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celtigxr · 2 months ago

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THE PINK DREAD - CH. 29 (Masterlist)

Chapter Summary: There is no summary for this. Y'all are going in blind. Word Count: 7913 CHAPTER WARNINGS: Angst, Fluff, Self-Loathing, Depression Sluttiness. Oh, we're still talking about menstrual blood.

Series tags: Aemond x Plus size!OfC, Aegon x Plus size!OfC, Celtigar!ofc, Plot with Smut, mdni 18+, Aemond End Game, Angst, Comedy, The Dragons Don't Dance, slow burn, friends to enemies to lovers, enemies to friends to lovers.

Credits: Lace Banner by Aquazero, pearl divider by Pommecita

Notes: Yes, this chapter be a big girl. Also trying to pretend that ch. 28 not getting as much comments (given what happens in it) does not bother me. I'm totally okay. Really. (morgan freeman: Celt was in fact, totally not okay)

“Princess Helaena!” Ursula said in wonder when Ser Steffon introduced the princess’ arrival. “What a pleasant surprise! We were about to have supper, but you are welcome to join us?”

Helaena smiled politely, her arms woven behind her, “That is a kind offer, Lady Ursula, but I was wishing for Lady Valeana’s company tonight. May you spare her this eve?”

Valeana had been idly biting the nail of her thumb, an excuse to keep her fingers on her lips, trying to reenact what happened on the balcony a couple of hours ago. Aemond had left her shortly after their kiss when they heard her mother and Floris arguing when they stepped foot inside the apartment. He gave her one last searing kiss and told her that she would see him again that night, though did not specify how that would happen. Then he scaled down the side of the castle, to the gardens below, like some majestic silver-haired mountain goat.

Ursula turned to Bartimos who looked just as surprised. The Celtigars were nearly a full unit that evening, save for Clement who had chosen to remain in the pavilions. Floris, who sat as far away from Valeana as possible, had muttered under her breath about how Helaena would be doing them a favour, that there will be finally food for everyone. Comments like these weren’t uncommon, even back on the Isle, Floris would make passive aggressive remarks at how much food Valeana had on her plate during meals. However, Floris was no longer a simple annoyance Val had to endure, she was worse, and Valeana wasn’t just going to ignore her jabs any longer.

Valeana swept herself up from her chair and answered before her father could for her, “I would love to keep you company, my Princess. I was just starting to get a headache– there’s an awful perfumy smell around that reminds me of a desperate old maid.”

Arthor snorted into his drink, and Shyla sniffed the air naively, not aware that it was meant to be an insult. Floris shot her a dangerous look, but ultimately her lips buttoned and the jab went unnoticed by their parents.

Weaving her arm into Helaena’s, she turned to Bartimos, “Is that alright, father?”

Bartimos hesitated, but he knew he could never deny the princess’s request. “Of course, of course. Will you need Steffon to collect you later?”

Helaena answered this time, “That won’t be necessary, Lord Bartimos. I have made accommodations for my friend to spend the night in my bedchambers.”

Valeana raised an eyebrow at her, but didn’t argue. Her father seemed conflicted, but with one sharp look from Ursula, he relented. As a woman who loved networking amongst her sex, she was not going to let her husband hinder a friendship between their daughter and the only daughter of Queen Alicent.

With a nod, Bartimos conceded, “That is agreeable. Though, make sure to return her early on the morrow. I want her ready before Princess Rhaenyra arrives.”

Making that promise, the two girls bid their goodbyes and promptly left. Ser Arryk was waiting for them outside, and dutifully followed them when they left. Valeana sent him a tentative wave and a sheepish smile.

The knight smirked, “Haven’t stolen any more cooking ale recently, have you, Lady Valeana?”

“The night is still young. I may need your assistance again, Ser Arryk.”

He silently laughed, but made no more comments.

After a moment, Valeana leaned into Helaena’s shoulder, her voice a whisper, “...Are you bringing me to…?”

The princess’s smile was small, but knowing, “I am.”

Val ran a hand over her middle, suddenly feeling very nervous. The butterflies had not left her stomach; they flapped wildly at the memory of her first kiss. Her lips still tingled with the memory, desperate to feel the same euphoria again.

She had no intention of kissing Aemond so quickly, so soon. There was a weak moment the night of the Ball, when they were near the act. Had Daemon not interrupted, she wasn’t entirely sure where that night would have led to. However, when her mind was more sober, Valeana decided that she would take things slow with Aemond, since after all, her heart was still pained with his scorn; the monster that Aemond made himself out to be was firmly present in her mind. Even though her anger for him has become a softer presence, it was still there, stirring her paranoia over his true intentions.

But when she looked into his eye, when she saw his smile, when she felt the warmth of his touch, it was so easy to ignore her anxiety. What was left, however, was her guilt, which she did not entirely understand. Aemond was not her husband, they had only reconciled nearly two days ago, so why did she feel like she committed adultery? Mayhaps it was because she had always believed her first everything would be with him. Her first kiss, which she grew up believing was the ultimate act of intimacy, always had to be with Aemond. There was that moment when they picnicked underneath the mulberry tree when she thought he was going to kiss her, but it ultimately never happened. She blamed it on her frazzled and sweaty appearance that had scared him off.

The decision to kiss Aemond was incredibly impulsive. She was driven by the need to give him something that she had never given anyone else. Valeana’s first kiss will always belong to Aemond.

But her first sexual encounter was with Aegon, a fact that she somehow knew would break Aemond. Actually, thinking back on it, Valeana remembered the comments about Aegon he had spat in her direction. Comments that implied that Aemond already believed that something was going on between her and his elder brother.

“If you want pity, Celtigar, go run back into the arms and pillows of my brother. You shall not find it with me.” “Though mayhaps that is what you desire. To be felt up like a common tart.”

And yet he came to her on hands and knees. Did he still believe those assumptions? They were false then, but now, they were not, even if it had only happened once, and it was more one sided, messy and foolishly impulsive. Maybe she should stop drinking, because so far the times she has drunk herself silly, a Targaryen Prince’s mouth ends up on her tit somehow.

… On second thought.

When they began walking up the stairs and entered the iron gates that separated the Royal Wing, Valeana craned her neck around in confusion. This is where the King and Queen resided, not where Helaena and her brothers’ apartments were.

“Where are we going?”

The princess gave her a secretive smile, “To where the sun and moon meet.”

Valeana peered at Helaena, expression full of confusion, “... Helaena, you are dear to me, but can you please speak plainly.”

Her grin widened, but she stopped walking when they got to a door, ornate with polished oak and shiny brass fixtures. Valeana had only been in this part of the castle possibly twice in her lifetime, and one of those times was the other day. When they stopped at this large arched doorway, there wasn’t a single thing about it that she recognized, but it still felt…familiar, somehow.

“We’re here,” Helaena announces with her hands clasped in front of her. She looked between the door and Valeana, and Valeana looked between her, the door, and Ser Arryk.

“Where is ‘here’?” Val raised her eyebrows.

“Queen Aemma’s private quarters,” the princess looked up at the door before running a hand over the brass bars, “It hasn’t been used since she died. Except by my father… and your mother, once upon a time.”

Valeana’s eyebrows dropped, “My…My mother spent time here?”

Helaena nodded, and then moved over to the kingsguard’s side, “It was her favourite place to be… You should head on in. He’s waiting for you.”

Ser Arryk did not meet Val’s eye when she looked at him, almost like he was trying to pretend that he hadn’t heard Helaena. Trying to conserve as much deniability as possible, should anyone come asking questions. What an honourable man, Ser Arryk was, always escorting her and dropping her off in Aemond’s arms.

Valeana bowed her head, “Thank you, Princess.”

With a kind smile and a tilt of her head, she wished her friend a good eve, and then left her alone at the door. Valeana casted an eye up to it, and then down to the handle, only giving a moment’s hesitation before she pulled and turned the loop to yank it open. She entered the vestibule, with tall arched vaulted ceilings and blue tapestries hanging on either side. It was dimly lit with only wall sconces lighting her way, but she could make out the white sheets that covered the furniture in the solar. Her feet softly padded along the carpeted floor, eyes roaming east where she saw a set of stairs leading up to another grand door, likely to Aemma’s bedchamber. Then she looked west, where a small antechamber led way to even larger arched oak doors. They were slightly ajar, with a warm light emitting from beyond.

“Aemond?” Valeana tilted her head as she followed the light. The butterflies were still actively fluttering about in her stomach, even more so now that she approached the threshold. Beyond the doors was a marvellous library, not near as big as the Royal Library, but its decorated and intimate splendor was unparalleled. Curved shelves reached the ceiling, domed with a fresco of a night blue sky and constellations. On the west end of the room was a large arched window, looking out towards the cliff sides of the Keep, where she could clearly see beaches free of commoners. A telescope sat before it, along with a writing desk hidden under a white sheet.

“Queen Aemma loved mapping out the stars,” the sudden appearance of Aemond’s voice startled her. Her body jolted, and when she spun to face him, he was trying to contain his mirth at her reaction. He was seated at a table full of food, a half eaten peach in his hand. “At least, that is what my father told me.”

“Just as much as you love to startle me?” Valeana’s hand was on her chest to control her startled heart, but that was a fruitless attempt. It was beating erratically regardless at the mere sight of him. The light of the hearth beside him lit up his every contour in an amber glow. His jerkin was discarded, as well as his belt and sword that sat next to the fireplace. The buttons of his black tunic undone down to the valley of his pectorals, the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and his hair was loose and untethered, one side brushed over his ear where the strap of his eyepatch went over.

Val suddenly felt very wobbly on her knees. Her mouth watered, and it was not because she didn’t eat supper yet. Perhaps the butterflies in her stomach were actually moths, because they desperately fluttered around inside her, trying to reach Aemond’s flame.

Fucking hells, she thought, openly staring at the way his long legs stretched out before him, taking up as much space as possible. What a terrible week to be bleeding.

“Probably less,” he smirked, as if he knew exactly the effect he was having on her. “Are you hungry?”

She sucked in her bottom lip and nodded, “Ravish–I mean, famished.”

When she made no move to reach for a seat, he raised an eyebrow at her, then pulled out the chair next to him. Blushing heavily, Valeana scrambled to sit down, immediately facing the food. She hadn’t a single thought in that empty little head of hers. Not anything profound, really.

“Are you alright, Valeana?” There was a hint of amusement in his voice, confirming her suspicion that he knew exactly what he was doing.

She slowly turned her head in his direction while he made her plate – soft shell crab, deviled eggs, peeled shrimp drenched in herbed butter. Oysters. There were figs, mulberries, peaches, and pomegranates on the table.

Somehow, by the power of sass, she found her voice, “Are you trying to seduce me, Prince Aemond?”

He chuckled lowly, moving onto his plate, “Woo you, more like. Is it working?”

Tentatively, she picked up her fork and stabbed into a shrimp, “You bring me into a secluded secret library of a late Queen, have almost all my favourite food accounted for, and you–” she briefly gave him a once over, “Shedded layers. It may be working, yes.”

The Prince’s smile widened, enough for her to see his teeth, and she noticed that he had that same lopsided smile she always loved so dearly. Then, Aemond reached for an oyster (already shucked) and tilted the shell back into his mouth, slurping up the contents. The shrimp she was chewing was slowly being forgotten until she was forced to swallow.

“No pearl?” She picked up her goblet to bring to her lips.

He hummed, looking at the empty shell, and then back at her. His eye traveled southward, “Not in this one.”

Swallowing her wine felt like she was swallowing gristle, “Seven, Aemond. When did you get so amorous?”

“I am a man, Valeana.”

She eyed him up and down, humming, “And here I thought you were a cat.”

He pursed his lips in amusement, dropping the shell onto his plate with a clank. Then suddenly, Valeana felt herself being jerked towards him. He had grabbed the chair legs and yanked her closer until her side was cradled between his knees. She stared at him wide eyed and smooth brained.

He took her left hand, the pads of his calloused fingers running along her knuckles, “Would you like to check for yourself?” Val’s mouth popped open at the question, but before she could vocalize a word – or produce a thought, really – he moved her hand into the opening of his tunic, splaying her fingers over the bare skin of his pec, right above his heart.

Smooth, firm, warm. Definitely not a cat.

“Hol–ee, hmmm…” She cleared her throat, eyes glued to the exposed pale skin of his chest. Even if he removed his hand from hers, Valeana was fairly certain at this point her palm was sweaty enough to create a suction. “Def-definitely a man.”

“Are you sure you’re not wholly convinced?” He leaned in until his nose nudged against her cheek. “There’s more to explore.”

Valeana’s eyes fluttered closed, fingers curling over the firm expanse of his chest. She could feel his heartbeat, just as frantic as her own. Suddenly she had no appetite, at least not for food. Her core ached, so much so she rubbed her thighs together, and clenched around the cotton plug. A painful reminder that she could not seek out her pleasure, not in the ways she wanted to. Though, perhaps that was for the best. When her mind found clarity, she would be reminded that Aemond was not entirely forgiven. Though, he was quickly climbing up to that finish line.

“You do not need to make this more difficult than it needs to be.”

No, he was making it so, so fucking easy, and it shouldn’t be. After all he’s done, after all he’s said. No, perhaps the Mother knew what she was doing when she chose this week for her bleed. Aemond needed more time.

“Aemond,” Valeana spoke with a stronger tone. When she tried to pull her hand away from his chest, she found she simply could not. Not because he had anchored her to him, but because the feel of his heart beneath her fingers was the only thing that reminded her that this was real. And it stuttered when she pulled her face away, “It’s… it’s not the right moment.”

She felt her heart shatter at the way he was looking at her. That one lilac eye struggled to keep composure, but she could see the letdown, the sadness, the defeat. He offered her a small understanding smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“I understand. We can finish our meal, and I’ll have a kingsguard bring you back,” his words were monotonous, carefully controlled to conceal his crippling disappointment.

Valeana immediately shook her head, fingers grasping at his heart, “No, no, I don’t want that– I want to remain here with you, Aemond. I just–I’m not ready to go that far. It’s too early.”

Aemond’s face visibly softened, the smile appearing more genuine. His fingers curled around her hand at his chest before he moved his other to glide along the roundness of her cheek, “Hm, I see now. I will behave myself, I promise. Your virtue is in safe hands.”

She smiled back at him, leaning against his touch, “You may covet my lips, though.”

The ends of his coiled smile deepened. With a hum, he leaned in closer, this time his nose bumping against hers, “Good. They were all I hungered for these last few hours.”

Without another word, his mouth was upon hers. The taste of the sea upon his lips, the nectar of peach on his tongue. It was a bizarre combination, but Aemond’s lips were the gates of the heavens, and his tongue might as well have been the fruit of the gods. With grasping hands and greedy fingers, Aemond had maneuvered Valeana onto his knee without breaking their heated kiss.

Her hand was still atop his breast, addicted to the rhythm of his heart and the firmness of his muscle. Her other draped around his shoulder, fingers tangled in the perfect strands of his moonlight tresses. When Valeana felt his hands upon her waist, where his thumbs gently grazed the curve of her breasts, she let out a little whimper. A whimper that forced him to pull away from her, if only a fraction.

“If you make noises like that, I will not be able to keep my promise.”

She softly laughed through her nose, then finally released her hand from his chest, just to move it up the length of his neck and over his cheek. “Then mayhaps we should save the kisses for dessert.”

Aemond made a grunt of disapproval, but ultimately caved, “Hmmm, Fine.”

With a smile she lifted her chin so she could plant a kiss upon his brow, his eye closing for the moment in contentment. They resumed their dinner, though she remained where she was on his knee, and they picked at each other’s plate in idle conversation.

“You used to abhor seafood,” she remarked as he slurped down yet another oyster. “Now look at you. Eat any more oysters, and you really won’t be able to hold onto your promise.”

With a smirk, he tossed another shell onto the pile he had created. No pearls in this batch. Aemond turned to her, still perched on his leg, now licking her butter-coated fingers, the sight of which was absolute torture. His top teeth sunk into his bottom lip, eye glued onto her mouth.

“I never believed they were an aphrodisiac,” he turned away, trying to distract himself with a sip of wine. “At least not for me. Mayhaps I simply have a refiner pallet. Many things that fuel a man’s lust do not have the same effect on me.”

Valeana eyed him skeptically, as she had a sudden growing urge to prove him wrong. Aemond still felt he was better than any man, that his will was mightier in all ways. And yet the yellowed remnants of his love marks still lingered on her breasts, a visual proof that wasn’t the case.

“And what does fuel your lust, my darling friend?”

When Aemond turned to her, he leaned back against the chair to assess her carefully. His hand was on her waist still, securing her back as she stayed perched on him. Long fingers traced along the velvet fabric of her dress, reaching up to the laces on her back.

“You want the truth of it?”

Valeana nodded.

Aemond sucked on his bottom lip as if contemplating if he should give her the truth of it. After a beat of him battling his thoughts, he moved his second hand to her waist, weaving his fingers together so she was caged in his arms.

He dipped his head next to her ear and said softly, “The hardest I have ever been was when I heard you speak Valyrian. I sat there, next to you, a quiet fool, itching to stroke myself.”

A shudder ran down her spine, and she involuntarily clenched her thighs. Valeana raised her hooded gaze to meet his eye, and despite the overwhelming sense of shyness she felt over the confession, she felt bold enough to speak.

“Iksis bona sīr, ñuha raqiros?” (Is that so, my friend?)

Aemond’s eye closed as he grumbled low in his throat. His hands gripped at her dress as he pulled her closer, until her side was fully flushed against his chest, “Gaomagon ao jorarghugon naejot amīvindigon nyke, Valeana?” (Do you seek to torture me, Valeana?)

His voice was a low base in his chest, making the back of her neck tingle, and her face heat up. “You deserve nothing less.”

Aemond’s touch softened at that, but still kept her close. Instead his head dipped so he was in the cradle between her neck and shoulder, resting his forehead there while his fingers gently massaged the curve of her hip.

“You are right,” he sighs. “Mayhaps that is how we should spend the rest of the evening. Torture me with your silver tongue, and make me beg for a taste of it.”

Her breath hitched in her throat. Between the timber of his voice, the words he spoke with it, and the intimate way she was seated on him, Valeana was having a very hard time keeping her convictions. There was just something about him being so pathetic and needy that sent a whirlpool of arousal in her stomach. She could feel herself cave, with every caress of his hands, how they firmly yet softly roamed over the hills of her sides, her back, the tops of her thighs. Aemond’s fingers ghosted just under her breast, never quite touching, but never that far away from them either.

It was getting too much, too over stimulating, that she had to pull away. Valeana pulled herself from his lap with a flushed face, and actively avoided his penetrating stare, which was likely offended that she had removed herself from his orbit.

“It is getting late,” She announced, mind racing, heart pounding, trying to find a way to calm the evening before she did something stupid. She glided around his chair, and started to walk the length of the library, to the east side where she noticed a reading nook nestled amongst the bookshelves, an arched window tucked inside. It was more of a bed than a sofa, with a plush mattress, a collection of pillows and a wool blanket folded up in the corner.

Aemond stood up almost as soon as she did, moving around his chair to reach her. “Do you wish to leave?” There was a slight urgency in his tone, one which she quickly settled by turning around and smiling.

“No. I told you I don’t… But it is late, and the morrow brings us a long day,” she turned around, moving over to the reading nook. “Do you remember how we used to sneak into the library and you would read to me until we fell asleep?”

The sharp edges of his face softened, his eye watching her with such a deep fondness, that had she looked up at him she would have been rendered speechless at the sight. Instead she walked along the bookshelves that surrounded the plush nook, hands moving along the spines, noting how they were all Valyrian.

“Of course I do,” Aemond moved closer until he was at her back. His hands draped over her shoulders, then moved down until they were lacing her fingers and his chin was resting on her shoulder. He folded their arms across her chest, pulling her flushed against him. “How could I forget that snoring?”

Valeana huffed in annoyance, and when he chuckled lowly at the reaction, she spoke a smidge bitterly: “Well, in that case, I can go sleep in Helaena’s room–”

“No, no,” he nuzzled her neck, planting greedy little kisses along it, giving her a field of goosebumps. “You’re staying here, with me. But tonight… It’ll be you who reads.”

Valeana leaned her head back, which only encouraged him more to leave a trail of fire along the exposed flesh in the junction between her shoulder and neck. “You’re a masochist now, Aemond?”

“Mērī lēda ao, ñuha gevie.” (Only with you, my beautiful)

Reluctantly he pulled away from her, unraveling his hands before he could pull her rear against his pelvis to show her just how tortured he actually was. “Queen Aemma has quite the collection. You will have quite a selection to choose from.”

Valeana sighed, her shoulders caving in the absence of his body. She could feel the damp spots he left along the ridge of her neck and shoulder, burning and yearning for more. Wasn’t it she that was supposed to be torturing him?

She couldn’t concentrate as she perused the books, but she tried. Tilting her head, she forced herself to read the titles, quickly translating them in her mind. There were a lot of histories, a lot about astronomy, one book was even about the mating rituals of dragons. Val’s finger lingered on that one, simply because of the absurdity of it.

“Do you have a preference?” She decided to ask, moving closer to the nook, where the books got smaller, more frayed. More personal.

“I would have you read me every single book in this library, if we had the time,” He answered from the other side of the nook, where he also browsed the titles.

“I feel like that would kill you,” she joked, glancing over and taking in his regal profile and the outlines of his chest through the thin material of his tunic.

“What a lovely way to die,” he smiled, tilting his head back at her. “Mayhaps that is when I’ll finally be forgiven. It would be well worth it.”

Valeana’s features grew soft at that. She had no words for him, because she had no words for herself. It was like she was on a battlefield, and the soldiers were versions of her. Those who fought for peace, those that fought for vengeance, all in pursuit of claiming and protecting her heart. Whenever she felt she was close to giving in and forgiving Aemond, and succumbing to her weakness for him, intrusive reminders of what he had said to her would invade the plains of her consciousness.

“If you want pity, Celtigar, go run back into the arms and pillows of my brother. You shall not find it with me.” “I do not give a shit about her. I never have, and the Seven knows I never will.” “What makes you think I’d ever marry you?!” “Get away from me, you pig!”

“But I will spend the rest of my life in dedication to the pursuit of being worthy of your forgiveness. Worthy of your touch. Worthy of your lips. Worthy of the air you breathe. I need you to know that I am yours, should you still want me. If you ever did.”

Valeana blinked rapidly when she felt her eyes start to sting, then directed her attention back to the books. However, she couldn’t even focus on the titles, so instead she reached out and snatched the first one within her grasp. A small, frayed blue book, with an embossed rose on the leather cover, and two simple words gilded underneath, “Prūmia Udrir.” Heart Language.

“I found a book of poems,” she softly declared, gently opening up the cover and seeing the stained, dog-eared parchment. Val smiled fondly at it, “It looks well loved.”

Aemond returned to his side, bringing his scent and heat with him, instantly flooding her mind with longing. Her morose musings were completely forgotten, now that she was in his orbit. Leaning over her shoulder to read the title of the book, his breath tickled her cheeks as he hummed his approval, “Appropriate.”

“Time to get settled in, then,” clutching the book in her hand, Valeana walked over to the nook and sat on the edge to toe off her shoes. Glancing up,she saw that Aemond was doing the same, while also unbuttoning his tunic.

She immediately froze, “Wh-what are you doing?”

He smirked, “Getting comfortable. Generally I sleep in the nude, but… I am supposed to be behaving tonight.”

Valeana’s face turned into a tomato as his hands unfastened the last button of his tunic before he pulled the rest off his head, “R-right…” Words continue to fail her this evening.

Her mouth fell open at the sight of him: remarkably pale skin, chiseled out of marble, every curve and sharp edge of his body was utter perfection. There wasn’t a part on his torso she wasn’t drinking in; Valeana was desperate to memorize every centimeter of skin, right down to the V at his hips, which is where her eyes found rest.

“Hells…”

Aemond slowly padded towards the mattress where she sat, then hooked his finger under her chin to force her to look at him. “My face is up here, sweetheart.”

Valeana swallowed, “I thought I was the one doing the torturing tonight?”

He chuckled, then leaned in to capture her lips in a sweet kiss, “You are already doing a marvelous job without trying. Though, as much as I love to see that hunger-panged look you have, if my body makes you uncomfortable, I can redress–”

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

He grinned broadly, “As my lady wishes.” Aemond then took a moment to assess her state, before tilting his head, “Don’t you wish to undress?”

Valeana flushed vividly, “What?”

“I only meant– wouldn’t you like to be more comfortable? Isn’t that dress incredibly tight?”

It was, like most of her gowns. Even if it was more modest and had less layers, it was still designed to conceal as much of her stomach as she possibly could. Sleeping in it would be uncomfortable. She did have a shift underneath though, and it was burgundy, like the dress, so it would not be sheer. Still, the thought of having such a thin piece of clothing separating her from Aemond was… nerve wracking.

And exciting.

Clearing her throat, Valeana shifted so her back was slightly turned, “Can you loosen these?”

Aemond sat down on the mattress behind her, then gently moved her braid over her shoulder. His fingers grazed along the expanse of her shoulder blades, causing a shiver to run down her spine. Reaching the laces, he untied the knot and began to pull the corset loose, all the while keeping his pointer finger under the hem so he could trail it along her spine. Valeana shut her eyes and sighed, at both being freed from the confines of her bodice, and from the intimate touch.

“Why do you wear so many layers?” His question came softly and curiously.

“To hide my body,” her answer came just as softly.

His movements paused, “Why would you do that?”

Valeana turned her head, her throat bobbing as she swallowed, “Aemond–”

“You have a gorgeous body,” he resumed, finishing off the laces before having his hands crawl around her middle and folding over her belly. Then he tugged her onto his lap, leant in and kissed the back of her neck and along the length of her right shoulder. “You always have.”

Valeana sighed, her head falling back against him. With his hands on her belly, she felt far more self conscious than she did the day his hands and mouth were on her breasts, all exposed and sweaty. But his touch sent tingles of desire and warmth in its wake, and as much as her nature wishes to recoil, she didn’t.

“Aemond–” She pleads his name a second time, whether it is for him to stop or continue, she isn’t entirely sure.

“If you don’t believe me, let me show you,” he reaches down and bunches up the burgundy skirt in his fist, pulling it over her thighs.

“Aemond,” She pleaded a third time, this time with a little more force. She was aroused beyond sense, but the reminder of her moon’s blood was enough to shake her back to reality. Valeana pulled herself off his lap, but didn’t step away from him, just stayed a few inches away as she stood up. “I told you it’s not the right moment.”

Aemond sighed through his nose, his frustration evident, but he swallowed it down. “Apologies,” He ran his hand through his hair. “I promised I would behave, and I am failing.”

“Trust me, Aemond, if it were any other week, I would not want you to,” if she were in any other state of mind, she would have more sense to say no without needing an excuse. But Valeana wanted him, convictions be damned.

He peered at her curiously, “What do you–”

“I’m bleeding,” she smiled awkwardly with a roll of her eye. “An incredible inconvenience, I assure you.”

Aemond blinked at her before his features softened to a slightly amused one, “Ah.” He looked down at the burgundy gown, and realized it all made sense now. With a soft chuckle, he moved his body further into the nook, and beckoned her, “Then we shall be inconvenienced together.”

Valeana rolled her eyes again, shaking her head with an embarrassed grin. “Seven help me… One moment.”

Aemond watched with complete enraptured silence as she pulled off the dress over her head, and then shimmied out of the petticoat underneath. All that was left was the shift she wore, too dark to see through the fabric, but thin enough that he could see the curve of her rear. Especially prominent when she sat down on the edge of the mattress.

Clearing her throat, she bunched up her chemise on her left side, “This will only take a minute.”

Aemond felt a wave of gooseflesh ripple throughout his body at the sight of her wooden prosthetic. It was almost too easy to forget its existence, with how she carries herself as if it were her actual flesh appendage. Though its appearance simply reminded him of his life’s mistakes, and that instantly humbled him. Suddenly he felt so incredibly foolish, trying to seduce her and being greedy for her body, when he already robbed a part of her.

With practiced ease, the type that comes from doing such an act multiple times a day, every day for a decade, Valeana unbuckled her prosthetic from her thigh and slowly slotted it off. She could feel his eye on her, which made her all the more self conscious about it, but sleeping with her wooden leg always made her thighs sore from chaffing, her knee stiff, and her stump itchy from sweat. With a contented sigh, she laid it against the bookcase that framed their alcove, and then slowly unbound the linens around her severed appendage.

Valeana could feel Aemond’s breath on her shoulder, and when she turned to look, he was hovering over her, looking at her leg with an almost unreadable expression. Perhaps it was sorrow and guilt, but there was an underlying anger as well, likely at himself.

Saving him from his self loathing, Valeana pushed the curtain of her shift back over her knee, “Are we settled?”

He shifted behind her, “Not quite.”

Twisting around, she watched as he hooked the strap of the leather patch with a finger and pulled it off his head. His hair fell like a curtain of moonlight around his slender face, shadowing the deep blue sapphire gem embedded in his scared eye. Valeana felt her nose tingle at the sight, as she felt remnants of mourning of the young boy he used to be, his face complete, unshattered, and untouched by violence. After he reached over to place the piece of leather on the bookshelf, Valeana captured the sides of his face with her hands and brought his lips onto hers. Aemond made no movement of protest or hesitation; he fell into the dance of lips, tongue, and teeth with equal longing and need.

Valeana let out a sigh as her back settled in the pillows, lips still locked with Aemond’s. He hovered over her, hands holding himself up on either side of her head. In the end, it was he who ended their kiss, as much as he loathed it. If they continued in this position, he would have his hips rutting in between hers, bleeding be damned.

Valeana gave a little sound of disappointment, which earned her a little smile from the man who hovered over her body. Her hands moved from his face, over his shoulders and clavicle, until they found a home along his chest and abs. That smile broadened.

“Still inspecting?”

“Not entirely convinced you’re not a cat,” she replied, lips pulled into a sheepish pout.

Biting his lip to contain his chuckle, Aemond quickly grabbed the book and placed it in her hand, “Now you’re the one who must behave.” He moved off of her, settling in the space between her and the window, arm reaching out to snag the wool blanket and pulled it over their bodies.

Meanwhile, Valeana moved back so she was in more of a sitting position, and as she was about to open the book, Aemond slotted to her side. His chin rested on her shoulder, and his arm draped over her middle to keep her close. She took a moment to breathe in the moment, allowing a familiar warmth and comfort to fill her bones and relax her shoulders. This felt right. This felt perfect. This felt like something she could do for the rest of her life.

She rested her cheek upon his head and opened the cover, then flipped a few pages before she found the words and began to read. Aemond sighed deeply under her, his eye falling shut at the sound of her timbre reverberating through him, releasing all the tension in his bones and muscles.

And so they remained like that, for a little while, as Valeana read every delicate page she could. Each line more beautiful than the next, made for a tongue such as hers. When she felt the full weight of Aemond’s head on her shoulder, and heard his heavy breathing, she slowly stopped reading. Gently placing the book to her side, she lifted her head and peered to check if he had actually fallen asleep. The loose grip he had on her waist and his closed eye confirmed it. Valeana couldn’t help but smile fondly down at him, looking so peaceful in the dim light. The hearth had dwindled down to red embers, the sconces had lost oil, and the candles were being darkened by their self-snuffers. It was time for her to call it a night as well.

Valeana ran her free hand over the crown of his head, threading her fingers through the silky strands, and ghosting her fingers over the shape of his jaw. He was so unbelievably handsome, it felt like a sin to look at him in this peaceful state. Even his sapphire eye, always open, glaring at her like the midnight sky. Sapphires had always been her favourite, and she wondered if he chose it specifically for that reason, subconsciously or with intention.

Careful not to disturb his slumber, she slid down to a lying position, softly moving his head from her shoulder and onto the pillows behind them. She then positioned her body so it was facing his, making sure to keep his arm draped around her middle, keeping him as close as possible. The book was wedged between them, so she plucked it by the back cover and went to move it to the floor, but the sight of a handwritten note on the back made her pause.

Squinting in the dark, Valeana tried to read the crude attempt at Valyrian script.

“Se vēzos naejot ñuha hūra Nyke jehikagon kesrio syt hen aōha ōños Dōrī isse mēre jēdar Kessa mirre sagon isse sȳndor Ēva īlon ékleipsis arlī”

“The sun to my moon

I shine because of your light

Never in one sky

Will ever be in shadow

Until we eclipse again. - L.”

“Engagement?! What makes you think I’d ever marry you?!”

“Aemond, I– my father—”

“Get away from me, you pig!”

With peridot eyes rolling into the back of her head, Valeana slipped into the void with a cry for help, a cry for him. Then a loud snap, like a clap of thunder overhead, followed by an ear-bleeding scream that would forever echo in Aemond’s skull.

He woke up with a violent jerk, muscles tense, chest heaving. He thought he saw blood on his hands, but he was just fisting the fabric of Valeana’s burgundy chemise. Valeana. She was here, she was with him. They were in Queen Aemma’s library still. She had her back turned to him and he was still holding onto her from behind, moulding his sharp corners with her soft round ones. Something had fallen, he had suspected, which forced him to wake up in a startle. Glancing at the window, he could see rain softly hitting the glass that served as a background for their little nook, but there was no thunder to be heard.

Blinking rapidly, Aemond tried to rid his eyes of sleep so he could peer into the darkness. Tentatively, he sat up on his elbow to cast a look around the library, but found no one. He waited, trying to listen for any sounds that may betray the presence of a hidden figure, but he heard nothing. He shifted further, peering over Valeana’s body so he could crane his neck to see their flanked sides, and that is when he spotted her prosthetic lying on the floor. That is what fell.

The sight of it was agony.

A sharp snap, and a scream. A bone peaking out through torn white flesh, blood on the floor, blood on his hands.

Aemond pulled his eye away from the offending piece of wood, then rested it on her form next to him: curled up on her side, hand tucked beneath the pillow, and softly snoring. Then he trailed his gaze down the length of her body, along the knolls of her curves, down the slope of her hip and thigh. Her legs disappeared underneath the woolen blanket, where he stared the longest.

Aemond was a masochist… But only for her.

He reached out and gently moved the blanket, and then slowly lifted her shift until he could see the rounded end of her calf. A few inches below the knee, soft muscle smoothed around what was left of her calf bone. To drive the knife in, her left leg tangled with her perfect right one. A single foot, a single calf.

Aemond’s fingers trembled when he reached out to touch her knee. He caressed it, as if it were a newborn’s head, fearful that he might damage it further. The tips of his fingers moved lower, trembling more now that he reached the end point of her leg. It was calloused at the stump, likely due to the prosthetic, likely due to years of having to relearn how to walk in ways very few humans would understand.

Was it still painful? Could she feel sharp pain in her knee whenever she walked, but hid it behind a sarcastic smile? His empty eye used to get sharp pains every once in a while, as if a knife had pierced through it again, though that had subsided with age, now it was only a dull sting. More often it was the headaches, like icepicks to his temples, mainly behind his right eye now that it had to compensate for the missing left.

Did she experience the same with her right leg?

“Save your breath, Valeana. You’re almost out of it.”

He made her run alongside his horse.

At the intruding reminder his chest constricted, and he squeezed his eye tightly shut, grimacing at the memory. The sting of his greatest regrets and sins burned behind his lid, tingled his nose, and shook his bones like an earthquake. Aemond grit his teeth so tightly, he could feel it at his temples throbbing as he tried to literally bite back his tears. He was holding his breath, a fact he hadn’t realized until his lungs couldn’t take it anymore, forcing him to inhale sharply and effectively breaking the dam. The trembling that started from his hands now reached every corner of his body, making him shake as if he was caught nude beyond the protection of the Wall.

Aemond gasped as his grief overtook his body. The tears clouded his only eye, spilling down the creases of his cheeks, and dripped down to the point of his chin. He then bowed his head onto her hip, shaking hands grabbing onto her sides to remind himself that she was here, and she was alive. Though perhaps he did not deserve what remained of her. Perhaps he should let her go, into the arms of Aegon, or Jacaerys, or whomever that would make her happy.

His body curled into her side, arms latching around her left leg as he violently sobbed into her hip. The words “I’m sorry” tumbled out of his quivering lips over and over again, a broken prayer, a shuddered plea.

“I’m so sorry, my friend. My beautiful Valeana… What have I done… What have I done…”

Aemond’s unworthy lips kissed her knee and what remained of her lower leg. His tears stained her chemise, head still bowed upon her, a sinner at the feet of the Maiden.

In the sanctuary of the darkness, Aemond freed the beast that he had been afraid of all these years. With green eyes and claws of vengeance, her name was grief, her name was guilt, her name was shame. He could do nothing but present his neck to her, offering up his life and hope it will be enough.

Valeana stirred in her sleep. Her legs moved as she gave a gentle stretch, along with a contented moan. Aemond was forced to pull away as she adjusted herself on the small bed, moving from her right side, onto her left, now facing him.

“Mm, Aemond,” his name tumbled from her pouty lips, while her hand blindly reached out for him.

Mutely, he moved back to her. Lifting her arm so it was draped over his waist, and then placed his own on hers. Aemond then wove his leg around hers, bringing her closer until she was tucked under her chin and secured to his chest.

“Ñuha vēzos,” he whispered into the crown of her head. “Iksan indignus hen aōha ōños.”

(My sun. I am unworthy of your light.)

CHAPTER THIRTY SNEAK PEAK

“Did we not already have this conversation?” He peered at her in confusion. “You told me to stop pursuing her, threatened to chain me to my rooms, and I completely ignored you?” “Aegon,” her tone was a force in its steadiness. Alicent strode over to him, and despite being shorter, it still felt like he was under her. Like he was still a child. “Tell me the truth, for once in your bloody life. What. Are. Your. Intentions?” Aegon’s mouth fell into a pout, his red rimmed eyes stared back at her like a reprimanded puppy. Alicent never swore, he would remember if she did. His mother had a knack of making polite words sound as lethal as a Valyrian steel blade. “To cour–” She did not allow him to finish. Alicent’s hand grabbed his face firmly under his jaw.

Notes: What a couple of sad, sad horny yougens. Anyway, I loved this chapter, and I hope you guys did too. It's a meaty one, with a lot of conflicting feelings, which I hope gives the vibe I wanted to, which is emotional confusion. Also, I just love when strong men get super pathetic. Oh, and one more thing: The Valyrian Moan found in the book is a haiku written by me. It's the only poem thingy that I did not have AI help me write. Haikus are the only thing I can do. It also 👀hints a little bit at the prequel mini series.

Tag: @queen-of-elves, @keylin1730, @anakilusmos, @weepingfashionwritingplaid, @sugutoad, @desireangel, @t0biasparabatai

( if you wish to be tagged for this story, just give me a reply! )

Please do not re post, redistribute or plagiarize my work. The only other place this story is posted on is ao3 under the same username.

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howlingday · 7 months ago

Note

Hi hope you’re doing well. And remember you’re the goat.

Also I have an idea for you to experiment with Jaune as happy chaos from guilty gear instead of being the rusted knight.

"Well, well, well..." The blue figure turned with a wide grin on his face, pulling his pink-tinted sunglasses down the bridge of this nose. "Team RWBY, you finally made it~!"

Before any of them could react, the huntress team was pulled together in a tight hug by the strange man with blueberry-colored skin. As he pulled away, his smile fell a little. Then he scowled. But then he smiled again, snapping his fingers.

"You guys don't remember me, do you?"

"Why would we?" Yang asked, suddenly on guard.

"Should we?" Weiss asked, looking more confused than anything.

"Ah, right. I did get a bit of a makeover." He gave a chuckle before splaying his arms out wide. "It's me, Jaune~!"

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

"So..."

"You're wondering how I turned out like this, right?" Jaune didn't look back as he lead. "You don't have to hide it. I already know everything."

"You probably get along with the Curious Cat, huh?" Yang chuckled. Jaune, however, didn't.

"No." He said, stopping for a moment. "I don't. The Curious Cat is the last guy you should trust here."

"More than Neo?" Ruby asked.

"Neo's not..." Jaune stopped himself. "Well, okay, she's not good, but I'd still trust her more than that damn cat. And if I'm being honest, the only thing you should trust in this place is that thing right up there."

"The... tree?" Blake asked.

"Yup." Jaune nodded. "I've already been up there, I think."

"You think or you know?" Weiss quirked her brow.

"Mm..." Jaune placed a finger to his brow. "Yup! I think I know!"

"I think you've lost it, Jaune."

"Yeah." Jaune chuckled. "I already know that."

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

"...And who might you be?"

Jaune approached the pale woman standing before him. She towered over him, even from a few feet away, looming in her long, black and red dress. Her piercing red eyes threatened to end his life, if such a thing were possible anymore. But she wouldn't try. Not while he had what she wanted.

"The name's Jaune Arc." He bowed. "It's short, sweet, and rolls off the tongue. The ladies love it~."

"Do they now?" She was unimpressed with his words. "And what does Jaune Arc believe he can give me that nobody else can?"

"Only what you desire most." Salem found the remaining relics, the Crown of Choice and the Sword of Destruction, held aloft in Jaune's hands. "That is, if this is still what you want?"

Salem was quiet as she stared at him. All of her time and effort spent delegating tasks, decades to centuries of servants trying and mostly failing to bring her what she most desired, and yet this stranger arrives with the missing pieces to her end goal. It all seemed to good to be true.

"I seem to recall reports of a Jaune Arc working with that fool Ozma. I even recall him sneaking into my Monstro to rescue his current vessel as well, even challenging me before escaping with both the relic and Ozma. And you claim to be the same man."

"I do."

"Then why?" Salem asked. "Why would you allow me to destroy this world after working so hard to defend it?"

"Because," Jaune chuckled, "I want to see a happy ending."

#rwby #guilty gear #happy chaos #jaune arc #ruby rose #weiss schnee #blake belladonna #yang xiao long #salem #plot twist villain jaune?!#nods #plot twist villain jaune

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saphira-artandoc · 4 months ago

Text

C3 Swap AU

Fearne Calloway

•

This post can contain spoilers!

If you wonder what the swap AU is, I recommend checking it out right here!

Major thanks to @theplatinumcritter and many members of the Dorym Nation discord server for helping me with this insane AU, you guys are the GOATS!

Character information

Title: Lady Fearne Calloway, Fey Heart of the First Spark

Age: 24 (born 819 P.D)

Class: Druid (Circle of the Moon)

EXU - Campaign 3

Fearne Calloway is a Ruidusborn satyr. She was raised and lived most of her life in Zephrah with her parents, Birdie and Ollie Calloway. They went to seek sanctuary when she was still a baby, trying to escape the Unseelies and The Sorrowlord Athion Zathuda, her biological father.

She was partially raised by Nell, who taught her about healing herbs and took the same classes as Maeve to become a druid. She wished to repay the kindness The Voice of the Tempest, Keyleth, granted them by giving her family sanctuary. She has a close bond with the triplets, Will and Orym.

By the time she got older, her parents became more absent, working with Ira Wendagoth and successfully stole the Moontide Crown from the Unseelies.

When the shadow assassins attacked, Fearne’s parent thought they were send by Zathuda to get back the crown, only to realize none of them were fey in nature. They were after their leader, The Voice of the Tempest, and almost succeeded in their task, killing Derrig and Will in the process.

Her parents left her to Nell’s care after the attack, believing she would be in good hands. They left Zephrah and work with the Nightmare King since then.

She left Zephrah 4 years later after the attack to find Orym and her parents. She managed to rejoin with the halfling in 842 P.D. and with her parents in 843 P.D. with the help of Bells Hells.

Despite sharing the same last name as Morrigan Calloway, the Fatestitcher, she has never stepped a hoof to the Feywild before joining with Bell’s Hells, and got close to it with the Crown Keepers. She also isn’t 112 years old, since she was born earlier in the timeline and lived in Exandria instead of the Feywild with Morrigan.

Because of her druid Circle, Fearne lacks the help of Little Mister, her canon self’s familiar.

She had a fling with Chetney Pock O’Pea and Deanna Leimert. She is currently in a relationship with Ashton Greymoore.

Masquerade ball

Fearne Calloway manage to steal the original gown from the Dreamscape Theatre costume set, and spruce it up with flowers, feathers and a beautiful pink sheer overcoat.

Her mask is matching her ball gown, with various feathers and flowers surrounding it.

She was Dorian’s plus one at the ball. He introduced her as Lady Fearne Calloway of the Air Ashari.

Uthodurn - Saviour of the Diarchy

With Uthodurn saved, she was able to change her clothes into something more Fey-like, and wear the Gloomscale breastplate and Deanna’s shawl. Her staff changed to match with beautiful flowers growing from it, matching her.

Vasselheim - Fey Heart of the First Spark

In Vasselheim she changed herself once more to be ready for battle… in style! Her dress was changed to a beautiful pink to coral flowy dress shirt and pants. She wears part of FCG’s jacket over her dress shirt, a black corset and the Gloomscale breastplate. She also kept Deanna’s shawl and wears one of Orym’s jade stone on her left leg in a makeshift leg brace. Her staff got even more flowers, following her theme.

Her pupils have an orange tint to them since swallowing Rau’shan’s shard. She has a mark of Asmodeus burning on her central knuckle, from her deal with Teven Klask.

Shard of Rau’shan - titan form

Pretty much the same as canon. The main difference is elements of the clothes are burning, including the Gloomscale breastplate. Every flowers on her also burned away in her transformation.

Feywild

When Fearne is near a gate or inside the Feywild itself, her form changes to a more elongated state and goat-like : her eyes are big and her entire body is covered in fur. Her nails turned into claws and those on her left hand, blackened by the Ciclet of Barbed vision with her time with the Crown Keepers, are longer and sharper.

Relationships:

The Crown Keepers : Fearne’s very first band of misfit. She cares for each of them, especially Opal whom she sees as a sister. When she left with Orym and Dorian, she was worried to leave Dariax and Opal behind but was reassured by the former that they would be fine, and they might even stick with Fy’ra Rai if they cross paths again.

Ashton Greymoore : current partner. Both have feelings for the other but have not labeled their relationship yet.

Orym of the Air Ashari : like an older brother. She knows his pain of losing Will and Derrig more than anyone else. She was worried about him the years following their death and decided to go and find him.

Berenie, Maeve, Lita and Will : they sees her as a little sister. She also sees them as her older siblings.

Dorian Storm : partners in crime. If Orym isn’t supervising them, they will cause chaos. She had a hard time saying goodbye to him, being one her closest friends. When he came back with Keyleth near the excavation site, she run up to him with Orym in tow to greet him back.

Chetney Pock O’Pea : she had a fling with him and Deanna Leimert back in Wildemount. She sees his wisdom and often confides with him, as seen when Ashton almost died following their decision of taking Rau’shan’s shard.

The Calloways : her relationship with Birdie and Ollie is a bit tense due to them leaving her in Zephrah after the death of Will and Derrig, but she still loves them. She got to spent more time with them than her canon counterpart.

Morrigan Calloway, The Fatestitcher : despite not knowing about Morrigan, the hag sees her as an extended granddaughter from Birdie. The hag still helps her and Bell’s Hells, since they are friends with Dorian, the hag’s protégé. If anything were to happen to him, Morrigan would not hesitate to put them all under The Loom.

•

With that, our first character has been revealed! Next in line will be Chetney, who might come later this week.

#fearne calloway #callowmoore #bells hells swap au #c3 swap au #cr spoilers #my art #my au #artists on tumblr

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daenerysstormreborn · 2 years ago

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“The Mummers put her in a pink silk gown and shoved a tourney sword into her hand. The Goat wanted her death to be amuthing. Elsewise …”

“… the sight of Brienne naked might have made the bear flee in terror.” Connington laughed.

Jaime did not. “You speak as if you know the lady.”

[. . .]

“The bear was less hairy than that freak, I’ll—” Jaime’s golden hand cracked him across the mouth so hard the other knight went stumbling down the steps. His lantern fell and smashed, and the oil spread out, burning.

“You are speaking of a highborn lady, ser. Call her by her name. Call her Brienne.”

—Jaime III, AFfC

Stop no it’s so tender. I am OBSESSED with the theme of names + Brienne and Jaime. Genuinely Jaime going from calling her “wench” to attacking men who disparage her and insisting they call her by her name strikes me so HARD. They way they are constant shadows in each other’s narratives now that they’re apart is so. MMM. Both of their POVs are so delectable to read.

#braime #jaime x brienne #asoiaf #jaime lannister #valyrian scrolls #affc

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zweetpea · 1 year ago

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Zhongli x reader The Dragon of Geo (Spicy, no smut)

Summary:

The classic tale of a young lady and a dragon, but with a twist. AU no deities, or Tevat (I’ll still use Liyue and the Qixing just for convenience), no Archons. And I made Shenhe an Adepti because I thought that thematically it fit better. Also female reader.

Notes:

Warning: not for the kiddos! Has foul language and mentions of heat and breeding. And if you want me to write you smut based of the sultry scene feel free to ask.

Feel free to request any genshin ideas

Ao3 version here

Once upon a great beast roamed the sky. His scales, as brown as mud yet they sparkled like crystals. His hair as thick and shiny as gold yet it was softer than silk. His claws as sharp as rocks yet somehow held a gentleness reserved for the mortals of his land. And did he ever love his mortals. Hewent by many names, Rex Lapis, The Great One, Mighty Dragon of Geo, the children often called him Zhongli, but my favorite name for him has always been Morax. Something about it just presented power and authority. To me it screamed “I am your protector! You are mine to love! Though the seasons may change and life caries on for mortals, I will be here to protect you always!”

But those were the foolish wishes of a young girl who knew nothing of the world. A girl who was enchanted by the glimmer told to her as a child to keep her innocent.

He protected us for a millennia, but a century ago he decreed that unless he was given a bride by sunset he would ravage the land. The Qixing gathered everyone together to see if there was anyone who was willing to go. In the end they had to draw up a lottery since no one volunteered. Five years later he demanded another girl. And another after another five years. Some mothers or sisters left instead to protect their family, some had to be carried away screamed and crying. When I was fifteen years old I even witnessed a girl ask that she be escorted there in a carriage with a beautiful white dress. She was convinced that she was going to die and wanted to be pampered and treated like a princess in her last minutes.

I was never convinced that he ate them. I thought that they were a part of his harem and he got bored with them eventually. But it was undignified and unlawful to let a woman marry a man after she had been deflowered, lest she be a widow.

Anyway, it’s now five years later. Liyue is waiting on a letter from one of the four Illuminated Beast. This time 15 years ago Xiao came. He was a beautiful black and teal eagle (A/n: Don’t question the animal forms). 10 years ago Yanfei a lovely salmon pink deer came. 5 years ago an adorable little blue goat named Ganyu arrived with the letter. So this year should be the elegant white crane Shenhe.

Right on time she flys down with the letter in her mouth. I inform her of my name, how I knew her and the other Adepti’s name. “Don’t worry Shenhe, there’s is no need to go back to the others. I’ve been informed that I should wait here until the letter arrives and if it never came I was to return at the end of the day. I am the new bride of the dragon of Geo.”

Well truth be told the reason that I didn’t want to go back to the others was because I had a plan to stop all of this. In the back of my traditional dress I hid a dagger. I’m not much of a fighter but I figured... someone had to try? I guess? I dressed modestly as I figured that he would like it enough to not eat me immediately. If I died in battle I was going to take down Rex Lapis. I don’t need the praise, and I just want my people to live peacefully oblivious lives. In a few centuries this nightmare will become folk lore. A cautionary tale to spook children into being good. It’s finally going to end. I wonder if they’d get most of the details accurate, maybe they’d try to scope out the cave to try and find more details.

We walk out to the middle of the wild and into the mountains. The cave of the beast. Surprisingly it had doors. They’re beautifully sculpted and chiseled with various pattern that made me stop and gape at them in awe.

“This way, young one.” Shenhe motions with her wing. The doors open slowly and I enter the unnatural dark cave.

Once they close lanterns illuminate the corridor and standing before me was a gorgeous woman with long white hair that fades to black at the end, tied in a beautiful braid. “Who...?”

“Right my apologies. It’s still me Shenhe. In the cave myself, Xiao, Ganyu, and Yanfei take on more human characteristics. Come on, we mustn’t keep the master waiting.”

She leads me to the end of the corridor and into a large room. It looks like it had to be a thrown room due to the throne at the far back on top of a short flight of stairs but it feels as if someone could throw a party in here.

“Shenhe. You’ve returned earlier than usual.” A deep voice from behind a burgundy curtain called. His glowing gold eyes peer through the semitransparent cloth. She kneels to him once we reach the bottom of the stairs.

“The mortals came prepared, this time.” She informs the man on the throne. Gold and brown plush pillows surround him as he lay there waiting for his next plaything.

I kneel too to show him that I am as loyal and docile as his servants. “Shenhe you are dismissed.” She exits the room and he rises from his throne and draws back the curtains. “Rise my bride. Rise and look at me.” I do as he commands. I gape with wide eyes at the man before me. Long thick black hair pulled back in a ponytail, he had on a strange white outfit that showed off his chest and yet was like a skirt at the bottom. His arms were black at the shoulder and gradients to a yellow at his hands, I wonder if that was natural or part of his clothes. He starts to descend towards me as I’m standing there like an idiot. He chuckles, his voice even more sultry. “Like a little bunny caught in her predictors sight.” In the blink of an eye he’s behind me, holding my dagger to my throat. His hood most likely fell off as he dashed for me. “You are the only one who has ever tried to kill me. Others have begged or tried to bargain. Some I’ve even fed to Xiao because they only cared about the prestige of becoming my wife.”

“Your eyes... the legends and one own imagination cannot do them justice. I’ve imagined them thousands of times. How could I have hated these beautiful ambers for five years?” I looked up at him as he leaned over me.

“Excuse me? Did you just ignore what I said? Maybe I wasn’t clear enough. Women who try to seduce me are fed to my servants.”

I’m off in lala land and can’t fully register his word. “My father’s probably told me your legend 100 times when I was younger. If you’re going to kill me please let me die with your eyes being the last sight I see.”

“100 times? I could never fathom hearing something 20 times let alone that many.”

“Ironically I am your 20th bride.”

“Do you think that makes you special?”

“That’s for you to decide. Are those horns real?” His horns came up from his head and slanted back then curled back towards the front. I turned around in his hold.

“Yes they are, and they’re vERY—” He cuts himself off as I grab his horn. He groans at the contact dropping my dagger, it clangs as it reaches the ground. “—Sensitive.” He grabs my hips and nearly grinds our waists together. He breathing is heavy as he layers his head on my neck and guides me up the stairs. I almost trip a few times as I have to walk backwards. “If you ever do that again, you won’t be walking for a week.” He pushes me down on his throne. He pins my hands above me.

“Was- was that supposed to be as erotic as you made it sound?” My face feels hot and is undoubtedly red.

He looks at me surprised and then angry. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t take you right here, or better yet call in the Adepti to watch as I fuck you dumb on my cock like the whore that you are?”

“Morax, I know that you probably won’t care but I’d like to ask you a question before you deflower me.”

He looks a bit surprised, probably because of the name I called him by. “... this better be good.”

“Why did you ask for a bride?”

“Why? Why?! I don’t have to tell you anything!!”

“Okay. I’m ready.” I say nonchalantly. This caught him off guard.

“Excuse me.”

“You granted me my question, and from the stories I’ve been told Morax keeps his word. You told me you were going to torture the poor Adepti by forcing them to watch us propagate.”

“Do you just believe everything that you’ve been told or read in a book?” His face like the fabled Jueyun Chili’s.

“I was actually also wondering about those stories. But you’ve only permitted me with one question, so I guess I’ll never know.”

“If you were so curious about me why’d you try to kill me?” He lets me sit up.

“I mean, you are quite well known for your brides going missing and never coming back. It would be stupid not to have some kind of protection, whether or not it would work is a whole different argument. I figured that if for some reason I changed my mind I should still have some protection.”

He smirks at me. “I don’t think that’s you wanting to kill me is the truth. Not anymore at least. You wanted to convince yourself that you would be the hero. But what you really wanted was answers. Answers to the questions that you’ve been tossing and turning in your sleep about. I can see it in your eyes. The was they sparkled when you went to grab my horns. The way you looked over my body as I came closer to you just a few minutes ago. The way you were ready to use your last boon on something that should be so innocent, just so that you could get the answers that were just eating you alive.”

Could he really read you like an open book? One with the letter printed big and bold? “Okay, you forced me to face a truth I really didn’t want to confront. What does this mean now? You know that I won’t try to kill you, you know that I don’t want your power, and you know that I’m not gonna beg for my life or try to bargain for the sake of Liyue. So what will you do now?”

“It’s been a long time since I’ve had someone who’s interested in history and my stories stumble into my life. I’d like to keep you around for now.”

“What happens when you don’t want me anymore?” He walks back to where he dropped my dagger and comes back with it. He makes a slit on his palm and smeared the golden blood on my forehead in a single line.

“I make this contract to you that should I get bored of you that you may leave this place and never return. Once you wash off my blood the contract with solidify.”

(A/n: just go with it)

“Well what happens if you take my virginity then get bored of me? It wouldn’t be proper for me to marry another.”

He makes another slit on his palm as the first healed already. Then drags another line across my forehead. “If I am to take you, let our first contract become null and void and I will make you my wife.”

“Does this mean that I may ask you anything that I want?” My eyes widened probably sparkling.

He chuckles. “How about you go explore while I um... ahem, straighten up.” He gestures to the tent in his pants.

I blush and look away. “Right! So Um, bye!” I run from the room to the door on the left of the main entrance to the throne room.

<><;><><>

I didn’t see him again until dusk that same day. I got well acquainted with the rest of the rest of the adepti in their human forms. I also found water to wash off his blood. He found me wandering around and brought me to a bedroom.

“This will be your room. Mine is just across the way if you need me.”

“Thank you.”

“Think nothing of it. This is my only article of clothing and if we were in the same room then I’d be too overwhelmed by that little body of you little bunny to resist.”

“Um, will I have more than one piece of clothing?”

“I’ve already asked Shenhe to get your clothes from your father. I believe that some of the other citizens have given you presents as well. Something about this being a change for the better.”

“They probably think that if I’m moving my clothes here that you’ve accepted me and won’t seek another bride at least for a few decades.”

“By then who knows what invention they will make to stop me. I might be done for.”

“I don’t think so. You’re the oldest documented creature in the world!”

“And yet you still wonder why I want a bride.”

“Your lonely?” He goes into his own room and closes and locks the door. “But what about the Adepti!”

“Good night bunny.” He says through the door.

“That not my name!” I shout my name to him.

<><;><><>

3rd person POV

When Shenhe reached Liyue she was confused about the what the people were doing. Most were celebrating. But there was a lone man in the background shaking and trying to stay calm. When she arrived the celebration stopped dead in its tracks and everyone looked panicked.

“Where is the new brides father?” No one new who she was talking about so she informed them that a new bride had offered herself up. The brides father steps up to Shenhe and asked what happened to his daughter. She asks for your clothes and tells everyone that the girl was alive and well.

After that everyone ran back to their homes and grabbed something nice to give her for the new bride. They all tagged the gifts so the bride knew, who gave her what.

<><;><><>

1st person POV

I found the gifts in my room. Very pleasant silk clothes and finely made hair pins, combs and brushes. A few even sent toys. ‘Wait, they think...’ I thought as my face heated up. ‘No, no. Get those disgusting perverted thoughts out of your head girl! He’s just keeping you around for entertainment!’

<><;><><>

The next day at breakfast I started asking him questions.

“So if you only fed a few to Xiao what happened to the rest?”

“Well I either got tired of their nonsense and killed them or they ate a Jueyun chili and died. The ones I fed to Xiao I turned into mice first. And the rest of them who left behind bodies were buried.”

“They’re real? Jueyun Chili’s I mean.”

“Of course.”

“Are they really as hot as a thousand fires?”

“Oh no, it’s more like ten thousand.” He chuckles.

“Are you making fun of me? I really am curious!”

“I know. You’re just too cute Little Bunny.” He smirks. “They are spicy enough to kill a mortal with a single bite. Even the smallest nibble would kill a fragile soul.”

“Are you going to set a limit to how many questions I get to ask you per day?”

“Why would I do that? That would just restrict my fun!”

“I just don’t want to make you annoyed.”

“You are very interested Little Bunny.” He chuckles again, as I blush.

“Are your arms... naturally like that?”

“Yes.

...it’s how I look because I my dragon form.”

“Right, Shenhe mentioned that in this cave you all transformed into human like beings. Why is that? What is it about this cave that allows you to transform.”

“I was the only one able to shape shift. They all longed to have the ability to have a human form. I carved these halls and cast a spell over this place that allows them to transform into whatever human form they desire.”

“I’m happy for them!”

“As am I.”

<><;><><>

After a four months I was still living with them and it was reaching near my birthday.

“Hello Morax! Do you want to know why today is so special for me!”

“I’ll bite, why?”

“I’m 21 today! It’s my birthday!”

“Birthday?” He looks confused.

“Well yeah! Mortals have this tradition called a birthday where we celebrate the day that we were born and how many years we’ve been alive!”

“Well good Birthday to you then.”

“Silly! Mortals say happy birthday and whoever is having the birthday receives presents. So can yours be you telling me stories from the millennia that you protected Liyue? Please?”

He looks at me like I’m crazy. “You are certainly interesting. You can ask for anything and you ask for that?”

“I wasn’t sure that if I asked any other day that you would tell me stories.” I look down in embarrassing.

He pulls me onto his lap as he sits on his throne. “I’ll tell you anything that you want if you tell me what else you want for your birthday.”

“Um, well I guess... the only other thing that I’d want is to maybe go outside. Only for an hour or two. It’s just, I haven’t been out since I moved in and I’d like some natural sunlight.”

“I’ll do you one better. As long as myself or one of the Adepti are with you, you can go out anytime.”

“Really?” My eyes shine brightly. He nods. “Thank you so much!” I squeal and hug him, as well as giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“Do you want to go now?”

“Just let me hug you a little longer.” I request a bit embarrassed.

<><;><><>

It’s getting close to a year now and I’ve noticed that Morax seems withdrawn from me.

“Hey. Morax? Rex Lapis? Zhongli? Are you okay?” I knock on his door and don’t get a reply. Xiao is walking past when he decides to pull me away from his masters room. “Hey what was that for?”

“You’ve made it farther than most. Except for one. Guizhong, the first bride.”

“What happened to her?”

“The legends you’ve been told are wrong. Guizhong offered herself to the master. She was much like you. Curious, fearless, trusting but not naive, but the biggest difference is that she could tell him to back off. You just let him tease you like a masochist.”

“Okay so why isn’t she here?”

“He had never had a lover before, he was possessive over her. And as time went on she started to hate him. And she flung herself off of the balcony in his room.”

“Oh my goodness, poor Morax.”

“On top of all of that she was his first love.”

“Xiao please, help me get in there! I want to let him know that I won’t leave him! That I want to stay with him!”

“Luckily I have the only other key to the masters room. I have to warn you though, he’ll be in his dragon form but it’ll be only a tenth his true forms size.” He unlocks the door and I rush in to the lavish room. It’s the most beautiful room in his palace. He lays motionless in his dragon form. Around his bed. In this form he huge. 50 feet long, brown scales, gold locks and curly horns. The legends really don’t do his majestic beauty justice.

I rush to his side and hug his head in my arms. He’s very thick though so I can’t get my hands all the way around. “I’m here, and I’m not going to leave you. You’re stuck with me whether you like it or not.”

He lets out a small roar, something akin to a whimper.

<><;><><>

I’m in my fifth year staying with Morax, and I’m madly in love with him.

On this wonderful day all of the Adepti are running around the hall in a panic.

“Ganyu what’s going on?”

“Well um... maybe you should stay in your room for a few days to about a week... and lock the door... and hide if someone tries to come in.”

“Ganyu, where is Morax?”

“Please for your own safety stay away from the master this week.”

“But-” before I could ask her anymore questions she rushed off. ‘Morax what are you hiding?’ I thought. I know that it’s rude to go into someone’s room without their permission but I am supposed to be his bride so surely an exception can be made just this once.

I slip through the door and the room is almost pitch black save for a few candles. His balcony door is closed and his curtains are drawn. I hear rustling around the room and feel arms snake around my waist. “What are you doing here, my cute little bunny?” Morax’s voice sounds strained, and yet hungry. Husky and low and so sultry. As he spoke that into my ear his hot breath hitting the shell I almost melted right there.

“Morax? What’s going on?”

“Seems there are stories that even my little scholar doesn’t know. Once every 100 years or so I go into heat, it’s a time period called breeding season. You seem so ravenous right now.” He groans in my ear and suddenly I feel my underwear becoming damp. “Don’t you know how rude it is to enter someone’s room without knocking? I think that you need to be punished.”

A small squeak was all I could muster as he threw me over his shoulder and walked me over to his bed. He dropped me down onto it and made quick work in getting rid of my clothes, leaving me in only my underwear.

“Naughty little thing aren’t you.” He teased as he felt my slit through my underwear.

“Morax, please. Stop teasing me, and just fuck me.” I whimper.

“Eager are we?” He smirks.

“I really love you and I want this. Please, let me help you. I want to help you, I want you!”

He blushes at my confession and gently smiles at me. “Whatever my love wants, she will get.”

<><;><><>

“Do you think that I’m pregnant?”

“I’m not sure. I fucked you good though.” He teased.

“Yeah and I can’t feel my legs.” I deadpan.

“What a shame. Looks like you can’t leave then.” He snuggles closer to me as the week of his breeding period is over.

“I love you.” I tell him.

“I know you’ve practically chanted it this entire week.”

“Well you better get used to it because you promised to marry me if we had sex.”

“I’ve known for a while now that I wanted to marry you.”

“Does that mean that I can touch your horns whenever I want?”

“Didn’t you get enough of that this week?”

“I like your horns, I find them very cute and so smooth.” I smile as he flushes red.

“Given the chance to become immortal and live with me forever, would you take it?”

“Staying young with you forever? Yes please, where do I get this immortality?”

“The Valberry. A single bite will give you keep you young forever and you will get to be with me, forever.”

“Really? Screw til death do us part! I want you to myself forever!”

<><;><><>

“Do you Rex Lapis, The Great One, Mighty Dragon of Geo, Zhongli, Morax, take this woman to be your wife for eternity?” Yanfei asks.

“I do.”

“And do you-”

“I do!”

“She doesn’t even need to think about it, that’s what I like to hear! I now pronounce you husband and wife.” We embrace is a long loving kiss.

All of Liyue cheers at the sight of their protector finally being satisfied.

After the wedding we went back to the palace and Morax lays me down on our bed and crawls on top of me.

“I hope you’re ready for me to fuck a baby into you.” He licks his lips with his long dragon tongue.

“We don’t have to rush anything we’ve got all this time in the world.” I smirk at him.

“I am your protector. You are mine to love. Though the seasons may change and life caries on for mortals, I will be here to protect you always. I love you bunny.”

“I love you too Morax.”

#zhongli #zhongli x reader #zhongli x you #zhongli x y/n #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin zhongli x reader #zhongli genshin impact #genshin impact zhongli #genshin x you #genshin x y/n #Genshin Zhongli x you #Genshin Zhongli x y/n

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monstersandmaw · 2 years ago

Text

Female knight x lady - part one?

Disclaimer which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

I've had this knocking around for ages, and I don't know if I'll continue it, but I fell in love with all the characters anyway and figured someone might enjoy it. It was based on a prompt that I can't find now, but ran along the lines of: "Female knight looking for a Lady to serve. Experienced in monster slaying."

Wordcount: 4149 Contents: Buff, tough, butch knight seeks employment from a local lady, featuring the ugliest horse in all the land, a dog named Muffin, and a brother who just wants his sister to be happy and safe... Fleetingly suggestive moments, but nothing super nsfw.

“Here goes nothing,” she sighed as she drove the nail into the village noticeboard with the pommel of her dagger and stepped back to look at her chicken-scratch writing. “Fuck,” she added as she glowered at it and saw the way her hand had smudged the bottom of it.

“Female knight looking for a Lady to serve. Experienced in monster slaying. Find me at the Bleeding Goat until the day after the Spring Equinox.” At least, if she squinted it still looked like ‘Spring Equinox’. If she didn’t, it looked like ‘Stink Jurybox’ or even ‘String Fairyfox’.

“Fuck,” she said again, and turned away. It would have to do. She didn’t have any more paper anyway.

And with that, she led her enormous war horse down the road towards the Bleeding Goat inn. Maggot was a vile mare by anyone’s estimation, but Vika loved her dearly. Built like a brick shithouse, with a shaggy, yellow-ish white coat, pink eyes, and a propensity for biting anyone who came within a three yard radius of her, the mare wouldn’t have won an equine beauty contest if she was the last horse in the land, but she was loyal to Vika, and could keep up a steady trot for days without breaking a sweat. She made a great windbreak too, if the need called for it, and her hooves were the size of a large buckler shield. Once iron-shod, they were lethal when she reared up or lashed out.

The ostler at The Bleeding Goat almost didn’t take her.

“Size of that beast,” he muttered as Vika led her into the fresh stall. “Looks like it might eat one of my donkeys whole if I turn my back!”

“She won’t trouble the others if they don’t trouble her,” Vika growled down at him.

“If you say so,” he said, giving her the once-over too as he looked back over his shoulder at her.

At six foot three, with broad shoulders, thick, wild, dark brown hair that resisted almost every attempt at combing, a jaw like an anvil and a glare to make a dragon nervous, Vika was only distantly aware of the little man, the way a lion might briefly take note of a mouse in the grass.

“Like horse, like rider,” he muttered as he shut the door on Maggot’s stall. He reeled backwards and tripped over his own heels when Maggot lunged for him, teeth bared, red eyes rolled to show the whites and her lopsided, wolf-bitten ears pulled right back against her matted mane. “Fucking hell,” the ostler yelped as he scrabbled to his feet. “Look after it yourself!”

“Suits me,” she said with a shrug. “You never gave me the chance to offer.”

“Bitch,” he spat as he slunk out of the stable yard, nursing a bruised backside and a wet patch where he’d fallen on the muddy ground.

“That’s ‘Dame’ to you!” Vika yelled after him. When he stopped and lurched back around to goggle openly at her, she offered him a cold, feral grin and tapped the pattern of embroidered lilies and swords on her padded brigandine with her thumb. “Dame Vika of Sharkshoal Point.”

“Right. Sorry, m’lady. Ma’am. Dame…”

She snorted and turned away just as Maggot whickered in a way that meant she was thoroughly amused with her own antics. Vika poked her in the chest and she stepped back from the stable door to let her owner in, and with practised movements that felt almost meditative, she had untacked the horse and rubbed her down with a handful of straw. The bran mash and oats she’d paid for were brought to her by a trembling stable lad who had stared up at her from over the stable door with wide eyes until Maggot had neighed with soft, enquiring interest and he’d practically flung it over the door and bolted for the kitchen door of the inn. Anyone might have thought Maggot was a roaring dragon by the way he’d reacted, but it was a common enough occurrence that neither mare nor knight paid it any mind.

Vika spent three days at the inn.

She took the time to sharpen all her numerous blades, not just the greatsword she usually kept sheathed on Maggot’s tack, and she even managed to acquire a needle and thread to darn up a few slashes in her padded brigandine. Her needlework wouldn’t have passed muster in the house of a lady, but delicate embroidery wasn’t the goal. She could make two pieces of fabric meet and stay together well enough, and that would have to do. She could also sew up a person if push came to shove, and she bore the scars of her own neat stitching in a number of places about her body as proof.

On the fourth day, while the lively little town was setting up for the Spring Equinox celebrations, a man entered the tavern’s common room and looked around, asking for the ‘female knight’ who’d placed the advert on the board.

She tensed but let the scene play out, watching as the cute serving girl flushed and pointed across the room at her.

The man turned and cocked an eyebrow when he looked Vika up and down, but he thanked Ella and wove his way carefully between the tables. He was wearing the practical garments of a labourer, with a long tunic that covered his hips and a belt around the waist, but the fabric was far finer than any Vika had ever clapped eyes on, and his fur-trimmed cloak looked soft enough to swaddle a baby. His boots were worn to the point of comfort, but not falling apart, and at his hip he carried a slender sword with a silver pommel.

“Forgive the intrusion,” he said with a polite incline of his head and an accent that betrayed him as nobility as surely as the gold stitching on his scabbard. “But are you the knight who placed the advertisement on the noticeboard? You’re looking to serve a lady?”

“I am,” she said, blunt and direct as ever. “Vika,” and she stuck out her hand to him.

He shook it without hesitation and revealed a strong, firm grip. “Lord Roland. Brother of the Lady Elayne Drummond,” he added with a friendly twist of his lips.

He was attractive, for a man, with big, brown, puppy-dog eyes and russet brown hair that fell in easy waves around his ears to brush the fur of his cloak. He had a short beard that was well-maintained, and his skin had the healthy glow of one who had never missed a meal a day in his life and spent much of his time out of doors.

“May I sit?” he asked, eyeing the chair opposite hers across the table.

She glanced down at the throwing knife she’d been in the process of sharpening, and at the black grime that coated her fingertips and around her nails from the oil and the whetstone, and felt a touch of shame beside his immaculate appearance, but she nodded all the same. “Sure. Make yourself comfortable. Can I get you something to drink?” she offered.

He smiled at that and nodded. “The ale here is the best in town,” he said, looking over his shoulder and beckoning over the serving girl with dark eyes and curly, black hair.

“M’lord?” Ella chirped and then shot Vika a smile. She’d flashed her the same smile on Vika’s first night, and again when Vika had made it clear in which room she was staying, should the young woman feel like joining her when she’d finished work. Ella had, and she’d fallen apart with the same glorious light in her eyes under Vika’s mouth and with her fingers buried deep inside her. They’d not met since, but they’d been easy in each other’s company ever since.

They ordered their drinks, and Roland turned back to Vika, resting his forearms on the table. “I suppose I should ask the reason you’re placing advertisements on public noticeboards instead of serving with the king, or even the knight who gave you your title to begin with.”

“A fair enough question,” she shrugged. “He died. Of old age, mind you. I served Gwilym of Sevenoaks from the time I was first raised to the order until two years ago. After his death, I decided to travel. Found myself here, and decided it was time to find myself a new place to roost.”

“Your advertisement said you’ve slain monsters…?” he asked just as their tankards arrived.

“Thanks,” Vika murmured to Ella as she slid it across the table to her, and then looked up at Roland and shrugged. “Yeah. But nothing that didn’t deserve it first, you know? There was some sick fuck who was kidnapping maidens to feed to a dragon, so I went to the dragon and found out what was really going on, challenged the fuck to a duel, he ran, I put an axe through his skull before he’d cleared the trees. Then there was a vampire that had gone feral back near Reaver’s Canyon, and she refused to let me chain her up til the bloodlust faded. Went into full shift, came at me, and went for my neck —” she bared the side of her throat to Roland where the skin was puckered. “Near tore me open with her fucking claws, but I staked her and that was that. Cauterised it with my own dagger. Nearly fucked up the temper on it too,” she added as an afterthought.

Roland cleared his throat and shifted in his seat, and she wasn’t sure if he was impressed or uncomfortable. Again, that wasn’t an uncommon reaction for folks to have to her.

“Right. Well, you clearly know what you’re doing…” he said in his clipped, aristocratic tone. “I do have one more question.”

“Ask away,” she said and drained a third of her tankard in one go. “Ah, fuck me, you’re right. That is good.”

“Right,” he chirped again, shuffling slightly in his seat. “My sister is… Well… She’s… She’s a lady… you understand…”

“Sisters of Lords usually are,” Vika growled. “What’s your point?”

“Quite, but… while your… um… your deeds are certainly impressive — and if you say you served with Sir Gwilym, I can’t argue that he knew good character when he saw it — I must say that your language is… uh…”

“Unbecoming of the knightly order?” she said. “Don’t worry. I can hold my tongue when I have to. I’m just tired and a bit run down. I apologise. I can watch my mouth, if it offends the lady.”

Roland blushed. “You know, it probably wouldn’t offend ‘the lady’, if I’m honest,” he sighed. “It’s just… Well, you understand. Decorum and all that.”

“Yeah, I get it. So is there an opening at the castle or not?”

He nodded. “I think you’ll fit in just fine, but as a formality, I’d like to extend a trial period to you.”

“Oh, Roland,” she grinned over the rim of her tankard. “Never give a knight the challenge of a trial.”

His answering smile went all the way to his big brown eyes, and he raised his own tankard to her. “I look forward to meeting you in the lists, Dame Vika.”

She snorted and drained her ale. “Ready when you are. Just need to grab my horse and my gear.” Roland slid two coppers onto the table and she frowned. “Thought I said I’d pay?”

“I’m the one interviewing,” he shrugged as he stood and made his way past Ella to the door. “You can leave a tip if you like.”

“Oh, I already tipped her,” Vika purred, sliding a silver coin into Ella’s palm while the young woman blushed prettily and tried to hide a smirk behind a dip of her head. “Bring my saddlebags down to the stables, love? They’re all packed up in my room,” she asked before following him towards the stables.

A magnificent black palfrey, still wearing his gleaming tack, stood in the stable next to Maggot’s, staring wide-eyed and stock-still at the mare with a look of abject horror on his face so comical that Vika guffawed when she saw him.

“That’s…your horse?” Roland asked as he saw Vika hang her arms over her mare’s stable door and dangle her hands in a ‘come here’ gesture at the mare.

“Yeah,” she sighed. “I know. Before you say it, we’ve heard it all before. But she’s everything to me, alright? Wouldn’t trade her for a high-stepping prancer like that for the world.”

Roland’s horse snorted, offended.

“Fair enough,” he said, and swallowed thickly. “Come on, Lancer.”

Vika rolled her eyes and hefted her own saddle off the rack near the door and slung it over the stable door. She tacked her mare up in silence and led her out into the yard to mount up after Ella brought out her saddlebags and Vika winked at her just to watch her blush again. “Thank you, love,” she said. Damn, but the girl was pretty.

Ella rested her hand boldly on Vika’s thigh as she looked coyly up at her and said, “It’s been a pleasure, m’lady.”

The ride to the castle took twenty minutes, and passed through some of the loveliest countryside Vika had ever seen. Deer scattered from a nearby field into the oak and beech trees on their right, and as they urged their horses into a canter, Maggot threw in a little buck of happiness and Vika laughed, patting her neck as she sat it with familiar ease.

“I don’t mean to be rude,” Roland said as they continued to canter, his palfrey slightly in the lead and looking wary about the lumbering beast a pace or two behind him, “But how did you come by a horse like… that?”

Vika looked down at her mare’s boulder neck and shoulders and sallow, flaxen mane, listening to her dragon snorts as she heaved up the hill. It sounded like a hell of a lot of effort, but she could outlast any fancy racer once the quarter mile marker had been passed. She wasn’t fast, but hell, she had endurance.

“Saved her from a slaughterhouse,” Vika called above the wind in their ears. Her own long hair streamed behind her, probably tangling into an even worse bird’s nest, but she couldn't have cared less after days cooped up in the tavern. She’d expected to have her advertisement ignored, and simply to move on while the town celebrated equinox, but this was infinitely more attractive.

Roland’s horse put on a sudden spurt of speed, nudging from canter to a ground-chewing gallop, but Maggot just ploughed on at the same stubborn canter, pounding her great hooves into the soil until Roland sat back in the saddle and his fancy prancer slowed with a frustrated toss of his head. “A slaughterhouse?” he asked.

“Yeah. They thought she was far too ugly to make a destrier, and too mean to make a carthorse. I took one look at her and bought her. She was a year old at the time, and already built like a siege engine. She could teach mules about being stubborn too.”

“Something I sense you two have in common?” he said, and because he said it not unkindly, Vika laughed.

“You got me there,” she said with another laugh. “So what’s your sister like? And why is she looking for a female knight, specifically?”

He slowed Lancer to a brisk trot, and Vika nudged Maggot up beside him, instinctively tugging the reins to one side when Maggot went to bite the destrier’s glossy, black rump on the way past.

“Ah, none of that,” she barked at the horse, and for once, the mare listened, plodding along like an aged plough horse.

“Elayne is…” Roland began, and then faltered, scrubbing his hand over his face. “She’s beautiful, educated, beloved…” he said, and Vika frowned. When he looked askance at her, he sighed and the weight of it dragged his shoulders down with it. “She’s miserable. Our father… well, he loved her more than anything, but he kept her penned in… like a bird in a cage. She can insult you in about fifteen different languages, but she’s got no experience of any of the places where they speak them. Not even of our own country, really.”

“Sounds lonely,” Vika offered, and not without some sympathy. She’d travelled, and she’d met her fair share of courtly folk before. It wasn’t all it was made out to be.

Roland nodded. “Yes. I think… now that father’s dead, she’d like to see something of the world.”

Vika raised her eyebrows. “And you want someone to go with her?”

“Precisely. We have contacts all across the land,” he said. “She’d never want for a place to stay, but it’s the in-between that worries me. There’s no disguising we’re a wealthy family, and if someone figured out who she is, she could be taken for ransom, or harmed, or… It doesn’t bear thinking about. I can’t go with her because someone would have to run our estates in her absence.”

“She manages that now then?” Vika asked and he nodded.

“Yes. Father taught her everything, and, to my shame, I never had much of a head for it; not the way she does. She’s a natural. I can manage though,” he added, cheeks heating. “It’s not like it’d fall apart completely without her, but… yes. She’s the one who manages the day to day of the castle and the estate finances.”

“I’m surprised she’s not got suitors lining up from the castle gates to Southport,” she snorted.

“Oh, she has,” he laughed.

“None of them good enough?”

Again, Roland barked a laugh. “Seemingly not. Look —” he said, and pointed with his gloved right hand as they rounded a bend in the road and the trees drew back a little way. “That’s Crow’s Nest.”

Vika followed his gesture and spotted the dark castle on the hill easily enough. “Impressive,” she murmured.

“Think your ugly mare can beat my Lancer to the courtyard from here?” he asked.

Maggot was already lurching forwards into a determined canter before Vika had processed the question. “What did I tell you about knights and challenges?” she yelled over her shoulder at him as they took off with an ungainly jolt.

Lancer, of course, was off like a hound after a hare a second later, his silky tail held high as an officer’s plume, but after a mile, he began to slow while Maggot just thundered on like a boulder down a mountain. Vika just sat forward a little in the saddle and gave the mare her head to set her own pace. They overtook Lancer on a corner by an oak on the last stretch and Vika yelled, “I hope they let us in without you, Prancer!”

“You’d just batter down the gates anyway!” he roared back, laughing.

Maggot won by a country mile, though mostly through grim determination and grit than anything else. Her sides heaved by the time she got to the barbican gate, and Vika was forced to sit back and ease her into a trot before the archers on the gate started to shoot at her.

Lancer appeared a few minutes later, his deep, black chest rimed with foam and his nostrils flared wide while Vika was still walking Maggot in a lazy circle just out of bow shot, and Roland shook his head. “Damn,” he laughed. “I’d love to see Maggot race Crocus.”

“Crocus?”

“My sister’s gelding. Don’t ask about the name — something to do with saffron and the fact that he’s probably the most orange horse you’ll ever lay eyes on. Open the gate!” he added in the same breath, and the portcullis rumbled up.

“Bit extreme, isn't it? We’re not exactly at war…” Vika muttered as the ironwood frame ground upwards into the bastion above and Lancer ambled in like he was the lord of the castle, not Roland. Maggot eyed the murder-holes with deep suspicion, and then followed the palfrey inside.

Roland shrugged. “There’s already been one attempt on both my sister’s life and my own since our father’s death,” he said, and all the jollity of the race evaporated from his handsome, boyish features. “Can’t be too careful.”

“Shit,” she hissed. “I can see why you’re not celebrating the Equinox here,” she commented, looking around and finding the castle bailey empty of all the accoutrements of celebration like a mummers’ platform and festive stalls.

“Not this year. We’re funding the festivities in the town though,” he said, “To make up for it. But we’re not hosting anything here. Elayne is devastated,” he added as he sprang lightly down from Lancer’s saddle and loosened the girth while a stable hand strode over to greet them. “And very angry with me.”

“Careful,” Vika advised as a second stable hand approached her. “She’s… not the friendliest.”

“Right…” the young man chirped, faltering. “Uh… you want to lead her in then?”

Vika saw her mare settled and rubbed down, and when the stable hand promised to feed her in an hour’s time, after the strain of the race had faded from her body, Vika relaxed a little. He did know what he was doing after all. “Don’t shut yourself in there with her though,” she advised him while the mare rolled her red eyes at them, and the young man nodded.

She hooked her saddle bags over one arm and strode after Roland to meet him at the castle entrance.

The next few hours passed in a blur, but after she’d bathed and been given a new set of clothes, which not only fitted her but actually suited her, by a tailor who seemed to have magicked them out of thin fucking air, Vika meandered down towards the great hall.

A massive wolfhound lay sprawled across the doorway ahead of her, and just as the sole of her boot touched the marble entrance hall floor at the base of the stairs, a young woman emerged from a doorway on the other side, and the wolfhound looked up. His shaggy, bull whip tail began to wag and he whined and wriggled on the floor like a puppy as the woman approached, unaware of Vika’s presence behind her on the stairs.

“Oh, Muffin!” she giggled, kneeling beside him and playing with his ears and his bearded chin.

Her dress — a silvery, iridescent blue that shifted as Vika stared at it — pooled around her like a cloud on a summer day, and Vika watched as the dog floundered into a sitting position and tried to lick the woman’s face. She leaned back, laughing, and then caught sight of Vika as she turned her face away.

Vika, a woman who rarely found herself without retort or reposte, stood speechless as the young lady looked up at her and parted her lips in a soft ‘oh’ of surprise.

Vika was no stranger to beauty. From milk maids to marquesses, she’d seen it all, but this woman, with her smooth skin and warm, honey-coloured hair coiled up in pearl-studded waves, her flowing silk dress and bright, blue-grey eyes, gave new meaning to the concept of beauty. “Fuck,” she breathed, too quite for the lady to hear.

“Hello,” the lady smiled. The dog had gone still and was staring at Vika as though he was still deciding whether to launch himself at her or let her approach. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.” And with that, she rose like a dancer and crossed to her.

Standing in front of her, she was a foot shorter than Vika, but as she looked up into Vika’s face, the urge to kneel, to bow her head and give every shred of her soul to the woman surged so strongly in her chest she almost wept. Swallowing thickly, she managed, “Dame Vika. Of Sharkshoal Point.”

Something cleared in the woman’s face and she smiled so delightedly that Vika felt lightheaded. “You’re the knight my brother found!” she beamed.

Unable to do aught else, Vika bowed her head. “I am, Lady. If you’ll have me.”

“That remains to be seen,” she grinned, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “I hear you beat my brother in a race today,” she added and turned towards the great hall behind her. “Perhaps you’d care to spar with him tomorrow?”

“Will you be there to judge us?” Vika asked before she could stop herself.

“I suppose I should be, shouldn’t I?” Elayne said, pausing and looking back over her bare shoulder. “If you’re to be my knight,” she added, and as her dark eyes raked the length of Vika’s body from boot to crown of head, Vika shivered.

“I’ll be your knight, Lady,” she promised.

Elayne smiled brilliantly, and Vika bit her lip.

___

I hope you enjoyed it. If you did, please consider reblogging to show your support as well as leaving a like and/or a comment.

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#female knight x lady #sapphic fiction #wlw #medieval wlw #medieval fantasy #lesbian knight #non monster story #non monster post #WIP

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ask-felix-aberg · 4 months ago

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“Felix? Mr. Felix Åberg?”

A young woman calls gently, approaching from across Ravenclaw Tower’s common room. She pauses just before reaching Felix on one of the many sofas strewn about, dipping into an earnest curtsy. Her long chestnut curls spill over a shoulder with the motion, momentarily obscuring freckles and a three-pronged scar. Once the formality is settled, she sits with her ankles crossed on the cushion next to him, clearly reining in her enthusiasm. Hands folded in her lap, tempest grey eyes crinkling at the corners, posture straight as an arrow- textbook definition of a proper young lady.

“Oh, Felix! I had hoped to run into you- I’m Euphemia, Euphemia Melisandre Spindle. The girl who sent you that owl about your Animagus?”

She blinked in realization, nose crinkling like a particularly disdainful bunny rabbit.

“Oh- goodness, or might it be uncouth to mention such things aloud…hm. Well, I assure you I shan’t tell a soul of your…- erm. Goat tendencies.”

He is alternatively…a what?

Shh.

“Anyways, I’ve always seen you in passing and I said to myself, I said Euphemia, you cannot possibly leave this poor chap with a singular owl in jest only to vanish for lack of gumption. I was sure I’d find a moment of your time here eventually, all of our flock returns to the nest, don’t they just? Or, rather, we Ravenclaws do that is. Can’t be certain of the other Houses. Oh, I do humbly apologize if my initial correspondence was offensive in any way, sincerely I’d only meant for it to be-“

Euphemia.

“Hm?” She came to a halt on all fronts, including mid-animated gesture. A flicker of affectionate amusement rippled from the thoughts not her own.

You’re blithering again, dear.

…Oh. Right, yes. Shit. Um-

Euphemia cleared her throat, then, tucking a strand of dark waves behind her ear before regarding Felix again with a sheepish pink tint to her cheeks.

“Aheh. That is to say in less convoluted measures, erm…a pleasure to meet you. I’m Euphie.”

Outstanding performance, truly magnificent. He’s sure to be wooed.

Eleazar, I swear to God.

Felix looked up from his book at the mention of his name, blinking as his thoughts shifted from magical theory to the present, surprised to see a young lady approaching from across the Ravenclaw common room. The curtsy caught him off guard, making him straighten instinctively as she dipped into an earnest bow before sitting beside him on the sofa.

As she introduced herself, her words tumbling out in a rush, Felix listened with quiet amusement. Euphemia Spindle. The name vaguely rang a bell, and then it clicked - the owl. His lips twitched in the beginnings of a smile. Gently, he closed his book and slipped it into his bag, giving her his full attention.

"The pleasure's mine, Euphie. And no offence taken," Felix said warmly, his tone gentle. "I found your owl rather refreshing, actually." He tilted his head slightly, eyes sparkling with humour. "Though I have to admit, my... goatish qualities aren't often a subject of conversation in the common room." He grinned, hoping to ease her nerves.

"It's nice to meet you in person. So," he added, a playful glint in his eye, "what can I do for you today? More questions for science?" His light, teasing tone was meant to coax a smile back to her face.

#Hogwarts Legacy #Euphie & Zar #ask-Felix #HL | RP #|Bleats and Curtsy|

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dluebirb · 6 months ago

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Alright, so I finally jumped on the bandwagon (for better or for worse) and redesigned the main cast of Hazbin Hotel!

Disclaimer: I am not saying that my designs are better than the ones in the show, I am just saying that this is what I would have done if I were to design the characters, plus addressing some common criticism of Vivziepop's character designs. I enjoy the show, and with that comes some artistic liberties. Proceed.

So I'm going to show each character individually, plus a brief explanation (EDIT: They were not as brief as I thought... I love these characters, so sue me!) of what I changed and why, and then a lineup at the end!! Stick with me please, I put a lot of work into these!

@theosb0rnway they are real and in decent quality this time!! Wow!!

First up, Charlie! I had no idea she was meant to be based off of a porcelain doll. I thought she was a weird hell-vampire thing ngl. Fangs, pastey skin, you get it. The only thing the doll thing had going for it was the cheek marks, and I though that was a design choice for blush, like Mabel in Gravity Falls!

Porcelain dolls are really just those gen alpha tiktok influencer-level skin care routines plus dresses from two centuries ago, so I decided to go with a more puppet-leaning/mouthpiece design, plus some more goat-ish attributes, like her lil hoovsies!

Her color pallatte is brighter than the other designs because I wanted to show how she (while still utilizing the pinks and reds of hell) is the most pure-hearted of the bunch, as she's the only one who really doesn't belong in hell.

If this does well (or I want to) I might do her demon form!

VAGGIE! My girl. I love her.

So my main problem with Vaggie's current design: HER HAIR. I'm sorry, but how are the physics of that supposed to work?? Please? /gen

She also says in the show that she's "not used to fighting with long hair, and the ponytail in episode 8 doesn't really serve that purpose? At least from the viewers POV, hence the bun.

I know she's not technically a moth demon, since she's an ex-exorcist, but I wanted to lean into the imagery. She and Charlie look a little too close to human in comparison to almost anyone else, so I wanted to give her some moth-isms. And I find it more believable that she could fight like this! Ik Alastor's the hotel's protector and all, but old habits die hard n such.

Onto Angel Dust! Okay, I gotta say, I should lower his colors general brightness-

But other than that, I think I did pretty good with him!

I am probably in the minority who thought the eyes thing in episode four was pretty cool, but I wanted to make him more visibly spider-like, and eyes seemed like a good place to start.

I will admit to taking inspiration from the iron spider suit in Avengers: Infinity War for his extra arms. I was a Marvel kid, the legends are true.

Also, PINCERS! I think that's what those are called- They're only sorta there because any other way I tried ended with messing up his general face, but the thought's there!

I did forget his spider ass, but it's there in spirit, trust.

BIG OL' SHOUT OUT TO OZ FOR HELPING ME WITH THE DEER MAN'S FACE. He was giving me a TIME-

His fuck-ass bob is NO MORE. I rest my case. Also the monocle was annoying me, so he gets old lady glasses. I don't know why his shoes look like deer hooves. he's a little fucked up anatomy-wise.

I don't have much to say about him, but I loved drawing his hair. He gets to keep some of his red, because he WOULD. I also have a design of Alastor with a coat/jacket thing that's more time-period accurate, but I really liked this design, so it's what you're getting unless someone asks for it.

I also don't have a lot to say about Husk- I took away a lot more than I added if we're being real.

Hat? GONE

Weird wing design that makes my brain hurt? GONE

Eyebrows? YOU BETTER BELIEVE THEY'RE GONE

(I had a grudge against his eyebrows, leave me be-)

He's also short and fat now, so... YEAH (for a while I thought he was real short, but that was only because I kept seeing screen caps of him next to Angel, and the guy's a beanpole-)

His wings resemble the succubi in Helluva more so now, because Hazbin has a weird relationship with wings, so I wanted to make the distinction clearer than it is in canon.

His eyes glow now because have you SEEN a cat in pitch black, dead of night? Scary little assholes. (/aff, I love my cats.) He's dead and in hell, so they glow perpetually.

As with Charlie, I had no idea Niffty was supposed to be a bug. This seems to be a recurring issue.

I shifted her hair and outfit to be a lil more 1950s-accurate, but it was pretty good before, all things considered. I actually like Niffty's Canon design a lot.

In terms of making the bug-ness more pronounces, I gave her antennae (they can glow because YES) and wings. I imagine the wings are kind of like grasshopper wings, so they make a lil weird noise. I also gave her four legs, because if there's one thing I know about bugs, they have an abnormal amount of appendages.

The quality got CRUNCHED so click on the lineup, PLEASE-

And yeah, there are the sillies! I tried to differentiate them from the RED, but I think I overdid it-

Eh, I like them!

Send an ask or comment if you want me to do any more characters, or send me a screenshot from Hazbin and I'll redraw it with these guys! It'll also give me the chance to work on backgrounds, which I need!

I really hope you guys like these!

#moth with a megaphone #friendos #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin hotel vaggie #hazbin hotel angel dust #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin hotel niffty #hazbin hotel redesign #moth's art #hazbin hotel fanart

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gender-mailman · 1 month ago

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Pink lady goat!

Pink Lady Cocktail [link] folks who feel connected to goats in some way; such as being otherkin / therian, an alter, or if you just really like goats

Coined by me. Requested by no one

#xenogender #mogai coining #mogai gender #mogai flag #xenogender coining #xenogender flag #gender coining #pro mogai #mogai safe #pro liom #liom safe #goat flag #pink lady presentantion #pink lady cocktail presentantion #white presentantion #pink presentantion #pink lady goat

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bearlytolerant · 10 months ago

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Fandom: Dragon’s Dogma 2

Pairing: Arisen/Phaesus

Chapter Rating: Mature

AO3

Figures spin in an array of silks. Donning masks feathered or scaled or embellished in some format or another. Fancy birds and beasts alike. And her eyes watch from the shadowed corner of the room.

Blonde hair. Braided bun. Blue plumed mask.

Blonde. Braided. Blue.

The description plays on repeat for her target of a delivered letter. A noblewoman—Lady Henrietta—who can be swayed to the side of the arisen. To her side. Not that she cares for her position or any side swaying (unless it’s in reference to a pretty woman) but she cares for Ser Brant and Regentkin Sven and they are the ones pulling all the strings. Someone always is. She’d made an attempt at convincing Brant to let a pawn go in her stead but it failed. Miserably. So she resigns herself to playing puppet. At least she can don a pretty dress, drink and dance. Besides, their hard work on her behalf should be rewarded, no? And it’s not like it’s a difficult assignment. She might even be best suited for it, her whole life spent knowing the subtle details of each of her goats to call them by name. These nobles are just goats.

More masqueraders filter through the doorway and something new plays on the violin, soft and sensual. Half the candles are blown out, casting a warm, moody glow on cheeks unshadowed. Roses in a vast array of pinks and reds fill vases around the room, and the sweet fragrance cannot drown out the scent of sweat and sex that permeates the air.

Gwyn manages to spot a woman matching the description she’s searching for. But the blue of her dress is caught up in a twirl on the dance floor, the same blue plumes of her mask taking flight before she can even peel herself off the pillar. With slumped shoulders, she sighs and mindlessly adjusts her own scaled black mask. Patience is almost too steep a price for paragonal virtue.

A shiver runs up her spine and she averts her gaze from the dancers to scan the dim-lit recesses between the marbled columns nearby. Her eyes land on a tall figure, dressed in black with mask to match, hands clasped behind his back. The gold accents on both mask and robe gleam when the flickering flame catches the metallic just so. His attire is different. Not Vermundian in style but more Battahli, and she wonders what a noble from the neighboring country is doing here. Surely events such as these exist in his own courts and ballrooms. Does he just want to bask in the revelries of Vermundian customs or is he on a mission, much the same as she? A half smirk tugs at those lips, eyes never leaving her and his bearded jawline is accentuated by the candle’s half-light. Like a moth to his flame, she floats over to him.

He’s not quite as tall as her up close. And not everything is black. The habit beneath the robes is a deep shade of purple and a thick, wine red cord is tied about his waist. All of it is luxurious garb, the kind only befitting nobles and she wonders what title he carries back home.

His eyes remain fixated on her. More often her chest than any other feature. She can’t say she wouldn’t do the same if she were him. But isn’t that what these little masquerades are about? They say it’s to celebrate The (false) Sovran but everyone knows what those celebrations entail. Unadulterated lust and stolen moments of forbidden fornication disguised as dancing. She smooths her hands down her corset, his eyes never straying from her body. At least he carries no false pretenses about his desires. She determines she likes him already and closes the small gap between them.

A tilt of his head and his eyes flick back up to hers with a pleased hum. “Why, you’re—”

His voice is like a hypnotic rumble carried on smoke laden clouds. Or velvet sheets caressing the skin just before that first light of dawn peeks through the curtains. A voice she associates with satiated desire coupled with possession and she wants to be his tonight. She just knows with that deep decadent tone and alluring cadence that he’s the type to talk you through an orgasm and if not, she’ll take enjoyment from hearing that voice of his relinquish a moan while threading her fingers through his raven colored locks. Raising a brow in piqued interest, she hopes he continues speaking.

“No, pay me no mind.”

“A senseless request when you have caught my attention and are all that consumes my mind now.”

A small smirk but her bold attempt at flirting is not enough to make him blush. He unfolds his arms from behind his back, dispersing the tension of his haughty posture with a roll of his wrist. “We who are gathered here are naught but nameless nobles. Twould be uncouth to inquire after another’s identity.”

She wants to laugh. Ask how many times he’s rehearsed such an alliterative line or if he’s the type to succumb to such formalities. But the way he turns each word into goosebumps on her arms has her trading her almost-laugh in for fire running through her veins. She no longer even cares about his name. Would it be uncouth if she skipped banter altogether and went straight to sex in the corridor? Does she care if it was? She surmises she aught to at least dance with him first.

“All such speak of identity aside, might I ask you to dance?”

“I would be a fool to deny you.”

“You would indeed, my lord.” He offers a small bow before taking the lead.

Fingers cool to the touch, hers interlock with his until they find a place amongst the other masked dancers. Somehow her memory serves her for once when she recalls the required four-steps and turn for this particular dance but her mind wanders. One-two steps and he’s too far away. The third and the fourth, brings him back and she wants him closer. Wants him to stay. Desires his fingers skimming along her skin, playing her like the violin, her sighs harmonizing with his.

“You seem distracted,” he says when they rejoin, fingers interlocking with hers, raising their arms into the air as they slowly circle one another. His lips, thin and yet so alluring, are so close. Too close. Not close enough.

“Are you not?”

Though taciturn, the desire that burns behind his own dark eyes, reveals a satisfactory answer.

A catch of breath and his eyes don’t leave her as she steps back, spins and then they trade partners. Another four-steps that she must focus on or else be tripped up, and she loses sight of him with the next twirl. The music comes to an end. The crowd claps, pressed in tight together. She stretches on tip-toes and searches above the crowd. Spies his robe slipping smoothly away toward the fringes and she follows, almost forgetting the whole reason she’s at this masquerade.

A collision. A gasp. And wine is spilled down the front of her bodice but she spots that braided, blonde and blue and remembers the letter. Squeezing past the clumsy, wine-spilling noble, she reroutes herself, trailing after the blue dress.

A hand gently wraps around her wrist from the shadows and she’s pulled away from her pursuit.

“There you are.”

“My lord, I hardly think I was lost. You are the one who left and are in need of searching out.”

“Am I?”

She grants him an easy smile, taking in his form. “Indeed. Though, you are found now.”

A hum of acknowledgment and he folds his arms across his chest.

“I regret that I must leave you for a moment but I have need to speak with a friend. But after, if it would please you, I would relish in the opportunity to share another dance.”

“I was thinking we could share in a moment more—private.”

“I believe there is a storage—”

He interrupts, lips almost against her ear as he says, “let us reconvene when the clock strikes the next hour.”

She nods. Searches out Lady Henrietta. It’s all hush hush and a secret exchange gone well before Gwyn is almost sprinting around the outer hallway, blotting away the wet spot of spilled wine on her black dress with a kerchief she stole from a man in a Beastren mask.

She will definitely be early.

Heart racing as the clock tolls the new hour, Gwyn readjusts her position on a forgotten desk littered with old, dusty books buried in the ballroom's storage closet behind a room divider. Remembering to breathe, she quells her nervous excitement. But it all shatters when the door creaks open and the gentle hum of a spell is cast. She marks down another certainty. But is he a mage or sorcerer? Or some combination of the two? She resigns herself to thinking it doesn’t matter.

“I presume you found your way easily enough?” She hopes it’s her masked tryst and not a guard she’s speaking to.

“Indeed,” he answers and her momentary worry dissipates.

“You did lock the door, yes?” Though, she can make the assumption easily enough if he felt the need to use magic.

Rounding the room divider, she takes in his handsome form and it’s a shame she can’t peel off that mask and those robes to reveal all of what’s underneath. To see what face that growl of a voice comes from. But his mouth will have to do as he inches closer and she tugs the wine colored cord around his waist. He nearly loses balance, but braces himself, palms on either side of her. Cupping his chin in her hand, she captures his dark brown gaze and slowly inches toward him, breath on his lips.

“Yes. And we shall remain uninterrupted for a few hours,” he says.

“Hours?”

He closes the gap between them, lips pressing against hers in a surprisingly gentle way and her fingers crawl along his jawline and slip to the back of his neck where she twirls a dark lock around her finger. Heart thudding wildly, she releases all of her pent up tension with a tug of his hair. A soft, pleasant gasp and she smiles against him. Deepens the kiss with a slant of her lips and flick of her tongue, she yanks him even closer. But he breaks away with a coy smile.

“Time is needed for a fruitful and thorough experience.”

“Thorough hmm?”

“Might I inquire of you?

“Go on.”

“How well,” he reaches down, hooking his fingers under the hem of her dress, thumbs sliding across her thighs, as he slowly shuffles the fabric upward, bunching it around her hips, “do you follow instruction?”

She expects a grin but only seriousness lingers in his gaze. “I suppose it depends upon who is instructing and if they are worthy of my obedience or not.”

“Hmm,” he says thoughtfully, inching to his knees. A press of his lips against her inner thigh and his eyes flick back up to hers. “I shall make myself worthy then.”

#bear writes #dd2 fanfic #dragon’s dogma 2 fanfic #dd2 #dragon’s dogma 2 #phaesus x arisen #ascension #chapter 1 #oc: gwyn #eyyy it’s out 😅

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berrypass-de-murdler · 4 months ago

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2 - 33 Gambling and Murder Are Both Illegal

AGH MY BOOK WON'T COME TIL TOMORROW WHY

Obviously I haven't been posting them because that's kind of a waste of time, but I've digitized quite a few of the murdlers' official artworks!

They're not beautiful, but they are convenient when I need basic transparent pictures of them.

I mean.... yes!!!!!!!

DON'T READ THE EPISODES WITHOUT READING THE BOOKS!!

Logico looks through his mail. He finds a scrap of paper with an invitation to an underground gambling ring written in blood! He and Tino laugh their asses off for a while.

IRRATINO: So are we gonna go? LOGICO: I mean, I was cordially invited. IRRATINO: And I’ve devised a system for winning at poker! LOGICO: Yes, esoteric gambling. IRRATINO: I swear it works!!

They enter through a manhole in the alley. The tables are set up in the sewers! Silverton the Legend and Boss Charcoal were also invited. (They left Drakonia as soon as the Lady Violet news got out.) And, of course, the twins.

BLUES: [with a ridiculous fake mustache] Welcome, welcome. It’s time for gambling time. Come get your cards and lose money. (Let’s get a beer.) Yeahh.

Irratino gleefully plays some rounds with the gang, and loses so much money. But he seems to be having fun, so it’s fine.

LOGICO: Except that’s MY money too…

He’s more interested in the fact that there’s a human pinned to the wall (good god!!). That’d scar any sane person for life!

LOGICO: Um, hello! IRRATINO: Huh? [goat scream]

They have to solve this extremely gruesome murder! Who would have thought there’d be shifty figures in a sewer gambling operation?

IRRATINO: All right, Logico. First things first, you need to FULLY learn numerological code. LOGICO: NO I DON’T! IRRATINO: Really? Then how else are you going to decode this clue?

It’s made out of numbers. Clearly he wrote it, and is just trying to taunt Logico.

LOGICO: JUST TELL ME THE CLUE YOU IDIOT IRRATINO: This is a learning opportunity!

Logico has no choice but to sit down and let Irratino teach him the way, when there are far more important things he could be doing. In the example, Tino uses a short name for reference: ‘Red’. Logico grows deeply uncomfortable once again. He wants to forget that awful trip ever happened!

LOGICO: I get it now. Please stop.

Irratino is distressed by the sudden change in mood, and decides to take statements for him. Charcoal is walking very funny, for one.

IRRATINO: Say, um… what’s… what’s up? CHARCOAL: N-Nothing!

Tino notices that it’s his left arm that’s hindering him, and that he’s wearing a jacket when he usually doesn’t. He brings out a pipe from under his sleeve!

IRRATINO: Aha!

Charcoal falls over.

CHARCOAL: NOOO!! I HAD TO HAVE THAT ‘CUZ I BROKE MY ARM!!! IRRATINO: OH MY GOD! OH NO, I’M SO SORRY

Charcoal sobs in pain. Irratino tries to put it back but makes it worse.

SILVERTON: Real charming guy you bagged there, Logico.

Logico tries to whack him, but there’s not much use against the glob of slime. He turns to the Blues instead.

BLUES: We, I mean I, know this: a shoe knife was at the cashier! LOGICO: A… ‘shoe knife’? BLUES: Yuh-huh. LOGICO: And what, may I ask, is a shoe knife. BLUES: Wha- duh!! It’s a shoe knife! You’re not a real adult so you don’t understand, short man! LOGICO: I am not short! I am just very compact.

Logico just has to wait out the answer for this one - as the Blues struggle to stand straight, a knife pops out of one of their giant boots!

BLUES: (I told you the boots were a terrible idea!!) LOGICO: I think you’re too young to gamble. BLUES: NO I’M NOT! I’m a grown man!

Logico opens their coat.

BLUES: I’m STILL a grown man! This is just my mistress! (Your WHAT?!) Shut up and carry me! [Pink throws her to the ground] [Blue screams] I want my mom! (She’s not coming! Dad MURDERED her!)

Logico and Irratino wince at the turn this is taking.

LOGICO: Why not we take you home.

Logico carries one kid piggyback and Irratino holds the other as they head back into town where they belong.

The end!

This gets really really bad when you remember that their dad is Mayor Honey

The power of Goat Lord compels you!

See you next time murdlers!

#murdle #cartoonmurdleverse

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juicesnatcher · 11 months ago

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I'm sorry that I haven't been drawing Kirby stuff recently everyone. I will do better in the future to appease you people instead of continuing to just make art for myself first and foremost, because "content creation" for people to eat up and move on from immediately is clearly more important and wavering from that in any way is wrong. You guys are here for small pink ball and friends (mostly spider), and not goat-rabbit-cat lady and I should have realized that I'm not allowed to have other interests or else you will all leave. MY BAD everyone, SORRY.

Sorry for this, I just am a little bit saddened that almost nobody is liking or sharing my Pseudoregalia art compared to my standalone Kirby stuff, because it's all STILL ART, regardless of its subject I put time and love into all of what I make. I love this game to bits now and I wish that more than one or two of my mutuals would give the posts a pity note (I appreciate those who still do actually like all of my posts though no matter the topic, you guys are the best 🫶)

#juice rambles

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almostaknight · 8 months ago

Note

The wench looked as ugly and awkward as ever, he decided when Tyrell left them.

- Jamie IX ASOS

I haven't seen anyone talk about this line! It's the "he decided" part that caught my eye. It suggests that his perception of her has subconsciously changed in some way that had made him reevaluate her. If he still thought of her as he did at the start, he'd have just said "she was as ugly and awkward as ever" and left it there. But no, he decided it, which means he was questioning it in the first place. There's a part of him that both sees her looks differently and sees past her looks and admires/is attracted to both. As he considers this seeming difference in her (which is actually a difference in HIM), he denies his budding feelings because she's conventionally unattractive so he *decides* she's the same as she ever was. But he doesn't *feel* that way.

Am I delusional 😭 maybe. But they make me so unwell.

Dear anon, you‘re not delusional at all and I share your unwellness when it comes to these two fictional characters!

May I direct you to this excellent meta by @pretty-thief that compliments your observations re: Jaime and his perception of Brienne’s attractiveness in speech and inner monologue:

Imo, “wench” is a barrier in Jaime’s mind and after the bathtime confession and the bear pit, he’s reframing the way he thinks about Brienne without realizing that he’s doing it. “Wench” is used to other her, to needle her. By the end of ASOS it softens. Initially, he uses it like a line in the sand or a weapon to to use against her while he can’t use his actual weapon. By the end of ASOS, it’s more of a firm hand on the shoulder. It’s Jaime losing his resolve to keep her on the “other” side of his line in the sand.

I think this applies pretty neatly to your thoughts. Jaime just had a devastating conversation with Cersei, he‘s sure he lost “a sister and a lover”, and he’s in emotional turmoil. What does Jaime do in times of stress and uncertainty? He throws up shields in his mind which make him an extremely unreliable narrator. The whole text passage is actually a minefield of contradicting behavior:

The wench looked as ugly and awkward as ever, he decided when Tyrell left them. Someone had dressed her in woman’s clothes again, but this dress fit much better than that hideous pink rag the goat had made her wear. “Blue is a good color on you, my lady,” Jaime observed. “It goes well with your eyes.” She does have astonishing eyes."

He decides she is still ugly and awkward as an emotional barrier because he‘s not ready to deal with the fact that 1. he was the one who had the dress made and fitted for her 2. in the color that matches her eyes which he finds astonishing (= beautiful in Jaime-language which skirts the edges of outright admitting attraction just so).

Jaime will bend himself into a bretzel before having one (1) coherent, straightforward thought, that’s why he’s so much fun to read about. Also personally I find it speaks to his character that he‘s slow to admit genuine attraction to another person while he‘s still in the break-up state of mind with his first lover.

#thank you sm for the ask anon! this really made me think and ponder #i hope this wasn’t just mindless rambling bc you really said it all anon #answered asks

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xgummibearx · 1 year ago

Text

Hit by a Quirk

All Might x F reader.

author’s note: I AM FINALLY GONNA TRY TO FINISH THIS SERIES, I have been procrastinating on this one cause I admit I do not like Endeavor and I felt like I had to write one for him but...I kinda don’t want to. SO, instead I am gonna write another All Might X reader and I’ll write the Endeavor one if people request it.

In case you were unfamiliar with this series, this little blurb explains the general concept. I have written stories in the series so far for: Fatgum, Aizawa, Present Mic, Hawkes, and Nighteye.

https://at.tumblr.com/xgummibearx/hit-with-a-quirk-pro-heroes-x-teacher-reader/pbaoi17qx9e5

OKAY, here ya go:

Summary: All Might has been reverted to his early childhood years, and...there are many that would love to get their hands on a helpless, defenseless All Might. You can’t let that happen.

Note: The reader for this is I suppose, kinda aged up? I’m picturing they grew up with All Might.

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

Cameras were flashing in the distance as Kamui ran to the scene, a villain in a large trenchoat was being lead quivering and shaking under Midnight’s watchful eye. Pink smoke was slowly ebbing away as the villiain was lead in daze to a well armoured vehicle. “The media! They’re coming, someone uploaded a video of civillians coming across Hawkes and Endeavor after their attack...this place is going to be blown up with paparazzi any minute...” He looked around frantically, another sleek black vehicle pulling up. “Where’s All Might?!” Midnight was opening the door of the black car to reveal Nezu, looking around to access the damage. He had lost two, and according to Midnight’s report now three crucial staff members -not to mention one if his own students-to this attack.

Special ops agents fanned out as another spoke with the police, asking the villian questions about his encounter with the retired Number One hero. Midnight approached Nezu as he peered around trash cans and casually walked around. “Sir, what have you heard about the other heroes? Is there any information?” She asked gently as Nezu paused at a wall that was...quite busted, and sure enough there was Toshinori. In a dark yellow suit that was now much, much too big. He was bruised, and shaking, his eyes wide with fear and confusion. Midnight stepped forward immediately but Nezu gently offered his hand.

“I can take things from here, the other heroes are fine...In fact, I have made arrangements for most of them, but little Taishiro is currently passed out in the back seat of the staff car, would you mind taking him to our quirk specialist? I already texted you her address...I’ll need to meet you back at the school right away.” Midnight nodded, looking up at All Might one more time with worry. "That stubborn goat...he's supposed to be retired." Se thought, walking back to the staff car.

Nezu approached Toshinori, smiling gently. “Hello Yagi..."

-----

He was sitting in what appeared to be a a waiting room, with other children passed out all around him. Yagi was unfamiliar with any of them, or even where he was. He was the eldest of the other four in the room...well, three now as he watched a nice looking lady lead the boy that had been passed out on the floor out of the building. He had heard the boy's name, "shouta". There was something so familiar about that name.

Yagi was too tired to think about it, his eyes closing from exhaustion.

There was a gentle tap on his shoulder, and his eyes met a gentle face. She was wearing a hero costume, and her hair was a mess. Most of the heroes attacked that night were being monitored by early quirk development specialists, essentially workers who had studied and trained to handle working with children with still developing quirks. With the rise of quirks that were becoming more powerful with each generation, it was becoming a popular profession and held in the same regard as child workers, Educational Assistants, and teachers. Most public schools had at least two or three on hand, but this...this was a special case.

"He is at his most vulnerable...he's only just retired, we don't think the media discovered that he was part of the attack but we cannot take any chances!" Nezu had insisted. "If the wrong people find out that All Might has been reduced to this there is no telling what could happen."

Yagi turned his tired gaze up to (x), he yawned. "Mrs. (L/N)?" He asked, "Why are you dressed like that...aren't you a bank teller?" Yagi mumbled. (x) couldn't help but chuckle, she supposed that she did resemble her mother a bit.

"It seems his memory is still pretty good..." She thought. "Well Yagi, I had a costume party to attend to with work, but I was heading home...did you want to come with me?" Yagi nodded, taking her hand. (x) didn't know how to feel, did this even count as lying? If she tried to explain everything that would probably just confuse him, and scare him even more. She looked in the rearview mirror, as Yagi slept in the backseat to her car. It really had been almost a lifetime ago since she had last seen him like this, his face unburdened and free. They would chase frogs along the rivers, and come home with handfuls of snails. As she tucked him into bed, and closed the door one thought was stuck on repeat. "I won't let anyone hurt you Yagi..." She clenched her fist. "I promise..."

"Excuse me, Mrs. (L/N)... where is (x)?" The morning had come warm, bright, and sunny. She had honestly forgotten how soft spoken and polite he had been as a child. Bright blue eyes hidden behind that mess of long blond hair.

"(x) is back home, I'm house sitting for my sister at the moment." She gently explained, seeing Yagi nod, and not even question her words...the conflicted guilt continued. She was unsure how long she could keep this up.

Keeping him entertained was thankfully easy, as a child his favorite place had always been the library, sitting in squashy bean bag chairs to read his favorite picture books. "And when the prince found the Sleeping beauty in her tower...he found the sight of her, alone in her chambers so sad and beautiful that he thought to depart from her with a kiss." (x) blew a raspberry on Yagi's cheek. His giggles were so loud, they found themselves outside the library with the book in hand and stern librarian closing the door behind. (x) sighed. "Nothing for it I suppose...it was getting close to closing time anyway..." Yagi shrugged.

"Yeah...but could we read the story before bed?" He asked. (X) nodded with a gentle smile. Bedtime...how long would this last anyway? She held his hand tight, her mind wandering as they walked home. As glad as she was to see her friend so bright, she missed him...the him she had grown old with, their memories and history...what if he didn't change back?

"Excuse me miss?" She turned, her hand still gripping onto Yagi's tightly. A tall man stood, with piercing eyes that seemed to see right through her. "I could use some help, I seem to be a bit lost..." He smiled, approaching slowly. "I came in from Saitama; my brother lives here in Musutafu." (x) stared him down. She didn't trust him. "Well, there is the transit train station about two blocks from here that way." She gestured down the street. "You should be able to find a map, and if you have a working cell phone you could call your brother and have him send you the address."

"I'll be sure to keep that in mind..." An arm suddenly hit her square in the back, catching her by surprise. She let go of Yagi's ahand and her blood ran cold.

"MISS (L/N)!" Her head whipped around as the man asking for directions grabbed her by the arm. She could see another individual, seemingly they had snuck in from behind to hit her and they had grabbed him.

"TOSHINORI!" She screamed, her other arm restrained as the kidnapper made for a waiting car.

"So, the rumours were right, he really was turned into a helpless little brat just like the others...I know a lot of people who would pay big bucks to bring the retired golden boy to safety, thanks for delivering the package hag." (X) snarled, her eyes flashing with rage as the car sped off.

"You haven't done your homework... DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM YOU SCUM!?" With a roar she broke from the assailant's hold. All he saw were stars and a flash of golden light as her fist collided with his face. She didn't even bother to take the time to see his body fall to the ground before she was off like a shot. She had a simple power up type quirk, nothing to write home about but she was not one to be reckoned with. "White...the car was white, blocked out windows..." They would be speeding. Her heart was racing as she screamed into her communicator, a direct line to the Fat Office hero agency. " This is (H/N) I was ambushed! Golden Eagle was taken! I repeat, Golden Eagle has been taken, I am in pursuit!" Her eyes caught a vehicle, a white car diving into a back street. "I HAVE VISUAL! Locking in my coordinates, send reinforcements as soon as you can!"

In the car, Yagi was shaking. His attacker was still holding him with an iron grip. "Dammit...that old hag is still after us!" Yagi craned his neck, his eyes wide as he looked out the back window. There she was, surrounded in gold and scarlet flames like a comet. "I guess the boss couldn't take her...dammit I thought they hired some daycare bitch like they did for the others! Not a pro!" Yagi's eyes flashed with anger at the insult.

"How dare they! (X) is an amazing hero, she's..." He froze, looking back. "(X)...that's (X)! Wait...why am I..." He looked down at his hands that suddenly felt too small. Yagi looked up as one of the other men in the car grabbed a huge looking gun.

"Doesn't matter, I'll take care of this!" Yagi watched in horror, covering his ears as it went off. His screams were drowned as the back window was broken, bullets raining down on (x).

"NO! (X) LOOK OUT!" She was too late, two of the bullet piercing her shoulders and making her fall to the ground, sliding painfully across the pavement. Yagi was shaking, tears rolling down his eyes. "YOU MONSTERS!" He screamed, he was met with laughter as one of them picked him up by the hair.

"Pipe down you brat!" They screamed into his face, throwing him to the floor of the car. He sobbed, his head aching where they had pulled as he felt the rumble of the car underneath. There had to be something he could do, there had to be. He was surrounded by smoke.

"Please...one last bit of strength..." was his last thought before the attacker's found themselves met with blue eyes that glowed like headlights, his memories flooding back as he towered over them. "One hit...I have one hit, make it count!" All Might, fully grown and already steaming as he strained to get in that one hit leaped to the front seat, crushing the steering wheel in one punch before falling to his knees.

(x) looked up, shaking as she watched in horror. The car swerved violently to the left, turning sideways. "YAGI! NO, YAGI!" She screamed, limping as she ran towards the vehicle, and overhead searchlights splashed over the scene like beacons as police sirens closed in. She froze, a figure climbing out of the window on the other side. He was frail looking, and thin with familiar golden hair. "Yagi...that's him!" Relief washed over as she tried to pick up the pace. With a wince she tripped, falling over onto the pavement once more.

"(x)! Hold on, don't strain yourself!" He coughed, turning his face as spat blood to the ground. "Could the say the same for myself I guess..." He cursed, kneeling beside her as the police inspected the vehicle, pulling out three unconscious but still very much alive men. (X) Cradled her arm, the blood from the two bullet wounds staining her clothes. "Shit...can we get some paramedics over here!?" Toshinori shouted, helping her sit up.

"You're here..." She took his hand, leaning against him as he held the back of her head with a small chuckle and a firm squeeze of her hand.

"Yeah...I'm here."

Author's Note:

OKAY that finally concludes the hit by a quirk series, with this out of the way I am looking forward to focusing on my other fic ideas! However, I am always open to ideas and suggestions! I also will be doing an announcement on some possible changes to the blog to expand our options outside of just My Hero.

#all might #allmight x reader #bnha #mha #female reader #bnha fanfiction #anime

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