#i accept royalty checks

[blowflyfag]

Lets make this happen Paul.

[alienzil]

DP x DC Prompt/notion # 5

Bruce finished logging the last details of tonight’s patrol and reluctantly pulled up contingency file PT-961. “Hnn,” he grunted to the empty cave, staring at the folder on screen but making no move to open it yet. His children were all out for the evening with various excuses: doing research on a case, homework, visiting a friend, etc. He knew they were really with Fenton for a movie night of course…the third such movie night in the last several months since they started sneaking over to visit the man.

He'd put this off long enough, making excuses to himself about assessing the situation before coming to any conclusions, it was past time he did something about it.

Cli-click. There. The file was open.

He’d made this contingency plan years ago, creating it only a days after Dick had moved into the manor and updating as needed as the family had grown but it hadn’t been touched for years.

PT-961 In The Event That More than 50% of the Children Form an Attachment to a New Parental Figure (see file HM-962 if less than 50%) 1. Initial Research: a. Attachment levels – see pages 1-36, graphs I-XLVII b. Assessment of New Parental Figure c. Background and character 2. Intentions – harmful a. If wanting money see contingency files (GD-01 to GD-207) b. If mind control – magic see contingency files (SMM-M-01 to SMM-M-508) c. If mind control – science see contingency files (NAM-ES-01 to NAM-ES-904) d. If criminal intentions see contingency files (CAP-C-201 to CAP-C-508) 3. Intentions – positive a. Option 1. Hire them - See Family reaction projections pages 37-75 - See likelihood of job acceptance pages 76-94 - See possible outcome projections pages 95-127 Note: Option 1 has the highest likelihood of job acceptance and a positive outcome in the event New Parental Figure has an annual income of less than $42,300 and/or is greater than or equal to age 57. b. Option 2. No interference/Let the Children decide what to do - See Children’s time projections pages 128-209, graphs XLVIII-LXX - See possible mission/patrol interference scenarios pages 210-293 - See possible outcomes pages 294-362 Note: Projections for Option 2 show a near 100% likelihood of interference with patrols/mission. Note: Interference resulting in increased potential for injury or delay in treatment of injuries estimated to be 68-94% more likely. c. Option 3. Custody arrangement - See potential arrangements pages 363-482, graphs LXXI-XC - See possible outcomes pages 363-401 Note: The majority of projections show Option 3 is unlikely to be successful. Both the children and New Parental Figure are predicted to be uncooperative in time and custody arrangements with no other controlling factors. d. Option 4. Engage in a relationship - See family reactions page 402-481 - See New Parental Figure reactions pages 482-568 - See possible outcomes pages 569-757 Note: For possible romantic or similar relationships see contingency files (DM-401 to DM-879) Note: In the event Option 1 is nonviable, Option 4 has the highest likelihood of a positive outcome. e. Option 5. Arrange for New Parental Figure to leave - See contingency files (ROI-G-301 to ROI-G-809) Note: High likelihood of one or more children discovering the arrangement for the removal of New Parental Figure leading to high likelihood of estrangement. Also likely to be ethically questionable.

Bruce double checked his notes on Daniel James Fenton. He was 2 years younger than Bruce, earned a high income as a freelance engineer and had multiple patents that gave him enough passive income from royalties that he could easily maintain his current lifestyle without working. There were no indications of any criminal history or ill intentions and thus far all of his interactions with the children appear to have been positive. More than positive given that every single one of his kids was now “secretly” (or secretly in so far as they were aware) spending time with him.

He steepled his hands in front of his face and focused on the data displayed on screen.  The best option to take in this case was obvious.

*****

Ding-Dong! “I’m coming!” Danny yelled as he dropped the laundry basket on the couch and headed for the front door. “Why is there always a package delivery on laundry day?” he muttered to himself. Well, hopefully the delivery guy wouldn’t mind his no clean laundry ensemble. Surely, they’d seen worse than Danny’s ancient, too small NASA t-shirt and the bat themed pajama pants Sam bought for him when he moved to Gotham.

“Hi there, sorry I was doing laundry and…uhh…you’re not the delivery guy”. Danny stared at a sharply dressed smiling man holding a dozen roses on the other side of his door.

“No, I’m Bruce Wayne. I-“

“Oh, shit”

Bruce’s eyes narrowed. “You know.”

“Umm…” Danny gulped. He was not expecting to deal with Batman on laundry day! “Yes?” He straightened himself, squared his shoulders and looked Bruce Wayne AKA Batman, the father of the kids that his core had recently come to recognize as his own, in the eyes. “Yes,” he said firmly. “I know.”

“Hnnn…” Bruce’s voice dropped a few octaves. Not quite Batman’s signature growl but much lower than he had been speaking. “Well then, that simplifies things. These are for you. Would you like to go out to dinner with me?”

“…What?!”

[goodluckclove]

You Don't Need an Agent! Publishers That Accept Unsolicited Submissions

I see a few people sayin that you definitely need an agent to get published traditionally. Guess what? That's not remotely true. While an agent can be a very useful tool in finding and negotiating with publishers, going without is not as large of a hurdle as people might make it out to be!

Below is a list of some of the traditional publishers that offer reading periods for agent-less manuscripts. There might be more! Try looking for yourself - I promise it's not that scary!

Albert Whitman & Company: for picture books, middle-grade, and young adult fiction

Hydra (Part of Random House): for mainly LitRPG

Kensington Publishing: for a range of fiction and nonfiction

NCM Publishing: for all genres of fiction (YA included) and nonfiction

Pants of Fire Press: for middle-grade, YA, and adult fiction

Tin House Books: very limited submission period, but a good avenue for fiction, literary fiction, and poetry written by underrepresented communities

Quirk Fiction: offers odd-genre rep for represented and unagented authors. Unsolicited submissions inbox is closed at the moment but this is the page that'll update when it's open, and they produced some pretty big books so I'd keep an eye on this

Persea Books: for lit fiction, creative nonfiction, YA novels, and books focusing on contemporary issues

Baen: considered one of the best known publishers of sci-fi and fantasy. They don't need a history of publication.

Chicago Review Press: only accepting nonfiction at the moment, but maybe someone here writes nonfiction

Acre: for poetry, fiction and nonfiction. Special interest in underrepresented authors. Submission period just passed but for next year!

Coffeehouse Press: for lit fiction, nonfiction, poetry and translation. Reading period closed at time of posting, but keep an eye out

Ig: for queries on literary fiction and political/cultural nonfiction

Schaffner Press: for lit fiction, historical/crime fiction, or short fiction collections (cool)

Feminist Press: for international lit, hybrid memoirs, sci-fi and fantasy fiction especially from BIPOC, queer and trans voices

Evernight Publishing: for erotica. Royalties seem good and their response time is solid

Felony & Mayhem: for literary mystery fiction. Not currently looking for new work, but check back later

This is all what I could find in an hour. And it's not even everything, because I sifted out the expired links, the repeat genres (there are a lot of options for YA and children's authors), and I didn't even include a majority of smaller indie pubs where you can really do that weird shit.

A lot of them want you to query, but that's easy stuff once you figure it out. Lots of guides, and some even say how they want you to do it for them.

Not submitting to a Big 5 Trad Pub House does not make you any less of a writer. If you choose to work with any publishing house it can take a fair bit of weight off your shoulders in terms of design and distribution. You don't have to do it - I'm not - but if that's the way you want to go it's very, very, very possible.

Have a weirder manuscript that you don't think fits? Here's a list of 50 Indie Publishers looking for more experimental works to showcase and sell!

If Random House won't take your work - guess what? Maybe you're too cool for Random House.

[schlattsdoll]

Imagine going to the streamer awards with Schlatt (you’re not a streamer) and if he wins something then once you all get home he makes you cum as many times as he can as a celebration type thing

celebrate- jschlatt

minors dni

paring: schlatt x fem/afab! reader

warnings: smut {18+}, mentions of overstim, schlatt being a horny mf, overuse of pet names {im sorry}

to be quite honest with you, schlatt didn’t even want to go to the streamies. it wasn’t his scene and he was confident in the fact he wasn’t going to win. what sold him on it was seeing you in a tight dress. he took you shopping that morning, you two decided on wearing purple, the color of royalty as you told him. “makes sense, got my beautiful princess so that makes me a king.”

it was almost time to leave as you were putting the finishing touches on your makeup. “doll, we gotta go.” schlatt held your hand as you slid on your heels and even fixed the buckles for you. the tight sequined dress hugged your curves perfectly, the purple complementing your complexion.

“absolutely stunning.” your boyfriend commented with a wolf whistle. “whaddya say we skip this thing? i could do that thing ya like with my tongue.” he smirked and kissed up your neck. “jay, no. this is a big night for you! we have to go, that’s that.” you pushed the larger man away from you and frantically tried to fix your hair.

the car ride to the venue was so exciting for you. having only been with schlatt a few months, you hadn’t been to a streamers event before. “this is gonna be so fun jay! we’re gonna take pictures and you’re nominated! i think you’re gonna win personally.”

he rolled his eyes at the thought of him winning. “‘m glad you’re excited toots. at least one of us is.” you knew he wasn’t the biggest fan of going out, much rather wanting to spend the night back home in austin with you and jambo instead of being in smoggy old la. “c’mon baby, you’ll have fun trust me.” “i think having you bent over the bed would be more fun but okay.” he muttered under his breath.

you were right of course, sitting at the table with his fellow nominees ted and charlie, he started to loosen up a bit. drinks were flowing, laughs were being had, and schlatt started to ease up. “the nominees for best new podcast are…” ethan nestor started reading out their category. “oooh baby listen up!”

schlatt felt his nerves jump back up, he didn’t care about winning honestly. you were just so excited for him and the guys, he didn’t want to disappoint you.

“and the winners of best new podcast are….” you held schlatts hand tightly with one hand while you bit your nails on the other. “chuckle sandwich!” a camera panned over to your table and the guys all got up to go on stage, right after kissing their dates.

“thank you all so much for this amazing award, i think i speak for all of us when i say we definitely didn’t expect to be nominated let alone win. thank you to the fans for tuning in every week and we hope you keep listening!” ted spoke eloquently, a perfect acceptance speech; short and sweet.

once back at the table, his hand made its way to your thigh. “hey doll, don’tcha think i deserve a winner’s reward when we get back to the hotel?” he whispered in your ear then kissed your neck. his hand rubbed your thigh, inching closer and closer to your core. you squeezed them closer together, attempting to block his hand from his target.

the rest of the event was quite draining. all you could focus on was what schlatt was going to do to you later that evening. finally you got to leave and instead of going to the after party, you faked being sick. “sorry guys, im not feeling so hot. i better sit this one out. jay, you don’t mind not going do you? i feel so bad.” you pleaded with the large man, who knew you were faking it. “yeah guys, let’s do a rain check for next chuckle week. gotta make sure my baby’s feelin’ alright.” schlatt wrapped his jacket around you, and walked you towards his car. “congratulations again guys!”

the drive home was an entirely different vibe, schlatts hand was ghosting against your center, teasing you through your underwear. “couldn’t even wait for me to celebrate with my friends? needed me that badly huh doll?” he smirked at you while his fingers grabbed a hold of your panties and pulled them to the side. “s’fuckin’ wet for me…”

his large digits found their way to your clit, rubbing soft slow circles. “that’s it. atta girl. you looked so pretty tonight sweetheart. wanted to take you into a bathroom and fuck the shit outta ya.” your back arched into the seat at his words. “oh you like that idea don’t you princess? me taking care of this sweet cunt wherever i want it, not caring who sees me with what’s mine.”

his fingers speed up, causing you to grip tighter on the center console, “fuck jay, don’t stop. ‘m gonna cum.” “that’s right, cum for daddy.”

the car stopped moving, pulling into the hotel’s lot where schlatt waited until your orgasm subsided to help you out and into the room. once there, he tossed you onto the bed. “i believe i was promised the thing i like?” you smirked up at him.

dropping down to his knees and taking the headband out of his hair, he pulled you closer to the edge. “i’m a man of my word doll. but i’m gonna make you cum so many times you’re gonna cry.”

and once again, schlatt was a man of his word.

[makethatelevenrings]

Royalty AU - Simon Riley x f!reader

A/N: 9,335 words (20 pages) all in one sitting. I'm unwell. My mother became increasingly concerned as I didn't move from one spot. This is unedited. I'm sorry but I'm not.

Warnings: period(?) typical misogyny, allusions to sexual assault/rape (reader thinks she will be forced to perform her marital duties), illness, fever, violence, light smut so 18+, Simon being emotionally constipated, pregnancy (at the end)

This is part of my 5k Follower Celebration! Check it out to see if any prompts are still open to claim!

The first time you met your husband was your wedding day.

Crowds of people lined the dirt roads as the carriage lurched across the hills and valleys. Their faces peered carefully into the windows in an attempt to see past the velveteen curtains that obscured you from view. Your dress was a heavy combination of silk and a golden brocade that clung to your skin. The veils of your unmarried status hung around your face, giving the appearance that your face was something precious to behold.

Beside you, mother sat silently. Father was in the carriage ahead of you so he could escort you out once the time came. This was supposed to be a happy day, a blessed day, but all you could feel was dread as the wheels crept closer to the looming castle at the center of the village. Hushed whispers permeated the air and you couldn’t tell if the townspeople were looking at you in pity, anger, or disgust. Who were you? Some princess who was now going to be their queen despite never having stepped foot on their land.

You shut your eyes against the shame that burned at your cheeks. You didn’t open them until the carriage stopped.

“Let’s go,” Father said gruffly. He stood at the door of the carriage with his hand extended. Your mother exited first and then you did, only to be greeted by more hushed whispers and judgmental stares. You sucked in a deep breath and straightened your shoulders, raising your head to focus solely on the doors before you. One step. Two steps. You let the mantra guide you through the hall, past the people seated on the sides of the aisle, and to the raised dais before everyone and the gods.

Your betrothed stood on the opposite side of you. King Riley was as big as a mountain, a maid whispered to you as they dressed you that morning. His cruelty knew no bounds, another said. He killed without mercy on the battlefield. He was violent and vicious. No one had ever seen his face. He was incapable of loving anything but blood. His people were the same. Violent and rude, unrefined and uncivilized. Children left feral in the streets. Men and women who wrought vengeance for the smallest infractions. A kingdom ruled by fear and bloodlust.

When the rider came to the gates of your town with a treaty and alliance written out with the stipulation that the princess would marry King Simon Riley, you knew that you would have to accept. Your people were starving from the famine in your lands. Your parents had raised you for this.

Stepping onto the dais, your hand left your fathers and instead slipped into the larger, gloved palm of the king. Your head raised and you could see through the veils that he truly did wear a mask, something awful with a skull painted across the front of it. He couldn’t have gone without it for his wedding? You averted your gaze and instead focused on the priest. The words reverberated through your ears, but you hardly paid attention to the vows. You knew when to say the right words and how to say it.

And then the priest was announcing your marriage finalized and those gloved hands released yours to lift the edge of your veils. The lower half of his mask was raised to reveal his lips and the kiss was short, perfunctory, and colder than ice. Perhaps your maids were right, you thought to yourself. Fear gripped your heart for the rest of the night. Through the reception, the dances, and the dinner, you waited for this hulking mass of a man to take you to his bedchambers and force you to do your duty.

But he never did.

King Riley, your husband, merely sat back in his chair and watched the dancing couples on the floor. He occasionally spoke to the men seated beside him, but he never once glanced your way. When a maid approached you to take you to your new room, you glanced back at him, but he didn’t spare you a glance. She undressed you without saying a word, so unlike your friend and compatriot Lucy who had accompanied you but was probably packing the carriage for the return home. You would be all alone in this foreign place with no friends, no allies.

The maid left you in your thin nightgown and you sat in the big, empty bed and waited for your husband to come so you could perform your marriage duties.

The door lay untouched. As did you.

When the fire began to dim in its hearth and you realized that he wasn’t coming, you pressed your face into the soft, goose down pillow below your head, and wept, both in relief and out of despair. This was your life now.

The next morning, you awoke to someone gently touching your shoulder. Turning, you expected to see the same stone-faced maid from last night but was surprised to find Lucy standing over you.

“The king asked your father last night if he could retain me on his staff,” she explained. Hope filled your heart at the realization that you weren’t truly alone. One of your closest friends and allies would be here. She dressed you quickly as you picked at the tray of breakfast she had brought. As the bells chimed the arrival of seven in the morning, a knock sounded on your door. You settled yourself primly in a chair by the fire as Lucy went to answer.

“Your Majesty,” a knight greeted you as he stepped inside the room. He was tall, but not as tall as your husband, and his kind smile betrayed the intimidating broadsword that was strapped to his back. His hair was cropped short aside from a mohawk that split down the middle. All in all, he didn’t look like any of the stuffy, dignified knights of your parents' court.

“Good morning,” you greeted stiffly. His smile dimmed slightly and he inclined his head to you and then Lucy.

“My name is Sir John MacTavish, Your Majesty. I was sent to provide you both with a tour of the castle and the grounds.”

“Am I in any danger?” you asked. It was unusual that a knight would be sent to do a simple tour, but this whole court seemed entirely different from the way you were raised.

“No, my lady. It’s His Majesty’s version of a punishment, I’m afraid. He didn’t take too kindly to Sir Garrick and I stealing his sword for a day.” His crooked grin grew. “But if my punishment is to escort two beautiful women, then I fear I will find myself in more trouble.”

You exhaled a huff of laughter as Lucy’s cheeks flushed. This MacTavish was trouble, but he was the kindest person you had met so far in this country. Lucy grabbed a cloak for you and you thanked her for grabbing one without all the ornamentation that your mother insisted was fit for a queen. How on earth were you supposed to get your hands dirty if you were weighed down by jewels?

Sir MacTavish opted to show you the grounds first. The village bustled with activity and no one seemed to pay you any mind, which you preferred. Vendors stood at booths and bartered with tradesmen. Knights patrolled the edges of the market to keep an eye out for anyone with an intent to steal or deceive. Mothers with babies swaddled to their backs and chests carried laundry baskets on their hips. Men headed for the great doors implanted in the walls. They were open now, enabling the farmers, shepherds, and tradesmen to come and go.

Oh, it was delightful.

You were rarely allowed to step out into the village of your home because your mother insisted it was a dirty, loud, disease-filled place. Sure, it was full of voices and raucous laughter, and dirt and dust swirled into your hair and skirts, but it was full of people.

“Now, your main export is wheat, correct?” you asked over the din of the crowd. Sir MacTavish’s large stature and imposing sword made the crowds part, giving you a chance to examine the houses and buildings on either side of you. Lucy slipped her hand in yours in an attempt to stay close and not get swept up in the crowds.

“Aye,” he replied in his thick brogue. “How’d you know that?”

“When I first learned of the proposed alliance, I made an effort to learn about the country,” you admitted. “The orchards are your second greatest export, but I was told that you have to import medicinal herbs from other countries. Is the ground not suitable for those kinds of plants?”

He looked at you with something akin to surprise and then shrugged. “Alex, our main healer, has been trying to grow herbs for a while but they never last. He’s tried damn near everything. We try to stock up before the winter months when the fevers typically arise, but we’ve lost quite a few people to sickness.”

You pursed your lips in thought. “Your land should have the nutrients for the plants to survive. Their must be something else stunting them. Could you set up a meeting with the healer, if that’s allowed?”

The knight scoffed at your question and you felt, for a brief moment, that you overstepped. But he quickly dissuaded that thought. “You’re the Queen, m’lady. Of course that’s allowed.”

Hours later, MacTavish watched you talk with Alex, head bent over a book and finger pressed against the lines of text. Lucy stood next to him, rocking back and forth on her heels. You gestured to something outside and Alex lit up, your talking increasing in speed and volume.

“Is she always like that?” he asked the maid. Pride effused from her veins and she grinned brightly at him.

“Oh yes, she’s always been focused on caring for her people. The King and Queen…” Lucy faltered. “They were not as conscientious.”

When Soap first heard about the impending marriage, he thought Simon was off his rocker, well and truly. Price said it would strengthen their trade and provide protection from the west, but his king was the exact opposite of a touchy-feely love kind of person. But Soap also forgot that they were no longer a bunch of soldiers playing hero on the battlefield, but knights turned politicians. Gaz had nearly laughed himself out of the council chambers when Simon announced his intent to marry, especially to a princess of a small country. All they knew about you was from your parents. Your mother was a known court gossip and cared more about the latest dress trends than the status of her citizens. Your father was known for his callous nature and manipulation of his court.

All in all, they hadn’t heard good things about you.

Simon intended for it to be a purely political marriage. At some point, an heir would need to be produced, but Soap realized pretty quickly that Simon was betting on you producing some sort of bastard heir. Well, he thought to himself, Ghost’ll be surprised to hear about this.

That night, long after Lucy left you to sleep, you found yourself unable to fall into that state of semi-unconsciousness. The bed was too large, too empty for you. Sighing, you got up and pulled on a dressing gown over your thin nightdress and grabbed one of the candlesticks from the mantle. You used the dying light of the fireplace to ignite the wick and used the light to guide your steps out of the room and down the hall to where Sir MacTavish had shown you the library. This was your house too, now. Right?

Carefully, you eased open the doors and slipped into the library to find that a decent fire warmed the seating area. A maid must have left it going on accident and you made a mental note to smother it before you left. 

Shelves full of books lined the room and you tentatively approached the closest one, lifting your candle higher to see the titles inscribed on the spines. It seemed like every book in the world filled this room. You wanted to know more about this country and its culture, economy, everything. Three shelves down, you hit a jackpot and started to acquire a small stack of books that you could carry back to your room.

Until something tugged at the edge of your gown.

A startled shriek escaped you and you looked down to find a little kitten playing with one of the tassels of your dressing gown. You laughed at your own foolishness and bent down to set the candlestick on the ground and offer your hand to the kitten. It chirped and butted its head against your palm.

“Well hello,” you cooed. “You’re just a baby, aren’t you? Where’s your mama?”

“They stay in the library to kill any rats that get in.”

This time, you nearly jumped out of your skin. You didn’t even hear another person approach and certainly not the huge man that stood before you. A gasp escaped you as you pulled your dressing gown closer around your body. You were fully aware of how improper this was. You were a married woman. You were the Queen. You could not be seen half-dressed in the library with a strange man.

His dark eyes tracked your movements and he turned to look at the books beside him. “My apologies, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, by all means, sneak up on a woman at night, all alone,” you huffed. You gave the kitten one more scritch under the chin and then gathered up the books and pressed them against your chest to hide yourself better. Your other hand scooped up the candlestick and you stood to face him. Well. As best as you could. He towered over you easily and you swallowed past the lump in your throat. He was beautiful, in a haunted sort of way. His nose was crooked, as if it had been broken before, and a thick scar ran across his cheek and through his lips. Messy blond hair fell across his forehead and some strands into his dark brown eyes. You had never seen him before, but you assumed by his ease of movement in the library and the muscles that rippled under his shirt that he was a knight.

“If you will excuse me now,” you said tersely. He stepped back to give you space and you practically stormed past him and out of the library. No way in hell would you be accused of impropriety.

Simon watched you leave with an amused smile pulling at his lips. He bent down to offer the kitten a gentle pet and noticed that you had left a book behind. Scooping it up, he assumed it would be some frivolous thing but found himself surprised when he read the title. What the hell were you doing reading last years tax collections?

Two months passed and you were settling into your new life quite well. You rarely saw your husband and, when you did, the two of you barely exchanged more than a stilted greeting and farewell. You didn’t mind. Sure, the court and the villagers were starting to whisper about your lack of body changes, but you didn’t give a shit. King Simon hadn’t darkened the doorstep of your bedroom and you preferred it that way. 

Despite the fact that villagers turned their backs to you, for once in your life, you didn’t feel pressured to exist by the constraints of others' expectations. For once, you felt like you could truly just…be.

The winter was beginning to creep up on the land. You could feel it in the mornings when your joints were a bit stiffer and the bed a little more inviting than it typically was. A new fur pelt blanket appeared on the edge of your bed after the first cold front pushed through and you accepted it gratefully. Lucy denied having acquired it, but you figured she was just being demure. King Simon and Sir MacTavish were off hunting with a few men before the winter finally closed the city walls for the season. It allowed you a chance to breathe just a little easier without wondering what your so-called husband was up to.

Despite the cold, you were in the garden plots on the far side of the castle wall. After talking with Alex, you had realized the old garden plot was too close to the castle and absorbed extra heat off of the sun’s reflection from the windows. The new garden spot provided the perfect amount of shade and light in equal turn and the herbs were growing beautifully. Alex had been called to help with a scythe injury in the fields, so you volunteered to gather the last of the herbs before the first frost. Lucy sat nearby with a basket of darning next to her. Your ever faithful friend rarely left your side and you were eternally grateful. Even if you knew she made sure to change out her dress and apron if Sir MacTavish came by to chat.

“Your Majesty!” a shrill voice shrieked in the distance. You glanced up and saw a young boy rushing towards you with two knights hot on his tail. The child’s face was stained with tears and his breaths choked off with the occasional hiccuping sob, but he still outpaced the two knights. You stood and wiped the dirt on your hands onto your skirt and kneeled in time to catch the boy by the shoulders before he bowled you over. The knights drew their weapons, but you raised your hand to stall them.

“What is it?” you urged the boy to explain. “What’s wrong?”

“My mother. She’s ill. Healer Keller is in the fields and Lady Karim went to get him, but she’s getting worse a-and I don’t know what to do,” he sobbed.

“Put your weapons away,” you ordered the knights. The older one left, presumably to fetch help, and the younger one sheathed his sword.

“Your Majesty, it’s the fever,” the knight explained. His soft eyes cast a worried glance at your hands that held the boy, but you brushed aside that concern. He was a child and he needed comfort. He needed to feel as though his mother had a fighting chance.

“Lucy, I need feverfew, ginger, and echinacea. Sir…” You turned to face the knight and he tipped his head in a formal greeting.

“Garrick, Your Majesty.”

“Sir Garrick will lead you to the house. Come, show me to your mother.” The boy grabbed your hand and you used your other free hand to gather your skirts and run. His house was on the opposite end of the village and the braying of cattle and sheep filled the air along with the clanking of their bells. When you stepped into the house, the earthy richness of the soil was overwrought with the pervasive scent of sick. A woman on the bed curled in on herself and let out a violent cough into the rag loosely clutched in her hand. Next to the bed, a baby wailed in its cradle.

“What’s your name?” you asked the boy gently.

“Tommy, m’lady.” Tears lined his eyes once more and you smoothed his hair down, offering him a reassuring smile.

“Alright, Tommy. Can you do me a favor? If I move your sister outside, can you take care of her until Sir Garrick and Lucy arrive?” He nodded his head so quickly, you thought he might injure himself.

You scooped up the baby and placed her in her brother’s arms before you grabbed the cradle and carried it outside, the children following close behind. The cold winter air nipped at your nose and you quickly discarded your fur-lined cloak. You wrapped it around Tommy and the cradle and instructed him to stay outside.

Once back in the house, you rolled up the sleeves of your gown and washed your hands in a basin set up by the door. Approaching the woman, you pressed the back of your hand to her forehead and cursed under your breath.

“Tommy?” she whimpered. You brushed your hand over her brow and shushed her.

“Rest. It’s alright. I’m here to help.”

Lucy came only a few minutes later with the supplies you ordered and a few other things she thought you would need. She then took Tommy and his sister, Eleanor, to the castle to stay at for the time being. The mother, Fiona, wasn’t too far gone in your estimate. You had helped the healers back home during the fever, slipping out when your mother wasn’t looking. The study of herbs and medicine fascinated you, even if it wasn’t a ladylike pursuit. Despite Sir Garrick’s protest at it being too dangerous, you stayed with Fiona even when Alex returned from the fields with her husband in tow. Instead, you banished the two men to find somewhere else to stay to lower their risk of infection. It would be no use if the children lost both parents and the country lost its best healer.

“Inhale, you’re doing great,” you coaxed Fiona through a steam treatment. The echinacea helped relieve some of her cough and the feverfew was bringing her temperature down. You had been at it for hours now and even though your mind ached for rest, you needed to see this through. Sir Garrick posted himself outside of the door and refused to leave until you did, so you weren’t the only one with a sleepless night.

As dawn broke on the second day, so did her fever. You must have dozed off at some point in the early hours and you rose to stoke the fire to keep the small cabin warm. Fiona stirred on her bed and let out a slight cough that sounded much better compared to the first time you saw her. A little bit of color returned to her face and you knew that you were past the point of the illness being lethal.

“Your Majesty,” she breathed. The woman tried to rise from her bed, but you shook your head and motioned for her to stay seated. You poured her a cup of ginger tea and settled yourself on the edge of the bed, helping her drink it in long, slow sips.

“How do you feel?” you asked.

“Better, m’lady. So much better. How did you…?”

A quiet laugh escaped you. “An old healer in my home village taught me all she knew. She was accused of being a witch, but she was really just smart.”

“Tommy and Eleanor? Are they alright?”

“Being doted on by the castle chef’s, I believe,” you assured her. “And your husband is with them. They’re all well.”

Fiona inhaled deeply for the first time in days and then blinked back tears. Her hands grasped yours and she bowed her head. “I’m so sorry, Your Majesty. We thought you were some foolish girl. We’re so protective of the king that we just assumed… oh, my Queen, please forgive me for the contempt I felt towards you.”

A wave of both sorrow and adoration washed over you and you hugged the woman close. “You need not apologize. What’s done is done and let us move past it.”

On the third day, with her fever down and the risk of contagion passed, you granted the family to return to the cabin and accepted Sir Garrick’s offer of an escort back to the castle. You were sure you made a right sight, with your dress dirty with soot from mending the fire and spills of both tea and sick staining the fabric. You kept your chin up and shoulders back as you walked through the village. You didn’t want to look at the faces peering through their windows and open doors. You didn’t want to see their judgment at the sight of their Queen in such a disarray.

As you approached the castle, you asked Sir Garrick the question that had brewed in your mind since you left the cabin. “Has the king returned yet?”

“No, m’lady. We expect him back tomorrow.”

Good, you told yourself. He won’t see you looking like this. He won’t be present for what happens next.

Lucy heated bathwater for you and had it ready when you stepped through the doors of your suite. You refused to let her help you undress and bundled your dress into a bag before instructing her to burn it to ensure that contamination didn’t affect anyone else. The scent of rose petals lingered in your nose and you let your head loll back against the rim of the tub. 

“You should go,” you instructed your maid. “I will fall ill in a day, maybe earlier.”

“Is that an order?” You had never used rank on her. It was unheard of between the two of you and the thought of it made you cringe.

“Never.”

“Then I shall stay.”

Through the fog of sleep, you heard the doors shudder against the force of something. Sunlight was streaming through the windows and you could guess from the position of the rays on the bed, it was near noon, far past your usual wake time. You willed your body to rise from the bed, but all you were capable of doing was releasing a violent cough that rattled your lungs and made your bones ache.

The door rattled again and you concluded that it had to be a dream. Another cough escaped you and you looked at the fabric below your cheek to see a small splatter of blood on the fabric. Yes, a dream. You were still at home. You had fallen asleep in a bed of wildflowers in the garden, a book on your chest and a bird perched on your shoulder. The warmth that flowed over your body was simply the sun bathing you in its gentle light.

Footsteps pounded against your eardrums in the steady thudthudthud that matched your heart and you shut your eyes to ward off the ache that accompanied it. A wheezing breath passed through your lips just as two hands grabbed your cheeks.

“Your Majesty!” Lucy cried from somewhere to your left.

“How long has she been ill?” a voice growled above you. You tried to place it to a face, but all you could see was what appeared to be a skull. You couldn’t be that far along in the fever, right?

“This is the second day,” Lucy explained. “It’s only going to get worse tomorrow and, if we can stymie the fever, it will abate and she will make it.”

“Soap, alert Keller now. Bring me rags and a fresh pitcher of water.” You turned your head towards the voice and tried to see past your swimming vision. A delicate touch stilled you and you let out a slow, rattling exhale.

“My lord, if you stay, you risk the security of this nation,” Lucy said quietly. What? What on earth did she mean by that? A calloused thumb rubbed along your cheekbone and you let your eyes fall shut as exhaustion began to claim you once more. You nestled closer to the comforting touch and it stilled for just a moment before resuming.

“I had the fever as a child,” Simon explained to your maid. “And if my wife is brave enough to sit with the sick, then I must be too. Go rest. I will watch her for a bit.”

She meant to protest, but one look at her king made her change her mind. He wasn’t even looking at her, but rather his entire focus was on you. He had charged into the room looking like something fresh out of war when he saw your weakened from sprawled out on the bed. Lucy had been doing her best to provide symptom relief and to lower your fever, but she was exhausted too. Sir MacTavish took hold of the maid’s arm and gently led her to a spare room on the floor so she could rest, quarantine, and regain her strength.

When the fever broke three days later, you opened your eyes to find the hulking form of your husband crushed into the tiny chair he had drawn up next to your bed. One of his rough, calloused hands wrapped around your wrist and you realized with a start that he was checking your pulse. As your heart race increased, his eyes opened. He wore a different mask than usual, just a simple black fabric that bridged across his nose and hid the lower half of his face. It revealed a few scars that marred his temple and you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching out and smoothing the tips of your fingers over the puffy skin. He caught your wrist and you quickly realized your place and started to pull away, but he shook his head and merely drew your hand up to touch the silky blond hair he usually kept hidden from you.

It should be laughable to you. The first time your husband saw you in your nightclothes, in your bed, unmade and unraveled, and it was because you fell ill. This was the first time he had been in your room and it wasn’t for the expected production of an heir.

One of his hands came up to cradle your cheek and the other wet a cloth before dabbing it against your brow. You found that there were no words to say anything. Instead, you merely shut your eyes and let him care for you.

Things changed after that. Gone were the days spent in the company of only Lucy. Now you couldn’t make your way through the castle or the village without someone accompanying you. The villagers greeted you warmly and offered you fresh baked bread or holiday treats. When the first snow fell, you and Lucy found yourself ganged up on by some of the village kids in what turned into an all-out snowball war. Laughter rang out in the courtyard as you dashed around the bend of one of the stables to avoid a well-aimed snowball. Lucy had been tackled by some of the smaller kids and succumbed to them piling on her with shrieks of laughter and giggles echoing off the stone. You could hear some of the older kids coming towards your hiding location and you quickly turned around the corner only to land against a firm, unyielding chest.

Before you could say anything, a hand came up to cover your mouth and your husband raised a finger to his lips. He stepped away from you and bent down to scoop up a handful of snow and pack it into a perfect sphere. By the time the kids emerged from their hiding places, the two of you had a nice pile of ammo growing.

“You dare threaten the Queen?” Simon boomed in an overly exaggerated voice. As you pelted the kids with snow, Simon lunged and scooped up one of the smaller children who erupted into shrieks and giggles. Your heart seized at the sight of one of the world’s strongest warriors gently carrying this child. In all of your time here, you had never seen one of the rumors of the Riley clan come true. They were not vicious or cruel. They were good, kind people. They were as good as their king.

The parents came to collect their children and haul them back inside to warm up. It sounded like a good idea to you as snow dripped down the back of your cloak and soaked your dress. Lucy was off talking to Sir MacTavish, or Soap as he asked to be called, so you started to head inside alone. As you stepped out from the stable, a shiver wracked through your body and then a heavy fabric draped over your shoulder and settled across your body. You looked up to find your husband in a staring contest with one of the horses and you looked down at his cloak that now graced your body. A shy smile bloomed across your lips and you slipped your hand out of the bundle of fabric to seek out his.

“Would you like to join me in the library for some hot tea after we get out of these wet clothes?” His eyes darkened at your words and, afraid you overstepped, you started to draw your hand back when his fingers entwined with yours.

“I’ll have the cooks make hot cocoa,” he said in that rough, rich voice of his.

After a quick change into something dry and comfortable, you made your way down the hall to the library. You hadn’t been in here for at least a week due to being inundated with preparation for the solstice celebrations. Holly hung from shelves and crevices. Warm fur and soft knitted blankets lined the seating area. A tray of sweets and cocoa sat on the low table between the two sofas. A crackling fire jumped and danced within the hearth and beside it, a momma cat with her (now) adolescent kittens slumbered lazily by the warmth.

And standing by the window, watching the snow fall down, was your husband. He turned when he heard the door open and offered you a small smile.

Oh.

A smile.

He wore no mask.

“You were the one that scared me half to death that night,” you blurted out. He ducked his head, almost bashful, and nodded.

“My apologies, once again.”

You stepped closer to him and took a solid look at him in the light of day. You reached up and touched the edge of his lip, right where that nasty scar bisected his smile. There were stories of the old king of this land, stories that you wished desperately weren’t true, but you were afraid of their veracity. This scar wasn’t obtained from battle, you figured. But rather his father.

“You’re so handsome,” you breathed, truth in your words. His eyes watched you carefully as you ran your fingers along every one of his features, as though you could commit the touch of him to memory. When you first learned you would be marrying the King of the Riley lands, you were scared. Was he some snarling beast of a man? Would he take and take and take until there was nothing left of you?

No, you whispered to your past self. He was nothing like the rumors and everything like the man you dreamed you would marry. He was kind and gentle. He cared deeply, so deeply that it etched into every fiber of his being. He read literature, he took care of cats, he loved seeing his people experience joy, and he-

He kissed you as though he was a drowning man taking his first breath in a long time. You raised your chin to beckon him closer and curled yourself into his large frame. There was no fear in your mind or body, not when Simon was here. His large palm settled low on your back and pulled you flush against him, eliciting a tiny moan from you. You could feel his desire grow against you and you pulled away with a gasp.

“I have been a terrible husband,” he murmured and pressed his forehead against yours. You breathed him in and slid your hands up and over his broad, strong chest, his biceps, his shoulders, and into his hair. You tugged the strands gently and he groaned, his lips leaving open mouthed kisses along your jaw.

“I misjudged you, dear wife.” His hands slid down to grasp your ass and you whimpered, your heated fleshing erupting with desire. “I had no idea how precious you would be to me, to my people.”

“I fear we were both wrong about each other,” you gasped out. He picked you up with ease and left the library, turning right instead of left towards your room. For the first time, you were entering his room.

“Let me make it up to you, my love. Let me atone for every day I have left you without knowing how truly worthy you are.”

The maids and ladies of the court had gossiped about how it hurts, but they didn’t speak of what pleasure it could bring. He practically drove you mad from the way he drew you apart and made you snap. He took you apart over and over again only to bring you back together with such a gentle touch that you couldn’t believe that he was yours.

Four months after your nuptials, your husband finally laid you to bed and claimed you as his. But he waited until you breathed your assent against his lips, until you begged him to take you, until you claimed him as yours too. And when you finally collapsed against his sweaty, heaving chest, you waited for him to get up and walk out as so many women told you that their husbands do. But he merely slid his arm around your waist and drew you into his chest, his hand settling over the soft skin of your stomach.

“I have always been scared at the prospect of being a father,” he admitted. His words were stilted and slow, as if he had to consider each one carefully before he said them. You stroked your fingers through his hair and drew his knuckles to your lips so you could pepper kisses along the calluses of war that remained there.

“I’m not,” you said.

“Not what?”

Your eyes met his and he curled his fingers around your jaw, guiding you to meet his lips in a sweet kiss. When you broke apart, merely a hairbreadth away, you spoke. “I’m not afraid. I can be brave for the both of us.”

You nestled your face against his bare chest and hummed softly. His hand stroked along your bare waist, not in desire, but solely as a means to touch you in pure devotion. Your words seemed to stun him, but he regained his wits and leaned down to kiss your temple.

“If you don’t bring me those cookies, dear husband, I’m afraid I will never speak to you again,” you said, cracking one eye open to look at him. A brilliant smile spread across his lips and he hopped up, throwing on some pants so he didn’t scar any guards walking down the hall. You sat up to watch his toned body disappear through the door and bit your lip as want pulsed through your veins.

That night, you didn’t return to your bedroom. You wouldn’t have been able to, you mused, not with the sheer weight and muscle of your husband wrapped around you. But you didn’t mind. Here, in his bed, you didn’t feel the same emptiness or cold that seeped into your bones when you were alone in yours.

Spring brought new life to the world. You sat out in the gardens and plucked some weeds that threatened to overtake your herbs. The kitten from the library, now a full grown cat but definitely still a kitten in your eyes, lounged lazily at your feet. Lucy worked on embroidering something that you pointedly didn’t ask if it was for her wedding night. Because she and Soap refused to announce that they were betrothed even though you all had bets on it. That is precisely why they wouldn’t say, you figured. Brats.

Soap and Simon and Sir Garrick (Gaz, you reminded yourself) were off with a few other knights on a hunting party and also a reconnaissance mission. Word had it that a faction from a neighboring country was looking to cause trouble. Shadows, they were called, due to their ability to just appear and disappear into the forests.

The captain of his guard, John Price, stayed behind to protect the castle. John was a nice man, older than both you and Simon, but he was a good leader and an even better fighter. The knights listened to him and there were times that Simon went to him for advice on matters of state. You trusted John.

So when he approached you that day in the garden with a troubled look on his face, you knew to listen.

“Your Majesty, I have reports of movement on the western quadrant. I’ve dispatched a rider to inform the King, but I am about to place us on lockdown. I need you to come with me.”

Lucy was up before you could even begin to stand and she quickly helped you to your feet and guided you towards the castle. You knew that you needed to keep a serene, calm expression on your face so as not to incite panic. You hated that you were going into hiding when your people would be caught in the crossfire.

“How far is Simon?”

“About two hours away.”

A lot could happen in two hours. A siege could last days or the walls could fall within minutes. You inhaled deeply as you followed him through the winding maze of the castle halls. Time and experience had made you quick to learn the routes through here and hopefully, it would confuse an intruder.

John led you to a small room hidden under the stairs in the servants quarters and offered a reassuring smile. “It’s nothing but a precaution, my lady. But do not leave this room unless the King or I come for you.”

He overestimated your ability to sit quietly and listen to your people die. These so-called Shadows felt no remorse in taking down innocent people. Lucy had to practically sit on you and cover your mouth as you trembled with rage. Hurried footsteps sounded all around you as servants rushed about and knights set up barriers and mounted defenses.

It wasn’t enough.

They attacked at the beginning of spring, when people were lax from the winter feasts and lack of physical work due to being kept inside by the cold and snow. They knew this was when you would be weakest and that’s why they exploited it. 

Fear lapped at your stomach and you shut your eyes as a pained cry ripped through the servants quarters. No, you couldn’t do this. The Shadows weren’t after them. They were after you.

You shoved Lucy back and forced open the door, coming face to face with a knight in black armor. He raised his blade but hesitated when he took in the sight of the circlet that adorned your head. With a chuckle, he raised his helmet and revealed his smarmy face.

“How do you do, Your Majesty? Name’s Graves.”

“Go to hell,” you spat.

The knight dragged you out of the castle with little protest on your end. Servants peered around the corner of walls and furniture as you strode past, but they were safe. Now that the Shadows had their hands on one of the monarchs, they no longer needed to target the people. More of the Shadows fell in behind the two of you and you were glad to pull them away from terrorizing your family. Your friends. Your citizens.

“Your Majesty,” an older man greeted. “I wish we met under better circumstances. Herschel Shepherd.”

“Fuck you,” was your simple reply. The man chuckled and then backhanded you hard enough to split your lip thanks to his thick signet ring. The Shadows spread out in a circle around the three of you, blocking anyone from rushing to your rescue.

“You know why we’re here then,” Shepherd said. Graves yanked you back into a standing position and forced your chin up so you had to look the man in the eye. You simply rolled your eyes and glared at him, your hands bunching in the fabric of your skirt.

“I know you’re a coward. And pathetic.” Another smack to the other side of the face had you tasting blood.

“I know the King probably likes your pretty mouth, but I’m getting tired of it. You know what I want.”

“I won’t do it.”

“Then I’ll slaughter your entire village.”

Your chest tightened because it wasn’t an empty threat and you knew it. You had heard the reports of other villages and countries. You had heard the stories of what they had done to women and children and men.

“Will you do it yourself? Or make your men do it so you can go to bed every night lying to yourself that your a good man?”

His eyes flashed with something dangerous but you didn’t flinch. Rather, you curled your lips into a sneer and spat directly into his face. He grabbed your jaw, hard enough to force your teeth together with a painful clack, and dragged you to face him. His grip shifted down and around your throat, cutting off your air.

“I should kill you. I should. But once I get you to submit and renounce the crown, I’ll keep you around. Looks like Riley hasn’t laid his seed yet so I’ll let Graves do it. I’ll make sure that no matter how hard you try, you’ll have the heir to the Shadows. You’ll be our whore. Our bitch.”

You struggled against his hold and kicked out, connecting with his shin. He released you but Graves grabbed your arms and pinned them back, securing them with rope, before he pressed on the back of your knees.

“Kneel,” Graves hissed.

“Make me,” you snarled. You just needed to buy some more time. You just needed to-

No. Lucy was thrown into the mud next to you, her hands bound behind her back. She was breathing deeply and you could see her wince with every movement. Broken rib, maybe two, you cataloged. Those bastards.

“Kneel and I won’t kill her,” Shepherd commanded. Your heart pounded painfully against your chest as you slowly, slowly knelt down in the mud. He grinned, an awful and predatory smile, and yanked the circlet out of your hair.

“Look at your queen!” Shepherd boomed. “Come out and see how she prostrates herself before her new ruler. It’s alright now. You all are saved.”

Villagers peeked out of their houses and saw the spectacle before them. The Shadows parted to reveal you to the crowds in a mud-stained dress, crown gone, and bruises already forming on your face. A noise rang out in the village, some kind of holler. Shepherd’s smile widened.

“Yes, yes. Gone are the days of eating scraps while your ruler lives in riches,” he called. “Come see for yourself. She’s merely human.”

You bowed your head to look at Lucy and check over her. That’s what you told yourself, at least. You didn’t want to see the truth. You waited for the derision, the sneers, for the anger they surely felt at your failure to keep them safe. You waited for the rage to rain down upon you.

It never came.

A roar, no, a battle cry swept through the village and then they were descending en masse. No amount of armor or training could save the Shadows from the pure, violent rage of your people. You raised your head to see Fiona jab a pitchfork through a knight’s neck and let out a breathless laugh.

Chaos reigned. You wrenched yourself over Lucy’s body and pressed your cheek against your dear friends, listening to her labored breathing below and the sounds of war above. What if a horse struck you? Or a blade stabbed you in the back? What if a Shadow grabbed you and made for the forest? What if, what if, what if?

Someone grabbed your bicep and you kicked back, but a familiar voice calmed you instantly. “It’s me, m’lady!” John shouted. He sliced through your bonds and did the same for Lucy. You turned and saw that he was in a dreadful fucking state. Blood practically caked every inch of his armor and exposed skin.

“We need to get you out of here,” he ordered.

“And go where?” you retorted. “Give me a knife, sir, and watch me cut out every tongue of the men who dare harm my people.”

“Where is my wife?” Simon’s roaring voice erupted over the din. The villagers stopped their rabid attacks as the King’s Guard swept into the walls of the city. You nearly wept in relief at the sight of the masked figure atop the pure black horse. He looked as thought he were the Grim Reaper himself, but death would not touch you today.

Rage filled his very veins when he saw you, battered and bleeding and standing in the middle of carnage. He jumped down from his steed and pushed through the crowd to you. Blood caked your hair and dripped down your forehead and for a moment, he was terrified it was yours.

“Are you hurt?” His armor was cold where it touched your cheek and you shook your head, reconsidered, and then nodded.

“But not as bad as Lucy or others. I need to get to the healers room. I need to help them,” you pleaded. Soap had dismounted and rushed to join you when he saw Lucy and he knelt next to her now, gentle hands probing against her broken ribs.

“Where is he?” Simon snarled. “Where is Shepherd?”

“Right here, sir,” Fiona announced. He turned to find the farmer’s wife with her foot planted on the man’s chest and her pitchfork digging into the exposed skin of his neck. “Lou’s got the slimy bastard too. No one hurts our queen. No one.”

Affection squeezed your heart so tightly you feared you would break down and weep right there. These people, this nation, had adopted you and loved you unlike any other. You were a mere princess married to their king for an alliance but to them, you were their queen by merit alone.

“Round up any of the Shadows that remain,” Ghost ordered. “Leave Shepherd to me.”

You knew he would kill him. In fact, you knew he would torture him. But that didn’t scare you. Simon’s hands didn’t leave you until you were finally pulled away to aid with healing. There were bodies to prepare for burial, items to repair, people to hold as they grieved.

A queen’s job was never done. You wouldn’t give it up for anything.

In the quiet of the night, when the injured were sleeping peacefully thanks to droughts and pain relief, you slipped out of the healer’s quarters and found Simon leaning against the wall. He raised his head when he heard you step out and his tired eyes shut in relief.

“You should be sleeping,” you chastised. He shook his head and removed his mask, baring himself to you.

“I close my eyes and I see your corpse,” he admitted. “John informed me as to what you did. Sacrifice yourself.”

“I did what I had to do to keep them safe.”

He tipped his head back against the wall, exposing the smooth column of his throat and the way his throat bobbed with every labored breath. “I know. Fuck, I know. But I am a selfish enough man to admit that I would have rather you remained untouched.”

“I can be replaced. Our people cannot.”

He screwed his eyes shut and covered his mouth with his hand. Simon inhaled deeply, as if calming himself, and shook his head. “Don’t say that. Don’t ever fucking say that.”

“Say what?”

“That you can be replaced. You are not some expendable object. You are not some figurehead I can stuff a new body into. You are…you are exquisite. You are magnificent. Our people would rather die than ever lose you, do you understand that?” His armor creaked and groaned in protest but this man, this king, kneeled before you and fisted the fabric of your dirty, blood-stained gown in his hands and pressed his face against your stomach.

“Never say that,” he begged. “Please, I cannot bear to hear you say that in my presence again.”

“Simon.” Was that tears you saw in his eyes? “Look at me.” Truly, it was tears that lined his honey brown eyes. You swept your thumb across his lashes and gathered the salty tear on your skin. Leaning down, you pressed your forehead to his and breathed him in.

“What can I do to make you understand?” His voice was hoarse and thick with emotion.

“Nothing. I understand.” Exhaustion sank into your bones and dragged you down into his arms. He cradled you against him and hauled you up with ease. The day’s events were catching up to you quickly and you wished for the sun to rise again, simply so you could move past the blood that was caked on your skin.

He carried you all the way to his -- your shared -- room and set you on the ground before a bath of steaming water. Simon undressed you carefully, peeling off each layer as if you would dissolve once he reached your chemise, and then settled you into the tub. He stripped off his armor, his underclothes, and settled in behind you. His fingers etched their devotion with every gentle pass of soap against your skin and he took your hand in his to scrub the blood out from under your nails.

“Lucy?” Your tired voice sounded foreign to you, like another person was speaking.

“Soap’s with her. She’ll make a full recovery, just in time for the wedding.” A soft smile curled at his lips and you tilted your head back to rest against his shoulder. His lips traced along the cuts that Shepherd’s hands left and he removed the pain with a simple kiss.

“I’m sorry,” you finally said. You could feel his frown against the skin of your neck and he took a deep breath before asking what you meant.

“I lied to you. I’m afraid.”

“Oh my love.” He kissed your shoulder. “I was afraid too.”

“No, Simon, I wasn’t afraid before. I knew you would come. I knew that, whatever happened to me, you would avenge me. That didn’t scare me. It’s what is to come.”

You drew one of his hands away from the side of the tub and rested it on your stomach, above the slight swell that Alex confirmed earlier was indeed the next heir to the Riley throne. Simon’s breath hitched against your neck and then he fell silent. You shut your eyes and waited for his condemnation at your foolish actions today. You could threaten your own life all you wanted, but the heir?

“Simon?” Fear laced your voice and he hated that he put it here. He pressed his cheek to your hair and stroked his thumb against your stomach.

“I was content to rip out one of his lungs,” Simon murmured in your ear. “But now I have two reasons to remove both entirely. He threatened the life of my queen, my love, and he threatened the life of my heir.”

You exhaled a shaky breath and felt a smile grow on your face. He tapped your hip and you stood, letting the water slough off of you and back into the water that was now a mix of mud and blood. Simon took his time drying you off, leaving lingering kisses on every part of your body. Your shoulders, breasts, stomach, hips, even your calves received an equal measure of love. As he knelt at your feet once more, you cupped his face in your hands and pulled his gaze up to meet yours. He settled his chin on your stomach and looked at you with so much adoration.

“Are you afraid?”

His smile grew. “No, for I know you will be brave enough for both of us. And you, my little wife, have the bravery of a lioness.”

[pizzapranks]

Indiepocalypse is a monthly anthology of indie games curated and delivered straight to you!

Each release features games from 10 developers (including a newly commissioned game!) and a companion zine. Focusing on smaller-scale/no-budget indie games, Indiepocalypse highlights games that are shorter, personal, experimental, and otherwise an alternative to AAA and mainstream indie space.

My goal is the help bring more attention to the indie game scene I love and support them however I can. Did you know that all contributors to Indiepocalypse are paid upon acceptance and are paid royalties? Because they are!

If you're looking to explore the exciting world of underground indie games, Indiepocalypse is a great entry point to this world and it's exciting creators! (also a great way to find creators you may have missed if you already explore said world)

You can buy it or check out the games here!

I also sell Indiepocalypse physically in a cool USB sticks inside cassette cases format! (tower of which is pictured below)

Lastly, (I promise) if you're an indie dev, submissions for Indiepocalypse are always open!

[httpscomexe]

Ballroom Dance

Day 2 of Kink-Tober - Blindfolds

Summary: You’re a princess, and part time baker. Or rather the other way around, and you somehow find yourself in Loki Laufeysons hands.

(Find What I’m currently writing by checking my pinned post)

Parings: Loki x Reader

Warnings: (Lmk if I missed any) PV sex, mentions of forced marriage, blindfold kink.

Tags: @cellyx33 @foxherder @shybluebirdninja

Word Count: 1831 (Find my Kink-Tober list here)

P.S. If you would like to be added to the Kink-Tober tag list, just let me know.

“Okay and would that be it?” The lady before you nods, letting go of her child’s hand for a moment to reach into her pocket, presumably for change. “Ma’am, we don’t accept any forms of payment.” She looks up. Stunned.

“Well then how do I pay for the food?” She asks, her eyes watching as your friend reaches over your shoulder, a brown paper bag in his hand that he sets on the counter in front of the woman.

“You have a nice day ma’am.” He walks away, moving to make the next costumers order.

“This isn’t earth ma’am. This is Asgard. You don’t have to pay to survive.” She smiles, some hope in her eyes as she thanks you and takes the bag, leading her children out of the bakery. “Good morning sir, what could I get for you?” You tap on your screen, making sure to mark inventory before your eyes look up and land on the bluest eyes you’ve ever seen. A man stands in front of you, a menu in his hand. His black hair tied into a messy bun, he was wearing light armuor, you assume he’s from the castle. And when he looks up, you know he is.

“Good morning milady.” His voice is butter smooth.

“Goodmorning… Prince Laufeyson.” You try not to stutter. Managing it horribly. It wasn’t often you see the royalty of Asgard, let alone one of the princes. Especially Loki Laufeyson. He didn’t seem the type to stop by the bakery in the morning. “What can I make for you?”

“I’m not too sure…” He tells you, setting down the menu. “I was wanting something crème filled. Something simple… maybe glazed.” He looks into your eyes finally, and you tense slightly.

“Alright.” You point to some words on the menu in front of him. “If you’d like something simple, do you like Boston crème?” You ask.

“Isn’t that something from earth?”

“Yes. Sorry.”

“Sorry? Why apologise?”

“I don’t know I just- sorry…” you chuckle awkwardly. “If you’d prefer an Asgardian delicacy-“

“What would you have? If you were looking for what I’m looking for I mean.”

“I would get the Boston Crème… With the white icing.”

“I’ll try that.”

“Alright, give me one moment.” You tell him, backing away from the counter and checking behind him. He was the last in line, making it possible for you to prepare his bag of food.

You head to the back, spotting your friend again. “Do you have any Boston Crème filled with white icing?”

“Over there, just finished a bunch.” He tells you, nodding towards a counter where there was a heater keeping the fresh batch of donuts warm.

“Thanks dude.” You grab a pair of gloves, only putting the rubber on your right hand to grab his donut and wrap it before stuffing it in a brown bag. “Laufeyson is at the front counter.” You tell him moving to another counter to grab a bag sticker.

“Really? Like Loki?”

“No not like Loki, it is Loki.” You whisper, as if he would hear you from the back.

“Prince Loki Laufeyson is here and he orders a Boston crème with white icing?”

“It was my suggestion.” You grin as he looks back at you, slapping the sticker on the bag before holding it up as if to showcase your work before leaving the back room. You eyes immediately finding the Prince, along with another costumer smiling at your entrance.

“Here you are, Laufeyson. Have a wonderful day.” You hand him the bag, and he nods in thank you.

“You as well, princess.” You watch as he leaves, completely forgetting the costumer at the counter as you stare at him. Yea, it seemed creepy. But Loki Laufeyson just referred to you as princess. Of course you wanted to bask in the moment.

“Y/N honey?” You snap back into reality, and quickly move back to the tablet at the counter. “He’s a wonder to look at, isn’t he?”

“Oh he sure is…” You chuckle, a little crush forming in your chest. “Same as usual Mrs. Lorry?”

Yea. You’re a baker. As a matter of fact, you own the bakery. It was your home away from home.

“Y/N! You’ve spent all day at that dreaded bakery again?” Your fathers voice beams with anger, and you hear his flat shoes tread down the hall. An exhausted sigh leaving your lips as you look to the floor, awaiting his presence as he turns the corner, your eyes meeting his before moving down. A royal robe wrapped around his body, and he reeks of perfume and cologne. You assume he was bathing before hearing of your arrival.

“Hey dad-“

“Look at you!” He sounds horrified as he steps in front of you, signaling at your clothes. “You’re not a baker, you’re a princess!”

“I’m both.”

“No! I cannot tolerate this anymore!”

“Look, is there something important you needed to tell me? Or did you just want to judge my side job?”

“Ugh…” he pinches the bridge of his nose, looking down at the floor, his beard scrunching up as his forearm crunches it. “You have a visitor.” He tells you, looking back up and fixing his robe, making sure it was still secure around his body. You were thankful it was, as well as your eyes.

“Who?”

“I’m not sure, I had the guards make him wait in your room.” He tells you, and you groan internally.

“Why would you-“

“Just go see whom it is. You don’t get many visitors.” He tells you, turning as he walks back to his room, a rushed step as he does, clearly hurried.

“Yea that’s cause you banned anyone from seeing me!” You shout, and the sound of his doors closing was enough to make your eyes roll. Great. You head towards your own room. The door is closed, so you take out your key and stick it in the knob you’ve had the guards install. Yea you got visitors, but some of them weren’t exactly friendly. You reminisce on a few incidents, cringing at some, and shuddering at others.

You push your door open, and your balcony door is open, allowing wind to blow in from the outside as a figure turns to look at you, you gasp a little.

Loki Laufeyson.

“Well I knew you were beautiful, but I didn’t know you were actually a princess.” He tells you, his fingers laced behind his back as he walks towards you, and you flick a light on the wall, moving a little slider on the box to dim the light slightly. Your head throbbing already from a long day, you weren’t prepared for this.

“Prince Laufeyson. You’re in my bedroom.”

“I am aren’t I?” He asks your question, his eyes searching your body.

“Yes, you are.” You tell him, annoyance in your voice as you approach your bed, putting your bag on your bed before opening it, taking out a second bag. A brown paper one from your bakery.

“Little late for a sweet treat isn’t it?”

“Its never too late for something sweet.”

“Is that so?” His voice suddenly changes, and his hand rests on your lower back, causing your voice to break in your throat, almost painfully.

“I guess everyone has a different appetite.” He mumbles, his hands moving to hold your waist from behind. Your eyes squint in confusion. You’ve almost never seen this man, but yet here he was. Touching you.

“Laufeyson?”

“Shh…” His breath fans over your skin, his hands gently gliding over your skin under your little dress. “Do you like to dance?” You nod a little, and he takes your hand. “Let’s find the ballroom then darling.” He leads you out of the room without another word, letting the heavy door close behind your bodies as he drags you through the empty hallways, easily finding the ballroom doors and the lights make your head throb.

“My head hurts, and the light, I-“

“I can fix that.” He stops you from speaking, and he turns you around as soon as you’re both standing in the centre of the grand room. Letting you go as he reaches into his pocket, and the next thing you see is green darkness, a pine coloured blindfold now draped over your eyes, and he reaches behind your head, tying it in a knot.

“There darling, now let’s dance.” He tells you, grabbing your waist and your hand as he begins to sway you.

“But I can’t see-“ You reach up, attempting to remove the blindfold from your eyes, but he stops you.

“You don’t need to see darling, let me lead.” He leans down, whispering in your ear as he begins to dance, making you nervous, but he’s right. You don’t need to see as he leads.

You can feel the smirk he has, leaning down as he presses a kiss to your cheek, his arm pulling you more against his body.

You feel slightly embarrassed, but he keeps you slowly dancing.

“Who knew I’d be dancing with a donut girl…?”

“I don’t understand how you knew I’m a princess?”

“Can’t deny royal beauty.” He tells you plainly, moving his arm to twirl you.

“And why are you here?”

“Your father chose me to marry you. He didn’t tell you?” What…?

You try to remove your blindfold, but his hands stop you again as you stop the dance.

“Loki- I’m not-“

“Quiet darling. It’s alright.” He gently brushes some of your hair out of your face.

Then he kisses your lip, gently biting and pulling before kissing you again, with much more passion.

And you give in.

Letting your lips move against his. Your eyes close uselessly, already covered by the blindfold as his hands move to cup your ass. You feel him walk as he lifts you against his body, making you wrap your legs around his waist, then you feel a wall against your back, his lips never leaving yours as his hands move between your bodies, and the sound of a zipper being pulled down fills your senses. You panic slightly and he feels it, gently cupping your face as his lips leave yours, and find the skin of your neck.

“You’re alright darling…” He whispers, moving you until he was able to hook his fingers through your lace panties, quickly removing them. Leaving you in your only your dress. “Just breathe…”

He pushes into you suddenly, without warning. Emitting a moan from your lips as he starts moving inside of you, your walls tight around his member.

“You’re definitely a princess…” He whispers, a new whimper coming from your throat.

“Loki…” You moan his name as he slowly thrusts into you, your foreheads landing on each other before his head tilts to capture your lips again, his hand moving down, and he presses his thumb onto your clit, rubbing circles around your bud.

“You better never tell me you don’t want this…”

[thegamingcatmom]

Vampire!AU where Mother Miranda takes you as her bride.

...

That is all.

.

.

.

JK-

Right so:

Miranda is obv. the Vampire Queen or whatever.

Alcina and her daughters are vampires too, obv.

So are the maids that were canonically experimented on. (Miranda gotta have some numbers.)

Since we got vampires in there, we also gotta have werewolves, right?

-> Enter Heisenberg and his lycans.

Sal is the butler (aka: The heart and soul of the house, bless him).

Donna is...a mystery.

"The Mold" is basically Miranda´s nest

Eva is alive and kicking.

And a vampire too.

She can be...scary.

Just like Momma.

The "vessel" operation is still going strong. However-

It´s her long deceased wife Miri´s trying to bring back.

Reincarnation style, if you will.

Uhhh, what else...OH-

The villagers are under some sort of vampiric mind control (aka the mold?) that allows Miranda and her coven to feed on them undisturbed.

-> Enter MC (aka The Disturbance).

aka: The bane and salvation of Miranda´s existence.

Miranda is hooked right away for obv. reasons (points to the aforementioned wife thing).

(Eva will be overjoyed to learn her Mama has returned.)

She must have MC.

Their wedding shall be a grand celebration for the whole village to see.

A celebration fit for royalty, as it should-

MC: "Uhhh...excuse me?"

Miranda: *gradually snaps out of her frenzied inner monologue to blink at MC with a mix of confusion and reverence*

MC: "I´m looking for a dude called Heisen...*checks her palm* ...bur-BERG. HeisenBERG. Do you know where I can find him, by chance?"

Miranda: *slow blinking*

MC: *slow blinking too*

Miranda: *remembers this is her soon-to-be bride*

Miranda: "Ah...forgive my...manners. *awkward smile cause being nice is indeed quite awkward, bride or not*...Heisenberg, you say? Why, yes...I am quite familiar with that...man."

Miranda: *fights back an instinctive hiss! cause werewolf*

...

MC: "...O-kay...? Can you tell me where I can find him, then?"

Miranda: *slow blinking*

MC: *slow blinking too*

Miranda, getting sus: "...And to what possible end, if I might ask?"

MC: *tf is that question*

MC, getting annoyed: "...Because I asked...?"

Miranda: *eye starts twitching as she fights back the urge to lash out at the sheer audacity-*

Miranda: *...soon.to.be.bride*

...

Miranda: "...Of course... *dark fake chuckle*...You shall find him in that factory of his. *points down the road* Follow this trail until it splits, then proceed to the right, where you will come across a large windmill. From there, it is rather impossible to miss."

Miranda, under her breath: "Unfortunately..."

MC, who is totally not weirded out by now: "...Okay...thanks. Uh...cya around?"

Miranda: *wedding bells*

Miranda: *satisfied smile starts spreading*

Miranda: "Hm...cya, indeed..."

MC: "..."

Miranda: "..."

MC: *slowly turns around and continues down the road*

Miranda: "...Little bat?"

MC: *stops in her tracks*

MC: *hesitantly turns around cause, despite being the only other person present besides Strange Lady, she still doubts whether that nickname was actually meant for her cause...whut?*

MC: "...Yes?"

Miranda: *satisfied smile becomes even more satisfied because her term of endearment has been accepted*

Miranda: *turns serious all of a sudden*

Miranda, doing her vampire compelling thing: "...Tell me."

MC, without hesitation: "He´s my uncle."

...

Miranda:

.

.

.

This was supposed to be a sexy vampire thing and then it turned into reincarnation & vampires vs werewolves with MC in the middle of it all cause our girl might just be the only one capable of uniting their worlds and ending a war that has been raging for centuries.

(Could this war have anything to do with a certain someone dying at the hands of a certain someone else? Good question. 🤔)

And it all starts with a (rather questionable) marriage.

THAT IS ALL.

.

This post was brought to you by The Invitation - a (rather poorly made) movie about vampires.

.

.

.

EDIT:

NO BUT LISTEN-

Miranda going "I'll take what is due", just like she did in Resi Village? Except what is "due" is her wife, who died at the hands of one of the lycans? Or even Heisenberg himself??

Miranda going "I've waited so long for you..." when she meets MC, just like she did in Shadows of Rose when she met Rose??

THOUGHTS FEELS IDEAS 😭

(Dammit, I might actually have to write it now cause I am OBSESSED. 😩🤌)

[genericpuff]

I caught up with LR and I love Hades freaking out over liking Persephone and trying to find reasons to stop but it makes me really sad because he's so unused to happiness and kindness that he freaks out over the first signs of both. Part of what drew me to LO at first was the journey Hades went through, going from miserable and pushing away anything that made him happy to accepting that he can be happy and it's okay. I'm glad that's showing up here as well and I can't wait to see where you take Hades' character growth.

I really love all the characters in LR. More fleshed out than LO, more accurate to the myths and character stereotypes they fall into. Hera certainly acts more like royalty, Hestia seems genuinely kind, stuff like that. I like the story line better and I like how Apollo is characterized so far. The build up in Kore and Apollo's relationship is done so much better than LO and I can't wait to see where you take the relationship.

It looks like I can leave comments on Dillyhub. Is that where you prefer to get positive feed back or do you prefer asks like this?

Aw thanks so much! Writing Hades is definitely fun, I know all too well that feeling of arguing with your own emotions, especially when it's concerning matters of the heart, so writing Hades' own struggles and perspectives in that way is very entertaining. I also personally just love writing male characters with Big Feelings(tm) regardless of whether or not they're capable of communicating those feelings (Hades definitely isn't there yet LOL) Guys are capable of feeling giddy / bashful / emotionally overwhelmed too and I feel like we don't see that enough in a lot of romance stories these days. He's got a lot to unpack but we're taking it slow so that neither he nor the audience get overwhelmed LOL All in due time though !!!

To answer your closing question - I'm usually checking notifications at least a couple times a day on Tumblr, reddit, and Dillyhub, so honestly, where you want to leave feedback or your theories / ideas / speculation / etc. is completely up to you! There are a variety of ways to interact with my work, either directly through the comment section on either Tumblr or DH, or indirectly through the #lore rekindled hashtag or the /r/LoreOlympusRekindled subreddit ! (which exists now thanks to some very cool fans!) We also have a community Discord if you want to discuss your theories 'n such with other readers 🤗💖

[writtenbyshama]

Long Way Home [Part I]

[Azriel x Reader fanfic]

Synopsis: Y/n is the daughter of a healer in the city of Velaris. After a small incident, she moves to the House of the Wind to work for the High Lord, Rhysand. Everyone in the house seems to welcome her except Azriel, the second in command. Even though he is just blankly polite and does not acknowledge her much, she can't help but fall for him. Does Azriel return her feelings or remain unfeelingly aloof?

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Part I

My first glimpse of Azriel had been when he arrived at my doorstep, searching for the High Lord. 

My father was famous in Velaris as a healer, and Rhysand had crashed through the front door—heavily injured and seeking the services of him. Unfortunately for him, I was alone in the house as father had gone to the mountains outside Velaris for an errand. I was mainly a chemist, researching herbs, concocting potions and salves; but I had dragged the half unconscious Rhysand towards one of the beds reserved for the patients. 

His injuries were mainly on his wings, they were torn through with arrows. The said arrows seemed to be poisonous, because his skin was quickly losing its pallor. It was my first time treating someone without father by my side, but I had steadied my nerves and my hands enough to bandage the wounds appropriately. Then I made him drink a small cup of herbal antidote for the poison in his system and covered him with a blanket to rest.

As he rested, I cleared wooden splinters and pieces of the broken entrance door (Rhys had literally crashed through) and was erecting a temporary barrier of canvas when the commanders Cassian and Azriel appeared. 

Apparently Rhysand had sent them some sort of signal to indicate where he was before passing out. They were relieved to see him in a peaceful rest, and I told them that they could take him back after my father did a once over to make sure he would heal well. That meant one of them staying the night, and Azriel had volunteered to do so. 

I had noticed the royalties and members of the inner circle around the town, but it was my first encounter with any of them. Rhysand radiated an aura of pure, lethal power even when injured, and Cassian had the rough, fierce power of a wolf. 

And Azriel—well, he was the shadow incarnate, his power being in the way he observed and gathered every bit of information about anything that surrounded him. His intelligence shone through the depths of his dark eyes, drawing in anyone like a moth to candlelight. While we waited for Rhys to wake up, he carried in a new door from the carpenter's workshop and helped me affix it to the entrance. 

He was a fae of few words, politely murmuring thanks when I brought over blankets and pillows for him to sleep on the bed next to Rhysand's after dinner. He didn't lie down, instead just bundled himself against the cold with the blankets and kept a patient, quiet watch over his High Lord. 

My father returned with the first light of dawn, and Rhysand woke up a couple of hours later. After giving him a thorough check-up, father told him that he would heal perfectly without any scars. I had done everything right, and I was proud. 

This incident had led Rhysand into inviting me to the House of Wind and joining the inner circle. He was leaning heavily on Azriel's shoulder, but still had the poise of a powerful ruler as he painted a pretty picture if I accepted—having access to the limitless library, using its resources to gain knowledge in a field of interest and using it whenever needed. 

I was hesitant at first, since father would be left alone if I left, but he himself had urged me to accept the offer. In the end, I accepted it with all my heart, and moved in to the House of Wind later that week. 

When all the belongings I needed were shifted to my new quarters, I was warmly welcomed as a new member of Rhysand's household. Though I was very shy, none of them made me feel like an outsider and happily took me in, which I was grateful for. 

The library was paradise for me. Rhysand arranged for a branched off space in one of its floors to be my laboratory to experiment what I had learnt. Amren helped by bringing me the rarest or the most poisonous herbs, and she never told me how she procured them even after me begging on my knees. I began to be happier, but also more knowledgeable with new healing potions. I divided my week so I could spend at least two days with my dad and the rest in the House of the Wind. All day, I made myself useful by studying and experimenting, or assisting the royal physician in her activities. 

Dinner had to always be eaten with everybody, and it was filled with jokes (mostly Cassian), laughter (from everyone), eye rolls at the jokes (from Nesta) and quiet smiles (from Azriel). After the meal, I had to walk beside Azriel to my quarters, his being adjacent to mine. 

As days passed, I slinked out of my shell of shyness and mingled with everyone. All except Azriel, of course. I mean, he was of a quiet nature, but I felt like he disliked me. I could see smiles and chuckles and small conversations drawn out of him by everybody but me. He never himself started a conversation with me, and when I tried to do so on the way back to our quarters, he gave disinterested one-word replies. 

I told myself that it wasn't a big deal. I had other things to worry about. But when I saw him speaking with someone else in the way I wanted him to speak to me, my chest squeezed painfully. It was especially rough when I saw him catering to Elaine. 

I never showed this turmoil on my face, though. Rhysand and Feyre were mates, and her older sister Nesta was Cassian's. It made sense if Elaine was Azriel's mate. 

Why then, that just the thought of it made me sad and hopeless?

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

This fanfic can also be found in Wattpad, along with other exclusive parts like playlists and pictures. Here's the link: https://www.wattpad.com/story/358573037-long-way-home

Happy reading! <3

Read Part II here.

[bakuliwrites]

Ebb and Flow- Prince Sidon x Reader

Rating: 18+ (MINORS DNI)

Fandom: The Legend of Zelda

Relationship: Prince Sidon x Reader

Summary: “I will not accept that all we’re meant to be are star-crossed lovers,” Sidon states passionately, his tone filled with a steady resolve, “I cannot accept it. Was it not here that I pledged myself to you? And you to me? Was it not here that we promised our hearts to one another? Aren’t we more than just crossing tides?”Sidon is given earth shattering news. His duty as a Zora Prince outweighs all else. But how can he accept that when his love for you is so deep?

Tags: Female Reader, Smut, Angst, PIV, Semi-Public S*x, Outdoor S*x, Oral S*x, Shark Anatomy, Established Relationship, Star-crossed Lovers, Romance

Read here in this post or over on my AO3

DISCLAIMER: TOTK SPOILERS, 18+

Sidon wonders if he had spoken too softly. He expected some sort of reaction from you, even if it wasn’t a dramatic, soul-wrenching one. But your silence comes as a shock to him. Your unreadable gaze penetrates him from where you’re seated by the window in your quarters. Quarters he had specifically modified to house a Hylian such as yourself. Just for you. Fashioned to house you for what he thought would be forever. From the luxurious water bed on one side, where the two of you have shared so many passionate nights, to the cozy, crackling fireplace on the other- it’s all been for you, and him, and what he thought would be your future together.

“Y-you what?” you finally manage, confirming to Sidon that it wasn’t that you didn’t hear him, but that you couldn’t believe what he’d said. He hadn't wanted to tell you until he returned from his diplomatic mission, but he couldn't keep it a secret from you. Sidon's words stick to his throat. They feel barbed, razor-like, cutting his tongue on their way out.

“My father has decided- He’s arranged my marriage,” Sidon repeats, words seeping from his mouth like blood. But he tastes nothing when his tongue grazes over his lower lip, checking for a fresh wound. Still, he tastes metal, haunting and sharp. You’re bathed in moonlight, a silver gloss draping elegantly over your skin. Tonight, you appear to Sidon like an ethereal ghost, distant and untouchable, a curiously beautiful and captivating goddess. Like the moon delivered you to him and has come back this night to steal you away. 

“Not only has my father found who he considers to be a ‘suitable match’ for me, but he’s arranged the date of our meeting,” Sidon goes on, wanting to fill this deeply uncomfortable silence with something, anything, “Of our marriage.”

He trails off, glancing down at his feet and willing himself not to shed the tears that are stinging his eyes. He’s always known there was a risk that his marriage would be arranged. You aren’t Zora, you’re not royalty. It was a small chance that King Dorephan would even consider you in the running to marry Sidon. Your duty to Hyrule and Sidon’s duty to his people were always meant to clash. But he never thought it would be something to worry about this soon. His father’s decision to step down from the throne came as a shock, and the decision regarding Sidon’s marriage that much more shocking.

Your silence is killing him, gnawing at his insides, anxiety running rampant in his mind. Say something, anything. Please, he silently begs.

“When?” is all you’re able to question through your stupor. The look he gives you is grave, crestfallen.

“In less than a fortnight,” he almost whispers. He watches as your eyes fall slowly shut, as you clench your fists, your jaw. Every part of you tenses, but not out of anger. You take a deep breath and Sidon can tell you’re trying to hold in your tears. But when you exhale, they start to roll down your cheeks, dripping freely to the floor beneath. Droplets of pure moonlight shimmering as they fall. He rushes to you, scoops you into his arms, your small, Hylian form fitting so perfectly in his embrace. 

“I fought for us,” Sidon continues, as if he needs to prove to you that his love is genuine. As if you didn’t already know. Your shuddering sobs into his shoulder seem to shake the very foundation beneath you.  

“I fought so hard for us,” he whimpers, holding you closer, tighter, as if he were to let go, the moon would finally take you back to your celestial throne, “But my father wouldn’t agree. He wouldn’t- No matter how much I protested. How much I argued and debated-” 

“It’s okay,” you manage through tears, littering Sidon’s face with kisses, “I know you fought. I know you tried as hard as you could.”  

Sorrow blooms in every facet of your irises as you stare into Sidon’s gilded ones. If his heart hadn’t shattered in its entirety before, it certainly does now. He opens his mouth to say more, but he realizes he’s not even sure what he wants to say. He can’t reassure you. He can’t even reassure himself. 

A knock at your door pulls him begrudgingly from this private moment. An attendant calls out to him, "Your Highness, we should leave before it gets much later."

“They can wait,” Sidon speaks, turning back towards you, not wanting to leave you after such devastating news. You smile softly, shaking your head.

“No they can’t, my darling,” you gently return. He knows it, you know it. His royal duties, his people must always come first. You’ve never quibbled with him about this, something he deeply admires about you. 

Sidon presses a deep, lingering kiss to your lips. He can taste the salt of your tears, the salt of his own. He hadn’t even realized he’d shed any until the soft pads of your thumbs wipe them from his cheeks. He gazes at you underneath his furrowed brow, memorizing the features of your lovely face. If you dissolve into moonlight while he’s gone, he would never forgive himself for not kissing you one last time. 

“Wait for me,” he breathes when he pulls back, “We'll figure this- something out.” You nod, leaning your forehead against his and closing your eyes. Desperately, Sidon wishes he didn’t have to leave. Not in the middle of such an important conversation. 

“I should be no more than a few days,” he promises, giving you one final kiss before he wrenches himself from you and reluctantly slips out of your room. He doesn’t dare look back, knowing your melancholy gaze will destroy him if he does.

***

Sidon's diplomatic meeting with the Rito was a success, though it was mostly just a formality. The Zora and Rito are already on quite friendly terms, so he wasn't too concerned in the first place. The entire trip, however, his mind was preoccupied with you, with marriage, with grief. He's mulled over every possible solution. He contemplates further arguments with his father, knowing full-well that he won’t win them. But for you, it’s most certainly worth a try. He thinks about running away with you, eloping under the light of the moon, starting a new life on some remote island, far away from everything. But he knows he couldn’t leave his people behind, and he is certain that you won’t let him. Sidon could refuse to marry anyone at all, but that would mean he couldn’t be with you. But wouldn’t it be better to live his life alone if he can’t live it with you?

These thoughts swirl endlessly around his mind, a vortex of confusion and possibility. Nothing seems right. He loves you. No one else. He can’t imagine loving someone else. Or growing to love someone else. Up until now, Sidon has imagined spending the rest of his life with you. Of proposing marriage to you, in the customary Hylian fashion. Starting a family together, running the Zora kingdom together. Growing old with one another. Nights spent gazing up at the stars, held close in one another’s arms. Mornings waking up in your warm embrace. 

With his father’s decision, all hope Sidon had of making a life with you has been dashed. On his journey home, he tries to come up with some sort of solution, but as the Zora kingdom draws nearer and nearer, the Prince frustratingly comes up with nothing useful.

***

An attendant greets Sidon on the bridge leading into the palace, handing off a small slip of paper before dashing off again. The Prince unfolds the note, recognizing your handwriting immediately. “Meet me in our usual spot,” it reads, followed by a small heart and the first letter of your name. Sidon politely excuses himself from his fellow travelers and bolts off to meet you, hoping that you haven’t been waiting long for him.

By the time Sidon reaches Toto Lake, the moon is hovering high in the night sky, casting swathes of silver light across all of Hyrule. Its reflection wavers on the surface of the lake as Sidon’s keen eyes search for you. He spots you in the lake’s center, gliding through the water, every stroke disrupting the liquid mirror around you. The lake appears to envelope your form, encompassing you almost lovingly. Toto holds so many memories for Sidon. It’s where he sought solace after his sister’s passing. Where he found peace during the devastating years that Calamity Ganon reigned. The temperate waters have provided shelter in his most distressing times. It’s also where Sidon first pledged himself to you, promising his heart to you. And where you promised yours to him. A sacred, secret promise.

Sidon watches you for a moment. You cling to the crumbling ruins in the lake’s center, gazing up at the distant, twinkling stars above, not seeming to have noticed him yet. Crickets chirp in harmony with the nearby ribbits of hot-footed frogs, hiding stealthily amongst the scattered lily pads near the shore. Sidon wonders if this is the last time he’s ever going to see you, a thought that pierces his heart like a vicious barb. He can’t help but notice the pile of bags and personal items that you’ve left in the nearby clearing, like you’re prepared to travel a great distance.

Sidon is pulled from this painful thought when you wave to him, having finally noticed him lingering there. He waves back, somewhat apprehensive, but collects himself before diving into the lake. Sidon swiftly cuts through the water, desperate to reach you, the red of his fin cresting the surface of the lake. He wonders if he’ll reach you in time before the moon summons you home again. 

“My darling,” you exhale as he reaches you, pulling you into his embrace and holding you close. You cling to Sidon, the gentle thrum of your heart against his chest reinvigorating him after his long journey home. Why do you puzzle-piece so perfectly into his form? It seems like a cruel, cosmic joke that you would fit so neatly, so completely in Sidon’s arms. 

“You’re leaving?” he questions, pulling back to meet your sorrowful gaze. Gently, his large hand cups your cheek, one thumb smoothing over your soft skin. You lean your head to the side, letting your eyelids flutter shut as you press a tender kiss into the palm of his hand. 

“I must,” you state just barely above a whisper, a quiver in your voice that threatens to shatter Sidon’s already fragile calm, “I heard word around the palace that your bride-to-be arrives tomorrow.”

This is news to Sidon, news that washes waves of vertigo and anxiety over him. They threaten to drown him, pummel him into the silt and sand until he is nothing more than a smoothed over shell, tossed about in the surf. Sidon steadies himself, taking a deep breath, using your pleasant scent, your warmth as an anchor to this moment. Your cheeks are flushed and when you open your eyes once again, Sidon can tell that you’ve been crying, though you shed no tears in front of him. He wants to beg you to stay, to beseech the moon above and bargain that you might grace him just a little longer with your presence. What would it take for the heavenly bodies to allow you just a few hours longer with him?

“I will not accept that all we’re meant to be are star-crossed lovers,” Sidon states passionately, his tone filled with a steady resolve, “I cannot accept it. Was it not here that I pledged myself to you? And you to me? Was it not here that we promised our hearts to one another?” 

“Aren’t we more than just crossing tides?” he finishes. You contemplate this for a moment, before leaning your forehead against his. Beneath the cool sheen of water on your skin, Sidon feels the heat of your blood flowing strong through your veins. Your strength, your poise in this painful time serves as an example to him. He is always put together, always princely and regal. You let him fall apart, without judgement. Sidon can feel his composure fracture at your next words.  

“I think we come from the same ancient waters,” you begin, your hands coming to rest on either side of his face, “In some primordial sea, we rode the same tides. Perhaps someday, we shall again. But maybe this time around, we are only meant to flow together briefly, before we part.” 

“This cannot be,” Sidon whispers, voice wavering and tears beginning to roll down his cheekbones,“I feel your spirit ebb and flow inside of me. You inhabit me in a way that no one else ever has.” 

“I am with you, always. My soul is woven into every fiber of your being. And yours, mine,” you return, and with your exhale, warm tears flow from your bright eyes, “Sidon, I love you, body and soul.” 

He can take no more. Sidon crashes his lips into yours, feverish and desperate. You drape your arms over his shoulders, press yourself tightly to him. Perhaps the gracious moon will allow the two of you to merge, to live out the remainders of your lives as one being, one body, one soul. 

You wrap your legs around his waist, resting on his narrow hips while he grips your supple thighs. You’re bare to him already, your naked form bathed in silver moonlight. You are glorious, mesmerizing. A bright star, fallen to earth so that Sidon might marvel at your beauty, your mystery before you ascend to your place carved out in the heavens once again.

Sidon can feel his arousal growing as you palm his bulge, claspers pressing against his sheathe. Your warm tongue languidly explores his mouth, breath fanning softly against him. His hands smooth over your slick curves, worshipping every part of you. He commits the plushness of your body to memory, stores your soft moans and tiny gasps so that he might recall them later, in his loneliest hours. The way you breathe his name is holy and nearly brings him to his knees. 

“My darling, my pearl,” he whimpers pathetically as you trail kiss after searing kiss along his jawline and down his neck. Your teeth leave their bittersweet marks in his flesh, his talons dragging down your back, agonizing and delightful all at once. 

"I will bear your marks for all of time,” he announces, voice husky and low, “And know that I am yours, and you are mine."

“I am yours always. Sidon,” you coo, hand massaging torturously slow over his painful bulge, “In this lifetime, and the next. In all that we should ever exist in together. And even those that we do not.”

Sidon’s fingers tangle in the wet strands of your hair, tugging as he tilts your head so he can have better access to the tender spot of flesh behind your ear. He luxuriates in the lyrical moans that flutter from your lips as he nibbles and sucks at your sensitive skin. His warm tongue drags along your neck, goosebumps appearing in his wake. Your excitement fuels him, thrills him like nothing else does. His fingers find his way to your slick folds, running its length, dousing himself with you. 

He can’t contain himself any longer, his claspers freeing themselves from their sheathe. You're quick to grasp one, pumping slow and rhythmic. 

“Sidon, please, allow me,” you entreat, your doe-eyed glance up at him only spurring on his arousal. He releases his grip on you, gently setting you back in the water and letting you push him onto a nearby ledge of the ruins. If his people saw him now- oh, the very thought. How un-princely of him- an idea that inexplicably excites him. Prince Sidon- always so put together. Always so collected and proper. Prince Sidon- with the lips of a Hylian warrior, a celestial goddess, around one cock and her hand wrapped around the other. 

Your tongue swirls around his swollen tip, making him throw his head back in overwhelming pleasure as you doubly stimulate him. Your hand strokes him at one speed, while your mouth works at another, before you fall into a rhythm with both. Every once in a while, you pause to lick a stripe up either shaft, before diving back in once again. Desperate to have you near, Sidon weaves the fingers of your free hand with his own and grips tight. You squeeze back, letting him know you’re still present, though you seem happily preoccupied with both of his cocks. 

“Oh, you work miracles, my love,” he groans, chest heavy with pleasure. He stays your hand, lets you work with just your mouth on one of his claspers. It would bring him no greater pleasure than to come inside you, he explains. 

“Your wish is my command, my prince,” you impishly return, mischief glinting in your eyes. You only ever call him, “Prince,” in court, when you have to be more formal. Or in private, when you want to tease him. An electric pulse runs through the length of Sidon’s body at your devilish gaze. You grasp his thighs, nails digging into his flesh. The sensation sends waves of pleasure through him. As your head bobs up and down, Sidon tries his best not to buck his hips into you, but it’s so very difficult. The coil in his core tightens, threatening to snap at any moment. And when it finally does, you help him ride out the electrifying pulses of his first orgasm that night.

***

A burst of salt hits the back of your throat. Bright brine graces your tongue. Your chest feels warm as you swallow, like your body is trying to imbue itself with Sidon. Like you're trying to weave him into every fiber of your being. His ragged breath is music to your ears as you slide your mouth off him. With a wet pop you release him, a string of spit connecting him to you. A connection tenderly wiped away by one of Sidon’s massive thumbs. When you glance up at him, his eyes are dark with lust, slitted pupils wide in pools of molten gold. Sidon’s cheeks are rosy and his body temperature warm, so very warm compared to his usual chill. 

You hardly have a moment to catch your breath before Sidon draws you up to him, smashing his lips against yours. Your nails dig into the hard muscles of his back, his streamlined body pressed so deliciously against yours. Your heat is throbbing, every ounce of you heavy with arousal. Carefully, Sidon flips you over, laying you ever so gently on the slab of rock beneath. Your head is cradled by some of the snaking ivy growing on these ancient ruins. Sidon gazes down at you, eyes glimmering in the night. His look is one of curiosity, awe. Though he’s seen you bare to him so many times before, he looks at you like it’s the first time. 

“I am at your mercy,” he hushes, sweeping strands of your hair out of your face, before leaning down to tenderly press his lips to yours. He lays kiss-upon-kiss over your cheeks, down your neck, along your collarbone. Featherlight, he trails his lips down your chest, suckling gently on each of the pert buds of your nipples. His sharp teeth graze them softly before he makes his way down your abdomen. His hands knead your hips, cup and massage your breasts as his mouth reaches your heat. He wouldn’t dare tease you, but he can’t help nibbling at your thighs a bit, leaving little love-bites in his wake. After a moment of reveling in your plush inner-thighs, Sidon turns his attention to your pussy. His tongue is languid, warm, as he drags it along your folds. The moan that escapes your lips is salacious. You hear Sidon growl with excitement. He flicks his gilded gaze up at you before he softly kisses the sensitive nub of your clit. 

Sidon dives into you, lapping up your arousal like it’s his lifeblood. Like he simply cannot survive without the taste of you. He savors you, tongue slowly circling your clit, testing your entrance. You squirm under the firm grasp he has on your hips, bucking into him, causing him to chuckle at your eagerness. He hoists your legs over his broad shoulders, burying his head deeper into you. Sidon drinks you in like he’s parched. With each of your tiny mewls, you feel Sidon’s happy hums reverberating through your body. 

“Sidon, please,” you whine, smoothing one hand over the sleek fin atop his head, “I need to feel you in me.” 

He withdraws, the cool night air hitting your overheated folds surprising you. You gasp at its harshness, but Sidon is quick to replace the loss of heat with his hand, palming your sensitive pussy. When his lips meet yours, he tastes of you. 

“My darling, I’m yours. Entirely, completely. Every part of me. All parts of my soul,” he promises, his voice filled with conviction, with an aching passion. 

“I am yours, Sidon,” you return, breathless and longing, “Forever and always.” 

Tenderly, he spreads your legs, letting you wrap them around his waist, placing a large hand on the small of your back to help angle you. The stars overhead seem so close, so clear, like you’re encompassed in an endless dome of them. 

“Are you ready, my love?” Sidon asks, his cheeks flushed, breaths laborious. You nod enthusiastically, more than ready for him. He’s so slick, he slips into you with more ease than you expect. But he’s so big, you can feel him stretching out your entrance. He goes slow, gentle, allowing you ample time to adjust. Every few moments he asks if you’re alright. You stabilize yourself, arms slung around his chest, hands resting on his sinewy back. He’s cool to the touch, a sheen of water over his skin. 

With one of Sidon’s cock’s inside you, the other rests against your stomach. It’s hard again already, having recovered fast from your earlier ministrations. You grasp it gently, pumping rhythmically with Sidon’s rocking motions. A sultry moan falls from his lips at this double stimulation.

Sidon grinds slow and shallow for a while, before pressing deeper into you. You let go of the clasper resting against your stomach, allowing it to rest against you. With every pump into you, Sidon’s cock presses against the soft pad of your cervix. The pleasure is intense, your body quivering with each voltaic charge Sidon pulses into you. The heat generated between you is overwhelming, your bodies trying so desperately to merge into one. Your fingernails dig into his back, his talons into your thighs. Sidon buries his head into the crook of your neck, suckling little bruises, marking you. He delights in the way your breasts bounce with every motion. 

Goddess, please, let the moonlight fuse us into one, he begs, but he knows this cannot be. The two of you try your very best to do it yourselves. 

As Sidon grinds into you, the grip you have on his back prompts him to pick up his pace. 

“My darling, my pearl,” he manages to whisper, his breathing heavy, “You are, and always shall be, the light of my life.” 

“You are my moon, my stars, my light in the darkness,” you return, voice constrained by the taut coil in your core. Your walls quake around Sidon’s quivering cock. 

“Ha,” he huffs, pounding harder into you, “So close, my darling.” 

And so are you, but you can’t speak. For a moment later, the straining coil in you springs loose. Sidon’s name echoes through the clearing, a prayer in this ancient water temple. You cream around Sidon’s cock as he falls apart, his pace erratic as his hot cum fills your cunt. You feel even more paint your stomach, threads coating your abdomen from his other cock. Sidon calls out your name, a hymn to match yours. Sidon wonders if the moon hears the adoration, the infinite love in his voice. You know it does. 

When you’ve milked him for everything he’s worth, when he’s spent himself entirely inside you and on you, you pull Sidon down, crashing your lips into his. Feverishly, the two of you press kiss after kiss to one another, heated and yearning. You let the silence wash over you, grateful for the cool night breeze on your overheated bodies. After a while, Sidon gently pulls out of you, cock slick with your combined efforts. He pulls you into his embrace, cradling you in his arms. You belong here, enveloped by him. Enveloping him. How could the Goddess be so cruel to make you fit so perfectly, only to take you away from him?

“Leave in the morning,” Sidon begs, pressing a small kiss to the corner of your lip, “Please, stay one more night. Besides, it’s not safe.”

You shake your head, a rueful smile on your lips and sorrow in your eyes, “If I don’t leave now, it’ll be that much harder for me to leave tomorrow. And don’t worry, Zelda has sent forth people to retrieve me. They’ll be here within the hour. I’ll be okay.” 

Sidon’s heart can’t drop anymore, but if it could, it certainly would. He’s not sure what he expected to feel after everything that’s happened. The depth of his melancholy is too great for him to understand at the moment. It will take time for him to process. He doesn’t feel numb. No, instead he savors your embrace. He holds you close, littering your face with kisses, gently stroking your back while you rub small circles into his. If he could live in this moment forever, he would.

A horn blows in the distance, drawing the two of you out of your tender sanctuary in time. In the distance, you see lights on the bridge of the palace. It’s a Hylian caravan of guards, no doubt from the palace. No doubt sent here for you. You cling to Sidon’s back as he swims the two of you to shore. 

“I wish you could whisk me away on your back. I wish we could just keep swimming and not look back,” you murmur to him, laying a gentle kiss on his fin. 

“I do, too,” is all he can manage, trying so very hard not to shed any more tears. You dress quickly and Sidon helps you gather all your things. These are your last moments together. The bitter sweetness sticks in Sidon’s chest, viscous like tree sap, clinging to his ribs. Hand-in-hand you walk back down the cliff side and make your way to the bridge. Just out of sight of the Hylian caravan, you pull Sidon aside and lay your lips against his one more time. Your kiss is passionate and conveys every immense bit of your love for him. He hopes you can feel the same from him. 

When you pull back, your eyes are filled with adoration. And his with sorrow and love. You smile softly.

"The sea will carry us to one another,” you begin, tears trickling down your cheeks, “Time and again. I will find you in the next life, where our tides will be one and the same."

Sidon leans his forehead against yours, allowing his tears to fall freely.

“My heart belongs to you, always,” he breathes, “You reside in me, sheltered and safe.”

“You will always find a home in my heart,” you return, pressing one final kiss to his lips. Your hand lingers in his for a moment, before it slips from his grasp. Prince Sidon of the Zora watches your form grow smaller and smaller on the horizon, before it disappears behind the cliff sides, and he is left alone once again. 

A/N: Okay, don’t get me wrong, I actually think Lady Yona is adorable and I have all sorts of plans for some OC/Sidon/Link/Yona headcanons and drawings. But I couldn’t resist writing some Sidon/Reader angst!!!!!! Oh gosh, if I ever decide to do a follow up, there's just too many good options. a) Sidon refuses the arranged marriage and declares that he's marrying you, against his father's wishes b) Sidon decides to runaway with you and you live out the rest of your lives on a secluded island c) Sidon goes through with the marriage and you go your separate ways or, perhaps my favorite option, d) you, and Sidon, and Link, AND Yona become a happy little polycule because that would be adorable and wonderful (and I've said it before, but I'll say it again, if you know me, you know I love anything poly!!!!!!) Thank you so much for reading! This was a delight to write, though it definitely filled me with a lot of sadness. As always, likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated! Hope you are all doing amazing! Lots of love 💜

[ira-hydrangea]

Replaced Mc? Not Really... Never Part 3

Summary: Everything is now ready. Just one final strike before they can take the fruit of their hardworks.

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 4

Obviously with the rumors plan failed. Nobody believes Eva and now her reputation is at risk. So she changed her plans. To get rid of MC once and for all.

Since no one believes her, she just needs to make it so they will have no choice but to believe her.

Luckily, she has a puppet fit for that. There is this one boy that is naive enough to believe her no matter what. He is annoying but if can change your words then making him do your bidding will be an easy feat. Who else but Kalim?

"Eh? What do you need to do with that kind of flower?" Kalim asks surprised. Eva is meeting with him in his dorm.

Currently, Eva trying to convince Kalim to bring her the Moonlight Flower. It's a special flower that only bloomed once every year and the time for each flower to bloom is different. The flower has a beautiful blue petal with a red hue right in the middle. Almost similar to the lotus.

"I'm just curious~. This world has always fascinated me and especially the flowers. At least before Mr.Crowley found the way back, I want to see every magical thing in here. Can you please do it for me, Kalim?"

Kalim then stays silent for a while before smiling. "Sure~ I don't mind. Besides, MC never really sees that kind of flower too so I can also gift it to them."

Eva clenched her fist when hearing about Mc's name. What is so special about them? They are also the same magicless human as her yet why do people here always put them in the greater light.

"Thank you so much, Kalim~. And speaking about Mc, can you tell me more abou-"

"Kalim. Your father called and wished to speak with you on the phone as soon as possible." Jamil said while emerging from the shadows.

Eva didn't fond of Jamil. Sure, he is beautiful but in the end, he is just a servant to Kalim. What she wanted is to marry into a rich family in this world, preferably royalty so Jamil is on her blacklist.

"Oh? In that case, I'm sorry Eva but I need to go now. Don't worry, I will send the flowers to you tomorrow."

Eva waves her hands with an angelic smile toward Kalim before hardening her eyes and smirk.

"Yes... Deliver it to me soon, my dear sultan. And I would use it very well~"

The Moonlight Flower although beautiful, they have some composition to make it quite a strong poison. Not lethal but it is enough to convince anyone that the symptoms are very serious.

Eva planned to use that potion for her plan. She can make the potion on her own because she only needs to follow the books.

Now she can't wait for her plan to begin.

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

"Mc! Thank you for accepting my invitation to my small tea party!" Eva said with a beaming smile.

"Thank you for inviting me, Eva. I'm so excited to finally able to talk with another person from my world." Said Mc.

Eva then pulls Mc towards the seat. On the table, there were already so many sweets and tea that she prepared especially for today.

They talk for a very long time while laughing. When students see this scene, they would think that there both are old friends.

"So, Mc... You have stayed here longer than I, right?" Eva asked as she stirred her tea.

"Yep. I have stayed here for almost a year now."

"Oh! That would explain the fondness that most of the students have for you." Eva said and her face turn cold.

"And I truly despite it..."

"... Eva?"

"Mc, I really didn't like how you easily win the affection of the student without doing any effort. It's... Annoying... That's why." Eva then calmly sipped her tea before smiling back at Mc.

"I need to do this." With that, she suddenly coughed while standing up making the table turn around and spill everything on top of it. The sound immediately attracts the few students along with the dorm leaders as they immediately go to check.

There they saw Eva kneeling on her feet while Mc looked horrified. Before hearing a shout from Eva.

"I- I never intended to take away your friend's attention. B-but how can you *cough* be so cruel to poison me *cough* *cough*. I thought we are friends." Eva said as she collapse and Lilia immediately caught her. She smirks in her heart thinking that this finally works.

"N-no... I'm not-"

"Mc! How could you?! To think you would be this cruel to do something like this!" Riddle immediately shouts.

"No! You all get it all wrong! This is a trap!"

"ENOUGH! Mc, I'm usually very lenient towards you but this has already gone too far! You disappointed me too."

One by one the supposed friends of Mc starts to reprimand them as Eva smile victoriously as she watches the show from the side while snuggling towards Lilia. Until Ace can be heard laughing at the scenario.

"Pfft- I'm just can't Pfft- Bahahaha! Oh! To think this is the ultimate plan that girl can plan. Where did she even get this idea? A novel?" Ace laugh while Eva look confused.

"What?"

"Ace... You are not supposed to laugh. And to think I spending so much time teaching all of you to act." Vil sighs desperately. Lilia then chuckled.

"... Wh-what is going on?" Eva look confused as she looked at Lilia but Lilia just looks at her coldly with glowing red eyes and drop her from his arms.

Sebek immediately runs towards Lilia with a sanitizer ready and a box of tissue. Lilia accepts it gratefully.

"Ha... To think I would touch something so dirty with my hands. You better pay for my hard work very well, my dear." Lilia said.

"Just what on earth is going on? *cough* Why are you all looking at me like I'm at fault? It's not me but Mc is the one that tries to poison me."

"Hey. It's kinda pitiful seeing her like this, right Cater?" Ace asks as he smirks towards 'Mc'. Eva watches with widened eyes as Mc start to change form toward one of the familiar students, Cater Diamond. He just give a peace sign towards Eva.

"Too bad, dearie~ But the one that you want to frame is currently sleeping safe and sound inside the Diasomnia. It's really a waste of your good acting though. But don't worry, you still have something very useful for us." Cater said with a smile. Eva just look at them dumbfounded before processing Cater words.

"What do you mean... Useful?"

This time Vil is the one that steps up and kneels to her face level. "You see, Eva... You have something that is needed to ensure our love Mc survival in this magical world. The poor one has been sick recently and needed a cure. This is why we need you. More specifically, your heart~"

Eva just slap Vil's hands away in fear. If that means that everything has been planned all along. Her arrival in this magical world has been staged just so MC can survive all along. So she is only a puppet? A sacrifice?

Eva starts to think about the worst possibility until she starts to cough again but this time, she let out some kind of weird black ink. She looks horrified.

"Ah... It seems the fruit will soon be ripe for us to pick." Lilia said with a smile.

"P-please! Anyone save me!" Eva then looks around to see every single student but can only get scared as every single student have this smile towards her.

Why? Why? WHY?! She just wants to have a happily ever after!! She was supposed to have it and live like a princess just like in the fairy tale. THE PROTAGONIST SHOULD HAVE BEEN HER! B-but why... She gets turned into a villain!

Her coughing starts to get worse. As more and more ink flows out from her mouth. Malleus then stood in front of her and with a smirk looking down at her.

"Be hateful my dear. Hate the fact that you easily fall for us and our story. And hate how you have been playing around just like a lamb."

That is the last time Eva remembers before the darkness consumes her. The last voice she remembers are...

"Don't worry we wouldn't kill you~ You can still live without your heart~"

Okay. So the next part will maybe the last part of this AU. I'm will open a brain rot for extra chapters later. Hopefully, this is up to your expectations. AND THANK YOU FOR EVERY KIND WORD AND SUPPORT! Reading your comments always makes my days even better.

This is the taglist but I'm sorry if there is someone that still not getting tagged. I try to cross-check it so many times to make sure that none is being missed out.

Thank you for the support and maybe leave a comment and don't forget to reblog!

Taglist:

@ladykitsunesworld @shutsuyuri @lilqi @fancyhawk45 @probablynoposts @justakiro @blue-yucca @love-thanatopsis @sxftiebee @salty-salty @zlatolait-writes @feiktn @redrosetrappola @littlewitchwonderland @ilikefanfics4 @deemayaz @unre-lated @deessenya @viostar2095 @sumiko0-0 @clovers-anxiety @fluffimemes @celestialbluebed @deadflycomputerlogs @percea @mouchie @nadjababygirl @migirizuki @h3apm3ch4n151m @rebloging-everything @crazyyanderefangirlfan @mikkies @iameliseposts

[muddyorbsblr]

rules of conduct: the checkout queue

Series Masterlist See my full list of works here!

Summary: in which Loki learns the ways of having to wait in line

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 964

Warnings: smut (minors & pearl clutchers, don't even think about it); vaginal fingering; exhibitionism-adjacent; 1 cuss word (not even remotely sorry, Rogers)

Things to be aware of: teammates to…y'know what even I'm not quite sure what they are by the end of this…partners in smut? 😂

"And after crossing out every item on this list, with a considerable amount of ancillaries…" You had to roll your eyes at Loki's comment about the boxes of Pop Tarts and grape sodas and Vanilla Cokes that took up more than half the space of your cart. "We can finally leave this market teeming with the mundanities of man?"

"Not so fast, Mischief," you called out to him, stopping him mid-stride as he made his way to the exit. "We have to pay first."

"You do not simply walk away with what you desire?" You shook your head at him, holding back your laughter as the concept visibly confused the god. "That was how merchants were to me and Thor back in Asgard."

"Well you're on Earth now. And I'm not royalty, they won't just give me all this for free unless I have an arsenal of coupons or they find me pretty enough to give me a 'friends & families discount' in exchange for flashing them my tits or giving them my number."

"But I am a prince—"

"Not here, you're not," you cut him off. "Some people barely even want to acknowledge that the Earth isn't flat, good luck getting them to accept that there's anything beyond the solar system. Let alone more intelligent and superior life forms." The corner of his mouth twitched in a smirk at that last bit. "So here you're an alien. Not a prince. Not a god. Well…unless we find people who heavily subscribe to Norse mythology so I gotta make sure we keep you far away from that." 

He took a look around the marketplace, two fingers hooked at the front of your cart and not so subtly dragging it, and you, along with him as he made his way through the aisles. You made the split second decision to place your feet on the bottom rack to give your feet a break from walking and letting the towering Asgardian do all the work instead. 

"Wait. Loki where are you going?" You avoided the pointed glares of the people in line that he passed, the irritation quickly melting into unabashed leering stares as they took in the way his black jeans and dark emerald shirt clung to and perfectly accentuated his lean, godly form. He looked back at you, breaking out into an amused grin when he saw how you were standing on the rack of the cart, his other hand pointing toward the cashier as if to answer your question. "There's a line, Mischief. Gotta move to the back and wait our turn. You know, just like everyone else." 

Loki let out an exaggerated huff before turning the cart around and walking to the back of the line, the sound morphing into a faint chuckle when he heard your muted 'wheeeeee', only dismounting from the rack when you two finally stood at the end of the five cart queue and causing the women to risk neck pain from looking back and shamelessly checking out your teammate. 

Your breath hitched when you felt his large hands resting on your hips, the lustful glances of the women in front of you once more becoming scathing as they switched their focus from him to you, and just how closely he stood behind you, the tip of his nose tracing the shell of your ear. "Okay now what're you doing?" 

"Simply waiting our turn, darling." You could feel him smirking against your skin as fingers played along the waistband of your jeans, briefly dipping under and stroking the skin underneath and making you grip the handle of the cart so hard your knuckles were turning white. "Do you not think this would be a much more…titillating way to pass the time?" 

"You are going to get us into a scandal, Laufeyson," you hissed under your breath, struggling to keep your composure and subtly kick him so that he'd stop fucking around as deft fingers undid the button of your jeans, sliding the zipper down at an agonizing pace. "If you wanna incur Pepper's wrath because you were horny during this stupid acclimation effort that Stark assigned me to, be my guest. But don't drag me in with you--"

"Did you truly think I would let any of these inferior prying eyes see what we were up to, little mortal?" he whispered, breath tickling the tiny hairs at the side of your head. "All these people are seeing is your ever affectionate lover, my arms wrapped around you, the two of us engrossed in our own conversation. Every now and then I would press a kiss to your face." As if to emphasize his point, he pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, humming against your skin as he did so. "Just like that." 

"Cameras," you hissed. You couldn't find it in you to voice the rest of your sentiment. You are not my lover, and I'm not your darling. 

Mostly because you wanted so desperately for his illusion to be your reality.

"Under the same illusion." He kissed a path down to the corner of your mouth. "Tell me to stop." He groaned as he pressed another kiss to your skin, his fingers slipping under your panties and slowly making their way down. "Tell me you don't want this, too, and I'll stop--"

"I can't," you blurted out, a whimper slipping from your mouth as he finally pressed his lips to yours.

"Then you'll need to keep quiet for the remainder of the queue, darling." He captured your lips in another kiss, muffling the moan that escaped you when his fingers traveled further down and met your slick arousal, running up the length of your slit and rubbing tight circles against  your clit. "Or else we shatter the illusion." 

A/N: so…welcome to 'rules of conduct'! requests for this series/collection will forever be open, so if you have any scenarios you want to put these two blorbos into that fit the theme of the story, send them over and I'll see what I can do 😄 (also I don't have that many ideas on what exactly I'm gonna have them do next after this other than another shot at fitting room smut, maybe public library, and then that's about it)

‘everything’ taglist: @sailorholly @loopsisloops @unlucky-number-13 @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @sarahscribbles @kats72 @kikster606 @evelyn-kingsley @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th @lovelysizzlingbluebird @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @dangertoozmanykids101 @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina

Loki taglist: @calumance @severuslovebot @moonlightreader649 @i-stand-with-loki @nixymarvelkins @infinitystoner @lokisgoodgirlbackup @purplegrrl27 @thedistractedagglomeration

'rules of conduct' masterlist: @acidcasualties

[witchofthesouls]

What’s your thoughts on the Cone head seekers?

I got a lot. But it's expanding on the "Starscream is Vosian royalty" trope in the tf fandom.

The Coneheads are part of the Vosian Elite hierarchy. The tension between Starscream and Thrust is made worse by their family connection as well as their heritage and social customs. They're 'cousins' through their mothers.

Vos is a matrilineal society and places a deep emphasis on full carriages. Vosians believe that the newsparks gain more durability being nurtured within their carrier's frame. Starscream has a higher rank due to his own carrier belonging to a femme who's the sparkling of femme Winglord's clutch, and she managed to bring Starscream to term despite the high-risk medical complications that unfortunately whittled down to only one viable sparklet. (She was a favored daughter and an excellent diplomat for other city-states. With strings, she buried the medical records that another attempt could kill her before the sparklets had a chance to drop down.) A very ill omen among the Vosians as it means an early death or major compatibility issues with others.

Meanwhile, Thrust came from a "proper" clutch from a carrier that can trace her lineage to a Ruling Trine. However, she was sired by those mechs upon a bondmate.

Going back to the Coneheads. It's a high-ranking trine that is the equivalent of head of the royal security forces and major contenders to succeed to the Ruling Trine or court a femme Winglord or settle her heat should she has no claimed trine or lover.

Non-Seekerkin can not understand how they can function with that kind of system that allows the possibility of deception and treachery. But it's their way of checks and balances within their social structure. The push-pull between the Winglord with the Ruling Trine and the constant testing with the outer and inner rings will hone skills and keep instincts sharp as violence is settled in acceptable manners.

Starscream and Thrust have major beef with other as they both differ on how to guide the remaining Vosians... and surviving Seekerkin. Thrust is very much: Vosian first. Decepticon second.

He also thinks of his cousin as a fuckup. He won't deny Starscream's brilliance, but it's crippled by how Starscream allows himself to be corrupted by 'outside' influences rather than keeping to themselves. A weakness, Thrust views, that stems from Starscream's attempts to go against traditions and expectations. Skywarp was an utter hellion of a Wilder barbarian, and Thrust still can't believe that Starscream trined to that when others mechs were willingly to overlook Starscream's ominous signs and standoffish quirks. The addition of a Praxian femme Thundercracker as the war escalated nearly had Starscream and Thrust come to blows. Starscream catapulting his way into Winglord and Decepticon SIC did have them come to blows. Starscream's trine won the right to lead.

Meanwhile, Starscream sneers at his cousin's lack of imagination. He's upset that Thrust's shortsightedness had been nurtured by Vosian sense of superiority... which crippled them with interacting with other city-states and blinded them to their own troubles. And it even follows them to this point in the war. Even now, there's little mixing between Vosian Seekers and the rest of the faction. Unlike Skywarp that relishes his duties as the Left-Wing to a Decepticon SIC and Winglord and the remaining Decepticon Praxians and Polyhexians that have no issues intermingling with the rest of the faction, Starscream sees that they are getting isolated. He's banging his head against so many walls because that's something that needs to be taken care of before they're written off as they further dwindle. Air superiority means little without the proper numbers, and he already is verbally vivisecting any plans that propose to split trines to further air support across divisions. He may be the established Winglord, but he has too many duties to counter the social pull the Coneheads have on the remaining Vosians. Thundercracker keeps them in line, but she can't force them out to interact with the others.

(Their family was hoping that Starscream and Thrust would trine together as they had compatible skillets and opportunities to grow well together. Thrust could handle Starscream's acerbic words and guide him to of the more successful ventures, whereas Starscream had the creative vision to go well with Thrust's excellent social finesse.

However, their personalities and motivations clashed too much as neither of them are willing to back down. They kept hoping as Thrust was still settling with his brothers and classmates but still gravitated to Starscream, even to heckle at him... They eventually gave up after Starscream trined with Skywarp.)

[mintaikk]

Why Stolas likes Blitzø

(Continuation of this post. Tldr ar the end bcuz this is long.)

Yes, Ik how they first saw each other after 25 years. Yes, ik it could have started as lust that turned into love. Yes, it's an escape from his shitty marriage. Yes, it's probably Stolas loving sterotypical romance tropes. BUT, I think that there's more than meets the eye.

(Also, when I talk about Stolas meeting Blitzø, assume it's after the 25 years unless I specify it's when they were kids)

I think Stolas likes Blitzø for how different he is than what he's seen in his life. Blitzø is loud, outgoing, confident, and just an overall gremlin. He also doesn't hide his negative traits. He's rude and literally just screams about how much he dislikes something. He's not afraid to tell people to shut it when he's sick of them. Compare that to Stolas's life, where he just learns to internalize shit and accept life as it is while following all these weird-ass royalty standards.

And listen. In my "Why Blitzø Likes Stolas" post, I said that a major reason that Blitzø likes him is because he's dramatic and wears his heart on his sleeve. But that's Stolas when he's with the people he cares about, like Blitzø and Octavia. In his regular life, Stolas is a reserved, quiet introvert who's used to other Goetia's shitting on him all the time. Before he met Blitzø, he just took people's shit and was awkward when it came to voicing what he wanted (he literally stuttered 😭). And then, he met Blitzø, who was loud and confident and came across as not caring what people thought (we know he cares a bit bcuz he looked self conscious when in the room with other Goetia's, but Stolas didn't know that). And he was really forward with what he wanted as well, which Stolas never even considered that he was allowed to do. Going back to when he was a child (bcuz this shit always starts when your young and stupid), Stolas literally cried when he realized he was going to marry Stella, and instead of Paimon listening to him to see why, he just distracted him by taking him to The Circus. Distracting your saddness and anger with other things, amiright? This is how alcohol addictions start, gang). This just shows how Blitzø being really confident and forward was just- not something Stolas was used to in his life!

Stolas probably likes how rude Blitzø is as well, if that makes sense. Like I said, Stolas grew up in royalty, and being polite is a huge thing, but being polite can just turn into being a doormat. And, I'm sure all Blitzø lovers noticed this, but he's litterally so rude. Like, he's a secret softy, but he's rude. He screams at Moxxie whenever he gets. He plays loud music and badly sings along with his employees in the car. Stolas litterally heard Blitzø insult Moxxie just because he could (S2 Episode 2, Seeing Stars). And yes, this is a negative trait, but I still think Stolas likes it a bit bcuz, let's be real here, he was a fucking doormat, and he admires Blitzø for just openly being rude.

Edit: One person pointed out that the reason Stolas responds positively to Blitzø's rudeness and insults but negatively to Stella's is because Stella means to be awful while Blitzø insults him out of love (Truth Seekers as evidence)

They also both have a weird fucked up sense of humor. Stolas is the only one to laugh at Blitzø's joke at the Circus when talking about the "gross worm horse," because it was scientifically correct (I love this guy), and he's the only one to laugh at his jokes in Seeing Stars, despite them being incredibly violent ("And then that BITCH *something something, I don't remeber the exact quote and i dont feel like checking* SHATTERED HER SKULL! There was Blood everywhere!"), and Stolas is laughing like it's the funniest thing he's heard because there probably WAS blood everywhere! And let's be real here, laughing at his jokes is a BIG sign that someone likes someone in media.

Okay, imma bring this up. Yes, Stolas had a crush on Blitzø when they were kids. Yes it was cute. Yes, his blushing was adorable. BUT, kids have crushes differently than teenagers and adults. In elementary school, a girl I knew had a crush on a boy because he had a cool shirt. Stolas probably started having a crush on Blitzø because his doll was an imp, and Stolas was mostly raised by the imp butler, so he found comfort in imps. I wouldn't call that fetishization just yet, bcuz he was just a kid, but I just want to point it out. And while I do think this, I think he also started liking Blitzø as a kid because he thought he was funny and fun to hang out with.

Also, Blitzø is just- silly! He likes bad jokes. He sticks his tongue out when he's being a troll. He loves horses and draws them all the time- even drawing Stolas & Via as horses and giving it to Stolas as a gift (I'm not making this up, this was from Blitzø's twitch because he had that)

He makes goofy faces all the time. His eyes dilate when he's happy. He loves games. He follows the "Byeeeeee <3" trend in cartoons. He likes playing with stickers. He likes going to the park and playing with the horse toys 😭

And going back to the "He grew up in royalty thing where he had to fit rigid social standards," thing, all of this would just be cute quirks to Stolas bcuz he's not used to it! He admires Blitzø a lot just because of how much of himself he is!

Blitzø is also really brave (reckless depending on who you ask, but we're on Stolas's perspective here!). Blitzø, the lowest denizen of Hell, scaled the walls of a literal Goetia prince bcuz he wanted to fuck him (again, Stolas's perspective). His business is about going to Earth, something implied to be illlegal if you don't have permission from a higher up, to kill people. He's litterally an assassin and skilled in combat. And, if you haven't figured it out by now, a lot of crushes start by admiring the traits that you don't have (how we all confused gender envy with crushes, lmao). And while I'd argue that Stolas is pretty brave now (going full demon mode on Earth, still standing his ground when Striker was threatening him, "THAT WAS THE SOUND OF A FUCKING DIVORCE!"), he wasn't when he met Blitzø. I already talked about him being a doormat, so I won't talk about it again, but we all know how he was.

And, my favorite thing about romantic ships, ✨️The Connection✨️. Blitzø and Stolas spend a lot of time together on the Full Moon, and sometimes not even all the Full Moon. A basic thing of BDSM etiquette is after care and making sure your partner is okay. And, knowing Stolas's romantic heart, he probably fell harder during the aftercare, where they had to care for each other and talk about stuff. Honestly, I wish they showed the aftercare in the show bcuz I feel like it could add so much more context to their relationship. VIVZIE, PLEASE!

I've been keeping this mostly PG13, but yes, they are very sexually compatible, which Stolas has literally never felt until sleeping with Blitzø.

Blitzø is also just a very loving person. He doesn't wear his heart on his sleeve like Stolas, but when he likes something, he lets everyone know . He loves his daughter and is super affectionate with her. He loves his business and his employees, and he likes getting to know them and doing fun stuff with them (Harvest Moon festival). Like said before, he loves horses and draws them all the time and carries little horse toys with him everywhere. Like, THIS IS HIS FACE WHEN HIM AND STOLAS MADE HORSES OUT OF CANDLE WAX TOGETHER. It's so cute!

Stolas grew up litterally being told, "Excitement is unbecoming of a Goetia" (S2, episode 1, The Circus), and Blitzø is literally excited a bunch of the time. Honestly, I think it's really sweet that they both like each other for the emotion they show.

Oh! This too! Bryce Pinkham said that Blitzø is "someone that Stolas fan truly be himself around."

Stolas doesn't feel like he has to put an act on around Blitzø. Notice how he's a lot more open and theatrical around Blitzø, and he's not afraid to get dressed up (he never got dressed up for the Gortia parties other than his basic outfit, lol). He's goofy and flirty with him and acts really excited and affectionate and smiley and just- overall a lot more comfortable! Compare that to when he's with the other people, where he's more reserved and quiet ang goes along with whatever. Yes, The Goetia party, but that's with people he hated. Compare it to how he was when he was helping Ozzie. Yes, you could argue that he was nervous about the Asmodean crystal and Fizz, but it's still a noticeable change. He's quiet and seems stiffer than when he is with Blitzø.

(The only other person he is open with like he is with Blitzø is Via, and he also loves Via. Honestly, he's just a really outgoing person with the people he loves/feels comfortable around).

Idk what else to say. I've been typing this shot for 2 hours straight. Enjoy my weird Ted talk about a kinky owl demon. If you have anything you'd like to add, please tell me, I'd love to hear it!

Tldr; Stolas likes Blitzø because he's different than what he's used to, he's confident, he's himself, they both have a weird fucked up sense of humor, he's brave, he's silly, they have a connection past sex, they're very sexually compatible, Blitzø is a very loving snd passionate person, and Stolas can be himself around him.

Okay, extremely dumb thing that doesn't matter, but did you know Barn Owls are attracted to Barn Owls with a lot of spots? Please note that Blitzø's scars made him have a lot of spots around his body. This person also went over gay barn Owls courtship and its litterally how Stolas and Blitzø first slept together, I can't stand this show sometimes 😭

[anystalker707]

When he's a damn tease (Sanji version)

Pairing: Vinsmoke Sanji x [gender neutral] Reader Check out: (Roronoa Zoro's version) Summary: Headcanons about him teasing you because he knows you secretly like him (there are two versions) Tags: version 1 has gentleman sanji treating you like a royalty while you're shy / in version 2, he is that too, but you make him flustered

A/N: anon requested something regarding giving sanji a silent treatment--gonna work on this next

MASTERLIST

• Maybe it’s just immense luck, because Sanji apparently just started to be more lovesick at your sight after he caught onto some of your comments, such as “I feel like it’d be safer if Sanji joined our group” or “probably the best cook out there, really”, which aren’t even too different from what the others comment, but the fact that it was you saying it had him swooning and nose-bleeding more than usual

• You don’t really know how to deal with it, so your reaction most of the time is to look down and turn your head away whenever he is being that extra

• “Oh, you’re so cute when you’re shy, (y/n)-swan!” he says with heart eyes and hand clasped over his chest

• Sanji always has that stupid grin on his face whenever you watch him fight, making sure to you’re watching him while he puts on his best show—if it’s a difficult opponent, he’ll start ranting about how he can’t lose because he needs you back home and whole

• If you’re fighting with him, he’ll do his best to help you out and be the most perfect pair, very sweet, actually

• The others are worried, at some point, that you might not really return his feelings since he is extremely invested in you—Sanji does love cooking and fighting, but it seems to gain a completely different tone when it comes to you—and you don’t respond a lot, however, the worry fades away once they notice you keep every single note that Sanji leaves for you with the dishes and how you’ll even eat whatever he prepares you slowly to appreciate every bite of it

• Sanji doesn’t stop treating Nami, Robin and the other ladies well or fancing them, it just becomes different. It’s clear by the way he starts wearing that specific shirt just because you commented how nice it suits him, and the way he doesn’t start complaining when you walk into the kitchen during his alone hours—he actually likes having your company while he cooks

• Then, he wants more attention from you, what leads to the actual teasing

• Sanji will be seeking your approval almost the whole time just to make you react and, of course, because he loves your company and pretty much anything about you. It might be the simplest thing, but he will be there helping you out because you deserve it

• “Sanji, we need you to go buy stuff, we can’t have you watching the ship!” “...Only if I get to go with (y/n)-swan.” Sanji crosses his arms with a pout. At first, he was worried he would put negative pressure on you by saying that just to find out how amusing you thought it to be after he made a joke with it

• “You’re still here?” Zoro raised an eyebrow seeing Sanji still hadn’t left after the crew split up to gather what they needed in the new island; he was staying to watch the ship, so there was no reason for Sanji to be there, unless, of course... “Only with (y/n)-swan!” Sanji grinned in a smug manner that immediately turned into a mess the moment he saw you.

• And of course you go, trying to hide how flustered you are because you will hear a thousand comments like “oh, it’s a beautiful city! Such a beautiful view, but not as beautiful as you” before his eyes turn into hearts and he’s melting again because it ends up getting you shy

• Prepares every single dish you want. Once, he sits down next to you with your dessert in hand, but refuses to let you hold it. “You seem so tired, do you mind if I help you out?” He holds a spoonful of it in front of your lips, and despite how it makes your cheeks burn, you find yourself accepting it, much to his happiness

• Sanji may put on a serious and smooth posture to impress you, but he’ll either be a mess in seconds—like when the two of you are hanging out—or just internally, keeping that face when he’s confronting any enemy or scaring off someone who shouldn’t be too close to you

• He will hold your hand because it seems fit, always saying stuff like “I’m afraid you’ll get lost,” or just keeping it in his grasp after he holds it just to inspect “how lovely it is” and press a kiss to your knuckles—really just treating you like a royalty because he loves it even when you’re too flustered to even hold his gaze

• Also, Sanji might find out about it if you have a weak spot for him speaking French, so he will always be slipping some words in French in whatever he says to you. It might be the simplest thing said in the right way, just a “here’s your food, mon amour,” with a soft wink, and you’ll already be dying internally

.𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟.

• Another version in which Sanji is all over you, but doesn’t know how to deal with it because your reactions aren’t that easy to read, then you actually crack a genuine smile once in a while whenever he does something and you’re the owner of all of his attention

• He might be swooning over Robin and Nami that he’ll just stop and come right to you the moment you show up, asking if you need something

• Sanji is walking around with the first buttons of his shirt undone and handing out drinks until he puts on the best grin he can to hand you yours. “Even on such a hot day, you manage to be as beautiful as always, (y/n)-swan,” he comments while you get the cold glass from the tray he holds out. You smile in response. “Ah, true? It might be your eyes, Sanji! You seem to be handling it much better than me.” “Maybe, but my eyes are never mistaken, that’s for sure.” You let him win just that one time, eyeing his proud posture with a soft smirk

• Will do anything for you, whatever you want or think about (he may notice you’re bored and kick Zoro just because you think it’s funny when the two argue). You do recognize what he does, of course, but it’s fun to play around for a little, right? Tease him back

• Unlike Sanji’s teasing, yours will just lead him into situations that will actually fluster him to no end and/or never give him what he want, but it seems more like another reason for him to keep trying and trying, as if he will come up with the right response at the right time, even if you never let that happen

• “How does my dessert taste, (y/n)-swan? Probably very sweet, but not as sweet as you!” As much as you want to let yourself get lost in his compliments and just give up already, you’re not ready to give up on playing with him just yet. “Maybe as sweet as your lips, then?” It’s loud enough for him to understand, but not to make sure it’s exactly what you said. “Wh... What, (y/n)-san?” he mumbles, uncertain and with red cheeks, growing even more out of place when you just chuckle, never answering it

• He will get really jealous when he sees someone else hitting on you. Once, Nami decides to present you someone else so you can hang out with just to reach Sanji indirectly and you play along with it, pretending you don’t see him biting his shirt and dying in silence behind you until you question “how could I want someone else with Mr. Prince right there?” and he miserably tries to play it cool after that

• Sanji will get a little too frustrated at some point and try to make you jealous as well, but it doesn’t really go well because he thinks his flirting just doesn’t work if it isn’t with you, then he notices you’re observing him from the corner of the club and things just get worse, to the point he can barely face anyone when he’s walking away from whoever he tried to use to get to you

• You chuckle as you follow him, pulling him by the arm just close enough to whisper into his ear, “don’t play around, you know that when I catch you, there will be nothing left of you”

.𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟.