with wonder as he babbled softly to himself.

Y/N glanced down at the boy, who was now contentedly settled on her lap, still cooing and playing with her dress. She couldn’t help but let out a small, reluctant chuckle. "You’re lucky you’re not that hideous," she said, more to herself than to him. "But don’t think for a second that this means I like you."

Aegon responded with a bubbly laugh, his chubby cheeks dimpling as he grinned up at her. He rested his head against her chest, snuggling into her as if he belonged there. Y/N rolled her eyes, but her hand instinctively moved to rest on his back, patting him gently as she muttered under her breath about how this was a complete waste of her time.

"Don’t get used to this," she warned him, her tone firm. "I’m not here to coddle you."

As she looked down at Aegon, who was now happily playing with the rings on her fingers, she couldn’t help but feel a small flicker of something close to affection, though she quickly smothered it. Aegon looked up at her, his eyes wide with adoration, and babbled once more, "Pwetty!"

Y/N smirked, shaking her head. "Yes, yes, I’m pretty. But you," she said, her tone returning to its usual sharpness, "you’re just an ugly little thing."

Aegon blinked up at her with wide, innocent eyes, clearly not understanding her words but somehow sensing her tone. His little face crumpled as if he might cry again, and Y/N sighed heavily, rolling her eyes to the heavens. "Oh, don’t start that again," she snapped, but before she could say more, Aegon reached up and patted her cheek again, this time leaning in to give her a slobbery, baby kiss.

Y/N stiffened, utterly horrified. "Did you just—" she began, but Aegon giggled, clearly proud of himself, and nestled back against her, his little arms wrapping around her neck.

She stared at him, utterly exasperated. "You are the most annoying little creature in all of Westeros," she muttered, but when Aegon looked up at her with that wide-eyed, adoring expression, she couldn’t bring herself to push him away.

"Fine," she grumbled, letting out a dramatic sigh. "You can stay for now. But just this one time, and don’t you dare think this means you’ve won me over."

Aegon simply giggled, resting his head against her chest as he snuggled into her even more, utterly content. Y/N huffed, rolling her eyes, but a small, almost fond smile played at the corners of her lips despite herself.

"Ugly little thing," she muttered again, though her tone was softer now, her fingers gently stroking his hair as he dozed off on her lap.

Part 2 ♡ Part 3 ♡ Part 4 ♡ Part 5 ♡ Part 6

@ 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒. 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚, 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒆𝒃𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔.

[lilbunnis]

❛ ♡. header credit. ⎯⎯ 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲. ❜

★ ⎯⎯ aemond targaryen has always wanted someone as his own; and with him already having claimed his vicious mount vhagar, the queen of dragons herself--- what is there to stop him from claiming you, too?

author’s note᛬ heey! 🍓 so……this is my second time posting this particular story--- however, it was a long time ago & someone anonymously requested to read it again. happily, i offered to repost it for them (with the exception that i re-edit it since my style of writing has changed / improved!) … anyways, reblogs & comments are deeply appreciated. ♡ + both aemond & reader are equally unhinged. <3 mwuah !

warnings᛬ mdni! smut, dubcon [kind of… but trust me, it’s wanted], dark!aemond, profanity, she/her pronouns, afab reader, innocence kink, corruption kink, coercion, manipulation, pussy whipped!aemond, breeding kink, cunnilingus, fingering, obsessive & possessive behavior, pet names, romance, fluff. any grammatical errors are my own--- in advance, i sincerely apologize.

word count᛬ 2.5k

𝐎𝐇, 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔, 𝑭𝑶𝑹 𝒀𝑶𝑼, 𝐈’𝐃 𝐃𝐎 𝑨𝑵𝒀𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑵𝑮.

aemond targaryen has always thought of her as his--- his to protect, his to care for, his to love; ever since he’d met her, he surrounded himself in her feminine presence, around her sweetness and innocence, keeping her close by and never letting her trail very far out of his sight.

unless, of course, it was absolutely necessary, and even then, he’d have one of his most trustworthy guards (loyal only to him) follow her around all day--- discreetly, of course.

however, during their short time apart, the one-eyed prince would be on constant edge; irritable and in a foul mood throughout the time that they were apart, not being able to trust anyone to truly protect his lady the way he knew he could.

oh, how he missed his dearly beloved so--- so much so, that the wayward prince was known for his brutal lashings and merciless beheadings (all a gift to his love) to all of those who merely breathed the wrong way in his proximity.

or simply, sweet gifts of pretty, sparkling sapphires and pearls.

still, he knew that she thought his temper and rage was charming, as she had once told him in that sweet, gentle little voice of hers, soothing his fiery temper as if she were the maiden reborn.

like his own little angel, so delicate, tender-hearted and mine, aemond thought.

sometimes, most of the time, aemond would just simply gaze at her, at her beauty, longingly; like she was the center of the universe and held all of the twinkling stars in the night sky.

most people wouldn’t dare to believe such a thing, but aemond thought it was cute when she learned something new in philosophy, excitedly wanting to share the new knowledge she’d learned from her septa with him--- even if he already knew, just to be able to listen to her sweet, angelic voice.

oh, and on those simple days, content to just listen to her babbling on about whichever subject she deemed of interest; he would lovingly hand feed her fresh strawberries, one by one; the ripest, juiciest and sweetest ones, listening as she breathily moaned in content as each one entered her pouty mouth.

meanwhile, as his little darling continued on about whichever subject interested her at the moment; the one-eyed prince watched in delight as the red juices dribbled down her chin, allowing him to quickly swoop in and kiss it delicately away, causing him to hum in content at the sweet taste.

whether it be from the strawberries themselves or the sweet taste of her skin, it mattered not to the prince--- because the next moment, he would drop to his knees and feast on her delicious, drooling cunt; burying himself right beneath her fluffy skirts as he heard her girlishly moan and whimper for him, as he continued enjoying the taste of her maidenhood.

on lazy days, the prince will sit with her in his lap, one of his strong, lean arms wrapped snugly around her waist, most protectively; meanwhile, his free hand would slip beneath her fluffy skirts and play with her virgin, soaking cunt, teasingly stroking his long, calloused fingers through her wet, puffy folds.

seven above, and the sounds of her soft, breathy little moans, almost luring him to bend her right over the wooden table in the back of the library and rut into her like some wild, depraved beast, claiming her maidenhead as his.

‘twas almost too much to bear for the prince, knowing she was already his in body, mind, heart and soul.

he always imagined what she must taste like that day, right before he would feast on her cunny, almost to tease himself--- like freshly baked sweet tarts, spoonfuls of honey, strawberries…

late at night, while in the privacy of his own chambers, he’d furiously fuck his fist to the thought of burying his face between her smooth thighs once again, wanting nothing more than to taste and fuck her cunt with his tongue greedily; before he’d come so fucking hard in his hand, his seed coating the skin of his taut abdomen and dripping down his fingers--- sticky and messy and entirely spent.

sighing heavily, aemond would barely resist the temptation to exit his chambers and go straight to hers, knowing she’d welcome him with an open heart and open legs.

…fuck, what a waste of his seed, he thinks, for he could’ve pumped her empty womb full of his seed; fuck load after load inside of her, and come by morning, she would already be carrying his son in her belly.

rightfully so; she’s be so beautiful, so fragile, so obedient, a perfect little wife she’d be for him, indeed.

meanwhile, back in the library, aemond would continue teasing her little cunny, occasionally dipping the very tips of his fingertips into her little virgin fuck-hole, feeling how fucking tight she was for him, causing him to harden almost painfully inside of his leather breeches, right below her squirming, little ass.

like his very own wanton, silk street whore.

she continued to moan and whimper repeatedly; making him gently shush her with delicate kisses across her neck, spreading her dripping arousal all around her swollen bud, hearing her mewl his name like a prayer and grip the polished library table forcibly, watching her blissed-out face until she came all over his fingers.

when he made her come so hard with just playing with her little bundle of nerves, he had to slap a hand over her mouth to muffle her cries of pleasure and whisper sweet praises into her ear, knowing how sensitive and needy she was in his arms, just after coming down from her peak and making her come so hard on his fingers.

of course, the more time he spent with her, the harder it was to resist her--- and so, most nights, when aemond could no longer resist being away from her; the need to see her being just too much for him to bear any longer, he’d eagerly seek her out, knowing she’d be in her chambers, awaiting his arrival.

just as eager and wanton as he was, it seemed.

smirking, aemond chuckled softly, embracing her; “my sweetest, my darling, my little love--- fuck, i have missed you.”

he couldn’t control himself anymore, he needed to see her, to be with her, to have her.

always.

specifically, in the late hours of the night, wanting to be as close to her as physically possible; fuck, he loved her so much, he didn’t ever want her to doubt his love for her--- he stripped them both of their evening clothes, his amethyst eye dilated and wild at the sight of her nude form.

during those private evenings, aemond had convinced her for him to claim her as his… fully, in the ways only a man could claim a woman.

with his persuasion, his silver tongue easily convinced her into saying yes; causing him to release a purr and claim her body multiple times that night, until she was a shaking, sobbing and sweaty mess beneath him, full of loads of his seed, while he held her tightly against him in his arms--- possessively.

uncaringly, the prince left all sorts of love marks all across her skin, kissing every inch of her soft, glistening skin that he could reach, suckling on her swollen, puffy nipples, knowing her plush breasts would soon grow heavy with milk for their many babes that’d come someday soon.

selfishly, just maybe; he could persuade his little darling for a taste for himself--- fucking hells, he couldn’t wait for her to grow round and fat with his sons!

insatiably, he would fuck his already hardening, leaking cock back inside of her sopping cunt, his and her own moans of pure love and ecstasy echoing off of the walls of her chambers.

however, even with all of the bliss and pleasure and love; still came her doubts and worries.

his sweet lady, his precious love, his only girl--- was utterly terrified of someone finding out about their affair.

however, the fearsome, bloodthirsty dragon prince would always reassure her; whispering sweet words of his love and devotion into her ears, calming her by kissing her love-marked skin before he would fuck her squelching cunt once again with his cock, ploughing into her mercilessly, filling her with another load of his seed, until tears would stream down her blushy cheeks.

unable to stop herself, she’d let out the most feminine moans for him, not being able to control her sweet mewls from escaping her kiss-swollen lips, sobbing out deliriously as he continuously fucked her ruthlessly, uncaring of who heard them; for the one-eyed prince was too addicted to the taste of her and the pretty, precious sounds she made just for him.

it wouldn’t matter anyway, if anyone were to find out about their love affair--- aemond genuinely honestly couldn’t give a fuck if someone were to tell her lord father that her maidenhead was claimed by him anyone.

if anyone would dare to question his lady’s virtue or purity, he would cut out their tongues, before mercilessly killing them and feed their mutilated corpse to his mighty beast, vhagar.

aemond had always been a possessive man, especially when it concerned his sweet little lady, to the point that most of the noble lords and ladies of the court started to take notice; however, the fearsome prince paid them little attention--- nowadays, his only concern in life was his darling little bride.

some days, when the weather was warm enough and the sun was shining brightly, aemond would take his lady on long walks around the red keep’s royal gardens, right after he finished his morning training session with ser criston.

as always, it was just the two of them, together; and while he watched her instead of admiring the pretty flowers that she seemed so smitten by, he couldn’t stop the tiny grin from spreading across his face at just the mere sight of her.

her, her, her.

his--- his lady, his woman, his wife.

there was a secret, hidden alcove surrounded by various cherry trees and gorgeous pink peonies, which aemond would often bring her to visit; it was almost as if it was their special spot.

then, without warning, aemond would gently press her back up against one of the trunks of the pretty, blossoming cherry trees, kissing her so sweetly, so passionately, so tenderly; it made her swoon and see constellations on the backs of her fluttering eyelids.

“marry me.”

suddenly, she felt as if her heart had suddenly stopped beating and she felt rather faint--- for a moment, her heart felt as if it had skipped several beats, because surely… her sweet aemond did not just ask the impossible of her?

again, aemond spoke.

“marry me,” he murmured against her soft, perfumed skin (that smelled of the lavender oils they’d previously bathed in that morning together) trailing open-mouthed kisses along her sensitive neck, causing a breathy whimper to escape her pretty, pouty lips.

instantly, aemond’s ears had perked up to the sound of her breathing that was quickening, his large hands roaming and grasping at her sides as if to soothe her sudden panic, enjoying the feeling of her womanly curves against his big hands, even through the silk fabric of her pretty, sapphire colored dress.

“hmm…no,” she drawled lazily, though her sweet voice was teasing, “—my father is suspicious enough already about all of the rumors going on about us…he doesn't ask, of course; i’m afraid it’s because he is too frightened of you,” she giggled softly, batting her long eyelashes up at the handsome prince.

aemond smirked, amused by his little darling.

“besides,” she continued softly, her usual sweetened voice saddened and aemond watched as his lady’s heart was visibly breaking right before his own eye, “—my father… he will arrange a betrothal for me soon and i must do my duty, as is expected of me,” she whispered, while gently twirling a few strands of her lover’s long silvery hair around one of her fingers, her face sullen--- like a little girl having her favorite treat taken away from her.

aemond hummed; a soft, dangerous sound as his face remained stoic, not displaying a single emotion that he was currently feeling--- his natural-born eye on the other hand…was a raging storm of a dark, angry violet, screaming promises of fire and blood.

“that'll never happen,” aemond murmured softly, his voice a raspy baritone, completely unbothered, “—if your father even dares to try and take you away from me, he'll suffer a most painful death; i assure you, my sweet lady.”

her heart fluttered, both of her cheeks heating up and her head began to feel fuzzy, a dreamy expression forming on her pretty face; though she wasn’t sure if it was from the warm weather or by his loving, murderous words.

“you're so sweet,” she cooed dreamily, smiling up at him as she wrapped both of her arms around his neck loosely, her fingers gently brushing through more of his long silvery hair, feeling how silky-smooth the strands were--- curtsey of the queen, his darling mother; a sweet gift of scented oils she had gotten for her favorite son all the way from pentos.

“only for you, my beloved,” the prince promised, tenderly brushing his knuckles along one of her rosy cheeks, bending down towards her shorter height and capturing her rouge-stained lips in a sweet, deeply passionate kiss--- a deep, throaty sound of lust escaping from him.

ah, she tastes of the sweetest of innocence and strawberries.

his favorite.

‘twas as if the prince could never get enough of her taste, of her.

sweetly, she releases a little whine, high-pitched and so needy for him; the sweetness of a poisonous kiss--- oh, how he wants to love her forever and bathe in all of the glorious love she had to offer him.

gods, he loved her… only, only, only her.

“my angel, so soft and pure, so innocent; and your precious heart… it is mine,” he growled, deepening the kiss against her lips--- his large, warm and calloused hands began trailing down to cup her sweet, little ass through her skirts, bundling the silky, sapphire colored fabric in his greedy hands to fondle and squeeze the soft flesh of her asscheeks; pinching and clutching possessively.

grinning wolfishly, aemond trailed his open-mouthed kisses down her delicate neck, suckling freshly new love marks into her fading, bruised skin--- all across her neck, jawline, collarbones and the very tops of her soft, perky breasts.

“marry me,” he asked once again, sounding impatient, though he wouldn’t mind begging, if it only meant claiming her for himself.

she wrapped her arms around his neck more snugly, standing on the tips of her toes to kiss him sweetly, all across his chin and the corners of his mouth, feeling his hands roam freely all over her once more before settling still, giving her backside a loving squeeze.

“be my wife,” he pleads once more, his tone of voice more desperate than ever before, sweet as sugar and the burning flesh of corpses.

she released a small sigh, moving closer just slightly so that she could brush her saliva-coated lips softly against his own, “yes,” she breathed lovingly, feeling as he visibly shuddered against her just from her mere acceptance of his begging proposal.

“i’ve always been yours.”

fin.

[aphroditelovesu]

Yan!Apollo w/Reader!Daughter of Yan!Hera Headcanons (Romantic)

��� ☀️ — lady l: this headcanon is based more on Hera's POV than Apollo's, but I hope you like it anyway. This ask was thought of and I can do a second part if anyone wants! Good reading and forgive me for any mistakes! ❤️

❝tw: obsessive and possessive behavior, jealousy, offenses and hatred, bouts of jealousy, unhealthy relationships, mention of war.

❝🦚pairing: yandere!apollo x reader!daughter of yan!hera.

No one knew how you ended up in Hera's arms, but everyone knew you were hers. Some said that you were found by her when you were a small child, others say that you were taken by her after she cursed your parents after they had offended her in some way and other versions say that you were her and Zeus's daughter. No one knew the exact origin and it didn't really matter, because you were hers and always would be.

Hera is known for being vengeful and possessive, jealous of Zeus's lovers and anyone who crossed her path. And that jealousy passed on to you as you grew into a beautiful young woman. Your mother wouldn't let anyone near you and when you reached marriageable age, Hera became more suffocating than ever.

She would never let her little girl get married or be defiled by any man. Whether mortal or god, no one will lay hands on you. Hera swore to herself that you would never be touched or hurt as long as she existed.

Apollo has always had an interest in you. He always liked you but never had the real chance to get to know you, not with Hera hovering over you all the time. The god didn't know why but he wanted to get to know you better, to get closer. You attracted him, maybe it was because of your immense beauty, he didn't know, but there was something about you that attracted him like a magnet and he needed to know what it was. So he waited for an opportunity to get closer to you.

And this opportunity arrived in the best way possible. You were finally allowed to wander around Olympus for a bit, without having your mother glued to your side. You begged her if you could go out alone for a bit and Hera gave in very reluctantly. As you wandered through some gardens, Apollo was sitting near a statue of Zeus, playing his lyre and singing something in a low voice. You cautiously approached the god and crouched near a hyacinth bush, hiding and watching him in wonder. Apollo knew you were there, but he didn't stop singing and playing, wanting to impress you.

When he stopped singing and playing, Apolo stared blankly at the bush where you were hiding. That was when you knew you had been caught. You stood up awkwardly, smoothing out your rumpled dress and stammering out a weak apology. You knew it was wrong to spy on others, especially a god. To your surprise, Apollo laughed and approached you, telling you that everything was fine and he didn't mind being watched by a beautiful lady like you. You blushed and smiled at his words and that was the beginning of a beautiful romance.

After this meeting in the garden, you and Apollo began to meet more often, all hidden from your mother's jealous eyes. You found yourself more and more attracted to this god and Apollo more and more in love and obsessed with you. You were perfect in his eyes. Benevolent and merciless in just the right amount, a daughter of Hera indeed. You would be a perfect wife and Apollo found himself more and more eager to ask you to marry him, but he was no fool, he knew that Hera would never accept. So he wouldn't ask her permission, but rather his father.

Apollo went to meet Zeus and told him his wishes, that he would like to marry you, leaving his father at an impasse. Zeus would like to allow you to become his son wife, but Hera would never allow it. And she was the goddess of marriage, getting married without her blessing wasn't the right thing to do. But Apollo didn't care and when Zeus reluctantly gave his permission, he knew what he had to do.

One night, Hera was by your side as you tried to fall asleep. Like the caring and patient mother she was to you, she kept you company until you fell asleep. As you fell asleep, Hera left the room and locked the door like she always did. You woke up a few minutes later and opened the window, allowing Apollo to enter. Once in your room, Apollo kissed you and got down on one knee and asked you to marry him. Your heart raced and before you could think, the words ''yes'' left your mouth and you were in Apollo's arms, kissing him passionately. You were so focused on each other that you didn't hear the door open until Hera started screaming.

Hera had known something was wrong for weeks. She suspected but had no proof that you were seeing anyone, until that cursed night. She left your room and waited for a few minutes, wanting to make sure you didn't have a lover, the thought made her sick. When she heard voices coming from inside your room, Hera unlocked the door and quickly walked in and she saw red. All she felt in that moment was hate, pure rage seeing you in the arms of a bastard of a husband. Hera had never been so sorry that she hadn't been able to kill Apollo when he was still in his whore mother's womb. How dare he tarnish you? Her pure princess? She was ready to kill him.

Apollo pushed you behind him just as your mother started screaming. This sight only enraged her further. It wasn't enough that he dishonored you, he still wanted to keep you away from the only person who would always love you. You flinched at your mother's screams and Apollo's eerie calm. When Hera finally stopped screaming, she tried to get closer to you but Apollo wouldn't let her. Just as Hera was about to curse him, Zeus stormed into the room furiously and demanded to know what was happening. Hera couldn't explain how furious she was and Apollo was very calm. Zeus looked at you and when he saw the ring on your finger, he knew what had happened. Curse that Hera had discovered that way.

Zeus tried to calm his wife, but his attempts were frustrated and he had to impose himself so that she and Apollo did not start fighting physically or trigger a war. Apollo just said that you and him would get married and that Hera would have no right to interfere, not when he had the blessing of the King of Olympus. Hera let out a scream of rage and all this fury was diverted towards Zeus, leaving the god in trouble. Hera was screaming at her husband and demanding answers, how did he have the nerve to let his bastard son get his hands on you? Hera doesn't remember feeling as much hatred towards Zeus as she did at that moment. Zeus remained silent, trying to remain calm while being insulted by his wife. When she finally stopped yelling at him, she turned to talk to you and you were no longer there.

Apollo had taken you. Hera fell to her knees and uttered curses. Zeus just watched her with remorse. She got up and sat on your bed and grabbed your pillow, in an act of fury, she tore it and her green eyes were filled with hatred. She would destroy Apollo and anyone who got in her way until you were safe and sound in her arms. She was ready to start a war, use her son, Ares, to destroy the world to bring you back. She swore these words and Zeus, for the first time, was speechless.

[ne-videl]

𝓾𝓷𝓮𝓺𝓾𝓪𝓵 𝓶𝓪𝓻𝓻𝓲𝓪𝓰𝓮

♡

yandere Poseidon x fem reader

hide your tears and smile, little goddess.

yandere, unhealthy relationships, objectification, angst, power imbalance, depressed reader, forced marriage, poor english, sfw. first half – Poseidon's pov, then yours.

word count: ~1.5k

a/n: hii everyone!! how have you been? I have no ideas. like, absolutely. art block I guess?? anyway, have some of my old stuff. this is my least favorite yandere trope, but I love angst, so sometimes I go for it. by the way, when I first started it, I wanted to write a super idolized fluff but... well, we have what we have, or "why you don't want to marry Poseidon". hehe big booba man hehehe

the endless ocean is noisy outside the huge windows.

today, the sea sings a memorial service for you.

two people at the altar – the god and his bride.

Poseidon wants to smile rapaciously at her shaking figure.

she's afraid, poor thing. who wouldn't be afraid? he is, after all, the god of all gods, known for his cruel and merciless temper, the lord of the seas.

and she will become his lady very soon.

[name].

her name spreads like ambrosia across his lips.

even her name is so ordinary, so human, as, indeed, everything else about his charming wife.

she was a priestess in Poseidon's temple: in his own, so there's nothing wrong in taking what was already his. he noticed her by accident.

[name] was sitting hunched over, touching some bright flowers with her bruised palms. he liked to visit this temple sometimes: it was quiet and peaceful in the atrium, noisy humans did not flicker before his eyes.

little human girl did not even flinch when he silently stood next to her, only continued to look with big and very sad eyes at the colorful flower bed.

at their second meeting, she greeted him.

at the third time, she dared to start an idle conversation.

the fourth, and she talked about life in the temple.

at the fifth time she asked why he was coming here.

Poseidon always stood silently next to her, looming over her like a suffocating shadow. he was amused by her chattering, and, unexpectedly for himself, found her presence soothing, pleasant, unlike other humans, the mere sight of whom made the eye of the deity twitch.

life was bad for her in the temple.

[name] told him, she was sent to this place when she was still a girl, and she spent her whole life by the cold blue sea.

new head of the temple did not like her, saying that there was nothing for women to do here. that she should get married, but who needs her?

Poseidon saw the marks of beatings on her girlish body.

so he took her with him. she served in temple made in his name, spent her short life at his domain – it is quite natural that she will become his wife.

of course, it is unheard of that god marries a human – but does he really need someone's approval?

ʚ♡⃛ɞ ______

Hades advised to propose to her. it's the way humans do it.

Poseidon did not ask for her consent, for him it was just a formality: of course she would say yes, he was sure.

he will dress her in the finest silks, she will own the most beautiful jewels on all Olympus, the sea itself would be at her feet – how could a human girl want more?

smile spreads across his face as he sees her eyes widen, as she begins to shake – no doubt, from embarrassment – and his palm rests protectively on top of her head.

of course she agreed, how could it be any other way?

his fiancee is incredibly sweet. but weak and naive at the same time, like the rest of the human race. but he will protect her, give her a better life.

she must be very grateful to him.

ʚ♡⃛ɞ ______

Poseidon remembers their wedding well, how [name] looked in amazement at the beauty of Atlantis, at the greatness of his seas.

in white robes, with downcast eyes, she swore an oath binding her life forever to a cruel deity, accompanied by singing of nymphs and the sound of the ocean.

she was now a goddess herself, whether she wanted to or not. of course, she wanted to, it couldn't be any other way. she loves him.

and, as the new lady of the seas, she will spend her now eternal life by his side. Poseidon will make sure of this no matter what.

she fearfully puts her small palm into his, while he, her husband, leads her through the corridors of the palace. [name] is silent. probably still embarrassed.

from now on, she will be the most beautiful ornament of his possessions, the shining pearl of Atlantis – his precious property, belonging only to him. and the sparkling ring on her tiny finger was proof.

ʚ♡⃛ɞ ______

"wife." – [name] immediately turns around, smiles, comes closer.

his hand rests on her waist, his grip firm, possessively strong. she doesn't notice.

or pretends not to notice.

over time, [name] got used to him, cheered up, blossomed. it couldn't have been any other way, right?

songs, dances appeared, bright flowers and ringing laughter in the cold and empty corridors.

she became friends with his brothers, was able to conquer the proud Aphrodite, whom she now called her friend with visible joy.

Poseidon is pleased to consider himself a good husband.

he loves to see his wife smiling, laughing.

even if it's not just with him. it's better to be patient for a while, he thinks, than to lose her cheerful chatting for the whole evening.

though, she's cute even when she's angry.

Poseidon was gentle with her. allowed her much, much more than others, even spoiled her. [name] was his wife, after all, so he had to make sure she looked good enough.

he's a good husband.

[name] never contradicted him, never raised her adorable voice at him, never was not too selfish.

although deep down, he would like her to become more spoiled. so that, like him, she would not tolerate anyone's presence, except, of course, her husband.

to think of it, why would she need anyone besides him? she can be quite happy within the walls of the palace.

Poseidon dismissed these thoughts from himself – for some reason, his wife liked to be in society, even if without him.

well, he's willing to put up with her quirks as long as she knows who should come first for her.

ʚ♡⃛ɞ ______

the outfit given by Aphrodite was very becoming to his spouse. Poseidon loved to see her beautiful.

in luxurious clothes, undoubtedly worthy of the wife of a sea god, or in the warm candlelight in the night darkness of their shared bedroom, happy or shedding tears, [name] was equally beautiful.

the precious treasure of Atlantis.

he was never moved by her tears – even if she was crying, of course she loved him anyway. [name] is happy. so why make a big deal about it?

none of the pathetic mortals could take care of her like he did. none of them would love her the way he does.

"you are my wife. you're not going anywhere."

ʚ♡⃛ɞ ______

you didn't tell anyone about your sorrow: didn't share it with anyone – neither with Aphrodite, nor with the nymphs and mermaids, your husband's brothers remained in the dark too.

a little human girl shedding tears by the huge waves.

an unhappy goddess, forever imprisoned in an cold palace, surrounded by hypocritical deities, in the iron grip of an unloved husband, eaten alive by sadness and suffocating hopelessness of her position.

none of them saw you as an equal: you were only a curious little thing, a way to dispel eternal divine boredom, and the Olympians, of course, did not bother to hide this fact.

you didn't know what your husband found in you, and you didn't want to. sometimes you wished that back then, many, many years ago, he would have left you in that temple, or that you would run from the garden in terror, or anything. anything.

ʚ♡⃛ɞ ______

you knew your place well.

by his side, always, no matter what. from the very day when you stood at the altar and did not dare to raise your eyes to your fiance, you were no longer anything human.

from that moment, you became an ornament, a property, a beautiful doll. nothing more.

Poseidon wanted to see you happy – and you smiled, laughed, you did everything that you thought he would like.

are you satisfied? please tell me you're happy. I'm scared.

scared.

your husband allowed you the freedom he thought his property could have, and you greedily soaked up every drop of it.

you're lucky, you told yourself, you're very, very lucky. It could have been worse. any other girl would give her soul to be in your place, – repeated, looking at your own reflection in the cold glitter of jewelry.

you must be like it yourself. a thing. a thing, of course, must have an owner, and a thing cannot be sad.

Poseidon's cold hand rests on your waist, pulls you into his arms, and you do not allow yourself to resist: you exhale into his neck, placing your small palms on his broad back.

your spouse is purring contentedly.

he's happy. you can relax a little.

ʚ♡⃛ɞ ______

sea nymphs comb your hair, weave pearls into thin braids, fold strands into an intricate hairstyle.

"what's bothering you, madam?" – the lady of the seas does not bother to answer, your dead calm gaze wanders over the high ceilings, walls and huge windows of your chambers.

a common topic of idle conversation among the Olympians was Poseidon's boundless adoration for his charming wife. cruel god who fell in love with a mere mortal – what a beautiful story.

even the ocean itself seemed to dote on you. whenever the warm waves caressed your feet on the coast, your dried-up insides were filled with melancholy. your body was here, in Atlantis, which became a prison for you, and your soul, which remained to pain in your chest human, floated far away. your tired mind wandered, and you are a little girl again, and once again the bright sun warms your childishly plump cheeks, and in your hands are colorful flowers, and the kind grandpa from the temple strokes your head.

Poseidon will be coming for you soon – as always.

as always, you will talk about something, laugh, sitting on his lap in the throne room. or in one of the living rooms, or in the bedroom – you were not allowed to leave him without permission.

you flinched when you felt his strong hand on your shoulder.

Poseidon smirked.

his wife is not going anywhere. she will stay with him.

forever.

not the best one of my works but uh well I felt like posting something

maaybe will be deleted since it doesn't look as good as I thought it would be in english

btw thinking about writing tartaglia fic soo the next one is probably gonna be genshin man again

thanks for reading!!

[sukunasdumbestchef]

way how i see you (long story version)

trueform!Sukuna x Blind!fem!reader.

꒰A beautiful woman, with a pleasant life, nothing could get better… However, one unexpected day put you in a horrible situation, your husband beat you to have money and 'honor', putting you in an arranged marriage with the cruel and merciless Ryomen Sukuna. However, you hide a secret, you are blind.꒱

╭ ➤୨୧ Warning: Angsty, Arranged marriage, [name] had a shitty husband. Crap story with crap writing (I have no self confidence <3)

╭ ➤୨୧ Words: + 2,6 what? It looks much bigger when writing…

the other version

bad english.

For obvious reasons, your life changed drastically after your vision got worse, the world around you lost its colors and beauty every day.

Her world became just silhouettes moving around, almost colorless and blurred. But, you were aware of some things, just by looking at the silhouettes, you know how to differentiate an animal from a human, or if someone uses hair accessories. You weren't completely blind, but you were blind enough to be considered blind and have difficulties.

However, you noticed that no one noticed your loss of vision. You continued your life, pretending everything was fine. Your loss of vision became a big secret, which you tried hard to keep, afraid that your life would get worse and you would end up alone.

Today in the village, someone caught everyone's attention, you couldn't see the person properly, but you recognized a male voice. The man informed everyone in the village with his loud and clear voice: "… The King of Curses wants volunteers for a marriage…" These were the words that left everyone's jaw dropped, he continued "… The most eye-catching one will win, and the family will gain reward and honor." And that was it, the entire crowd was speechless, moved by money and the honor of marrying such a grotesque but divine man as the King of Curses. But most of all, the people were afraid to refuse, that the king would get enraged and end their lives and stories in the blink of an eye.

You obviously refused, there are so many other women, all different and talented. You were heading back to your home, but you were stopped by your own husband, a grip your arm. "Where are you going? Didn't you listen to him? You're perfect…" He says, you look at him confused. The husband pulled her back to that man, raising his arm against her will, you try to push him away. "Here! This young lady! The most beautiful! The most intelligent! Take her with you!" Her husband screamed, you pushed him, accidentally hitting him in the face, you successfully let go of his grip. You were going to retort, but people pushed you to follow the girls and the two people.

You can't see anything, the silhouettes will blend together and you won't be able to distinguish the crowd of people. You felt a strong grip on your arm, your eye noticed something light in color and a voice said. "Start walking, we don't have all day." You analyzed where the voice came from, without success when trying to differentiate which gender this voice was from. However, the light-colored clothing made it easier to follow.

You were probably crying already, turned around, seeing only the big gate of the village, you couldn't even see your husband anymore… who literally gave you to another man as merchandise. Eyes filled with tears, which made it even more difficult to see. Just follow the white silhouette, said to yourself.

The walk was completely silent. They walked for around 20 minutes or more, you saw a house… you think… your doubt was answered with the sound of the door sliding, and the silhouettes entering. You listened and counted the steps of others, locating yourself and finding out where the steps would be. You were mentally thankful that it was bright inside, the light and dark tones of people's kimonos were different, as was their hair.

"Ladies, these women are going to help you get ready for the big meeting with the king." The male voice said.

"I hope you are not reckless and disrespectful towards the king, know your place, and only speak if he addresses you…" The person with light hair said, this person sounded colder and crueler than the other guy. But, they was giving you a warning so you don't die because of stupidity…

You followed the other volunteers, it was a pleasant room, you guessed it by the good freshly cleaned smell. All the silhouettes sat on the floor facing each other. You did do the same. You hear footsteps coming your way, a silhouette of… a kimono? Flowery? You kick what this person wears. They sit in front of you, "Good afternoon, lady. I'm here to help you dress up formally and beautiful for the king's presence" sounds like a sweet old woman. You smiled, and greeted her.

"Good afternoon ma'am, I appreciate the help" You really appreciate it, it would be a great difficulty to put on makeup and pretend to see clearly.

"Alright, let's begin. The king will come soon…" The woman quickly begins to put white powder on her face, and she touches her lips with a reddish tone. "There, you're very beautiful, my lady…" You felt flushed with the compliment.

"Thank you, but is that all I need to look beautiful in front of the king?" You ask, you actually don't care… you just wanted to get out of here, but… you have no choice.

"The king said he preferred it this way, so he would have a clear view of their natural faces… but, I'm sure he doesn't care." She answered him, giving a small laugh as she stood up. You got up and she helped you put on a Jūnihitoe.

Despite the compliments murmured by the old women, the happy noises from the other volunteers for also wearing a jūnihitoe. You have a huge desire to see yourself wearing this outfit, it wasn't the first time, you wore one like it at your wedding. But, despite the compliments you receive… You didn't see all the details, colors or designs on the fabric. With that all the sadness mixed, you came back to reality… Your husband 'sold' you and you are volunteering to marry the cruelest curse… and what will happen if he doesn't like you?

"You have sad eyes." A whisper from the sweet lady made you come back. You removed the water from your eyes with a finger. "You are so beautiful…. I hope you change that king's cold heart. But even if he doesn't choose you as his wife, maybe you can be a maid or something…" She said, as if it was a good thing.

"No… I'm sure that won't happen." You replied, your voice cracked in the sentence.

"Why?" She asked.

"My eyes are no good… normal people already leave me aside because of that… I imagine he'll throw me away like an animal." You explained, not directly saying it, but it seems that from the small gasp of surprise you heard, she understood.

"Oh, my poor girl… Are you blind? This… is horrible… You can't…" She seems lost for words, but you already anticipated a reaction like this. Before you could speak, the door opens.

"In positions, now. The King of Curses is here and wants this to happen quickly." Someone said, probably the person with white hair. You all took a stand. The sweet woman helped you and whispered:

"I have hope in you." Your expression softened upon hearing the woman's sweet and motivating phrase, even if you don't know her. You really needed that, some comfort.

But that warm feeling in your heart turned into creeps and an overwhelming fear throughout the body, as if you were going to die. Your breathing becomes irregular, thinking if you make one small mistake, everything will result in your dead body on the floor.

Your keen addition hears heavy footsteps in the distance, approaching. The door slides open, making your body shake in harmony. Was it him? You couldn't say, but you looked up for a moment, it was a huge silhouette, you felt a thunderous and terrifying presence and aura. It was him, definitely. The king, Ryomen Sukuna, was in the same place as you.

Swallowed dryly, you felt your throat catch in the process. Your clothes started to itch. You nearly screamed when you felt a poke on your arm.

"Slowly lower yourself to the ground and bow in respect to the king, without eye contact."

That sweet woman whispered to you. Then, you get on your knees, and place your forehead on the floor, your body as close to the floor as possible. Soon after, the entire room becomes silent.

"Get up."

A husky voice spoke to all of you. it was a dark and haunting melody tone worthy of a merciless king that everyone must obey and fear.

At the same moment everyone got up. You hear a snap of fingers that causes a scream from one of the voluteries, a large fall was heard and another followed. Your eyes popped out when you heard the terrible noises, your mind had already formed a terrifying scene. Moving only your eyes, you peeked in the corner of your eye, everything was even more blurry, things started to mix up and you couldn't differentiate

You felt a thousand things at once. Your mind and heart are racing, your entire body is shaking, even your teeth, your eyes are watering, but you hold on, not being able to let even a single tear fall.

Sukuna's large silhouette approached, you could hear the cries of one of the volunteers. Her crying was cut short, replaced by another fall.

"How dare you look at me without permission? Stupid woman… died like the other two. Am I wasting time?" Sukuna complained, giving you goosebumps. They really died…dead, by doing…nothing.

Keeping your head slightly lowered, you're sure you could die just looking at him, and you're not even sure where you're looking, your tears made everything worse. While you were trying to figure out what was going on, you saw something move. Before you tried to find out, you felt a strong poke on your arm, on the side where the sweet old woman was.

Sukuna stared at you, you heard a light chuckle. "Look at me." he ordered. You lifted your face, thanks to the lights you notice his shadow, he is much taller than you. You find yourself imagining his face, your vision of his face was all mixed tones. "You're pale." You didn't respond to him….should you do that?

You saw something approaching his face, it was a hand but there was something dark on it, like bracelets or something. A light touch on your face, but the hand was big and rough, you denied the possibility of it being his, because you didn't believe he would do that. After that, you felt him put strong pressure on your chin, moving your head to the side.

"You're so scared that you don't even know where you should face…" he laughed arrogantly again, and removed his hand. You remain silent, and you see him move again. "I'll…take this one."

Who? You? She herself couldn't say, she wiped her tears trying to see better, and you felt someone approaching you

"You did it…he chose you…" The sweet old woman told you, which made you open your eyes wide in surprise, gasping. You could see the big smile of the old woman, which made you do the same.

"I didn't even know what happened…I feel relieved, thank you very much ma'am!" You thanked her, but you should now follow Sukuna, before that you and the woman removed the junihitoe, returning to wearing your clothes. The lady accompanied you outside, where it was still light and daylight. The wind made you take a deep breath after a long time of suffocation.

"Now…you're after him…Have a great life, my lady…" The lady said, it seems like she mumbled something to someone, but you were very happy to have lived to pay attention. The lady left, and you waved to her, soon after following the huge silhouette of your newest husband and king.

It was a very silent walk, no one said anything, including you. But, all the events made you exhausted, all you wanted was a nap or something like that. But you feel like this is just the beginning.

Now, lifting your head, seeing the enormous light of the setting sun, saying goodbye to the day. You wanted to ask if you were arriving, it would be difficult to walk in the dark. As you walked, you reached the residence where Ryomen stayed. The king entered without saying anything, you feel he was stressed…

"We're here, now back off" The monotonous voice said, you turned to them, thinking it had been addressed to you. The white-haired person just kicked that man out, and turned to you. "This is your new home, make yourself at home I guess." Now they talk to you, you nod your head, turning inside.

It was very empty…. there was only a candle, you couldn't see anything else.

"I am Uraume." They identified themselves, bending down in front of you. "You must be [name], am I right?" , you nodded again, forcing a smile, Uraume seems not to have done the same.

"Yes…" was the only thing you replied, you feel an awkwardness between you two, honestly, you think that this Uraume shouldn't even be human, they seem to be close to Sukuna however…

The room seemed to get darker, meaning it was harder to see. You look around, nervous. Until Uraume interrupts you: "Do you have… something to tell?" This question made you open your eyes, worrying that you weren't hiding the fact of your blindness much. You quickly shake your head

"No, no… I have nothin-"

"You're lying, forgive my impudence. Do you have vision loss?" They interrupted you abruptly, but they at least apologized to you. The direct and raw question made your body freeze and your jaw drop slightly. It seems like your acting failed…

"N-No.. how… wait"

"The old lady told me. I wanted to confirm by asking you." They explained. You felt like…you were going to die or something, like you had committed a sin… You swallowed and took a deep breath, ready to admit everything:

"Yes…I have…I- I'm blind" You said, feeling the tears "But not completely! I can see you…not now, but… I- I can pretend to see everything' I- don't tell him." You made a desperate mess explaining to them, and you still couldn't even see Uraume's reaction.

"I would tell you, but… I think it's better that you tell him, when you're ready, I advise you to be quick though… My king has no patience, and don't keep any other secrets from him…" Uraume replied, in his voice, It wasn't surprising that his secret was exposed. You nodded, wiping away your tears. "Now…I'm going to guide you to your room, I'm going to make sure to keep it well lit, does that help?"

"Yes…" you replied, feeling their extremely cold hand on your arm, they murmured 'excuse me' and guided you to a room, they helped you sit on the floor. The room was pure pitch black, you could see absolutely nothing. Did you hear them leave, is that it? Will they leave you here alone? Even if-

"Here, these are the only candles we have.." They comeback, and lit the candles, but you still didn't see anything, but… you appreciated their action. They poked you, and handed you a cloth. "It's a newer and cleaner kimono, you'll have to dine next to the king every day. Do you need help putting it on?"

"No, thank you. But I'm going to need help getting to… get to where dinner will be." You explained.

"Yes, I understand. I'll be outside the door, you can call me when you're done." You nodded and heard them leave. Now, you needed to get dressed. It wasn't that difficult for someone experienced like you. You sat on the floor, feeling the kimono, knowing what the front of it was. You got dressed. Now…you're going to face a horrendous moment, having dinner with the king… And worse, you have to find a way to tell him your secret.

Feeling fear cover his entire body, thinking about the possibilities he could do when he finds out. Your hot tears returned, you remained on the floor having your little moment. Until the door opens and:

"[Name], Sukuna wants you there now…are you ready?"

That's it, I didn't continue because I thought it would be too long………..

I have a few things to say:

Thank you very much for the notification, I'm really happy. And I'm not posting anything because I was a little busy with things in life..

[sealinredshoes]

Big Four Month Day 1 : Origins

I'm late for the Big Four Month but here we go. Here are some of my headcanons for a Big Four first meeting because my life is a little shitty righ now and I don't have the time to write this as a one shot

Let's be honest, the time line for the RotBTD crossover is way too complicaded. So you know what ? May the RenFair setting be upon you.

Merida is in her best medieval dress but there is a viking boy staring at her from across the food stand like the autism creature so she leave toward the dance area

They are playing songs from ages long forgotten. Music that makes her feel alive, make her feel like if her body is bigger than her bones, spreading freely toward the sun and the sky like if she had already walked this Earth before and know all of its secrets.

Suddently, boom, she end up dancing with Hiccup kingdom dance style and even if they are weirded out, it feel so natural to keep dancing , because there are old souls in young bodies and an old soul know another

Hiccup eventually apologize for staring at her earlier because he is not a creep he just wanted to steal her Mor'du's pin.

"Dude you know Mord'u ?" "Of fucking course I know Mor'du, it's a classic tale !" "Bro, litteraly no one know Mor'du, there is like nothing made around this tale !" "Bro, I know, that's such a shame !" "My life is in shambles bro." "Mine is meaningless without this pathetic bear king !" "He is such a wet cat." "The stinky"

They keep infodumping over celtic tale and legends, Hiccup explaning why trolls are a matriarcal society, Merida making theories about King Arthur's return. They go buy crepes and keep talking with their mouth full, being use as a bad examples for the kids around them.

The Mor'du pin is actually just a wooden bear pin Merida customized. She agree to bring Hiccup back to the stand, because this old lady make such cool things.

There is mostly bears, but also some fantasy book pins, and because I like to think Hiccup would be a Terry Pratchett fan, and that selling Discword inspired art is now illegal, he is very happy to find a beautiful Librarian carving, the only one of his kind.

Wouldn't be a shame if some white haired sheperd just came out of nowhere wainting to buy it too ?

It's time for some roast battle with Merida as a back up (making weird faces behind him) (she is very bad at back up) until they suddently realise the pin isn't here anymore and that a girl in a purple princess dress is ready to pay for it and putting it on her bag.

"Okay, no, you have to fight for it like everyone else !" "*gasp*Is this some kind of mexican standoff situation ?" "What ? No ? I don't no shit about cinema theory ?" "Mexican standoff is a cinema stuff ?" "Anyway, when will you three gonna fight ?"

Of course they are not going to fight right here over the old lady stand so they just walk around the Ren fair for seven minutes to find some Hnefatall board to set it up.

The party is so long, everybody is screaming, Rapunzel is pulling the biggest cheating move without knowing it, Jack contemplate his life with horror and Merida is so frustrated some time that she just move the pieces herself.

At some point, they are not just playing anymore, they are making silly scenario about the pawns and pretending to be merciless gods and causing chaos. It's being hours. People hate them because they doesn't share the board. The old lady is gone.

They end up being forced to leave the board to other kids and go find some food, enjoy the fair, spend to much money over costume pieces. Laughing all the way.

Slowly the sun is getting down, they don't think in matter of time anymore, they watch the acrobatic spectacles from affar. Jack is showing of his backflips skills. They found one of those climbing polls at the children area where they can pretend to be knigh in training. There is no kids anymore, they have it all to themselves. Someway Rapunzel end up at the top of the poll.

"Okay, how do I get down, know ?" "How do you get on this on the first place ?" "I don't know okay ?" "I'm sure we can use her hair to help her down." " How exactly, like by knittting it ?" "Or braiding it, like this girl on tiktok, you know ?" "Okay but will this be enough to hold her weight ?" "Guys, can you shut up and just help me ?"

She fall down on them and they are screaming so loudly they end up being kicked out of the fair

The nigh is young, they souls are old, they feel bigger than their bodies, today is meant to never end, they get lost on the parking lot, drip down on the mud, fall all the way down a small hill.

They are tired, and messy, and covered in dirt. This is the best nigh of their lives, they feel like they were born again this night

I hope I will catch up on the list tomorrow, I didn't even have the time to check everyone else work.

[rosieofcorona]

In the Blue Morning

Sharing this gentle little fic here again since the Solavellan girlies (genderless) are so back!!! In my mind I am sliding this across the table to you all. Also on Ao3, if you prefer. As always, thank you for reading! 💕

She cajoles him, some mornings, away from his office, from his maps and his books and his paintings and out among the newly-planted gardens, all their tight, unfurling blooms. 

It’s always empty at this hour, when most of Skyhold is still asleep, save for the guards in their high towers, the recruits in the practice yard. The only sound is the clang of their swords through the mist like distant bells, the only light the pink and gold of the nascent sun.

They have been careful, desperately careful not to draw undue attention, not to generate rumors that could harm the Inquisition in the future. It is easier on the road to find a quiet moment alone– to steal a kiss or hold a hand or put words to their love– but the castle, however safe, is full of eyes, forever watching.

It is only in the narrow, muted hours before dawn that Solas weaves his fingers with hers as they orbit the courtyard, side by side.

He names the blossoms as they pass, first in the trade tongue and then in Elvish, the softened syllables like music on his tongue. She repeats them half as gracefully, but he smiles at every attempt, correcting her gently now and again, praising her efforts.

“Gail’lealis,” he says, pointing out an elegant bellflower, its blue-white petals bundled tightly in green sepals.

It sounds off, even to her ear, when she says, “ Ga’lealis,” back.

They pause for a moment, and Solas turns and bends and plucks an early bloom from the same plant, rotating it slowly between his fingers, holding it up for examination. 

“Ga-il,” he repeats softly, separating the sounds. “Meaning ‘bell,’ in the common parlance.” 

“Ga-il,” she says again, correctly this time. 

“Followed by lealis , meaning ‘glass.’”

“Gail’lealis.”

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, tucking the flower behind her ear, the meaning vague yet all-encompassing. It is all beautiful– the morning, the garden, how she catches the light, his ancient language in her mouth, her mouth– 

Solas kisses her in the empty courtyard, parts her lips with a linguist’s tongue, and she kisses him back again and again as if each time might be the last. He wants to stay like this forever, wants the sun to forget to rise, wants the castle to sleep and sleep in an endless dream.

But the light keeps coming, every moment. The castle will wake, and they will see. 

And this will cost them, in the end. 

She is pink as the sky when they finally come apart, and continue their long walk around. 

“I hear you were out here yesterday,” she says, breaking the silence as they turn a corner. “Cullen says you beat him soundly at chess.” 

“It was a closer game than he thinks,” Solas says, but she has learned when he’s just being modest.

“Must not have been that close, because Bull says the same. As do Blackwall, and Varric, and Dorian, though he swears that you cheated.”  “I did no such thing!” 

When they turn again, the chessboard in question comes into full view, set and waiting on its table beneath an awning. 

“He seemed very certain,” she shrugs. “Though I suppose I could find out for myself.”

They stop again before the table, and Solas looks at her intently.  “Is that a challenge, dear Inquisitor?”

“That depends on your level of skill.”

She’s teasing him now, enticing him, a dynamic he’s come to enjoy. There are so few who impress him with thoughtfulness, who make him work at being clever.

“Very well, but you should know that I am merciless,” he warns, a contradiction to the chivalry of pulling out her chair. “Even to one I love.”

He takes the seat opposite her, the board and the pieces adorned in glittering dew. 

“I believe the Lady Inquisitor moves first.”

He sets a dozen little traps for her, a dozen clever gambits, and she evades them every time, to his astonishment. Where he moves to attack, she counters; where he baits her, she defends or retreats. By the end, with the sun fully risen overhead, they reach a deadlock, both depleted, neither victorious.

“Again?” She asks cheerfully, when they’ve finished. Already she is freeing her captives from his end of the table. “Don’t look so stunned, my love. Unless you’re trying to offend me.”

“Forgive me, vhenan,” he says, shaking his head. “You surprise me as always. It is rare to find an opponent so…discerning.” 

His beloved laughs with the morning breeze, a sound like air that surrounds and envelops him. 

“Rare to find one you can’t beat, you mean.” 

She’s right, of course– it is rare that he loses, even rarer that he plays against someone so evenly matched. He still can’t quite puzzle through it, where he went wrong, where she figured him out. 

He had gotten a lead on her early on, or so he thought– he had taken a tower, a mage, and two pawns– and left his queen open for the taking, which she had entirely ignored. She caught onto him quickly, though too late to win, and when she realized she couldn’t beat him, she had blocked him instead. 

Solas leans thoughtfully back in his chair, replaying their game in his mind. No matter how he tries to beat her, he finds no way through. She sees his scheming, sees him coming, cuts him off. 

“Why did you not take my queen, given the chance?”

“Because you gave me the chance,” she reasons. “You wouldn’t do that except to win.” 

“It could have been a tactical error.”  “It wasn’t,” she says assuredly, resetting the pieces along their battle lines. “If I had taken her, it would have left my king undefended from your mages.”  “You could have moved him.”  “For a turn or two. Then your knight would have circled back. Isn’t that right?” She looks up at Solas, her eyes smiling and sharp, affirmed in her answer already. “Or shall we call that a ‘tactical error?’”

“Mm,” Solas nods his approval. “You’ve become quite the strategist. Have you been spending time with our Commander?”

“I’ve been spending time with you,” she counters. “Learning all your little tricks.”

Not all, it occurs to him, but Solas smothers the thought with a laugh. “It seems to me you have a few of your own.” 

“Our Keeper used to call me harellan,” she tells him. “Trickster. Though I needn’t explain that to you.”

He fights to keep the easy expression on his face, feeling suddenly caught in the snare of her gaze, as if she sees directly through him, sees him fully, all he is.

Harellan, his mind echoes. How could she know?

The wait for her judgment feels infinite, inevitable– but it does not come, and does not come, and does not come. She only moves a white pawn toward the board’s center, the leaves rustling softly around them. 

No, he decides. She does not know. She only means he knows the word. 

Solas mirrors her opening move, their pawns face to face on the battlefield. “And still, your Keeper named you her First.” 

“I was more troublesome as a child,” she says, with a grin that implies that the mischief has never left her. “I’ve settled down a great deal since. Can’t you tell?”

This time, when Solas laughs, there is nothing else hiding beneath it. No uneasy feeling, no great fear that she will discover him, cast him out. There is only happiness for a moment, the war reduced to a board between them, as if sorrow and death are nowhere, and the end of the world is far away.

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Can I please have the Whitebeard pirates with an Mitsuri Kanroji reader? I feeling like everyone would tease Ace for having a crush on her

-You were one of the very few women that Whitebeard allowed in his crew, only because he knew that you could handle yourself. You were a delicate maiden, personality wise at least, being a total girly-girl, but you were a very strong and intimidating warrior, especially with your unnatural strength and that weird ribbon sword of yours.

-When they plucked you out of the sea, after you dropped there due to a blood demon art going wrong, they had no idea who you are or what you were wearing, your strange uniform with your long socks and the sword at your side.

-You looked injured, but when they got to dealing with your wounds, Marco and the nurses were stunned, seeing the condition of your body, as the wounds you had would have been fatal if they had been on anyone else.

-Whitebeard welcomed you to the crew, once you woke up and you had smiled so brightly, happy tears in your eyes that you had a place to call home in his new world, you bowed so deeply thanking him.

-You learned of this new world and the strange abilities some had, called Devil Fruit abilities, but you fit in nicely, as everyone else had oddball skills as well. You found kinship with them, as none of them thought your unnatural strength was monstrous at all- many claimed that you were a catch for anyone, which of course embarrassed you to no end.

-The crew was quite protective of you, as they could see that you were a bit of an airhead, but also a lover- you loved to make eyes at anyone who was strong and goodlooking, which had led to a few incidents of others, outside the crew, who tried to take advantage of you.

-However, you had a hidden savior that your crew, many whom had adopted you, telling you that they were going to be your big brothers now- to protect you, but there was one who actually had feelings for you.

-Funny thing was, he would always get tongue tied around you, turning bright red, and could barely be around you without tripping over thin air!

-Ace was a total sweetie, but the crew was merciless about his crush on you- many claimed it was painful to see him stuttering or fumbling around you.

-You weren’t the brightest either, you liked Ace- finding him strong and handsome, as well as a good person, as you’ve seen him defending others, but you were always confused about why he was the way he was while around you.

-The whole crew could do nothing but face-palm around the two of you, you were both hopeless!

-That day changed when you were going around with Ace, getting supplies at port, when a man grabbed your wrist, “Hey pretty lady- how about we go and have some fun!”

-You easily pulled your hand back, throwing him over your shoulder, before you both realized he was part of another, no-name crew, who were now pissed that you fought back.

-They started making comments on how strong you were, not recognizing you or Ace, claiming that you were like a gorilla and freakishly strong, and how they should go and find a real woman to get with.

-Ace handed you the bags of groceries he had been carrying, not realizing that you had teared up, hearing the words you had heard back in your old world while Ace took care of business easily.

-When Ace came back to you, he froze, seeing you in tears and he panicked, not knowing what to do before he hugged you close, making you gasp, your eyes going wide, “You’re not a gorilla- you’re just Y/N- and you’re a real woman- you’re beautiful and- and…”

-Izo and Marco found the two of you moments later, both of you bright red, covering your faces with your hands which made them exasperated before you all headed back to the ship.

-Later that evening, you sought Ace out, who froze, seeing you there and you smiled down at him, looking a bit nervous, “Did you really mean it- am I really beautiful?” He was stunned by your question, as if you didn’t know exactly how beautiful you were, before realizing that you had some self-esteem issues.

-Ace stood and hugged you again, surprising you, but he froze, realizing what he had done before he nodded his head softly in your shoulder.

-You both didn’t move for what felt like a long while before Marco groaned, “Just kiss her already!!” you both pulled apart, shocked as you both saw everyone staring at the two of you which made you turn bright red again, embarrassed as Ace charged for them, yelling at them as they all laughed- finding the situation hilarious!

[the-fiction-witch]

The Harrenhal Wedding

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Oscar Tully Couple - Oscar X Reader Reader - Y/n Blackwood (Benjicot's Sister) Rating - 15 Word Count - 2952

Requested -

Please make one shot about oscar tully and his fiance ( blackwood) when they meet first time i think that would be really cute

Oscar had been staying at harrenhall since his promotion to lord paramount of the Riverlands, he remains with his river lords as the armies raise and gather. But this morning Lord Simon Strong summons him to the grand hall where lord strong and Prince Daemon sit,

“Morning My lord Strong,” Oscar nodded,

“Morning my lord Tully,” Simon nodded,

“Targaryen,” Oscar snapped in Daemon’s direction,

“Tully.” Daemon glared back,

“What’s all this about anyway?” Oscar asked,

But the door quickly opened to the young Benjicot Blackwood, the new lord of Raventree Hall,

Lord Blackwood stood and bowed,

“My lord Blackwood, a pleasure,” Oscar nodded,

"My Lord Tully, I rode as soon as word reached me .. is it true? My lord uncle? Ser Willem Blackwood, he was executed? Here on your orders?"

“He was, my lord, yes.” Oscar was unflinching with his answer,

"...may I ask why my lord?" He asked,

Oscar sat back in his seat, “Your uncle committed crimes against his neighbours, curel and merciless crimes, his punishment was just. But I do not blame your sadness at this loss.”

lord Blackwood nodded "... I understand, please may I ask his remains be returned to Raventree hall to be laid under our werewood as his forebears?"

Oscar nodded, “Of course, lord Blackwood, I will have them sent to Ravnhall immediately.”

"... please my lord, i- I hope my uncle and his actions, do not sully our families name,"

Oscar shook his head, a slight bit of sympathy in his eyes and tone “You need not worry, my lord” Oscar tried to give the young lord a bit of comfort before speaking again, “His crimes are his own and I assure you his crimes do not sully your house.”

"yes my lord I understand, but... House Blackwood would still like to pledge themselves to your fealty and your war for Queen Rhaynea"

Oscar smiled, standing from his seat and striding over to blackwood, putting a firm hand on the young lords shoulder and speaking in a commanding tone

“That is greatly appreciated my lord,” Oscar nodded, “And I don't have to worry about your loyalty like I did with your uncle, do I?”

"No my lord, and as proof of our loyalty I come with an offer for you."

Oscar raised an eyebrow, slightly amused, his hand still on the boys shoulder “An offer? What kind of offer?”

"... In the riverlands we celebrate our new lord paramount, as much as we grieve your grandfather Ser Grover Tully." Lord Blackwood began "And house blackwood has been loyal to house Tully as our legige lords. And as the new lord of House Blackwood myself I wish to make an offer that would bring great joy and honour on my house as well as faith of our alliance to yours," he nodded "you, yourself Lord Oscar are a young man, unmarried. And I would like to offer my sister Y/n Blackwood to be your bride."

Oscar raised his eyebrows in surprise, slightly taken off guard by the offer. He looked at the young lord for a moment “Your sister.” He thought for a moment before speaking again “She is of age, I presume?”

"yes my lord, she is two years your younger"

Oscar nodded, “And attractive, I'd hope?”

he chuckled "The ravens of raventree hall sing for her, smallfolk of our keep say a beauty like her has not been born in our family since Missy blackwood"

“That's what I like to hear…” Oscar paused for a moment “It's a fine offer, my lord, your sister will make a fine lady of riverrun.. I accept your offer, on one condition.”

“Yes of course, anything my lord,”

“We consummate the marriage as soon as possible.”

"Yes my lord. you - you honour me, my house and my sister. She is with me. You may wed in the sept as soon as you wish and bed her as you see fit. Perhaps the gods shall bless you with a babe in her belly before this war begins its march"

Once again, Oscar was slightly surprised by the young lords quick and eager compliance. He smiled, looking down at the boy, keeping his hand on his shoulder

“The preparations will be made at once... and don't worry, my lord, I'll be filling your sisters belly before the end of the week.”

"we can hope my lord" lord blackwood bowed low

“Very good, my lord.” Oscar smiled, striding back to his seat as the boy left. As the young lord exited the hall, Oscar returned his attention to the prince and Lord Strong who had been watching the pair

“Well, that worked out well.” Lord strong nodded,

Daemon chuckled

Oscar retook his set, looking up at the Prince “What? Got something to say, Targaryen?”

"No man gives his sister away that easily unless there's something wrong with her." Daemon laughed

Oscar chuckled, resting his arms on the table and leaning forward “Or it shows great loyalty and devotion.” “Besides, the boy is young. He's naive. He probably has no idea what she's in for.”

"you are a young boy" Daemon glared

Oscar smirked, leaning against the back of his seat “Only in comparison to you, Targaryen” he glared, “Now…The riverlords have been gathering at harrnehall, it will take a while yet for us to raise our full armies, but we're not far off now. My question is, what shall be our next move?”

"we wait for word from the queen" Daemon glared

Oscar raised an eyebrow slightly at the princes sharp, glare. He took a deep breath before speaking, keeping his eyes focused on the prince, speaking in a low, commanding tone “I'll be blunt, Targaryen, if we wait to long before we strike then the greens will have more time to prepare their armies, and they will be stronger. We need to attack them when they are vulnerable, unprepared.”

"And you wish to march half a River army to kings landing yourself?"

Oscar chuckled, his eyes still focus on the prince. He shook his head gently before responding “That depends, you'd be with me, wouldn't you, Targaryen?”

"I would be on caraxes. Watching you be slaughtered"

Oscar smirked, sitting back slightly in his chair and crossing his legs, still focused on the prince “Ah yes. Your dragon.” He remained silent for a moment, his eyes boring into the princes eyes before speaking again, mockingly imitating the princes voice "I cannot enter any conflict without my precious dragon."

"mind your tongue boy" Daemon glared

Oscar smirked, he didn't fear the prince, not at all. If anything, he saw him as an equal. He sat forward, his eyes burning into the princes “Or what?”

"I think we should uhhh discuss" Simon strong spoke up "if you are to proceed with this wedding my lord..."

Oscar broke eye contact with the prince and looked over to Strong, slightly annoyed that he had been interrupted “What is it, Lord Strong?”

"... House blackwood keeps the old gods, not the seven my lord" lord strong explained,

Oscar nodded, “Yes.. I'd imagine that will be of slight.. issue. And you, Targaryen? What is your view on the matter?”

"Targaryen’s do not hold to any gods. It is irrelevant" Deameon shrugged

Oscar nodded once again, speaking with a mocking, sarcastic tone “Fantastic. So a marriage between a Riverlord, of the faith of the seven, and a Blackwood, of the old gods.” he chuckled, “That will be... interesting..”

"Stranger things have happened my lord, shall we make arrangements for this wedding?" Lord strong asked

Oscar nodded, sitting back against his chair, folding his hands into his lap, and speaking in a more serious tone “Yes. We shall.” He thought silently for a moment before speaking again “But I expect I won't be allowed to consummate the marriage until the ceremony, correct?”

"as is tradition my lord yes." Lord strong nodded "wedding and then bedding ceremony"

The word made oscar cringe, he sighed, that was probably the part he liked the least. He hated the idea of a bunch of drunk men stripping his wife half naked, he hated the idea of other men looking at his wife. It annoyed him. He looked up at strong again “Can we not skip that bit? I prefer to keep my future wife to myself rather than letting your drunken courtiers gawk at her.”

"you can refuse the ceremony if you wish my lord" Simon nodded

"I refused for all three of my wives. The first because I didn't want to inflict her nudity on the men of the runestone. The two others... Because I wanted to strip them myself " Daemon smirked

Oscar smiled, at least the prince agreed with him there. He wasn't alone with his distain of the ceremony “Good. I'll be doing the same then. I don't want anyone seeing my wife like that. I want that privilege all to myself.”

"we shall begin preparing then," lord strong nodded

Oscar nodded “Good. Please, keep me informed with the preparations.”

He stood, gesturing for the other two to take their leave before he himself left the grand hall,

The wedding had been arranged as a quick affair, the armies still gathering at harrenhall, so the wedding would be the riverlords as witness, in the godswoods with a septon, and a small feast in the grand hall. Nothing too monumental but with war looming the time and expense could not be spared for a grand affair

Oscar sat in the Great Hall, He fiddled restlessly with the chalice of ale in his hands, waiting for the marriage ceremony. He couldn't wait to be wed, to finally have a proper lady at his side and a wife to keep the bed warm when the nights grew cold and the war grew long. He was ready to begin life as a married man, and the wait for the ceremony to start was annoying him

lord strong approached and bowed "it is time my lord, the septon stands in the godswoods awaiting the ceremony to begin"

Oscar nodded, standing from his seat and finishing the last of the ale in his chalice “Very well, let's get this over with.” The more impatient voice in him spoke, the one that just wanted to skip straight to tonight. He followed Lord Strong outside and through the godswood,

the riverlords loomed around the godswoods, many of the men in the armies had gathered outside on the rocky ruins to get a view into the godswood, prince Daemon lingered his hand on his sword, a septon stood in front of the werewood tree,

"My lord Tully, the seven has blessed us with a beautiful day" The Septon smiled,

Oscar approached the septon, “They most certainly have, septon.” he nodded, “Now, let us not waste any more time. I shall be a married man before the sun sets.”

the septon nodded and signalled beyond the woods. Hush suddenly came over the lords.

Oscar turned his head, taking a step forward, his eyes focused on the woods behind him, waiting. He took a deep breath, the time was here. The long day of waiting and preparation was over. He was so close to being wed, the feeling was exciting. He focused his gaze and waited for his bride

the doors opened wide and Lord Blackwood stepped out, and on his arm was his sister.

Y/n Blackwood, she was a Y/H and somewhat Y/B/T girl, with a sweet face, tender skin, y/e/c eyes, long Y/H/C styled well, she wore a silvery gown with matching gems about her. A maiden’s cloak of red and black the colours of house Blackwood draped over her shoulders,

Oscar's eyes locked as she entered, taking in the sight of his bride and a proud smile came across his face,

her brother brought her to the tree and she bowed low she was clearly nervous but she still smiled to him

Oscar looked down at the lady Y/n, seeing her bow low to the ground in front his eyes, he smiled, she was beautiful, shy and nervous too. It reminded him of a scared fawn, small, nervous, and beautiful.

the Septon nodded "Who brings this maiden to be wed?"

"I, Lord Benjicot Blackwood of Raventree Hall, Her brother, and her protector." Lord Blackwood nodded "She is a maiden flowered, unsoiled and pure, and I give her willingly for this match"

Oscar felt the pride in his chest once again at the mention of her being a maiden, pure and unsoiled, as a good wife should be.

"Who comes to claim her?" The septon asked,

He took a quick, deep breath and spoke in a steady, determined voice “I, Oscar Tully, of Riverrun, come to claim this lady. Her honour, and her hand.”

lord Blackwood slowly handed Y/n's hand to Oscar letting him feel her soft hand for the first time, her skin was soft but her fingertips were likely from embroidery or other such sewing works, feeling her soft palm against his, his fingers interlocked with hers. He was surprised at the softness and smoothness of her hand, but then again, he should have expected it. After all, she was a noble lady. A small smile spread across his face as he felt the calluses on her fingertips, a stark reminder that she wasn't just a lady, she was a practical and smart girl as well.

Seven vows were made, seven blessings invoked, and seven promises were exchanged, "And now bring her into your house, your home and your protection." The septon nodded,

Lord Blackwood slowly removed the cloak of Blackwood colours from Y/n leaving her to shiver for a moment but,

Oscar took the Tully cloak from Lord Strong and gently wrapped it around her shoulders, fastening it at the front,

she smiled rather excitedly,

"As with the draping of these colours, the maiden sheds her time as a blackwood maiden and is here and now a Tully bride." The septon then took a beautiful woven cord of the colours of house Tully and Blackwood, binding their joined hands in a handfasting knot "in the sight of the seven, I hearby seal these two souls binding them as one for eternity"

Oscar smiled as the septon tied the handfasting knot around their wrists, the seven colours of House Tully and House Blackwood intertwined together. He looked down into Y/n's eyes, her excitement was infectious, and it made his chest feel warm. He tightened his grip around hers, smiling down at her as the septon continued speaking

“Any who wish to challenge this union, this is now your time to speak,” The septon asked, but no one spoke, "you may now speak the words"

"Father, smith, warrior, mother, maiden, crone, stranger..." She nodded slowly given she had only just leant all this "I am his, and he is mine from his day to the end of My days" she smiled,

Oscar nodded, keeping his eyes focused on Y/n. He smiled as he spoke, his voice steady and firm, yet soft and gentle at the same time “I am hers, and she is mine from this day to the end of my days.”

"and you may seal with a kiss my lord." The septon said a little quietly

Oscar smiled, he'd been looking forward to this part. He slowly lifted his hand to her chin, his fingers gently gripping her soft skin. He lifted her face, his eyes still locked with her,

“With this kiss I pledge my love, and take you for my lord and husband,” she blushed,

“With this kiss I pledge my love, and take you for my lady and wife,” Oscar smiled, before leaning down and gently pressing his lips against hers, in a long, soft, but firm kiss

she softly kissed back slightly gasping when loud applause and cheers came from the riverlords, which then triggered a large celebration from the many men of the armies who had all loomed outside the godswoods to watch what they could, even daemeon gave a small applause

Oscar took advantage of the applause and cheers from the riverlords to deepen the kiss, his hand still resting on her chin, holding her face as he pressed his lips harder into hers, his other hand resting on her waist and pulling her closer to him. The cheering was a reminder to him that the entire world was watching, and he wanted to show just how much this marriage meant to him. He ignored his surroundings, and focused solely on Y/n, his new wife. Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, he reluctantly pulled back from the kiss, taking a deep breath as he broke apart. He looked back into her eyes, their faces so close they were almost touching. He smiled, taking in the feeling of her soft skin against his, the sweet, gentle kiss, and the sound of the riverlords cheering in applause.

she softly Giggled when he pulls back her cheeks a little red from her not expecting such a passionate kiss from her new husband,

Oscar couldn't help but smile at her Giggling, her soft, gentle voice making his chest feel warm. He took a deep breath, before gently cupping her face in his hands, his thumb gently brushed across her soft, rosy red cheeks

"then it is and always shall be." The septon nodded as he untied their joined hands, “one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever.”

“You have a pretty laugh, you know that?” he smiled to her,

she giggled again "Thank you my lord"

Oscar smiled again, resting his forehead against hers “Please, call me Oscar. My name sounds far better coming from your lips.”

"... Yes Oscar" she nodded

He smiled, his chest warming at the sound of his name coming from her mouth. It sounded good. He slowly leaned back, gently wrapping his arm around her waist “I suppose we should return to the festivities now, my wife. And you can expect a lot more of that later on as well.”

she blushed but nodded as he lead her through the godswoods passing the lords as they headed inside the harrenhall grand hall.

[thebetawolfgirl]

His Chosen Queen

Pairing: Timmy x Reader

Warnings: Smut, soft Hal.

A/N: I wrote this at midnight so I might be rushed in some places because I was so tired!

His Chosen Queen!

Hal had chosen his Queen, she was the love of his life and had been with him from before he became King, she was there during his wild days as the young prince, although while the other women he went with were more interested in his title, y/n couldn’t care less. He was utterly fascinated with her because she wasn’t hanging onto him like the other women, she would always serve him with a smile, and she would always ask him how he was and he knew she meant it and genuinely wanted to know how he was doing.

When his father passed away, he went straight to the pub to drown his sorrows even though he knew he now had duties as the newly appointed king of England, he just needed some time to himself to process everything, it was very quiet in the Inn and the moment he stepped through the door he felt soft gentle arms wrap around him, and a voice of an angel.

‘I am so sorry, my lord. Your father was a good man and a wonderful King.’

He wrapped his arms around her back, and buried his face in her neck inhaling her unique scent, she smelled of fresh cotton and rose oil, she felt so soft, he thought as she pulled him upstairs and just sat with him on the bed as he cried.

He began inviting her to the castle and spending time with her immediately after his coronation as King, his council didn’t get it. They had tried to recommend several eligible ladies, princesses and Duchesses but the King wasn’t interested in them, he just wanted y/n, so one night after a beautiful meal and a walk around the grounds he proposed to his lady and was overjoyed when she accepted his hand.

After their wedding y/n insisted on going outside to greet the people and Hal would do anything for y/n so they went out and greeted the people of the Kingdom.

Hal watched his new wife with the people, he watched as she hugged the children and spoke to the elderly, some of them regulars from the Inn, she truly was a Queen of the people and she had won over their hearts.

They spent nearly every day together when he wasn’t doing his royal duties for the Kingdom, which was thriving under the new king and queen, there was hardly any poverty amongst his people now, since y/n had began to work with the local farmers to provide enough wheat, grain and barley for everyone. Y/n made sure everyone had their fair share of everything and the people loved her for her kindness and her intelligence as well as her beauty.

The King was still ruthless and somewhat merciless towards those who would choose him as their enemy, and some even went as far as attempting to attack his queen, but she never feared because she knew he would always protect her.

‘I will protect you with my life, y/n! You are my Chosen Queen.’

She smiled and lay her hand on his cheek in one of their rare moments of privacy and he melted against her like ice under the blazing sun.

‘Then I have no fear of being harmed my Hal. For I have my Knight in shining armour. Many people would not have approved of your choosing a commoner as Queen-‘

‘Name them and I will have them all hanged.’ He glared looking around them pulling her close.

She chuckled and brought him back to her by taking his face in her hands and stroking his cheeks. ‘There are no enemies in the castle my love, be at peace.’

She nuzzled his nose with hers and watched his eyes soften again.

‘Let us retire to bed my King.’ She whispered and took his hand in hers and pulled him upstairs.

Hal was sitting on his large bed staring at his wife watching her getting undressed and leaned forward to pull her towards him by her hips and rested his head on her stomach closing his eyes.

‘My Queen.’ She ran her fingers through his short hair smiling.

‘I am not Queen yet, my love.’

‘You are MY Queen. Queen of my heart, Queen of my mind, Queen of my soul! You are the air I breath, through my lungs. You are the blood that runs through my veins.’

He slides his hand up her thigh pulling her to sit on his lap letting her wrap her legs around him while he pushed her underdress from her shoulders,

‘Don’t stop my king, what else am I to you?’ She whispered against his ear her long hair falling into her eyes.

His breathing hitched as he untied the lace in front of her gown slowly.

‘You are the music i hear in my head at night, you are the birdsong in the morning. You are the voice of an angel that takes away all of my fears,’

She lifted his shirt over his head tossing it aside and ran her fingers up and down his chest before moving sideways and falling back against the bedsheets and pulled him on top of her.

He had slid her gown down to sit around her hips and placed open mouth kisses up her torso watching her eyes close as he reached her breasts and wrapped his tongue around one nipple and sucking gently while rolling the other between his fingers before switching to the other with his mouth, he trailed his tongue along her collarbone before capturing her lips in his.

He moaned feeling her tongue dancing with his and deepened the kiss passionately. She slid her hands down his body and reached for the strings that tied his pants together and pulled them free before sliding her hand in and wrapping her fingers around him making his hips to rut forward against her hand moaning.

She began stroking his hard length sliding her hand up and down him as she moved her head and kissed down his jaw leaving gently nips along his neck causing him to whimper and let his head fall against her throat and dig his fingers into the sheets just by her head.

‘No! Not like this.’ He growled hoarsely and gently pushed her hand off him before ripping the rest of her gown off and grabbed her legs to wrap around him as he ran his cock against her opening teasingly making her groan before pushing into her slowly, both their eyes rolling back into their heads.

He set a steady pace thrusting into her hard and deep and leaned down to kiss her lips as she pulled him down on top of her deepening the kiss, causing his cock to go deeper into her making them both moan.

She wrapped her arms around him holding him close as he thrust into her, the only sound being their breathing and contact of skin against skin, he thrust deeper nearly slamming into her as he slid his arms under her body pulling her close against him panting into her shoulder feeling his hair sticking to his forehead and neck.

‘I’m close my King.’ She muttered breathlessly against his ear as her body jerked upwards from the force of his thrusts, he raised her legs up nearly around his chest and slammed harder and deeper making her scream his name beneath him and came undone around him, he watched her in awe as she came around him his eyes never leaving hers as he came straight after her before collapsing into her arms moaning and whimpering her name like a prayer over and over again.

‘Y/n, y/n y/n, y/n. My Queen y/n.’

He lay in her arms, both drenched in sweat and tangled in the bedsheets trying to remember how to breath again. He buried his face in her neck as she lightly ran her fingers down his back, she turned and lay small pecks against the side of his head earning a nudge and a nip against her neck, she lifted his face and gave him an open mouth peck against his lips which he deepened pushing his tongue into her mouth.

She returned the kiss pushing him onto his back and gently held his face between her hands as he wrapped his arms around her back and just lay there letting her kiss and nibble his lips. She pushed his hair from his face with her fingers before breaking the kiss and laying her head on his shoulder.

‘Sleep, My king. We have the rest of our lives to make love and be together forever.’

He smiled and closed his eyes holding her close and pulled the bedsheets around them falling asleep.

@sufferingstarlight

@gatoenlaciudad

@kteezy997

@lixzey

@minnypress

@tchalamess

@tchalamss

@mel-vaz

[immediatebreakfast]

A lot of things happened today, a lot of horrible things. A full circus of errors orchestrated by the narrative to serve the high end of tragedy. Everything thrown to this poor young lady who just wanted to get married, and live happily.

And yet it's incredible to read how Dracula practically organized the worst way possible to deliver the last blow to poor Lucy.

Every action, and horrible moment translates into a domino effect that traps Lucy in her own house, surrounded by death, and then utterly alone.

Dracula is merciless as we have known. The poor mother with the wolves, those babies only knowing pain and then death, even the Weird Sisters as horrible as they were are subjected to this man's orders and treatment. Plus, all of the locals of Transylvania being terrorized for centuries.

Then it comes Jonathan, and now Lucy.

All of Dracula's actions feel full of rage. Rage of being foiled, of seeing how his target keeps on living despite being utterly drained of blood two separate times. He was capricious with Lucy in Whitby by capturing her nightmares as he drank in leisure, but now it became about power over a life.

"but I did not fear to go to sleep again, although the boughs or bats or something napped almost angrily against the window-panes." - Lucy Westenra.

Our dear Lucy doesn't fear the nightmares anymore, she doesn't fear the darkness, nor is worried about the fog inside her head ordering to do things that cause her harm because Lucy is now surrounded by love, by medicine, by people that care about her.

She knows about the horrors, about the nightmares, about the harm that has been inflicted upon her. However, lucy doesn't fear that anymore, with her beautiful garlic wreath around her neck, healthy, and clear of mind she doesn't fear.

And what happens when it's clear to Dracula that Lucy doesn't fear his power?

"I went to the window and looked out, but could see nothing, except a big bat, which had evidently been buffeting its wings against the window."

This single moment, this tiny moment of simply looking at Dracula directly, it's probably the drop that made the glass explode. This is all speculation of course, but just imagine the miriad of emotions, questions, and decisions that traveled through Dracula's brain in that single moment.

The girl, not dead, full of life, eyes as clear as the morning sky, with a wreath of garlic flowers (mountain ash to repel) around her neck looking right at him without a shred of fear... those wretched peasants arming themselves with their knowledge thinking that they could survive him. The young solicitor with the crucifix, denying him of what is rightfully his, and striking him down with a simple shovel.

What does she deserve after this? Death. Death to her mother, death to her loved ones, death to herself... or maybe something worse.

This ancient evil got so angry that this young lady was holding so much to her life that he orchestrated a living nightmare to kill her.

Because who is this mortal human to deny the orders of a lord defeating time itself?

[obsessive-disfuntion]

Sneak Peek for Gun-Slinging and Impressing the Literal Devil

So this fic is based off of the beautiful cowboy Lucifer art that @bat-boness made, and I'm like 2/3 of the way done with it!! I just wanted to post a quick sneak peak of what I have to show that it exists and it's almost done!!!

Slight suggestive warning :)

“Damn…” Lucifer whistled, stepping towards you. “Haven’t seen someone shoot like that in a long time.”

“Glad I could impress someone like Lucifer himself,” you smiled, tipping your hat before lifting your skirt again and hooking your gun into the holster strapped around your thigh.

You tried to pretend you didn’t notice him staring at your skin as you let your skirt fall back to your ankles.

“Already was impressed when I saw you for the first time. Wasn’t kiddin’ when I called you a pretty lady.”

You blushed at the compliment but played it off, taking a step towards him. “And you’re strikingly handsome for an outlaw… you’d think always being on the run would ruin one’s appearance.”

“Well, I suppose I’m criminally good-lookin' as well.”

You snicker behind your hand. You really liked him…

“I’m not stayin’ here too long…”

“What a shame,” you frown at him, sticking out your bottom lip in a fake pout. 

“But I’d still like to have a pleasant stay. Any ideas on how I can make my visit a little more… fun?” he asked, stepping so close to you that his crossed arms nearly touched your chest.

Your eyes widened at his words. You looked at him, and his eyes were narrowed, honed in on you and only you and taking in your appearance.

Well, shit. Who are you to deny someone like him?

“I might have a few… it wouldn’t be too bad of an idea to show a merciless outlaw to my own home, would it?”

“Well… I certainly don’t think so… at least, not this outlaw,” he smiled at you, placing a gentle hand on your hip, and you caught him staring down at your figure.

“Well, let’s get on your horse and I’ll show you the way.”

Dw guys, this is definitely longer than it seems, I just wanted to leave you guys hanging :) I'll hopefully get it published in the next few days!!

[extremely-judgemental]

This got me thinking about Amarantha and Ianthe, so let’s talk.

I don't know what her obsession with female villains having sex slaves is but it was already tired the first time she did it. A woman can and should be taken seriously as a villain without being a serial r**ist.

@lady-tragedy on violence in SJM's books.

Outside of her romances, sex is still a core part of SJM’s books. As an ace reader, for me, these scenes are nothing more than an insight to the characters’ beliefs and behaviours. When I read about the sexual crimes committed by Amarantha and Ianthe, it felt like a desperate and unnecessary attempt to make them villains.

Amarantha is a ruthless warrior of Hybern who comes to Prythian as a courtier. Once she settles in, she tricks the High Lords, steals their powers, keeps them captive so they can’t topple her dictatorship. Her cruelty is already established with Lucien’s mutilation, Jurian’s fate, and her relentless pursuit of Tamlin since he was a boy. She’s highly prejudiced, creatively cunning, and sadistic. Knowing Tamlin’s loyalty to the lands, she forces him to be the cause of his friends’ deaths. She sets impossible challenges for Feyre knowing her mortal body might give out before she completes even one.

She comes off a bit cartoonish with her grand monologues and threats while not doing much (until that last chapter) than being a puppeteer. But her drive is interesting and gives her that sense of evil in her nature. Her sister dies at the hands of her mortal lover after being tortured. This reinforces her goals to enslave the humans again. Since the faeries were divided during the last war, she unites Prythian to eliminate any opposition. Even her hatred for Feyre is driven by this. She wants to prove that every one of the mortals is like Jurian—unfaithful and merciless.

Amarantha is a true villain and there’s more than enough proof of her villainy without Rhysand’s sexual abuse. If we remove that from the plot, her potential isn’t weakened. With it, her actions are out of character and pointless and raises a lot of questions. There are no other hints that she’s sexually sadistic. If she was, who are her other victims UtM? Why does she hurt the most evil High Lord who doesn’t shy away from putting on such shows in this way? If this is to humiliate him, why continue when he pretends to enjoy it? And if this is about dominance, why doesn’t she go after the other High Lords?

Moreover, it undermines her core reasons. Amarantha wants to rule. She’s obsessive and ambitious. In the fifty years, she grows comfortable being Queen of Prythian but her tyranny is not an elaborate plan to trap Tamlin. He’s a game which she improvised to achieve everything she wants in one move. Tamlin offering himself wouldn’t have saved Rhysand or the others UtM. Her refusal to release Prythian when Feyre completes the tasks proves it. But because of the last minute addition of Rhysand’s abuse, all of Amarantha’s real causes and crimes are shadowed and she becomes a woman driven by lust for two men.

Ianthe is a priestess who associates herself with influential men for her means. Since she has no magical abilities or a high position in the society except for the priestess title, she uses her body to get what she wants. Her motivations are not as clear (iirc) but the time she’s in hiding with her family could be concurred as a driving factor, or the lack of influence in a patriarchal world, or like Amarantha, she wants power, plain and simple.

There are many moments that show her evil side. She actively encourages the separation between Tamlin and Feyre by manipulating them. She betrays Nesta and Elain’s location to win favour from Hybern. She pushes Tamlin to carry out barbaric acts in the name of upholding traditions which is underscored by her desire for power. Despite this, the only ones remembered are the sexual crimes she committed which leads to many questions.

Ianthe’s exceptionally beautiful known to win any man she wants. She’s a childhood friend of Tamlin and when she returns, his relationship with Feyre is already beginning to crack. Instead of targeting him, she goes for Lucien who neither trusts her nor shows interest in her. If she wants power, why choose the one who wouldn’t play by her rules and won’t ever be a High Lord? Why doesn’t she target one of the others recently crowned UtM?

Pursuing Rhysand makes sense as he’s the ‘most powerful High Lord’. But he has a reputation to have whores as he pleases and his response to her isn’t in line with the mask he wears. He doesn’t have his evil attitude nor does he behave like the manipulative mastermind he’s claimed to be. Considering this, the memory of Ianthe harassing him serves to drive Feyre’s hatred towards the only support left in Spring other than Tamlin and Lucien.

Duality of sex and abuse in the series

I’m not denying that these two women sexually abused men. Plotwise, it doesn’t conform to Amarantha’s character or support Ianthe’s cause. Let’s say it’s a random incident because characters can be unpredictable sometimes. But then, the only two notable villainesses in the series turn out to be sexual predators.

On the other hand, sex is a rite of passage for the ‘good’ female leads—Feyre accepting the role of Rhysand’s whore, Morrigan becoming sexually hyperactive and Nesta having multiple partners. And they use seduction as a weapon which becomes part of their strength and identity. Even before Ianthe assaults Lucien, Feyre disapproves her acts of pursuing men. But when she takes charge of her life, she does the same with Tarquin. She also exploits Lucien’s friendship and ruins his reputation across courts. These are considered her accomplishments. (And, it’s hard to say how far she’d have gone in her vengeance if things hadn’t turned out her way. She isn’t abusive but her inner thoughts in Lucien’s bedroom felt more than suspicious.)

Also, none of the victims are equally sympathised in the narrative. Female victims don’t talk about their abuse or heal from it on page. Among the men, only Rhysand earns compassion from the characters and the readers while Lucien’s is forgotten and Tamlin’s is ignored. I’m not entirely convinced either of these women would be hated as much had Rhysand not been their prey because it’s become the highlight of their crimes, and Tamlin is still heavily criticised for not sacrificing himself and blamed for the sisters’ deaths.

What truly stands out is that Ianthe parallels Rhysand while Amarantha, Cassian. Ianthe has a goal and goes as far as to assault someone for it—similar to what Rhysand did to Feyre. Amarantha's control and punishment of Rhysand reflects Cassian’s behaviour towards Nesta. He also mirrors Ianthe if we consider his stalking. In SJM's world, while the men are forgiven and their acts are fetishised even, the women are considered a disgrace and fated to die. They are reduced to mere temptresses erasing any ingenuity in their characters. This double standard reinforces the idea that the gravest crime a woman can commit is abuse a man. She’s only a villain when she acts like a man, pursues like a man, aspires like a man.

[missamyrisa2]

just thinking about this tickle video where a mature lady is relentlessly rubbing a girl's royal pearl through her powder blue panties while tickling the belly and underarms with skittery nailssss ~~~ and by the end of it the girl just has this like eyes nearly shut little smirk while her body is still wriggling madly as she's been completely overloaded into the fuzzy zone~~

And how the gif set I made for it on my old tumblr, titled Relentless Rub N Tickle, eventually reached a non-tickle audience and my gosssshh I don't think I've ever blushed harder from reblogs than when I'd see comments like "omg! What is this ?? This is so evil. And I kinda love it" and "wtf I like tickling now"

Except maybe when similarly that gif set of a guy getting a merciless post-climax tickle torture on his princely part with this wicked girl following his every motion with more tickle touches until he was a yelping whimpering desperate mess similarly made its way into a more general audience ~

I absolutely adoreeee that I'm only doing teases and stories now but some days I doooo missss the gif making days, finding those beautiful crazy moments in my favorite clips and making them into devestatingly teasing little loopsss~<33