#her little symbol thing is a heart of fire that’s all she is

[lovingdabeessss]

Yang xiao long has her mothers eyes when she is desperate and her lovers when she is kind welcome to my ted talk-

[moonselune]

I don’t know if this request works within the “canon” of the dark bg3 stuff but could there be something of them having a sort of “am I the baddie? No of course not!” moment. Like Mother Superior SH realizing her memory wipes have started to erase things she liked about her partner, but then still justifying it anyway.

omg this is all i could think about

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Dark!BG3 | Am I the Villain?

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

For: Conqueror!Minthara, MotherSuperior!Shadowheart, God!Gale, Ascended!Astarion, Naturist!Halsin, GrandDuke!Wyll

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

CW: Controlling, manipulation, coercion, forced memory loss, blood, murder, F!reader

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Conqueror Minthara:

The grand hall is ablaze with light, the flicker of candles dancing off the gleaming armor of the elite and the polished stone walls. Minthara walks with you at her side, her usual commanding presence dominating the room, as she surveys the other attendees. A celebration of her most recent victory, another success in her endless conquest, and yet tonight, something weighs on her.

You’re standing beside her, dressed impeccably in her colors, red and black, a jeweled collar gleaming at your throat—a symbol of her possession. Your eyes, once so defiant, are now soft, almost distant, and Minthara can’t help but notice how different you’ve become. You stay close, your body language careful and measured, as if you’re constantly attuned to her, never straying too far.

But something nags at her tonight, a strange sense of unease that she’s never felt before. She watches you carefully, the way you hold yourself, the way you respond to the others at the gala with polite, but hollow words. The life you once had—the fire, the rebellion—it’s all been snuffed out, and for a moment, Minthara wonders if she’s gone too far.

She remembers the nights of resistance, the fight you used to put up, the venom in your words when you defied her. Back then, it thrilled her—your spirit, your defiance. But over time, she broke you down, bit by bit, until you were hers in every sense of the word. And now, here you are, completely loyal, utterly devoted, always at her side.

But is this what she truly wanted?

Her thoughts are interrupted when she notices how you glance up at her, a look of absolute obedience in your eyes. The way you move closer to her, as if seeking her approval, as if your very presence is tethered to her will. It’s an instinct now, a habit ingrained so deeply in you that it’s second nature. And for a fleeting moment, Minthara feels a pang of guilt. Had she damaged you beyond repair? Had she stripped away too much of who you were?

Her gaze softens as she watches you. There’s no fight left in you, no spark of rebellion, just complete submission. She knows she’s the reason for it—her relentless control, her possessiveness. Maybe she should feel guilty. Maybe this is her fault.

But then, as she watches you greet a lord with a curt nod, your eyes immediately flicking back to hers for approval, something inside her shifts. The guilt begins to fade, replaced by something darker, something more possessive. You belong to her now, completely. Every glance, every word, every breath you take is in service to her. You’ll never leave her.

The thought fills her with a twisted sense of satisfaction. She watches you move through the crowd, always keeping an eye on her, always staying within reach, and she realizes that this—this loyalty, this obedience—is exactly what she wanted all along.

You catch her gaze again, and she smiles. A slow, predatory smile that makes your heart flutter with a mixture of fear and devotion. She beckons you closer with a subtle gesture, and without hesitation, you obey, moving to her side as if you were born to be there.

As you approach, Minthara places a hand on your arm, pulling you just a little closer, her fingers brushing against your skin. She looks down at you, her eyes filled with something possessive, something deeply satisfied.

“You’ve done well tonight,” she murmurs, her voice low and smooth, meant only for your ears. “You’re always so perfect, always so loyal.”

You look up at her, a small, strained smile on your lips, and she can see the exhaustion in your eyes. But there’s no defiance there, no resistance. Only acceptance.

Minthara tightens her grip on your arm, her gaze softening as she leans down to press a kiss to your temple.

“You’ll never leave me,” she whispers, more to herself than to you, and it’s not a question. It’s a statement, a fact. One she’s ensured.

For a brief moment, the flicker of guilt tries to rise again, but it’s drowned out by the sheer satisfaction of having you completely, utterly hers. She doesn’t feel bad anymore. Why should she? You’re exactly where you’re meant to be—by her side, forever.

With that, she straightens, her grip loosening slightly, though she keeps you close. The night continues, the sounds of the gala fading into the background as Minthara allows herself to bask in the sense of control, of ownership. And as you stand there, ever obedient, ever loyal, she knows she made the right choice.

You’re hers, after all. Always.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Mother Superior Shadowheart:

Mother Superior Shadowheart watches you from the edge of the room, her dark, piercing eyes following your every move. You’re sitting by the hearth, quietly stitching a piece of fabric, your once defiant spirit all but extinguished. It should comfort her—this docile, pliant version of you. This is what she wanted, isn’t it? The perfect companion, loyal and obedient, devoted to her in every way. She has molded you, stripped away every rebellious thought, wiped every memory that threatened her control over you, until there was nothing left but submission.

And yet, as she watches you now, there’s an uneasy feeling gnawing at her. There’s something missing. A spark, a fire, a certain light in your eyes that used to challenge her. She remembers the way you used to argue with her, your quick wit and sharp tongue, the way you’d make her feel alive even in your defiance. Now, you simply nod and smile, never questioning, never pushing back. It’s what she wanted, but the satisfaction is hollow.

Shadowheart clenches her fist, feeling the familiar weight of guilt creep up on her, though she shoves it back down where it belongs. No, this is what has to be done. Without the memory wipes, you wouldn’t be here at all. You would have left her long ago, and she couldn’t—she wouldn’t allow that. She had to take control, had to make you forget, for your own sake and hers. If you remembered how things once were, the things you used to say, the way you used to resist her… you’d run.

“You’re quiet today,” she finally says, her voice soft, careful. She crosses the room, standing behind you and placing her hands on your shoulders. You stiffen slightly under her touch, just for a moment, but then you relax, leaning into her, as if the act is second nature.

“I’m just… thinking,” you reply, your voice almost too soft, too distant. There’s a wistfulness in it, something she doesn’t like. What are you thinking about? What parts of your old self are trying to claw their way back?

Shadowheart bends down, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, her lips lingering a little too long.

“What are you thinking about, my love?” she asks, but her voice holds a warning, a silent threat that you might not even recognize anymore.

You smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. “I was thinking about… something. I don’t quite remember.”

Shadowheart’s heart clenches. Something you don’t remember. Of course, you don’t. She made sure of that. The memory wipes have been thorough, meticulous, erasing anything that could ever give you a reason to defy her again. But in doing so, she’s started to erase things she liked about you—things she loved. She straightens up, trying to shake off the unease crawling up her spine.

“Good,” she murmurs, though it sounds more like she’s trying to convince herself. “There’s no need to dwell on the past.”

But the truth gnaws at her. How much of you has she lost in this process? How many parts of the person she fell in love with are gone forever? She tries to recall the way you used to laugh, the way your eyes used to light up with mischief, the way you used to challenge her in ways that no one else dared. Now, all of that is gone—erased, as if it never existed.

But it had to be done. You would have left her. You would have abandoned her, just like everyone else. She had no choice. If you remembered the fights, the times you tried to escape, the moments of rebellion… you’d hate her. You’d leave her. She couldn’t allow that.

“I’m happy,” you say softly, almost mechanically, as if the words are rehearsed. “I’m glad to be here, with you.”

Shadowheart winces, and she quickly moves to sit beside you, taking your hands in hers. She forces a smile, trying to reassure herself that this is what she wants.

“You are exactly where you’re meant to be,” she whispers, her thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “With me.”

You look at her, that empty, vacant smile still on your lips, and it makes her stomach turn. There’s no fire, no spark, no defiance. Just hollow obedience. She once loved the way you’d look at her with fury in your eyes, how you’d challenge her authority, forcing her to assert control. Now, you’re just… complacent.

But she justifies it, as she always does. Without the memory wipes, you’d leave her. You’d run far away, and she couldn’t bear that. She tells herself it’s necessary, that you’re better off this way. You’re safe, protected, and she has you. That’s all that matters.

Shadowheart lifts your chin gently, making you meet her gaze.

“I love you,” she says, and for a fleeting moment, she wonders if you truly understand those words anymore, or if they’re just another script you’ve been forced to follow.

“I love you too,” you reply automatically, your voice devoid of the passion it once held.

She leans in, kissing you deeply, trying to summon the old fire that used to burn between you, but it feels one-sided now. You kiss her back, but there’s no intensity, no heat, just a practiced motion. She pulls away, her chest tight, and she knows—deep down—that she’s destroyed something beautiful.

But it’s too late now.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

God of Ambition Gale:

Gale watches you move through his realm, his eyes tracing your every step. His once-human heart, now swollen with divine power, beats with an unsettling calm. He sees you—the god of the muse, the very embodiment of inspiration, grace, and passion—now reduced to something far more hollow. There is no spark left in your eyes, no flicker of the joy you once carried. Your movements are slow, mechanical, as if your purpose has long since evaporated, leaving you to wander aimlessly through the gilded labyrinth that Gale has constructed. His perfect world, made for you.

He knows what he’s done, of course. He sees it in your detachment, in the way your gaze drifts as though searching for something beyond the realm he has meticulously crafted. He sees it in the way your hands no longer create, no longer breathe life into the world. But he also knows why he did it. He tells himself it was necessary—that this was the only way to protect you, to preserve you as his forever.

You are his muse, his divine inspiration, but more importantly, you are his. You belong to him in the same way this realm does, in the same way the power of the Weave now bends to his will. Without you, what would this godhood mean? His ambitions would be empty. He cannot allow you to leave, to break free from his grasp, even if it means crushing the very essence that made you who you are.

“Come here,” Gale commands softly, his voice reverberating through the golden halls like a whisper of thunder. You hesitate for a moment, though not out of defiance, but from the weight of knowing what comes next. Your feet carry you to him as if on strings, compelled by more than just obedience. You stand before him, head slightly lowered, your once-proud form now a shadow of the muse that had once inspired entire realms.

Gale’s eyes bore into you, hungry, searching for something—some sign that your love for him has not faded, that you are still his. His hand lifts to cup your cheek, fingers cold and pulsing with the untamed magic he now controls.

“Tell me,” he says, his tone deceptively gentle, but you feel the underlying edge to it. “How much do you love me?”

Your heart stirs in dread, though your expression remains carefully neutral. You know exactly what he is asking. There is a quiet warning in his words, an unspoken promise of what he will do to the mortal realm if your answer displeases him. You have seen the devastation he is capable of, how easily he reshapes existence to suit his desires. His ambition knows no bounds. You, better than anyone, know how little it would take for him to unmake entire worlds just to punish you for a single misstep.

So, you answer him, your voice soft but steady.

“I am devoted to you, Gale,” you say, each word deliberate, each syllable spoken with the careful precision of someone walking a razor’s edge. “I love you. I adore you.”

For a moment, there is silence. His eyes search yours, as though he’s trying to find something deeper behind your words. You wonder if he sees the truth—the emptiness behind your declaration, the lifeless devotion you now perform like an act, all to keep him from destroying everything. But Gale smiles, and for a terrifying moment, you know he believes you.

“Yes,” he whispers, his smile widening as he pulls you closer, his lips brushing against your forehead. “I know you do. I knew it from the moment I bound us together.”

In his mind, your love justifies everything. It justifies the suffocating control he’s exerted over you, the gilded cage he’s built, and the countless lives that have been lost in his pursuit of power. It justifies the endless, obsessive need to keep you at his side, to shape you into the perfect companion—no matter how much of yourself he has stripped away in the process.

He brushes a lock of hair from your face, his touch reverent, as though he’s still captivated by the thought of what you once were. But you are no longer his muse. You are his prisoner.

“You see,” Gale continues, his voice low and soothing, “this was all for us. For you. I couldn’t risk losing you, not to the whims of fate or time, or to your own will.” His thumb traces the curve of your jaw, and you can feel the weight of his power thrumming beneath his skin. “No one will ever love you the way I do. No one will ever understand you as I do.”

You nod, even as the void in your chest grows heavier, more suffocating. You are trapped, bound by both his love and his madness. The realm around you feels like a beautiful prison, a perfect world in which you are a mere ornament—a shadow of your former self, kept only because you once inspired the god who now holds you.

And Gale, in his arrogance, in his infinite ambition, believes that this is enough. That this twisted devotion, this corrupted love, is the highest form of worship.

As you stand there, locked in his embrace, you cannot help but wonder how much longer you can pretend. How much longer you can wear this mask of adoration before the last remnants of yourself are lost forever.

But for now, you tell him what he needs to hear. You tell him that you love him. Because to do otherwise would be to unleash the full fury of a god, and the world cannot afford that. Neither can you.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Ascended Astarion:

Astarion leans against a crumbling wall, sat on a nearby crate, watching you with a quiet, almost predatory satisfaction as you tear through the night, drenched in bloodlust. He would have preferred more opulent surroundings but you had become ravenous after a meeting at a fellow noble's house. The moonlight filters through the shadows of the alley, illuminating the grotesque scene unfolding before him. Bodies litter the ground, drained of life, their faces frozen in expressions of terror as your fangs sink into another helpless victim. You are unstoppable, a whirlwind of violence and hunger, your eyes wild with the mania of the hunt, your hands stained red with the life you have stolen.

At first, Astarion feels a twisted sense of pride. This is what he wanted, after all. To make you like him—an apex predator, free from the chains of morality and guilt that once held you back. The two of you, together, are gods among mortals, unstoppable in your pursuit of power and blood. He remembers when you would hesitate, how your face would twist in sorrow even as you killed a simple goblin, trying to justify your actions to yourself. You used to care, used to flinch at the thought of taking a life.

But now? Now you are something else entirely. He watches as you throw aside a body, your lips stained with fresh blood, your eyes burning with the same insatiable hunger he once saw in himself. You’ve become the perfect reflection of him, the monster he always knew you could be. And yet, as the frenzy continues, something unexpected stirs within him.

At first, it’s just a fleeting thought—a brief flicker of memory. He recalls the way your face would soften after a fight, how you would stand over the bodies of your enemies, your eyes clouded with guilt. You’d tell him, in quiet whispers, how you never wanted this. How you feared becoming like him. It used to annoy him, how you clung to that sliver of humanity, as though it were some precious treasure. But now, as he watches the carnage, that memory claws its way to the surface, unbidden.

Look at you now.

The sound of your laughter, unhinged and wild, echoes through the blood-soaked street, and Astarion feels something twist inside him. His gaze follows your every movement as you finish off the last of your victims, blood dripping from your lips, your body swaying with the exhaustion of the frenzy. You’ve taken more lives tonight than you can count, and Astarion can see it—the mania burning through you, consuming you. You’re lost in it, no longer in control, just a vessel for the hunger that now defines you.

And it’s then that it hits him: he has done this to you.

A flicker of regret rises in him, sharp and unexpected. It’s not that he regrets the power he’s given you or the freedom to revel in your darkest desires. No, it’s something deeper. He remembers how you used to be—how you used to fight to keep your heart intact, even when it hurt you. He watches the way your hands tremble, not from fear, but from the adrenaline coursing through your veins, from the sheer mania that has taken hold of you.

It’s gone now, that humanity you once clung to. He’s broken you. Turned you into a creature of blood and death, a reflection of his own cruelty. And for the briefest of moments, Astarion feels a pang of something close to sorrow.

But then it’s gone—washed away as you collapse at his feet, utterly spent. Your body, drenched in blood, crumples to the ground, and before he can react, your head falls gently into his lap. You look up at him, your chest heaving with exhaustion, eyes glassy from the high of the hunt, and in that moment, whatever flicker of regret he felt vanishes.

Because this—this is where you belong. At his feet. You, the once-innocent soul who balked at the thought of killing, who feared the very darkness that now consumes you. You are his now, entirely, just as he always wanted. Your humanity is gone, and in its place, there is only devotion—to him, to the hunger, to the night.

Astarion smiles, his fingers brushing lightly against your blood-soaked hair as he gazes down at you with a mix of possessiveness and dark satisfaction. You are perfect. His perfect creature, shaped and molded by his hand. Whatever regret he had felt is meaningless now, drowned out by the reality of what you’ve become.

“Look at you,” he whispers, his voice low and soothing, though there is a sinister undertone to it. “You’ve finally embraced what you are, my love. Doesn’t it feel… freeing?”

You don’t respond, still too exhausted from the bloodshed, but your eyes flicker up to meet his. There’s no need for words; he sees it in your gaze—the surrender, the acceptance. You’re his now, irrevocably and utterly. Astarion knows that whatever small piece of you once resisted him is gone, devoured by the darkness he helped unleash.

He tilts your chin up, his thumb gently brushing the corner of your bloodied lips, his eyes glowing with satisfaction. “This is where you belong,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you. “At my side. By my feet. There’s nowhere else for you now.”

And in the stillness that follows, as the bodies of the slain lie cold and lifeless around you, Astarion knows that he has won. Whatever part of you he might have mourned is insignificant compared to the power he now holds over you. You are bound to him in every sense—by blood, by darkness, by the very madness that he has instilled in you.

He feels no regret anymore. Only pride.

The regret was a fleeting ghost, and now it is gone, replaced by the absolute certainty that you belong to him.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Naturist Halsin:

Halsin stood quietly in the shadows of the grove, watching you as you tended to the small group of animals you had rescued. You moved among them with a gentle care, hands stroking their fur, whispering soft reassurances. A faint smile played on your lips, a reflection of the compassion you still held in your heart, but something was wrong. He could see it. It was in the way your hands trembled, the slight stiffness in your posture, the way your eyes—though focused on the creatures before you—seemed distant, as if they were seeing something far away.

And then, there were the tears.

They slipped from your eyes silently, trailing down your cheeks like rain. You weren’t sobbing, nor were you visibly distressed. It was as if your body had decided to release the sorrow on its own, without your permission. You didn’t wipe them away or acknowledge them, instead choosing to ignore them entirely, continuing your work as though nothing was wrong.

But Halsin knew better. He could feel the ache beneath your surface, could see it in the way your smile faltered when you thought no one was watching. He had imprisoned you here in the grove, telling himself it was for the best—that you belonged to nature, that this was where you were meant to be, where he could keep you safe from the chaos and destruction of the world beyond. But now, as he watched you tend to the animals with a hollow, mechanical grace, he realized just how deeply that decision had affected you.

Your mind had shut down, he realized. It was coping, retreating inward, while your body simply went through the motions. The tears were your soul’s quiet cry, one you couldn’t bring yourself to voice. It was easier to focus on the animals, on the routine of caring for them, than to confront the prison that this grove had become.

A slight pang of regret stirred in Halsin’s heart, unsettling him. He had never meant to break your spirit like this. He had only wanted to protect you, to ensure that you stayed close to the wilds, where you could be one with the natural world. But had he gone too far? Had he mistaken control for love?

Just then, a small fawn stumbled beside you, its legs weak, its body trembling. You knelt beside it, your hands moving with practiced care, trying to find the source of its distress. But something was wrong. Despite your efforts, the fawn’s breathing remained labored, and its small body continued to tremble under your touch. Panic flickered across your face, and for the first time, your composure wavered.

Without hesitation, you stood, your eyes wide with worry, and you sprinted towards Halsin, desperation lacing your voice.

“Halsin, please! I don’t know what’s wrong with the fawn—I can’t help it!” Your breath was quick, your heart pounding, as you looked up at him, eyes wide with a raw, vulnerable need.

Halsin blinked, the regret he had felt a moment ago slipping from his mind as he moved toward the fawn, laying his hands gently upon its quivering body. With a soft incantation, he channeled the magic of the natural world into the creature, healing its ailment with the simple touch of his hand. The fawn let out a soft breath, its body relaxing as the magic took hold, its eyes now clear and calm.

You exhaled in relief, tears still streaming down your cheeks, but now they were different—born from gratitude, not grief. You turned to Halsin, your face breaking into a genuine smile as you stepped closer to him.

Without thinking, you leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, your voice trembling with emotion. “Thank you. You saved it. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

For a brief moment, the world seemed to still around Halsin. The warmth of your lips on his cheek, the way you looked at him with such trust, such deep reliance—it stirred something deep within him. Whatever regret he had felt, whatever doubt had briefly flickered in his heart, was now gone. In this moment, he was reminded of why he had done what he had—why he had brought you here, why he had kept you close.

He wasn’t just protecting you. He was giving you a life where you could be safe, where you could rely on him, where you could find solace in the wild, away from the chaos of the world that had threatened to tear you apart. You might not see it now, but in time, you would come to understand. This was where you belonged, with the creatures of the forest, with him.

You needed him, and that need justified everything.

Halsin’s large hand came up to cup your cheek gently, his thumb brushing away the tear that still clung to your skin.

“You’re welcome, my heart,” he said softly, his voice filled with a quiet strength. “You’ll always have me to help you. Always.”

He pulled you into an embrace, and though he could feel the stiffness in your body, the hesitation that lingered beneath the surface, he ignored it. You were here, in his arms, in the grove, and that was enough.

It had to be enough.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Grand Duke Wyll:

Wyll strode down the hall with purpose, the weight of his title as Grand Duke pressing heavily upon his shoulders. He had dealt with emissaries, council meetings, and the ever-growing burden of ruling Baldur’s Gate, but his thoughts always drifted back to you. His spouse. His love. The one he had claimed as his, by any means necessary. To him, it had been an act of devotion—a way to protect you from the dangers of the world, to shield you from harm. His love for you was absolute, consuming, and he believed that it justified everything.

As he approached your chambers, the sound of muffled sobbing reached his ears. His brow furrowed, and a sense of unease began to settle in his chest. Something was wrong. Without thinking, he pushed open the door, not bothering to knock. His eyes immediately fell upon you, sitting on the edge of the bed, your shoulders trembling with the force of your silent sobs. Your hands were clutching a piece of fabric, as though trying to anchor yourself, and tears streamed down your face unchecked.

Wyll’s heart lurched at the sight, and he rushed to your side. "What is it? What’s wrong?" he demanded, his voice filled with concern but laced with an edge of possessiveness. He hated seeing you like this—broken, fragile. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He had made sure you would be safe, protected, loved.

You gasped, startled by his sudden presence, and immediately tried to pull yourself together. You wiped at your face in a near-hysterical fashion, your movements frantic and clumsy as you struggled to hide your tears.

"Wyll—no, it’s nothing. I’m fine," you said, your voice strained, a weak smile plastered across your tear-streaked face. “I wasn’t expecting you—”

But Wyll wasn’t having any of it. His eyes darkened with frustration, his hand reaching out to stop you as you tried to stand and walk away from him. His grip was firm, almost possessive, as his fingers curled around your wrist, pulling you back toward him.

"Don’t lie to me," he said, his voice low and commanding. He wasn’t going to let you slip away, not like this. Not when you were clearly hurting.

You stumbled slightly as he pulled you to face him, his other hand gently but insistently tilting your chin up so that you were forced to meet his gaze. That’s when he saw it—the fear in your eyes. The way your breath hitched in your chest, the way your body stiffened under his touch. The raw, unspoken terror that you were trying so desperately to hide. His heart clenched at the realization. You were scared of him.

He hadn’t wanted this. He had taken you, yes— locked you away from the dangers of the world outside—but he had done it all for love. For you. To protect you. But now, as he stared into your tear-filled eyes, the truth was impossible to ignore. You were broken, fractured under the weight of his possessive love, and it was his doing.

A pang of regret stirred in his chest, an unfamiliar ache as he loosened his grip on your wrist. He had taken too much from you, pushed you too far, and now he could see the consequences etched across your face.

“Tell me what's wrong,” he murmured, his voice suddenly softer, as if trying to soothe the very wound he had caused.

But you shook your head quickly, panic flashing in your eyes as you tried to brush off his concern. “It’s nothing, Wyll, really. I—it’s just the pressure- yes, the pressure of it all. The responsibility of being your spouse, of being by your side all the time. It’s overwhelming sometimes, but I’m fine. I’m glad you’re here. You make it better.”

Your words were rushed, and Wyll could tell you were lying, though he wasn’t sure if it was to protect yourself or to keep him from feeling guilty. Maybe it was both. It didn’t matter. He didn’t care if you were telling the truth or not, because in the next moment, you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close. Your embrace was tight, desperate, as though you were clinging to him for stability, for some sense of safety amidst the storm of emotions swirling inside you.

Wyll hesitated for only a moment before he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you firmly against his chest. He could feel your body trembling against his, your heart beating rapidly, and despite the regret that had momentarily flickered in his heart, it quickly began to fade. As he held you close, as he felt your warmth against him, all of his doubts and guilt melted away.

You needed him. You belonged to him. And in that embrace, he found the justification he had always clung to. Whatever pain you felt, whatever fear you harbored, it was all necessary. Because without him, where would you be? Lost, vulnerable, exposed to the dangers of the world. He had saved you, claimed you, and ensured that no one else could ever hurt you. He was your protector, your keeper. Your everything.

Wyll tightened his hold on you, his hand moving to cradle the back of your head as he whispered into your hair.

"I’ll always be here for you, my love, no matter what.” His voice was soothing, even as his heart swelled with possessiveness. He wasn’t going to let you go—not ever. Whatever regret he had felt was gone now, replaced by the certainty that he had done the right thing. He had to keep you close, had to keep you under his control. Because if he didn’t, if you left him, the world would tear you apart.

You held him tighter, your face buried in his chest, and Wyll closed his eyes, feeling the steady rise and fall of your breathing. This was right. This was how it was meant to be. You, in his arms, relying on him, needing him.

And as he held you, any lingering remorse faded into nothingness, drowned by the all-consuming love—and control—he had over you. He believed, deep down, that this was for the best. For you. For both of you.

Because in Wyll’s mind, love justified everything. Even the chains he had bound you with.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

This was so fun but also so soul crushing to write, poor darlings, they will never catch a break. Hope you guys enjoyed it ! - Seluney xox

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[blueberrypancakesworld]

Hiii there!

I wanted to request an oscar tully x targaryen reader maybe rhaenyras daughter please.. tbh i dont even know what it should be about i just wanted it to ba a oscar and targ reader .. thanks ☺️☺️

The river and the flame

Oscar Tully x princess!reader

warning : hurt/comfort, kissing, holding hands, no use of Y/n

Summary : A sacrifice, the only daughter of the Queen of the Black had to be married and the best match was the new young Lord of the House of Tully who promised to give his strength to the Queen. An engagement and marriage consummated, the fire finds itself in waters where both young nobles must hold each other to make it together and not burn and drown each other.

info : thank you dear anon for this request it was a lot of fun to write it have fun reading and have a nice day everyone

masterlist

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

With fire and strength she could have been born, but when the gods were merciful and gave her first husband something in a night of listlessness through wine and potions, the Queen of the Black conceived her fourth child from a marriage that could never have been consummated.

The queen's first and own princess was born, the little child with the image of her parents bright hair thicker than her mother's silken hair and violet eyes like gems that captured everyone. Behind her were the symbols of the dragon and so she was the only one of her siblings to keep her mother's family name, a decision that complicated things and put her three brothers in an even worse light.

But sacrifices had to be made for the princess, sacrifices in the form of "assassinations", new marriages and the retreat to Dragonstone where the faction of the blacks gathered and rebuilt over the course of weeks and months.

The legacy of the Black Dragon Queen was laid on her true daughter and two small toddlers, even though Jacaerys Velaryon was her eldest son and a young man willing to prove himself to inherit his mother's legacy, he knew he had strength in his blood, a blood that his two brothers had but not his half-siblings.

So the Targaryen family, the black party faced with serious problems Daemond in Harenhall had been trying to gather support for some time, Aegon and Viserys sent away with Rhaena but what now?

An alliance had to be forged because even if honor still prevailed houses no longer chose Viserys' side, it was about the future of families, of royalty and children, it was a decision that could mean death or life, ,,Without news from Daemon we cannot rely on the support of the Riverlands…if you allow the proposal of marriage to be made" the Master began again, who returned without his raven's message.

But she didn't even have to look up from the map to hear her mother's reply, ,,Out of the question" before Rhaenyra tried to find answers in the documents and maps, she had no one to marry but her daughter, but what mother wanted to lose her child in an area she could never get to herself.

It could mean her death but when violet eyes met there was something like hope in the princess's eyes, ,,If my queen allows me to marry the new Lord Tully I would be protected by the Prince Regent and the lords of the surrounding houses who have sworn allegiance to Oscar Tully" she gave her explanation and clasped the small metal statue of the fish they had all heard the aftermath of the death and resurrection of the head of the house and it was the only solution.

It ended in a few arguments, tears and loving gestures but now just a few days later here she was under the banner of the fish with her husband Osacr Tully, despite the fact that they were both young so appreciative of each other he had welcomed her without vourtiele was sincere and loving…and perhaps her heart had beaten faster than she thought when he had placed a kiss on her palm.

He held her hand as he showed her Riverrun, introduced her to the household, the hall and the vassals who had also proclaimed themselves for his wife, he treated her as in the songs and stories of yesteryear about noble knights, ,,My reign would not be possible without you, you are the first flame in the river and my heart rejoices more and more every day in your company my beloved," he said to her as he helped her onto one of the boats and they sailed across the river together.

She smiled back at him and gratefully held his hand, holding this little,,,nushell" quite insecurely in contrast to her grandfather's boats, but with every little jerk he held her tightly to him, his dark eyes like the river assuring her of her safety.

,,You are safe I promise" he murmured to her as he held her and she dipped her hand in the river, the wetness and coolness was pleasant instead of the everlasting heat and warmth, ,,I will follow you my lord husband" she replied after the words her mother and grandmother had taught her.

Before she felt his hand gently on her cheek it was just the two of them and the still river as they came closer and kissed again, ,,Oscar please my love" she whispered and she leaned her forehead against his for a moment as the two barely grown nobles lay in each other's arms enjoying the river ride while a joyful scream could be heard above them from time to time between the clouds and she followed Oscar's interested gaze closely.

The water, the fish, the river was her new home, which she quickly took to her heart. Her clothes, although now more of a bluish red and bronze, she kept the symbols of the dragon with her hair, brooches and Seasmoke herself.

Until she met her great-uncle again who had watched this marriage with a disdainful look and even if he didn't admit it, it offended him that his great-niece had managed the union in what he couldn't do in weeks, ,,Impressive isn't it what a princess can do with such looks and devotion, isn't it Lady Tully?" he had asked her at dinner as he sat next to her and looked into tired, almost haggard eyes that resembled her own in color.

She knew Oscar must have heard, she knew her great-uncle and her husband hated each other, didn't like the prospect of sharing power, ,,Her sacrifice to her family and the Queen towards my Targaryen wife is truly impressive she is not only in my house she is the Guardian of the Riverlands Prince Regent" Oscar said with pride in his voice as he raised his goblet and took her hand saying a good luck to Rhaenyra and his wife and she welcomed the restraint of her great uncle who would have otherwise only made things worse.

But all could not always go well only one moon later at the weirwood tree in the garden of the ruined castle Harenhall the houses of the Riverlands found themselves together with Oscar as their new lord and Daemon, a confrontation the princess attended with Seasmoke watching over the whole thing with an interested eye.

A confrontation that ended in blood as Daemond cut off Ser Willem's head ordered by Oscar whose eyes reflected fear for a moment as he looked into hers she clasped his hand the highborn couple watched this execution for all to see she felt the brief squeeze of her hand as Oscar truly saw this bloodshed for the first time.

,,You did the right thing Oscar they will follow you now and so will my great uncle…I won't let any words come back to haunt you I will stand for it" she told him as soon as everyone else had left the ruined garden and the young lord sat down by the tree still somewhat affected by the murder she felt herself almost reflexively wiping the blood away with a handkerchief before helping Oscar wipe his away.

She returned his silent thanks with a gentle kiss and the two sat there in silence until an idea came to her and she called her dragon who was struggling for space in the garden, ,,You have shown me the beauty of the water of your river let me show you the beauty of the sky" she said and climbed onto Seasmoke's back who seemed happy to be flying again.

She saw how it confused him for a moment, the boy rose and placed his hand carefully on the bright waremn scales and Seasmoke nudged him, mocking Ocsar who had been feeding the dragon fish with the help of his wife.

,,Can we fly through clouds? " Oscar asked as she saw courage and joy return to his gaze and he placed himself behind her, his grip on her stomach tightened and she heard his cry as Seasmoke took off with a scream and seemed to disappear into the smoke of his fire in the air.

She put one hand on Oscar's while with the other she gently guided Seasmoke, knowing that Oscar didn't understand her she would one day teach him, ,,I'll fly through anything you want look at this peace and quiet" she said louder over the sound of the loud flapping of wings and Seasmoke's hissing she heard Oscar slowly relax and hug her, laughing happily as he too saw this special something she could see every day.

Up here there didn't seem to be any problems it was quiet not too hot or too cold and peaceful, ,,It's incredibly beautiful" he mumbled continuing to hold on to her fetus as she headed for the clouds and he hesitantly held out a hand and gasped as his fingers got wet and showed her like a little child enjoying a wooden swing but she did the same and they joined hands and flew through the clouds for hours.

She heard his thanks and praise every now and then, a kiss on her cheek and both their hearts beat together in peace as they found beauty in each other's homes, together in love that would go beyond war.

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

[hksdlgsyappage]

Christmas coziness

Spencer reid oneshot

C: Fluff

Summary: In a cozy, Christmas-decorated room, she relaxes with cocoa when Spencer Reid enters, apologizing for startling her. As they talk about Christmas traditions, Spencer opens up about the real magic of being with someone special.

The setting is cozy, with the soft glow of Christmas lights twinkling around the room. The scent of cinnamon and pine fills the air, the faint crackling of the fire offering a sense of comfort. She is curled up on the couch, a mug of hot cocoa in hand. Lost in the warmth of the moment, she watches the dance of the flames when suddenly, Spencer Reid appears in the doorway.

"Hey... sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you," his voice is gentle, the warmth in it almost tangible. "I was just making sure the last of the decorations were in place... and, uh, I may have gotten distracted by the snow falling outside. It’s so beautiful this time of year, isn’t it? Everything feels a little... magical."

He steps further into the room, his eyes twinkling as he moves closer, his presence a quiet strength, grounding and yet exhilarating. She sets down her cocoa, her attention now fully on him as he settles beside her, shifting just a little closer, as if drawn to the warmth not just from the fire, but from him too. His voice, usually steady and calm, is softer now, almost shy as he continues.

"You know, I’ve been reading about Christmas traditions around the world. Some people believe that if you stand under mistletoe with someone special, it’ll bring good luck. But... I think the real magic is just being with someone who makes you feel... well, special. Like right now, for example."

She watches him, her heart doing a little flutter as he smiles at her, a little goofy, a little unsure. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, her gaze soft and uncertain, and Spencer feels his own smile tug at the corners of his lips as he responds, his voice quieter than usual.

"You... you’re right," she says, a warmth spreading through her that has nothing to do with the fire. "Being with someone who makes you feel special... it’s rare, and it’s a kind of magic all its own."

He seems taken aback for a moment, blinking at her, his smile widening with a soft chuckle that makes her chest tighten in the best way. She glances down at her hands, then back up at him, her smile turning shy again.

"Okay, I’m rambling, aren’t I? I... I just wanted to say that spending Christmas with you feels like the best present I could get. I know I’m not great at, you know, emotions sometimes, but... you make me feel things. Things I didn’t even know I could feel."

His words make her breath catch, and for a moment, she can’t find the right words to respond. Spencer Reid has always been quick with facts and figures, but moments like this—vulnerable, real—feel far too big for her to fully comprehend. She looks at him, really looks at him, and in the soft glow of the Christmas lights, his face seems to shimmer with something that’s beyond the physical.

"I... I don’t know what to say," Spencer admits, his voice low. "But I think you’re right. You’re more of a gift to me than I could ever deserve. And... I feel the same. You make me feel things I didn’t know I was capable of either."

Her eyes soften as she takes this in, and for a long moment, the room seems to hold its breath. The tree twinkles beside them, its ornaments reflecting the soft light, and Spencer can’t help but think that, maybe, she’s right. This Christmas tree isn’t just a tree. It’s a symbol, just like her. A symbol of something beautiful, something warm, something he never thought he’d find.

She pauses, glancing up at the mistletoe overhead with a playful look in her eyes. She looks back at him, a little uncertain but also full of hope, like she’s about to take a leap of faith.

"Maybe... maybe we should test the mistletoe theory?" she suggests softly. "Just to see if it works. You know... scientifically speaking."

Spencer’s heart skips another beat, and for once, he doesn’t feel the need to overthink or analyze. He looks at her, his gaze soft and full of emotion, and then nods, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Yeah. Let’s see."

And as he leans in, her breath warm against his cheek, the world seems to fade away, leaving only the two of them and the magic that had been quietly building between them all along.

[corruptedcaps]

The Devil in the Details

Tasha had been working at her new job for nearly a year now and found it desperately hard to get promoted. She was smart and great at her job but the office slut Victoria always took credit for her work. Tasha didn’t speak up for fear of repercussions from Victoria and her two equally bad friends Marie and Lisa. She knew if she kept at it eventually the higher ups would notice. Tasha knew Victoria and her bitchy cohort were bad but not evil.

That changed when one night after working late at the office she overheard them in a disused conference room preparing to do some real evil. Satanic ritual evil. They had moved the table and chairs to one side and drew a pentagram on the floor. Kneeling in the unholy symbol was the queen bitch herself Victoria.

"Are you sure about this Vic? This seems a little too much even for us." Said Lisa starting to question their plan.

"Dont back out now loser, once I summon the demon and he makes me a succubus then I'll enslave our little CEO to do my bidding and we will run this place. You two will have a place by my side and can have all the money and cock you want." Victoria replied. Lisa and Marie looked at each other and smiled, liking the sound of what they were hearing.

"Now let's chant so our new lives can start." Victoria said with a wicked smile and the three began to chant in a language Tasha had never heard before. Tasha had snuck into the room and was hiding behind the mound of tables and chairs. She took out her phone and began recording. She didn't believe in magic or demons but knew this sort of thing would be worthy of a firing so she needed the proof.

As the chanting became louder Tasha felt a chill in the air then suddenly the candles surrounding the pentagram blew out. A blast of hellfire erupted in front of Victoria and there appeared a demon. He had long black horns adorn his red head and a pointed tail floated behind him with almost a mind of its own. The three women bowed before him in reverance.

"Why do mere mortals summon I, Zepar demon of lust, greed and power?" The demon snarled.

“I seek magnificent power my lord. I wish to have my body and soul corrupted into that of a succubus, one fit for an evil queen. I will be your conduit on earth for you to receive the souls of the innocent so you can grow powerful and return to earth as king.” Victoria said. Zepar looked her up and down for a moment, seemingly intrigued by her offer but then let out a deep and dark laugh.

“I have no doubt that is what you desire but my dark magic chooses the host, not the other way around. However I do detect one of you mortals are worthy of my gift. Only the one the magic chooses will become my succubus queen, the others must serve her. Do you agree to my terms?” Zepar said with a mischievous grin. Victoria smiled back at him. She knew she was the one worthy of his power. Her two friends were pathetic next to her.

“We of course accept your terms.” Victoria said. As the words left her mouth, a surge of dark energy pulsed through the room, causing the floor to tremble and the air to thicken. The candles reignited with an eerie, blue flame, casting long, wavering shadows across the walls. Victoria's eyes gleamed with anticipation as she stood, facing the demon with unwavering confidence.

Zepar extended his hand, and a swirling vortex of black smoke began to form in his palm. "Let the ritual begin." He commanded, his voice reverberating through the room. Tasha, still hidden behind the mound of furniture, felt her heart race. She knew she had to do something, but fear paralyzed her. Her phone continued recording, capturing every sinister word and action.

Victoria stretched her arms out wide, waiting for the dark magic to take her but to her and everyone's surprise it suddenly shot across the room to Tasha's hiding spot.

The black smoke enveloped Tasha, lifting her off the ground. Her body convulsed as the dark magic took hold, reshaping her form into something otherworldly yet darkly beautiful. Her eyes turned a deep, mesmerizing violet, and her tits grew fuller. Her nails elongated into elegant, sharp points, painted obsidian black and her hair cascaded down in long, dark, straight waves. Her lips became plump and enticing, a deep shade of crimson.

At first, fear gripped Tasha's mind, her thoughts a whirlwind of panic. What was happening to her? She could feel the dark magic coursing through her veins, twisting her mind. But as the transformation continued, the fear began to fade, replaced by a strange sense of superiority. This power, this strength, it was exactly what she needed to finally rise above Victoria and her cronies.

As she embraced the darkness inside of her now, two small red horns grew painfully out from the top of her head. The pain was now comforting to her, it made her feel more alive than she ever had been before.

Her boring work clothes ignited and disintegrated, replaced by tight black latex that clung to her newly transformed figure, accentuating every curve. She landed gracefully, exuding an aura of seductive power that made the air around her crackle with intensity.

Zepar's gaze shifted from Victoria to Tasha, who moved to the demon’s side with a smirk. "It seems the darkness has chosen." He declared, his voice filled with a sinister glee. Victoria's confident smile faltered, replaced by a look of shock and disbelief.

"No!" Victoria screamed, her face contorting with rage. "It was supposed to be me!" She lunged towards Tasha, but Tasha raised her hand, sending a wave of dark energy that knocked her back.

"Your ambition blinded you, Victoria." Tasha said coldly. "The power goes to the one most worthy. Me."

Tasha looked down at Victoria, Lisa, and Marie, her violet eyes reflecting a mixture of surprise and newfound authority. "Kneel before your queen." She said, her voice resonating with an eerie power.

Lisa and Marie, too frightened to defy this new Tasha, immediately dropped to their knees. Victoria, seething with fury, reluctantly followed suit, her eyes blazing with hatred.

Zepar turned to Tasha, a satisfied smile on his face. "Now, my succubus queen, you shall serve as my conduit on Earth. You will gather the souls of the innocent and corrupt them into weapons for our upcoming war. Once you have, I will return and together we shall bring chaos to this world."

"I look forward to your return my king." She said, her voice purring with affection for the demon as Zephar leaned in and the two kissed deep and long.

Zepar let out a dark, triumphant laugh before he vanished in a swirl of black smoke, leaving behind the lingering scent of sulfur.

Tasha stood tall in her new form, the room now filled with an eerie silence. She turned her gaze to the three women before her, who were still on their knees, trembling with a mix of fear and awe.

Tasha's lips curled into an evil smirk. She could feel the power coursing through her veins, the dark magic making her feel invincible. She took a step closer, her heels clicking ominously on the floor. "Before you can be worthy to serve me, you need to be punished. You must learn your place, and I will ensure you never forget it." She declared, her eyes gleaming with a sadistic pleasure.

With a wave of her hand she conjured an enormous strap on that wrapped tightly to her hips. Waving her other hand, dark tendrils of magic shot out, wrapping around the three women, binding them in place. "Let's begin with you Victoria." Tasha said in dark glee.

[shirefantasies]

LoTR Characters When You Give Them Flowers

Sorry for the absence, been crazy times 😅 Just something cute I couldn’t get out of my head, enjoy~ Also, correcting my Faramir drought let’s frickin go 🤙🏻

Aragorn

The last town you’d stopped in, there’d been a girl. A little thing, hardly more than seven or eight years old, and there she stood with a basket in hand. She was selling flowers, long and dainty stems with white blooms, no doubt to help her family sitting off in the distance.

The moment he laid eyes upon her, Aragorn had bent over, pressing the loaf he had just bought into her hand and whispering some words of hope you wished you could hear. Heart leaping, you watched him move along before approaching the girl yourself.

~

When night had fallen and a fire began crackling, you took the flowers from behind your back and held them out to the ranger you so dearly loved. The smile that instantly graced him was truly a worthwhile blessing.

“I know where you found these,” he remarked, turning them gently over in his hand as his smile softened.

You mirrored the expression. “I thought they could use a bowl of soup to split the loaf with. And you deserve a gift, even to the smallest gifts of the earth.”

Wordlessly, Aragorn took your hand with the one not holding the flowers, clutching it tight as his blue eyes gazed into yours.

Legolas

“Do you elves know anything of the language of flowers?”

Legolas’s brows furrowed a bit at that, and you couldn’t help giggling at the sight of his expression, his next choice of words. “Words of the trees, yes, but flowers? Perhaps an old tale.”

“No, no,” you shook your head, still smiling, “my people have quite the elaborate custom around flowers. Different blooms in different colors make quite unique statements. Take roses for instance- they come in a whole slew of colors.”

“I see,” he nodded, “so a yellow rose would speak volumes apart from a red one, then?”

Your heart leapt at Legolas’s choices, his unwitting contrast between the blossoms of friendship and passionate, deep love. “Indeed. There are even flowers that say ‘your letter was received’! But if this is unfamiliar to the elves, any flowers would be quite the surprise, would they not?”

“We have always had appreciation for the earth’s beauty.”

You took that as as close of a yes as you’d get, shaking your head as you shifted in the hard base of your seat, turning back to grab the vase of flowers you’d made for your friend, the one who made your heart beat like no other. White lilies could symbolize mourning, but also that one’s love was pure. Perfect, perhaps, if unrequited. Pink irises for hope, though. Hundred-leaved roses in pink for a love truly sincere. Bursts of snow and sunset pink dotted with faint yellow, all curated by your hand to shine with words you hadn’t the heart to speak aloud.

“As do I. These I arranged for you, in fact!” Hands curling around the vase, you held your gift aloft.

Legolas’s dark eyes lit up, mischief crossing his handsome face. “Now that I’ll be guessing the meaning?”

You flushed, rising from your seat as his hands covered yours, accepting your offering. “Well, I was just curious if you’ve heard of-”

“Oh, it is far too late for that! I’m certain Lord Elrond has books on the subject. By tomorrow I’ll be an expert, and who knows? Perhaps you’ll find some flowers of your own.”

You couldn’t help shakily smiling as Legolas’s eyes peered into yours glittering so, his hands still resting warmly over yours.

Boromir

“Boromir! Look!”

The man in question turned his head at the sound of your voice, watching as you bounded his way with hands full of flowers. Their bright color perfectly brought out the tone of your twinkling eyes, eyes that glittered unlike anything Boromir had ever witnessed before.

“Lovely, truly,” he inclined his head toward them as you reached him, “the finest. Where did you come by these?”

“Off at the far end of the meadow!”

Boromir chuckled deeply. “The firewood may have been forgotten, then?”

Pouting suited you, didn’t it? Adorable indeed. “Well, I just saw these and-”

“Worry not,” he slid an arm about your waist, “firewood is no emergency. You deserve this small joy- we all do.”

Glancing down a bit, you extended your hand, raising your treasure such that it practically brushed you both as it connected you. “Well, they are for you.” Were you flushing?

“For me? Well, what a gift! I suppose they do suit me more than you. After all…” Smiling, Boromir tightened his grip around you just a bit. “The most beautiful blossom in leagues is right here. If you keep this little bouquet they will envy you forever.”

Gimli

You stand beneath the awning’s shade, swaying slightly as you tend to the baskets placed along your cart. Your favorite is one filled with mountain poppies collected near the base of the snows, cheery and delicate and brisk as it had felt to be there trimming them. Truly you love your life, though it gets lonely having only plants to speak to. Sometimes you find yourself drifting into fantasy, imagining someone to protect you. You like to think you’re no damsel in distress, but the truth of the matter is you’ve never been a fighter and the village ravagers have been drawing closer.

~

A woman purchases a simple vase of sunflowers, nodding gratefully as you pass them to her. Behind her, though, emerges a shorter figure- a dwarf, by the looks of his armor and beard. You smile. That trip to the mountains introduced you to a host of very friendly dwarrowdams who bid you stay in their boardinghouse, boisterous though it may have been.

“Good afternoon,” you greet him from aside an arrangement of daisies.

“Good afternoon indeed! Tell me, though, why one as fair as yourself is hiding behind a lot of old daisies, eh?”

Flushing, you shrug and step around the side of the cart, removing all obstructions. “I suppose I’m just a bit used to it is all. Were you looking for anything in particular?”

The dwarf shakes his head. “Nay, I was just struck by the sight of the one smile this town seems to have.”

It is a fair point. Rohan has been downcast of late, hope in short supply with all the attacks. Your lot was seen as mere peasants in the way of it all.

“Times have been hard. The orc packs have been running rampant for a long time. I- I don’t know how much longer we can hold out.”

Smirking victoriously, the dwarf leans on his axe. “You wouldn’t happen to mean the pack of stragglers that just got slaughtered, would you?”

You lit up. “You’ve seen them?”

“With my own eyes. They certainly won’t be bothering you anymore.”

“Pick anything you’d like here, please, it isn’t much, but it is the least I could do to repay your gift,” you insisted, waving a hand over your display.

He scanned your cart before a look of comical shock burst across his face at the poppies. Noting it, you lifted the basket gingerly into his hands.

“Those are my favorites, too! And they are yours.”

“Only if you keep one to remember me by. Gimli, son of Glóin,” he introduces himself sweepingly, outstretched hand deftly producing a poppy to hold out your way.

Frodo

“What is this one?” Frodo inquired, holding up a small leather tome.

“Oh,” you tilted your head, “that one is a bit different. Here, let me show you.”

Shifting to sit at his side, you took the book from his outstretched palms and opened it, revealing pages blank save for the flowers you’d pressed in them, splashes of yellow, red, purple, green.

“I try to add one from everywhere I’ve been,” you added, turning the pages, “I even have a page from the Shire.”

The spread of the next pages revealed stems of lavender you’d plucked from gardens, Shire daisies, even some pansies you’d plucked from Bag End itself, and plenty more, too. Frodo’s bright eyes widened at the sight of it, a smile growing upon his lips.

“This is a treasure to see- a reminder of home, and one I can touch, too,” he sighed, brushing his fingers softly over the crisp petals, “I remember the feel of them again.”

His relief was practically palpable in the air as his eyelids fluttered shut in content, smile growing. Heart swelling, you pushed it closer to him.

“It’s yours.”

“I can’t-” He protested.

Handing the leather-bound book over to him, you nodded. “Yes, you can. Your happiness, your relief, is a much greater gift than these to me. The earth will renew it over again on my travels,” you told him with a smile.

One of Frodo’s hands left the petals long enough to linger atop yours. “I will never be parted from it.”

Sam

“Sam! Oh, Sam, wait up!”

Turning his golden head your way, Sam smiles the moment he sees you, sending your heart leaping from your chest as he speaks your name softly in reply.

“What is it?”

“Well, nothing, really,” you reply shyly, hands behind your back, “I just saw these and thought of you.”

Alight is the only word you could have used to describe Sam’s face as your hands leave your back and bring forth the bunch of little bluish-white blossoms you had just discovered a little off the road.

“Absolute beauts, those are,” he breathes with a grin, “harebell, they’re called. They like to grow in rocks for some reason, the little buggers.”

His knowledge sweeps you off your feet, but you can’t help asking. “Do you like them?”

“Of course I do! These are some really pretty ones, very bright indeed!”

Holding them out, you giggle nervously. “Well, good, because they’re for you! I picked these to give you, Sam.”

Jaw dropping and green eyes widening, Sam reaches forward and gently takes the miniature bouquet from your hands. “You mean it?” He asks with another bright grin.

“I really do,” you smile and nod.

For the rest of the day those harebells don’t leave Sam’s hand, and any time he has a moment’s idleness he’s looking at them, fingers gently caressing the blossoms as he glances your way with a smile.

Merry

Normally Merry dipped you. But you changed that that night. Normally he was the one to sweep you off your feet, charm you, but it was you who stole his breath away that night. The way you took his hand and pulled him closer into the dance, twirled him and brought him inches from your face, only had him wanting more.

What really got him, though? The rose you’d handed him at the end of it all. Such a simple gesture and yet he couldn’t tear his eyes off the thing. Or you.

Surely you noticed. The two of you were quite comfortable, else you wouldn’t be dancing so, but no one had gone beyond any teasing. It was all in good fun, unspoken attraction that suddenly grew, enveloping and consuming Merry’d beating heart as he looked at you with new passion. He needed someone who made his heart race so by his side. Someone like you could keep him up being the best hobbit he could be.

And that was why he marched right up to you later in the evening, taking one more massive swig of ale before he approached, rose twirling between his fingertips all the while.

“I hope you meant this,” he nodded down to the bright red bloom, “as much as I mean this.”

Your lips parted, the beginnings of a question fell from them, but not much escaped before your lips were pulled into Merry’s, your hands falling against his chest.

Pippin

Never had you felt so light as when you were around one mister Peregrin Took. All your time with him, it seemed, was spent in joy, laughter, comfort. One look from him was all it took for a smile to creep onto your face. One song from him and it was all you could do not to kiss him right then and there.

For your part, though, you weren’t sure how he felt, thus you acted accordingly, enjoying the time you had with him as much as possible without pushing your feelings. Well, not too much- he was quite fun to tease, after all!

A flower had caught your eye as you strolled, some little cousin to a daisy bursting from brush in a merry little yellow spark you couldn’t help taking for yourself.

Well, mostly. “For you,” you said in a playful lilt, holding it out his way.

The manner in which his smile and shoulders rose had you shyly grinning. “For me?” He repeated, ecstatic as he was incredulous.

The moment you nodded the flowers was all but snatched from your hand. “Where do you think it would look better, here?” First he tucked it into his mess of curls. “Or here?” Tucking it next into the buttonhole of his coat, he grinned at you.

Giggling, you told him he didn’t have to wear it.

“Oh, I want to. I want the whole of Middle Earth to know you’ve given me this gift.” Comical as his words were, the shine in his eyes told you Pippin was sincere.

Faramir

The steward of Gondor had gone up before the people to address them on some perceived victory. To his side he had pulled up his son, the elder one, and named him spearhead of it all. Boromir was a great man, certainly, but so in no shorter words was his brother Faramir, the dearer sibling to your heart.

The moment you met Faramir in the crowd of people, mostly men celebrating in their keep outfit, dented as it was, you rested a hand upon his shoulder. “Let nobody so insignificant taint your victory, Faramir. Were it not for you, half the city would not even be standing.”

“We could have kept it as it was if we-”

“No,” you shook your head, leaning a bit further on him, “none of that. You are a man, not a miracle worker. And so is your brother and everyone else in your family. You have fortitude of mind, strength of heart.”

“Yet less the swing of a sword,” Faramir chuckled.

“The swing of a sword alone a kingdom does not make,” you teasingly chastised, waving a finger, “besides, you have something none of them will ever have.”

“And what is that?” He asks, gently lifting your hand off his shoulder and up to his lips.

“My heart,” you reply, pulling one of the flowers woven into your hair out to press it into his other palm.

Faramir pulls those petals to his lips, too, twirling the stem thoughtfully with a hum. “Then I am, indeed, blessed.”

Eomer

Every time it felt like your heart would shatter. He left again and again but it never got easier wondering if the man you’d grown to love would be torn from you in a brutal battle, one lax moment ending it all.

Tears pricked at your eyes as he looked into them with a smile far too easygoing to you. Too assured.

“Do not look so defeated,” Eomer told you, reaching down with a hand to caress your face in a way that sent your heart leaping, “it’s a small raiding party, that is all.”

“I know, I just-” Your breath hitched, words caught in your throat. “I care about you. I don’t want to see you hurt.”

At that, he smiled, releasing his hand again. “You should worry more for the orcs.”

“Still, though, here,” shaking your head, you produced the bundle of flowers you’d tied together for him, face warming, “take these. For luck.”

Eomer’s smile widened even as his horse grew a bit restless; giving its mane a quick pat, he reached down to accept your proffered gift. Sweeping some golden hair off his shoulder, he tucked your blossoms into his saddle.

“Now I know I’ll make it,” he replied, and with a wink he rode off.

Needless to say, he has gifts of his own planned when he returns: a confession, once and for all, and a kiss.

Haldir

"Come now, keep up!"

"Whatever for?"

Laughing, you turn to face Haldir once more and see him ascending the spiraling steps behind you with a look of exasperation. Perhaps, too, amusement. Long, fair hair whips about his face in the breeze as a smile teases onto his lips.

“Is it so bad to spend a little time together?” You shot back merrily, feet still eagerly tapping upon every plank that raised you higher amidst the boughs.

“I only ask because I know of your schemes,” Haldir teases in response.

“If you must know,” you stopped, hands on your hips before you waved one about a spray of vines snaking over the tree’s bark, powder-blue blossoms extending from them, “my scheme was to see if you'd noticed these in your travels."

"I had not," he murmured in response, stepping to your side to caress a pale petal gently, warmth filling you at his proximity.

With a small smile, you took up the age-old habit you'd developed in childhood so many years past, deftly plucking and weaving stems together as Haldir watched with amused interest. Unsure as you were how much time passed, he stood stock-still even as you finished your work, placing the crown of flowers atop his head.

"Here you are, My King," you jested with a smile, taking two steps forward.

Grey eyes staring into yours, Haldir took your hand, shaking his head softly and taking a blossom of his own. "Wait here. No king should rule alone, after all."

Eowyn

Riding brought such joy and exhilaration as one could hardly know elsewhere, especially with a fair and fearless maid like Lady Eowyn at your side. The smile you so longed to see bloomed across her face as you both urged your horses on, picking up speed into a run across the green of the plains. The thudding of hooves invigorated you as the pair of you pressed on, riding like the wind until whim took you to dismount and stop for a breather.

As you sat upon the grass, a dotting of pink flowers amidst the waving green caught your eye; joy seizing you, you picked one after the other until you had a tiny handful. Eowyn’s eyes, you saw, drifted over your work, but she said nothing.

Nothing, that was, until you broke the silence. “These remind me of you, you know. We often think of flowers here as signs of mourning, but these? These are hope. Bits of brightness out of nothing.”

She smiled faintly, shyly, blue eyes shining. “Sometimes it does not feel so.”

“Well, to me it is so,” you replied, extending your little bouquet her way.

The glitter of her eyes somehow brightened as she looked upon your gift, smile opening all the way. You were overcome at the sight of it, the return of warmth to the fairest of faces, and before you realized it you had leaned in and pressed your lips to hers.

Arwen

“But surely you have already received so many mighty gifts!”

“None were from you,” Arwen replied simply, breathily, waving a hand, “come, show me.”

Her smile, breathtaking even in the simplest of moments, encouraged you to pull your hands from behind your back, revealing the bouquet you’d recently tied. With the best ribbon you’d found on hand, of course, beautiful white silk lined with thin silver.

“You see, I wanted to honor you with gifts pure as your heart- gifts from the earth. These are-”

“From the garden where we met!” Arwen was one to remain composed, often feeling the pressure of her years and upbringing and, surely, wisdom. “Of course I remember! You tripped and I caught you!”

Unable to help flushing beneath her grin and the rush of memory, the heat across your face as you pitched over a stone and were captured by the hand of the most graceful maiden you’d ever seen, you simply smiled. “That would be the time. Ever since that day I cannot walk past white roses without thinking of you. And that seems fitting,” you added.

Arwen pursed her lips, eyebrows raising curiously. “Oh?”

“Pure,” you repeated, “fair and beloved as all. Delicate, but formidable. More than capable of defending themselves.”

“Are you saying I have thorns?” She teased, leaning an arm upon your shoulder, breath warm against your ear.

“I’ve seen what you can do,” you shot back, “perhaps I am.”

“Well, at any rate, I love this gift far beyond all displays of wealth. This is a gift of your heart, is it not?”

The moment you nodded, her arms were thrown about your neck, pulling you into the warmth of her chest and letting your heart beat against hers.

[chuubian]

Kinktober week four:

Taste

Tags Yae miko x fem reader, mdni, witch au, aphrodisiacs, breaking and entering, face sitting, Yae is just a tiny bit mean

Summary While looking for shelter during a blizzard, you find a small cottage- missing its owner. When you finally meet the witch who occupies the house, you inexplicably feel drawn to her.

A/N Can you guys tell i hate landlords

From the frosty scenery surrounding you, only a measly little cottage could be seen in the distance. The fact that it's holding up at all during a blizzard as powerful as this one, is a miracle in itself. A sense of relief washes over you. Finally, some refuge. Getting kicked out in the middle of winter was brutal. No amount of begging convinced your landlord to show any kind of mercy. Apparently, they already had a new tenant waiting. One who had actually paid the ridiculous prices set, and earned the property owners consideration. It had been hours out in the storm.  Snow caked the bottom of your boots- melting it just enough so the freezing water soaks through the fabric, and numbing your toes. There were many times during your journey where you contemplated laying down and letting the snowdrift smother you.

Hugging the coat tighter around yourself, the muscles of your legs struggled to traverse through the thick blanket of ice layering the ground. As you got closer, lungs burning, you took note of the symbols carved into the snow surrounding the cottage. Did an artist live here? Clearly it was some kind of creative soul- golden ornaments and bells hung from the walls, jingling softly as they’re jostled by the air.

The door is unlocked. You easily push it open, engulfed in a rush of hot air that thaws your frozen muscles. It's surprisingly quiet, save for the crackling fire. No one seems to be home, but why would they leave the fireplace on? That's so dangerous. Either way, you walk in deeper, cautious of any inhabitants that may come at you with a sword. The cottage is relatively small, consisting of only one bedroom, a small kitchen, and a bathroom that didn't even have a sink. The living room was cramped with some furniture and a coffee table. Everywhere you looked, every table had at least one cauldron. Did the owner really need to cook in every room?

Grabbing a small blanket from a nearby closet, you curl up in front of the chimney. The heat radiating from the fire soothes your tired body, lulling you into a tranquil slumber. Waves of comfort ebb and flow through your figure- allowing your mind to go blank.

Your dreams are filled with scenes of a pink haired lady taunting you, finding every one of your weaknesses and using them against you. She smiles cruelly while you writhe in pain- throat searing as you scream, clawing at your throbbing stomach. Your spine feels like it's being ripped out of your body and she doesn't even take a second look. Diabolical laughter echoed through your head. The wicked expression on her face is singed into your brain, permanently lingering in your subconscious.

Panting, chest aching, you're woken from your sleep forcibly. Your eyes dart around frantically. The fireplace has been turned off but somehow you don't feel cold- if anything, there's a thin sheen of sweat covering your skin. You rip the blanket off, heart racing, and stand up. There, hiding in the darkness, is the silhouette of a person. Staring at you. A shiver runs down your spine. Your gut is begging you to run, but your feet remain planted firmly in the ground.

“W-who are you?”

“I should ask you the same thing.”

The figure steps forward and pink hair pops into view- just like that lady. No way. How? She was supposed to stay in your nightmares, not become real. Once again, your body is reminded of the torture she put you through. Your stomach feels like it's eating its own lining, like the acid is burning through the meat of your digestive system. All the saliva in your mouth dries up, leaving your throat parched. The look on your features must have been visibly panicked because the pink haired woman quickly steps forward- laying a delicate hand over your shoulder as her fluffy tail wraps around your waist. Although you're terrified, her scent fully engulfs you- it smells like cherry blossoms. It’s almost hypnotizing.

“Awww don't be scared…i wont hurt you, I'm assuming you got the nightmares huh?”

“How..?”

Breathless, your voice comes out in muted whispers.

“You didn't notice… You can break into my house but not use your brain to put the context clues together?”

Looking around in a frenzied state, your eyes gloss over all the details. There's nothing. What does she mean?

“You still don't get it…”

Her saccharine voice looms over you, tricking you into a false sense of security.

“Let me spell it out for you.”

Slender hands take hold of your chin, forcing you to look over at the coffee table.

“Do you see that?”

“T-the pot?”

She hums softly, breath brushing over the back of your neck.

“Yes, the cauldron.”

Sharp nails bite into the flesh of your cheek- mildly stinging. This time, she drags your eyeline up to the ceiling.

“Herbs?”

“Yes, darling. I’m drying them.”

Is there actually something you're supposed to be noticing?

“You like to cook?”

Your muscles are stiff, unwilling to unwind. A certain fear gnawed at the back of your mind- would she kill you if you got it wrong? How is this even possible? Maybe you're just in another wicked dream. Your landlord could have put a curse on you for not paying the rent on time. If there was any way to develop magical abilities overnight, he certainly would have figured it out. That's just how determined he is to get more money.

“No.”

Pushing  her chest against your back, she slowly walks you towards the door. Her legs and yours knock together on the way- almost making you face plant onto the shiny wooden floors beneath you. The whole house shakes as the entrance is yanked open. Bitter cold air rushes towards you, attaching itself to any semblance of warmth- chilling you to the bone. At least the storm stopped, only small snowflakes flutter down gently.

“What do you see here?”

Only ice is visible. Even the sun has hidden itself away behind gray clouds.

“Snow.”

Her hand smoothly flattens over your lower stomach as her tail wraps itself around your leg. It helps keep you toasty.

“That's not all, you don't notice anything off?”

“No… it just looks like snow.”

Sighing, she pulls you back inside and slams the door shut.

“You're a little dim aren't you?”

“I don't understand….”

The pink haired woman tuts condescendingly, tapping your cheek with her polished nail.

“I'm a witch, darling.”

Your brain  swirls, eyes widening. A witch..?! You broke into a witch's house?? Blood freezing, icicles stream through your veins forcibly- the tips of your fingers throb and prickle painfully. It all made sense now. The weird drawings in the snow, the ornaments outside, cauldrons and herbs strewn throughout the house. It was all for her spells. Giggling, her silky tail tickles the sides of your waist.

“Oh come on… How could you not have known?”

Heated fingers creep up your spine to the base of your neck, tapping lightly. Tingles emerge from the spots she touches, sending chills through your body. She's so.. touchy. And you don't even mind, despite the fact that she was the creation of your nightmares.

“But, when I was asleep-”

“I know, I know.”

She interrupts. A delicate finger taps your lips, shushing you.

“It's just a simple spell to punish intruders… but you don't seem like you mean harm.”

Releasing her pleasant, lukewarm hold on you, she rests her hand on her hips- tail thumping against the floor impatiently.

“Sit down. If you don't want me to kick you out with the snow, you'll have to come up with a reason for breaking into my house.”

Without giving you time to respond she heads off in the direction of the kitchen. The jewelry and ornaments hanging off her body and clothing clink loudly as she walks. For a few minutes, you’re granted a break from the constant anxiety brewing and expanding over you. Thankfully, she didn't seem angry. If you just explained, you're sure she'd understand. Holding a teacup and pot set, the woman walks back into the living room- bringing with her an air of coziness. She made tea. In adorable pink cups. It's unnecessarily sweet. You trespassed and she's still treating you like a welcomed guest.

Heart pounding in your chest, your wobbly hand reaches for a cup- desperate for the warmth she once enveloped you in.

“So why are you here?”

She watches as you take a sip, not moving to grab her own teacup.

Steaming hot liquid oozes down your esophagus and settles in your belly- acting like a furnace to spread its blazing flare through your extremities. Blood rushes up to your cheeks, casting a healthy glow over your face. You set the cup back down and take a deep breath. She'll understand… right?

“Well, my landlord kicked me out of my place. I didn't have anywhere to stay so I started walking around, and then I saw the cottage… I really am sorry, but I thought I was going to die.”

Her eyes narrow, tail flicking delicately. It’s like she can peer right into your core, reading you with ease and determining if you're lying with just one glance. Laying one hand on the plush couch, she leans into it- getting comfortable. She seems satisfied with your answer as she hums quietly.

“Okay, I believe you. You can stay here for the time being.”

“T-that's it? It's that easy?”

She nods.

“It's that easy.”

Heat surges under your skin. It feels like you're floating, like your body is lighter- not weighed down by all the stressful problems that had plagued you for the past month. Maybe you didn't have a lot of money, but the pink haired woman let you stay. And although she's a witch, she promised she wasn't going to hurt you.

“Thank you so much!”

She's so kind. You have to find a way to  pay her back somehow.

“I-I'll clean up around the house and stuff! I won't be a bother, I promise.”

She chuckles, and suddenly it seems like the sun is right in front of you. Her smile is so bright, vivid.

“That would be appreciated. If you want, you can also try out my potions, I have been needing a cute little test subject.”

“Uhm… Would it be dangerous…?”

Crossing her pale legs, she taps her chin for a few seconds- thinking.

“You don't need to worry about it, darling. You'll be fine.”

That's all the confirmation you need.

“Okay then! I'll do it.”

She smirks mischievously, it almost makes you suspicious. Almost.

“Great, we'll start tomorrow.”

Standing up, she turns to walk away. Before she can go off to do whatever it is she does all day, you stop her.

“Wait!”

Her head whips back around, velvety tail swaying smoothly. It's as if it's trying to get you to touch it- hypnotizing you.

“You never told me your name.”

“It's Yae. Yae Miko. Don't forget it, darling.”

Her slim fingers drum against your cheek, almost like she's scolding you. Before you know it, she's gone again, hiding herself away in some corner of the house that you can't access.

The rest of the day is spent alone. Cleaning, although tedious when you lived alone, is now a welcome activity. At least you had a place to clean. You assumed Yae didn't mind you taking her food, but she didn't come out to scold you for using one of her cauldrons and cooking. It was kind of worrying, actually. Did she not need to eat? You even made a large enough amount for her to have some too.

Thoughtless, menial labor was tranquilizing. As the muddy, contaminated water was poured away, so was your unease. Once you feel satisfied with the work you've done, you grab your blanket again, setting up on the couch in front of the fireplace. This would be much more comfortable than the hard wooden floor you'd slept on the night before. Your body sinks into the cushiony sofa, engulfing you in a cocoon of warmth and satisfaction. The crackling of the flames acts as white noise- luring you into a restful sleep.

Fortunately, no more nightmares occur. As morning time approaches, you're woken by a bright golden light in your face. Eyes blinking open, you're temporarily blinded by the dazzling sun rays. When you sit up and face the other direction, you can barely see Yae in the corner through the passing blind spot in your vision. Why does she stare so much? It's seriously unsettling. She doesn't wait for you to fully wake up before she does.

“Get up, darling. I need your help.”

You groan.

“Already? I just woke up.”

“Oh, do you have something else to do?”

Grumbling, you rip the snuggly sheets off your body.

“Fine.”

Yae grins smugly, leading you through maze-like hallways. She must have done something to the house because you don't remember seeing these places the night you broke in. The wooden boards are cold against your feet, freezing the balls of your feet- threatening to cramp them all the way from your toes, up to your ankles. She finally stops in front of a small pink door, ears twitching before she walks in, not saying a word.

As you pass through the entrance, the breath is stolen from your lungs…. Wow. It's huge on the inside. Like a giant public library, but instead of books, the shelves are filled with various dried herbs and multi-colored potions. Your nose is immediately attacked with the scent of iris and cherry blossoms. Large windows let the sun to light up the room beautifully. Can Yae’s magic really be so strong that the glass didn't break during that horrible blizzard?

“Come on, don't be shy.”

Fuzzy fur drapes itself around your hips- pushing you towards the small table in the middle, covered in various glass bottles, herbs, and spilled liquids. You don't dare to touch them. Yae’s delicate hands pluck out a dainty thin vial filled with a bright pink elixir. The cork at the top, kept everything from spilling out as she handed it to you.

“Try this.”

You pop open the bottle, sniffing it. It's sickeningly sweet. Your throat and tongue are violently assaulted by the steam wafting up- your gums ache to bite down on something, mouth watering.

“What is this? Pure sugar?”

Tapping the bottom of the vial, she tries to force it up to your lips.

“Nope, it's a potion to help with your… loneliness.”

“I never said I was lonely.”

Holding a finger up to her lips, she giggles playfully.

“I can read between the lines. Now go on, this is your one job, it's very safe I promise.”

Slightly embarrassed, you bring the cool glass vial up to your lips and tip it back. As soon as the potion touches your lips and tongue you're hit with the intense honeyed spiciness. Your eyes water as the viscous liquid slides down your throat- the chance to lick the remainder off your lips never comes as it absorbs itself into your skin. A tickle in your throat forces you to double over coughing. It's like your stomach is hopelessly attempting to push the elixir back up out of your esophagus.

Peering out the window, you run your tongue over your teeth- becoming conscious of the gritty sensation left behind in your mouth.

“How do you feel?”

Your attention is drawn back to Yae, core tightening when you study the exquisite features on her face and the elegant outline of her figure. Her eyes meet yours and your entire world collapses. Sediment cascades down on you- crushing and burying you under heavy rock. Answering her question is the last thing on your mind. Your tongue feels swollen in your mouth, and your brain is spinning.

Static buzzes through the roots of your hair, down to the bottom of your feet when Yae snakes a slender arm around your waist, pushing her body up against yours. She's so warm.. it makes you want to melt under her, let her manipulate and contort you any way she pleases like melted chocolate. Moisture covers your skin, leaving the surface of it sticky.

“Is it hot? hm?”

Her voice is deeper than before, alluring. She was tempting you. Like a black widow- seducing you, only to destroy you after she's gotten all she needs from you. Unconsciously, you nod.

“I bet… lay down.”

All it takes from her is a little push towards the long couch near the window, before your body obeys by itself. Your body descends into the plush cushions and Yaes legs tangle with yours. In this position, where she straddles your thigh with her thin arms propped next to your face, you’re enveloped by her scent. It's intoxicating. You'll never be able to smell cherry blossoms without thinking of her ever again.

“W-what was that potion?”

Sharp nails gently scratch down your cheek, creating sensitive tingles over it.

“Nothing much, just a simple aphrodisiac.”

Fire ignites your nerves alight, it's like you're being burned alive. The wind gets knocked out of your lungs as she drags her smooth hand down your neck and rests it over your sternum.

“You're e-evil,”

She tsks disapprovingly, pinching the small exposed flesh of your chest. Small, needy  whines free themselves from your lungs as you arch into her touch. How could this have happened? You're so stupid to trust a stranger and yet… you want her. More than you need air to breathe.

“Don't talk to me like that. Unless you want me to leave you here by yourself.”

Keening, your hands travel up to the edges of her uniform, curling around the fabric hysterically.

“Noo.. stay.”

“That's more like it.”

She purrs into your ear, already tugging the hem of your shirt up- working quickly to undress you. Fervid palms smooth over your exposed stomach. Her pupils are dilated and she keeps dragging her tongue over her teeth and lips. Like she wants to ingest you. The tail behind her is flicking impatiently, whipping your legs painfully.

Plump lips crash against your own, dragging her tongue against your bottom lip- she doesn't wait for permission before forcing herself inside. Deepening the kiss, her body leans down more, pressing her plush tits against yours. She's greedy. Taking all she can from you- the air from your lungs, the ability to think clearly. Her teeth clash against yours, like she's trying to eat you.

Pointed, needle-like nails dig into the flesh of your cheeks as Yae pulls away harshly. Your lips make a wet smacking sound, clinging to each other.

“Can I sit on your face?”

You nod dumbly, lips swollen and parted. It was nice that she bothered to ask, but at this point she could ask to kill your entire family and your brain would be stupid  enough to go ahead and say yes. Yae quickly pulls the stupid uniform over her head. Your eyes rove over her graceful figure, taking in the softness of her hips, the alluring curve of her waist. Mouth watering, your eyesight moves down to where she’s still covered by her panties. Heat washes over you, twisting uncomfortably. You need her to hurry. She was being so slow on purpose.

“Please… Yae…”

Chucking, she gently slaps your hip. Your body craves more.

“I know, I know.”

Thumbs hook under the waistband of her underwear, pulling down until they’re fully off- thrown somewhere in the distance but you dont care at this point. All your mind can think about is how she would taste, how she would feel. The pink haired witch straddles your face and you're met with the sight of her glistening pussy. Tears spring into your eyes as she puts her full weight on you. Finally. This is all you wanted.

The pressure against you is a welcome kind. Not like the pressures of life from before- paying you rent on time, finding food. This is better. How could you ever go back after this?

A low buzz of excitement covers you. Tongue laving over her clit, taking in her syrupy taste- her hips twitch against your face.

“F-fuck, yeah… just like that.”

Grinding down on your tongue, Yae has absolutely no shame. Her beautiful hands thread themselves through the strands of your hair, tugging and directing you how she likes.

Your fingers dig into the fat of her hips, trying to keep her still but your efforts are proving useless. She didn't care that your face was shining with her slick- in fact, she encourages it.

Wrapping your lips around her clit, you suck harshly- tongue flicking over it eagerly. Her hands tighten in your strands as a small gasp bubbles up her throat. It encourages you more, It felt like you were drunk. Your head was spinning like crazy, eyes developing a glassy sheen. The need to please is overwhelming. The need for all of her. Her taste, her touch, her scent.

You desperately pull her down more. Lapping in a fast rhythm, you push your tongue against her entrance, eating her out like it's your last meal. Yae’s thighs tremble with the effort of holding herself up. Gushy walls squishing around you. The pitch in her voice gets higher as she quivers over you. You slurp at her mercilessly, determined to draw out more sweet noises from her lips.

When she finally comes apart, her entire body weight drops onto you, legs squishing against the sides of your head. Your eyes roll back in ecstasy, strung out and drunk off of her.

Shaking, she gradually lifts herself from you, giggling at the wetness she's left all over the bottom half of your face. Your tongue darts out, trying to get all of it, but before you can finish, Yae is undoing the buttons of your pants. It's distracting. She's so beautiful, it almost feels wrong to make her please you. As your bottoms are tugged off, cool air hits your warm skin. Goosebumps rise throughout, sending shivers up your spine. Her gentle hands pry your legs apart, crawling closer to where you needed her most.

Her warm breath brushes over your inner thighs. She doesn't move past that.

“Y-Yae please…”

You can hear the cruel chuckle she lets out. And see the way her tail sways wickedly from side to side, running over your legs.

“Hurry..”

Large wet kisses are pressed against your inner thighs, leaving a small trail of her lipstick on your skin. Then finally, after centuries of torture, her tongue darts out to lap at your clit. Sharpened nails dig into your flesh, trying to keep you from bucking against her wildly. A choked whine is caught in your throat, pain and anguish written all across your face.

“Nghh fuck…”

She's like a woman starved- hot tongue flicking against your entrance, slipping inside. An embarrassing sob traps itself in your chest, body spasming with exertion. Trembling, your hand clenches in the strands of her hair, desperate for any way to tether yourself to reality. Loud slurping and sucking sound fill the room- echoing back at you. With every movement from her, an explosion of electricity sets your nerves alight.

“O-oh god.. Yae..”

Mind clouded with lust, you roll your hips back against her. She doesn't stutter even more a second, finding her way over to your puffy clit, drawing tight little circles. Sparks flash behind your eyes and thick whimpers of ecstasy spring past your lips.

Your body is reduced to its purest instincts as Yae works her magic between your legs. Brain empty, your visceral response is to pull her closer. The knot in your lower belly tightens. The heat simmering under your skin is elevating and on the verge of  boiling over. Unintelligible babbles breach the edges of your mouth. What once were comprehensible words are reduced to merely the slurrings of a person filled with euphoria.

“I'm c-close…mmng..”

Blistering pleasure shoots through your body, ridding your lungs of any air. A pervasive ringing ringing resounds through your head, leaving your brain dizzy. Surges of pure bliss roll over you. Your hands tighten in her hair, as you're struggling to stay sane. It feels like months- years- pass before you can finally think clearly again. When you do, you're met with Yae, still naked (not complaining), peacefully sleeping next to you. She snores softly, tail twitching happily in its, presumably, good dream. She subconsciously drifts towards you, searching for warmth.

She looks so cute, but this won't stop you from getting your revenge soon.

[girlwiththoughts13]

Where there's a Will

Daemon Targaryen x F!reader

Warnings: Incest/ P in V /infidelity/ Age-gap

Word count: 1k

~~~~~

The Iron Throne. It was coveted by all, from the lowliest knights to the highest born lords. Who sat down on the chair of swords was more than ruler. They were a protector, and to protect you must be strong. The late King Viserys was not strong in any sense of the word. He allowed leeches to squeeze through the cracks in his home and feed off of his blood and weakening reign. Allowed them to rip the Targaryen heritage and culture to install the gods of common men; symbols and emblems that would shame Aegon the Conquerer.

Though for all his treasonous faults there was a level of respect that had to be given to Otto Hightower for seizing every opportunity to propel his house forward. Whoring out his only daughter to the aged King in the interest of ruling behind a figurehead child of his own blood.

It was the perfect scheme, until Viserys named his daughter Rhaenrya as rightful heir of the 7 Kingdoms, a claim he steadfastly upheld even after the birth of male heirs.

How marvelous you'd believed it would be. Rhaenrya would have struck down structures that were In place to clip women's wings. Would have shown mercy when deserved and serve justice when necessary. The small folk would rejoice at her Queenship. She would intimidate the highlords of Westeros and rebellion would not be a known word. In your mind this was the Queen your lovely mother would be.

The Greens usurpation of the throne crumbled that dream. The hope of the great leader extinguished before your eyes. You watched for days as your mother reverted into someone you did not know. Frail and scared. It stirred something within you, that had not been there before. Took root deep within and fed off of your darkest desires. One that gave the promise of eternal glory.

The loss of a child could not be easy for certain. You yourself had not felt the grief you should have. No stirring of sadness or longing in your gut for your little brother. Not like Jace. It scared you as well as excited you. There was no weakness to be found and the prospect of an indestructible mind and heart was eagerly accepted by you. Aemond Targaryen's crime should have been answered swiftly and without mercy, alas all your mother could do was cry, losing herself to anguish. Get up! You wished to say, Focus!

Now was the time to strike show the false King and his court what true dragons were made of, fire and blood.

Control on your own treacherous thoughts were slipping, and left only the question, Could I be Queen of the 7 Kingdoms?

You would be one day anyway, as the firstborn, as the true born daughter of Laenor. What's the difference between then and now?

Your mother would have to die however, and you couldn't do that.

At least not alone.

Daemon was easy to convince, soul and heart already corrupt. You came to him like a dream unruly sliver hair and donned in a sheer iridescent nightgown. Whispers of greatness flowed from your pouty lips right into his ear. Face full of innocence and intention anything but.

You continued to spew your sweet poison as you rode him on the seat by the fire, the flames heating your already blazing skin.

He reached his peak with the thought of him as King with you by his side swollen with his babe. A conquerer in his own right.

Like your grandsire, you enjoyed sculpting the key parts of the realm, the only thing you shared with the frail man. Your most recent replica being the throne room. It's here in the safety of your chambers Daemon finds you fiddling with the chair you shall take soon.

He comes to stand behind you, his hands smoothing up the expanse of your arms pulling your back flush to his chest. Seasoned warrior that he is, his body is hard and unmoving compared to your soft pliant one, a perfect foot solider he will be.

Daemon nuzzles his head into your neck inhaling deeply "I have missed you". His time at Harrenhal left him craving your most willingly body. You're aware he views this situation much differently. Possibly believes that he has manipulated you, lead you down a dark path. A pure swan tainted so irreversibly. Not at all the still waiting dragon that you are. Ready to sink your teeth into his skin and drain him for all he's worth. You know he loves you or as close to love as he can feel. Do you return that sentiment is another issue because, of course not, he's your mother's husband, your step-father and uncle. You're strategic not vindictive.

Only your mother felt the need to be above Daemon and try her hand at triumph without him. He was a fool with a sword but that sword in his particular hand could bring down mountains. You needed him, for now. With your gentle guiding you had him believe your wants and ideas were his own.

You turn your head to meet his eyes. "No more than me" you sigh and lift your chin to claim his lips with your own. His hands tighten around you, trailing all around your body stopping here and there to grope you. Giving a pinch to your breast, a clutch around your neck. He pulls way to place his hand at the middle of your back giving a shove forward, you go easily. He flattens you over the table. He brings his hand from your back down to where the hem of your nightgown ends meets your exposed thigh. he bunches the material to your hips. Letting out a shudder at your lack of clothing underneath.

You hear from behind you the unlacing of his trousers, you keep your eyes trained on the figures ahead. The column, the banners, the throne. So small they could fit in the palm of your hand, but the longer you stare willing it to come to fruition the more the scene is happening before you. Your being enthroned and the highlords and ladies kneel before you, the small folk shout your name from outside the castle walls, you hardly feel the push in of Daemons cock in your own walls. You hear him grunt and groan behind you, rutting inside you wildly like a brute or the animal he is. He doesn't notice your lack of sounds to lost in his own pleasure, Daemons view of your backside hides your lack of lustful expression replaced with one of resolution one of assurance.

Your body is jostled up and down, Daemon's hand finds its way into your hair before trailing down to the back of your neck keeping you there while your eyes never falter from your soon to be rightful place.

The Iron Throne.

[waynes-multiverse]

Video Games

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female!Reader

Summary: It's been a long time, and Ben direly misses his wife. Only a video chat truly reveals how much. Accompanying one shot to Rehab

Warnings: 18+/NSFW, language & insults, human!Ben, long distance relationship, smut (masturbation f & m, dirty talk), angst

Word Count: 2.0k

A/N: I know you guys begged me for a happy ending, and I promise it's coming (maybe in form of a three parter? 👀), but yeah, this is clearly not it. Somehow, my fingers always go rogue on the keyboard when it comes to these two, no matter my good intentions.

Transfixed green eyes are glued to the TV screen as Victoria Neuman gives yet another speech on another stage in another state on V-SPAN, yapping about some fucking policies Ben doesn’t give two shits about. He also could give less fucks about the president in general, his gaze focused on a young, beautiful woman standing by Neuman’s right side.

Yeah, he’s only enduring that shit show for her.

Y/N’s tight black pencil skirt makes his cock ache. It ends a few too many inches above the knees, too short for a Chief of Staff. Ben knows she’s only wearing it for him. It’s part of the sick game they’ve been playing.

That little piece of clothing could ride up any second and reveal her glistening pussy underneath to a whole audience, flashing conservatives and liberals alike. Ben has told her not to wear panties, and because she’s a good fucking girl, she has obliged his wishes. Y/N’s the best fucking wife, after all.

His eyes then flicker to the door down the hallway as he sits comfortably on the couch with a beer bottle in hand. It’s still shut tightly, the kid fast asleep. With the air clear, Ben’s hand slips into his sweatpants and palms his semi, jerking his fist up and down his hardening length.

He shuts his eyes for a heartbeat, imagining what her tight and soaked cunt feels like wrapped around him. Fuck, he misses her so goddamn much. He hates being alone, even though he’s not. He’s still got the kid, so it all trickles down to him fucking hating being without her.

There’s no cure for Y/N, and there’s no replacement for her, either.

Ben sets the beer down on the coffee table and frees his dick fully, shuffling the gray sweats down to his ankles. When Neuman finishes the last leg of her speech, he watches as Y/N eagerly begins to chew on her bottom lip, almost gnawing the goddamn thing bloody. She’s as fucking giddy as he is.

As soon as the president and her entourage leave the stage, Ben grabs his phone and opens her contact. His thumb brushes the little blue button with the camera symbol, his ears waiting to hear her sweet and sultry voice again as it dials.

Her bright smile is the first thing he sees. His heart beats so fast the friction causes a fire and melts the broken thing into a puddle. He can feel the heat in his cheeks as they involuntarily rise with a smile he can’t muzzle.

“Fuck, I’m so hard, baby girl,” he says and squeezes the throbbing cock in his fist.

Y/N laughs, shaking her head. “Hello, husband. I’m good, thank you for asking. How are you?”

“Like I said, fucking hard,” he reiterates, his deep voice raspy, impatient, and hungry. He rolls his green eyes. “C’mon, you really wanna chitchat about small talk? I know you’re fucking dripping for my cock under that tight little skirt.”

Y/N’s eyes widen scoldingly, but the flush of red in her cheeks makes him chuckle. “Ben! I’m still in the elevator. At least let me get to my hotel room first.”

“Perfect.” Ben smirks broadly, a mischievous glint in his forest green orbs. “Just push the red ‘Stop’ button and lemme rail that cunt there.”

“Charming as always,” another voice chimes.

“I’m not alone, you idiot,” Y/N informs him, giggling, and swings the camera till Victoria’s bitchy grin of amusement comes into view.

Ben rolls his eyes in open and shameless annoyance, scoffing. “Ugh, of course, that bull dyke’s with you…”

Victoria only smirks at his insult with crossed arms. “Unlike you, that never gets old, coot. How are those adult diapers suiting you?”

“You fucking hippie cuntzilla,” Ben grits angrily, his brow scrunching so much he’s close to a rage headache. “You couldn’t fucking handle all of me.”

“Trust me, I don’t want to,” Victoria huffs mockingly. “You know what they say – once the body goes, the mind follows, you dried-up dinosaur.”

“You fucking–”

“Okay, alright! Stop it you two. Enough with the insults,” Y/N steps in and pans the camera away from Neuman’s winning smirk and back to her. She sighs. “That’s my floor. We’re almost there.”

Ben still boils with fury, especially when he hears the two women exchange a few bullet points about a staff meeting before bidding their goodbyes. But by the time Y/N unlocks the door to her room, he’s simmered down enough and stroked his cock back to its full glory.

Y/N sets up her phone on her dresser, the lens focused on her as she takes a step back. A naughty smile curves her lips as she licks them and plays with the buttons on her blouse.

“Ready?” she asks and waits for him to switch the camera around.

Ben chuckles and aims the lens on his dick, standing proud and tall. “Look for yourself, baby girl.”

Y/N bites her lip at the sight of his cock – so fucking thick, long, and swollen. “Fuck, I’d kill to have you inside of me right now,” she coos and pops open the buttons of her blouse, one by one. Soon, the white silk material slips off her shoulders and leaves her standing in an all too-innocent white bra, her tits perfectly framed by delicate lace. Her hands then wander behind her back and unhook it, freeing two full breasts. She massages and gropes them, rolling her pert nipples between her fingers as she moans.

“Shit, you know that fucking turns me on when you talk like that,” Ben grunts, pumping his cock harder as it swells in his hand. “Show me that tight pussy of yours. Need to see it before I fucking come. Bet it’s real wet, huh?”

“Fucking drenched,” Y/N croons and opens the back zipper of her skirt. “Can feel it fucking run down my thighs. Thought all day about you. I didn’t wear any panties like I promised you.”

“Such a fucking good girl,” Ben praises her with a smirk on his lips. “Where’s that fucking feminism of yours now, huh?” he teases, chuckling. “Fuck, I wanna feel that slick on my fingers and lick it clean off.”

“This one, asshole?” Y/N giggles as her hand delves into her skirt and runs through her soaked folds. She pulls out her glistening fingers and sucks them into her mouth, tasting her own sweet arousal.

“Fucking shit…” Ben hisses, his cock twitching needily in his hand. All he wants is to eat her out and sink into her. “Pull that fucking thing off right now and get on the bed. Ass first,” he orders.

Y/N does as he says, the skirt falling down her smooth legs and revealing her bare pussy to him. She spins around and climbs on the mattress on all fours, wiggling her ass high in the air. She smirks over her shoulder at the camera when she hears his wanton growl before she lays down on her back and spreads her legs wide, her pink and wet cunt in full view.

“Fuck, look at you, baby. So fucking perfect. I’d love to fuck you stupid till you’re a drooling mess, you little cockslut,” Ben says and can feel himself riding closer to the edge. “Touch yourself for me. Flick that little clit till you tremble and scream for me to fill you.”

Y/N’s hand dives between her thighs, two fingers rubbing circles on her sensitive flesh. She mewls and whimpers with every touch. “Fuck, can I put a finger inside me?”

“Shit, yeah,” Ben groans enthusiastically. “Try three. Stuff ‘em in there. Real deep. Come for me, baby. Wanna see that pretty face you make.”

“Fuck, Ben! I need you… I want you… So bad… Want your cock to fuck me… Please… I miss you…” Y/N moans and cries as she works herself into a frenzy. The familiar tug in her belly threatens to implode with each stroke.

Ben’s already a goner when those last words reach him, fisting his cock so hard he’s glad he doesn’t have superpowers anymore. He might’ve broken it for good otherwise. Precum leaks from his red and swollen tip, slicking his aching dick with each jerk of his hand. He’d give anything to feel her mouth and ample lips around his length, but the memory of it suffices to make him explode for now.

Swiftly, he grabs a few tissues from the box next to him and blows his load inside of them while Y/N’s blissful screams fill his ears as her climax tears through her. A few more slow and lazy strokes milk the rest of his dick before his shoulders deflate, and Ben relaxes back into the comfort of the soft couch cushions.

Pantingly, they lie in silence for a minute and let their speeding hearts find calm again. Y/N then props up from the bed and saunters to the dresser to grab her phone before she plops back down on the mattress. She frames the camera on her face and smiles at him, her cheeks flushed with an afterglow.

Ben smiles, too, although there’s a twinge in his stomach and a pinch in his heart. He’s grown to love the perks of technology and the twenty-first century. If he couldn’t see her on that little screen in his hand every night, he would’ve gone mad a while ago.

But everything else still sucks. The fact he can’t touch her, hold her, and love her the way he wants to fucking sucks.

“You okay there, stud?” Y/N checks, even though the truth is written clear as day on his freckle-dusted face. She feels it, too – that sickening, torturous, and undeniable pull towards him. All she wants is to rest her head on his broad chest and beating heart with his strong arms wrapped around her, holding her so tight she can barely fill her lungs with air.

Ben’s tongue swipes over his chapped lips for a moment. He’s not someone who shares his emotions easily, and it’s only gotten harder for him without her near. But it’s too fucking much, and there’s no end in sight.

“No,” he admits with a tormented swallow. “It’s not fucking okay. I fucking miss you. You’re my goddamn wife. You’re supposed to be here, Y/N.”

“I know.” Y/N exhales a sympathetic sigh and tries her best to be there for him, even though she’s exhausted after an 80-hour work week. “I miss you, too. And the kid. So much. It’s not always gonna be this way. You know I can’t come home. I don’t wanna hurt anyone, least of all you.”

“I don’t fucking care anymore. It’s been six months. We’ll figure it out. Just come home, my love,” he all but begs in the four walls of his quiet house. For Y/N, he’d even go down on his knees. He just wants her here. He doesn’t care what it costs him, virility included.

“Ben…” Y/N bites her lip, her eyes pleading. “I’m making a difference here. I’m actually doing something good.”

“Fuck that! Fuck all of that shit, Y/N!” Ben yells and strains himself to lower his voice, not wanting to wake the boy. “I fucking love you. I’m sick and tired of those games. How many fucking times do I have to tell you that I miss you, huh? I don’t wanna do this anymore. I don’t wanna call you and hope you have time to pick up. I don’t wanna text you and wait hours for a fucking answer. I don’t wanna fuck you through a dumbass screen. I miss you. I miss my wife. I miss actual goddamn sex, for fuck’s sake!”

Y/N holds back the brimming tears in her eyes, her longing heart agreeing with his words. “I know. I miss all of that, too. Maybe it’s time. Maybe we should finally talk about it.”

Ben’s brow furrows. He doesn’t like the tone in her voice and the look on her face that’s full of heartbreak. “Talk about what?”

“Divorce.”

I know, I know... "Wayne, why are you being so cruel, mean, and evil to us?" But I promise you those two will figure their shit out eventually. They've been through too much to let go now 💚

But man, do I love writing some Neuman/Ben banter. I wish they had actual screen time on the show. I feel like it would've been fucking hilarious 😂

This is not the end. Those two idiots will be back 😘

TAGS:

Jensen: @alwaystiredandconfused @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey @deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies @agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @iamsapphine @globetrotter28 @mxltifxnd0m @lacilou @feyresqueen @suckitands33 @onlyangel-444 @syrma-sensei @perpetualabsurdity

Rehab Series: @nancymcl @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @sparkydonugh

[venerawrites]

Can I request Naruto with a single mama? Her little 1 yr old is a little unsure at first but comes to ADORE Naruto. Please and thank you!

Author's note: I am finishing my written assignments for uni this and next week, so I'm being extra slow with the requests, for which I am sorry :( Anyway, this request was super cute and I loved writing it! Hope you enjoy and thank you for requesting!

Becoming a war hero almost overnight sounds like a dream come true for every shinobi. All the years of pain, sweat and blood finally being recognised and appreciated by the people was something that rarely happened through history, and even when it did, most of the time it didn't last long.

But Naruto was no ordinary war hero - he was once the most hated person in Konoha, who despite everything remained loyal to his village and his friends. Filled with hope and ambition for the future, he proved himself as an excellent shinobi and most importantly, a good potential leader. So when Kakashi gave up his position as the Hokage, there was no question about who should be his successor.

Everything in his life fell into place pretty quickly after that - he bought a house, he started volunteering at the academy and the hospital during weekends, and also became the best man to Shikamaru and Temari's wedding. The boy that was once called a "freak" was now the "man of progress" - a symbol of prosperity and inspiration to many children across the Land of Fire. Tales and songs were already written in his name, and to him, it still felt unreal.

With fame came also attention. In the beginning, he loved it. Having women competing for his affection was fun and also very new for him - never has anyone asked him out on a date or given him gifts before. It did stroke his ego and for the first months after he became a Hokage, he entertained such advances. After all he was a single man, so why not? Perhaps one of these women would one day turn out to be the one.

Days became months, months became years and soon he found that almost all of his friends were either married or engaged. So far it never bothered him, but after Sakura and Sasuke came back carrying a child in their arms, he started to seriously think about what he wanted.

Years ago, if anyone has asked him what he seeks in a partner, his answer would've easily been his teammate. But since then a lot has changed, including him. He was more mature and level-headed now, and looking back, he realised what he felt toward the pink-haired kunoichi was not real love, but rather a childish crush. She was his best friend and he had deep respect for her, but even he realised how incompatible their personalities were and how his teenage self had an unrealistic idea of who she actually is.

Naruto was the definition of fire. He often acted based on his emotions and while he was better at self-control than he was before, there were still moments when he slipped up and let his inner thoughts take over his rationality. The last thing he needed was someone who had the same burning soul. Quite the opposite - he yearned for calmness. His heart needed to be both loved and protected by someone who can balance him.

This realisation felt heavier with each day. To have someone by his side soon became a mirage - no matter how often he attempted to give a chance to someone, the spark was just never there. All these women looked differently and talked differently, but ultimately they all gave him the same feeling - emptiness.

"Everything comes with time", Kakashi said to him, when he noticed him sitting by himself at Ino and Sai's wedding. The blonde man just smiled, weakly nodding at his sensei, not having the energy to oppose him. At this point, he wanted nothing more than to just finish his drink and head home to rest for the early morning meeting he had the next day.

Like almost everything in his life, however, this didn't go to plan. He was just about to stand up from his place, when his eyes locked with yours across the room. "She is definitely not from here", he thought, as you directed a small smile at him, lifting your glass in the air, before returning your attention to Ino, who was eagerly explaining her honeymoon plans to you. Naruto assumed you were not a shinobi as well, as he was sure he would've remembered you if he had encountered you in the past.

Before he can think about what he was doing, he was already walking toward the table where you and the bride were sitting. Pulling the chair next to Ino and opposite you, he slumped on it, his eyes dancing between you two.

"Can I join you, ladies?", he asked, despite the fact he already had. You both nodded and he grinned in response, before turning toward Ino and laying his hand on her shoulder:

"Congratulations on your marriage, Ino! Sai is a lucky guy!"

"You bet he is!", she laughed, nudging you with her elbow. Expecting such a response from her, you only rolled your eyes, shaking your head with a small smile. There was no room for disagreement, however - while Ino had quite a personality, she was one of the most kind and sincere people you have ever met. No wonder you became friends so quickly after she was sent to a mission in your village and you preserved that friendship despite the distance and all the years that have passed.

"Oh!", the bride suddenly exclaimed, grabbing your hand and almost shoving it into the blonde man’s face, "Naruto, this is Y/N. She has been my friend for... How many? Almost 10 years now! She is originally from the Curtain Village, but has been travelling for a while now."

"The Curtain Village? Isn't that the capital of Land of Silence?"

"It is", you confirmed, shaking his hand once he put it in yours. Noticing the slight furrow of his brows, you were quick to add with a smirk: "I am not a criminal that is here to blow up a wedding, if that is what you are thinking."

Letting out a scoff, Naruto looked a few times between you and Ino, before laughing nervously. He still hadn't let go of you, continuing to shake your arm up and down.

"What? I-you... I didn't-", he stammered, looking over to the bride for help. It was true a very brief thought of suspicion flashed through his mind hearing where you were from, but how can anyone blame him? The Land of Silence was a country of lawlessness, full with criminals and terrorist, all of them sharing the same hatred for Five Great Shinobi.

"Oh, don't listen to her, she is joking!", Ino laughed, before turning toward you and gently slapping you on the shoulder. Her eyes moved to the middle of the table, above which the Hokage was still holding your hand, his whole face flushed bright red. The minute of silence must have caught the man's attention, because soon after he let go of you, moving his fingers behind his body and nervously scratching his neck.

"Not weird at all", your friend muttered, before turning toward you, "Y/N, this is Naruto! A childhood friend, a war hero, the current Hokage... and also a man who does not know how to act like a normal human being in front of a beautiful woman."

He immediately opened his mouth to protest but was stopped the second your laugh reached his ears. This has to be the most melodic and beautiful sound he has ever heard. Too lost admiring it, he didn't pay any attention to Ino, who excused herself, giving you both a knowing look. He noticed only a few minutes later your shared friend is missing and he mentally cursed himself of how he was behaving. His teenage years were long gone, why couldn't he compose himself like the grown man he is?

"So, Hokage...", the title sounded almost seductive from your lips, "What was a man of such importance doing by himself at the bar? One would think you would be the centre of attention tonight. After the bride and groom, of course."

The tone of your voice combined with the sparkle in your eyes was enough for him to be able to barely keep focus on what you were actually saying. Squirming in his seat, he nervously laughed, wondering for how long were you watching him before he approached you. He must have looked like a complete fool sitting by himself ordering glass after glass and only occasionally being spoken to by the passing guests. Definitely not the impression he wanted to leave.

"I just... needed some time away from people. I didn't know Ino and Sai had THAT many friends", his words made you laugh and he instantly beamed at the sound, happy he was the one causing it.

"What about you? You here with someone?"

The slight nod of your head made his heart drop to his stomach and the corners of his mouth moved downward into a frown. Was it surprising? You were a beautiful woman after all, of course the chances for you to be taken were high. He sure as hell was disappointed though. A tiny part of him was hoping that you were here by yourself and that maybe, just maybe, he would have the chance to get to know you more.

Seeing the way his whole expression darkened, you bit back a smile, nodding your head to the end of the large room. There, in a corner, one baby boy and two little girls, one of which was Sarada, were enthusiastically smashing plastic toys around, being supervised by smiling Sakura.

"I am accompanied by the fine gentleman over there", you pointed to the boy, before laughing, "But I think he may be too occupied at the moment to even remember I exist."

Naruto followed the direction of which your finger was pointing and he suddenly felt his body relax. Oh. You were talking about that type of company.

"Is that your brother?"

Raising your brow at him, you gave him a small smirk, finding his question cute. There was something about this man that was both extremely sweet, yet attractive - perhaps it was the innocence he radiated, while looking so strong and masculine.

"You are flattering me", your attention moved back to the child, who was now trying to communicate something with Sarada, "This is my son, actually."

"Your son?", his voice came out louder and squeakier than expected and he immediately added, "It's just... you look so young, heh. Not that is a bad thing, you know? You are beautiful! Your son is also beautiful... Not in a creepy way, I mean he looks a lot like you and-"

The words suddenly got stuck in his throat and he loudly gulped, already fearing the disaster he just created. Expecting you to stand up and leave, or maybe even slap him, he was shocked when all you did was to just grab his hand and give it a little squeeze.

"You sure blabber a lot for a Hokage", you joked, before standing up, "Excuse me just for a minute."

Blue eyes followed your body across the room, curiously watching how you picked up the small boy in your arms and placed it on your hips, before making your way back. Now that he was getting closer, Naruto could fully appreciate the striking resemblance the child had with you. You had dressed him in a little blue shirt and black pants, which was complementing your dress with the same colours.

“Wow! He is literally your twin! Dad must be jealous”, he laughed nervously once you were just few feet away. The mention of he word “dad” made your body stiffen and you adjusted your baby’s position, so you can both sit comfortably.

“I doubt that - that man didn't even have the decency to show up for his child's birth, let alone acknowledge his existence .”

The blonde almost chocked on his drink, hitting his chest a few times. Was it bad to feel so good after hearing you say these words? He would never dream of wishing any child to grow up without a father, yet something inside of him felt almost relieved.

"Oh?", his posture relaxed and he raised one eyebrow, "So you are single mother?"

The answer was obvious, but he needed to be 100% sure - the last thing he wanted was to ruin someone's relationship, especially when there is a child involved. The nod of your head and the small smile were the final assurance he needed and without further word, he moved to the seat next to you which was previously occupied by Ino.

The sudden movement startled the baby in your arms and it immediately turned its head to the side, curiously observing the man.

"Hi, little one! My name is Naruto. Oh my, you are very cute!"

Uzumaki was good with kids. Maybe it was because of his friendly appearance or the fact he was full with energy, just like them, but there has not been a single child so far that didn't adore him from the moment they laid their eyes on him. Even Sarada, much to Sasuke's dismay.

The look that your son was giving him, however, was anything but impressed. Staring at him with his big eyes, he didn't even move a muscle, as if he was challenging him to a staring contest.

Can babies even challenge someone? Naruto never thought so, but he could swear the boy's brows furrowed just a bit, enough for him to send a clear message: "I may be cute, but you are not and neither is your attempt to impress my mom."

"He is very shy", you said, bouncing him on your lap. As a result to your constant travels due to your job, he didn't had a lot of interactions with other children or with people in general. Growing up without a father, he was very attached to you and any unknown person was always treated with suspicion.

To you he was just being cautious. To the man to your right, however, he was protective. The look he has given him was not one of a timid child, quite the opposite - he may be small, but he loved his mama and was not about to let a random man come and sweep her off her feet. Even if he was the Hokage himself.

"Well, I would love to get to know him", the man smiled, before lifting his eyes to yours, "and you, of course! Maybe... I can take you out on a dinner or something?"

"No", the word fell out of your child's mouth, before you can even start replying. Naruto looked at him, noticing the small pout that was now formed on his chubby face. Biting his lip, the Uzumaki tried his best to contain his laugh and remain serious. Not that he didn't respect the little man and how he tried to protect you, but he was so small and cute, it was hard to take him seriously.

"Hey, that is not nice!", you said to your son, giving him a look. He, however, didn't even acknowledge you, his whole attention trained on the man next to you.

"I am sorry, he just learned the word "no", and now he keep saying it at the most random times."

The blonde nodded with a smile, knowing that this was definitely NOT a random time.

"But to answer your question, WE would love to go on a dinner with you!", you adjusted the baby in your arms and the shift finally made him look at you. With a smile, you pressed a kiss to his temple, before looking back at the Hokage: "I am staying with Ino for the next three weeks. Pick us up tomorrow at 8?"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next day Naruto was half an hour early to the arranged time. Too scared to knock on the door and look way too eager to see you, he decided to wait outside, almost giving Ino a heart attack once she opened the door and nearly bumped her head in his chest.

"Naruto, what the hell are you doing just standing in front of my door?"

"Uh... Waiting?", he scratched the back of his head nervously, wishing there was a hole in the ground that can swallow him whole. It was not like this was his first date ever, why was he nervous about?

Deep inside he knew the answer - it was not you who was making him anxious, but your son. The way their first interaction went woke something competitive in him and now he was determined to prove himself as a man, good enough to be a partner and a father.

Being the village's hero he hasn’t faced a challenge like this for a while, so while he thought a bit of smooth talking and play time with your child were enough to win your son over, it seemed to make the situation even worse. The child refused to play with him and instead was clinging to you the whole time, giving Naruto such a look, which could only be described as a glare.

"He is not usually like this", you said at the end of your date, when you were both saying your 'goodbyes' in front of Ino's house, "I am really sorry if it made you uncomfortable or-"

Before you can finish, big calloused fingers pressed themselves to your lips, silencing you. You were glad that your son was now asleep, as he saw the gesture, he would surely cry, just like he did every time Naruto tried to grab your hand or touch you in any way during dinner.

"Hey, I think it is completely normal", the blonde let out a short breathy laugh, moving his eyes between the child and your face, "He just want to protect his mother. If I was him, I would be the same..."

Looking down, you carefully considered his words. You avoided dating after your ex left you once he found you are pregnant, so you never had the chance to observe your baby boy around men. But looking at his behaviour now, the Hokage's words made sense.

Thankfully for you, the Uzumaki was not a man who gave up easily. Pressing a kiss to your cheek, he invited you both to go and visit him the next day in the Hokage tower. He promised to give you a tour around and grab a lunch with you during his break.

For the three weeks you were in Konoha, you spend every single day with Naruto. He started going to work extra early, just so he can leave on time to pick you up and show you another one of his favourite spots around Konoha. For everyone around you, it was obvious you were absolutely whipped for one another and all this extra effort from his side seemed almost unnecessary in their eyes. For him, however, it was more than necessary, especially since your shared future was depending on it.

As a teacher, you built your job around travelling - you loved sharing your knowledge with the world, as well gaining new one from each place you visited. Such life was busy and demanding, especially for a single parent, but the pros outweighed the cons significantly.

Naruto refused to directly ask you to move to Konoha permanently, but his intentions were pretty clear - he never missed a chance to point out how good the Academy is, how there is a higher education institution being build right now and how gifted the kids in the village were. In the beginning, you didn't give any indication you were even considering staying, but after a while you started to show your interest in your own way - mainly by asking questions about the job market, the teachers in the Academy and in general the life in Konoha.

His relationship with your son also improved drastically. At first, the child stopped "glaring" at him and actually trusted him to come near you. Then, a few days later, he agreed for the first time to play ball with him and at the end of your walk in the park, he even fell asleep in Naruto's arms. By the time you had to leave, your son was so attached to the blonde, he refused to let go of his neck and go in your arms.

"We need to go, darling", you muttered tiredly, trying to detach him from the Hokage.

"No", he cried even louder, "Mama - bye!"

Letting out a loud laugh, Naruto adjusted the little boy in his arms, so he frees one hand and takes yours in it.

"Maybe mama would consider staying", he said, his grin transforming into a soft smile. Squeezing your fingers between his, he tugged you toward him, wrapping his free hand around your waist.

"I won't force you to stay if you do not want to... but I really, really wish you would consider it! I know we have been knowing each other for weeks, but damn, I am in love with you! And I love this little guy here", he looked over the child in his arms, that was now snuggling in his chest, giving you the biggest puppy eyes, "He does feel like my son. And if you leave... I may have to follow you till you agree to come back. And believe it, I do have some experience with making people come back!"

Letting out a giggle, you raise your brow at his words, the bag on your shoulder already falling down.

"Yeah? You would travel around the whole world just to bring us back to you?"

Closing the distance, he leaned his head to the side, so he can lay a small kiss on your lips. He pressed his forehead to yours, letting out a breath of relief once he heard your bag falling to the floor.

"I will travel to the end of the universe, if it means you will be with me."

cc artowork: Jayison Devadas

[ashblooddragons]

My Heart, My Ruin (Chapter 1/?)

Warning! implied marital rape at the end

25 ac Oldtown 

Rhaellas pov

I’m sitting next to Mama resting my head on her belly feel the baby move around. Kepus is getting married to a lady named Ceryse Hightower. I keep looking up at the ceiling as I love the art up there.

“Darling it’s time to watch and pay attention, the bride is coming down the aisle.” Mama says as Papa helps her stand up before he reaches over to pick me up so I can watch.

“I still can’t believe Father agreed to this, he’s only ten and three, barely out of boyhood and now he’s getting wed off?” Papa says he’s been saying that a lot lately.

When I see the bride I gasp, her dress is so pretty. It's made out of white shiny smooth stuff, green butterflies on her shoulders, and she's wearing a gold tiara with bright green stones in it. I hope one day I look that pretty when I'm married. I look down at the dress I'm wearing and smile, it's dark purple just like Kepus's eyes, and it sparkled when I was in the sun.

“There is nothing we can do, it is their child, it is their choice.” Mama says hushing Rhaena who is in our Nursemaid's arms.

“She is ten years his senior, wouldn't her family want her with someone closer to her age?” Papa continues. 

“Most likely, but he is a prince, what better match would they find?” Mama responds as she rubs her back, she does that a lot now that her belly is so big.

I look over at Kepus, he doesn't seem happy, aren't people supposed to be happy when getting married? That's what Mama and Papa say at least, so why does he seem sad?

Once the bride finally meets Kepus at the alter the Stepton starts warping ribbon around their hands. 

“What is the ribbon for?” I whisper to Papa, or I at least try. 

“It's symbolic, the ribbon is a way to show their union is strong, that they are now bound, tied together forever.”  For some reason, I don't like the thought of Kepus being bound to someone, to her.

I grow curious again when they start chanting the same thing “Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger. I am his-her's, he-she is mine from this day until the end of my days.” 

“Why are they saying the same things?”

Papa chuckles when Mama giggles at my curiosity, they always say I'm as curious as a cat. 

“They are swearing before the gods that they are now bound, married.” Papa explains rubbing my back when I start to pout. He must not realize I don't like Kepus being married because he says this instead. “Shhh, you can stand on your own soon darling.” 

Once they are announced husband and wife everyone claps and cheers loudly. It startles me and Rhaena causing Mama and Papa to try and calm us down as Rhaena screams and I start to cry. 

“I told you bringing them to the wedding wasn't a good idea.” Mama says trying to get Rhaena to calm down. 

“They were fine until it got too loud for their little ears, isn't that right darling.” Papa says as he kisses my head and rests my head on his shoulder covering my other ear with his hand. 

Papa's hand are soft, not bumpy on the palms like Kepus, I want Kepus's hands to hold me, not Papa's.

Maegors pov

I know the Lords and Ladies are cheering, but all I can hear is Rhaella's sobs. Must be too loud, she never did like large crowds or loud noises, let alone the two combined. I think to myself trying to to scream at the crowd to shut up.

“Are you ready for the feast, husband?” My now wife, lady Ceryse Hightower asks with a smirk. 

She is beautiful, I'll give her that, but there is no world where she could match the fire within me. 

“I suppose.” 

She doesn't seem to like my short responses, as she frowns but quickly hides it with a fake joyful smile.

As we walk out I catch sight of Rhaella, Aenys seems to be trying to calm her down. But she keeps shrugging off his touch, hopefully, she will enjoy the feast and festivities more than this worthless wedding. I swear I've caught at least five lords snoring in their seats, seems they found it just as hard to stay awake with the Septons hour long speech of love and marriage before I was actually married.

Once we make it out of the Stary Sept we climb into a carriage to wave and greet the small folk as they rejoice in this farce. 

“we didn't have the chance to truly yet to know each other, so I had a thought, what if we did a game as we ride towards the festivities?” Ceryse asks fixing her necklace. She doesn't seem excited by the idea, but I would much rather do this ‘game’ over sitting in uncomfortable silence.

“What sort of game?” 

“Hmm, hpw about I ask you a question and you have to answer it? This of course goes both ways.”

“Fine.” I say with a annoyed and resigned sigh.

“I'll go first then!” She says only to stop and think for a moment. “What is your favorite color?” 

The first thing that comes to my mind is Rhaella's eyes, those pools of lavender that just looking at makes you feel calm and at ease. But I can't answer with that, for it doesn't seem like he best way to start a marriage, by declaring I love to stare into my little niece's eyes. 

Then I turn to Rhaella’s hair, those wild pure sliver riglets. How you can always find, I imagine you’d only lose her in the snow they are that pure and uncorrupted, just like her. 

The last thought is how when Rhaella laughs her rosy cheeks almost become a true crimson. The way her laughter always sets off mine. It always makes the worst days better somehow. Always makes my soul feel like it isn't a pit of pure blackness ready to destroy everything dear to me, but instead, it has some joy yet to be dug up and found for the world to see. 

And when I look down at my crimson red jerkin I know the answer, I don’t even need to think anymore.

“Red.” 

“Oh? I find red too angry of a color, I much prefer the calmness of green. though I see the appeal it is one of your house cars after all.” Ceryse answers even without me asking her the same question. 

A talker it seems. I think dryly as she keeps rambling on, and on about what colors she deems gorgeous and the ones she deems not worthwhile and why. 

Once we finally make it to the Hightower I partially bolt out of the carriage to escape that woman’s gods forsaken chatter. How one could love the sound of their own voice that much is beyond me.

I take her hand out of habit, for I was always taught to take my mother's, Rhaella's, and now hers.

When we enter everyone cheers and I notice my brother cover Rhaella's ears leaning down to whisper reassuring words to calm you down. She squirms in his lap trying to stay calm but the way her little face frowns and petal lips pout I doesn't seem my brother is succeeding. 

“I heard you are quite close to your eldest niece.” Ceryes says as she smiles and waves at all who have come to celebrate in our union. 

“Yes, what of it?” 

She seems to flinch at my cold tones before answering. “Only that we both have that in common, we adore our families and would do anything for them.” She responds trying to stay cheery.

As soon as we make it to the high table my father begins a speech. The same speech he does at every feast. His nonsense of how we must stand as one realm and how unions between houses will further the seven Kingdoms prosperity. 

Every time I hear it I can't help but roll my eyes, these whole already know this, they don't need their King reminding them at every fucking wedding. 

I drown out my father hoping his speech will end. maybe it will bore me to death and I won't have to truly go through with this wedding? I think dryly until Rhaella leans over Aeny's reaching for me. 

“Kepus, I want Kepus!” She demands a loom of fury on her face. She must have been denied me too many times this eve. 

For the rest of the feast I hold my little niece close letting her play with my rings and cloak. It almost seems like everything will be fine again, like it's just the two of us in her favorite field to pick flowers so she can make flower crowns for me and her. But soon it crashes down, the bedding ceremony begins and Rhaella is taken to her chambers to sleep the night away, already having fallen asleep against my chest. 

The rest is a blur, all I remember is wishes for those woman to stop touching me, and once they did I have Ceryse undressing me. 

I lay the rest of the night awake trying not to think about how I still feel like a boy, not a man who must make children. A boy who shouldn't have been touched the way I was, I fight the bile that rises in my throat all night forcing it back down. I keep reminding myself this is my duty, this is what I must do for the good of my family, and I can not tremble, I can not be scared, and I can not hide from this anymore.

I turn my skin to steel, and my heart to stone. But try as I must, my soul will not turn cold, for Rhaella has already changed it for the better. 

And with that thought I turn onto my side and pray to the fourteen again that sleep will find me, and it seems this time they truly did hear me.

Series Masterlist

special thanks to @sugutoad for making the header for this fic! I swear I would be lost without you girly!

TAGLIST: @sugutoad @ilikefelines @classicsimpforaaronwarner @mmogurl @sachaa-ff @baybaybear1

[descendantsramblings]

I love warm greens fic would you think of doing a part 2 ?

I love them, absolutely I can, sorry this took a minute I didn’t wanna skip too far ahead ❤️It was so fun getting to build the other villains into her friends from being her sister's bullies. I love this little universe so much. That being said, after this I think I am done with these two characters, they have 11,600 words together, I am done with Morgie’s Hearts!GF.

This is a prequel to my story "Warm Greens" which you can find here.

Also I've done some weirddddd things to the lore to make this work, I understand that the Jack of Diamonds is he head guard in the movie and we're all just going to pretend that he's somehow related to the queen so that I may refer to the reader as the princess of diamonds as to use the other red symbol on a deck of cards to draw a tie between the sisters. Thank youuuu.

Cool Reds

Morgie le Fay x Hearts! Reader

Pronouns used: she/her/hers

Summary: She would do whatever it took to keep him, wouldn’t she?

Warnings: Make out scene mentions, swearing, mentions of feeling nauseated/sick from anxieties, crying, use of the looking glass, betrayal of trust, references to Greek mythology (but the lore of the myths is a little off due to time since I read them + Disney)

Word count: 9.2K

Have I used this gif already? I have no idea, anyway

   Everything about Morgie le Fay was down right intoxicating. His mere existence in the same room as her was enough to light her every sense on fire. She was absolutely love drunk, barely swimming through the chalice of his affections and not caring if she drowned in them. How could she ever care about her ability to sink or swim when his lip balm was vanilla and his hands were so soft and his cologne could hang to her clothes for days from just a few hours of him holding her. How could she ever think about anything but him when the scent of him was on the collar of her shirt from just hugging him and the ghost of wind on her neck felt like his fingertips?  What was she meant to do about all this love when bites of cupcakes tasted like kissing him until her lips were numb? He was wrapped around her every waking thought like her entire purpose in leaving Wonderland was to find him. So what was she meant to do when Hook and Uliana found them out? 

    What else could the girl do but agree to whatever it took to keep those vanilla lips and cold hands? They knew better than making out anywhere but her dorm. She didn’t have a roommate, her room was safe, villains have eyes on every fly on the wall. But her room held no flies, it was their sanctuary, the only place they could be close without needing an excuse. Studying could be explained away, them both deciding to go swimming at the enchanted lake could happen by chance. Them both coming back from a new coffee shop or restaurant just mere minutes after each other just had to be a coincidence because why would Wonderland’s finest ever be seen out with a sorcerer of the dark arts? 

   But there was no way to explain this though. You can’t explain away hair that’s been mussed up by grabby hands that got a touch too adventurous. There was no valid reason that Morgie le Fay’s rings should be pressed into (Y/n)’s ribs from under her soft red top. Those kiss-bruised lips and flushed faces being so close could only mean one thing. And by god were they never going to hear the end of it. 

    That corner of the library was meant to be safe, no one ever came back there but them. In the past four months no one had interrupted them even once. It should have been a safe and quiet place for their little study break. But all good things must come to an end. Of course they must, the sons of villains aren’t meant to have good things. Morgie should have known that from the moment that bubbling girl made of red tinted moonlight fell into his arms. He wasn’t meant to have sweet meet cutes, the second he realized he’d have to hide her he should have ended it. She deserved to be seen with someone in broad daylight, not hide behind dorm doors and stacks of dusty old spell books. So whatever his friends had to throw at her, he’d take it like punches. He owed her that. If he could give her nothing else, he could do that. 

   “What have we here? A little scandalous little show, eh? Wonderland’s little princess isn’t the scholar she claims to be?” Hook’s face is unreadable, something that should be cocky and yet falls flat somewhere. Smirk as forced as his raised brow as he stands in front of them with crossed arms, the tip of his hook resting between his teeth. “Just taking a little break,” she hums, and though she should untangle herself from Morgie, she doesn’t. (Y/n) grabs his fleeting hand as it tries to abandon her bare side; holding it gently as she rubs the back of it with her thumb. So confident and relaxed, as if there aren't two villains looking her over with the intensity of a predator stalking prey. “Oh really? No one told me that you took your breaks with villains,” Hook leans down with that forced smile, “When’s my turn, huh?” Her eyes are half lidded, leaning up so their faces are only a few inches apart and Morgie’s heart nearly stops in his chest. Hook can’t take this from him, this is the first good thing that Morgie le Fay has ever had. Hook gets everything he wants, why can’t this just be Morgie’s thing? His one good thing. He will not let them take her from him, he’s sure of that. Hazel eyes stay locked on her lips, listening far too intently. “You won’t get one, Cap. I only kiss villains who are actually attractive.” 

    Her words make the pirate stumble back and Morgie bites his swollen bottom lip to hold in a laugh. That’s his girl, god, that’s his girl. “Well, then it seems you’re doing more than just taking a break, aren’t you? You think we’d be okay with that?” Uliana is looking (Y/n) over as if she’s trying to find something, seeming to be an odd mix of offended and proud. The last time Morgie saw her look at someone like that, Maleficent joined the group. Maybe this could be a good thing. He could only hope this would be a good thing. “You think I care if you’re okay with it?” Nope, not a good thing. Morgie was in for a long, long week.  And potentially a break up, though he really didn’t want to lose either piece of this puzzle. “Oh,” Uliana draws the sound out on a laugh, “You are going to be so fun.” 

                                          ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

    The next time (Y/n) sees Hook, he’s pressing the cool, dull side of his hook into the back of her neck, drawing a line down the part of her spine that her collar leaves uncovered as he tuts. “Princess,” it’s a coo, leaning over her shoulder as he speaks. Bodies so close you’d think that the two of them were thick as thieves. Across from the two Bridget is frozen, watching the pirate tease her sister with wide, terrified eyes. But (Y/n) just takes it, rolling her own eyes with a smirk, “Cap, running errands for your sea witch? I was hoping I meant enough that she would come see me herself.” The princess was a lot of things, but a fool -nor a coward- were titles that were on that list. No, she’d been waiting three days for this. When Uliana left their side in the library, she promised she’d be back with an idea of how she could “make it up to them” for “stealing Morgie from their schemes”. The princess didn’t assume the girl to be all talk, so this little charade came as no shock to her. Of course Uliana wouldn’t come on her own though, always sending Hook or Morgie to do her bidding. Perhaps, one of them was a coward. Whatever the girl had decided on, she could take it, she was positive of that. Morgie made her feel like she was floating, she’d hate to let her feet find the ground again when she’s been given a love like that. 

   “Uliana requests your presence, best not to keep her waiting,” he hums, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and forcing her to turn. “I’ll be back, Bridget. I’ll meet you in class?” She sends her sister a soft smile before turning back to the pirate wrapped around her shoulders, “So she figured out what my debt is, eh?” Though he tries to fight it, you can see the ghost of a smile fighting to replace the smirk on his face as he leads her away. (Y/n) was either the most confident person that he’s ever met or she was the best actor at Merlin Academy. He couldn’t quite read it either way and something about that made the girl so incredibly fascinating. Of course she was pretty, that was obvious, but if she always acts like this Hook can understand what made Morgie fall for her. He’s gently pushing her towards Uliana when they walk through the door, hoping the action looked rougher than it actually was. Smirk replacing his smile as he locks eyes with the excitable and impatient sea witch that stands in the middle of her dorm. This would be fun, by god this would be fun. 

    “Uli, Baby, Hook says you finally decided what you want with me? Took you longer than I thought you would,” she’s smirking as she refinds her footing. A soft, cold hand finds its way onto her shoulder as Morgie slinks up behind her and she fights to keep back the excited smile that begs to stretch across her face at his touch. This was the closest they’ve ever been to a public display of affection, it was impossibly hard not to bask in it. Uliana is raising a brow as she approaches them, “Oh did it? You were hoping I’d get to this faster, huh?” “Well, the faster we get this over with, the faster I can go back to making out with one of your lackeys, right?” Lips press against the top of her head as Morgie uses her hair to muffle his laughter. The feeling of it only eggs her on more, eyes growing ever so slightly more crazed. The sea witch before her lets out a cheap laugh, looking her over, “Yeah, something like that.” 

    A hand slinks up to rest on Morgie's, sparing him an adoring smile over her shoulder. “So, what’s my punishment, Uliana? I do have classes after this, can’t spend all day with the lot of you, dreadful for you I know.” A hand harshly comes out to grip her chin, holding the girl’s gaze on her as she speaks. “Well, we were thinking, since you affected one of our friendships, we should mess with one of yours, huh? An eye for an eye? Of course, you don’t have many friends so that precious sister of yours is going to have to do.” Bridget? Bridget doesn’t even know about (Y/n) and Morgie, she shouldn’t have to be brought into this. God she’d hate to know about the two of them at all. She doesn’t need this. But if that’s what it takes. 

   “What’s in it for me?” The words knock the smirk off of Uliana’s face, rendering the girl speechless. Hades and Maleficent become visible on her left as Hook takes her right side, proud smirks written across all three of their faces. This was a game to them, wasn’t it? She could handle that, (Y/n) likes games too. “Excuse you?” “What’s in it for me? I don’t see how bringing someone innocent into this is warranted unless I’m getting something out of it.” Uliana spares a look to Hades, the god only shrugging in response. “You get to keep Morgie, that’s what you get out of it! This is not a negotiation!” A giggle slips through the princess’ lips, turning around to look at her boyfriend. “What do you think, Baby? We went four months without them knowing, don’t you think we could pull off a fake break up and hide things better? No need to spare her feelings,” her hand slips up onto Morgie’s cheek as she speaks, the boy leaning into her touch as if it was magnetic. Adoring eyes flickering over her face as if he was suddenly unaware of the onlookers in the room. She was so pretty when she got all feisty, god he’d wanted to have her like this around his friends for so long. How bad would it be if Morgie just stole a quick kiss? 

    “That will not be happening,” Uliana’s voice is sharp, grabbing the girl’s shoulder to spin her back around. “Then it looks like this just turned into a negotiation, didn’t it, Uliana?” The girl huffs, glancing back to Hook who just shrugs in response. “What do you want out of it, then?” There’s this annoyed pout trying to hide the amusement that covers the girl in front of her and it makes (Y/n) smirk. “What do I want?” A hand comes out to dust Uliana’s shoulder as she mocks the question. “Yes, what do you want out of it? God, are you always like this?” A hum comes out of the princess’ lips, “Only with prey, darling, only with prey. See, Bridget might be a gentler soul, far more fit to rule, but me? Oh I can negotiate a prince out of his kingdom and  into his own grave. You’re taking my two friends from me for what? A boy that I get to keep kissing in secret? That’s not a fair trade.” 

   Her eyes flicker to Hades and Maleficent, smirking as she looks them over. They’re so close, so public. This constantly visible and proud display of affection no matter where they find themselves. “I want to be able to act like them,” she justs her chin out towards the couple and Uliana’s eyes follow the motion. “Absolutely not, there is no way I’ll allow Morgie to be seen like that with someone who isn’t one of us,” her arms cross over her chest as she glares at (Y/n) and the princess’ smirk only grows. “Oh yeah, well then I guess you’re going to have to let me into your little gang, aren’t you, Uli?” 

                                          ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

     The villain’s hideout at the Black Lagoon is nothing like (Y/n) imagined, but the past three days have led her to realizing it was in no way bad. Actually, she was pretty comfortable there. It was darker than most places in Camelot, closer to the lighting of Wonderland’s sun than the one that shines here. Perhaps that’s why Uliana liked it here, surely the light rivals the refracted version the ocean offered, there had to be something comforting to the sea witch about that. And with the promise of four friends and the most attractive boy she ever laid eyes on coming with the hideout, she had to say she was more than a little excited to be able to come into it openly instead of sneaking about. It was almost time for that, all she had to do was succeed in this one little stunt. One that would finish frogging a relationship her hand had already begun to unravel; of course, isn’t that how she ended up here to begin with? She knew that with Bridget goes Ella too, but did the girl ever actually like (Y/n)? The princess was fairly certain she was dead weight from the moment she stepped out of the rabbit hole; she was ready to go back to being a valuable player like she was back home. Back where Bridget’s only purpose was to rule as a figure head, not nearly mad enough for the kingdom’s own good. 

    This would get her that, surely it would. So why did part of her feel so sick? Her organs twisting around themselves like snakes, dragging against her spine like it was a dagger. Eating her alive from the inside out in a way that she wasn’t used to feeling. This was a good thing, wasn’t it? She’d have Morgie, she’d get to have friends more like the ones she had back home than Ella ever could be. She’d be out from under her sister’s incredibly kind yet cautious gaze. Able to love openly, to be seen by people she’d watched with morbid fascination and curiosity. This would be a good thing. So, (Y/n) pulls her knees up to her stomach and lets her eyes flutter closed. Arms wrapping around her legs as her head falls to rest on top of them. Taking slow breaths in through her nose and letting them shakily leave her mouth. Hoping for anything that will soothe the sickness building up in her gut, this normally worked for her, didn’t it?

Just as she’s beginning to relax, she feels the presence of someone in front of her. The princess tells herself that it’s probably just Morgie coming to check in on her. Or perhaps Hook, the pirate had taken an odd liking to her in the last few days, always seeming to hover, this unreadable look stretched across his otherwise cocky features every time he looked at her. But two calloused and extremely warm hands come to rest on her exposed elbows. There was no way that was Morgie, his hands were far too smooth and cold, more like stone than flames. So (Y/n) spares the energy to look up, eyes flickering to light blue hair and a stoney expression that held a touch more concern than his normal sarcastic features. 

     In the four days that (Y/n) has been hanging around the gang of villains, Hades has found himself quickly growing rather fond of the silver tongued princess. She was a red tinted sunrise on the horizon. Someone he could easily understand taking up space in Morgie’s heart as she’d quickly come to claim a spot in his. Something about her reminded him of his years stuck in time. Of siblings he was once so fond of. She reminded him a touch too much of Demeter, a sliver of life and renewal. Drawn so easily to green and growth, with this small air of selfishness fueled by nothing but her emotional compass. So much like that younger sister of his that he wished he could get her out of this whole thing. The princess of Wonderland was far too much like the goddess of harvest and what they were asking her to do? That was far more aligned with the works of his brothers. Far closer to those drawn straws that he shared with Poseidon and Zues, giving herself the longer straw and taking Olympus for her own hand, casting Bridget to the Underworld, alone in the dark. Could she live with herself if she went through with such a thing? Could Hades live with himself if it destroyed this gift of red apples and bright green leaves? 

   So he sinks to her eye level once he knows he has her attention. Voice small and nearly adoring as he looks at her with the softest expression his features will allow. “Are you sure you can do this, (Y/n)?” She nods but the movement is barely visible, hardly believable. “Your face is starting to match Morgie’s shirt, Princess. There’s no shame in backing out of this.” With his words, the girl’s face hardens, legs falling from their pulled up position to cross before her. (Y/n)’s shoulders square back, her chin rises and she takes on this unmistakable air of confidence. The same look she had when she declared that she wanted to be able to act like himself and Maleficent, she’s making sure that the villains in the room can’t look down on her. And Hades hates to admit to it, but he respects it. “Don’t try to psych me out, Hades. You can’t scare me away,” the tone she held on Monday is there but there's something about it that’s missing. Perhaps it’s just that Morgie is hovering over a cauldron with his own girlfriend and Uliana instead of over her. Hades can’t be quite sure.

   “I’d never,” he rubs his thumb over the side of her elbow as he talks, something about it seems to relax her. Good, at least he can give her that. “I just, listen (Y/n), I know what it feels like to have your sibling betray you. Bridget is your family and after this there is such a high chance that she will never forgive you again. Are you sure you want to take that risk over a boy?” Her red nail polish is stark against his pale skin as she lets a hand fall on top of his, a gentle smile on her lips. “Would you do it for Maleficent?” And Hades pauses, lip between his teeth. Of course he’d betray Zues, Hera, or Poseidon for Mali, he’d give the underworld for her. But if it was Hestia or Demeter, could he do it?  Could Hades betray growth and warmth for love? “I would, a hundred times over.” Something about his words seem to melt away some of the anxiety resting in the princess’ face as she squeezes his hand. “Then yes, I’d do it for Morgie, but I get you guys out of the deal too. I think trading one friend who I can’t hold a conversation with for four friends I can actually talk to is more than a step up.” She moves her hands to rest on her back, pressing into it until Hades hears a harsh “pop”. “Anyway, it’s not like Bridget and I are close at home. She has no friends and I have friends she hates, may as well make school match it. Plus, she never quite forgave me for burning down the West Wing tower while I was arguing with our Mother.” 

    Her answer earns her the most joyous laugh the crew thinks they’ve ever heard come from Maleficent, the dark pixie bouncing up to them with bewilderment in her eyes. “You burned down part of your own castle? Out of spite?” (Y/n) smirks, leaning towards Maleficent with this proud look in her eyes, “Oh, that isn’t even half of it. You know what they say, we’re all a little mad in Wonderland.” “Oh you beautiful little pyro,” Maleficent gives her a smile, reaching out to tap a finger against the tip of her nose. It earns her a playful smirk, the princess’ eyes shining with this mischievous glint as the pixie’s hand recoils. (Y/n) dusts off her pants as Hades rises to his feet before her. Taking an outstretched hand from the god to pull herself up with a confident smile that only Morgie can tell is faker than Hook’s arrogance. “Now, I don’t have all night. If we want me to be able to get into that dorm and get her diary we better get started.” 

    As she makes her way to Morgie, the princess refuses to meet his eyes. Her confidence can only hold for so long and the sorcerer had grown to be able to read her like a book, even from across the room. He was worth it, by the gods he was worth it. But what if Hades had a point? What if she was throwing away a possibly salvageable relationship with her sister for nothing more than a fair weather boy? Of course, Morgie hasn’t given her a reason to feel that way, but there was always the lingering concern, wasn’t there? How often did high school sweethearts turn out to be soulmates? She twirls the ring on her left hand as she looks over the cauldron, the heart shaped stone brushing over the inside of her middle finger and her pinkie as a grounding force as she takes in the blush pink rose that waits at the bottom of the vast black cast iron. She needed to do something for herself while she was in Bridget’s room, there was one thing that could solidify this. She could always lie and say she couldn’t find the diary, back out and run for the hills if she found something that would change her mind, couldn’t she? (Y/n) leans into the new found warmth of Morgie’s arm around her shoulder, the chill of his fingertips against her bicep grounding her to the moment. This is it, isn’t it? 

    With a delicate brush of her fingers, Uliana lifts the soft rose from the bottom of the cauldron, smiling at the girl who was quickly proving herself to be quite a good asset to her team. “Now, you’ll have to be careful with this, the spell on it can only affect one person. Make sure Bridget pricks her finger on one of the thorns, it will knock her out for six hours. Little Miss. Sunshine will wake up tomorrow with a completely normal flower in her hands and think she just fell asleep, got it?” (Y/n) nods, taking a deep breath as she reaches forward for the rose, eyes locked onto the soft, pale petals. It took Maleficent and Uliana forever to decide on a way to get the spell into the overly preppy princess; her sister could not mess this up for them. “Hook, Hades, and Maleficent are going to be waiting on you down the hall from her dorm. Mali here will use a speed reading spell to find the best pages in the diary and make copies of them. Then you, Hook, and Hades are going to plaster the courtyard in the copies, I don’t want any of the cobblestone visible, understand me?” And she nods again, visibly seeming to understand her place in the group as a lackey already. Good. 

     Before the princess can reach out for the rose, Morgie’s fingers catch under her chin, drawing her face up to him. “We should kiss first, for good luck.” How could she ever question that? What could ever lead her away from his perfect pale pink lips? So she smiles, letting her hand find his cheek as if it were second nature for her. (Y/n) pulls the boy down softly against her lips, pecking them with the softest kiss her anxious form can muster. “You be safe,” he whispers against her lips, pulling away from them in the gentlest way he can before pressing another quick kiss to his lover’s forehead. And she nods with a tight lipped smile, watching as he reaches for the cursed rose.

                                          ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

     Bridget’s dorm, much like her room back home, perfectly matches her. It’s almost a comforting sight to (Y/n)’s anxiously bouncing eyes. Or it would be if she didn’t know what she was here to do. The pink dorm room smells like strawberries and white chocolate, surely the scent comes from the little oven that waits patiently on a table in the girls room. The machine visibly on and letting out a soft hum as it bakes whatever it is her sister is making. Finally, as she forces them to stop bouncing, her eyes land on Bridget. Her bright pink hair is already done up in foam rollers at the top of her head, a magazine resting in her hands as she waits on whatever she’s baking to finish up so she can go to bed. (Y/n) fights to steady her hands as she approaches her sister, holding the rose carefully behind her back. 

   “Hey Bridge!” The gentle tone in her voice makes the girl lift her head, smiling at her with this nearly fond look on her face. “Everything okay?” No, it’s not. I am about to absolutely ruin you. “Yeah, I just went on a hike and I found the loveliest rose bush near the enchanted lake. The flowers made me think of you so,” she delicately pulls the bloom out from behind her back, offering it with a nervous smile to her always excitable sister. And just like she knew she would, Bridget bounces in her seat, reaching up for the pale pink flower with excited hands. (Y/n) drops her grip on the stem, barely avoiding a thorn as she lets it fall and Bridget’s hand circles around it, hissing slightly as one of the thick barbs jabs into the soft pad of her thumb. “Oh, ow,” she mumbles, readjusting the flower into her other hand so she can look at the prick point. It didn’t break skin, (Y/n) hopes it doesn’t have to for the spell to work. “Sorry, I should have warned you I didn’t take them off,” her voice is riddled with her anxiety and she can only hope that her sister can’t tell it’s not connected to the tiny flesh wound she’s earned. 

    Bridget shakes her head with a smile, letting the rose rest on the bed beside her, “No it’s okay! Really I should be more careful.” A yawn follows the words, big brown eyes slowly becoming harder to see through heavy eyelids. “I mean, why wouldn’t there be thorns on a rose, right?” She’s letting her eyes flutter closed, losing the fight to keep them open. And (Y/n) watches somewhere in between relief and horror as her sister slumps to her side on her bed, body nearly toppling over as her magazine hits the floor. She should feel awful, but some odd part of her relaxes, moving to adjust Bridget on the bed just like the pink girl had done for her a hundred times before when she’d come home after a touch too much fun. Gentle hands take the girls legs and pull them onto the bed, laying the soft pink fleece throw from the bottom of the bed over her tired form. The magazine being lifted up and placed onto the nightstand, the rose settling on top of it. Not that Bridget will want anything to do with the flower this time tomorrow, but the morning version of her would feel terrible if she were to step on it. (Y/n) knows this. 

    Quite frankly, (Y/n) knows her half-estranged sister a touch too well. Which is how she knows exactly where the white leather bound journal she bought her two Christmases ago will be sitting. The spine standing out stark and bare on her bookshelf between a copy of “Romeo and Juliet” and some enchanted pastries cookbook. It’s an invasion of privacy to even touch the thing, let alone to hand it over to her tormentors to use it against her. She’ll probably abandon the thing once and for all after this though, not the (Y/n) isn’t hyper aware of what type of things will be littering the pages. Things about how cute she thought Hook was when they first started school here, how she just doesn’t understand why she finds Ella oh so charming, mentions of how truly lonely Camelot is, how lonely Wonderland always was. Every single thought the girl had would be waiting in that journal and now the stark white is waiting patiently between her hands. Pure innocence against the violent red of her coffin shaped nails. Without any other thoughts to what she was doing, she slips the book under her arm, hands ghosting back over her shelf. (Y/n) just needed one more thing before she could slip out the door with this little book, one little push to prove that even if it hurt someone she was supposed to love, what was happening would mean something. There it is, waiting on the edge of a mid tier shelf, dust coating the top of its red gems. 

    Of course there would be dust on it. Bridget loves surprises, always swore to never use the thing, but her sister? Oh (Y/n) needs it, so desperately in a way she’d never needed anything before. Her hand reaches out for the little mirror, bottom lip between her teeth as she grasps it. “Alright, looking glass,” she whispers it, as if her new found friends would hear her down the hall, or Bridget had the ability to wake up before her spell wore off. “I need you to prove to me that this is worth it. What does my future look like with Morgie? Where does this go?” Shaking hands pop open the compact little mirror, looking herself dead in the eye, she whispers the words again. Her stomach swirling in a mix of hope and fear that’s nearly enough to make bile rise to her mouth as her reflection clouds over. Then, it dissipates, leaving a new image in the wake of her own watchful eye’s reflection. 

    A man, probably one seven or so years older than she is right now is looking back at her in the glass, and though she’s never seen him like this before, she’d recognize those eyes anywhere. He’s laughing- a sound that (Y/n) can’t truly hear but she knows all too well- with a little girl dressed in red perched on his shoulders, one hand tangled in his hair. She’s clearly pulling his hair as she reaches down for something but Morgie won’t quite let her get to it. Then the image pulls out slightly, revealing a woman who is probably somewhere in her mid twenties, she’s in red too and it takes the princess a moment to realize who she’s looking at. Watching the way tired eyes look up to Morgie with a fondness, looking between a blanket resting in her arms and the man before her as she says something that (Y/n) can’t quite hear. It’s her, and the blanket isn’t just a blanket. Now the face of a baby looks up from the green knit material as this older version of herself references from the baby’s little nose and up to Morgie’s. It’s them, happy and laughing and holding two kids who both seem to be under the age of four and it’s so cozy. As if the four of them don’t recognize anything but the love existing between them. 

    The sight seems to settle some knot in her stomach as she lets the gold compact close again. (Y/n) puts it gently back into it’s place before she turns to Bridget again. She gets a family from this, yes maybe she loses one too , but she gets her dream life from this one little step. And that means something, doesn’t it? For her to get what she wants from this life is enough for her to do this one, fairly harsh, thing. Morgie isn’t a fair weather boy, he’s the sunlight that shines off of the green grass of the forest floor. She can do this if it means a life with him, the princess is sure of that. So she does the last acts of kindness she can afford to give her sister. She crosses to her oven, smiling as she reaches in time with the timer’s little ding, and pulls out the strawberry cookies that the other princess had undoubtedly spent an hour or so on, letting the hot tray rest  on a spare pot holder. And as she turns off the table top oven, she turns to look at her sister, the future queen of Wonderland, who sleeps soundly on her bed. (Y/n) lets herself wander to the girl’s bedside, laying a feather-like kiss onto her forehead, and with this final act of kindness, she finds her way back to Bridget’s door. 

   Walking out of the pink, and the Wonder, and the Hearts family line. And into something new, something dark blue and maroon and black. Into the le Fay line and the waiting hands and hooks of friends who were more like her than (Y/n) would have admitted to herself five months ago. She lets her speed pick up, running to the waiting hands of Hook and Maleficent who both hold a look somewhere between wicked excitement and annoyance. “What took so long?” The dark pixie’s words are hissed as she puts a well manicured hand out for the white leather book. “She moved the damned thing,” the princess hisses back, letting it fall into Maleficent’s hand as she leans into Hook’s side. Unable to watch as Maleficent tears her sister’s psyche apart, she lets her eyes flicker over to the pirate beside her. Hook is smiling at her -not his normal cocky smirk but this real genuine, almost kind thing- looking more proud of her than her parents ever have as he pats her shoulder in this nearly loving way. “You did good, Princess. You did really good.” She smiles back to him, fighting the “thank you” that begs to hang off her tongue as she turns back to the pixie and the god before her. 

    “Hey Mali,” she starts and the pixie doesn’t correct her to using her full name. She’s earned the nickname now, or at least (Y/n) supposes that’s what that means. “Yes?” There was one more kindness that she could spare her sister, (Y/n) has to do one last thing for her. She owes Bridget that. “I was thinking -and I know that the plan was already set in stone so you can tell me no- what if we changed a few things in the copies?” Maleficent’s eyes flash this sickly green hue as they flicker up to her, a blank expression taking over the rest of her features. “Like what?” “Well,” she doesn’t realize she’s wrapped her arm around Hook until she feels her fingers wrap around cold metal. The sensation seems to stabilize her though, the girl taking a deep breath as she continues, “Bridget is head over heels for Ella, and I know that the little peasant,” the insult pains her to say it but she pushes through, “has the hots for my sister too. So what if we changed the name of the girl she’s writing about to be someone else? Make it where her crush thinks her love is unrequited so that Bridget can’t have her?” Mali’s smirk is undoubtedly proud as she looks (Y/n) over, “You might just be more nasty than we thought, Princess.” 

                                          ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

      Bridget Hearts knows that something feels off when she wakes up that next morning. She’s far more groggy than she’s used to being, something about being awake feels too far off, but she is. Strangest of all, she doesn’t remember being tired, she has no knowledge of falling asleep, but obviously she did. And from the red lipstick mark on her forehead, and the pink blanket she woke up tucked beneath, she knows her sister was still there when she fell asleep. It’s an oddly comforting thought, the roles of the two girls being reversed, but it’s enough to put a slight pep in Bridget’s step as she packs up her strawberry cookies and makes her way down the hall to meet Ella at the school’s front entrance. 

    She tries not to think anything of it as her friend grabs her hand, leading her to the cafeteria to grab their breakfast before making their way to the courtyard like they always do. Nothing about what the two girls are doing is abnormal. They’re falling into their daily routine like they always have, talking about how Ella’s night was and about the Prince who clearly wants to date her. Bridget trying not to give into her jealousy over Prince Charming. It would be perfectly mundane, if it wasn’t for the whispering. Those pointed eyes that seem to follow Bridget everywhere she goes, as if they can see through her. She has half the nerve to look down and check that she remembered pants that morning. Bridget feels thoroughly exposed to the gazes of the student body around her, and yet she has no clue what they’re seeing. 

    It’s when they make their way into the courtyard that Bridget begins to understand what’s happening. The cobblestone that surrounds it is covered in pages of something. And those pages have a far too familiar pink hue to them, the corners marked with spades and hearts and clubs and diamonds, just like the diary that her sister gifted her a few years before. She puts her breakfast tray down beside Ella and Bridget promises that she’ll be right back, wandering over to one of the walls as she feels every eye in the courtyard watching her. When she reaches it though, Bridget doesn’t have to look hard to recognize her own handwriting, her eyes skimming a few pages. “Any yeah, I know he’s a pirate but maybe he’d want to steal my heart as well as treasure.” “Of course, I understand how (Y/n) makes friends easier but that doesn’t mean it’s not incredibly lonely. I miss the way that it used to be.” “If I knew that boarding school would be as lonely as being homeschooled, maybe I would have just stayed in Wonderland. Of course I have Ella but I wish more people saw me. Maybe I should try using my baking skills, people like gifts, don’t they?” 

    And as if it’s knocking the air out of her lungs, her eyes land on the worst of it. “Obviously someone like Aladdin would be able to get her attention, I’m an idiot for ever thinking that she would see me. I mean, I’m just the idiot who thought leaving Wonderland could get her more friends, that’s my stupid mistake. But even though Jasmine doesn’t seem interested in him, I can’t help but wish she’d tell him that. I want her to look at me, not him and his stupid hair.” Though she’d pinned them down as her diary entries a few lines ago, this one is just wrong. She wasn’t talking about Jasmine and Aladdin, Bridget didn’t have a crush on Jasmine. This was originally about Ella, about Ella and Prince Charming’s stupid hair and his stupid smile and his stupidly obvious crush on the girl that Bridget wanted just as badly. With her eyes growing more blurry by the second, Bridget pulls away, turning as she hears a wicked little laugh behind her. 

    The sound feels unnatural as (Y/n) lets it slip from her lips. The princess nearly cringing at the forced laughter she lets out as she looks at her sister. Bridget with her teary eyes and quivering lip, staring at the arm wrapped around the girl’s shoulder as if it was a snake about to lash out at snap at her. Then her eyes travel, away from Morgie le Fay’s arm and down to the white leather resting between bright red coffin shaped claws. “Sis, thank you so much for letting me borrow this book, it was a real,” she forces another laugh, “Page turner.” Bridget’s mouth falls open and closed a few times, as if she can’t force a sound out of her throat. Eventually, after a choked sob, the pink girl manages to clench her fists, something in the motion seeming to ground her as she looks at her, “You did this? How? When? Why?” 

   It’s nearly impossible not to shrink away into her boyfriend’s side, (Y/n) wasn’t quite ready to see her sister look this impossibly broken. She felt sick, that same taste of bile that welled into her mouth last night fighting to make its way back. “You liked the rose, didn’t you, Bridge? I just thought you know, a gift,” her hand waves to Bridget and then to the wall and the rest of the villains, “For a gift.” She tosses the book in her hands away from her like it’s poison, letting it find a home in front of Bridget’s shoes as she reaches her now empty hand up to her shoulder to hold onto Morgie’s. He presses a kiss to her temple, laughing as he watches Bridget scramble to get her diary. And then, in the snap of Maleficent’s perfectly manicured fingers, the pink pages wallpapering the cobblestones are gone. “Just needed a little fun for our new girl is all,” Uliana all but coos the words to the pink princess before her, stepping closer, “I’m pretty sure you know her? Morgie’s girlfriend?” Bridget recoils as if Uliana’s slapped her, and (Y/n) watches tears finally fall from her eyes as she turns on her heel and runs away from all six VKs. 

   Finally, without the watching eyes of her shattering sister, the princess lets herself shrink down, shoulders slumping as she crumbles into Morgie’s gentle embrace. He knows her too well, far too well, because after he feels her shift, he turns to his friends and promises they’ll be right back. With their nods and “okays” they all move to go back to their breakfast table, and Morgie pulls his lover into one of the hallways beside the courtyard. A quiet and dark one, the least used of them, and he untangles himself from her. Instead moving to stand in front of (Y/n), one hand on her shoulder while the other tilts her head up from by chin. “Hey, you did it, it’s over,” his voice is barely above a whisper, looking her over as if he’s trying to check her for injuries. The princess nods, reaching up a slightly shaky hand to rest on his cheek, pulling the boy down and into a real kiss. 

   This one isn’t like the other ones they’ve shared. Not quick and timid pecks of two kids sneaking around and scared to get caught. Not the gentle and quick kiss they shared before this all started last night. No where near the needy and touchy make out sessions they’d take any chance they had the time. Nor the playful and touchy kisses that turned into tickle fights and neck kiss. But something new. Soft, delicate as a rose petal. It’s warmth meeting cold, skin meeting scales, the green of grass getting caught up in the red sky of a early autumn sunrise. As if she was managing to seal their energies into one, locking him to her in the only way the two teens knew how. The kiss was them, and Morgie le Fay knew no other way to describe it. When she pulls away, leaving her forehead pressed to his, he can’t bring himself to open his eyes yet. Instead, breaking the grin on his lips to softly ask, as if he feared scaring her off, “What was that for?” 

   She giggles, this sound that isn’t quite like the one that spilled from her lips when she realized the position she’d fallen into when she tripped over her untied shoelace and fell into his lap four months ago. But it’s closer to her real laugh than he’s heard in a week, and this giggle can be enough for him right now, because even if she said she was okay with it, he knows the girl he loves just broke her own heart for him. “I just put myself through hell to be able to do that, I couldn’t wait a second longer.” And yeah, this can be enough for him right now, especially when she’s leaning back into him, as if their lips have their own magnetic pull to them. 

                                          ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

    Oddly enough, on her first day as an official villain, Hades and Maleficent ask her to hang out, and who would (Y/n) be if she said no? It was nice, even if it meant that she didn’t get back to her dorm until seven p.m. when she’d only gotten three hours of sleep before being up at six a.m. for class. Turns out that the two were nicer than she thought, they might even have the ability to grow into two of her closest friends. Especially if they keep talking to her like she deserves to be seen. She’s pretty sure that Morgie is the only person who has ever tried to see her, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to have his -their- friends see her too. Not as the rebel or the princess of diamonds, not as the arsonist or the bad sister, but as (Y/n). She wouldn’t mind that she was just now getting back from seeing people who wanted to see her soul, her exhausted mind begging her to go to sleep this early, if it wasn’t for the cardboard box outside of her dorm. 

    The thing is an obvious eyesore in an otherwise well decorated hallway; so despite the voice that begs her not to touch it, (Y/n) bends down and grabs it. Toting the thing into her room and letting it fall to the desk. The same voice that begged her not to touch the box now tries to convince her not to open it. But the princess of diamonds has always had the curiosity of a cat. So she ignores the voice for the second time that day, lifting the cardboard lid and letting it clatter to the floor. She knows the contents of the box well enough to know exactly where it all came from but (Y/n) lifts the pink paper that sits on the top of it anyway. Brows furrowing as something falls from the page, clattering against the ground like metal as she flips open the folded sheet. 

   The paper is from the same journal that got her to this point, a diamond sitting in the bottom corner of the page which felt terribly deliberate. And Bridget’s perfect handwriting is surrounded by marks that the other princess is sure had to have been born from tears, shaking hands barely holding it steady. “I don’t need to look into the looking glass to know we don’t come back from this one. Signed, The Princess of Hearts.” Somewhere, deep inside of herself, (Y/n) knows exactly what fell to the floor when she opened the note. But that doesn’t stop the princess from dropping to her knees to search for it. She’s right, of course she’s right, there laying on her hardwood floor, rests a golden band that holds a red marquis cut stone. Suddenly the heart shaped ring on (Y/n)’s finger weighs fifteen pounds. 

                                          ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

     Hook was not the type that enjoyed when his quiet time was disturbed, and he definitely considered the rushed banging on his door room door to be just that. But with Morgie not in the room, it seems that it’s left up to him to answer whoever thinks they have the right to interrupt his viewing of tonight’s episode of “Three’s a Crowd”. The pirate throws his legs over the side of the bed, storming over to the door and ripping it open as the incessant knocking seems to grow louder. “Can I fucking help,” he cuts his own question short, eyes falling on the princess he seems to be growing oddly attached to, “(Y/n) what’s wrong?” 

   That one little question seems to be the straw that breaks the camel’s back, the princess falling into shaking sobs as her knees buckle beneath her. Hook doesn’t think about it as he reaches out for her, letting his arms slide beneath hers to steady the girl, pulling her into both his chest and his dorm. “Hey,” he’s never been the best with crying and the feeling of her hot tears sinking into his pajama top is almost unnerving but he does his best to sound gentle. “Hey, princess, what is it? I’ve got you.” Through strangled sobs she manages to speak, “Where is he? I need him.” He softly pressed her head to rest further into his -now wet- shoulder, adjusting his grip on her to hold her ever so slightly tighter. “He’s just in the shower, he’ll be back any minute. Lass, talk to me, what happened?” 

    It's nearly impossible for him to decipher through the blubbering tears that rack the girl’s body but Hook follows along the best that he can. Something about matching rings of each other’s symbols and baby pictures being given back to her. A story of a page from a stolen diary and two princesses that would never be sisters by anything but blood ever again. The princess painting a tale of a light in the dark shining through in the visions of a compact mirror that proved she’d be a le Fay by name and have a family through love. And finally through a last shaking sob, she says the first thing that Hook fully can grasp. “Hades told me that it would feel this bad but, god. Hook, she hates me. How am I supposed to spend three months at home with her and away from Morgie when I chose him over her?” 

    He might not be able to do much. Hook can’t fix this, he can’t look to her and admit that he feels so incredibly guilty. He can’t tell (Y/n) that he’s known about her and Morgie for two, almost three, whole months now and didn’t care. That Morgie came home with her signature red lipstick lingering on his collar and he knew immediately where his roommate had been sneaking off to because no one at Merlin Academy thought red lips were a staple but the princess before him. Hook can’t admit to the girl that he never cared about their relationship, he can’t admit that he thought this entire thing was fucked and terrifying. The pirate can’t tell her that he can’t turn off the part of his mind wondering if Uliana would do this to keep her claws in the sorcerer that already worships her, what would she do to his potential partner? He can’t tell her anything about this situation that would make him feel like less than a dick, but he can keep her out of that castle. He can protect her from a bomb that he helped to craft. 

    So Hook lets his mouth fall open, and as if it was the most casual thing on Earth, he speaks this heavy and adoring offer into existence. “You could always join my crew, Morgie, and I on the Jolly Roger this summer. No need to go home and see her constantly if you don’t want to. I already let a sorcerer use my ship to escape a house that doesn’t feel like a home, I’d be more than willing to let a negotiator join my crew too.” She looks to him, a ghost of a smile dotting her lips, and for the first time since she entered his dorm, the girl takes a steady breath. “Do you mean that?” He nods, untangling himself from the girl so she can see him better, so she can take in the honesty that litters his features. “Only if that’s something you want, Lass.” “Please,” she breathes the word out, smiling at the pirate with this gentle sense of hope in her eyes. And yeah, maybe Hook did lead her to the slaughter, but now he’d be her adoring cattle dog instead. 

   Morgie walks in as she speaks, pulling a t-shirt over his head, curls out and visible from the water that clings to them. Of course he’s heard at least the tail end of their conversation, far too many questions wait to roll off his tongue. But first, he smiles because he can finally have her in his room and it not be a problem. So the sorcerer walks up to his girlfriend, pulling her against him and pressing a kiss to her heated and slightly salty cheek, “To what do I owe the honor?” She’s turning in his arms, nuzzling into the crook of his neck with her arms around his waist, “Can I stay here tonight? Currently every physical thing that exists in terms of my relationship with my sister is sitting in my dorm and I just can’t be there.” And of course his answer is yes, why wouldn’t it be yes? He’s been waiting months for a chance to fall asleep in her arms, and that’s what all of this mess was for, wasn’t it? The purpose of all of this chaos was to be able to reach the calm in their storm, was it not? So he lets another kiss fall to the top of her head as he tightens his grip on her, and he sends a thankful look to the pirate in the tear stained tee. Maybe Morgie le Fay was meant to have a family, even if it came in the form of red tinted moonlight and rocking waves.

[grapejuicestyless]

Pomegranates

Harry Styles x fem!reader

Summery: Y/n is naive and Harry knows it. She is so easy to fool, so easy to change. Her heart, something meant to be a gift is her curse. And it only hurts her in the end. Based off of pomegranate symbolism.

ANGST(what else am I good for)

How selfish the world is. To allow a person, so sweet and soft. To give love, share love with whomever they choose. Only to let another mutilate the heart that was once full.

To let the wicked taint the pure and the cruel diminish the kind. It was a sick thing, but something that would never be changed. While you could avoid the easily detectable, sometimes flaws came out over time. As you peel back the layers, you submerge yourself into the mess you let yourself make. And over time, you begin to wonder if it’s truly worth it.

Y/n really liked pomegranates. She told Harry that on their first date. Rapid fire questions between the two of them, candle light dinner and a glimmer in their eyes. More than that, something she was too shy to share out loud, she found that she really liked his eyes. How green they were. They truly were captivating, in a way she had never experienced before.

She liked the way his toothy grin made her feel excited. How his hands would ghost over her skin and leave goosebumps in their wake. When he whispered those sweet nothings to her, she felt nothing but desire for her lover beside her. His hot breath by her neckline and his possessive touch.

When her friends warned her they were moving far too fast, she shrugged them off, scoffing and teasing about love and jealousy. She didn’t see an issue with their pace. How quickly she’d moved in, how quietly she’d distanced herself from everyone else. Harry had told her that they were no good friends. Real friends wouldn’t try to pry and break apart relationships. He whispered in her ear about jealousy and selfishness. And the sparkle in his eyes and the way his arms wrapped tighter around her made Y/n believe him somehow.

It was the start of the end, and Y/n could not see it.

But it was in her nature. Born to become someone who nurtured, not to be nurtured. With her well spoken tongue and her infectious laughter. Her trusting heart and foolish soul. Everyone always knew she was destined for a life of happiness, even if it was under false pretenses.

Merely ten months into their relationship, when Harry got down properly on one knee, declaring his love to her with tears in his eyes and a shaky voice, Y/n proudly put the rock on her finger and smiled with such innocence it was certain the girl was unaware of the suffering that would come.

Her parents warn her that he’s no good. That under all his affection there’s a wicked man with a sinister smirk and a list of hurting people. Her friends tell her she’s making a mistake. And only three of her friends come to the wedding.

She doesn’t understand why, at first. Each morning, he greets her with a kiss, raspy morning voice mumbling about how he still can’t process that she is finally his. At night, he has her beneath him, puffs of air escaping their mouths and lips locking together messily. She’s never felt more loved. He’s a loving man who treats her right, so why is their love so disapproved of?

She had a kind spirit, a trusting heart, and a foolish soul. It was obvious. An innocent little thing. Something so easy to take advantage of, to manipulate.

Y/n loved pomegranates, so she should’ve known. The more you peel back the layers, the messier it gets.

Soon, the sweet nothings turn to dead silence. And bodies pressed together with no room to breathe turns to backs facing each other and prayers from Y/n that he will once again show her the same affection that he once had for her.

Silent prayers turn to countless efforts to catch his attention. Home cooked meals, new dresses, new perfumes. She’s nearly there. Peeling back pieces at a time. She’s craving the sweetness she once had before. The sweetness she believes is still there. Somewhere in an undiscovered space.

It consumes her until she has nothing left to change, nothing left to give. She has done all the work, put in all the effort. Harry has ripped her apart and taken all the sweetness she had to offer. He has left behind a distant, heartbroken woman. Only the husk left behind from what once was.

When he kisses her goodnight, he doesn’t even notice the difference in her eyes. The cloudiness or the way her smile lines have turned to frown lines. Her eyebrows have wrinkles in front of them and her skin by her nails is picked and pulled completely raw.

He doesn’t notice because he doesn’t care. Because he doesn’t have to work for it anymore. She’s already his. Completely and forevermore.

Harry thought it was amusing, the whole situation. How she’d bent to his will. Made the mess for him, peeling back each layer of skin until the fruit was left bare and vulnerable to him. And she let him take it all without a fight.

On their first date, Y/n had mentioned how much she loved pomegranates. Promised she would slice and peel them just so he could have a taste. She raved about the sweetness inside. Harry didn’t think it was worth the mess.

And he still didn’t.

[zuko-always-lies]

List of Azula AU/fic ideas

Better parenting Ursa

Azula raises Katara AU (and continued) and more

Azula and Katara get friendly postwar and talk about their brothers.

Mai is significantly older than Azula and Ty Lee AU (Older "sister" Mai)

Jin works at Iroh's teashop but finds out about his past

Zuko tells Azula about the Spirit Water

Ursa and Ozai get along better, and it's not a good thing AU

Imperialist Lu Ten survives the war and tries to regain his throne afterwards

Zuko finds out more about his nation AU

Revolutionary Azula takes over Ba Sing Se AU

Three different AU ideas in one

Favoritism in the royal family is a little different

What if Zuko had a nonbending twin sister (who he doesn't get along with).

Zuko's daughter changes how he sees Azula

Zuko and Ursa try to isolate Azula ("for her own good")

Ozai gets exiled and the Gaang stupidly ally with him

Earth Kingdom ends up with custody of Azula postwar and support her bid for the Fire Nation throne when Zuko starts another war with them.

The Gaang tries to figure out why Zuko joined them.

Dangerous Ladies find Ursa in Book 2

Azula and Toph fake dating

Zuko/"world leaders" try to force Aang to take away Azula's bending and he's very much not OK with it.

Azula is thrown away to the NWT postwar as a trinket and Chief Arnook adopts her.

Comics! Ursa's letter about Zuko being a bastard gets out.

Zuko and Katara lie about what happened during the Agni Kai

An exiled Azula finds Fire Imperialist! Ursa postwar

Aang has to save Azula from being executed by Zuko

Zuko's defection during DoBS goes very badly for Mai

Zuko joins the Gaang at Ba Sing Se, but it ends poorly

Zuko killed Azula during the Agni Kai, and now he has to deal with the consequences.

AU idea where Zuko keeps Azula permanently imprisoned in bad and torturous conditions postwar, and Izumi finds out about when she’s relatively young, and draws exactly the sort of conclusions about her parents that you would expect. Not to mention being terrified that she might be treated the same way if she missteps…

Ozai never declares Zuko and Iroh traitors

Iroh-Azula roleswap au

Zuko asks Azula for help with his firebending

Zuko wants Azula to like him but doesn't get why she doesn't like him (postwar)

Katara has an arranged marriage with Zuko and Azula tries to get into the good graces of her sister in law

"Katara is supposed to have an arranged marriage with Zuko, but she falls in love with Azula instead."

Another take on Zvtara (arranged marriage) and Maizula.

Azula-Katara AU idea (or: Katara runs into an Azula who has changed a lot in some ways and not very much in others)

Zuko is actually Ikem's son

Firelord Azula ends her brother's exile

Azula raises Izumi (it's complicated)

"AU idea: Azula commits suicide out of despair, and just about everyone is convinced that Zuko had her murdered or at the very least “encouraged” her to do it."

Dangerous Ladies get banished/declared traitors and Azula basically gives up. Mai has to step up her place

I have to say, “Zuko has to deal with finding out that Ursa very much isn’t who he believed she was” remains excellent fanfic fodder.

"AU idea: Ursa is more aware of Ozai’s abuse and potential for abuse than in canon, so, right after her exile, she seeks out Iroh and charges him with protecting both of her children."

Firelord Iroh treats Azula in a really screwed up way.

"AU where Azula dies during the latter stages of the war or right after it, and Mai is the only person who ever morns her as a person, not as a politically convenient symbol (Ty Lee runs away from her complex feelings on Azula as much as she can)."

Dark idea

"Since so much of the fandom is convinced that Azula is Zuko’s older sister, I need an AU where this is true and Zuko is just as throne-obsessed as canon and spends all his time trying to usurp his older sister."

"AU where Ozai has a heart attack and dies right after the fire siblings return to the Fire Nation, and Zuko and Azula have to pick up the pieces. Meanwhile, the Gaang are plotting to overthrow them and bring the war to a close once and for all..."

King Kuai adopts Azula as his heir

Things get complicated, darkly (Azula exiled postwar AU)

What if Zuko tried to be a good brother

"I really need an AU where Lu Ten returns and is pissed over Ozai’s usurpation, so he kills Ozai, seizes the throne, and continues the war. Of course, Iroh ends up supporting his actual son in all of this, and the conflict in the Fire Nation ends up boiling down to Zuko and Azula vs. Lu Ten and Iroh as the situation spirals toward civil war, at the same time the 100 years war continues."

"Maizula AU where Mai married Zuko, but he died not long after Izumi was born, and Azula and Mai are secretly carrying out a relationship while raising Izumi and ruling the Fire Nation as her regents."

Azula joins the Gaang with a twist...

"The chaos which would result if Lu Ten showed up alive again in Book 1 and launched a rebellion against Ozai in pursuit of “his” throne."

Ursa opposes Firelord Zuko

Iroh tries to kill Azula during "The Chase"

Mai and Ty Lee on trial for "war crimes"" and Azula has to save them

This is very long list, and people are welcome to steal any ideas they want from it for their own use.

[cateyesinlove]

 Aemond Targaryen x OC, Cregan Stark x OC

Chapter one; The sea-star

Rhaella stepped into the Godwoods holding onto Lord Dodrik with all her strength, a sadness crashed onto her as a wave but she ignored it, even when she always imagined her wedding day as a day where there would be no clouds in Kinglanding and all her family would be surrounding her and Daemon would be giving her away. She felt the same sadness that her father Laenor couldn't be the one to walk her down the aisle.

Sara was sanding before the heat tree and asked, “Who comes? Who comes before the Gods?”

Lord Rodrink answered, “Princess Rhaella of House Velaryon and Targaryen comes here to be wed. A woman grown and flowered, trueborn and noble, she comes to beg the blessings of the gods. Who comes to claim her?"

Cragan stepped closer to them and answered him"Me, Cregan of House Stark, Warden of the North. I claim her. Who gives her?"

The escort says, "Lord Rodrick of House Dustin, loyal subject and friend” he answers and turns to Rhaella, "Princess Rhaella, will you take this man?” he asked 

Rhaella smiled and replied, "I take this man." taking the hand Cregan had extended to her.

Cregan smiled and guided her in front of the heart tree, they both kneeled and prayed. Cregan prayed to his father and brother hoping he had done the right thing in helping Princess Rhaella while indulging the feelings for her. Rhaella instead silently cried for Luke, she prayed he was with father and aunt Laena, that they both had received him and were loving him the way her family did when he was alive, she prayed for her sister Visenya that her grandmother Aemma was with her and looked after her and finally, she prayed to her gods, the gods of old Valyria to give her the strength to destroy the Hightower.

Cregan was the first one to stand up and offered a hand to Rhaella to help her get up, he signaled for Sara to bring the cloak and after asking her to turn around, Cregan wrapped her in the beautiful gray cloak with a massive stark wolf symbol. 

She turned around and kissed her husband surprising him but causing the few expectators to erupt in cheers. 

She was no longer Rhaella Targaryen, bethrod of Aemond One Eye, from now on she was Rhaella Stark, Lady of Winterfell. 

And winter will come with Fire and Blood for those who had wronged her.

Red Keep Year 117 AC

Rhaella could hear the screams of her mom through the door, as some tears gathered in her eyes she held onto her father who had come running to await the birth of his son. Rhaella had been reading to her mother that morning when she had begun her labors. 

“ It will be okay my darling star.” Leanor murmured into her daughter's brown curls hugging her tight, “ Your mother and sibling will be okay.”

“Are you sure you would rather not go somewhere else?” Leanor asks worried for his little girl. Rhaella since birth had been such a sweet babe, she had cried the least between his children, and she would sleep through most of the night and be a cheerful delight through the day, The realm delight born again he would hear the whispers at court and through the city. 

Rhaella shook her head holding on to her father,” No no, I wish to see mother and my sibling as soon as I can.” 

“CUNT!” Rhaenyra screamed startling both father and daughter. 

“What does that mean?” asked Rhaella confused, Laenor simply laughed quietly. “Nothing you have to worry yourself with daughter,” He replied. 

After a couple more hours a maid came through the door with the biggest smile, “A BOY YOUR GRACE, YOU HAVE ANOTHER BOY!” She shouted excitedly. 

“Oh, how marvelous!”Laenor excitedly picked up Rhaella making her giggle and hold tighter to her father. “And Rhaenyra, how is my wife?” he asked securing Rhaella to his hip, while his daughter was older he still indulged himself and her carrying her when no one who would judge was around. 

“Both the Princess and the little prince are healthy and in good spirits!” she answered, returning to Rhaenyra. 

“You hear that my star,” Laenor said kissing his daughter's hair, “Both mother and your new brother are fine.” 

A maid passed behind them making his way to Rhaenyra, both Laenor and Rhaella sat on the chair waiting to be let in when they saw Rhaenyra walking out of the room with the babe in her arms. 

“Mother!” Rhaella exalted making her way to Rhaenyra quickly, “What are you doing!” she inquired alarmed, panicking that her mother or sibling could get hurt. 

“Rhaenyra what is the meaning of this!” Laenor demanded arriving at her side, holding her close to him, and helping her while walking towards the door.

“She wishes to see him, immediately,” Rhaenyra growled and tears gathering in her eyes. 

“She can not mean right in this moment!”He exclaimed, both adults enrapped in their conversation forgetting Rhaella was trailing after them.  

“She wishes to see him and I refuse to be parted with my newborn son,” she said eyes closed in pain and panting. 

“Mother I think you should rest!” Rhaella called reminding her parents she was there, and both of them gasped looking at her. 

“I can’t my dear,” she said wincing in pain, Laenor was quick to hold her close to him and warp a second pair of arms around his new baby. “Queen Alicent wishes to see the babe at once and I will not be parted from your brother, not even one second” She explained leaning on Laenor. 

“But mother, you are in so much pain!” Rhaella exclaimed, a frustrated child scared for her mom as tears gathered in her eyes. “Her grace must know you are in no state to go see her!” she said. 

Rhaenyra straight up a bit, “Well she is demanding to see your brother, I see no other solution  but for me to take him.” She said in between deep breaths trying to manage the pain. 

“The Queen is sweet and kind!” Rhaella exclaimed with a smile, “ She mustn't have thought about coming to see you but I will explain to her, how you are in so much pain so she must come to you!” the prince exclaimed excitedly and turned around to run towards Alicent Chambers. 

“Wait Rhaella!!” both her parents screamed with surprise but it was too late, the little princess was dashing through the court in her beautiful blue gown and greeting every lord and lady she recognized alongside the staff she held dear to her heart. Laenor looked fondly at her beautiful daughter, she shone like a star brightening this old castle. 

Rhaenyra laughed through the pain at the look on Laenor's face and sighed once more leaning on Laenor, “Well at least this solves this problem,” she murmured eyes closed. 

Laenor huffed, “I have yet to see one person deny anything to our daughter,” he joked, “I dare Alicent Hightower to be the first .” he said laughing and helping Rhaenyra move back to her room.

“Good luck, cunt,” Rhaenyra murmured under her breath and allowed Laenor to guide her back to the room, small Joffrey still asleep in her mother's arms.

Little Rhaella quickly made her way up the stairs running towards the Queen's chamber, she knew in her heart if she explained to the Queen how much pain her mother found herself in, she would understand and would walk to her mother's chambers by her side. 

“Good morrow Lord Caswell” Rhaella greeted on the stairs, she had stopped and curtsy like her septa had taught her, like every princess should. “Lady Caswell” 

“Good morrow, little princess,” the lord and his wife bowed to her, Lord Caswell couldn’t help but smile, delighted by the manners of the princess, The seastar of the realm he would hear people call her. While she would not be inheriting Drifmark given the incident years ago, she was still very loved by its people and in Kingslanding, truly the realm’s delight daughter. “How is your morning Princess?” he asked.

“It has been a wonderful morning, I have a new brother!” she answered thrilled,, “I am on my way to speak with Queen Alicent, she has asked my mother to show her my brother but she is in so much pain yet I know if I explain to her grace the problem she will understand!” she answers.

Lord and Lady Caswell were speechless to hear the princess say those words, everyone with eyes could see the Queen's disdain toward Princess Rhaenyra and her kids. “ Oh I am sure,” he said hesitantly looking at his wife for assistance.

“I should be on my way my lord and lady,” Rhaella said feeling herself becoming impatient but not wanting to seem rude. “Have a pleasant day,” she said, curtsing and continuing on her way to Alicent's room.

As she approached the room her gaze wandered as always towards the beautiful details of this part of the castle, wondering if she would be able to go see Silverwing today, if today would be the day she could fly on her, as the princess was distracted she crashed into someone's leg. She yelped embarrassed and as she tumbled backward a pair of hands held her by the shoulders. 

“You should be more careful,” Cole scolded the princess, “Princess,” he added with disregard.

A flush spread through Rhaellas check embarrassed, ashamed, all the usual feelings Ser Criston Cole caused her.

Rhaella positioned her hands in front of her, trying hard not to bow her head, she knew she was the princess and had no business bowing or feeling less than anyone, especially Ser Criston Cole, why did her majesty keep such a serious and pouty man around her still was a mystery to her, “My apologies,” she replied muttering the apology with a curtsy, annoyed that she had to be nice to such man like him.

Rhaella felt uncomfortable under Cristons piercing gaze, she almost felt in danger, and her heart raced when he took a step towards her, looking up at his eyes, rhaella thought she saw hate in his face. 

“Is there a problem Ser Criston,” Ser Erryk announced placing himself between Criston and Rhaella, shielding her from his view. 

“No, not at all” he answered annoyed scowling at him. “ The lady was simply distracted and crashed with me, she could have been hurt”

“Thank the Gods, you were fast and helped the Princess,” Sir Erryk said making sure to emphasize the word Princess, shooting glares at Sir Criston. 

“That is what we are here for,” Criston answered, never looking away from Sir Erryk's eyes. “ I must go, I am late for training.”  he nodded and walked away without a single word to Rhaella. 

“Do you find yourself alright princess?” Ser Erryk asked concerned, looking over the little princess. 

“Yes Sir Erryk, I find myself alright,” She answered unaware of why he was so concerned, she had just lightly bumped with Sir Criston.

“Your parent sent me to look for you,” he said in an almost stern voice but Rhaella could see the small smile spread on his face.

“I only need to talk to the Queen and you can take me back to my parents,” she said, “ please!” she asked.

Ser Erryk sighed and shook his head but finally moved aside for Rhaella to keep her path towards the Queen. Once she was in front of the Queen's room, Ser Erryk announced her and she she entered. 

“Good morrow my Queen” Rhaella steps inside and crusties to Alicent, a small smile on her face. “I have wonderful news!” she exclaimed walking towards her.

“Rhaella” Alicent mutters with some displeasure that evades the child, “What a wonderful surprise, tho I am sure I had called for your mother to see the new babe.” 

“That is why I am here for, your grace, my mother is in so much pain, she can't even walk,” she said, getting upset and tears forming in her eyes. “I know you never meant to cause her harm, you are always so kind and thoughtful, I came to ask if you could come with me so we could see my brother together!” she exclaimed. 

The whole room went silent. No one dared to breathe.

“Pardon?” Alicent said perplexed, stunned at the audacity of the little bastard princess. She was the Queen if she commanded Rhaenyra to bring the babe she would have to do it, not send her pretentious little girl. 

“Your grace my mother is in so much pain and I know you are so understanding and kind, could you please come to see her?” she asked, pleaded to the queen. 

Alicent felt rage starting to bubble inside her. She hated this child. She hated Rhaenyra and she mostly hated how much Rhaella looked like her mother, the spitting image of young Rhaenyra but rather than her divine beautiful silver hair this child had brown locks that framed her face perfectly. Disgusting. 

She leaned down before the child, grabbed one of her curls, and smiled at her. “Of course, let us go.” 

Rhaenrya unable to contain her content hugged the Queen tightly and whispered a teary Thank you. 

Hug. The child was hugging her. 

Alicent froze, she couldn't remember the last time any of her children had hugged her out of their will and not because she wanted to keep up appearances, no nagging from her or a fierce look from him making them act lovable. 

She had hugged her with love. 

She closed her eyes and hugged the girl back. “Let us go Rhaella.” 

Rhaella backed away with a huge smile and held Queen Alicent’s hand. 

As they walked out Alicent could see the faces of Ser Erryk and her ladies-in-waiting, mouths wide open. “Shall we go Ser Erryk?” she asked bothered. 

“I'll be following closely your grace.” He bowed as the Queen and princess exited the room. 

“Tayla, please let the King know we are visiting Rhaenyra and the newborn babe.” Alicent requested as they made their way down the Red Keep

“It's a boy!” Rhaella interrupted excitedly, “I have a new brother!” 

“Tell the king we are visiting his new grandson,” Alicent said smiling down at Rhaella, maybe this kid was Rhaenyras saving grace, maybe this time she could make a difference and save this child from going the same path of sins her mother.

Tag list

@beebeechaos @void21 @menaosama @fiction-fanfic-reader

[poppitron360]

Raise your hand if you have a million bajillion works-in-progress!!!

Because I sure as hell do.

Anyway, I want to see which ones I should prioritise, so I’m doing a poll. Out of the 97 fic concepts i have in the vault, all with varying levels of completion, I have narrowed it down to 12 (the max number of poll options on Tumblr).

Please Vote!

Category 1- ANGST:

1. Ok not too many spoilers for this one but it’s SUPER angsty. All I can say is Leo faces a very creative punishment from Nemesis for cheating the prophecy and coming back to life, and it’s called “The only sad person in paradise” (undertones of Valgrace).

2. Leo deals with coping with the trauma of dying. LOT of angsty headcanons, including one where the design for the chb bead for the summer hoo is set in was the moment of Leo’s death. And he just has to keep that around his neck the whole time, and it’s chocking him. The opening line is “Every so often, Leo needed to remind himself that his heart was still beating.”

3. A curse befalls camp half-blood that’s slowly reversing the effects of their powers. Hecate cabin’s spells are being undone, plants are un-growing, arms healed by Apollo cabin are re-breaking. Magic is being unwound, and then Leo’s body starts to ache, and he realises… does that include a certain Physician’s Cure?

Category 2- VALGRACE

4. Platonic Valgrace (Romance implied)- “Never go to bed angry”- Leo and Jason have an argument on the Argo II. Jason thinks Leo won’t understand him because he’s never had to live up to the expectations of leadership that come with being a child soldier. Leo thinks Jason won’t understand him because he’s never had to fend for himself, he believes everything Jason has is because of who his father is. They storm off (Jason in the literal sense), argue with themselves for a bit- I did a really cool thing where I switch POVs every line or so, as their arguments parallel each other, like in a TV show where two characters are rehearsing a conversation with the other, but using the HOO multiple-POV thing- and then they go to sleep. They both have weird vision/flashbacks/prophetic dreams, where they experience a day in the other’s childhood. They then realise they completely misunderstood one another, and they’re not as different as they thought.

5. Jason and Leo go to New York pride. That’s the whole fic.

6. Instead of… whatever that ending to BOO was, the Gods reward Leo for his sacrifice by bringing Esperanza Valdez back to life. She thanks Jason for taking care of Leo while she was gone, and they have a heart-to-heart. They are officially boyfriends in this. Jason keeps being reminded of his own reunion with Thalia, and how Leo had stayed with him through that. He vows to do the same.

Category 3- MARRIED VALGRACE:

7. Leo and Jason get married (A classic “Wedding Episode”)

8. Just a fic describing married life with Leo and Jason- it’s called “Violets and Marigolds”

9. A fic from the POV of Leo and Jason’s kid, Isabella Valdez. Some angst, but I don’t have the full plot outlined yet. She’s adopted, and they don’t know her true godly heritage, and Leo suspects she might be mortal, and maybe Lupa made a mistake. Leo and Jason argue over whether she should join the Legion (They’re living in New Rome). Leo struggles with his fear of hurting the people he loves with his powers.

Category 4- MISCELLANEOUS:

10. Platonic Perleo- Percy and Leo get captured by government agents and have to escape Area 51 (Vaguely inspired by an episode of Helluva Boss)- VERY NERDY. This is a very fun one.

11. Leo talks to Hestia about… life, I guess. I started writing this while still on TLH and never found an ending, but it’s a good concept. Leo learns to accept his powers as something that can be good, when he only sees the bad. Hestia tells him “If fire was only about danger and destruction, then it would be the symbol of Ares, not Hephaestus.”

12. Thalia, Luke and Annabeth find little Leo while on the run. Leo and Annabeth bond over engineering. Luke tries to use Leo’s trauma as leverage to get Leo angry at the Gods. He tries to put the blame of Leo’s mom’s death on Hephaestus, since he’s responsible for giving Leo his powers. He points out how the Gods are all-powerful, and yet they leave the four of them- their own children- to starve on the streets. Leo in canon harbours a lot of resentment for his situation growing up, and Luke could easily spin that to justify his own anger.

Tagging people who might be interested:

@four-leafed-queer-gal @lavenderfairiez @child-of-helios @green-tea217 @puzzled-pegasus @imasimpdealwithit @123letsgobestie @ginnyluna @euryvices @ollieisanerd @sleepyycapybara @twomanyfandomshelp @lokiwiiiiiii @yoshuko-ew @keefessketchbook @frankzhang-appreciation-posts @hollow8007 @fairytalesociology @via-rant @daonedaonlyskh

If you have any suggestions for things to add to these fics- leave them in the comments. A lot of these I’ve struggled to flesh out/find endings for. Any help is much appreciated and you will be tagged in the fic if I use it.

Also, Lmk if you want to be tagged in any/all of these!