#her swords are also pretty heavy too

[delulujuls]

the other one | jacaerys velaryon

hi, here comes the 2.7k of i don't know what, really. its for sure intense, so fasten up your saddle and enjoy the ride. i enjoyed making aegon such a cutiepie in my two last shots, but this man is designed to be a menace to humanity so yeah, i believe im gonna lose it in the next shots. prepare for chaos.

summary: heart want what it wants, and y/n's heart belong to young prince from dragonstone, not to the future cruel king of westeros.

warnings: targaryen brothers being mean to velaryon boys AGAIN, aegon is such a meanie oh god, fighting, arguing, threatening with a sword, last scene is smelling a bit like a rap3, so feel free to skip it. your comfort is the most important

pairing: sister!targaryen reader x jacaerys velaryon (ft. jealous, possesive and dark!aegon targaryen)

Two young princes stood at the gates of the castle, awaiting guests. For several minutes they kept glancing at the sky, looking out for dragons. However, only the sound of wind and waves crashing against the rocks could be heard, with no indication that any winged beasts would soon appear before their eyes.

“Do you think they’ll come at all?” Lucerys asked his older brother, glancing at him. The cold wind chilled him to the bone, and the youngest of the Velaryons longed to return inside and sit by the fireplace.

Jacaerys did not get a chance to answer because shortly after, a muffled roar reached their ears, and something flickered in the low-hanging storm clouds. The heavy sky was pierced by the massive body of Vhagar, who was the first to emerge from the clouds and flew towards the beach. Close behind were Vermithor and Sunfyre, who looked dainty in comparison to those two giant dragons. Aemond, Y/N, and Aegon had arrived at Dragonstone.

Soon after, all four appeared at the castle gates. Helaena was flying with her older sister on Vermithor, choosing not to sail by ship with their mother, father, and grandfather. The youngest of the siblings still couldn't bring herself to travel alone on the back of her Dreamfyre, but felt confident with Y/N, now walking hand-in-hand with her sister towards the castle.

Lucerys took a step back, seeing Aemond and Aegon confidently striding towards them. The youngest Velaryon swallowed hard.

“I hope they don’t sit close to us,” he whispered, prompting his brother to discreetly nudge his arm.

Jacaerys smiled at the sight of the siblings. “Welcome, it’s good to see you here,” he said.

Aemond, leading the way, wore his characteristic grimace, nothing like the smile the young prince offered him. The last thing he felt like doing was feigning politeness. In silence, he merely glanced at them, bypassing them and pushing the heavy gate doors.

“My favorite, strong nephews,” Aegon said sarcastically, with a mocking smile. Passing by, he nudged Lucerys in the shoulder, who was about to turn and say something when his aunt’s voice reached his ears. Y/N smiled joyfully at the sight of Rhaenyra’s sons.

“Luke, Jace,” she extended her arms, hugging them both at once. Hearing the girl's joyful voice, Aegon glanced over his shoulder and rolled his eyes. He thought his sisters were too lenient with those bastards.

“It’s good to see you, Y/N,” Jacaerys smiled, embracing her and catching the smell of her lavender-scented hair. While he sincerely disliked Aemond and Aegon, he was very fond of their sisters. Helaena was shy and harmless, often speaking little and nodding more. Y/N, on the other hand, often reminded him of his mother, unafraid to speak up or defend her position. She was also wise and very pretty, and he was genuinely pleased to spend a few days in her presence.

“Are you coming, or are we going to freeze out here like a bunch of idiots?” Aegon asked sharply, seeing Y/N hold onto older Velaryon a bit too long. The young princess gave him an amused look, tousled Lucerys’ hair, and linked arms with Helaena. The four of them briskly walked towards the castle.

Rhaenyra was celebrating her thirty-second name day, so the entire family from King’s Landing had come to Dragonstone. Viserys wanted his daughter to celebrate her birthday in the capital, but she wished to spend the day her way. The ailing king, still battling illness, had no intention of arguing with his daughter, lacking the strength and health to do so. Even to the Targaryen seat, he chose to sail by ship rather than ride on the back of one of the dragons. After Balerion’s death, he had given up flying and now didn’t think about it at all.

During the evening feast, the dining hall filled with people. Despite it being Rhaenyra’s day, Viserys sat at the head of the table. To his left was his eldest daughter, beside her Daemon, Joffrey, Lucerys, Jacaerys, Rhaena, and Baela. On the king’s right sat his wife, next to her the Hand of the King, then Aemond, Aegon, Y/N, Helaena, and Rhaenys Targaryen, next to whom, at the other end of the table, sat Corlys Velaryon.

The feast went on in a calm and surprisingly pleasant atmosphere. Previous feasts often ended in arguments before they even really began. The main instigators of all disputes, Aemond and Aegon, sat quietly, not speaking much. Many might have thought someone stuffed hay into the dragons’ bellies to prevent them from breathing fire.

Aegon, however, increasingly clenched his hand around the wine goblet from time to time, hearing Y/N happily talking with Jacaerys across the table. His blood boiled hearing her so delighted with the conversation with him. He felt like slapping that fucking son of a bitch.

Helaena was also having a good time, shedding her shyness piece by piece with each sip of wine. She chatted lively with Rhaena and Baela, who were already slightly tipsy themselves. Rhaenys sent an amused look to her husband, who tightened his grip on the wine jug and pulled it closer. The Sea Snake had to be vigilant to prevent his granddaughters and the young Targaryen from getting too drunk. Helaena, however, had more to celebrate than just her half-sister’s birthday.

Since Viserys and Alicent’s daughters reached reproductive age, the Hand of the King and the Queen Mother began looking for potential suitors for them. While there was no trouble finding suitors for Y/N, who, besides her wealth and possessions, had a strong character and good disposition, finding a husband for Helaena was problematic.

From birth, the princess showed signs of abnormal development. Though she grew as a girl should, her mind seemed not to keep up, still trapping her in a world of childish dreams. Helaena was quiet, read a lot, and spent all her time in the garden, not burdened with unnecessary duties.

The Hand decided that when the time came, that is, when Aegon was to take the throne from the ailing king, he would marry Helaena, and Y/N would marry Forrest Frey. The plans were made at a Small Council meeting, which neither Helaena nor Y/N attended. Probably neither would have known about the plans to marry them off if Y/N hadn’t accidentally overheard their conversation when one of the doors unguarded by sentries was ajar.

“I don’t agree!” she said firmly, pushing the heavy doors and entering.

“Y/N, you can’t be here-,” Alicent stood up, wanting to calm her daughter, but she sharply pointed her finger upwards. “And you can’t do this to Helaena! I don’t agree!”

Aegon, who was one of the people at the table, also didn’t support the Council’s idea. However, he was too drunk to make any objections. Only his sister’s intrusion somewhat sobered him up. If he had to choose, he could marry Y/N since she wanted to fight so hard for Helaena’s better fate. Frankly, he didn’t care either way.

The guards first wanted to remove the young princess, but she began presenting her arguments. The Council didn’t think an eighteen-year-old’s arguments could make any sense, but many underestimated Y/N’s negotiation skills. In the castle, by Aegon’s side, she could be more useful than in the Riverlands beside Forrest Frey.

The Council decided that Helaena would marry Frey when the time came, and Y/N would marry Aegon. The young princess didn’t want Helaena to spend her life in the castle, locked in chambers and bearing children. She wanted her to break free from King’s Landing and experience a life different from the one she had lived so far. Y/N knew that unlike her sister, she could handle an incestuous marriage and an unwanted husband, who Aegon was to become in the future. Helaena might have been driven to suicide.

But for now, these were just tomorrow's problems, or who knows, maybe even further. Helaena, in a sudden burst of joy, stood up and climbed onto a chair, much to Alicent’s horror.

“To my beloved sister Y/N,” she said, swaying. Rhaenys held the chair to prevent her from falling. “And to my sister Rhaenyra, who celebrates her birthday today. I love you!”

Alicent, Otto, Aemond, and Aegon looked at her indulgently, raising their goblets. All the other guests eagerly toasted, applauding the young princess’s words. Rhaenyra stood up from the table and hugged her sister; Y/N also rose to do the same.

“Helaena needs rest,” Alicent whispered, gripping her daughter’s shoulder before she stood up. “Escort her to bed.”

Y/N shook off her hand and got up, embracing her sisters. However, when she felt Helaena’s heavy body in her arms, she held her close around the waist.

As soon as the sisters left the dining hall, Jacaerys, sent by his mother, joined them. Young prince apologized to Y/N and with a single, confident motion, picked up Helaena, who laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck. She kissed his cheek, admitting that she would let such a handsome man whisk her away without hesitation.

Jacaerys only let go of Helaena when he placed her on the bed in her bedroom.

"Will you stay with her until morning?" he asked as Y/N began removing the rings from her sister's fingers.

"Helaena usually sleeps like a mouse under a haystack, but after wine, she sleeps like a rock," Y/N replied, smiling slightly at the sight of her sister's flushed face. "Wait outside, I'll change her for bed and join you."

The young prince nodded obediently and left the chamber. He stood outside the door, straight as a string, feeling like a guard. Shortly after, the princess joined him, quietly closing the door behind her.

"She'll sleep like a baby until morning," she assured, laughing softly.

"It's nice to see her with a smile on her face," Jacerys admitted as they slowly began walking down the corridor. He quietly offered his arm to Y/N, which she gladly accepted.

"I've noticed she smiles much more when she's here. I feel like the capital is suffocating her."

Jacaerys lowered his gaze. He had recently learned about the marriage plans for the young sisters.

"I heard she'll leave King's Landing sooner or later," he said, glancing at her. He didn't know how delicate ground he was entering.

The young princess sighed and nodded. She spent the whole way telling Jacaerys about everything that had happened in the past weeks. In the company of the boy, Y/N didn't feel like his aunt, as their relationship would suggest, but like a friend. After all, they were only a year apart in age. They had always had a good relationship and, unlike her hostile brothers, Y/N really liked Jacaerys. She cherished every opportunity she could spend with him. This was one of those moments.

The pair didn't return to the feast; instead, they went to one of the terraces. They sat on one of the benches, and Y/N involuntarily rested her head on the boy's shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her waist, hugging her close.

"You deserve more, Y/N," he said quietly. "Both you and Helaena deserve more."

"I know I'll manage, I'm strong," she said, watching the remnants of the day dance on the horizon. "But I'm so scared for Helaena. She deserves the whole world, not what's waiting for her in King's Landing."

The young princess wasn't sad; at this moment, she could even say she felt a lightness in her heart. Jacaerys' body warmed her pleasantly, and the cool, salty air chased away the heat caused by the wine from her cheeks.

"You're the bravest dragon I've ever known," he said with a smile, looking at her face. The girl smiled at his words. "I don't know stronger people than Targaryen women."

"Do you really think so?" she asked quietly, looking into his eyes. She didn't know if his cheeks were flushed from the wine or the cold wind. Nevertheless, his dark eyes looked at her so gently that the young princess never wanted to look into any other eyes again.

Jacaerys smiled and nodded. He cautiously lifted his hand and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. He touched her cheek and gently stroked it with his thumb.

"I would take better care of you than they would, you know?" he said after a moment, his whisper lost in the whistle of the wind. Y/N heard his words clearly, just as she clearly heard the snort of disdain that came from somewhere to the side.

"I don't know which of you is more pathetic," Aegon said, looking at them with drunken eyes. He could barely stand, but his fists were clenched. Aemond remained silent, standing in the entrance and blocking it with his body. Unlike his brother, he didn't look drunk.

"What is your problem?" Y/N asked angrily, standing up. Unintentionally, she shielded Jacaerys with her body, who also rose from the bench.

"That you act like a complete whore," he spat through his teeth, causing Jacaerys to step around the girl to stand in her defense. She grabbed his hand and pulled him back when Aemond drew a dagger and stepped forward, defending his brother.

"Watch your words," Jacaerys said angrily. He didn't care that he was addressing the future king. In his eyes, Aegon wasn't worth anything, and he certainly didn't deserve to be Y/N's husband.

"Or what, bastard?" Aemond asked calmly, looking at him intently.

"We haven't done anything wrong," the young princess said sharply, though her voice trembled. She knew that her brothers were unlikely to hurt her, but she wasn't capable of protecting Jacaerys from both of them. She had only her hands, feet, and teeth at her disposal. "Get out of the way."

"Oh, really?" Aegon smiled. His drunken eyes were shiny from alcohol and dark-circled, his skin ashen. Even despite the fire of hatred burning in him, he didn't have a bit of a blush on his face. "I see a fucking dog clinging to my future wife."

"You wish she were your wife," Jacaerys said without thinking much about the words that left his mouth. Aegon lunged at him with his fists, to which the young Velaryon responded in kind. Aemond sheathed his dagger and grabbed Jacaerys by the shoulders, holding him and exposing him to Aegon's blows. In the commotion, the young princess managed to draw her brother's dagger and without hesitation, grabbed Aegon by the hair, pulling him back. With tears on her cheeks, she pressed the sword to his neck.

The four of them froze in place.

Aemond still held Jacaerys tightly, blood was trickling from his lip. Aegon's heart was pounding, not from fear but from adrenaline and, at that moment, also from excitement. His sister's small hand was firmly gripping his hair, forcing him to tilt his head back. Blood flowed from his broken nose, running down to his grinning lips.

"She's a dragon, see?" Aegon said, addressing Jacaerys. "You couldn't handle her, fool."

Y/N pushed her brother to the ground, releasing the dagger from her hands as well. She grabbed Jacaerys' hand and pulled him from Aemond's grasp, who would have lied if he said his sister's behavior didn't leave him speechless. In shock, he wasn't even able to oppose her.

"I'm so sorry," she began tearfully, pulling him away as far as possible from that place. "I should have killed them when I had the sword in my hand."

Jacaerys pulled her by the hand, causing her to turn around suddenly and fall into his arms. Without a word, he kissed her, feeling her salty tears mix with the blood from his split lip. Y/N returned the kiss but looked at him in shock. Jacaerys smiled warmly at her.

"Don't apologize to me," he whispered, cupping her cheeks in his hands. "You are a dragon, so be a dragon."

The pair didn't return to the feast. Instead, Y/N went with the young prince to his chambers. Jacaerys initially protested when she said she would help dress his wounds. Eventually, he agreed to her proposal, lying on the bed in just his trousers. The girl carefully cleaned his cuts, placing a cold compress on his abdomen. She sat beside him, looking at him tenderly.

"I'm so sorry, Jace," she whispered, squeezing his hand. The boy, however, seemed to be in a good mood.

"If every fight with them means I get to spend time with you, I'm ready to fight them every day."

The young princess smiled and shook her head at his words. She felt her heart swell when she was with him.

Their eager lips exchanged a few more kisses before Y/N quietly left his chamber, returning to her own. Helaena was still sleeping soundly, snoring softly. She lay on her side on her half of the bed, not even stirring when her sister began preparing for sleep. Dressed in a nightgown, she let her hair down and carefully combed it. She put the brush away and blew out the nearby candles, lying down on the bed.

As soon as she covered herself with the quilt, she felt someone sit on her, pressing her into the mattress, and a cold hand covered her mouth. The girl wanted to scream but felt a blade against her neck. The attacker leaned over her, his hair tickling her face. The young princess smelled alcohol.

"Every time you raise your hand against me," Aegon whispered, tightening his grip on the dagger's hilt, "I'll have one of your fingers cut off, understood?"

Y/N squeezed her eyes shut and nodded. For the first time in her life, Aegon truly frightened her. She felt her heart leap into her throat.

"And that fucking Velaryon dog," he moved his hand from her mouth to her hair, gripping it tightly. "I never want to see him near you again."

"Aegon-" she whispered with difficulty, clutching his wrist to push him away. She felt herself running out of breath, and the cold blade pressed deeper into her skin.

"Is that clear?" he growled, pressing her harder into the pillows.

"Yes," she said tearfully.

A moment later, she felt her brother's alcohol-tainted lips forcefully and brutally kissing hers. Aegon stood up shortly after and left the sisters' chamber, closing the door behind him. In the darkness, the young princess found her sister's body and hugged her from behind, trying to suppress her tears. She was terrified.

How much she wished she could hide in Jacaerys's arms at that moment.

[heartshapedmisery]

𝐚 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 | jon snow

summary ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ in which jon wanders too far north of the wall into free folk territory and is put under your supervision, mance rayder's daughter, after your voluntary offer of him staying in your tent. you never thought you would be willing to bunk with a crow, but of course, there's a first for everything.

warnings ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖  MINORS DNI ! ( 18+ ) | language, graphic smut, unprotected sex ( wrap it before u tap it y'all ), inexperienced!jon, reader taking jon's virginity, little bit of subby!jon, riding, handjob, mentions of blood ( reader bites jon's lip on accident whoops ), oral ( f! recieving ), jon having a praise k!nk, jon having literally no self-control, reader calling jon a crow about a thousand times lmao, minimal use of Y/N, lmk if i missed anything!

word count ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ 3k +

pairing ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ jon snow x fem!rayder!reader.

author’s note ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖  jon snow is so babygirl

honestly loved writing this, lmk what you think! also, should i make a part two with ygritte involved ?? wink wink

publishing date ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖  june 26th, 2023 | © HEARTSHAPEDMISERY

When you first saw the darkness of his furs sticking out so flamboyantly against the white of the northern snow, you knew Ygritte had struck gold on her hunt with the others.

You watched with a cautious but intrigued look on your face as she pulled him along behind her by a long rope tied around his hands, cradling a longsword in the crook of her arm with a wide smile on her face. But, the look on the crow's face seemed to be the total opposite.

Everything about him was dark, from his ratted furs to his hair that looked like it hadn't been given a good wash in ages, to even the disgruntled frown that didn't seem to leave his face until Ygritte finally untied him from his restraints. He was a crow, through and through.

You had seen plenty men of the Night's Watch before―even killed a few―but the one who stood before you as you made your way into your father's council tent was different. His eyes were a deep, darling brown, holding a youth that couldn't have been any older than your own. Most of the crows you had captured were all old and gray, not nearly as attractive and brooding as this one.

You didn't know there was such a thing.

"Where'd you find this one?" you whispered to Ygritte, your voice low enough for only her ears, your eyes raking over his figure that seemed disproportioned from the thick of the furs and leathers he wore.

"About a few miles north of the wall," she told you, watching him just as closely as you were. "He was just too pretty to pass up." The two of you shared a laugh as she handed you the young crow's sword, heavy and dull in its scabbard.

The Lord of Bones pushed him roughly towards the man sitting in the center of the tent, biting into a hunk of meat as if it were his last meal.

"I smell a crow," Tormund muffled with his mouth full, turning his head barely enough to get a good look at the young man. His scowl hadn't changed, if anything worsened since being shoved into the large tent.

His name had been Jon Snow, which he revealed to Tormund just before kneeling before him and muttering your grace. The entire tent seemed to bustle with laughter at the attempt of respect, you and Ygritte sending each other a knowing look as the crow's face reddened with embarrassment. Tormund may have looked and fought like one, but he was no king.

"Stand boy," a voice hidden in the back of the tent sounded, silencing everyone in the room within a matter of seconds. Your father, Mance Rayder, unveiled himself from the shadowy corner room behind Tormund, looking down upon Jon Snow as he stood.

Jon was quick to rise to his feet, looking up at him as the man stood taller than even Tormund. "We don't kneel for anyone beyond the wall."

Slowly, you moved towards your father from Ygritte's side, resting your hands on the hilt of the crow's sword as you allowed it to stand in front of you. Your father always valued your opinion when coming to decisions over the free folk, and this matter was no different.

Your eyes had hardened by now, catching Jon's gaze with a look that could only be interpreted as defensive. No matter how pretty you thought he was, he was still a man of the Night's watch. Your enemy infiltrating your land.

You watched him carefully as he went on to explain why he had left the Night's Watch, telling your father about the things he had seen in Craster's Keep.

"And why would that make you want to abandon your brothers?" Mance asked, his voice low and gravelly. His words seemed to intimidate the young man, his eyes flitting away from your father's before moving back to them hesitantly.

"Answer the question," you growled, leaning in towards him with a malice that couldn't help but send a chill down his spine. His eyes shot to yours, wondering why you were making such commands in the presence of Mance Rayder.

He explained how the Night's Watch did nothing to prevent Craster from giving up his newborn son to the white walkers, creatures that had been known to be gone for centuries.

"I want to fight for the side that fights for the living," he told your father, sparing you only a quick look as you stepped back to Mance's side. "Did I come to the right place?"

Mance mulled over the boy's words before looking down at you, the look on his face clear that he wanted your opinion. "What do you say, girl? Shall the baby crow stay?"

As you held his sword close to your chest, you stepped closer to Jon, your face inches from his as you gave him a good look over. He seemed nervous, his breathy shaky as it blew past his lips.

"I say he can," you paused, circling around him before meeting his gaze once more with a sly smrik on your lips. "But he stays with me."

He didn't speak much to you at first―or anyone really―only saying a few words when needed to and biting his tongue when you made some snide remark or called him a crow.

Since you had taken the responsibility of monitoring him, you practically stuck to Jon like glue until nightfall―as did many other girls in your camp, including Ygritte. She was an exception, but you had to keep running the rest of them off since their eagerness to catch a glimpse of him drove them to fights and quarrels in the snow.

Not to degrade any of the people in your camp, but men that looked like Jon Snow were not a common sight in free folk territory.

After showing him around the camp and getting him a new set of furs made of polar bear skin and boiled leather, you eventually gave him Longclaw back―which was what he called that heavy sword of his. He was grateful, but his disgruntled frown hardly left his face.

"Lose the frown, Jon Snow," you had told him as he joined you and Ygritte for dinner around the fire you had built near your tent. "You're not in the South anymore. There's no need to look so miserable."

When nightfall finally took the sky, you escorted Jon to your tent with a mischievous smirk on your face, earning looks from other wilding girls―most of them being of annoyance or jealousy. Their glares didn't go unnoticed by Jon, a look of confusion and concern evident on his face.

"Are they always like this?" he asked sheepishly, looking over his shoulder as the two of you stood still in front of the flaps of your tent.

You couldn't help but laugh, the scowls on their faces feral and sour as you led him into your tent.

"You're the first pretty crow they've seen in ages, Jon Snow," you told him with a grin. "They'll claw each other's eyes out to lay naked with you."

Your words seemed to surprise him, but he didn't say anything as a reddish tint rose in his cheeks. He had never been with a girl, he was too young before he joined The Watch, and his vows forbade him from lying with a woman. He had never gotten the chance, so the idea couldn't help but intrigue him.

"Your furs are over there," you pointed to the makeshift bed across from yours, "Though I know you'll be far much warmer over here with me."

He disregarded your comment, silent as he made his way over to his side of the tent and tried not to think too hard about laying with you.

It wasn't a large tent, your furs only a mere few feet from his. You still laid rather close despite being on separate sides.

Beginning to undo your outer layers and shedding them off, you were left in only a thin undershirt and pants that barely left anything to the imagination as you sat across from him.

Jon's eyes widened.

You could feel his eyes on you, his cheeks flushed at the sight of your hardened nipples poking through the fabric as you reached over to light a few candles between the two of you to brighten up the tent. He felt a sting of guilt run through his chest; he didn't want to betray his vows, or even think about betraying them, but you were making it very difficult for him to abstain on his side of the tent.

"What, have you never seen a woman's body before, crow?" you said playfully as you undid your hair from the braid it had been pulled back in all day, tousling it with your tired fingers to get ready for bed.

Jon only widened his eyes, gulping rather harshly as his lips parted, catching your eyes that seemed to be filled with nothing but seduction.

"What do you care?" he looked away, the tension too much for him to bare. His cheeks were flaming red at this point, embarrassment flaring in his chest. He could feel his hard-on begin to grow under his thick trousers, hoping to the Old Gods you couldn't see.

"Oh, right," you said sarcastically. "The Night's Watch will hack your hand off if you even think about touching a woman, is that right? Miserable bastards."

Jon tried to protest, his words caught dead in his mouth as you cut him off abruptly.

"Have you ever laid with a woman, Jon Snow?" you asked lowly, sitting up from your spot on your warm furs before slowly starting to crawl over to him, sultry laced thickly in your voice.

He shook his head, his eyes wide and blown out with lust. You were dangerously close to him, sitting down in front of him with your legs tucked neatly beneath you as you leaned in towards him.

"Do you want to?" you said slyly, your lips inches from his.

Your hand slowly reached out for his, grasping it gently before bringing it to your breast and allowing him to cup it. A shaky sigh blew past his plump lips, his gaze flitting down to your chest as he rubbed the pad of his thumb over your sensitive nipple gently.

The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could even think. Before he could remember the vow that he had made not long ago. Your sweet scent of firewood and pine was like truth serum to his senses. "More than anything."

His gentle, pleading words were enough for you to bring your lips to his, enveloping in the taste of him as you moved swiftly onto his lap, lips moving in sync hungrily as if he would be your last.

His arms tightened around your waist, pulling you flush against his hard chest. As you lowered your hips down onto his lap, you could feel him hard against your core, making you gasp in surprise.

You laughed gently under your breath in excitement as his eyes fluttered shut, not being able to help yourself as you began to slowly grind against him, earning a low and shaky whimper from his throat.

It was like music to your ears; his soft whimpers and pants. When you had been with other wildling men, they grunted and groaned as they worked their way in and out of you, almost animalistic. Jon was different.

"Do you like it when I do this?" You cooed in his ear. His moans were soft and desperate as he yearned for more of your touch, his hands gentle and needy as they grasped at your hips and worked you across his lap slowly.

He had no idea how much of an effect it had on you. How his exasperated pants made something foreign blossom in your chest and spread down to your lower half.

"Please," he begged as he pulled away from your lips, looking up at you with an adoration you had never seen from any free folk. You had him wrapped around your finger, drunk on your warm touch. Nothing could've riled you up more.

"You can have me however you want," you promised him, tucking a stray piece of hair behind his ear. Slowly, you pulled your undershirt off over your head before wriggling out of your thin pants, leaving your body bare and on display for him. "You're mine now, Jon Snow."

Your hand traveled down slowly between your bodies, running over the front of his trousers and cupping his hard-on, dancing your fingers across it tauntingly. "But first, let me help you with this."

Your fingers quickly worked at the ties at his trousers, pulling it open and helping him get rid of them before assisting him in removing his heavy furs and leathers and throwing them to the side, leaving him bare and warm beneath you, his pale, toned skin burning against your own.

Carefully, you sat back down on his lap, sitting at the edge of his knees so you could get a good look at him splayed out before you. Excitement buzzed in your chest at the sight of his reddened tip, leaking with precum practically begging to be touched.

With a soft look, your hand grasped his hardened cock gently, making him shudder at the sudden contact.

The feeling was foreign to him; Sure, he had used his own hand once or twice to relieve himself when he was feeling desperate, but his calloused and thick hands didn't compare to your small, soft, and experienced ones as you began to pump him gently.

"O-Oh," he sighed, his eyes fluttering shut as you rubbed him carefully, allowing your forehead to press gently to his. You could feel his soft, warm pants fanning against your face, gentle moans falling from his lips every so often.

"You're so good for me," you whispered to him, your thumb running over the slit at the head of his cock, earning a shaky gasp from him. Your lips peppered kisses against his, before moving slowly to his cheeks and working your way down his jaw tauntingly.

The feeling of your lips leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses along the skin of his neck and collarbone made him ecstatic. He didn't know what he had done to earn such a heavenly gift from the gods, but he knew he never wanted this to end. He never wanted to be without your touch.

"F-Fuck," he whined, entranced by the look of desire in your eyes as you rubbed him.

His toned stomach contracted gently, his abs tensing as he inched closer and closer to his release. His moans became more guttural, incoherent mumbles to the sound of your name filling your ears.

"I'm g-gonna-" he warned, his eyes fluttering shut. But, before he could finish his sentence, hot, white spurts of his release shot onto his stomach, painting him sinfully as a shaky groan rumbled in his chest in response. It lit something inside you, the way he trembled beneath your touch and moaned your name as if it were a prayer. You could drown in it.

Carefully, you reached for the undershirt you had thrown off and wiped his stomach clean, not caring you had dirtied it and would have to wash it by hand on the morrow.

A calm silence fell between you, allowing his forehead to fall to the crook of your neck as his hands snaked around your waist, pulling your chest flush against his. Your warmth was something he wanted to live in forever. He never wanted to leave this tent.

"You're so-" he mumbled against your skin, his breath faltering as he tried to find the right words. "You're so good at that."

You couldn't help but blush. The way he worshipped you made you ecstatic, your hands raking through his dark curls as you tilted his head up to look at you.

"Can I kiss you?" he rasped. His eyes were full of want, his eyebrows pulling together slightly as he pawed at the flesh of your thigh. Carefully, you moved to bring your lips to his with a wide grin but he stopped you, pulling his head to the side tauntingly.

He shook his head gently. "Not there."

You didn't understand what he meant. Kiss you where?

Cautiously, he pulled you off of his lap and laid you down on the soft furs, his body hovering over yours as he slotted himself in between your legs.

He began to make his way down your body with gentle kisses, nipping at your supple skin as he trailed from the crook of your neck to all the way down between your plush thighs, leaving little love bites in the wake of his mouth as he inched dangerously close to where you needed him most.

"Getting brave, aren't we?" you taunt, his hands moving to tuck your legs onto his shoulders before he gripped your hips with both of his hands firmly, holding you in place as you could feel his warm breath fanning against your glistening core.

He ignored your snide remark, wasting no time before licking a clean stripe against your cunt and beginning to work away at you, his eyes fluttering shut at the sound of your euphoric moans.

Your face contorted with pleasure as you felt his lips wrap around your clit, gently sucking at it, before cautiously bringing his middle and ring fingers to your core and allowing them to curl in an upward motion blissfully.

You had never felt anything like this before. The way his tongue moved against your folds made you ecstatic, wondering what they put in the southern water to make him so good at what he was doing.

"J-Jon," you gasped, your fingers combing through his dark locks and giving them a good tug, earning a moan from him as it vibrated against your core and only pushed you closer to your high. Your thighs clenched around his head in an attempt to pull him closer to you, the tip of his nose brushing up against your clit just enough to make you jolt with a shaky gasp.

He enticed moans out of you like never before, licking and sucking at your core in ways you didn't even know were possible. He seemed so skilled for claiming to have never touched a woman before. Could he have been lying to you?

Your eyes practically rolled to the back of your head as you saw his hips begin to grind slowly against the furs as he lapped away at your core, his cock hard once more from the sweet taste of you. Moans grumbled in his chest as he squeezed your thighs tighter, his fingers sure to leave bruises on your supple skin.

The abrupt feeling of his fingers pulling out of your core made you whine. But his tongue entering you was enough to make you see stars, your back arching up off the soft furs as you could feel the tight coil in your stomach begin to snap.

Your wanton moans filled his ears, loud enough to be heard by the rest of the camp, but you didn't care. Your only concern was him and your climax—which wasn't far off.

"Gods!" your heel dug into the middle of his muscular back as you gripped the furs at your side, your orgasm washing over you unlike ever before. Your thighs trembled gently around Jon's head, his mouth pulling away from your core, his chin glistening with your release as he watched you with a lazy smile while you writhed in pleasure before him.

He pulled himself up so he was hovering over you once more, his face a mere few inches from yours as your chest heaved up and down, coming down from your high. Your eyelids felt heavy as he gripped your hip, and the sheer look of lust in his eyes made your lips crash against his hungrily.

You could taste your release on his lips as his tongue slipped into your mouth, not even thinking before wrapping your legs around his waist and flipping him over on the furs, now sitting on his lap as he laid breathlessly beneath you.

You smiled at the way he looked up at you with want, his hands playing with the flesh of your ass impatiently. His hardened cock beneath your wet core made it hard for you to concentrate, but you still managed to roll your hips against his tauntingly.

"Just lay there, sweet. Let me give you what you want," you rasped, your hands splayed flat on his chest as your teasing became nearly unbearable for him.

"Please," he pleaded. "I need to feel you."

Slowly, you brought your hand to grasp him gently, giving him a few pumps before guiding him towards your entrance as you hovered over him, your eyes not leaving his as you sank down onto him.

Relieved moans left your mouths in unison, your cunt stretching around him sweeter than he could imagine. Your warmth made his heart flutter, his hands gripping your hips firmly as he waited for you to move.

Soft whimpers filled the space between you as your hips slowly began to roll across his lap, your nails raking down the front of his toned chest as you fell into a steady pace. His mind was fogged with the sheer sight of you on top of him, finding the gentle bounce of your breasts with every movement entrancing.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he breathed, his head falling back as he screwed his eyes shut, which couldn't help but send a wave of pleasure straight to your core. You couldn't help yourself when your fingers trailed to your clit and began to rub the sensitive bundle of nerves back and forth, clenching around his length with each roll of your hips.

"Gods," he cursed, sitting up from his spot on the soft furs as you still guided your hips back and forth on his cock.

Your arm automatically slung around his broad shoulders as his own pulled you closer to him by your waist while he propped himself up with his free hand, allowing him to thrust up inside of you and reach deeper than before.

The way the tip of his cock just barely brushed your cervix enraptured you. You were finding it very hard to believe that he had never done this before.

"Right there," you panted out, gripping his bare shoulder so hard your fingernails were sure to leave tiny crescent indents in his skin. His pace quickened, slowly becoming more desperate and sloppy as your moans grew with it. You were sure the entire camp could've heard the lot of you by now.

His lips met yours in an instant, a poor attempt on Jon's part at silencing you as best he could. You allowed his tongue to roam your mouth, your fingers collecting at the nape of his neck to hold him closer to you. But to his surprise―with a sudden thrust of his hips―your teeth caught his bottom lip with a moan.

"Ahh," he hissed, the metallic taste of blood collecting at the front of his mouth. He pulled back, panting heavily as the look of lust didn't leave his eyes. Your lips were reddened and wet, and the way your tongue poked out barely to wipe them clean made a low groan rumble in his chest.

Within an instant, he smashed his lips back onto yours, pushing you back so you were laying flat on the furs now with his hips between your legs, his length still inside of you as he wasted no time to begin a steady pace pistoning in and out of you messily.

"Jon!" you moaned, his cock stretching you perfectly with each thrust. His lips attacked at the supple skin of your neck, peppering little love bites trailing down over your collarbone. You could feel him wince between moans against your skin as your nails dug into his back uncontrollably, leaving long, reddened welts along his pale skin.

Your fingers trailed slowly up to his hair, giving it a good tug as you brought his lips to yours. Your movements earned a low grumble in the back of his throat in response, his hips beginning to stutter as he could feel his climax rising.

You weren't far off either, with his sweet, incandescent moans that made the coil in your stomach tighten filling your ears. "Are you gonna come for me, baby?"

A guttural moan ripped through Jon's throat at your soft whispers, unable to form words as he nodded his head breathlessly. You could feel his cock twitch inside of you, his last few thrusts hard and deep before pulling out of you—just enough to send you over the edge of your high.

You swiftly propped yourself up on your elbows, breathless from your climax as he pumped his shaft a few times before releasing himself all over your stomach and chest. His face contorted with pleasure as you watched him with amazement, a sly smirk creeping on your face as he came hard.

A gentle silence fell between the two of you as he caught his breath, moving to lay next to you on the soft furs and wrapping his arm around your waist before pulling you close to his side. His warmth burned against your cheek as you laid your head on his chest, running your fingers lazily across his skin.

"You were right," he whispered against your hair, pressing a kiss to your head as you snuggled your face into the crook of his neck. You smiled against his skin, "How so?"

You lifted your head up, meeting his darling brown eyes as a small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

"I'm far much warmer with you."

[thistlerock]

Thinking about the bad kids in a more classic adventuring party context. The only time we really see the them out adventuring for a prolonged amount of time and camping and stuff is sophomore year, but I'd assume they get other slightly less fate of the world deciding assignments like that? Also they're probably out camping with the hangvan during the night yorb stuff.

If they have to camp somewhere potentially dangerous (which is. Anywhere you'd have to camp at.) obviously Adaine keeps watch at night because she only has to trance for four hours. Elf takes the night watch this is like adventuring 101. But Riz for sure does the other half so she can really rest during her trance. Should Riz sleep more than four hours? For sure. Does he? No. His body is so used to it that four hours is a perfectly functional long rest. Only slightly concerning. I think it always goes Riz stays up super late (and is maybe working out clues and stuff while the others are resting and he's keeping watch) and then Adaine gets her four hours in and "gets up" early. Riz is Riz so he only sleeps next to or on her so that if something is wrong he gets woken up as quickly as possible.

Also they all sleep with their weapons/spell casting focuses close by. (Riz and Adaine do this at home too which is slightly overkill but Adaine does have every anxiety disorder and Riz probably. Either has anxiety or ocd or both so that's. Fair.) Kristen fully hugs her staff (and the teddy!) in her sleep. The heavy metal axe or the infaethable bass are clunky and big but Gorgug and Fig at least sleep as close to them as possible. Could reach over and grab them type deal. Adaine just keeps the sword of sight on her since she can trance sitting so it's not a bother or anything. The sword of shadows DOES bother Riz sleeping but he still keeps it on him. His arquebus is directly under whatever padding he's using to sleep so it's hidden and he can pull it out. Fabian obviously keeps Fandrangor close by but he fully never stops physically touching his battle sheet. Mechanically I'm pretty sure it acts as both his spell casting focus and the shield for his protection fighting style so I like to think he drapes it over whatever friend is closest to him along with himself. Keeping his friends safe :) (also warm. I think it's always warm even though it's thin because of the fire elemental)

Oh also also. The Hangman. In motor cycle form it's pretty straight forward but if he's in hellhound form because they're traversing a forest or something and being a motorcycle is just. So inconvenient. (Which also means they couldn't have possibly travelled with or slept in the hangvan) He curls up around Fabian (and again whoever is closest) because big dog protect. Also sometimes his snout is in Fabian's lap because I'm obsessed with him just being a big dog okay. He's so cute.

Actually it makes a lot of sense to me if either Gorgug or Fabian is sleeping close to whoever is keeping watch because they're obviously the more tanky party members and the ones keeping watch are the wizard and the rogue. Also they're both on the outside (with, if possible the hangvan and also the hangman covering them on either side if that makes sense?) while their full casters and rogue are in the middle. I know Fig has Paladin levels and good AC post junior year (and would probably still like to adventure with them even without being a student) but she still operates on bard hit points and also old habits die hard so she's gotta be in the protection cluster. Also she likes cuddling with her friends let her cuddle with her friends in the cluster.

(Side Note. At lower levels being the damage sponge is absolutely a barbarian's job but at higher levels where a lot of enemies do the types of damage non bear totem barbarians don't halve they get slightly less effective at it ((though they still have much more hit points than any of their other party members so they're certainly still good at it)) and are often the most effective just for damage output. So as they get older I'd almost say Fabian has more comfortably slotted himself into the protector role ((will never get over his goading attack defensive flourish thing it's so. Nice from a character standpoint. Doesn't try to be his father anymore but he feels strong and right when protecting his friends, still so eccentric.)) while Gorgug is the more forward aggressor? ((Especially with his smites or when he's hasted!! Which is also so cool from a character standpoint. Settled into artificing and more in touch with his own rage.)) But hey still both front liners and mostly interchangeable in that regard. Both WILL be Adaine's meat shield if she needs it.) But yeah just decided that Fabian sleeps closer to Adaine and Riz while Kristen and Fig are halfway on top of Gorgug. They're all in a cluster anyway but. Yeah.

Also I just like thinking about how to a certain extend characters of Spyre are aware of game mechanics. Like Brennan said they're actually studying how to be their individual classes. They probably don't "roll" in their heads or think of their stats as numbers or anything but good strategising like they did in the last stand or the battle with Porter and the Rat grinders is in universe the characters applying knowledge that they've partially acquired through experience but also just. Literally go to school for. They go to school for adventuring. I imagine nerds like Riz or Fabian who's a battlemaster are especially aware of party composition, positioning in battle etc but like all of them have to be. So yeah that's cool. Spellcasters probably get told specific conditions for common problems like counterspell even if they can't learn it so they can stay out of range of it, stuff like that.

[hornedstorys]

Gladiator - Commodus x Reader - Birth

Warnings: Actually mostly childbirth and what goes with it, light angst

Content: You are pregnant with Commodus' child and are in labor. Of course, you want nothing more than to have your husband with you.

I have no idea whether the man was allowed to be present at the birth back in Rome. I haven't found anything about it, so let's just pretend that he was

You struggled to get up and the next moment you were sitting upright in bed. You breathed in and out deeply as you heaved up the extra weight of your baby bump. You gently stroked the bump, a soft smile on your lips.

It wouldn't be long before your child would finally see the light of day. You had to admit to yourself that you were scared. Afraid of whether you would be a good mother at all, afraid of the pain and, above all, afraid of being alone while you brought the child into the world. It was not usual for the husband to be present at the birth. But you knew you wouldn't be able to cope without Commodus.

Your husband was at a council meeting while you were supposed to be resting. Since you were pregnant, Commodus has been even more protective of you. He had always kept an eye on you before that and never let you out of his sight. He wanted to protect you so much and keep you and your child safe. A soft smile played around your lips again and you sighed. He gave you so much security and warmth that it became your addiction. He became your addiction. But who wouldn't fall for those shining eyes?

But the pregnancy gnawed at you. Some days, you felt like the greatest empress who had ever lived as you walked through the palace. With your head held high and your belly proudly displayed, swelling more and more with each passing day. And on other days? On other days you had felt so vulnerable. Your legs and feet hurt, everything was swollen and even your favorite clothes no longer fit you.

You have often looked at yourself in the mirror and looked at your pregnant body. By now you haven't even seen your own feet. It left a bitter taste on your tongue, but when your eyes fell on your big belly, you were overcome with pure joy.

You were looking forward to your child and Commodus in particular seemed as impatient as a child. Every night he stroked your belly with soothing circles of his hand. He whispered to your child again and again. How pretty his wife looked, swollen with his child. How beautiful her eyes shone and how much he was looking forward to him or her. Your gaze wandered through your room. It was time to stretch your legs.

You sat far too often because you simply didn't have the stamina to stand. The additional pain in your back and legs was also just annoying. You also missed your husband. You wanted to see him, feel his soft lips on your skin and be close to him.

So you got up as quickly as you could and strolled through the corridors. Your breathing was heavy and after just a few minutes, you were out of breath. You gently stroked your tummy.

"You're making mommy sweat a lot, little one," you sighed with a giggle and suddenly felt a slight thrill. The child seemed to agree with you, or not. Depending on how you want to look at it.

Humming and heaving, you had almost reached the large, ornate door behind which your husband was located. The council meeting would soon be over and perhaps you could sit down in the meantime. You could clearly feel your ankles aching again.

You were about to turn to look for a place to sit when a pain shot through you. A gasp escaped your lips and you put your hand on your stomach. A few seconds later, you noticed a liquid running down your legs. A pain-filled gasp escaped from your mouth. Maids near you had noticed the scenario and immediately rushed to your side.

But your cries of pain reached someone else. Despite the thick door, Commodus had heard your wails. He immediately jumped up, drew his sword and ran to the door. He ignored the absent men in the room.

"What happened?", he shouted, his green eyes flashing with concern as he saw you being supported by the maids and slaves. Beneath you, the puddle of amniotic fluid.

"She's having her baby, Caesar," a maid told us and Commodus' eyes widened. He was not prepared for this. He dropped his sword and quickly approached you.Your gaze caught his and you could feel yourself relax immediately. But the next wave of pain was not long in coming. You latched onto his shoulder and he held you before your legs gave way.

He held you tightly in his arms. His eyes clouded with anxiety and worry. He immediately sent for a midwife and her time helpers.Exhausted, you lay on your bed and felt one contraction after another. You had strictly refused to sit on the birthing chair. The familiar feel of your bed was more relaxing than the cold wood against your trembling thighs.

But the anxiety wouldn't go away. While the midwife and two other women tried to calm you down, you didn't want to stop getting upset. Commodus was waiting for you outside the door because the midwife wouldn't let him in. She was a stoic old woman and wasn't even afraid of the emperor himself when she slammed the door in his face, making him tremble.

As much as he wanted to kill her, he couldn't do it. Only because she was the only midwife present on the spot. You claw at the layers of the bed and bite your lips, groaning.

"Commodus!... Where is my husband?" you scream, looking longingly at the door.

"My lady, your husband is not allowed to be present at the birth," the old woman explained stoically as she wiped the sweat from your brow. But your patience snapped.Out of nowhere, you grabbed her by the collar and pulled her towards you. Your face contorted in anger and pain.

"If you don't get my husband right now, I'll have you quartered myself!"One of the women gulped audibly and the midwife's eye twitched critically for a moment before she nodded and gave in.

Only seconds after your husband heard your outburst, he stormed through the door. You sighed with relief as you caught sight of his face and the next moment he was at your side. You reached for his hand and he immediately held it out to you.Encouragingly, he pressed his lips to your sweaty forehead.

"I'm here, my love." You closed your eyes and breathed in and out deeply as you felt his voice against your ear. Your head tilted and you looked deep into his green eyes.

"I'm scared," you breathed and Commodus' usually hard face softened.

"You can do it, I know you can. You will bring our child into the world, my empress and be the most beautiful and wonderful mother I can imagine for my children!" These words melted your heart, but you screamed as a contraction ripped through your body. The midwife sat between your legs and told you to push.

Commodus tried to hide his unease to give you support. But your pain hurt him too. Suddenly he straightened up. The loss of his warm hand on your skin made you whimper. He began to take off his hard armor and the next moment, he climbed onto the bed behind you. What was he going to do?

He sat down right behind you and gently placed his hands on your shoulders and pressed you against his chest. You were finally able to let yourself go. A feeling of security came over you.

"My Empress, you must continue to push now," the midwife spoke intently and you swallowed hard. Your hair was wet with sweat and you were overcome with fear again. Reflexively, you grabbed Commodus' forearms. His hands lay reassuringly on your still swollen belly. You squeezed his flesh to death, but he didn't mind. He had already experienced more pain. His lips found the skin of your cheek again and caressed it as you squeezed.

"You're doing great, y/n," he praised you and you leaned against his cheek. His caresses did you good and you pressed on.

"I can already see the mop of hair!" You heard the old midwife say, but you were too distracted by the pushing and the smell of your husband that you barely noticed. Until...

A scream echoed through the room and made you falter. You felt Commodus move slightly behind you to get a better look over your shoulder. The midwife placed your crying baby on your chest and you sobbed enthusiastically.

"It's a girl," the midwife said and your smile widened. You had always hoped it would be a girl. Simply because, in your eyes, Commodus would be the perfect father for a girl.

When you finally had some peace and quiet and could finally catch your breath, you were still lying in your husband's lap. Commodus never left your side and looked down with so much love at the little bundle sleeping so peacefully on your chest.

"She's perfect," he breathed and you pressed yourself tighter against him and smiled. Your gaze searched his. When you looked into his green eyes, all you could see was love. Love that he only showed you because you are his everything, his Rome, his empire.

"I heard what you said to that old goat earlier," he began to grin broadly, something dangerous sparkling in his eyes, but not for you. "This cynical side of you, I don't know it at all. I have to admit, I liked it," he grinned, grabbed your chin and pressed a kiss to your lips.

Then he gently stroked your daughter's head. His eyes softened again and he looked from the little bundle to you.

"I'm so proud of you."

[artbysconnor]

The DnD party from Wildlife SMP in Episode 1! I just couldn't help trying my hand at these designs, since it combines two of my favorite things currently (Dungeons and Dragons and the Life Series) . Lizzie - Goliath Champion Fighter

BigB - Halfling Circle of Dreams Druid

Ren - Fairy College of Lore Bard

Jimmy - Half-Elf Oath of Redemption (Or Oath of Glory?) Paladin

See below for design notes!

Lizzie:

I knew Lizzie would be a Goliath, and was torn between giving her a martial class or making her a War Cleric. In the end, party composition won out, and she ended up a Champion Fighter, but I kept the half skirt design from her cleric thumbnails and gave her a big ol' mace. Given her pink hair is so iconic I didn't want to go full bald, so I made her hair long along the scalp and tied into two buns and a ponytail (not realistic, but it works in the drawing so I'm sticking with it!). I tried to put butterfly wings in her tattoos by her eyes, and added some flowers to further the fairy vibes on her armor and bring in the light blues from her skin as well.

BigB:

I probably was the least sure about what race and class I wanted to go with for BigB. He fluctuated between a Twilight Cleric and a Druid, and between Gnome, Dwarf, and Halfling. I ended up going with a Halfling to match his easygoing attitude, and leaned into his association with the Pale Garden as perhaps a caretaker and watchful hand over the Fey-like landscape as a Dream Druid. I knew I wanted his staff to reflect that by containing a creaking heart, but I also made his armor woven bark from the exteriors of the black and white trees, with flickers of the orange creaking magic within it, and kept his palette somewhat subdued and faded compared to his more saturated normal palette.

Ren:

Our bard Ren is probably the least detailed here on account of scale, but I put just the same amount of thought into his clothes, too! I wanted to work in little details that make use of materials that would be big for his small racial size as a fairy, such as a button for a poleyn, sewing pins for tuning pegs on his lute, and oversized ribbon ties on his costume. The main costume (a doublet and flouncy pants) is inspired by flashy, slashed Renaissance fashions - I think they suit a bard with a bragadocious energy like Ren. I added a tiny 'wolf pelt' as a cape that was probably a rat or perhaps an ermine, and his sunglasses are cut and polished crystal.

Jimmy:

Jimmy, our normal-sized normal man, was always a paladin in my mind. I wanted to put him in predominantly pretty heavy plate armor, almost like he's trying to protect himself at all costs, and pull in references to canaries and birds with the wing motif and feathered plume on the helmet and cloak clasp (and sword, which is now hidden behind BigB). The gold linear details both reinforce the pieces and provide a flash of yellow in his design to balance the cool blues and silvers, and his unpictured shield in my mind has the image of a great golden bird being pierced through the heart by an arrow or spear of some sort - a tragic house crest that Jimmy seeks to bring to glory.

[jellitchi]

vat7k designs in my head...

i thought their canon designs were a eensy weensy bit Unpolished so i made these mostly for myself. erm if u rly want it i think varian is 19 here, hugo 19, nuru 18, yong 12.

i also made rhem all playlists and had to draw them a cover so thats what the last img is I linked each of em under my notes for all of em... Under the cut is Like a Huge Infodump of notes i have for each chara,,,,,,

i kept varians design basically the same, i dislike the design w the orange neck thing so i just Nuked it😭... Here's Varians playlist

Hugos design i just wanted to put him in something more Loose. hes a thief, a professional escape artist. i dont think wearing clunky metal is ideal for him. i also gave him a prosthetic arm (blond w no arm design trope!) but u cant see it in the ref so i added another drawing of him in his under layering👍 i vaguely referenced russian(?) clothes for him as well... Yeah not too much changed w him i just tried to make him slippery-er. Here's Hugo's playlist

yong came relatively easy to me, if it wasn't obvious i did rip gaming from g*nshin's hoodie. i thought the lion hood was Adorable and freaking perfect for what i had in mind for hos character. since the og notes said the fire kingdom is loosely Chinese inspired i basically just kept that. i mashed tgt a buncha diff dynasties though sorry for how inconsistent i was... i think he looks Okay. anyways i changed yongs role a bit, ill explain why im adjusting some of their roles later but i kept yong as the Jinx Type character. hes the eldest in his family and has a buncha younger siblings, hes a lion dancer and does performances w his family/siblings. he rly like special effects n keeps tryna incorporate his fireworks into their performances (it flops and he has to sew up the dmg) ill explain more of yongs role in another post maybe shrugs... Here's Yong's Playlist

miss nuru was a bit of a struggle for me i might share my full design process with her coz i did a Bunch of mockups for her😭😭😭... i didnt have a specific country of reference for her but i chose to make her vaguely south asian inspired. i also really wanted to keep the sheer fabric w the star / constellation map. i love that idea its so cute so shes still technically the navigator. but she also wields a sword too, fencing or whatever. (her and varian r Huge Cass fangirls which is probably why she started tryna use a sword (snuck out to watch cass compete) Okay ill talk abt this later) in my head, okay ill Probably make a whole nother post talking abt how im interpreting/writing each chara, but in my head i think nuru is the youngest and her kingdom's archivist. shes mostly in charge of like Her kingdoms history / artifacts / etc. ok im getting too side tracked ill save the lore dump for later but thats Nurus role in the party. Here's Nuru's Playlist

uhm below i made their character stats mostly to help me with planning / role developing. the yellow is their base stats the color behind is their end stats i guess. i was gonna explain my reasoning for their stats but ermm this post is kinda Really long so sorry😭... varian max int for obvious reasons, also max charisma just coz i feel like u kinda learn a thing or two being around a couple manipulators and spending time in jail idk shrugs... (also lets not forget the "ud b surprised what ppl would do for a cookie!") Hugo slippery guy, if a brick is thrown at him as hes running hes gonna try n run faster to shatter it, his mindset is Run Run Run! i think hes relatively agile too but yeah mostly a Speedster. i think he n varian got no Physical strength varian maybe just like A little coz Farm boy but I rly doubt quirin is making him do a Lotta heavy lifting. yong has incredible stamina and agility because hed a performer. nuru is the strongest coz this team would literally Flop without a proper Offense😭... i think varian n hugo r able to outwit plenty of their opponents but i think nuru is pretty good in a fight, same w yong. Yeah Okay Sorry for a Long Long Post thanks hope u guys enjoy

[sc4llywag]

Since I got Tumblr and have free range to rant however I want, its time for the Assassin's Creed main characters and how they walk post!!!

With each of the games, they change the main characters walking animation to fit their vibe and I need to be able to study them beheehe

Desmond

I don't have too much to say about Desmond's other than his is simple and similar to Ezio's and Altaïr's and I like to think that this is due to the bleeding effect(it happened to me too I walk like the assassin's all the time) his is a little more confined and he keeps his arms closer to himself so he's very typical in the way he walks

Altaïr

In his walk he has a sway to his hips and steady hands(probably to keep himself ready for any assassination), but goddamn the SWAY I never noticed it.

His shoulders also sway with his walk and I love how fluid he is in general, this ties back to his robes for me and how flowy they are to show the grace of an assassin in high profile but when low profile they stay to his sides and he's all in the shadows and I REALLY love that about him.

Ezio

This gif is all I could find so i can't really remember if Ezio's walk is different in Ac2 from Altaïr's because ubisoft is the king of recycling things but whatever. He still has the outward stance but I do notice his head is pointed low to try and keep himself hidden(shadows shit be like) but ofc hes holding the apple here so it's hard to tell if he's trying to swing his arm a lot lol, anyway body language is important to Ezio so hes very good at looking broody as well as fluid in his movements

Connor

(Walk Cycle Research | PKlover4078)

My man my man my man my man😍‼️‼️

The way Connor walks with his hands stretched out and then clenching his fists every moment because he's always ready for a fight goddamn this MF could take me in an alleyway and I'd be happy. I'd like to note with this gif, it doesn't show his slow slow walk and I remember it pretty well, he has a slight cautious aura in his walk, he's really careful in his foot placement(I think) and he's super awesome and I love him a lot. Since we have him running I'd like to talk about that too. He has such an efficient sprint it's so mesmerizing, he keeps his head low and just fuckin vrooms across the colonies<3

Aveline

You can barely see her here bc the damn community doesn't care for Aveline much but I like her even tho I haven't played Liberation, I enjoy the way she walks in a proper manner and she's got that strut the runway strut is everything. I also like how she has a wider swing in her arms, more carefree and comfortable.

Edward

This is such a great quality gif thanks so much Ac fandom!!

Anyway, I really love the difference in Edwards walk compared to the rest of the assassins because he's a pirate, he hasn't had the teaching of grace and secrecy. Therefore his walk is staggering in his footwork but still proper bc he's a sword fighter and very good at it. In a longer gif you'd be able to tell but his footing is a little messy, showing that drunken sailor pirate personality shows in his walk. He has a close arm swing due to him always needing to be close to his weapons, ready for a fight(like his grandson<3)

Haytham

I can barely see how he's walking but I'm pretty sure he had his hand on his sword hilt which says so much abt his character, again always being ready for a fight. He has a very straight posture due to his pompous nature, quick in his form to be efficient because why walk if you don't look proper and efficient?

Shay

Ok he's a Templar and so is Haytham but fuck you I love them.

His walk is so GOOD his walk has a heavy step and he's very prominent, got that straight posture again, not much to say about his arm sway other than the added shoulder sway, love that for him bc he's just so intimidating.

(For reasons I'm not doing Arno, Evie, Jacob, Kassandra, and Eivor since I haven't played their games)

Bayek

Bayek's walk is very different from every other assassin and that makes me love him so much more. He feels very carefree and relaxed but when in combat good lord does he go off!! He puts more sway in his arms than his hips and that's probably why he has a combat centered walk, like Edward.

If you've reached the end thank you for reading my rambling ass get over excited over walk cycle animations :) follow for more rambling!!

[spudangle]

Companion Bed/Sleeping Preferences

Lae'zel. Brought up as a warrior she definitely prefers practicality over comfort. Big luxurious soft beds are not for her, they’re too much of a hassle to get in and out of, not proficient at all. But if she has to, then she can pretty much sleep anywhere, be it while lying down, sitting, or standing. If she were to choose, she would probably prefer a hard surface over a soft one, so that her back feels nice and straight in the morning. She’s probably the companion who goes to bed first if she’s not on watch duty, and were it not for the elven companions then she would also be the one to wake up first quickly getting ready for the day. However she’s NOT allowed to sharpen her sword until after everyone else has gotten up.     

Shadowheart, too, has been trained to be able to sleep under most conditions, and a comfortable bed hasn’t really been commonplace for her under Shar.

But unlike Lae’zel, Shadowheart would actually enjoy having a bit of comfort in her life, especially after leaving Shar. It’s just something that she has to rediscover gradually. The feeling of the soft warm bed that she has at the Elfsong—a stark contrast to the cold stone of her old bed—is nice, but she almost finds it too warm at first quickly having to throw off her duvet to not overheat. The smell of clean linens however is perhaps her favorite thing, reminding her of a childhood long forgotten. Post-game she would probably enjoy having her own sleep rituals that she can do for herself and not to appease some cruel goddess. 

Astarion is a man of luxury. That means that he wants as big and soft a bed as possible, he practically wants to drown into the mattress. And it HAS to have clean silk sheets, he is done with damp dirty sheets that smell like they’ve been fucked to death. The bed is preferably a curtained four poster so that the warmth can’t escape, because obviously the bed has been warmed up by a bed warmer before he gets in. I know that there are several takes about the wooden board that he has in his tent, but I personally believe that it's there so he doesn't have to place his bedroll directly on the dirty ground. Anyways, Astarion wants a comfortable bed because he is a creature of comfort, and if can’t rest peacefully then he can at least suffer while in a comfortable bed. 

Gale also is a man of comfort when it comes to beds. His bed in Waterdeep has at least ten pillows, however he can only sleep with one otherwise he gets neck pain. The extra pillows are there so that he can sit comfortably while reading in bed. The bed itself is probably also really pompous looking, not exactly like the one from his last night alive scene, no it’s more pompous than that, it’s probably round. Yes it’s round. It’s a round four poster, decorated with golden constellations and heavy velour curtains hoisted up with thick tasseled ropes. And boy did he miss his bed when he had to leave Waterdeep. It’s not that he can’t sleep anywhere else, it just takes him a while to get used to new surfaces. ALSO, Gale most definitely talks in his sleep. Has he ever set something on fire in his sleep? He would never admit it, but he also can’t say no.    

Wyll. Since being cast out by his father Wyll quickly got used to not having a regular bed. He’d either be camping or he’d be offered shelter for his heroic deeds by the people who he helped. He probably enjoys camping quite a bit, finding the quietness of nature relaxing. Either that or he’s too much of an optimist to admit to himself that he misses having a warm bed. Wyll is also most definitely a morning person. Early bird gets the worm and all that. In fact he gets restless if has to laze around in bed for too long. Lastly, sleeping after he gets his horns is, if not a struggle, then at least something that takes some getting used to. For instance, he can’t lie down without a pillow. Not on his back. Not his side. Not his stomach. So pillows are a must, or at least just something that takes the strain off his head/neck while lying down.    

Karlach is probably the most restless sleeper of the gang. Not in the sense that she doesn’t sleep well—because she does—but she is a very animated sleeper, either kicking or punching the air, or she gets those weird twitches while dreaming. So unfortunately she’s not just a bad bed partner because of her body temperature, which sucks because she loves spooning before falling asleep. So, she’s either cradling Clive or her blanket for comfort. She also prefers sleeping in cold environments, which was fine when the group hadn’t reached Baldur’s Gate because when you’re outside then there’s always a draft. However the Elfsong doesn’t offer that same luxury, but at least she gets to sleep next to the window.

Halsin can also pretty much sleep anywhere, not because it’s practical, but because he’s always comfortable, at least when out in the wild. After all, the perk of bear form is that you’re well-padded for any surface. And he is a heavy sleeper. Give this man a good hearty meal, and he’ll sleep for 12 hours. This also means that any bed partner of his should be careful that they don’t get smothered under him, because if he is in deep sleep then you cannot wake him. He has also most definitely talked himself to sleep when telling his children goodnight stories before bed, only to then wake up and find that he’s the one that's been tucked into bed.

(If you’re interested in more bed thoughts then I also have this post)

[creek-on-mars]

thinking abt the batfam olympians au... so i present to u batfam as fencers!!

im a fencer and i was thinking, some of them (cass, tim, duke, damian) are really suited for the sport.

cass - shes lithe, nimble, quick footed. also p flexible, needed in fencing. really important to be quick on ur feet. plus shes got a smaller build; it gives her an advantage.

tim - the same as cass, but he's also got experience wielding the bowstaff and still being nimble on his feet. foils can be REALLY heavy, and it requires a lot of upper body strength (as well as lower). i also just think he fits the fencing aesthetic; it's kind of a rich people sport.

duke - duke has a bigger build, which isn't as common in fencing, but it gives him more power over his opponents. also taller fencers get to flick and back hit (im not jealous im not jealous). i think it wld be smth duke wld pick up to integrate himself into like "high society"

damian - i feel like this one is self explanatory, but for goodness sake this guy fw swords heavy. so i think he'd see fencing and be like "father i want to do that one" also, a lot of fencers start really young (think 6-7) so damians the perfect age to get into it and take it to the olympics.

thinking about it; it's suitable for dick too

dick - we all know he's flexible, he's a gymnast, but i know a TON of fencers who are dancers/gymnasts. the flexibility and quick footedness is pretty useful in fencing. plus, we've all seen that dick has more than enough glute strength. (we do a lot of squatting in fencing)

honestly; its a rich people sport, so i can even see bruce doing it, maybe at boarding school? lmk ur guy's thoughts.

[tiredofthehumanlife]

less haunted more hookup

part one

barbie dolls: gn!reader x anthony lockwood

word: 4.6k ish

summary: you and Lockwood are just fuckin around with your little almost realtionship and its just shennaigans

warnings: lots of talk of sex, i didn’t write like an actual sex scene bc im tired but its talked about a lot, mentions of Lockwood’s dick, hes being an ass, also mentions of Lockwood eating you but its not mentioned if it’s pussy or ass so we’re chill, its not that cray cray its just you guys being kinda goofy, mentions of eating (food), you love pancakes, adventure time reference, George is just scandalized by everything really, that's pretty much it I think

Within a couple of hours, you and your team were able to find the source and contain it. You were helping Lucy pack up in the downstairs library. George was fixing the knocked-over table in the kitchen. Lockwood was upstairs, fixing the mess he caused with his fancy sword movements. You helped Lucy shove the heavy iron chains back into her bag.

“So, what exactly took you two so long to search upstairs?” She asked with a grin slowly creeping onto her face. You grimaced and shrugged. You kept your eyes on the chains, knowing you couldn’t possibly look her in the eye.

“Lockwood trapped himself in the bathroom.” You said. It was a reasonable lie in your eyes. He once somehow ended up locking himself out in the backyard. He had to climb over the fence to get to the front door from the neighbor’s yard. Lucy hummed with a sarcastic tone.

“Sure he did. I’m completely positive you two weren’t getting handsy up there at all.” Lucy said, dragging out her sarcastic claims. You felt your lips twist up at the fresh memory of Lockwood staring up at you from the ground. You shrugged, zipping up the bag.

“I can assure you I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Lucy’s shock had a five-second delay where she added up your grin, avoidant eyes, and obvious lie. She let out a quiet gasp, her hand flying up to her mouth. She leaned forward to whisper.

“Are you being serious?” You pressed your lips together, throwing out a one shouldered shrug. She gasped again, only this time louder. You gave her a small smile, pretending like you had no idea what was going on.

“What are you gasping about in here?” You turned around to see George standing in the doorway. You shrugged, Walking out the Libaray to drop the bag by the door.

“Can’t tell you, it’s a secret.” you heard Lucy say in the library. You had a light smile, happy your secret was safe with her.

You’d tell Lucy every small detail of your conversations with Lockwood. She’d lay on her stomach over her bedspread, kicking her feet in the air. The air between you and Lockwood had always been different than with your other roommates. When you first moved in it was more awkward. You just didn’t click like you did with Lucy and George, there was something weird stopping you both from being able to converse properly. Eventually, the awkwardness settled and then you were touchier. Lockwood rubbed your shoulders, you’d walk with your elbows hooked together, and you leave totally platonic kisses on each other's foreheads.

As time went by, Lucy asked you for more details in private. You kept it short and sweet, not wanting to give away too much of Lockwood’s personal life. Lucy loved the sweet gossip. Two of her friends were getting hot and heavy on the job? Not to mention, the obvious crushes you both had for each other. It was juicy and terribly annoying. You both were so ditsy. You avoided the idea of the other liking you back like a deadly plague. Lockwood would stare over the edge of his mug at you, making you suppress a grin hiding behind your toast. Every time you two were in a room together the tension was so thick Lucy couldn’t breathe.

Then it was the problem of Lockwood’s unspoken lust that quickly changed into the secret you three two shared. How could you two possibly slip back into your regular touchyness when Lockwood’s fingertips just had to brush your palm while handing you the salt and all you were thinking about was that haunted house again? Now it was just, a heavy waiting period. It was certain you both were itching to get back to taking off each other’s clothes, but you just didn’t want to say that because what if Lockwood thought you were weird?

You could still gaze at the other though.

Lockwood would stare at you over his breakfast. He always paired you two up on missions. You’d rest your hand on his shoulder when you set his food in front of him, and his hand would find the back of your knee. Lockwood smiled up at you while he thanked you. He’d dry off the dishes while you washed them, his foot pressed to your ankle. He was thinking about you at night again. Only now he had real material, real memories to lull himself to sleep. He knew exactly what your moans sounded like, and exactly what you tasted like. With time passing, your flavor started to slip away from his tongue, leaving him wanting all over again.

You missed his eyes staring up at you. You missed the light making his eyes look even more warm and inviting. You just wanted to feel his hands running over you again. It kept you awake, staring up at the ceiling with all the unspoken wishes running through your head.

You weren’t sure what broke the camel’s back. It could’ve been a compliment on your good work on the thinking cloth. It could’ve been the look of his hands as he stirred his tea. It could’ve been after you returned from hours researching in the library you found your bed made, a small box of chocolates, and a note hidden under the box with his signature. It could’ve been his hand brushing your back when he had to squeeze between you and George. Whatever it was, after everyone had settled into bed and you could hear Lucy’s snores you were flinging yourself out of bed.

You tiptoed down the stairs, avoiding the squeaky ones. You were 85% sure Lockwood would be staying up in the library, and you were 76.5% sure he wouldn’t mind kissing you silly. Sure enough, the light was peeking under the library door. You steeled yourself, taking a deep breath, before pushing open the door.

Lockwood looked up from his magazine, the corner of his mouth tipping up just slightly when he saw you. You made some joke but it didn’t really matter what you said; he’d invite you in anyway. You slipped through the small talk quickly, you were on a mission to get his tongue down your throat. You were pretty sure he saw through you. Lockwood tilted his head and had a particular shine in his eyes that reminded you of the dark house. Eventually, you were leaning over the edge of the couch, getting closer and closer to Lockwood’s personal bubble. He must’ve caught on to what you wanted, knocking his nose against yours.

You got what you wanted, his tongue down your throat and eventually he was settling down onto his knees in front of the couch and tugging your pajamas down. Even though everyone was asleep, you stayed quiet. And eventually, after your chest was heaving and Lockwood was pulling away, you begged Lockwood to let you return the favor. He was definitely more interested in giving than receiving but with your pretty hands rubbing circles on his hips, he wanted more. You were swapping places in no time. Lockwood was obviously nervous, rubbing his hands down the sides of his thighs.

He relaxed greatly once your warm mouth wrapped around him. He was smothering his face with a throw pillow to stifle his moans within a few seconds you were on your knees in front of him.

Once you were both redressed, you slipped right back into your extremely friendly ways. You said goodnight as Lockwood settled back into his chair. His cheeks were still bright red but he ignored it as he reopened his magazine to where he left off. You muttered something about seeing him in the morning. You stayed true to your word, you did find him in the morning. He was passed out in his armchair, magazine left open to the page you saw him open last night in his lap. You threw a blanket over him before going to find Lucy.

She was just as excited as you, gasping when you explained the shenanigans you two found yourselves in last night. The second time seemed better than the first and it sparked an even stronger flame within Lockwood. He was getting more brazen and desperate. The first hookup seemed to satiate him enough to realize secrecy with most of your friends was important. The second seemed to drag him to the edge of insanity, he was itching for another moan out of you and another taste of you.

The second George and Lucy would leave, he was pushing you towards the closest room. George would leave the kitchen in the early morning with Lucy still asleep and he was lunging over the table to pull you into a kiss, dropping back in his chair the second he heard George’s footsteps. It was like he just needed to feel you touching him to get through his day.

Once George left to go read a newspaper for research in the Library as Lucy was training downstairs. Lockwood wasted barely a second before he was pressing you against the kitchen counter to slip his tongue past your lips. You pulled him closer by his button-up, enjoying the feeling of his hand on the back of your neck. He knocked his hips against yours, making you sigh into his lips. You heard the Library door squeak down the hall. Lockwood pulled away from you, swirling around in a fancy motion to lean against the fridge and pick up his tea off the table. He grabbed the front of your shirt, yanking you towards him. Lockwood pressed his lips to yours over and over again, cutting it quite close to George seeing you two before he gently shoved you away. You slid on the floor because of your socks, bumping into the table. Your hit to the table made the glasses tink. You quickly settled into the nearest chair, resting your chin in your palm to seem natural of course.

“You guys are not going to bel-“ George glanced up from his newspaper, looking between you and Lockwood. He raised an eyebrow. “Why do you two look like that?” You glanced back at Lockwood to see him quirking up an eyebrow as he sipped his tea. You looked back around at George, shrugging. The door to the basement opened, and a very sweaty Lucy appeared. Her bangs were sticking to her forehead. She swiped away at them, letting her forehead breathe a little. Lucy looked between the three of you. George turned to her.

“Why do they look like that?” George asked. Lockwood let out a scoff.

“What on earth are you talking about George? Are you coming down with something?” Lockwood asked. Lucy’s eyes flicked to yours. You suppressed your grin, giving a small shrug. A small smile grew on her lips, looking back at George.

“They look normal to me George. Come here let me feel your forehead.” Lucy stuck her arm out to George. he narrowly avoided it, swinging his arms around to swat her hand away.

“Don’t touch me with your sweaty hands.” Lucy dropped her arm letting George stand up straight again. She looked over at you to raise her eyebrows. In the kitchen? You gave her a shrug, pressing both your hands to your cheeks, feeling your face warm. You both looked back to George to find him pointing between you two.

“You know something.” George declared, pointing at Lucy. She held her hands up in surrender.

“what exactly would I know?” Lucy said. George shrugged swinging his finger between the two of you again. You and Lucy shared a glance.

“That. See you guys have a secret.” George said, jumping when you and Lucy saw each other. You shook your head. Lucy crossed her arms over her chest as she shrugged.

“No, I don’t think so. We don’t have secrets, it is disrespectful to leave your roommates out of something.” You said, tilting your head back to look at Lockwood upside down. “Right, Lockwood?” He smiled at you before looking up at George.

“Yes, incredibly disrespectful. Which is exactly why I told you guys about that rash.” Three groans met his comment. You sat up straight, grimacing at the memory.

“You’re disgusting, truly. You’re a terrible pain to be around.” You muttered, trying to get the nasty taste out of your mouth. You heard Lockwood hum behind you.

”I know, baby.” He whispered it into his mug, the petname came as an afterthought, but George still jumped at it. His arm flying out to point at Lockwood. George looked over at Lucy for reassurance.

“See? Baby, he said baby. When has he ever called anyone in this house that? They’re being weird.” Lucy shook her head.

“Nah he uses pet names all the time,” Lucy said, sitting down at the table with you.

“Oh yeah, he called you darling a thousand times, George.” You added. George scoffed. He huffed before throwing the newspaper on the table and storming out. You and Lucy both turned to face Lockwood. He looked between the two of you before taking the hint and leaving. Your secret was able to slip past George and, under Lockwood’s knowledge, Lucy for weeks. You started to wonder what exactly you two were doing. You never clarified if this was all a friends-with-benefits thing or if you were just dating secretly. You really needed to talk to him about it but every time you were alone he was kissing until you couldn’t see to Tuesday. You told Lucy all about your feelings and Lucy decided she was going to get you two an empty house if it was the last thing she’d do.

One morning George declared to the breakfast table he was going grocery shopping. You and Lucy shared a look before she jumped up out of her seat to volunteer her services. George was confused but decided he didn’t care enough to ask more questions. Within a few minutes, you went from being surrounded by three roommates to just one. You glanced up from your plate to smile at Lockwood. You both sat in silence while you picked at your food. You heard the gate close, Lucy and George were officially gone. Lockwood hummed before his fork clattered onto his plate.

“Livingroom?” Lockwood asked. You looked up, gently setting your fork down next to your plate.

“Livingroom.” Lockwood shot up from his chair, letting it stick out. You stood up, snorting at him scrambling out of the kitchen. You leaned over the table, snagging a sausage off his plate before moving towards the living room. He was standing next to the door, he stuck his hand out towards you. You placed your hand in his. Lockwood tugged you forward, letting you press your body against his. You smiled up at him as he leaned down to meet your lips. He turned around. Your back was towards the living room as he pushed you inside.

Lockwood led you to the couches, letting your legs hit the edge. You finally pulled apart so you could lay down across the cushions. He settled on top of you, pulling you into a kiss again. Even with Lockwood's weight on top of you, all you could think about was where you stand. You thought about Lucy giving you the blessing of an empty house for way more than just another hookup. You gently shoved his shoulders. Lockwood pulled back, tilting his head to the side.

“What’s the weight of this?” You whispered, feeling like the decorations were staring at you as much as Lockwood was.

“What like the couch? Um I don’t know probably like-“

“No, what we’re doing. The sex and the kissing, what is our relationship right now?” Lockwood pressed his lips together. You let your hands settle on his shoulders, tracing the stitches of his button-up. He pulled himself up more, using his arms to hold himself up.

“You know, I actually didn’t plan on having this conversation with a hard-on.” He avoided your eyes, looking around the living room. You hummed, it wasn’t exactly news to you at the moment. You traced a circle around the top button on his shirt.

“It’s okay take your time.” Lockwood sighed at you. He dropped his head, making his face out of view. You rubbed the back of his head in support.

“You’re so hot. Just give me a little okay?” You hummed again, giving him his moment. You tried to be supportive by rubbing his back, reassuring him.

“It’d actually be a great help if you stopped touching me,” Lockwood muttered, his face still out of view. You dropped your hands away, letting them dangle over the edge of the couch. After a few minutes, Lockwood looked up to meet your eyes again. You smiled at him.

“We can be whatever what you want.” You grimaced at Lockwood’s response.

“You had like an extra five minutes and all you come up with is ‘whatever you want’? That’s embarrassing.”You said ignoring the awkward position with your arms dangling off the edge of the couch.

“I was a little focused on something else,” Lockwood said, squinting at you. You rolled your eyes.

“You can’t double-task?” Lockwood shook his head.

“Don’t be mean to me otherwise you’ll have to wait another five minutes.” Lockwood said, a teasing grin showing a peak of his teeth. You glared at Lockwood.

“I’d smack you if I still had access to my hands.”You muttered. Lockwood grinned at you.

“If you want to date, we can date. If you just want to be boss-employee with benefits, I'm okay with that.” Lockwood said, smiling down at you. You frowned.

“But what do you want?” You asked. You would’ve tucked his hair back behind his ear because it was dangling in front of his face making it hard to see his eyes. Lockwood shook his head.

“I want to be married with four cats right now, but I’d settle for a date or two,” Lockwood said. You pressed your lips together to stifle your grin.

“Right, well, since you feel so strongly about this I suppose we could get donuts or something sometime.” Lockwood’s smile quadrupled at your sentence.

“Yeah?” You shrugged in response. He leaned down and quickly pecked your lips before pulling back. “You can touch me now.” You smiled brightly, quickly throwing your arms around his shoulders. You pulled him back down, meeting his lips fully. Lockwood was quick to meet your tongue, already missing the taste of your mouth from being just a few minutes apart. When you felt your lungs screaming for air you pushed him off towards your neck. He dipped down leaving soft kisses on your clavicle. Lockwood pulled back.

“We should probably tell our friends huh?” You grimaced at him.

“Lucy knows.” His jaw dropped open. He thought he was the sneakiest person on the entire planet.

“for how long?” Lockwood asked. You grimaced even more.

“Day 1.” Lockwood looked at you even more shocked.

“How?”

“She put it together but after that, we’d gossip about it.” Lockwood sighed. He shrugged.

“We should tell George then.” You nodded. He met your lips again, his hands traveling down to the waistband of your pants. Just as his hand was slipping past the elastic of your underwear, you heard the front door open. Lucy yelled something about being home. You both shot apart. Lockwood landed in his armchair, leaving a magazine over his lap. You laid on your stomach, picking up the closest book. You held it up to your face, tuning the page like you knew what you were reading about. Lucy and George’s head poked in, the both of them joining you. George raised an eyebrow at you.

“Since when do you read about beekeeping?” George asked. You glanced down at the cover of your book, sure enough, it had a tiny bee on the front. You shrugged.

“I wanted to branch out my knowledge. Is that okay with you?” You said, glaring at him. He sighed and rolled his eyes. George left the room and headed to put away groceries. Lucy looked between you two. She readjusted the bags on her arms the handles cutting into her skin.

“how’d things go?” Lucy asked. You smiled.

“Good.” You said, closing the book about bees. You tossed it back onto the coffee table, you weren’t branching out your knowledge.

“Could’ve been better,” Lockwood muttered. Lucy’s head shot towards him, thinking he was insulting you. “Kinda cut short.” He added, turning the magazine page still settled in his lap. You rolled your eyes.

“Don’t listen to him, it went well.” Lucy settled, giving you a short nod before hobbling out of the room with the weight of all the grocery bags on her arms. After George scolded you and Lockwood for leaving your dirty plates on the table, the day passed quickly. You helped Lucy put away groceries. She told you all about how she wanted to rearrange her room, needing a change of scenery. You helped move her furniture all around the room, hanging up new pictures and curtains. It took so long by the time you were done you both just wanted to eat dinner and go to bed.

With the exhaustion of the day’s heavy lifting pushing your body down into your mattress, you conked the fuck out. You slept like you cuddled up in a fluffy cloud. You had beautiful dreams of ponies and cupcakes it was lovely. Waking up was slightly less enjoyable. You were halfway off your bed, head dangling over the side. Most of your blankets were thrown on the floor, one singular corner draped over your ankle. You didn’t even know where to look for your pillows. While you were sitting up, looking around the room, and trying to calculate how on earth your pillow ended up across the room, you caught a whiff of George’s best breakfast.

He’d cut cooked bacon into small bite sizes and add them to pancake batter. It was your favorite breakfast of his. You kicked off your last bit of blanket and dashed down the stairs. Lucy was parked in one of the chairs at the table. Her eyes were closed and she was holding on to a cup of tea like it was the last bit of life source she had access to. George was standing by the stove with a pan and a bowl of batter sitting next to him. You rushed over to him, tightly wrapping him in your arms. He groaned muttering about the hot stove. You held onto his chin, smacking a kiss to his temple.

“I love you, George.” George grimaced. George turned his head to glance at you. He pulled his hand away from the handle of the pan, shooing you away.

“You’re going to get burned, go away,” George grumbled, turning back to face the stove to hide the smile you knew he had. You hummed sitting down at the table next to Lucy. She gave you a half grin, more focused on her drink. You looked around the table, noticing a lack of Lockwood and furthermore a lack of his cup. You knocked Lucy with your elbow and pointed at his unofficial official seat.

“Asleep, in his bed no less.” You gave her an impressed look. He didn’t sleep much and if he did it was mostly in his armchair. You hummed. There was a silent agreement between you three that if Lockwood was asleep you didn’t wake him up unless it was certain you were all going to die. You would’ve come down the stairs quieter if you knew he was asleep. You cringed at the memory of you running down the stairs. A herd of unicorns would’ve been quieter than your excitement.

Eventually, George’s stack of two pancakes grew and grew until he was out of batter. The last bit of it was made into a mini pancake, which he gave to you once it was done. You heard movement upstairs. You waited patiently. You helped George set the table. You set out the syrup and butter, before straightening the forks next to each plate. You settled back into your chair just as George was setting the pan in the sink.

Lockwood entered the room, in his comfy clothes. He glanced around the room.

“Good Morning.” You muttered, biting into your mini pancake. Lockwood’s eyes settled on you. He smiled and made a beeline for you. His hand ducked under your chin, gently pushing it up. Lockwood greeted you with a soft kiss before moving to the other side of the table and settling into his chair. You looked over at George when the pancakes didn’t join the table. He should’ve set them down by now. George’s jaw was hanging open, his eyes unwavering on you. He was holding the plate of pancakes, about to set them down on the table. Lockwood’s hands slowly reached towards the plate, gripping onto the sides.

“What the fuck?” George said, astonished you two kissed so casually this early in the morning. Lockwood slowly pulled the stack of pancakes away from George’s hands, setting them on the center of the table. Lucy’s fork lunged forward, pulling two pancakes onto her plate. George kept his eyes on you while his hands fell limply to his sides.

“What what the fuck?” You asked, handing Lucy your plate. She added a few pancakes to your plate as George pressed his lips together in annoyance.

“Since when were you two a thing?” George asked, turning towards Lockwood. Lockwood glanced up from his plate, his cheeks full of pancake. He swallowed at a speed that made you worried about him choking.

“Well officially, less than a day. Unofficially, a couple of weeks.” Lockwood answered as you thanked Lucy for filling your plate. George scoffed.

“And you didn’t bother telling me?” George asked, obviously scandalized by this news. You shrugged.

“Well technically speaking, it was supposed to be a secret but Lucy figured it out before we even put a name on it.” You muttered, taking a bite of bacon pancake. George scoffed at you.

“It was a secret from me, basically is what you’re saying?” George asked. Lockwood let out a sad sound, his hand shooting out to hold onto George’s wrist.

“We weren’t dating or anything, we were just hooking up. I assumed you wouldn’t want to hear about that, so I didn’t tell you.” George grimaced, wiping his hand on his pant leg.

“Alright gross, you’re right. But next time something big happens you guys need to tell me.” George muttered, scooting his chair further away from Lockwood’s. You nodded.

“I don't know if I’d call it big, huge might be more accurate,” Lockwood whispered, giving you a cocky grin across the table. Lucy’s fork clattered against her plate.

”Shut up.” You said, grimacing and looking down at your plate. “Dickhead.” you added, wishing he would’ve slept longer. You looked at Lucy to her pressing her hand to her mouth like she felt nauseous.

“I’m eating, Lockwood,” Lucy said. She glared at him.

“So was I,” Lockwood muttered, taking a sip of his tea. You groaned at him, flicking water drops at him.

“Bad Lockwood.” You said, flicking more water at him. George hid his face behind his hands.

“I miss when this was a secret,” George muttered. Lockwood shook his head, patting George’s shoulder.

“I don’t,” Lockwood said, winking at you across the table. You shook your head at him.

“Get your harlot hands off me.” George shrugged Lockwood’s hand away. Lockwood hummed, returning to his pancakes. You looked back at your plate.

George grew accustomed to your new relationship, and Lockwood learned to stop sharing private details at the breakfast table. You started to enjoy the small shows of affection Lockwood added to your routine. He’d say hello with a kiss. He’d flop down next to you on the couch to lean against you. Lockwood started to sleep more with you dragging him up the stairs. Apparently, a boss-employee relationship wasn’t as scandalous as you thought it was.

[airandyeah]

Bastard Prince!Gojo X Foreign Princess!Reader Heavy Is The Crown Pt.4

My Masterlist Series Masterlist

The morning air was sharp—bracing in a way that cut through even the finest of furs. But Gojo welcomed the bite. It helped him think. Helped him not think, too.

The sound of steel meeting steel rang through the sparring yard. He moved like smoke—fluid, fast, almost lazy in his grace. But Suguru matched him blow for blow, dark hair tied back, expression unreadable, as always.

“You’re sloppy today,” Suguru said, parrying a lunge and pivoting with the ease of someone who knew Gojo better than most.

“Maybe I’m distracted,” Gojo offered, not bothering to deny it.

Another strike. Another block. The weight of the blade in his hand was familiar, comforting. Predictable. Unlike the Southern princess who had turned a simple outing into... A date whatever that had been.

Suguru raised an eyebrow as their swords clanged again. “Let me guess. The girl.”

Gojo grinned, wild and boyish. “She’s not just a girl. She’s a firestorm in silk. Did you see her yesterday, marching through the market like she belonged there?”

“I saw the way you were looking at her,” Suguru deadpanned. “You smiled. Like... genuinely.”

Gojo paused his footwork just a second too long, and Suguru's blade nearly caught his arm.

He ducked out of range and laughed. “Careful. I might start thinking you care.”

“I do care. If you get stupid over a pretty face, you’ll make a fool of yourself and the court.”

Gojo twirled his blade once, just to show off. “She’s more than a pretty face.”

Suguru lowered his sword slightly, narrowing his eyes. “So it’s true, then? You actually like her.”

Gojo didn’t answer right away. He rolled his neck, eyes on the overcast sky above.

“I don’t know,” he said finally. “She’s different. Bold. Not afraid of the cold or the court. She challenged my father’s stare like it was nothing.”

He looked down at his blade, tapping it once against Suguru’s.

“I’ve seen girls flinch at the whispers. She didn’t. She smiled like she knew it was all beneath her. And maybe it is.”

Suguru was quiet for a moment, then finally gave a dry snort. “So you’re saying she’s trouble.”

Gojo smirked. “Exactly my type.”

They resumed sparring again, but there was something lighter in his footwork now. More deliberate.

“Don’t let the warmth fool you,” Suguru warned, meeting his strikes easily. “Fire burns, but it also consumes. You better know what you're playing with.”

Gojo’s grin turned sharp.

“Oh, I do.” ~~~

“You made a spectacle of yourself.”

Your father’s words are cold—not unlike the snow blanketing the palace grounds outside the frost-laced window. You don’t flinch, but you don’t turn to face him either. It’s easier to keep your eyes on the swirling white beyond the glass, to pretend for a moment that the morning might be peaceful.

“I made an impression,” you say, voice calm. Steady.

He scoffs behind you. “An impression? Laughing through the market like a tavern girl, fingers tangled with his like you’ve already married the boy?”

At the table, your mother stirs her tea. The gentle clink of the spoon is the only sound between his rage and your silence.

“You asked me to earn his favor,” you remind him, turning slowly to face him. “Would you have preferred I act frigid and forgettable? Is that what makes a wife appealing in the North?”

His jaw tightens. He wants to argue. You see it in the twitch of his hands, the narrowing of his eyes. But the words don’t come.

“Do not mistake your cleverness for control,” he says finally, pacing like a caged beast before the fire. “We are foreigners here. They look at us and see heat and chaos. When you flaunt your nature, you only confirm their whispers.”

“I am heat,” you say quietly, “and I won’t apologize for it.”

Before he can snap back, your mother rises to her feet with all the grace of a queen. “Enough,” she says, her voice soft but final. “Both of you.”

The room stills.

“The engagement ball is tomorrow night. It will be public. Permanent. Every eye will be watching you.”

You swallow hard, your heart skipping as she meets your gaze. You know she’s right. The weight of what comes next presses down like the snow-heavy sky.

“Come,” she says gently, brushing past your father. “Let’s find your gown. You must be unforgettable.”

You follow her to the wardrobe, its doors already open to reveal silks and velvets, furs and gold-threaded embroidery. Your fingers trail over fabric too fine for war and too bold for cowardice.

“This one,” your mother murmurs, lifting a deep crimson gown with golden embroidery. It glows even in the morning light, like embers refusing to die.

Your breath catches. It’s perfect.

You run your fingers along the hem. “I’ll need a cloak.”

She nods, plucking a dark plum fur-lined cloak from the side—so deep it’s almost black. Draped over crimson, it will make you look like fire walking through frost.

“You were born of sun and flame,” she says, smoothing a lock of hair behind your ear, “and you will burn brighter than this frozen court ever dared.”

You meet her eyes in the mirror.

And with quiet certainty, you say, “I won’t let the cold dim me.” ~~~

The hallway outside the grand ballroom hums with quiet tension. Golden light spills beneath the massive doors, and the muffled sound of a string quartet drifts through the crack. Courtiers and attendants bustle around you, fixing gowns, straightening collars, whispering last-minute reminders.

But all of it fades when you see him.

Gojo Satoru stands at the far end of the corridor, dressed in a deep navy coat trimmed in white fur, silver embroidery dancing along the cuffs like frost. A ceremonial sword rests at his hip—unnecessary, but traditional. He’s nothing like the man who laughed with you in the marketplace.

He’s the crown prince now. Cold. Untouchable.

Until his eyes find you.

And they soften.

His lips part just slightly as you approach, arm curled neatly at your side beneath your plum-lined cloak. The crimson gown beneath flickers like flame with every step, and you swear the temperature rises in the room.

He doesn’t speak right away—only looks at you as if trying to memorize everything.

“Gods,” he murmurs, voice low enough only you can hear, “they said you were beautiful, but I don’t think they were prepared.”

You arch a brow, heat rising to your cheeks. “Is that meant to be flattery, or are you still drunk?”

That earns a laugh—soft, genuine. His arm extends toward you, elbow bent, waiting. “Sober. I wanted to remember everything about tonight.”

You hesitate, not because you don’t want to touch him, but because the weight of what waits behind those ballroom doors feels suddenly real.

Your fingers slip into the crook of his arm. He leans in just slightly.

“They’re all going to look at you,” he says, gaze flicking to your lips, “and then they’ll look at me and wonder how I earned someone like you.”

You glance up at him, heart ticking faster. “And what will you wonder?”

He smirks, lowering his voice. “Whether I’m smart enough to keep you.”

Before you can respond, the doors begin to open with a slow, thunderous creak. The herald announces your names, the music swells, and the sea of nobles rises to their feet.

Gojo tilts his head, that wolfish glint in his eye.

“Ready, princess?”

Your grip tightens.

“Born ready.”

And together, you step into the firelight and frost.

The ballroom is a world of gold and ice.

Crystal chandeliers scatter light like falling snow across polished marble. Frost-laced arches stretch toward the vaulted ceiling, each one strung with winter roses and pale silks that ripple with every draft. Laughter simmers beneath the music, a blend of elegance and expectation.

But when you and Gojo enter, everything stills.

For one breathless moment, the court forgets how to pretend.

You see it—every widened eye, every whispered exchange behind bejeweled fans. The foreign princess, burning red and gold in a kingdom of white. And beside you, the prince with frost in his veins and laughter on his tongue.

Gojo walks with effortless grace, spine straight, chin lifted. His hand never leaves yours, held just tightly enough that you know it’s intentional. Possessive. Protective.

When you reach the top of the staircase overlooking the ballroom, a steward steps forward, scroll in hand, voice ringing clear:

“Announcing the formal engagement of His Highness Crown Prince Gojo Satoru of the Northern Realms and Her Highness, Princess of the Southern lands.”

The applause comes after a breath, scattered at first, then building—tight, polite, formal.

You smile, poised as ever, but your pulse races. You can feel the scrutiny, the unspoken doubts wrapped in admiration and envy. The nobles don’t know what to make of you. You’re too bold, too warm, too alive.

And Gojo loves it.

He leans in, whispering low beneath the sound of clapping, “Told you they’d all look at you first.”

You murmur back, “Let them burn their eyes out.”

His laugh is quiet but real.

As the crowd parts for your descent, Gojo guides you effortlessly down the stairs and into the crowd. People bow. You nod in return. Some faces are tight with civility. Others with curiosity.

You recognize none of them. It doesn’t matter.

He leads you to the center of the floor, where the musicians change tune—something soft and sweeping. The official first dance.

Gojo turns to face you, hand outstretched. “Well then, soon-to-be wife,” he says, tone teasing but reverent, “shall we show them how the North and South move together?”

You take his hand.

He pulls you close.

The dance begins, and for all their stares, all their expectations, it feels oddly easy. Natural. His hand on your waist, yours on his shoulder, and the world melting into a slow rhythm of footsteps and heat.

He smells like pine and wine. Like something sharp edged and honest beneath all the silks.

“You’re doing well,” he says. “I was worried you’d melt into a puddle under all these eyes.”

You roll yours. “Please. I was raised for this stage.”

“And yet you still surprise me.”

You tilt your head, meeting his gaze. “Is that a compliment?”

“Maybe.” His eyes soften. “Maybe it’s a warning.”

The song slows, drawing to a close as the ballroom breaks into applause once again. He bows, you curtsy, and as you both straighten, you catch the flash of pride in your mother’s eyes… and the tight line of your father’s jaw.

The rest of the night will be a blur of pleasantries, politics, and pretending. But for this moment, beneath a kingdom of snow and under the weight of a thousand eyes, there is only you, the crown prince, and the fire neither of you are willing to put out.

Gojo is quick to tug you away after the official rounds are done. You don’t protest—it’s stifling beneath the weight of courtly niceties, and your feet ache from polite steps and performance-perfect smiles.

He leads you through a side hall, still glittering but blessedly quieter, until he turns a corner toward a balcony. The doors are wide open to let in the icy breeze, and standing there with flutes of wine and half-lidded smirks are three men who carry themselves nothing like the others.

“Thought it was about time you met the only people I don’t despise,” Gojo says dryly, keeping your hand in his as he approaches. “Try not to be too charmed. They’re idiots.”

One of the men—the tallest with raven-black hair and something unreadable behind his lazy grin—raises his glass toward you in a silent toast. “I heard our Crown Prince finally picked a bride who might be able to keep him in check,” he says, voice smooth as silk. “I’m Suguru. His better half, depending on the day.”

Gojo sighs. “He wishes.”

The next man has softer features, dark hair tucked behind one ear and an amused look that doesn’t seem to fade. “Shoko couldn’t come,” he says. “She’d rather die than wear a dress.”

“And we’re all grateful,” Gojo adds, then nudges his head toward the third figure. “That’s Nanami. Don’t let the expression fool you. He likes you already.”

The blond man standing a bit off to the side gives a polite nod. “Your Highness.”

You nod back, a little breathless as you absorb each of them—so different, and yet clearly all sharing a bond with Gojo that runs deeper than appearances.

“And I’m Yuu,” the other man adds with a sheepish grin. “Officially I’m nobody, unofficially I’m the one who covers for these three when they get drunk and need to stumble home in one piece.”

Gojo claps a hand on Yuu’s back. “He’s the most dangerous one here. Hide your valuables.”

You laugh—truly laugh, not the curated courtly kind—and the sound earns matching smirks from his circle.

“You’re warmer than expected,” Suguru comments, sipping from his flute. “And dressed like a firework.”

“It’s deliberate,” you reply, lifting your chin. “If I’m going to freeze to death, I’d rather do it in color.”

Gojo’s smile at your side is quiet but proud.

The cold wind slips between everyone’s coats and cuffs, but the warmth between you and these strangers-who-don’t-feel-like-strangers buzzes under your skin. They aren’t just allies. They’re his—and now, maybe, yours.

“Let’s go somewhere warmer,” Gojo murmurs beside your ear. “Before Suguru starts waxing poetic.”

“I do that sober,” Suguru chimes in. “And you invited us.”

Gojo doesn’t argue—just rolls his eyes and leads the way inside again, your hand still snug in his. For once, surrounded by the closest thing to family he claims, you don’t feel like an outsider.

You feel like you might actually belong.

The halls are quiet by the time Gojo walks you back to your room.

It’s a gentle silence—not the stiff kind that weighed heavy your first night here. The air is cooler, more peaceful. He walks beside you with his hands tucked in the sleeves of his coat, humming softly under his breath. You don’t know the tune, but you don’t mind. It’s the first time he’s seemed entirely at ease.

At your door, you both linger. A soft smile curves his lips, but it doesn’t quite reach the usual smugness that lingers there during the day.

“I suppose I should say goodnight properly,” he says, voice low.

You tilt your head. “And what does ‘properly’ mean for a Northern prince?”

Gojo leans a little closer, just enough to catch the faintest hitch of your breath. “Something like this.”

He doesn’t rush—doesn’t pull you in like a scene from a dramatic romance. Instead, he leans in gently, carefully, and presses a kiss to your cheek. His lips are warm despite the cold.

“Sleep well, princess,” he murmurs.

You’re stunned for half a second, heart knocking against your ribs. You barely manage a soft, breathy, “Goodnight.”

Gojo steps back with a crooked smile, and you turn to slip into your room—only to notice, in the distance down the hall, a flicker of movement.

A maid.

She hurries off, eyes wide and hand over her mouth.

Gojo follows your gaze and chuckles. “Think she’ll keep that to herself?”

You snort. “Hardly.”

He shrugs, turning to walk away. “Let them talk, then. If they want to believe I’m falling for my bride, who am I to stop them?”

Your breath catches at his words, but before you can respond, he’s already strolling away, hands tucked casually behind his head, like he hadn’t just made your heart skip three beats in a row.

And come morning—true to your suspicion—the whispers will begin. That the Southern princess is softening the bastard prince. That the cold of the North might finally be melting.

And that maybe… just maybe… love is blooming where no one expected it to.

Taglist: @megumuro , @pickledsoda , @jinjen Perm Tags: @thenightperson , @makingtimemine

[anonymous-dentist]

Or: A prince and a pirate meet in a bar...

For Spiderbit Week Day One: Pirates

-

Las Casualonas used to be a smaller building, Roier thinks. More smoke, less space. More room for dancing, less room for goddamn swordfighting.

Roier watches passively as yet another pirate-wannabe gets thrown out of the building. He sips at his (terrible) beer, fingers idly drumming the table in a neat rhythm.

The loser's sword- a pitiful little thing with more holes than a slice of cheese- gets thrown out after them by the winner: a tall woman with white-blonde hair and a big floppy hat.

"Better luck next time!" she taunts. She laughs, loud and harsh and very pirate-y, and turns right on the heel of her boot to head back to the bar to order a round of celebratory drinks for her crew.

The sword on her belt shines dully in the dim tavern light, blood spattered across its blade.

Roier... considers. She's tough. She has a crew of tough-looking people- Roier watched them cheer her on during the fight, and he can see them surrounding her at the bar now with claps on the back and laughter. She has a nice sword. She has a big hat. She has to be a pirate, right?

But. But she just isn't right. She isn't the one he's looking for.

And so Roier turns his attention from the woman and back to the tavern as a whole. Back to the drawing board...

Pirates.

Oh, pirates.

There's a new law against piracy in the kingdom now. There's also a new pirate in the kingdom- or, rather, from the kingdom.

Coincidence? No. The new law was created within days of the Bear Captain's attempted assassination of the royal family's oldest child, and the Bear Captain hasn't been seen since the law was put into place.

This is a problem, because Roier wants the Bear Captain dead. He wants him more than dead, actually, but there are laws against torture these days, too. (UGH!)

And so Roier sips his (terrible) beer in Las Casualonas' most secluded table. He wants a pirate, but he wants a certain kind of pirate. One that will seek him out, not one who jumps onto tables and stabs a guy (though that is pretty cool, can't lie.)

The hood of Roier's cloak is pulled over his head. He's wearing gloves. He's in all-black, and he has a sword on his belt and two knives up his sleeves and another knife hidden in his boot.

His eyeliner is black, and that's all that matters, isn't it.

The woman and her crew leave the bar and head to a table across the tavern: out of sight, and now out of mind.

Roier sighs and looks down at his reflection in his beer. His eyeliner is smudged, ugh. He'll have to touch it up soon; he might be emo now, but he has standards.

His reflection blinks up at him: black eye and healing lip and broken nose. He looks pirate-y, right? Suitably criminal?

He tries a smile. Fails. Sighs again.

Flinches slightly as the chair across from him is roughly pulled out.

"Shit, my bad," he hears. Deep voice, kind of raspy as if he'd just been yelling.

Roier looks up from his drink and locks eyes with a stranger.

Roier... considers. Broad shoulders, some visible muscles, but not many. Solid figure and large, scarred hands. Short hair, scar across nose, golden earrings, bags under eyes, healing broken nose.

Rapier on his hip, and a pair of flintlock pistols hidden beneath his heavy-looking green coat.

Pirate, Roier thinks.

The pirate sits and immediately leans back into his chair with a groan and a slump, his face burying itself in his hands. He has rings on every one of his fingers, and they're shiny. Gold and silver and gold.

"Sorry if I'm intruding," the pirate sighs. "It's just... so much over there."

He doesn't point, but Roier's eyes go over the pirate's shoulder and towards the group of pirates the woman has at her table. (Is he one of them...?)

Roier shrugs. "It's fine."

(Because it is.)

"I was hoping for some company, anyway," he adds.

(Because he was.)

"Really?" the pirate asks, cracking his fingers apart and looking through the gap. He doesn't sound convinced. "You look..."

"Handsome?" Roier supplies.

"Yeah, but I was going to say, 'emo'."

Roier laughs. He can't help it. (He hasn't laughed since it happened, and it tears his throat up a little, but he almost can't feel the sting.)

Leaning forward slightly, Roier braces himself with his elbows against the table. He tries a smile, and he even sort of succeeds.

"Maybe I am," he hums. "But even emo guys have shiny things. Here."

He manages to smile a bit wider as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a shiny gold piece. He places it on the table and slides it across, his fingers lingering as the pirate snatches the gold piece up.

Both hands turning the gold piece over, and suddenly so much more attentive, the pirate frowns: contemplative.

"Okay," he cautiously says. He looks up and furrows his eyebrows at Roier. "What do you want."

Roier's fingers tap against the table.

"Eh, not much," he shrugs. "Just tell me what you know about the Bear Captain."

The pirate snorts and looks back down at the gold piece; his eyes are practically shining like stars, and it's really actually kind of adorable, actually.

"Who, Spreen?" he casually asks, not noticing the way Roier's entire body freezes up at the name. "He's new in the area. Not much of a captain. He doesn't even have any treasure."

Roier gasps dramatically. "Oh my God, he doesn't have any treasure!"

"Fuck you, treasure is important," the pirate huffs. "Who becomes a pirate for fun? It's all about the treasure."

He pauses, then: "Or... it's all about the killing."

Absently, Roier reaches up and scratches at his chest. The rough fabric of his shirt does not feel good under his nails, but he hardly notices.

The pirate looks back at Roier, eyes narrowed just slightly.

"Which are you?" he asks.

Roier hums, feigning confusion.

"Which kind of pirate are you?" the pirate asks. "Treasure, or killing?"

There's a pistol and a bag of ammunition in Roier's satchel at his feet, but he answers, scoffing, "Treasure, obviously? Do I look like a killer?"

He gestures towards himself with a painted grin. His scar just barely pokes out above the collar of his shirt, and so do the bandages plastered over his shoulder wound.

The pirate... considers.

Then, he smiles and looks back down at his new gold piece.

"You're right," he says. "And you're smart. Like I said, it's all about the treasure. Who needs to kill to get money when you can just steal it?"

He flips the gold piece into the air, and he grabs it mid-fall. He opens his palm, and... nothing.

He meets Roier's surprised gaze with a cheeky grin.

"But if you want someone dead, you're talking to the right guy," he says. "I'd have to talk it over with my co-captain, but-"

"Your co-captain?" Roier asks.

At the same time, the woman from earlier stands and cups a hand around her mouth and shouts, "Cellbit! Stop flirting and get over here! Tubbo's going to do a backflip!"

The pirate- Cellbit?- just rolls his eyes and flips her off without looking.

"Her," he says, voice just short of a sneer. "I'm down to kill whoever you want dead, but she'll be a bit harder to convince."

"Ah," says Roier.

He's still smiling, but it doesn't seem to be reaching Cellbit's eyes anymore.

Reaching forward, leaning across the table, Cellbit brushes a hand behind Roier's ear; Roier bites back a gasp, a shiver running down his spine.

As Cellbit sits back down, he holds up the missing gold piece. He flicks his wrist, and another gold piece slides out from behind the first one.

"She doesn't do it for the gold," he explains. He drops the coins onto the table, watching them roll into each other. "She has morals."

Roier frowns. "Is she even a pirate?"

"No, but I am, and so is half our crew. She prefers the term 'boat mafia'. But, anyway, let me finish here."

Cellbit reaches into Roier's cup and pulls out a third gold piece, placing it neatly onto the table near the other two.

"If someone was to come onto the ship and, say, kill the Bear Captain without Bagi's approval..."

He slides his gaze up to meet Roier's, smirking slightly.

(His eyes are so blue, Roier thinks. Just like the ocean...)

Roier finds himself smiling, genuine.

He nods. "I get it."

"Good. Now, let's go join the others so we can-"

Cellbit is cut off mid-sentence as Las Casualonas' doors crash open and a legion of armed guards come storming into the tavern.

Roier folds into himself, pulling his hood further down his face. (He was supposed to have more time, what the fuck?)

"Everybody, stop what you are doing!" Etoiles, the head of security for the royal family, commands.

The woman, Cellbit's co-captain, slowly turns to face him.

"Um," she says, "no? Who the fuck are you?"

"Who the fuck are you!" Etoiles counters. "Are you a pirate?"

"Technically, no."

"Oh, well that's alright, then. But everyone else!" He pulls his sword out and points it at the rest of the tavern. "Put your hands up where I can see them! Princess Leonarda has informed me that her cringe brother is being held captive in here- which is totally embarrassing, by the way, total rookie move from him, and I am not leaving without him!"

Cellbit looks at Roier.

Roier looks at Etoiles.

Etoiles looks at the barkeep.

Roier looks back at Cellbit.

"Kidnap me," he whispers. "I'll have you and your entire crew pardoned when Spreen is dead."

Without hesitation, Cellbit stands and kicks his chair backwards and turns and pulls both pistols out of their holsters and points them both right at Etoiles' heart.

"Cellbit!" the woman hisses. "We are not doing this again!"

Cellbit ignores her and says, voice low, "The prince is not going anywhere. He's coming with me."

"Okay, those two sentences contradict each other, but that's fine!" Etoiles says. "I may not be good at grammar, but I am much better at killing pirates. Are you ready?"

Slowly, Roier wraps his hand around his bag's strap under the table. He's beaten Etoiles once before, sure, he can do it again. Probably. Maybe. (Not in his condition, not now when he's still supposed to be under bedrest, but...!)

"Get ready to run, your highness," is all that Cellbit says in response.

He glances back at Roier, winks.

And then he pulls the trigger, the tavern explodes.

[castingspellsanddaisies]

Jude Bellingham's bad habits + red flags | Tarot Reading

DISCLAIMER: This reading is done for entertainment purposes so take everything in here with a grain of salt and have fun!

Besides being a man, what are Jude's main bad habits?

garden + clover + man + cross + bear + fox

7 of cups + 3 of pentacles reversed + king of swords + 8 of swords reversed + 3 of wands reversed + the world

Jude sometimes acts irresponsably, specially when he's with his ''friends'' (yes, in quotation marks because half of people he hangs out with are not trustworthy). He's easily bented by someone who's (or appears to be) stronger in his/her beliefs, principles, religion...You name it! omg there are people around him who know this as well. He needs to be careful. He just goes with the flow when he's in groups.

Jude also tends to try to use logic in situations where he only needs to feel it. But he does that because he thinks he will move on faster if he rationalizes everything instead of just allowing his feelings to overflow him, but then he gets stuck in it and it feels like forever. He's not as smart as he sometimes thinks he is - not yet, at least. He overthinks everything soooo much.

Jude stays in situations where he's not being recognized longer than he should. He always feels like he can somehow fix those problems by staying, when in reality he ends up being disrespected in it.

And when he gets hurt, he overindulges. And how does he do that? In many ways, in all the ways (think Pisces energy). His escapism tendencies worry me a little bit. He falls for illusions, oh, so easily it's almost cute if he wasn't an adult man.

Does Jude have Red Flags in romantic relationships? If yes, what are they?

mountain + man + cross + fox + rider + sun | back of the deck: fish

page of swords + 3 of cups + 9 of cups + 8 of pentacles + 10 of pentacles reversed + the high priestess reversed | back of the deck: knight of swords reversed

Overall, I don't see anything too much worrying.

In his romantic relationships, Jude's pretty much focused in making his partner happy, in building an amazing (dare I say? He wants it to be ''perfect'' even) relationship. He wants to have fun with his partner, he wants to be the reason his partner's always happy. He's very active with his her and always coming up with new ideas to improve the relationship and both of them. fantastic.

But Jude sometimes withdrawls into his own world, and there's nothing you can do except wait until he comes back. He also tends to act a bit selfish, like doing something and telling his partner later instead of right away. In a long-term relationship, he tends to have abandonment issues, his insecurities start to show after a while, and it can be heavy for his partner. Jude may start victimizing himself to his partner, and this can be a problem.

Does Jude have any Red Flags in his friendships? If yes, what are they?

fox + rider + scynthe + child + whip + crossroads

ace of wands + 7 of pentacles + the tower reversed + temperance + king of cups reversed + 2 of cups

Overall, Jude's a good friend, a commited one. I see he coming up with a lot of ideas on how to have fun, always active, always a joy to be around. He's sweet with his friends, very touchy too. This man just loves touching a lot hahaha BUT he really needs to stop being a pushover, especially with these ''friends'' of his. He just do what he's told... Jude!

And he does anything in his power to keep things peaceful among the friend group, because I see that sometimes things catch fire. Do you remember in another reading when I said that he's very emotionally mature concerning ackowledging his own emotions and expressing them? (I also said tha he still has a lot to learn) Well, yes, he is like that, but as a friend, Jude needs to learn how to step up for himself, because he ends up being too ''childlike'', unable to assert himself among his ''friends''. He's... soft, you know?

That's all for now, folks!!

I hope you enjoyes the reading. Take care <33

[seetangus]

How about azula realizing she really likes the reader after they take a life-threatening injury for her?? Love me some angst

Fiery Care - Azula x Reader os

[masterlist]

Azula x gn reader, tw: blood, heavy injury

1.340 words, please tell me if you find any mistakes!

I hope I got the request right, enjoy :)

No-one had prepared you for this. Rocks were being thrown at you by an earthbender, accompanied by the combined magic of a waterbender, the treacherous, disgraced prince, some incompetent boy with a sword and the Avatar himself.

You had trained firebending a lot, because, even considering that you were born into them, one only got accepted in the upper circles of the fire nation if one was a good fighter, but normally you were kept far away from any actual, real fights by your family, as they valued you - or rather your appearance; they wouldn't want their "little prodigy" to enter the service under the fire lord with any "flaws" that originated from missteps in battles.

However, you had insisted on taking part in this battle for a very special reason.

< • ◇ • >

A few hours earlier:

Azula walked, or rather marched, through the courtyard, straight towards you. That was a very rare sight and an unnerving one too, as you had long been plagued by strong unrequited feelings towards the princess. You quickly arranged your armour to look even more orderly and clean than it already was, acting with a nervousness and anticipation that would have told anyone who saw you that it was not just, like with anyone else, fear, that Azula ignited in you, but also some much warmer feelings.

Well, it might have told anyone, but Azula wasn't anyone, was she?

Her two friends who always escorted her probably knew, but that was no matter to worry about as they seemed pretty reasonable and pitied you, because of your feelings, to a degree at which they didn't feel the need to worsen your emotional state anymore by telling Azula about your feelings.

Now Azula stopped pretty close in front of you - she could probably feel the heat your reddened face emitted, but she did not seem to care.

"Y/N. Our scouts have tracked down the Avatar. We will leave in a few minutes to confront him and his companions. Father says it would be a good first fight for you, but honestly I don't care wether you accompany us as it likely won't make any difference. So you can stay here if you want to."

With much more energy than fitting you immediately responded that there could be nothing more delightful for you than joining her in battle. Ty Lee grinned at you from behind Azula, making you blush even harder.

Azula seemed unimpressed at your enthusiasm, but you didn't care. What mattered was that you would be close to her - or at least closer to her than normally - for a little while.

Also, you should be able to convince your parents to let you go if you mentioned that the fire lord himself thought that it was a good idea.

< • ◇ • >

Well, maybe the reason you took part in the battle wasn't even that special. You wanted to impress Azula, that was about it. A pretty dumb thought, if you thought about it - she was more or less infallible, how was one, especially you, to impress her?

However, there was not much time to think about such matters, as the attacks coming from the people you were facing seemed to become faster by the second.

You dodged a fire bolt the filthy traitor prince sent towards you and melted a stone that flew towards you mid air, freeing you up for just one moment of looking around the battlefield.

The first thing you noticed was dramatic. A whip made from sharpened, magical water made its way to Azula and she, who was in any other moment completely aware of her surroundings, was just preparing to defend against an attack from the Avatar-boy - she could get killed by that whiplash!

From one moment to another, your brain was deactivated and your protection-instincts, and maybe a bit of love, took over: in an enormous leap you rushed over to Azula - for one moment, everything was red and pain, but soon relieving darkness enclosed you.

---

With an enormous wave of wind, the Avatar ripped two small trees out of the earth, throwing them at Azula. She laughed at that pathetic attempt to seize her, igniting the wood with such fire that only a drizzle of ashes arrived at her position. But that ominous rain not only consisted of the remains of the burned trees, but also of blood.

She quickly looked around herself to see from where the scarlet liquid could originate - the first thing she found was the origin of the terrible act: the waterbender-girl was retrieving a thread of water she had been bending for it to become sharp and deadly into the bottle she always carried around.

Continuing her search, she found, or rather stumbled upon you. You laid unconciously besides her feet, your shoulder bleeding furiously. Considering that you hadn't stood there a few moments ago and in which direction the whip had been flying, it did not take long for Azula to realise the whiplash had been meant for her.

Driven back by a continuously growing amount of fire nation soldiers, the Avatar and his partners fled the battlefield, giving Azula an oppertunity to lean down to you and inspect your barely breathing body further. The more she realised what had happened, the more irrational feelings rushed through her head.

Naturally, everyone would sacrifice themselves for her, right? She was Azula. She really should not feel bad for you, it had been your duty to save her. In fights, things like these happened. You had to live (or not, in some cases) with it.

Yet, she could not help telling the healers who soon arrived to be extra careful with you if they did not want to experience her wrath.

She also couldn't keep herself from waiting outside the healer's tent, anxiously expecting the moment you would leave it. You would leave it, after all. She demanded you did. There was simply no way you couldn't.

And, what was maybe the worst of all, your face did not want to leave her mind. The face she had seen so many times on the courtyard and that she had always taken for granted - and that had not lost any of its beauty even when tainted through your own dark blood.

Given the size of your wound the process of healing was a long and exhausting one, but each day Azulas hope of seeing you again grew with the increasingly positive reports of the healers she ordered them to bring her.

Quite a few times had Ty Lee told Azula, in a very subtle manner, that it was quite unusual for her to think about someone this much. To care about them, even. That it almost seemed as if she liked you.

Naturally, Azula refused to give such assumptions any credit. Romantic fantasies like this were for children, and she was the very confident princess of the fire nation, not some toddler, wasn't she?

Of course she had to admit that she valued your wellbeing a little bit more than everyone elses, but her liking you? How absurd. Ridiculous, even.

Anyways, the only thing she seemed to do the following days beside worrying about you was to emphasize that she did not in any way worry about you at all. Oh, she couldn't wait for the day you left the hospital so that she could ask you some serious questions about what you did to make her think about you.

When the day of your releasememt from the hospital came, though, any questions were quickly forgot. Alone the sight of your face made her see everything she could have ever asked for.

You too could not believe your luck when Azula was the first person to greet you after leaving the hospital; her inviting you to sit beside her at the royal dinner that evening exceeded all your dreams.

She stepped closer towards you, and your heart fluttered when you saw the same look in her eyes that you had been giving her for a long time.

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

Your Mihawk has me weak on my knees so I wanted to request something for him.

S/O has scars on her body, mainly on arms. She does fight but some of them look… too precise. One time after she loses a fight she is really pissed and nervous, she goes to a place alone. There he sees her just giving herself a scar with a knife on her arm. Turns out she was taught scars are signs of losses and if she doesn't get one in battle then afterwards she needs to do it herself. That's why she's so determined to always win. She hates scars.

@patisilence tagging since I'm not sure if you'll get this since I had to save it as a draft to format everything right.

Anyway.

I DID IT I ACTUALLY FINISHED IT

I'M SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG 😭😭

And I honestly really really want to thank you. This is my first ever fic-request, for one.

And also, writing this has been an absolute emotional rollercoaster. I have kind of a personal history with self-harm and I wanted to depict it as realistically as possible. Which resulted in heavy focus on character development, which resulted in this practically turning into a novella. I'm going to split it up into a few chapters to streamline things and link them all in this post.

If I do it right, then the entire thing should already be posted when I post this, but I'm still pretty new to Tumblr so bear with me. Each chapter should be between 3k-4k words.

And ALSO ALSO I've been planning a longer Mihawk X OC fic, and I really hope you don't mind me using this concept for it? Because it honestly ties a lot of things together for me

Soooooo without further ado, here's the whole author note thing.

Your Scars Are Mine

Ch. 1

LA! Mihawk X AFAB!Reader

Tags: Fluff, Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Graphic Mentions of Violence, I guess that's it, I'm bad at this

⚠️ MASSIVE ASS TRIGGER WARNINGS⚠️ : Self-harm, Blood, Implied PTSD

Summary: In the few months that he has known you, Mihawk has noticed the scars on your arm. You've refused to talk about them and skirted around the subject successfully, but a trip to Shells Town throws everything out into the open in a way that neither of you were prepared for.

Ch. 2

Ch.3

You were hiding something.

In the few months that Mihawk had known you, he had come to learn a fair bit about you. He knew, for instance, that you had over the past few years made something of a name for yourself as a sword for hire, typically among pirate crews who required a more discreet touch.

That this reputation of yours had led the Buggy Pirates to hire you to assist in stealing a map of the Grand Line from a Marine base in Shells Town. You had failed to procure the map before it was stolen by other hands, leaving you in their debt. Buggy had sunk your sloop to prevent your escape, and you had gotten stuck working for the ridiculous crew for a brief time, remained stuck with them until the Strawhat upstarts offered you passage with them.

Mihawk knew you had traveled with them as far as Baratie, where you had crossed his own path for the first time at the bar on the ship's deck. Where you had approached him with a bargain—if he left Roronoa Zoro alive after their duel the following morning, you would serve him for a year, an errand girl to send off on whatever menial tasks the World Government assigned him.

"And why would I want a little bird flitting around after me around for an entire year?" Mihawk had asked coolly.

And yet you had made a fair point—acting as a government lapdog was growing old. He had been sent after the vice admiral's grandson, for heavens' sake, as if he had nothing better to do with his time than to handle the old fool's family disputes.

Though the surly pirate warlord wouldn't have dared to dream of admitting it at the time, you had his attention. Your offer of unquestioned devotion, your confident demeanor as you sipped a glass of whiskey and kept your eyes on his without showing an ounce of fear or intimidation. You were certainly an interesting diversion from the otherwise dull task that had been laid before him, and your certainty that he would accept your offer had irritated and intrigued him in near equal measure.

It was intrigue that won out in the end. He had left his challenger clinging to the edge of life and taken you with him on his departure. You stayed toe to toe with him in wit and banter, and that alone would have been more than enough to draw him closer to your charm. He had wanted you before two weeks were out, wanted to claim you as far more than his "errand girl," and it was easy to see from the way you effortlessly returned his subtle flirtations that you wanted the same.

And now you were lying back across his broad chest in the hammock aboard your new sloop, a book open over your chest and his hand resting over your stomach, his other tucked under his neck as he frowned thoughtfully up at the roof of the small ship's cabin, pondering over the whirlwind of events that had led up to this moment.

It had been just over two months since the pirate lord had taken you as his lover, and you had been an open book about most things. Your training under your grandmother. Your setting out on your own from a small island village to find your parents, or some clue of their disappearance. The many and varied pirate crews you had served as a hired hand.

Yet you refused to discuss your scars.

Any seafarer with a history as sordid as your own had their share of battle scars. Mihawk had a fair few of his own; one didn't become the most renowned swordsman in the world without a few losses, after all. Yet your voice turned to clear contempt when yours were mentioned, even in passing, and you tensed like a statue when his hands brushed over them. You were confident to the point of near arrogance, yet you clearly held nothing but shame and contempt for the many marks that marred your delicate skin.

Some of which appeared oddly...uniform, for having been gained in battle.

It was in part—in great measure, honestly—the mystery of you that had drawn him in to begin with, and this was just another mystery that Mihawk intended to unravel.

You closed your book abruptly, stirring him from his thoughts as he glanced down at you. He watched you gaze thoughtfully toward the ceiling for a long moment, your hand resting over his at your stomach, before you finally spoke up.

"Reading a book is just staring at a dead tree and vividly hallucinating."

You tilted your head back, grinning as his mouth turned down in a frown and his brow furrowed at your ridiculous statement. Mihawk sighed wearily, plucking the book from your hands and lightly rapping you over the forehead with it.

"No," he scolded, as you giggled softly. He sighed heavily again, dropping the book over the back of the hammock before pinching at the bridge of his nose. "Are you trying to give me a stroke?"

"No," you said, imitating his scolding tone. You stretched your arms out over your head, arching your back for a moment, before rolling over to lay across his chest and brush your lips to his. "But it's fun seeing the look on your face."

"You irritate my very soul, little one," he said, shaking his head as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

"And I enjoy every second of it," you countered, grinning as you laid your forehead against his.

"I can tell."

Your grin managed to draw a small smile from him, before he lifted a hand into your hair and pulled you down into a slow, deep kiss. Your fingertips came to rest at his broad shoulders, the hammock swaying slowly in the steady ocean waves carrying the ship along. He knew as well as you did that he wasn't honestly irritated—your strange sense of humor had grown on him, as starkly as it contrasted to his dry sarcasm, and he rarely had the pleasure of meeting anyone as adept at keeping up with his own banter.

You lay your cheek at his shoulder when your lips parted, your eyes slipping shut and your contented sigh tickling against his neck.

"If the wind holds steady it will be a few hours before we make port," you said, your voice low and soft. "I suggest we don't move from here in the meantime."

"I'm not sure I've ever heard a finer suggestion."

Mihawk pulled one of your hands to his lips, brushing a kiss across your knuckles. He pulled his hat down over his eyes to block out the sun pouring through the windows of the small cabin, tucked his hand back behind his neck again, and shifted beneath you to get comfortable as he closed his eyes. His arm remained curled around your waist, his hand slipping just beneath the hem of your shirt so his thumb could rub slow circles over your soft skin as you both drifted off toward the peaceful recess of sleep.

The first thing that struck Mihawk when he woke was that you weren't in his arms.

Every day and night for nearly two months, he had fallen asleep and woken with you against him, and the absence of your warmth jarred him instantly awake and aware. His eyes scanned around his surroundings as he sat up, taking in where he was—the small cabin of the sloop he had recently bought you as a replacement for the one Buggy's crew had sunk.

His sharp yellow eyes darted toward the door, taking in the sound of unfamiliar, muffled voices outside the cabin.

He was standing in an instant, straightening his hat and pulling Yoru onto his back as he slipped silently through the door and onto the small deck of the sloop.

There was another sloop tethered to yours.

A pair of no-name pirates holding you against the bow ny your arms, their captain pressing the barrel of his pistol to your forehead as they bickered.

"There has to be something on board."

"We could just take her. Looks like she's probably a feisty little thing."

"Still have to check the cabins. Could be—"

Mihawk cleared his throat.

The trio turned their heads in almost comedic synchrony, their jaws dropping at the mere sight of him leaning against the door of the cabin. Mihawk's eyes flickered from them to you, and you averted your eyes, clearly ashamed to be seen in such a compromising situation.

So he shifted his gaze back to the opposing pirates, his eyes flickering between each of them.

"You will remove your hands from the girl or I will gladly remove them for you," he said levelly, lifting his eyebrows.

They quickly let go of your arms, and stepped away when he moved forward to wrap a hand around your wrist and pull you to him. He curled his arm around your waist, lowering his head over yours for a moment and murmuring quietly, "Are you hurt?"

You shook your head no quickly, your jaw set at a rigid angle as you turned your gaze down to your feet, your shoulders tense. He pressed a light kiss to your temple for a long moment before lifting his gaze back to the trio that had dared board your ship, his eyes narrowing in an unspoken threat.

"Go." They remained frozen, glancing between each other. "Now."

They scrambled back over to their ship immediately, severing the ropes that were tethering it to yours. Mihawk kept his arm around you, but his eyes remained trained onto the opposing sloop as it drifted away on the wind, debating on just drawing his sword and splitting it in half on the spot.

He turned his attention back down to you when you began to pull away from him. He pulled you in close again, frowning. It wasn't at all like you to be bested by a few no-names, and it was clear that you weren't taking it very well.

"Tell me what happened," he said finally.

"I woke up," you said curtly. "Thought I'd check the charts and see how far we were from Shells Town. They were already on the deck. Seemed to think this was a small merchant vessel since there's no flag. I'd left my knives in the cabin and I was still half asleep when I came out here. By the time I registered what was going on, one of them had a pistol to my head."

You really weren't making a very good case for him to not sink their boat. He cut his eyes briefly toward the sloop before looking back down at you, your face shadowed by your hair as you stared down at the deck floor.

"Their captain started questioning me about cargo," you continued. "Told them there wasn't anything valuable on board. They were discussing taking me as compensation." You sighed heavily. "And that's when you chose to enter stage left and take approximately twenty years off the end of their lives."

He rolled his eyes the slightest bit at your quip. "I would have taken a great deal more than that had they hurt you."

"Well, they didn't," you replied, your voice still curt. Mihawk lifted an eyebrow. "And it's perhaps best not to go splitting any boats in half a stone's throw away from a naval base," you added, nodding back toward the bow of the vessel.

Mihawk gave a quick glance as well. He had been too focused on the fiasco he had just awoken to to notice that Shells Town was visible on the horizon now. It wasn't as if the Marines could do much about it if he did sink the sloop, but you were right—it would still be more of a hassle than it was worth. He sighed, shaking his head a little, and curled a hand under your chin to lift your gaze to his. You still kept your eyes averted, your jaw set. He hadn't seen you lose a fight before—apart from sparring with him while training, but that hardly counted.

You had proven to be quite the fighter when he had decided to test you. You were nowhere near his equal, but you knew precisely how to play to your strengths with your pair of daggers and your throwing knives. Your stature made you difficult to target even in single combat, your movements a graceful dance that toed the line between evasion and power.

Yet one loss—and a rather inconsequential loss, at that—and you were beating yourself up over it quite a great deal more than what constituted normalcy. Mihawk wasn't sure whether to scold you for being dramatic or attempt to comfort you.

"You were caught off guard, little one," he said after a long moment, brushing a thumb across your cheek. "There's no need to be so upset over that."

"I'm not upset, I'm annoyed," you retorted, pursing your lips a little. "Blades or no, I should have been able to take care of those idiots."

"Annoyed, then," he allowed with a small sigh. "And I've no doubt you would have had I not woke. I was simply able to handle it a bit more...subtly."

"Oh, yes, because sauntering out onto the deck with a giant sword and threatening to cut off their hands was so subtle," you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm as you finally rolled your eyes over to his, lifting your eyebrows.

"Don't be a brat," he chided lightly. "We still have at least half an hour before we make port." Mihawk abruptly wrapped his hand around your chin and pressed his lips to yours in a brief, deep kiss that made you draw in a sharp breath. He parted just as you started to lean into it, resting his forehead against yours. He lowered his voice to an intimate murmur. "I would truly hate to have to spend it punishing you, my little bird."

You quirked an eyebrow, your lips curving in a small, coy smirk. "No you wouldn't."

He gave you a thoughtful frown and a small shrug of his shoulder. "Perhaps not." You let out a small cry of alarm when he stooped down and quickly scooped you up from the deck floor, one arm beneath your knees and his other curled around your back. "I suppose we'll just have to find out."

You chuckled lightly as he carried you to the door of the main cabin, plucking his hat off of his head and placing it on your own as you brushed your lips to his in a soft, teasing manner. Mihawk lifted his eyebrows when you nipped lightly at his bottom lip.

"You're really pushing your luck, my dear," he cautioned.

He lowered you down to the double bed in the cabin, his thumb rubbing small circles at the back of your neck. You lifted yourself onto your elbows, your lips nearly brushing his before he pulled back just far enough to stop you, lightly gripping your hair at the nape of your neck to keep you from sitting up any higher. You gave a small whine of protest, but didn't try to struggle against his grip—you and he both knew there was no point.

"Lie down." His voice remained low and intimate, but there was a subtle command in his tone, in the way his gaze burned into your own. You bit your bottom lip lightly, lowering yourself back down onto the bed fully. A soft, quivering sigh left your lips as he slowly began slipping the buttons down the front of your shirt loose. "Hands over your head. And you don't move them an inch until I tell you you can."

"Mmm..." You hummed thoughtfully, and Mihawk paused in unbuttoning your shirt as you lifted your arms from the bed, holding your hands high above you, straight up in the air. "I think my arms might end up getting tired."

Your lips pursed a little, clearly struggling to keep a straight face, and he lifted an eyebrow at you. "You're certainly in rare form today."

Mihawk wrapped his hand around both of your wrists, shoving your hands down into the plush white comforter over your head, and a couple giggles escaped you before you bit your lip again. It was honestly a bit endearing, how cheeky you were being—and all the moreso, as it appeared you were being so brazen just so he could have his fun with your punishment.

You were enticing him more and more every passing day, beyond the physical desire that had led him to claim you as his a couple months ago. It wasn't a feeling he was particularly accustomed to, nor was he quite sure what to make of it yet. He knew only that when he had seen you held captive against the bow of the boat, an emotion had flashed through him for a moment that he hadn't experienced in years.

For the briefest moment, Dracule Mihawk had felt fear.

He was not ready to contend with the connotations of that.

And he was a bit too busy at the moment, anyway. He let his forehead touch yours, his lips hovering a breath away from your own.

"You don't move your hands," he repeated, tilting his head to just barely graze his lips against your neck, drawing a small moan from your lips, "until I give you permission. Understood?"

"Yes, sir..." you sighed softly, your eyes slipping shut as he kissed down your collarbone, pushing your shirt open. His hand released your wrists and trailed down your arms, down to knead at the soft tissue of your breast through the sheer lace of your bra, feeling your nipple harden against his palm. He tugged the cups down, just a bit too hard given he felt one of them tear in his grasp, but that was a problem for later, not now.

You gasped out when he briefly pulled one of your stiff nipples into his mouth, his grip tightening slightly around your ribcage as you arched your chest toward his swirling tongue. His gaze flicked up to watch you writhe and shudder under his touch, your fingers digging into the bedsheets behind you, your hands searching for anything to keep occupied with.

"Very good," he praised, lifting a hand to brush a few strands of hair out of your eyes and brushing his lips to your jaw. "You see?" He wrapped his hand around your jaw and lightly pressed his lips to yours. "It's much better when you're a good little bird, isn't it?"

"This—doesn't feel much like a punishment," you commented, gasping softly as he circled the pad of his thumb around your nipple, lightly skimming across it once or twice.

"Yet," he corrected.

And gave you a small, devilish smirk, before lowering his head and biting down on the tender skin at the crook of your neck. Just hard enough to leave behind a small bruise, to draw a sharp cry from your lips and send a shiver through your body.

He straightened out as you heaved a sigh, standing over you. Your eyes remained glued to him while he shrugged away his long coat and tossed it back into a chair behind him, noting how your hands tightened down on the bedsheets again.

"Remember we still have a half an hour before we reach Shells Town." His fingertips curled around the waist of your shorts, the lace of your panties beneath them, and slowly inched them down your hips. "I could spend the entirety of it teasing you." Mihawk noted the movement in your throat as you swallowed in nervous anticipation, your eyes glued to his as he pulled them up the length of your legs and off, flinging them aside. "Making you beg for release but never allowing you the satisfaction."

How beautiful it was that it only took a few words to pull a blush to your cheeks and make your breath hitch. He brushed a light kiss to your calf and pushed your legs apart, rubbing his palms up your inner thighs.

"You're going to have to be on your best behavior if you want more, my sweet little bird." Trailing a single finger up your soft folds, dragging through your slick arousal and across your clit, pulling a small whimper from your lips. "Or would you rather I just torment you?"

You bit your lip, shaking your head quickly, your eyes flickering between his eyes and his fingertips trailing up. It was a struggle for him not to chuckle at you—always just cheeky enough to be amusing, but you knew the pleasure he could give you, were so desperate for it that you folded like a cheap deck of cards under his slightest touch.

Absolutely perfect.

Mihawk moved his hands up from your thighs, curling an arm under your back to lift you up and shift you further back on the bed. Your breathing was ragged with anticipation as he brushed his lips to your stomach, trailing his hands back down to your hips, his lips lower and lower, grazing slowly across the soft skin between your hip bones.

Shifting lower and dragging his tongue slowly up your slit, circling the sensitive bud at the apex, giving a quiet growl of approval as your breathy, shuddering moans filled the small cabin and your hips arched in his hands.

His gaze turned up toward your face, watching you draw closer to falling apart with every passing moment. This was only the beginning, and he still hadn't decided if he was going to give you what you wanted...but the sight of your divine, nearly naked and writhing under his touch with his hat still resting on your head made him just a little weak.

He moved from between your legs before he could get lost in the sight of you and the sweet sounds of your moans, reveling in the agonized whimper that left you as he trailed his mouth back up your stomach.

Across to your ribs, pausing at your breasts to brush his lips and his skilled tongue across your sensitive nipples.

Dragging his tongue up the column of your throat, seizing a fistful of your hair and crushing his lips to yours in a deep, possessive kiss, shoving your hip down onto the mattress to keep you from grinding against him, shifting his hand between your thighs to circle a finger around your tight entrance without pushing in. Your low moans and whines of protest were like music to his ears, your knuckles gone white from the force with which you gripped at the sheets over your head to keep your hands from wandering.

Every slow pass up and down your body brought you closer to the peak of pleasure but never quite there—and brought him closer and closer to caving in and giving it to you. He had to wonder whether you had any idea just how much of a temptation you were to him. It had been years since the pirate lord had allowed any woman to affect him quite as strongly as you had.

How much time had passed couldn't be ascertained for sure when he reached his breaking point—his mouth pressed into the crook of your neck while you moaned and begged desperately in his ear, one of his hands squeezing your breast hard enough to bruise the soft flesh while his other worked his belt buckle open and shoved his pants down his hips in a desperation that rivaled yours.

He shoved your open shirt up your shoulders and arms and flung it away; gripped one of your thighs, pushing your leg up as high as it would go, and the low growl that left his throat as he thrust into you was drowned out by your own cries of abandon. Your hips arched up from the bed to meet his, one of your arms flinging around his neck and your hooking beneath his arm to grip hard at his shoulder.

"I don't recall giving you permission to move," he breathed into your neck. He gritted his teeth as he pushed his hips forward hard, shoving yours back down into the bed as you cried out again, your slick walls tightening around his cock.

"I—I'm sorry, I can't—I can't—please—" You gasped, your head falling back as he moved in you in deep, hard thrusts, your fingernails dragging down his back. "Oh God, please—"

He lifted a hand to grasp at your hair as he crushed his lips to yours, delving his tongue into your mouth and drawing in a deep breath as you moaned desperately into the fierce kiss. The prospect of punishing you, of what the hell he had even been punishing you for was forgotten in this rush of unquenchable lust and desire, of pure carnal need for your body.

He normally hated losing control, but this was on another level entirely. There was no room to hate this, no room for anything but pure pleasure, for getting lost inside you as your walls tightened around his cock, as every muscle in his groin tensed and tightened in anticipation of impending release—

Your lips breaking away from his, your cry of abandon as your climax swept over you pulled him right over the edge with you. He pulled your hip up from the bed to slam into you as he came, gritting his teeth against a low groan, the rhythmic contractions of your tight channel milking him dry. His hips jerked toward yours with each intense wave of pleasure, fingers tangling in your hair as he pressed his lips to your neck, the two of you shuddering and tangled together over the bedsheets.

Mihawk heaved a shuddering sigh into the crook of your neck, his fingers tangled in your hair as he brushed his thumb across your temple. Maybe it was the lingering euphoria, but he didn't even think about the next words that left his mouth before he heard them himself.

"God dammit, (Y/N), I love you."

But it was impossible to deny any longer. You really were everything he had never realized he craved. No, it wasn't just the euphoria in the moment—it was that brief flash of fear earlier at the thought of you being hurt, at the thought of losing you. The utter fury at the morons who had briefly held you captive. How perfectly you balanced and complemented his desires.

He felt as much as heard you draw in a small gasp beneath him. "Y—you—wh—?"

"You heard me," Mihawk interrupted your quiet, almost cautious stammering, murmuring against your neck. He brushed his lips against one of the small, round bruises he had left on the soft skin, and said it again, quietly, "I love you."

You were quiet for a long moment, but he wasn't concerned, still trailing kisses up the side of your neck. He had seen it in your eyes before now, heard it in the softness of your voice when you lay against him, your fingers in his hair and your lips brushing his.

Several seconds passed, before you turned your head slowly and pressed your lips to his, tentatively at first, and then deepening the slow kiss with a soft sigh. He shifted onto his side, tugging you to him by your hip. Your forehead came to rest against his as your lips drifted apart, still barely a breath away, your eyes closed, your voice a quiet whisper.

"I...love you."

(Ch. 2)

[bbagelbitch]

Assorted Nekoma headcanons: (just for funzies)

(they've been sitting in my archives for YEARS)

First years:

Lev actually managed to get a girlfriend at one point about halfway through first year, she asked him out because she thought he was cute, broke up with him a week and a half later after realizing he’s a dumbass and a bit of a weirdo

Shibuyama is one of those people who you’d think he’s just listening to Taylor swift or something but he unplugs his earbuds and its like- little darkie or some screamo heavy metal LMAO

Shibuyama has a helicopter mom which feeds his anxiety to the point that he carries pepper spray with him sometimes

Tamahiko has a pet tarantula

Inuoka is the kind of person who’d wear shorts when its snowing out

Inuoka and lev will both unironically do Fortnite dances during practice

Shibayama totally has a bunch of allergies and is a picky eater

Inuoka and lev are basically just human garbage disposals (will eat ANYTHING)

Lev can’t swim

Biblically accurate lev Haiba (gets the worlds WORST sunburns every time he goes outside)

Lev has low blood pressure and will randomly faint when standing up too fast (Kenma has the same problem but refuses to admit it)

Inuoka is one of those people who types in all caps the majority of the time. Every literature and language teacher he’s ever had has told him off for using way too many exclamation points. (He can’t help it he’s just a happy little dude)

Lev texts constant updates about what he’s doing t the team group chat to the point where he’s been kicked off of it more times than he can count. (Usually for talking about taking a shit) (see Charles Boyle from B-99 for reference)

Second years:

Fukunaga and Kenma rarely have actual text conversations but they’re constantly sending memes back and forth to each other

Tora actually has fairly curly hair and it was a borderline afro when he was in elementary school (he’s part latino in my mind argue with the wall)

Kenma listens to almost exclusively video game soundtracks (skyward sword is his favourite)

Tora totally listens to girypop rap (he is 100% a Flo milli Stan sorry)

Tora has asked kai for advice on how to talk to girls SEVERAL times and the information that you should just talk to them like they’re normal people blows his mind every time (how does kai do it? Is he a witch? A demon?

Fukunaga owns at least 3 cats and they all have weird names (inspired by my friend who’s cat’s name is Fax Machine)

Kenma is the world’s driest texter (canon actually)

Also fukunaga uses :3 constantly

Fukunaga and kenma constantly bully Tora about his obsession with looksmaxing and say shit like “he can’t talk he’s too busy mewing” LMFAO (you either drip or you drown taketora)

Tora knows how to braid hair cause he’d help akane with her hair when they were younger

All of the second years used to bite people when they were kids

Third years:

The third years have done group costumes for halloween since their first year

Kai is basically the team’s dedicated tutor (Kuroo is too snarky and yaku is too impatient)

Kuroo listens to western (English) music cause he thinks it makes him seem cool and he developed a superiority complex about it. “Oh you haven’t heard of Radiohead?”

Also kuroo and yaks have pretty similar music taste (a lot of modern rock) but the key difference is Kuroo likes arctic monkeys and yaku likes the strokes (they argue about which band is better constantly (yaku is right, its the strokes))(cause they always have to be arguing about something smh)

Kai also totally has a longtime girlfriend in high school bro is possibly the only person on the team who’s done ANYTHING with a girl (probably one of the only people on the whole damn SHOW)

Kai defo knows martial arts I would not want to face him in a fight

Kuroo still uses emoticons instead of emojis :3 ;D and whenever he does, yaku makes fun of him and tells him to “get with the times”

Yaku 100% repeats what Kuroo says in a mocking tone whenever the opportunity arises

Kai is the type of person to say “personality” when asked if he prefers tits or ass

Miscellaneous:

Nekoma is the most neurodivergent team in the whole show bruh like come on 

(autistic: Lev, Kenma, fukunaga.)(kenma totally also has ARFID)

(ADHD: Inuoka, Yamamoto, (both textbook cases of ADHD in guys) Kuroo, fukunaga) (Fukunaga my AuDHD king)

(OCD: Tamahiko, shibuyama (I just get vibes ok leave me alone) 

(Yaku isn’t neurodivergent he just has anger issues lmao) 

Kai is the only sane one on the entire team

Kuroo is also 100% one of those kids who got diagnosed with adhd really young so he appears mostly normal thanks to being medicated from the age of like- 6

Every single person on the team is oblivious as to when someone is flirting with them (kai is the exception)(girls pull out the wow your hands are so big and you’re so tall all the time and NOBODY reads into it)

Kai exclusively smells like a mix of vanilla and sandalwood and on the other side of that spectrum, Yamamoto reeks of axe body spray and b.o. No matter how many times Kenma tells him that axe actually drives girls away, Tora never listens.

Akane becomes manager of the boys volleyball team once she reaches high school (the first years will be third years by then)

The team all protective as HELL over akane (canon tbh)