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coeurify · 5 months

Note

repost the period vampire ellie fic!

middle of the night,, vamp!ellie

a/n: this is a repost from early this year so excuse any change in writing style!

warnings: vampire!ellie. period sex. oral!r receiving fingering!r receiving. sort of a dreamy, less modern vibe. if u aren’t into it.. just don’t read it.

˚✦　.　　. 　 ˚　.　 . ✦　˚　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

Some times--Most times, you only saw her at night. When darkness enveloped the small town you called home, when the stars rocked the sleepy eyed humans to sleep and the moon hummed the lullaby that quieted the crickets outside, she came.

Only then did you ever hear the distinct creaking of the splitting wood on your window panes being pressed up. Only then did the white of your sheer curtains move with more than the wind, the grip of the air nothing compared to the long hand that often wrapped around the fabric and pushed it open. When the moon was the only light filtering into your room, you saw the green of her eyes.

Tonight was no different, despite one little issue. Often, the woman who visited you under the cover of midnight would arrive to your eyes closed in sleep. She would press a hand to your warm cheek before waking you, greeted by your sleepy excitement each time.

This time, you had not been able to sleep. A heat had taken over your body, tight in your stomach with a pain you would compare to that of claws gnawing at your insides. Sweat beaded between your brows with every swift turn under your uncomfortable sheets, lip tugged between your frustrated teeth to stop any whines of discomfort. That had been what your favorite visitor heard as her shaking palms found the wood of your window. Your pained grunts floated through her buzzing ears as she quietly made her way into your room, auburn hair messy behind her ears as her figure became visible, head tilted as she looked across the room to your heated body.

“El,” you whined, wiping your forehead with a hand, not at all concerned about her chosen point of entry. “Go away.”

Ellie’s gaze softened, a scoff sounding from behind your squeezed shut eyes. “Go away?” she mused, her voice much closer now.

The split second your eyes had been closed, Ellie had somehow silently made it to your bedside. You don't question it, you never do.

When a girl like Ellie sports small fangs and a taste for blood, her speed is the last thing you think to question.

“I don't feel well, don’t want you here.” you add, mouth pulled into pout as you look up at the freckled face of Ellie.

“Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong, bunny? Instead of shooing me away,” Ellie requests, sitting on the edge of your bed. Her cold hand finds your sweaty arm, sighing. “You’re burning up.”

Your neck tickles with heat as Ellie questions your current state, and you fall wordless. Somehow, it was more embarrassing to admit to your vampire visitor that you were starting your period than to simply tell her to leave. Obviously however, Ellie was not taking the second option as a valid answer.

“I started my period, nothing is helpin’ the cramps,” you explain softly, pressing your hand into the sheets of your bed to try and sit, to maybe find some sort of relief to the growing tension in your stomach. But the other set of hands is faster.

“Lay down,” Ellie insists, glancing down at you. You can almost see the cogs of her brain turning behind the evergreen in her eyes, a sort of fogginess settling over the color.

“Let me help you,” she eventually says.

“What? I told you nothi-”

Ellie presses her lips together to hush you, one wandering hand finding the dip of your hip, blunt nail tracing the goosebump coated flesh there. Sometimes she liked being so cold, simply because she enjoyed seeing how you reacted to it. If she was damned for what she was, she may as well use some of it to her advantage.

“What are you doing?” You couldn't help the shiver that followed her movements.

Suddenly your mouth feels dry, tongue unable to wet the plump fat of your lip. The scratching in your throat finds no comfort when you swallow, only further irritating your vocal chords. A choked noise finds the heavy bedroom air as fingers tug at your cotton shorts.

“Helping you,” Ellie repeats, her own mouth much more wet than yours. Even in the dim light of the moon you can see the glistening dew on her parted lips. Usually the look she currently wears is saved only for when her pearly teeth find the sensitive and already scarred skin of your neck. Not for.. this.

Your hands immediately slap to your heated cheeks. “Oh my god Ellie, no fucking way.”

The vampire, who had now moved below you on the bed, hums in disagreement to your little show of kicking feet, a hand too strong to be that of a human halting all movements.

“We always have fun when I come over,” The freckles of her face disappear as she glances down, fully pulling down your shorts.

“Not when I’m on my period,” you hiss quietly, the words feeling cracked and embarrassed as they leave your mouth. You could deny the growing arousal in your belly simply by how *mortified* you felt. Even with the churning feeling of deeply settled embarrassment, you make no further moves to stop Ellie. Not as the shorts fall to the floor with a dull thump.

“It’ll help,” Ellie soothes, the near frigid temperature of her hand calming the heat that rises on the skin of your legs. “Haven’t you heard things like this help with cramps?”

The words that are spoken almost teasingly fall upon deaf ears as her wet lips press right above your knee. “Please,” the auburn haired girl whispers, sounding a lot more breathy than before. “Please, let me taste you. Let me make you feel better. ”

Ellie had a tendency to become a little less cold, figuratively at least, when she found her body nestled between your own. The unwavering voice you had grown oh so accustomed to always slid into a more mushy sounding version whenever it got intimate. Today, it seemed even worse. The words dripped with the sweet sounds of neediness, a sound that tasted sweet on your tongue, which swiped nervously over your dry lips.

“El..” Another kiss pressed further up the flesh of your warm thigh broke any following denial. “Fuck..” your chin wobbles, almost too embarrassed to actually say your following words, “Yea. Please help.”

You were sure if you believed something was watching down on you from the sky, it was with horror. Some people may call what Ellie was doing sinful. The angels in the clouds would shrilly gasp as fingers wrapped around your panties and tugged them and everything else from your bottom half, tossing them into the growing pile of clothes. Her shirt came next, the simple white cloth acted as something to watch as it pulled off of her chest, likely to avoid any mess. Some may call the sight of her dipping down again, green eyes looking up at your quivering lip, sinful. Maybe it was, surely the mewl you made when her lips found the heated flesh of your inner thigh was. But if you had to describe it, that wasn't the word you would use. You may even swear it was heavenly.

“Relax,” Ellie drawled, spreading your thighs further apart, despite the slight tremble to them. “I’ve got you, don't worry,” her voice soothed you enough to tilt your head back against the pillow, squeezing your eyes closed. The embarrassment simmered low in your belly, even more so when you could feel the arousal that dripped from you, which your vampire visitor had no problem pointing out. “So wet for me,” she groaned, lips still refusing to find home anywhere other than your thighs. Teeth sharper than your own nipped at the skin there, bucking your hips up. “You want this, don’t you?”

It was an obvious request for another confirmation of what was to come, but your chest felt too tight to reply, no air finding your lungs the moment her breath hovered over your pulsing core. “Tell me you want it,” she requests again, voice dipping into a softer territory again, searching for your approval. Her resolve was cracking however, jaw clicking as she tried her best not to dive straight into where she craved to be.

“I do,” you whine, eyes still closed as you answered, words met with the quick and overwhelming feeling of her tongue pressing flat against your wet center. You couldn’t think too hard about the fact she was doing this right now, not when the sharp gasp had come from two mouths instead of one, a quick call of, “Fuck,” from only you this time followed. Ellie had no words, not as her tongue made another long stripe up your pussy, going much slower than you liked. It led one small roll of your hips down into her, a sign for what you searched for.

It resulted in a hand gripping your hip, pressing you further down into the mattress, ceasing any attempt to control the movements. Her mouth pressed further into you, licking at the same excruciatingly slow pace, seemingly taking her time to enjoy the taste she found between your thighs. “El,” you gasp, eyes fluttering open to glance down at her. However her eyes were closed, another press further into you came, her nose bumping your clit as she licked into you. The rush it brings is almost enough to completely paint over the lingering cramping in your stomach.

The dizzying mixture of pain and pleasure seeps into your bones, making you feel too heavy to do much else than move a hand to find Eliie’s hair, fingers tangling between the auburn strands. You tried again to guide her movements, but she was much stronger than you, paying little mind to the shaky hand that tugged at her locks.

“Taste so fuckin..” she sucked in a breath, unable to keep from dipping back into your folds, humming. “So fuckin’ good,” she finishes, words reverberating against your throbbing core. It had you trying to squirm, held down by the stone light weight of Ellie’s grip. The deeper she licked, the more you fought against her. Your body ached the do something.. anything to find comfort in the overwhelming feeling of her still slow pace. The fingers in her hair tugged again, finding a low groan in response.

The air of the room had already been heavy on your feverish skin, but now it was nearing a state of unbearably humid. Every time Ellie’s tongue made a particularly aimed movement you felt another round of fire straight in the mess that was your clenching core. It all felt so heightened, so much better. The sticky feeling on your skin did not slow either of you down, and you had little care for the sweat beading on your flesh. Not when your favorite girl’s lips were doing such mind numbing things to you.

Had you told your past self, even that of just an hour ago, that you would have allowed it to happen.. They would have laughed in your heated face. The past version of you would have sworn up and down, prayed up to the mysterious sky, that this would never happen. But now- now you have no room for denial or regret. Your mind was becoming too cloudy to house thoughts of shame, questions of if this was right. Because it felt right. The slick sound of Ellie’s mouth against you sounded right, as did your little huffs and puffs that you couldn't hide. The cramps had subsided in tandem with the tightening band in you. But you needed more, and you were gone past a point of being embarrassed to ask for it.

“I need..” you try to speak, but Ellie’s lips wrapping around your clit is the cause of the death of the forming words. A jolt of your hips is one finally strong enough to rupture the heavy hold of the vampire’s hand. Your lame attempt at a command did not go unheard by Ellie, who for the first time since this began, pulled herself away from your cunt. Her eyes darted up, looking to meet your own. But you were far too focused on something else. Her lips were glassy with your wetness, which she licked without a second thought. But the usual clear sheen that you had been no stranger to seeing on her face was more of a rosy color, a stark reminder of the reason this had begun in the first place. The slight tint of red smeared onto her chin, across the corners of her mouth, and it was oh so addicting to see. You felt no lingering shame, no shiver of disgust. Instead it made you feel even more desperate to have her against you again, but first you had to listen to her speaking. “Need what, babe?”

The urge to simply shove her face right back into your cunt flipped through the pages of scenarios in your head, but the moonlight that painted the side of your lover’s face, illuminating the red paintbrush stroke of you, had you a little too separate to risk such a bratty action.

“I need more, El. Need to cum,” you manage to whine, one light push of her head to prove your point. Ellie dipped her head down again, pressing small kisses to your sticky inner thighs. “Just love taking my time with you,” she muttered, a few more pecks planted on you were a search for forgiveness, one you graciously accepted with a loud moan when the lips finally found your clit again.

Ellie seemed to take your beg to heart, the hand that held your hip slowly dipping between your thighs. Her searching fingers met just below her chin, one long digit sliding over your slit, teasing the weeping hole with a slight press. The air feels like it has been punched from your lungs when the finger sinks into you, just as evil as her mouth as it curls into you the exact moment her lips suck a little harder. You were sure she was looking to torture you with how slowly the finger pumped in and out, working and exploring around your walls that gripped around her so tightly.

You had always heard the mythical vampire was sadistic. Ellie had never been much of that, but with ever slow movement into your aching cunt, you began to believe the whispers. Your head turned lightly to stare at the open window, the stars that dipped in the night sky were surely spotlighting your body splayed out on the bed, the auburn haired vampire between your thighs was quite the show for all the celestial beings up in the night air, every single being held its breath and watched on, you were sure of it. You didn't blame the stars, or the moon, or whatever else may have their attention focused on this tantalizing sight. If you could, you would float right out of your body to watch on yourself.

Surely you looked a mess, chest heaving with the heat of the air, with the heat of Ellie. Your limbs shook just lightly, your fingers knotted your companions hair, the messy pile of clothes on the floor, the red that painted her cheeks. Surely it would make your cheek turn bashfully if you could see it. Maybe this was sinful. The little dip into your rushing thoughts is ended with the raspy tone of Ellie’s voice.

“Relax, bunny. Gotta relax for me,” Ellie cooed against you, a few more languid presses into your cunt causing you to finally loosen around her, coupled by the continuing ministrations from her mouth on your clit. Soone another finger joins the mix, the large fingers stretching you just right. She reaches spots that have you remembering the stars you had just seen behind the black of your squeezed shut eyes, a pathetic cry falling from your lips. This reaction only encourages her to continue, the pace of her suckles and thrusts into you speed up. It's harsher everytime she plunges into you, your hips moving lightly with the pure force.

“That’s my girl, there you go,” she compliments after a long moan, the words causing another clench around her fingers. You let out another string of incoherent whines and moans, grinding down into her messy face and fingers. Somewhere in the back of your mind you cursed yourself and Ellie for the certainly ruined bedspread under your ass, but it seems like the much smaller issue when you had *this* to focus on. You were nearing your peak, and it was no secret. Your grinds against Ellie became sloppy, ununiformed and more needy than before. No words could form on your tongue, only whimpers and unintelligible begs.

The vampire never lets up, curling her fingers, your walls clenching. her teeth grazed against your clit lightly enough to have you trembling, whining softly. She knows your body as well as you do, every small sign you were reaching the final moments before your world would explode. She knew what moves of her fingers would have your legs shaking, knew where to press, how hard to go. She was no stranger to making you cum, and she definitely was on the mission to make it happen now. Her free hand grips your thigh, pushing you even more impossibly open for her, fingers pressing into you harshly enough to draw another cry. She readjusts slightly, sinking even deeper into your folds. “C’mon,” Ellie whispers, the word slightly broken, shaky and pleading. Pleading as if she needed you to come as much as you did.

Maybe she did, because the moment your back arched, a near pornographic moan filling the heavy air, spilling out of the window and swirling against the peeping eyes of the stars and moon, she moaned with you. Her fingers still within you as you gushed around her, her lips still pressed to your clit. But as your thighs shook, she slid the fingers out and replaced them with her tongue again. The pink muscle flattened against your slit again like it had earlier, this time with no attempt at going slow.

If anything, she was ravenous. Every drop your pulsing center gifted her, she sucked down like she needed it, ignoring your desperate whines of overstimulation. You attempted lamely to press her head away with the hand still tangled in her scalp, but it was no use. The pleasure of her tongue was much too overwhelming to fight.

After a moment that felt like hours, she pulled away. Her tongue licked over her lips again, collecting the rosy colored cum from where it smudged there. Her eyes stayed on your own blinking irises as her fingers raised to her already messy lips. They were coated with the same mixture of red and clear shining wetness, and she sunk them into her mouth with a moan. The debautchary that took place in front of your eyes should have your stomach queasy, should have your legs closing and pressing far away from Ellie.

But of course it doesn't, instead you watch on with morbid curiosity, watching her tongue curl around her fingers, sucking the last bits of you, leaving a glistening layer of her own spit behind. She found no shame in this situation, no shame in drinking down evey single thing you would give her, so why should you?

“Fuck,” you breathe, eyes transfixed on the fingers as they fall from her lips and down to her lap, her eyes back on your own. She makes a move to crawl over you, arms locking you in from either side.

“Just got a taste of you bunny,” she mumbles, nudging her head into the crook of your neck.

Her lips pressed there, and this time you could feel her fangs under the plump fat of her lip. “Gonna let me have more?” she questioned.

Of course you would, of course you did. As you tilted your neck for her, the curtain to the side of you blew in the wind, and you closed your eyes.

“Yes.”

#vampire!ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x fem reader #ellie williams x f!reader #ellie williams smut

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d3m0l1t10n-lvrs · 1 year

Text

☀️🌙DCA AWARDS: FIC NOMINATIONS!☀️🌙

Note:If you do not want your fic to be in the awards, please tell me so I can exclude your fic from the polls!

Polls will start tomorrow!

Click on the Xes for the fic links!

Abyssal lights by @phoenixdaneko X

Sunshine by @wacky-nameless-inventor-24 X

One Who Holds a Star by @justaduckarts X

Solar Lunacy by @bamsara X

The Night Shift by @certified-handler X

Cryptid Sightings by @naffeclipse X

Two Hunters and a Bloodsucker by @robinette-green X

Dead Mall Dare by @muzzlemouths X

Dealer's choice by @certified-handler X

Devine Pact(s) by @girlwiththeblueblood X

Fishy Business by @robinette-green X

Weal and Woe by @weal-and-woe X

Sleuth Jesters by @naffeclipse X

A Tail of Sun and Moon by @Omenofthevoid X

Coiled Around the Fine Line Between Love and Fear by @crazedauthor X

404:Personal Space not Found by @crazedauthor X

Forever Friends by @restinsodaroni X

Enthralling you, Enthralling me by @justfangirlstuffs X

you move to dayshift but aren't paid any more, go figure by @tuzesdays X

Days of Laughs and Nights of Screams by @justaduckarts X

To be Hunted by @celticwolfie X

Crimson Skies by @celticwolfie X

Astral Bodies by @venomous-qwille X

Sunspots, Craters and Mortal Things by @storytellingbadger X

I see you, Sundrop! By @shirajellyfish X

You Call This an Upgrade? By @writing-forever X

Holding the World by @anangelcalledinquisitor X

Scars and Scales by @intistone X

Death Games and Robots by @lets-zofifi-stuff X

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Copper Cogs Rusted Through by @paper-lilypie X

Visions (or lack thereof) by @sleepyjuniper X

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Twin Animatronics With Too Much Time on Their Hands by @twinanimatronics and @dana-chan-the-control-brain X

#dca awards #fnaf security breach #fnaf superstar daycare #sundrop #daycare attendant sun #fnaf sun #moondrop #moon fnaf #fnaf moon

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13rurururi · 10 months

Note

Can I request head-cannons on how the Hantengu clones deal with their shared female crush and how they confess to her. Along with what it’s like to date them? :)

Russian Roulette: Hantengu Clones x Reader (SFW Headcanons & Imagines)

Pairing/s: Sekido x Reader, Aizetsu x Reader, Karaku x Reader, Urogi x Reader

Content: female reader, jealousy, the demons fighting over you, etc.

Synopsis: Despite their clashing personalities, the four clones of Hantengu always upheld their ultimate goal of serving the Demon King. Aside from their loyalty and shared blood, they never entertained the possibility of having anything else in common — that was until they met you, an ambitious demon slayer that they can't get off their minds. In other words, they have a crush on you, and you've never been so conflicted in your life.

Being a demon slayer involves plenty of sacrifices and hardships that warrant unshakeable mental strength. You've lived your life with the threat of death looming at the back of your head, yet you only continue to hone your sharpened sword with a mask of courage and certainty.

One day, you arrive at the well-hidden Swordsmith Village to have your chipped blade repaired; unfortunately, your supposedly peaceful time at the hot springs is interrupted by swarms of killer goldfishes and four — annoyingly attractive — clones of the weeping, whining demon.

You release a battle cry as you witness your comrades get swept away by a strong blast of wind unleashed by the demon equipped with a fan. At this point, you were alone, knuckles whitening due to the swift build-up of rage and anxiety pooling in your stomach.

You unsheathe your katana, adapting a steady stance amidst the four demons who peered at you with their piercing, colored eyes.

However, you notice something quite odd hidden behind their peculiar gazes. Behind the kanji of "Upper Moon" and "Four," you curiously note a humane emotion that is rarely attributed to demons. Your instincts turn cogs in your head, and you arrive at a bewildering thought that sent a shiver through your body:

The four demons you are tasked to kill seem to be enamored with you.

SEKIDO

Something other than infuriation is stuck in his throat.

He will be in great denial when it comes to his infatuation for you.

He's a demon that is so straight-laced and strict; he never entertained the possibility of a developing a crush.

He'll be blushing a hue that could match the tint of his eyes — fiery red. He'll feverishly deny it, though.

If he is close to you in proximity, he'll turn so stiff and rigidly cling onto his staff, not uttering a word. This makes you think he dislikes you, but he's so enamored with you that he's actually rendered speechless.

If he manages to get over his raging anxiety when it comes to talking to you, he'll confess to you, very ambiguously.

You'll be confused if it was a declaration of love or war — his flustered expression and clamoring hands betray him, though, and you'll gently take his hand in yours, understanding settling in your chest.

It takes a while for him to truly shed off his stiffness and awkwardness; in time, he is quite the clingy lover. He ensures to always be by your side as you go sightseeing or stroll under the bright moonlight.

He enjoys quality time with you, after all.

Your first kiss is messy, a little awkward yet full of genuinely potent feelings. He smiles as his lips are pressed onto yours, grateful to be the man that will protect you for the rest of your mortal life.

The rage sitting on his tongue tasted different the moment he laid his eyes on you. He is a demon that gawks out consistent, clear orders to his fellow clones (who he considers as absolute buffoons that don't take their duties seriously).

However, he uncharacteristically wavers when he sees your subtly shivering form in front of him. He gulps and muffles a conflicted growl under his breath, stealing a glance at the other three, who seem to be as intrigued as he is.

What are you? His erratic mind considers the possibility of you being a Marechi, but he quickly dismisses that thought when he realizes that you are not wounded or bleeding in any way.

That's good —

Wait. Did he really feel relief when he confirmed your safety? He is a demon, for crying out loud!

His head spun with a mixture of confusion and rage towards the uncomfortable thump in his chest. What makes you so different, and why do you engulf his thoughts and bloodstream as if you were in control of him?

Whatever such an unfamiliar feeling may be, it should not deter him from accomplishing his duties under Muzan's orders; however, he couldn't bring himself to electrocute you.

Damn it. He harshly grits his teeth in realization: he wants to keep you alive and safe — you're too damn interesting to kill off. Sekido is undoubtedly in denial of his developing infatuation for you.

Unfortunately, his stubbornness prevents him from even approaching your glowering, quaking figure. He remains rooted on the same spot, opting to simply intensely gaze at you from afar.

KARAKU

His whole body tingles with excitement at your mere presence — you're so pleasing to look at.

He is an expressive suitor, and he spoils you with gifts and trinkets that remind him of you. Yes, his love language is gift giving.

Even if you appear closed-off, he will remain persistent yet patient. You wake up to various snacks, jewelry, and love letters scattered across your room.

You initially think that his feelings for you are superficial, but little did you know, no one has ever made Karaku's heart pump as loudly and powerfully as you.

You are already aware of his infatuation for you, but he still opts to declare his desire to be in a relationship with you through an immensely romantic gesture: rose petals scattered around a garden, lanterns sparkling brightly amidst the dark night, and an entrée of your favorite meals stacked on a tree stump.

He hates human food, as do any other demon, but he still makes an effort to ensure your happiness and satisfaction.

You may think his efforts diminish once you accept his proposal, yet it only heightens and strengthens.

You realize he truly loves you when he showcases how consistent, attentive, and patient he is. Even if you aren't always partaking in fun, exciting, and heart-pumping activities, Karaku is more than happy to be by your side.

You are his greatest pleasure, after all.

Cute, cute, cute! You are the cutest, prettiest little thing he has ever seen.

To him, you appear as a shiny, new plaything that could relieve him of his boredom. The night is still young, and he would love to spend it with you.

He remembers the hot springs by the slope of the mountains. His green-tinted eyes shine in excitement. If he invites you, would you come? He'll spare your life in exchange for a date!

He's much more straightforward and accepting of his feelings due to his insatiable nature that seeks novel and exciting experiences. He believes you could be the next best thing to happen to him after hundreds of years. Be a dear and accept his proposal, would you?

He approaches you cheerily, putting away his fan-like weapons. You step away and remain guarded, which only makes Karaku pout at you flippantly.

"Aww, don't be shy now. I won't hurt you if you agree to soak with me in the hot springs. How about that, pretty?"

He ignores the heated gazes aimed at his head by the other three behind him, well-aware that all of them feel a shared, unexplainable attraction to you.

The smirk on Karaku's face doesn't waver as he steps closer once more, and to his delight, you don't widen the distance between you and his tall, muscular figure.

Standing mere inches away from you, Karaku observes you with curious eyes — you're so cute with your quivering lips, dilated pupils, and glaring expression. You are unable to repress the shiver that runs through your veins when he licks his lips as he stares at yours.

Karaku is quite expressive with his evident infatuation for you, and he shortly sighs at the imagery of you and him entangled in one another in the hot springs. It's an unfamiliar feeling, but he is accepting of everything new and exciting. In this case, the new and exciting is none other than you.

Opting to close the inches of distance between you, he raises his free hand to caress your face; however, before he can make any contact with you, his movement is ceased with a firm grasp on his forearm—

Aizetsu?

AIZETSU

He wants to rid of all the sadness in your soul.

He shows his affection towards you through attentive and caring actions.

He isn't verbally expressive, and he oftentimes averts his gaze away from you if you catch him staring.

With how reserved he appears (paired with the tiny frown that settles firmly on his mouth), you initially assumed that he is indifferent towards you.

However, his actions speak louder than words — whenever you strain yourself too much, he quietly offers to massage the tension away from your shoulders; when you have a subtle downcast expression behind your smiles, he instantly picks up on it and sits you down, gently intertwining his fingers in yours.

"You can talk to me; I'm here to listen."

He is an amazing listener, and he will never pressure you into accepting him as your lover.

In fact, you're the one who decides to propose to him, assuring him that you return his feelings in the same magnitude.

His lips would quiver, and his his eyes would widen in surprise for a fraction of a second. Then — to your immense shock — he smiles. His smile is gentle, soft, and warm — a testament to his affection for you.

Once you begin dating, the trust you have for each other only deepens, and many sweet secrets and burdensome tales are shared between you.

You've never felt so safe with someone before, and you're certain that he'll love you no matter the circumstance; you will never be a burden to him.

You are the sole warmth of his gloomy heart, after all.

The constant whir of depressive thoughts seem to halt for a brief moment. His downturned eyes and furrowed brows twitch in awe at the mere sight of you.

You are so magnetic.

He silently gapes at you from where he stood, realizing that you have entranced the others as much as you've enticed him. He catches Sekido swallow a flustered expression and Karaku approach you with overflowing excitement in his jovial movements.

Aizetsu remains in a trance of bewildering yet intriguing emotions; however, seeing Karaku raise his hand to grasp you makes him instinctively — in a nearly primal response — sprint towards you, ceasing Karaku's hand from even touching a hair on your body.

"What do you think you're doing?" Karaku's carefree expression melts away, now replaced with restrained annoyance that slips through his voice.

"A lady under stress cannot give you proper consent to touch her," Aizetsu calmly yet firmly declares, releasing his uncharacteristically tight grip on his fellow demon's forearm.

"Hah!? Who are you to say what's right or not — you're a damn demon, for crying out loud! You're always so boring as hell, Aizetsu!" With each sentence, Karaku's chipper voice grew into a deeper, rougher bark.

You notice him curl his fists into a ball, veins bulging out due to irrepressible pressure. Aizetsu faces him calmly, his ever-present frown deepening.

Are these demons — clones of the Upper Moon Four — about to fight each other over you?

As you stand there with a flabbergasted expression replacing your initial look of determination, Aizetsu cranes his neck to gaze at you; his gaze softens.

"I'm so sorry you have to witness this. It saddens me to see you in great distress."

Your mouth gapes at his polite and genuine tone. Before you could utter some sort of response, the demon adorned with massive wings interrupted the bubbling confrontation.

UROGI

He'd sacrifice his joy if it means you could live your life in eternal happiness.

His flippant personality turns down a notch once he realizes his attraction towards you.

He doesn't want you to think that he's pursuing you out of boredom.

However, he gets a little too overwhelmed with bursts of happiness circulating throughout his body when he's near you.

For the most part, you bear witness to him intently ogling at you with dilated pupils, wings fluttering in intermittent jitters.

He's like a puppy! Well, he has the literal anatomy of an eagle, yet you can't help but internally swoon at his dog-like mannerisms.

If you invite him to spend time with you under the stars, it's with utmost certainty that he agrees with unhidden glee.

He gets so wholesomely joyful when you reciprocate his display of affection.

He is quite the smooth-talker, tongue always prepared with a quip that makes you burst in wheezing laughter.

He's also well-equipped when it comes to comforting you with soothing affirmations of love and comfort. You can't help but fall into his strong embrace as he whispers promises of a better tomorrow.

When he engulfs you in a hug, his wings act as another layer of warmth and protection, making you melt deeper into his body as you sigh in contentment.

You establish a relationship without even needing a direct confession — which you initially found ironic, considering how his words and tender touches were the main driving force of your intimacy.

In the end, your presence fills him with indescribable happiness, and he would spend the rest of his life ensuring that you feel the same sensation of joy.

For the first time in his centuries as a demon, he feels the smile plastered on his face falter. Why, why, why — why are the other demons obviously enticed by your presence?

When you caught his gaze, he felt a cold shiver rush through the span of his body, up to the tips of his wings. It is terrifyingly unfamiliar, yet he wishes to feel more of the ecstasy your mere existence makes him feel.

He wants you all to himself — he wants to grasp you by your waist and fly you above the clouds. He wants to feel your warm palms pressed against his chest as he flies through gorgeous sceneries that he wishes to witness with you.

However, that's easier said than done.

Sekido — that annoying stick-in-the-mud — is quiet in deep contemplation for once in his life. Apart from that, you are currently in between a raging Karaku and an uncommonly unyielding Aizetsu.

Urogi feels his talons chip at the coarse dirt below him, and as if he cannot bear to see the shadow of fear in your eyes any longer, he slacks his jaw and screams.

His attack won't harm the demons around him; after all, they share the same cells, but it still effectively brings the attention to him and away from you. He wants to give you a moment to breathe, and you somehow deduce the intent of his gesture from the slight crinkle of his bright eyes.

Urogi's head-splitting screech results in all four demons glowering at one another. A realization settles in the air and a twinge of possessiveness and unbridled desire become potent.

No words are spoken, yet they all seem to finally comprehend the situation: they all want you, and you won't be shared. The cells in their bodies furiously screech in yearning for your touch, attention, and entirety. It was a terribly atypical feeling, but who are they to restrain themselves from attaining satiety? They're demons, after all, and they want you — even if it means fighting each other.

It felt like forever until all four pairs of eyes gazed at you once more. A painful rush of fear, confusion, and anticipation courses through your body. However, before you could regain a fighting stance, the one with the blood-red eyes spoke,

"Slayer, we have decided to settle our differences in private. Until then, know that we will be returning, and one of us will take you as our lover."

You simply leave your jaw hanging low, rendered speechless by the bewildering declaration. You hear the distant shouts of Tanjiro and your fellow slayers, and you turn your head towards the direction of their presence for a mere second, quickly gazing back at the demons —

They're gone.

The field is left empty and you are left baffled in a spiral of conflicting emotions. You feel your legs wobble, and you fall to your knees. Your heart hammers in your chest as you heave loudly at the demons' intentions:

They will be back, and one of them will take you — a human — as their bride.

A/N: I tested out a new format involving (hopefully) discernable switches from headcanons to imagines. The bulleted points are basically the clones daydreaming about dating you — they're simping, for real.

Anyway, I hope it's to your liking, Anon, even if I diverged a little from your request. I just wanted to see some internal conflict from the Hantengu clones, hehe. Maybe in another life — another post — they could be reincarnated into the modern era and actually spend time with you.

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lilspooky-doll · 9 months

Text

True Happiness — pt. 1

pairing — Aegon II Targaryen x Handmaid! Reader

summary — All Prince Aegon wanted growing up with the parents he had was to experience true happiness; not happiness from drinking, not happiness from inflicting insults against others but real happiness you can only experience with someone you feel deeply for. Even at a very early age, he believed he was going to end up drunk and worse than his absentee father until she came along to clean up the pieces.

themes — fluff, aegon is a soft boi, language, blood descriptions, alicent using others to fix her problems, brat! aegon, au! aegon, au! house of the dragon, female! reader, clingy! aegon

author’s note — here’s part 1 of True Happiness. i had to split it into two separate parts. this part is more of the starts of their relationship and part two is more of the “adult” parts. there will probably be ‘themes’ / warnings the next part as well so please be on the lookout for those. please enjoy!

ñuha hūra - my moon

ñuha jorrāelagon - my love

part 2

Looking through the shine of a blazing sun, the Red Keep was a marvelous stronghold that housed Kings and Queens of old, experienced the biggest feasts throughout the Seven Kingdoms and protects the very rulers of said Kingdoms. From the outside looking in, it seemed to be a peaceful day with the usual commotion that the royals and the Council lived in. However, this day was anything but normal.

In the dead of the night previously, the great King Viserys had finally greeted the Stranger leaving only his dear second wife, Alicent Hightower, the witness to such a tragedy. With the King gone from this world, the plans set in place by the Hand and his daughter would get to see the light of day and be pursued wholeheartedly — the plan of usurping the eldest of Viserys’ children from her throne and fitting the eldest son to the Iron Throne. Now upon discovery, There’s only one fatal flaw in this plan. Aegon has seemed to have just vanished, almost as if he never even existed with those hallowed walls.

Searching high and low, through the streets of Kings Landing and even down in Flea Bottom, not a single living soul has seen the prince in almost two full sun rotations. His chambers were tidy but empty of a few worldly possessions and some very homely clothes he had requested be made months ago. This abrupt vanishing had caused the Hand to fervently badger his child for answers as if she would know where he went.

“Father, the Cargyll twins and Aemond have been searching for him since we first discovered his chambers empty of him in the early hours.” Alicent flinched as Otto violently twisted his body in the middle of pacing to make eye contact with her.

“If he is gone, all I have done will be for nothing! Do you understand that? Everything will fall and that whore of a Targaryen will be the queen of the Seven Kingdoms!” Otto screamed into the flush face of the now widow seemingly blaming her for the faults of her eldest.

Stepping back a tad bit, Alicent placed some space between them before trying to look back up at the anger beaming down at her. “Well… Why not fit Aemond for the crown? He’s much more adept and would be a much more reliable King than Aegon would.”

The mere suggestion of Aemond caused the cogs in the Hand’s mind to rapidly turn as he began to place the second son in the spots where Aegon originally fit into his scheme. Slowly, a devious smirk stretched the aging wrinkles on his face as it appeared the prince’s disappearance brought a blessing down from the Seven that albeit was going to be much more successful in Otto’s dark eyes.

“Have Aemond fetched and brought back. I believe we have a more perfect opportunity in seeing the second son be the King.”

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Life at the moment seemed impossible to the Queen. While handling the Council with her father, the Hand of the King and her ailing husband, her eldest son has apparently made it his purpose to deal with his problems. At ten name days old, Aegon has been through at most three handmaiden— each leaving the staff of the Red Keep due to his… antics. Every woman has reported back to her stating that he was the most arrogant brat who had it out for anyone who wouldn’t bring his mother to him.

Granted, Alicent could be blamed for his behavior as she has actively avoided personally handling her son — only seeing him as the end of her friendship with Princess Rhaenyra and the end of her girlhood. On a deep down level, she resented Aegon for what he represented in her eyes since she was only just a pawn in her father’s sick, twisted game. But, she wasn’t the only one to be blamed for why he sought so much attention so often. Viserys had a hand in all of this being that after his second name day, he has refused to acknowledge her boy as the heir to the Iron Throne and has gone to even ignore all of his children outright.

Desperate times called for desperate measures, was all Alicent chanted in her head as she sat in her solar waiting for Ser Criston to arrive with what she deemed her last ditch effort. Picking at the skin around her nails, the waiting made her anxious. She felt guilty for what she was about to do but, she’s at her wits end with Aegon and she hoped that this person would save everyone’s sanity.

A knock disrupted Alicent’s incessant thoughts as she bolted her head to watch Ser Criston open the door and made room for her so-called ‘saving grace’ to walk through. A girl of about two and ten shuffled through between the guard and the door keeping her eyes down at her feet. Once the girl made her way through, she dipped into a curtsy and muttered out a quiet Your Majesty.

Brushing off the imaginary dust on her emerald green gown, the Queen stood up from her seat on her cushioned bench and gracefully walked to set herself in front of the girl. She examined the young child making note of her neat hair that was braided away from her face and the typical clothes that most of the maids wore in the keep: a plain brown dress covered by a sullied white apron.

“Some of the maids tell me that any coin that you have made is sent to your family. Is that correct in their assumptions?” Alicent questioned using her hand to gently guide the girl’s chin forcing her to make eye contact.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” she whispered out hoping that was the answer the Hightower woman was looking for.

“Good. I will be upping the amount of coin you receive but, you will only receive the extra amount as long as you stay on as Prince Aegon’s personal handmaiden. If you leave your duties as such, the extra coin will be revoked. Am I understood?”

A sick feeling of satisfaction filled Alicent’s belly as the young girl nodded and whispered out her affirmation. With a pat on the head, Alicent signaled for Ser Criston to lead the girl to Aegon’s chambers hoping that this all works out in a positive way, not ending in another maid gone from the keep to be replaced.

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Pitying looks could be seen from every servant that passed by the guard and young maid duo as if they all knew what her fate was. They all made it seem like she was on her way to the executioner, not to the prince’s chambers. Even with all the looks, it didn’t settle the feeling in her chest, the closer that Ser Criston guided her through the hallways to his room.

She’s heard all of the rumors from the other women and girls she worked with. She heard that the prince played nasty pranks, spoke in vulgar ways to disturb the maid or just flat out made their job living Hells. It was suspected that he did all of this as a way for the maids to report what he’s done to his mother, the Queen in hopes she would personally come to see him. Behaving like that just to receive some sort of attention from a parent seemed like a very sad way to live and no matter what kind of wealth they had, feeling loved was better than any riches a person could have.

As they rounded the last corner before the hall that led to the eldest prince’s chambers, all that could be heard was the muffled yells of an enraged child accompanied by the splintering of wood against the stones. A shaky breath expelled from your lips in an attempt to calm her down. Even though this became a less than ideal position to have in the Red Keep, all she knew was that the extra coin you would receive would go a long way to help out her family. She’s doing this for them, to make sure they have everything they need even if this could all end badly.

Nearing closer and closer, the racket became more and more clear making her more and more nervous. Now was not the time to let emotions control her; time to regulate and wipe any traces of whatever it was she was feeling off of her face. Getting up close to the door, she began to realize that the behavior her young self was going to deal with was destructive.

Just as they reached the door, Ser Criston knocked on the chamber door breaking the noise into silence. After a moment had passed, the knight opened the way and revealed the scene to them. There he was — young Prince Aegon — arms frozen in mid air holding what looked like a splintered wooden chair leg and surrounding him were the remains of said chair, shattered by the stone that made up the structure of the room.

Shocked to be interrupted, Aegon quickly composed himself brushing his silvery blond hair away from his eyes before he decided to lay into his mother’s knight.

“Where is she? Is she coming to finally speak with me?” Aegon pressed Ser Criston, his voice slowly rising in octave and cracking with emotions. “Why is she refusing to see me? I JUST WANT MY MOTHER!”

These were the ramblings of a child desiring affection from someone— or rather someones —who could not spare them any care or love. It was very evident to every soul living within these walls that the King cared for no other child than his eldest, Princess Rhaenyra regardless of how he behaved during Aegon’s first years as only child to his mother. Moreso, it was very subtle but it was becoming more obvious as the prince grew older that the Queen preferred her other children to him.

Unperturbed by the outburst, Ser Criston cleared his throat before speaking, “Her Majesty has assigned a new handmaiden to you. She kindly requests for you to be more pleasant with this one.”

Red began to seep into the pores of his pale face at the knight’s declaration. How could his mother make such a demand through the guards when she so blatantly avoids seeing him at all costs. If she could just visit him on good terms once, Aegon would stop it all; the pranks, the vicious words, Hells even the drinking that he was beginning to indulge in more.

“I don’t care what my mother wishes for me to do. I do not need a handmaiden, let alone a new one to replace the others. I wish for my mother, the Queen. Why won’t she come to visit me?” argued the Prince hoping to receive some kind of message from his mother that meant she wanted to actually be around him for once.

Using his argument as the prompt to leave, Ser Criston turned around, patted the young maid’s head before dismissing himself from the chambers. An uncomfortable silence filled the air as the maid stood at the door with her eyeline directed towards the ground and the prince’s violet eyes stared her down. There was a burning sensation alight on her exposed neck like the prince’s glare was burning through her head and down her spine.

Knowing her place, she never looked up towards his face. She knew that making eye contact with a royal or anyone of status would incur their wrath and they would punish the worker how they see fit. That was something that she would never do unless she was ordered to do so. Just feeling the prince’s stare on her was enough to break down her composure but now was not a time to be afraid; she needed to be composed and do her job.

With a straightened posture and a deep breath, she began to move towards the mess as carefully as possible. Anyone looking in on the situation would think she was approaching a skittish animal not the eldest son to the King of the Seven Kingdoms. It was almost laughable being put into a situation like this and at the same time, it couldn’t have been more dire of a situation.

Slow in her approach, she brought herself to her knees and one by one, picked up the splinters of wood placing them within the linen of her apron. She was careful to make sure none of the wood sunk into the plush pads of her fingers and careful to not warrant any of Aegon’s wrath. Even with the tense situation, she remained as unbothered as she possibly could be and just did her duties as a personal handmaiden to the prince; keep his quarters tidy, keep his life simple and everything should go splendidly.

It was a little unsettling, watching the maid tidy up the mess piece by piece. Granted, it wasn’t abnormal for a maid to clean but it was when they provided an outright reaction to his behavior. Aegon has seen it all; the older ones would try to discipline him like he was the child and the younger ones had a habit of being too noisy. But, this one was the youngest one yet — well he could only assume — and she was not acting like how he expected she would. He was waiting for something— a snide remark, shifty eyes, twitchy fingers— just something that would allow him to scare her away like he did the rest.

Just watching her collecting the broken wood made something bubble in his belly. Aegon couldn’t place his finger on what that feeling was but, whatever it was, it was not a feeling he wanted to relish in. It was a change to the anger and deep sadness that he has been experiencing and he wanted to latch onto them, keeping them close to his chest. In his deep observation, the young royal began to backpedal away from the center of his room making his way towards his messy bed covered in his plush blankets and fluffy pillows.

Violet eyes stayed focused on the hunched figure in her dirty apron and plain maid’s dress. Each piece of splintered wood being collected was like a piece of his anger being neatly brought back to him in the form of something calmer. The process of focusing on her smooth hands working so carefully yet so diligently caused the boiling rage that exploded earlier to simmer down to an eerie calm; a calm that he feels that he only experiences when he’s blissfully asleep in his cozy bed.

The blazing sun of high noon reflected through the window onto the carpets of Aegon’s chambers decorating the floor in fractured iridescence. After being focused on her working form for so long, Aegon’s anger had calmed into a gentle stream of just peace. He doesn’t remember the last time where he hadn’t felt anger towards his treatment from his parents or sadness from only ever seeing his mother at supper time or even when she came to admonish him. It seemed like forever ago when his mother had begun to push him on maesters, the guards or Ser Criston Cole hoping for their teachings to rectify his bratty behavior.

“Your Grace, allow me to take a look at your hands,” a small voice broke Aegon’s deep seated concentration drawing his attention to her delicate face that was honed in on his clasped hands.

Without so much as a fight, the young boy dropped his hands into her outstretched ones. He could feel how soft they felt brushing over the lines and details of his; he wondered how they were so soft considering all the work he knows that the maids do in a day. Soft twists and turns with feather-light touches brushed against the contours searching for something that marred the skin of the royal.

“May I say something, Your Grace?” Yet another soft whisper answered by a noncommittal hmph before the young maid continued, “I hope I am not speaking out of turn but, whenever anger roams free, it could easily turn into wrath. Never allow your emotions to reach that point… Please try to find a way to redirect it by putting more focus into training. The Queen would be devastated if you allowed this anger to fester to the point where you harm yourself accidentally.”

With the end of her advice, she gently folded the prince’s hand back into his lap before she stood up resuming the position she had when she first came into the chambers. A curtsy to signify herself leaving, out she went with the broken pieces of Aegon’s anger and a scent of delicate flowers lingered in the air.

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Weeks have passed since the first encounter between the new handmaiden and the prince and Aegon has tried relentlessly to see if he could rattle her like he did the others. Every little prank, tantrum, cruel words and even the occasional childish attitude was being met with almost a deadpan expression and an unperturbed Your Grace before she would continue about her duties as his handmaiden.

Aegon’s breaking point came much sooner than he thought when she came to his chambers with his tray of food to break his fast in the ambience of the rising sun. As she filled his cup with fresh water, Aegon decided now was the time to see what her problem was; why she seemed so unaffected by his brutish ways when even some of the knights have cringed at his behavior.

“I have done every little thing that I possibly know to get some reaction out of you other than that dead look you seem to have on your face. Every other handmaid my mother has sent my way would’ve been gone by the second insult or the first prank I have played.” Aegon took a second to catch his breath in his ranting before he continued with, “Why are you still here?”

The trickle of water into the metal cup ceased as she placed the pitcher back onto the tray with the rest of the morning food. Taking a moment to collect herself before facing the prince, she breathed out a deep sigh at his words. Of course she should’ve been gone by now but, honestly, dealing with the foolish ways of the boy made her miss her brothers and the wild activities they would do. If anything, working with Aegon made her feel at home oddly enough. The money she was receiving from the Queen could definitely be a motivator for some people on holding their wits but, the handmaiden started to think that the money was starting to not be a main factor in her staying; she actually was beginning to enjoy the extent Prince Aegon would go to try to torment her.

“I’ll be honest with you, Your Grace. You remind me of home, of my brothers who would endlessly try to startle me or torment me in the ways you have. Yes, some of your words were hurtful but, I quite enjoy being your handmaiden. Dare I say, I am beginning to see you as a friend.” She stopped for a brief second looking up into the violet eyes trained on her. “In our short time together, I have come to believe that you are just a boy who is lonely, who longs for a companion that understands you. I wish I can be that for you, Your Grace.”

At her bold admission, Aegon couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Someone wanted to be near him, to be a friend to him despite all of the awful things that he has done and said to his maid. His eyes began to blur the image of his… friend and waterfalls of tears streamed down his soft, pale cheeks. For once, someone willingly wanted to be close to him and it made the well of emotions in his body overflow. He was feeling too many emotions at once and it overwhelmed him a bit. Happiness at the admission of having someone on his side. Sadness at wondering why it took so long for anyone to see through the misery he often bestowed upon others. Angry that his mother’s plans for a maid almost as young as he is to fulfill any of his tasks had worked. The flooding of feeling had started to fill in the cracks of his broken self.

Without even a second thought, Aegon in his teary state threw his body at his handmaid’s form wrapping his arms around her torso and burying his streaked face into her shoulder. Startled by the physical contact the prince initiated, she was quick to wipe the look of shock from her face before replacing it with a gentle smile. Her woolen sleeve arms wrapped around the shaking form attached to hers pulling the broken prince tighter in their embrace. Soothing whispers were spoken into the silvery-blonde hair tickling her flush cheek. No response to her words needed to be spoken; Aegon’s reaction was proof enough that he appreciated his kind handmaiden.

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After that tear-filled day, it became common knowledge that between the two of them, they could depend on the other. His sweet handmaid began to switch out the ale and mead he was consuming increasingly throughout the days with water or flavorful teas that were much more beneficial to his health. Aegon was quick to pick up on the changes and was ever so grateful to have her at his side as a confidant and his closest – only – friend. He actively sought out to spend time with her in any way that he could whether it was having you mend torn clothes in the training yard when he was there or just peaceful strolls through the courtyard when he had time in his busy schedule.

In exchange, the Targaryen prince made sure she had plenty of newer clothes that fit her much more than the old maid dress she usually wore. If it was up to him, his maid would be wearing gowns as beautiful as his sister Helaena’s gowns but she stopped him before he could even give her one. On top of the new dresses and aprons, Aegon made sure that where she slept in the servant quarters was perfect and that there was nothing that could make her sick and unable to enjoy the fresh air with him. Sometimes, he would sneak extra coins into the letters she sent out making sure whoever received the letters would have all the extra money they needed. He even put aside a few gold dragons for her to spend on herself when needed.

It was obvious to the inhabitants of the Red Keep to the changes Viserys’ eldest son exuded. The change for the servants and the guards was a very welcomed one as they no longer had to hear the words the prince would hurtle at people and the pranks that brought misery to many unlucky participants. The council thought of the change as Prince Aegon had started to mature and was trying to prepare himself as heir to the Iron Throne. But, even though many thought of this change as a good thing brought upon them by the Seven, it was hard to ignore the rumors that were spreading.

Of course, many were witness to the first rumor: the prince was almost never seen without his dutiful handmaid walking beside him. Every person who had been witness to this sight could all testify to the fact that every time the prince and maid were caught together, the prince was animated in talking with her and the maid was listening to him with a soft smile etched into her face. Some people have rumored to see them holding hands during walks when the Keep was too busy to pay full attention to the boy of ten name days and the girl of two and ten.

Others whispered that there was something more nefarious going on between the maid and the prince but no one would lend their ear to hear such conspiratorial ramblings. Those odd few always sounded the same; the young girl is a witch and has come to steal away the Targaryen for whatever dark and evil deeds she needed. It was very strange for such a rumor to spread but in the end, it was gossip that kept the maids giggling and snickering every time she moved past them.

Although there were rumors that could damage their reputation, no one could deny how much happiness radiated off of the two of them.

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For a two and ten name day celebration, it was tiny compared to his first two name day feasts but tiny meant that it would all be over fairly quickly without cutting into his evening schedule. Aegon was anxious to leave the hall and make his way to the Godswood where he knew that she would be waiting there for him.

The feast consisted of mainly his family, the council and any of their family that lived within the stone walls. It was very simple and that made Aegon happy; he didn’t need to have a giant name day feast like his half-sister Rhaenyra gets. Simple was enough for him now. No longer was he the young spoiled brat — even though he’s still very young. Now he’s changed for the better and he’s been enjoying the smaller things in life for the past two years.

After waiting for the perfect chance, his mother, Alicent, announces her leave from the feast giving Aegon the opening he needed to escape the hall. He wanted a few moments after she left the sight of everyone before he took his leave as well except he didn’t announce it like his mother — just a silent slip through the hall doors and out into the corridor. The large doors were shut without so much as a little click as it slid back into place. Once he was out of view of all the attendees, Aegon swiftly made his way through the corridors out into the breeze of the early evening air.

The cool breeze coming off of the sea made the rest of his walk more enjoyable as the prince continued on his way towards the Godswood. Leaves rustling in the gentle wind and light slaps of bird wings filled the air around the steps of Aegon’s boots against the soft natural ground. Soon came the sight he was so anxious to see. His lovely handmaid dressed in just a plain brown dress without her normal apron resting against the heart tree with a book in her lap. This was what made the boy most excited about today; spending time with her as she read aloud to them both and Aegon used the sturdier trees as practice dummies.

“I see that you have started without me, ñuha hūra,” Aegon’s words came out almost too cocky but she knew that he meant to be teasing in his statement. “What tales will we be learning tonight?”

A girlish chuckle left her lips at his responses. “They are not tales as they are more history. I thought it would be very fitting to learn about the first of your name, Aegon the Conqueror,” the girl of four and ten paused for a moment before she started back up again. “I’ve noticed that you have been calling me something other than my name. Will you ever tell me what it means?”

A sly smirk stretched itself across the planes of his pale face. “I don’t think I will. Guess you’ll just have to learn Valyrian to understand it.”

At his statement, the handmaid took his words as a challenge—determined to figure out what he has been calling her recently and to possibly be able to speak the royal language to surprise him. Shaking her head at his antics, she looked down at the book in her lap and pulled the cover off the pages to reveal the title page, The Life and Conquest of Aegon I Targaryen.

While his maid got herself ready to read aloud to the two of them, Aegon reached into the roots of the heart tree to pull out a wooden sword he had stolen from the training yard and positioned himself in front of a scrawny tree that was growing only a short distance away. He was far enough that if the sword or the tree splintered, the fragments wouldn’t be anywhere near her but he was close enough that he could clearly hear her angelic voice speak of bloody history.

Readying himself into the proper stance, Aegon began to slice away at the tree acting as if the tree was like one of the practice dummies used in the training yard, like the ones Ser Criston Cole is constantly making him and his brother work on for the hours they do training. Practicing twice a day like this was his way of getting better hoping one day he could surpass the skill of the kingsguard and of course, it was a bonus that during this time, it was uninterrupted moments of peacefulness with his maid — who he was beginning to think of as more than his closest friend.

With wacks and thuds, Aegon let the melodic sound of her voice and the repetition of the wood put his body into a trance. His mind drifted away to sweeter moments than this one where he would confess his feelings to his beautiful handmaid, where he could see a future outside of his royal duty, where he could be free from the scheming eye of his grandsire and live a life like the rest of the Seven Kingdoms. They were dreams that were so far out of reach, ones that would move further away just as he came close to reaching out to them but it never hurt to think of life being more fulfilling outside of the walls of the Red Keep.

From her distance, she had kept reading aloud the passages detailing the life of Aegon the Conqueror finding it all riveting and oh so captivating that Aegon’s form started to blur out of focus from the rim of her peripheral. She was fascinated and consumed that the present Aegon would have to live up to such high standards for his name. It caused a seed of worry to plant itself in her chest just thinking that Aegon had more on his platter purely because he was second of his name and the first was the one to unite the kingdoms. Being so enthralled with this piece of history and her worry, she failed to notice the difference in Aegon’s form; his eyes zoned out and his form was atrocious at best. It appeared that the both of them had the same dazed look in their eyes as their minds drifted away from this reality.

“Ah, fuck!!” A loud curse and the sounds of something shattering broke the dazed states of the young duo. Startled by the noises, she broke her attention from the aged pages and bolted up from her seat rushing over to the prince’s hunched form.

“My prince! What has happened?” she questioned rotating her body to be face to face with him. All she could see was the top of his silver head and his arms tucked into his body.

Looking around, her eyes laid upon the broken practice sword lifeless against the soft, grassy surface. Turning her attention back to Aegon, she gently pushed on his shoulder to reveal his face red with pain and his right hand protectively covered by his left keeping it close to his chest.

“Let me have a look, my prince,” she stated slightly tugging on his hands in hopes for him to reveal the problem.

He resisted shaking his head and clutching his hands tighter against himself. Gritting his teeth in pain and using his hair as a shield, he was hoping she would just leave him alone so he could recollect himself and make himself out to be a man in front of her. Gods forbid if she thought of him as anything other than a man — even though he was in the early stages of changing into one.

The pain was consistent in the deep scratch of his dominant hand after his sword — a pathetic excuse for one — had snapped under his sloppy tactics. So distracted in his painful misery, he couldn’t see that her delicate hands made their way towards his face cupping his flushed cheeks. With her hands lightly clasped around his face, she pulled his head up from his chest and forced him to meet her eye.

Violet eyes met the twinkling stars that appeared to be her eyes. They captivated him on a deeper level like watching the sky light up at night when the moon is hiding out of sight. It was a deeper bond forming between them, a bond that differed greatly to his bond to his golden dragon, Sunfyre. This very moment was working its way to be a pivotal event in their lives and Aegon was doing all he could to soak up her attention and the feel of her hands on his face.

She carefully removed her left hand from his face and used it to remove the protective hold he had over his injured right hand. Pulling apart his calloused fingers exposed a deep gash pooling dark crimson blood around the angry flesh that’s riddled with splinters. The crimson hid the kind of red one would only see when flesh was marred past its original state. Just on looks alone, the wound had to have been painful and she knew that Aegon was trying to be strong about it despite the tears.

Gently and softly, she maneuvered his shaking body towards her previous seat of the heart tree making sure he kept his eyes on her and away from the wound. She helped lower Aegon to the nestling of roots making it comfortable for him as she positioned herself in front of him on her knees. Once she had him situated, she tore a strip of fabric from her underdress ripping it further into smaller pieces; one piece to clean and the other to wrap it until they could reach the Maesters.

“My apologies, my prince. I know this will hurt but only for a short while,” she spoke reassuring him as she placed the injured hand in her lap to pull the tiny splinters out before wrapping it up.

One by one, the pieces were removed being tossed to the soft grassy floor and with each removal, the young Targaryen hissed in pain as he only allowed himself to do that instead of tears.

“Not crying and holding in your pain does not make you a man. Crying shows that you have emotions and are more than capable of being compassionate to others. It releases energy that has been brewing over time.” Her words startled the boy causing him to reveal his unshed tears in his bright, wide eyes.

Wiping his face quickly with his free hand, he snarked, “And who had told you that? Hmm, ñuha hūra? I would presume it was your mother.”

“My father, actually. He would always remind my brothers that crying would never make them less of a man. It made them more of one because they weren’t afraid of being emotional and it helped release anything that was being kept locked away from within,” she retorted, continuing her work seeing as there were only a few wood pieces left before she needed to clear away the blood that kept pooling.

Aegon paused at her words before he sputtered out, “So, you would still see me as a man even if I cried in front of you? You won’t want to be rid of me?”

A giggle broke the delicate planes of her face quickly being replaced by a smile. “Why would I rid you? I feel like you have forgotten that you have cried in my presence quite a few times already, Aegon. You are just a boy in many people's eyes but to me, you are more of a man than some of the men that sit on the Council!”

“Could you say that again?” Lavender fields gazed into starry skies at her words.

“Say what again, my prince? That you’re a man..”

“No, my name. Say my name again. I beg of you.”

Stunned by his declaration, a sigh escaped her lips before she whispered out, “Aegon.”

No longer focused on the pain, Aegon could feel his heart soar like it was flying through the skies and bursting through the clouds. His true companion in life sounded so delectable saying his name. It was an almost tangible taste in his mouth just from her calling his name like that. Of course, the way she initially said it was in every form, an innocent and friendly way but, he’s a growing boy who was beginning to feel the effects of his body turning him into a man. His name was like a drug that now he had a taste of it, he is going to want it always.

A sweet smile contrasted the redness in the whites of his eyes as he gazed at her. “From this day forth, I want you to call me by my name. It’s so lovely coming from you, unlike from everyone else.”

“As you wish, my prince Aegon,” she answered him, causing his heart to soar yet again.

They continued to gaze into each other’s eyes like the sunny day shining down on fields of lavender petals and the stars twinkling in the inky darkness of the night. They both felt a bundle of warmth unfurling in their chests accompanied by the feeling of pure happiness. Being together in this moment made them feel as if they were the only people in all of Westeros and absolutely nothing would tear them apart from one another. In that moment, the friendly love they both shared was blossoming into a love that Aegon was beginning to feel for his beautiful handmaid, a love that she would soon share with him.

Blinking away their locked gaze, a subtle blush graced her cheeks as she brought her focus back down to the wound. She scanned his hand one last time making sure she removed all the splinters that she could find and began to gently gather the deep blood with half of the torn underdress strip. The starch white of the underdress absorbs the sanguine fluid transforming the fabric into its deep seated color. Fully saturated, she removed the cloth, putting it into the pocket of her plain dress and using the other piece to wrap up the exposed injury.

Finished with her work, she sighed out, “Well, we shall make our way to the Maesters for them to fully take care of the wound.”

She stood up from their spot and brushed off the dirt and grass that had accumulated at her knees. Looking at the prince, she could see a dazed look in his eyes and a soft smile that she has only seen him use when she was around — she’s seen peaks of a different yet similar smile when he would listen to Helaena’s bug-related monologues.

Aegon, still dazed and heart thumping hard in his chest, gracefully removes himself from the tree roots standing opposite to her as she lowered herself down again to grab the history book from its nest in the greenery of the floor. Waiting for her to straighten herself out, he held his uninjured hand out for her to interlock their fingers when she was ready to. Even with the wound throbbing in his right hand, all he could focus on was the beauty next to him. The way her hair flowed over her shoulders when she took out the braids she put in it everyday, the light flush that would mark her cheeks when she laughed too hard, or the touch of her soft hands that seemed to stay in its delicate state regardless of the hard work she did.

Interlocking their hands, Aegon refocused his sight on the current situation at hand and started back to the castle slowly making their way back to where one of the Maesters under Grand Maester Mellos could help.

“I do hope you know where we are going, ñuha jorrāelagon. I would hate for us to be lost so late in the evening.”

“Of course, I know where we are going. It’s just a lovely evening to take a slow stroll towards that way, Aegon.” A bright grin filled the lines of her face at her prince’s remark. “And don’t think I won’t figure out what you have been saying to me in High Valyrian. One day, I’ll figure it out.”

In that moment, Aegon was convinced and determined that his amazingly beautiful handmaid would be the only one for him — in life and in death.

taglist

@shesjustanothergeek

@starkillerrr

@fan-goddess

@hnslchw

@imsolence

@audigay

@neenieweenie

@whodis-26

#aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii fanfic #hotd fanfic #fanfic #house of the dragon x reader #handmaid! reader #aegon the second #hotd aegon #reader #soft boi #house of the dragon #hotd x reader

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leiatalon · 25 days

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Ink and Intrigue: Romantasy IF (WIP)

The title for my upcoming interactive fiction game with Heart's Choice is official: Ink and Intrigue!

Sail to a lush island of warrior-mages where dragon runes grant immortality and love runs deep. When mystery tempts, how do you answer?

Ink an Intrigue is a standalone Heart’s Choice IF fantasy WIP set in the same world as my recent game, Their Majesties' Pleasure.

Play the three-chapter demo of Ink and Intrigue on Dashingdon.

Plunge into a world where magic calls the passion in your soul. Join a clan of immortal warrior-mages and choose your kindred: a powerful dragon, a shapeshifting griffin, or a blue-lightning phoenix.

As you train to become a warrior-mage, do you romance or befriend a tattoo artist, a feisty initiate, a playful sage, or a maverick with an unfulfilled quest?

You’ve been a spy for the kingdom of Minare since you were ten, when the king deemed you too clever and sent you off for training. Now a seasoned spy, you’re sent to infiltrate the Kitherin warrior-mages, whose tattoos give them supernatural abilities and whose blood rites bond them to powerful creatures from another world.

When the call of the Kitherin sounds in your soul, what paths will you take as an initiate?

Shop from the finest market in the nine seas, surf azure waves, and dance at a full moon celebration where you might indulge in magical elixirs and intimate moments. Get dragon rune tattoos and learn to wield their power, show your prowess on the sparring field, and soar in the skies of the otherworld. Arrange a marriage alliance, meddle in the affairs of the mage council, incite a lawful rebellion, or resort to poison to get what you want.

Will you confess the clandestine role you’ve played for your king, or keep your secrets and let the past die? No matter what you’ve done, your lover will stay by your side. When you pass your initiations and bond with your kindred, you will be joining the ranks of the Kitherin warrior-mages who bring balance to the interconnected worlds.

Romance a passionate artist, a Fae-blooded sage, a sassy diva, or a master warrior.

Play as male, female, or nonbinary; gay, straight, bi; asexual; monogamous or polyamorous.

Choose high-heat or sweet options, or avoid spicy scenes entirely.

Dive through portals and explore other worlds.

Bond with a dragon, a griffin, or a phoenix.

Indulge in magic elixirs and delectable food.

Apprentice as a tattoo artist and learn about dragon runes.

Go surfing with your friends beneath a full moon and watch the sun rise over the sea.

Explore a steamy island paradise crowned with temples, magnificent gardens, and a hidden library.

Forge alliances as an emissary, gather intelligence as a spy, decide the fate of a maleficent mage, and shape the leadership of the Kitherin.

Uncover the mysteries of the Kitherin and discover the soul-deep love that awaits!

Keep an eye on this blog for updates or check out the CoG forum thread. I'm currently writing chapter seven of nine, right in the thick of the story.

WIP word count is up to 155k so far.

#heart's choice #if wip #interactive novel #amwriting #fantasy #romance #Ink and Intrigue #choice script #choice of games #magic tattoos #dragons

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twisted-tales-of-all · 6 months

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The Enemy of My Enemy

Summary: When your home port suddenly claims a ban on pirates docking there, you and your rival are forced to join forces. Characters: Kim Hongjoong + Gender Ambiguous Reader; ft. ATEEZ members Genre: Fantasy Short Series (part 1) with a bit of Angst (and possible fluff in later parts) Tropes: pirate!AU, enemies to friends (to lovers in a later part), working together against a mutual enemy Word Count: 2.9K Contains: pirate-related violence (explosions, knives, injury, blood, etc), betrayal, cursing, mention of death and loss of limbs, homoromantic undertones for certain characters (nothing explicit or confirmed), use of 'sir' as honorific without gendered undertones

A/N: support banner by @cafekitsune ; pirate divider by @firefly-graphics 🤍

You aren't new to discrimination, not by any means. However, that didn't stop you from getting blindsided as you tied your ship to its usual post at the port.

"This ship and its crew are unwelcome in this port." A stern, deep voice booms from behind you, loud enough to gather the attention of everyone nearby - all but yours, at least.

As you finish tying the knot and stand up, you feel the figure looming directly behind you. You hadn't the slightest thought that they were speaking of your wondrous Moon Raider, not after the past three years of ensuring that your crew respected the port and its customs.

Turning, you ask the man, "What ship is unwelcome, exactly?"

Although you wanted to hide your irritation, your crew noticed. The man also must've noticed since he clears his throat harshly before responding with a tone rivaling that of an automated robot.

"Any and all pirate ships have been banned from docking on our port. Leave immediately or face the consequences."

Your irritation morphs into booming laughter, "We always pay any fines you assign us. What's with the extra formality this time around?"

As you mimic his stature, you notice another officer walking past your boat's position. You watch him announce the same rehearsed statement to the captain there as he hops out to anchor his ship to its post. However, rather than offering him a chance to leave, he grabs his arm, locking him into constraints instantly. At this point, you realize the gravity of the situation, but it's all too late. As you're focused on the Sun Howler, the officer in front of you approaches and places restraints on you. You call out to your crew, reminding them to stay calm and follow all the rules.

Dragging your rival, the other officer follows behind as you walk with your officer silently. Trying to remain calm, you attempt to calculate why this may happen. Although you may not follow all the rules perfectly, everything worked out up until now. And, although you may not enjoy competing with him, you know Captain Hongjoong plays fair just like you. For the harbor police to arrest you both, there's really only one option: new port ownership. Although this was your first time back to the dock in months, you hadn't expected such a drastic change.

Reaching the prison, the officers shove you both into a cell together. Through the bars, they remove your cuffs.

"You sure we won't kill each other in here?" You joke, screaming at their backs as they leave, entirely unfazed by your comment.

"I think they'd prefer it," Hongjoong scoffs as he taps on the sheath on his hip, "Otherwise, they'd at least remove our obvious weapons."

Cursing, you sit down with your back against the cold brick wall. Fidgeting with the frayed fabric on the thigh of your pants, you wonder if the situation could get any worse.

"What'd you do, Raider?" He prompts, using your boat as your name, somewhat of a custom between you.

"Nothing here. Not in a long time. We've been gone for three months time. What of you, Howler?"

You look up to see him leaning against the opposite wall, arms crossed and one foot laid over the other. He shakes his head, and - although his hat covers his face - you can imagine how hard the cogs turn in his head to analyze the situation.

"It wasn't like this when I left either. We've only been gone about seven weeks. How'd something happen so quickly?"

After a long period of silence, you hear footsteps approaching. Even simply seeing their shoes, everything clicks for you. You can tell Hongjoong understands as well, as you can sense him tense up.

"Hongjoong.Y/N. What an amazing situation for us to reunite."

The callous tone pricks at your skin, leaving goosebumps in its stead, but you refuse to give them the satisfaction of a reaction. Your cellmate, however, is far too quick to anger to stop himself. He leans against the bars as he curses at the person who once sailed the seas opposite you both.

"The fuck is going on, Wooyoung?! Why in hell's name are you standing there high and mighty while we're stuck in a damned cage in this cellar?!"

Hands up by his head, Wooyoung stifles a laugh, "Quite aggressive now, aren't we? I know we were rivals on the sea years ago, but it looks like I won out."

"Sell out. Traitor. Fucking turncoat."

This time, he allows his laugh to echo through the prison. Cockily, he steps closer to Hongjoong, leaning in just barely out of reach.

"Does it matter what I did if I won? You look pathetic, Captain."

With this comment, you interject, "This is why you never had a loyal crew, you know. Your ego got in the way and Topaz Shields lost out because of it. Such a gorgeous ship, too. So sad. How's the leg?"

Knowing he wanted to hit below the belt, you remind him of his greatest tragedy by asking about his leg. Due to his ego, he drove his ship directly into the sirens' call and barely escaped with his life. He lost his loyal-to-a-fault first mate that day two years ago, all because he couldn't stand the thought of the other two crews finding a sacred treasure before him.

"Don't you dare mention Shields, Raider. The leg was the least of my troubles, and you know that much."

"Right, right. Pardon my impertinence. How could I forget that you lost your boyfriend as well?"

Trying to hold his composure, he reminds you that San was only ever his first mate, nothing more. Despite what everyone knows to be true thanks to their actions and Wooyoung's immediate reaction to the man's untimely death, he has denied his feelings since the incident - something to hide behind to lessen his feelings of guilt for causing his death.

"Well, whatever the case, I've come here to alert you that we'll be charging you for crimes against the city through your illegal market dealings and disregard for the laws of the area."

Hearing a former pirate captain charge someone for essentially being a pirate feels laughable, but you simply ask for the price point of said charges.

"Oh, no price for this one, Y/N. You both have been sentenced to time in jail equal to that of your career length. For you, that's three years; Hongjoong, you have 4."

Quick to react once again, Hongjoong unsheaths his dagger and swings it through the bars. It cuts Wooyoung on the lower part of his cheek, but the sound is far more intimidating than the actual damage.

Bringing his hand up to his face, Wooyoung smirks as he sees his red-stained fingertips. You keep a hand on your weapon, worried he might lash out against you both, but he simply turns to walk out.

"Enjoy your years. Once you return, there will be no Sun Howler. No Moon Raider. No pirates." He doubles down with his irritating remarks by waving his hand nonchalantly as he turns the corner.

As soon as the click of his footsteps fades to silence, Hongjoong drops into a squat. He curses Wooyoung and grumbles about the ridiculous sentencing. Seeing him freak out like this makes you giggle. He's usually light and free, the shining sun amongst a hoard of disheveled and mangled captains. You share that commonality with him - you've never quite been one for abandoning health and presentation, even if that's what many people picture when imagining pirates. The crews from this port rarely saw those kinds of pirates, not when the three captains who called this place home were you, Hongjoong, and Wooyoung. So, seeing one of these captains falling apart on the floor while cursing and swinging at someone makes you wonder how quickly you could also fall apart.

Shaking your head to rid yourself of those thoughts, you break the silence, "What's the plan, Howler?"

He looks at you dumbfounded, "Plan?"

"The escape plan? Ain't no way I'm letting that one-legged chicken act all high and mighty like that. We aren't gonna sit here and accept years of punishment for things he once did with us."

Suddenly recognizing escape as an option, Hongjoong stands up straight. You see a fire burning in his eyes and tricks within his crooked smile. He twirls the dagger around carelessly as he paces in the small box of a cell. With his newfound joy, he examines the bars, the lock, and every crevice that might be used to thwart Wooyoung's scheme and escape from the prison.

"I think this calls for a good old-fashioned bust out. Unless you think you can pick the lock from in here."

You approach the bars, trying to find the perfect angle to see what you need on the lock. However, you can't find the necessary parts to allow you to pick it from awkward angles. Turning to your cellmate, you shake your head.

"Bust out it is. Not as quiet, but it gets the job done all the same." He reaches into the inner pocket of his coat and pulls out a small trinket about the size and shape of a pocketwatch, which confuses you. He must be able to read the confusion on your face, because he explains, "My first mate loves to tinker, and he's made some marvelous contraptions. Stand back at the bars and watch."

Listening to his advice, you stand flush against the metal bars, the cold bleeding through your clothing to leave your skin feeling fresh. He stands next to you, flips the gadget open and closed quickly, and tosses it to the opposite side of the cell. When it connects with the wall, you hear a clicking noise and instinctively close your eyes. In that short moment, you feel Hongjoong move from beside you to in front of you. With the cold on your back and the warmth from his body closely in front of you, you barely process the explosion. When you open your eyes, you see the captain boxing himself around you, framed by the outside light streaming in. You assume it's around midday from how strongly it enters the room, and you try to look anywhere that isn't directly at Hongjoong's face.

He clears his throat as he steps back, "Sorry. I didn't want debris flying into your chest or anything."

Noticing him fiddling with his shoulder, you quickly thank him before asking if he's injured. Although he blows it off, he refuses to turn around, so you know debris likely lodged itself into his upper back. You decide not to fight it until you reach the docks, so you simply make your way over the rubble and out into the sunlight, letting him follow behind to hide his injuries.

Despite the explosion, nobody seems interested when you walk past. The only looks passed your way feel like those typical for known pirates walking around. As you reach the docks again, your crew quickly catches sight of you and rushes off the ship. You're glad that they make it to you long before his crew can see you.

"Mingi, can you tend to him? We blew our way out of jail, and he got hit with debris. He's acting like he's fine, but drag him aboard anyway."

Hongjoong tries to argue, but Mingi ends up behind him and sees the injury. With your first mate yelling at him for hiding it, he can't help but walk onto the Moon Raider for medical help. As he passes you, you sneak a glance at his back and see the top left corner of his otherwise tan shirt torn and stained dark red already. Trying to figure out the trajectory of the rubble, you place your hand on your right shoulder and vow to find Hongjoong a new shirt as thanks for blocking it from hitting you.

After reassuring your crew that everything will be okay and joking that you may be fined for the massive hole in the prison wall, you make your way past your prized ship. Approaching Sun Howler, you receive a much colder reception. Bowing before the ship, you address the first mate.

"Quartermaster of Sun Howler, I wish to inform you that your captain is currently aboard the Moon Raider receiving medical care from my crew. He protected me during an explosion of his creation, so I took it as my role to aid him with our supplies. He will be fine, and we will send him to you once his wound is properly dressed."

As you raise your head, you notice an exceptionally pretty man standing about ten feet in front of you. He nods as you acknowledge him before thanking you for taking care of his captain. You weren't expecting someone who could shine in his own respect to be Hongjoong's right hand, but hearing him speak makes you understand exactly why he would be in such a position. A voice that rivals one of a siren, the grace in his speech patterns, and his subtly decorated uniform all suggest a royal background. You begin to wonder whether he was a runaway or kidnapped and assimilated.

"Stop gawking at Seonghwa, Raider. Don't go stealing someone else's first mate." Hongjoong struts up to you, shirtless other than the bandages circling his chest, back, and shoulder blade.

Although Seonghwa laughs at the comment and explains the situation, Hongjoong doesn't back down in his jests, pointing out Seonghwa's obvious beauty.

"Sometimes, even I swear you're a siren. Even royals don't typically look and sound as good as you. You sparkle, Hwa." He reaches the boy as he talks, placing a hand on his shoulder to emphasize his final sentence.

"Captain, stop with the flattery. A first mate is never as wonderful as the captain, and yet you forbid us from saying those types of comments towards you."

Feeling out of place in the interaction, you quietly excuse yourself and begin walking back to your ship, but Hongjoong calls after you, "Y/N, let's find a new port together."

You try not to react, but the comment makes you trip over the air by your feet. You hope that they don't notice while you continue walking, making your way to your ship to break the news to your crew that you need to find a new home base and likely won't be able to return. Some crew members are quick to show their anger towards Wooyoung, but you reassure everyone with one simple claim.

"If we've done everything we can and they still don't want us here, we shouldn't want to stay either."

You explain how there likely isn't any time for goodbyes since the police likely won't waste time chasing you down again, so you work towards setting sail immediately. Luckily, your crew instinctively filled up on supplies while you were stuck in the cell, so there isn't much left to do.

"Cap'n, there's someone requesting to talk to you. Should we allow him aboard?" A member screams across the ship.

"Who is it?"

"Captain Hongjoong of Sun Howler, sir."

"Let him board."

As your new companion faces you, you address him properly and lead him into your chambers. Motioning to the nearest chair at your desk, you drop the formalities in the privacy of the room. Dragging out another chair to sit in front of him, you ask about the plan. As he recounts the pirates and their known home ports, you deduce that the safest plan would be to sail north, up the coast to the city rivaling this one.

"Won't they shun us away?"

"Didn't you and I once shun each other away and brace this port together regardless? Or what of Wooyoung taking over this city to shun us away from here?"

Nodding in acknowledgment, Hongjoong confirms, "So, we head north? Stop at each port we come across?"

"We might end up too close if we do that. Does your crew have the supplies to sail safely for a week before finding a port? I don't want to taunt Shields too soon; I want to be ready to fight back."

Uncertain of Wooyoung's response to your escape, the captain agrees to meet again in a week's time. After the seventh sunrise, they will look for the closest port. In case of landing at different ports, you agree on a plan to find one another via smoke signals and a trail of coded notes. To stay one step ahead of potential enemies, you assign each other new aliases to use in the notes, basing the initials on the boats' names and their respective quartermasters: Sea Heist Sails and Mightly Reel Mast.

After agreeing on the specifics, you shake Hongjoong's hand and wish him luck on his journey. Leaving you with a quick show of comradery in smiling and claiming that he'll see you in a week, he heads back to the Sun Howler to untie her and set sail. Following his lead, you untie Moon Raider and instruct Mingi to head north, staying near the coastline if possible.

As you drift out of the port, you hear a commotion behind you. Eyes drawn towards the ruckus, you see Wooyoung red-faced and angrily yelling at his guards. As he flails his arms in the direction of your ship, he makes direct eye contact with you. With a smug smile on your face, you remove your hat in a mocking salute, signaling to the man that you've won this round without breaking a sweat.

Tags: @yourfatherlucifer @pyeonghongrie

#cultofdionysusnet #wonderlandnet #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop fanfiction #kpop fic #ateez #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez fanfiction #ateez fic #ateez hongjoong #pirate ateez #ateez pirate au #kim hongjoong #hongjoong scenarios #hongjoong imagines #hongjoong fic #hongjoong fanfic

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ddarker-dreams · 11 months

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Those Who Live by the Sword.

Yan Claude von Riegan x F Reader. Commissioned piece.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships and imbalanced power dynamics. Word count: 3k.

There comes a time in everyone’s life when they must test the boundaries of what they can and cannot get away with.

This has been your personal creed as of late. Though you now fight under the Leicester Alliance’s banner, the lack of a shared history with your fellow alma mater is tangible. It isn’t intentional on behalf of your comrades-in-arms, not that you can tell, but an inadvertent consequence of joining the ranks when you did.

The time in between battles and skirmishes stretches on seemingly forever. You adhere to a mundane routine: training, ensuring the integrity of your equipment, and wandering aimlessly like some specter in the night. No one troubles you and you trouble no one. You may share the same ambition, meager war rations, and thin tents that can barely keep the night’s chill at bay, yet your common ground ends there.

You thought this would be enough. Perhaps it will be, if you keep trying, so that’s what you’ve resolved yourself to do.

Sparks fly off the whetstone as you manipulate a chipped blade against it. You repeat the motion without reprieve, your muscles crying out their protests and your body heavier than the rock this stone was chiseled from. Raising the sword by the hilt, you inspect the fruits of your labor, then frown. A weapon incapable of striking down the enemy is as useless as it is potentially deadly for the wielder. And so you carry on your thankless task, seeing to the repair once more.

There’s a change in the breeze. A slight course correction that some may chalk up to nature’s design; inconsequential, unworthy of granting a second thought.

The hairs stand on the back of your neck. Firmly, you anchor yourself to the foreign soil, finding that it swallows your boot’s heels rather than spitting it back out. This wouldn’t be an ideal landscape to fight on. That’s why Claude chose to establish camp with this mire acting as a perimeter, deterring potential ambushes and conflicts without a drop of blood being spilled. It’s also why you ventured off here beneath the moon’s looming presence, not wanting to wake your fellow soldiers who often must go days without rest. If there’s anyone who deserves uninterrupted sleep, it’s them, and you eventually, when your goal has been achieved.

Unblinkingly, you study the thickets where you sense a presence to be staring back.

You hold your breath and consider your options. Vantage points, escape paths, where the terrain may prove a boon or a bane—

“Nothing dampens your senses, hm?” A feminine voice that rings familiar asks. From the verdure emerges a lone figure, whose once sky-colored hair is now a frosty mint. Your posture relaxes.

“Not if I want to live, no.”

She advances forward. Her eyes go from you to the whetstone, indiscernible in their intent.

“While being proactive is admirable, it isn’t a good idea to go off by yourself in hostile territory.”

Byleth no longer officially holds the title of professor, though she still acts the part. It’s never felt unwelcome, this inclination of hers to guide those under her command, but you’re no longer a child worrying over her next grade. You’re a cog in the machine of war. Those who steer said machine needn’t worry themselves with the specifics, so long as you can keep playing your part.

Yet for some reason, Byleth has often sought you out when you’re certain there are other, more pressing matters to attend to.

She jerks her head in the direction of the camp. “Let’s head back.”

You wipe the sweat accumulating on your brow.

“I’ll be right behind you. This shouldn’t take much longer.”

Unsurprisingly, she doesn’t appear convinced.

“... You’re upset,” she reasons. The two words come out slow, cautious. Not caring for the pitying gaze that’s being directed toward you, you return to your previous task. “I get why. Still, Claude never issues orders without reason, you know that. He sees what we don’t even know to look for.”

Byleth has undergone a metamorphosis since she first walked the cobblestone avenues of the monastery, distant from everyone and everything. Her perception extends far past the battlefield. In many ways, Claude served as a sharpening stone for her, allowing qualities that had rusted over to shine through.

“I know.”

“Do you?” She challenges. Her voice slices clean through the air, though it’s not without tenderness. “Lately, you’ve been looking to prove yourself, right? It isn’t worth overexerting yourself.”

You gulp down the rest of what’s in your waterskin. “I’m not ‘overexerting myself’, I’m just trying to do my part.”

You glance down at the offending sword that dragged you into this conversation. The condition has greatly improved since when you started. It’s your hope that the owner will live longer thanks to your handiwork. The thought makes your mouth go dry, as if you hadn’t just been chugging water.

“Don’t you think it’s strange?” You murmur. In the distance, an owl warbles its song. “We need every fighting body we can get, we’re even outsourcing to mercenaries. What reason does he have for taking me off the battlefield ‘indefinitely’?”

Byleth places her hand on your shoulder. It weighs on you heavily. “There’s no one who knows how to use what’s at their disposal better than Claude. You’ve placed your trust in him before, don’t take it back now.”

“I’m not,” you respond, a hint too fast, like you were retracting your hand after almost being burnt. “I trust him, really, I do, but— I don’t know. First, it was removing me from the vanguard, then putting me in the safest part of the formation, and now this? I’ve become just another mouth to feed. A burden.”

Whether you intended to say this much, you don’t know, but it all comes tumbling out regardless. The fatigue, stress, and confusion have been building and building to a boiling point. It was only a matter of time before you’d get scalded.

Dead silence occupies the air, thick and potent. Neither wind nor animal stirs. You have company, and still, you’ve never felt more alone.

Eventually, Byleth gives your shoulders a squeeze. You think she intends to reassure you. “There is a reason. It’s an important one, too.”

“And what would that be?”

Momentarily, the composed countenance Byleth usually maintains cracks, showing an emotion you can’t quite identify.

In the blink of an eye, it’s gone.

“I think we both know that isn’t a question for me.”

As per Byleth’s request, you’ve allowed Claude to be the sole holder of your trust.

She didn’t need to convince you with lofty words and promises. The respect she’s accumulated from you sufficed. You convinced yourself that even if you felt like a deadweight, so long as the golden banner advanced, you’d swallow down your pride and accept Claude’s decision.

This personal covenant found itself tested within a few weeks.

The tides of war are a finicky thing. Momentum can be with your cause, almost to the point you’re convinced some divine power is on your side, then it all comes to a screeching halt. One stalemate and one loss — that will be what a historian one day will write in this bloody chapter of Fódlan’s history.

The groans of the wounded and silence left in the place of those who perished form a haunting symphony.

You find yourself in the tent Claude occupies. Understandably, he’s been busy as of late, unable to hold an audience with you. Bypassing common courtesy felt like the only way to get through to him, even if this is a breach of privacy. Any other ruler could have you sentenced for life if you tried pulling this stunt, but sticking to strict tradition has never been Claude’s philosophy. You’re confident the scaffold doesn’t await.

While awaiting his return, your eyes take to wandering. To the left stands a cot, a bow, and various quivers beside it in case of a surprise attack. In the middle is a crudely outfitted table, a map of Fódlan the centerpiece, scribbled with notes that are updated every time a scout comes back. His personal belongings are few and far between.

There is a single thing that catches your attention. A leaf that doesn’t match the flora of this area — one species found in Garreg Mach Monastery and nowhere else. You know this item well, for you’re the one who gave it to him, five years prior. On the eve of the White Heron Cup, you’d pressed leaves and gave them to your fellow students, regardless of class affiliation. You wanted to ‘preserve your bonds’, or whatever the naive dream was.

Considering the current state of the country, it’d seem your wishes fell on deaf ears.

He kept something silly like this for so long…?

“Are you here to assassinate me, by any chance?”

You almost jump out of your skin at the abrupt appearance of Claude. The man you’ve been seeking out all this time certainly knows how to make an entrance. The world itself takes a secondary role when he enters, fading away into an unidentifiable blur. His presence commands attention without him doing anything. There’s this magnetic aura surrounding Claude, a quiet brilliance, dazzling as a crystal.

“Of course not,” you reply. It’s terribly tempting to fall into a trap of lighthearted banter when he’s around, so you must remain vigilant. “I was only hoping to take a few minutes of your time.”

He frowns and visibly deflates. “There isn’t any requirement saying you have to speak so formally with me. You didn’t used to.”

“Wouldn’t you say that times have changed?”

“Times have changed, yes,” Claude relents. The twinkle in his eye tells you he’s far from finished. “That doesn’t mean you have to. I’ve always appreciated your candid nature, it’s refreshing. Even more so when you enter the convoluted world of politics like I have.”

“I think breaking into your tent is rather candid.”

“That it is. So,” he pulls out a rickety chair and sits, his posture open. “Let me guess. You’re here to challenge my order for you to remain off the frontlines?”

It’s always amazed you how he goes from beating around the bush to addressing a point directly. In every discussion, whether it be subtly or overtly, he finds a way to take the reins. His boldness temporarily takes you aback. You prepared an opening statement that’d help ease into your dissent, but that slips your mind like sand through your fingers.

“I don’t want to question your judgment. It’s just… I think I’d be better utilized out on the field. I came here to help, to fight.”

“For me, correct?”

You pause, gauging if he’s joking or not. It’s difficult to tell.

“I suppose that’s a way of putting it?”

Claude leans back in his chair and folds his legs. “You did your fair share of snooping around on me back then and even now. That assassin jibe really was a potential theory of mine at one point. I wasn’t sure what to make of you. Coming from me, that’s quite the compliment.”

He steeples his fingers.

“The solution was so simple that I hadn’t considered it. Maybe you weren’t aware of it yourself, maybe you were. You found me intriguing, to the point you’d be willing to leave your country of birth behind. This level of dedication, when we’d hardly exchanged words back in our academy days… let’s just say it endeared you to me.”

Heat rises to your cheeks.

“You shouldn’t joke around about stuff like that.”

“I’m not joking,” he flashes a handsome smile. “Knowing how tenacious you are, I thought it’d be best to give proper context to my decision. I don’t want you in harm’s way. This is what I get for trying to delay this conversation until after the war. A tent is the furthest thing from a romantic backdrop, but… beggars can’t be choosers, hm?”

Endeared you to me. Don’t want you in harm’s way. Romantic backdrop.

Your legs almost go out beneath you. “W-Wait, this isn’t— it can’t be— a confession?”

He puts his hands up as if in surrender. “Ah, you caught me. Is it all starting to make sense now?”

You scrutinize him without trying to hide it in the least. He might be using the casual language that’s typical of him, but his physiognomy is serious. His lips ease into a closed-mouth smile, his eyes contain a certain gentleness, and the tone of his voice is unlike any you’ve heard him use before. A tempest of thoughts and emotions encircles you. It’s stupefying, this situation you’ve stumbled into, almost dreamlike. While you aren’t certain if you reciprocate in full, his charm is undeniable.

You’re about to explain as much to him when a realization hits.

So much emphasis has been put on this revelation that the true reason for your meeting here was almost covered, sitting elsewhere and collecting dust.

The traps he sets are tempting indeed.

“So that’s the reason,” you say, almost breathless, “I can’t just sit back and watch everyone else put their lives on the line, knowing I’m not doing the same, because of favoritism.”

Claude sighs. The oil lamp sitting atop the wooden table flickers, casting shadows over his face. Green eyes take in your discontent through thick eyelashes. The undulating shadows become one with the bags forming beneath his eyes, a testimony to the relentless pursuit of his dream. The sheer exhaustion staring back at you pokes and prods at your heart. You don’t want to add to his stress, you want to help, but this isn’t something you can concede on.

“It’s only going to get more dangerous as we advance on the capital.”

“Which is why I—”

“I won’t allow it, simple as that,” Claude cuts you off. There’s a dangerous edge to his voice he rarely ever uses with others. He wants this conversation over with, that much is evident. “Why do you think I kept that gift from you, hm? It always appealed to me, that optimism of yours, so willing to overlook what everyone else in this land and the ones beyond it fixates on. I’d look at it and remember I wasn’t the only one who aimed for something better.”

You know the expression that etches itself onto his face. That’s the look of a man willing to do anything, give everything, to obtain what he wants.

“So. You can huff, glare at me, do anything you please really, but I won’t be changing my mind. Not on this. I’d prefer not to gamble more than I care to lose, for once.”

It’s as if a spirit possesses you. Your legs stride toward him, magma flowing hot through your veins, searing you from the inside out. He remains unwavering upon your approach, silently testing to see what it is you may do next. You grasp at his collar with hands that are calloused from a lifetime of training. Your height overtakes his while he remains sitting, and yet, you feel he’s the one looking down on you from an unreachable podium.

“And what about what I want?”

“You should want to live.”

“I want to fight.”

“There are more ways to help than shedding blood.”

“Are we at a point where that’s true?”

“We will be,” Claude places the palm of his hand over your clenched fist. “Is it so bad that I want to keep you safe?”

The expression you regard him with speaks louder than words.

“Alright, alright, I expected as much. You aren’t one to be convinced by words alone, which is truly a shame, because talking is my whole thing… that leaves taking action then. Are you going to let this play out without raising a fuss, or am I going to have to get creative here?”

This enigmatic phrasing does not sit well with you. He could already foresee that you weren’t planning on hanging back now that you know the true reason for his command, further narrowing your options of retaliation. It isn’t like he’d be in a position to do anything if you were out on the field, his attention would be forced elsewhere.

Claude’s serious about this. He’d truly have you twiddling your thumbs and wallowing in idleness while you watch faces leave that you might never see again.

You try retracting your hand. He doesn’t let you.

“What exactly does ‘get creative’ mean?”

“Well, since you asked,” he closes his eyes and hums, as if in deep thought, “Posting guards to keep an eye on you, physically restricting your movements, or even sending you back to the monastery with an escort. There are plenty of options, really.”

Eyes narrowing, you dare to call his bluff. “You can’t spare the manpower it’d take to escort me back.”

“Ah, I think you’re mixing the phrases ‘can’t’ and ‘would prefer not to’. Trust me — I’d love to keep you close to keep a better eye on you — but we can’t always get what we want. If I think you’re preparing to pull a stunt that’d put your life in danger, I’ll act accordingly. That’s a promise.”

It isn’t often you’re faced with such an immovable force. His relaxed posture belies his serious intent, the discordance is further unsettling you.

Then you’re struck with an epiphany.

“If you won’t listen to me, you’ll listen to the Professor, right?” If there’s a hint of haughtiness to your tone, no one can blame you. “There’s no way she won’t think you’re overstepping your boundaries by acting like this.”

Your threat doesn’t phase him in the least. If anything, there’s a hint of amusement on his visage, as if you told him a joke in good fun. He has the decency not to laugh, but from the crinkling of the skin beneath his eyes, he might as well be.

“You’re more than welcome to try. I should warn you, though…”

Hues of piercing green bore through you.

“Half of this was her idea.”

#claude x reader #claude von reigan x reader #yandere claude x reader #fire emblem x reader #yandere fire emblem x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #commissions #my stuff

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warnersister · 5 months

Text

Star Cross’d

Jerome Valeska x Gordon’s daughter!Reader

Jerome Valeska x Reader

This couldn’t last forever. Nor could it last the remainder of the night. Your father; Jim Gordon, would find out soon enough and put a stop to all to all this nonsense.

Nonsense: the nights you’d both spent lying awake in eachother’s warm embrace, discussing all inevitable components that make up the matrix melancholy of the cogs of life. Shivering slightly under the thin covers, an early winter’s morn and nearing-replacement window panes sending an extra sharp gasp of cooling freeze, compliments of some state north of here. But the delicate gushing of blood through the fingertips that dance with solider-like coherency remind you of being alive.

Nonsense: the candy floss he had bought you the night you met, unknowing of your disliking to the sickly-sweetness of a fairground staple but you ate it regardless, noticing the dust particles falling from his wallet as he handed you the carnival delicacy: wide grin decorating a pearl-filled grin making your heart remind your head that regardless of your economical struggles recently, you truly were rich. An odd sparkle of a concoction of unintelligible senses that overwhelmed your consciousness with a haze-like hypnosis of enamour for the boy yet to receive a name.

Nonsense: having you sat in the front row; against your father’s wishes at his court hearing, eyes flickering mindlessly between you and the judge - amnesty ignoring his court-presented attorney to delicately study the breathing work of art sat behind him. Allowing his own fate to unfold if it meant he got to look at you that little while longer. His sentence to Arkham emitting a gasp from your lips, yet a sense of comfort knowing this somehow meant he wasn’t a mindless killer; he was ill. He wrestled his restraints to give you a finalising kiss to the back of your hand with a sincere tone, voice barely above a whisper as he made you vow to him to forgive him.

Nonsense: the letters stashed in the small shoe box in the bottom of your wardrobe, beneath a well-word pair of disregarded sneakers that acted as gatekeepers for some abhorrent alternation of Romeo and Juliet if Shakespeare was mentally disproportionate. The daily recorded scrawl of proclamations of love and mourning for the distance between the both of you, a somehow best yet illegible cursive getting progressively more dissipated as the page descended - adapting Lamark’s unacceptable theory as the boy evolved from a maladjustment killer to a love sick poet.

Nonsense: crying when you visited him, breaking down into a pool of tears as he appreciated your presence and worshiped your being to an alternative offspring of the Antichrist’s teaching; praying and begging for your mercy - your living self a shrine for his selfless obsession of palpitating sickness of his desire. Your small, naïve smile as you told him you understood, those countless, sleepless nights you lay away shivering in the cold and you ponder your own sanity.

Nonsense: being the first person whom he adheres to when broken out of the Asylum, climbing up a three-story dtysfunctioning drain pipe in the dead of night in the dismal rain of an autumnal Gotham oldhallow’s eve - thunder cracking as you shared a romantic desperation of the age old locking of lips, holding one another on the floor as though terrified the other would painfully disappear if they disimbedded their claws; leaving crescent shaped moon imprint on the skin.

Nonsense: having dates in the darkest hours to avoid disruption; dominating Gotham at three hands of two desperately pining adolescents; insanity of love a proclamation of their secession from the rest of world and society, a religious-like devotion to the other promised by a kiss at every goodbye and a smile at every hello.

Nonsense. The relationship between you and Jerome Valeska was utter nonsense; but the soft whisper-like kisses he leaves on the parting of your hair and down to the nape of your neck makes you alternately shiver as you allow yourself just that few more minutes of sinful indulgence.

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hpowellsmith · 8 months

Note

my brother in law and i have made our ways through all of your available cog stories (you have become a household name); i wanted to ask if there are any choice of games or other interactive fiction you recommend? i saw you answered in 2020, but wanted to see if there's any more on your radar since then!

I have a bunch of links and recommendations over here including my top ChoiceScript games ever. And I am here to recommend lots more!

Please note that I have the time and energy to play very few games and a vanishingly small number of WIPs. This only a tiny snapshot of the amazing interactive fiction out there. Do check out IFDB, sub-Q, the IF Comp and Spring Thing archives, the Narrascope and AdventureX speakers and exhibitors, and the interactive fiction tag on itch.io.

More below because there are A LOT:

Here is a big bunch of ChoiceScript games that I had a great time with!

Choice of Broadsides by Adam Strong-Morse, Heather Albano, and Dan Fabulich

Choice of Romance by Heather Albano and Adam Strong-Morse (note that it is not romantic and is not a dating sim!)

A Crown of Sorcery and Steel by Joshua LaBelle

Blood Moon by @barbwritesstuff

Deathless: the City's Thirst by Max Gladstone

The Dragon and the Djinn by @atharfi

The Eagle's Heir by Jo Graham and Amy Griswold

Fine Felines by Felicity Banks

Hollywood Visionary by Aaron Reed

Nikola Tesla: War of the Currents by Dora Klindžić

An Odyssey: Shadows of War by Natalia Theodoridou

The Play's the Thing by Jo Graham and Amy Griswold

Rent-a-Vice by Natalia Theodoridou

Siege of Treboulain by Jed Herne

Stronghold by Jo Graham and Amy Griswold

Their Majesties' Pleasure by Leia Talon

Thieves Gambit: Curse of the Black Cat by Dana Duffield

Tower Behind the Moon by Kyle Marquis

Turncoat Chronicle by @zincalloygames

Weyrwood by Isabella Shaw

Visual novels:

Analogue: A Hate Story by Christine Love

Dream Daddy by Game Grumps (writers: Vernon Shaw and Leighton Gray)

EXTREME MEATPUNKS FOREVER by Heather Flowers

Ladykiller in a Bind by Christine Love

Other IF-adjacent games with visuals that I have loved:

80 Days by inkle (writers: Jon Ingold and Meghna Jayanth)

Fallen London by Failbetter Games

Overboard! by inkle (writer: Jon Ingold)

Over the Alps by Stave Studios

Twines:

There are so many more that I've enjoyed but these were what popped into my head right now - this is one where it's essential to check out itch.io:

Anything by porpentine charity heartscape especially With Those We Love Alive and Vesp

16 Ways to Kill a Vampire at McDonalds by Abigail Corfman

Cactus Blue Motel by Astrid Dalmady

Detritus by Maz Hamilton (published as Mary Hamilton)

Faith by @kithj

Invasion by Cat Manning

Human Errors by Katherine Morayati

If I Die, Consume Me by @fiddles-ifs

Mama Possum by Kevin Snow

Nine Months Out by @nellplays

Salvage by @atharfi

Tangaroa Deep by Astrid Dalmady

To Spring Open by Yoon Ha Lee and Peter Berman (as Two-Bit Chip)

Parser games:

The Boot-Scraper by Caleb Wilson

The Compass Rose by Yoon Ha Lee (note that I didn't finish this one because I am bad at puzzles)

Galatea by Emily Short

Gun Mute by C. E. J. Pacian (as above)

Laid Off From The Synesthesia Factory by Katherine Morayati

Lime Ergot by Caleb Wilson

Midnight. Swordfight. by Chandler Groover

Take by Katherine Morayati

Games made with other tools:

Cape by Bruno Dias (Raconteur)

Honeysuckle by Cat Manning (Texture)

Prospero by Bruno Dias (Raconteur)

I play such a vanishingly small number of WIPs that it's ridiculous but I did really enjoy what I played of these two and am looking forward to more:

Body Count (@bodycountgame) by @nellplays (Twine)

Chop Shop by Becky @losergames (Twine)

Fervency (@fervency-if ) by Niko Charos (ChoiceScript)

#interactive fiction #choicescript games #twine games #indie games #visual novels

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kingsmoot · 7 months

Note

Ok, so. It's interesting and really sad to me that Tyrion - a person who has suffered sexual abuse (w Tysha, that bit where Cersei hurt him as a baby, and probably many more lesser things) - has this more complex attitude towards Sansa than most of the creepy men in her life. In that aside from consistently trying not to marry her, he also acknowledges that she's a child, a little girl, not supposed to be in this situation (considering the world of Westeros, this is... almost entirely a conclusion he came to himself, as the only other character we see thinking of a teenager this way (iirc) is Ned. Most likely the average decent people are aware of how gross pedophilia is but. You get what I mean!) He doesn't show this same attitude towards Lancel which is it's own thing but also ties into his attitude towards himself.

He's aware that she's too young for this, but the fact that he started a sexual relationship at 13 himself (alongside he desperate need to be wanted and loved, but especially wanted) makes him still... try it with her when they get married.

And the line that really hits me is, "You're a child [...] but I want you. Does that scare you, Sansa?" Which, on so many levels:

a. Gross

b. It's partially because of how Westeros sexualises kids and teens (remember Arya? The nine year old?) that he's even aware of her sexuality. She's been advertised as a sexual object by the Lannisters all day.

c. Gross, and also Tyrion is immoral as hell

d. He's never been grey in this particular direction before and that's horrible to read! Until now it's mostly been him lashing out at people (he thinks are) prejudiced against him. ADWD is coming...

e. IDK if he'd still be this sort of - we'd call it a pervert but it's not perverse in the nobility of Westeros is the horrible thing - individual if he was in a less child-eating setting, (bc that's some heavy psychological theory there) but the idea that he would, he'd just never show it, is almost more hair-raising than the more visible sliminess...

completely agree wrt tyrion's understanding of sansa as a child being unique to him. cersei and tywin both say explicitly that because she's had her first moon's blood she is a woman grown and ready to be wedded and bedded. and in general, child brides abound in westeros. it is a cultural norm to marry off girl-children. tyrion is a singular and notable exception in saying that this is wrong and he wants no part in it. tywin even expresses annoyance when he first says this because sansa is meant to be his "reward" for a job well done on the blackwater because of how her status as heir to winterfell would bolster tyrion's own inheritance as a second son.

i actually think that tyrion not showing this attitude towards lancel is a reflection of how sex in general is framed in westeros (which isn't too different from how sex is framed in real life) where it is something that can only be good for men, never bad, and is expected to be bad, painful, uncomfortable, or unwanted for women but they should be doing it anyway. i think tyrion's acceptance of lancel being crushed between the cogs of lannister sibling machination is a combination of his own traumatic sexual experience in his youth, and the culturally held belief that regardless of cersei being twice lancel's age, she is the most beautiful women in the seven kingdoms, and even if she is going to bite his head off and eat it at the end of this, he should enjoy the experience.

i also think you pointing out the fact that average people are likely aware that pedophilia is bad is a very interesting part of the series in terms of how smallfolk view the intricate depravities of their nobility. there hasn't been a lot of smallfolk perspective so far in my reread (beside arya's adventures with hotpie and gendry which lend a really good perspective but not specifically on this) but i get the sense that they aren't keen on the child marriage and dynastic incest.

i think the thing to remember is that like, we as readers can be disgusted at tyrion climbing into bed naked with sansa and telling her he wants her, because we as readers have a better perspective on this situation and haven't been raised in westeros. that's a good thing! i think that scene is definitely supposed to make us feel ill. but the important thing is that tyrion chooses not to "exercise his rights as a husband" and rape sansa in their marital bed, which is unheard of in westeros.

even cat and ned, who are like in general the golden het standard of a perfect westerosi arranged marriage, even cat describes that she was terrified of her wedding night, that she "gave her maidenhead" to a dark sullen stranger and watched him ride off to war. like it is simply not done in westeros that you would spare your wife her expected marital rape. it is what she has been preparing for all day and it is what is expected of you, her lord husband. cat even watches roslyn cry all the way through her own wedding and thinks "well of course she would be inconsolable, she must be so scared of getting raped later" (with the understanding that the crime of rape does exist in westeros and can be charged for but the definition of rape does not include the sex forced onto women and girls in their wedding beds, so cat does not think of this as rape in her mind. but i do.)

so i think in this case tyrion is grey to readers because we have the understanding that it is wrong to rape a 13 year old girl and inherit her lands and get her pregnant so that they pass into your household lineage so that the lannisters hold the west, south, and the north. but by westerosi standards he's doing some sort of baelor the blessed schtick that everyone finds annoying.

#ask tag #worlds best sippycup #tyrion tag #sansa tag

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mrfelixfischoeder · 1 month

Note

Chalypso 16. For the KISSSS MEEEEME!

16.... lazily

(set after AOTD)

The snow has stopped falling. Cal stands on the balcony of their chalet. They both still have their worst wounds bandaged, but for the most part, Olive had approved their leave and so long as they didn’t do anything strenuous (she made an odd face saying this, which Cal and Charles ignored at the time), they were free to do as they pleased. A holiday had put Charles on edge, but with enough prompting and harassment from the boys, he agreed.

Everywhere is a shit show. But the snow has returned to the world, and the weather seems to be regulating itself. Verbier is still gorgeous. Switzerland feels like the perfect getaway; no one knows them. Or if they do, no one dares speak to them. Not that they bother to leave the chalet. Charles approaches, the warmth of the fire inside radiating behind him. He stands behind her, able to hear the cogs turning in her head.

“If I’m not allowed to think, you aren’t either.” He murmurs against her ear, fingers spreading across her hips, bringing her against him. She obediently leans back onto his chest, tilting her head to look at him. The skin around his eye is a dusty green now, and the popped blood vessels are more or less cleared.

“I can think.” Cal smirks, and Charles pretends to ponder on it.

“I’m sure Pickles said specifically that ah, if we had a single logical thought, they’d come out here themselves and make us relax.” But he knows there’s no trying. Both of them are on, constantly, especially now. The world needs rebuilding. But there is nothing that says neither of them can’t relax just a little before getting their hands dirty again. Cal’s done so much – Charles has nearly given up everything and he risked the world to save it. They’d both argue to the moon and back that this holiday is for the other’s benefit. “What are you thinking about?”

“The world.” As always. Charles nods, looking out onto the landscape before them.

“It will heal.” He promises, with no real intention of proving how. They have the money to do it – and the devoted believers to help them with everything else. The world has no choice. Cal wishes Charles would say anything else: say that it can be someone else’s problem. But it’s not. It’s theirs. When she doesn’t respond, he turns her on the spot, and her hands snake around under his arms, thumbs stroking his back through the fitted turtleneck. “We have a few more days here. To do nothing. Plan nothing. We will do what we want, not what is expected of us – to work when no one has asked us to.”

“Yes, sir.” Cal jokes, and Charles smiles – not as restrained as usual – fingers sliding up and down her spine.

“I wonder though, if you might think about, just one thing…” he trails off, gazing at the lines on her face – the stress lines gained from this whole ordeal alone. The age lines that grace her, the greying of her hair he hasn’t noticed until now.

“I could try.”

“Would you be with me?” he asks, and silently reprimands himself for totally going off-piste – the rehearsed speech he had for the last four weeks totally ruined by the peering eye of his love. “To do nothing. And to do everything. For a lifetime and more.”

Cal stares, her eyebrows meeting – not in confusion. But the sudden rush of emotion that surges into her heart is almost too much. She had always thought she would be with Charles for as long as he wants her… But to be wanted for eternity?

“I don’t have to think about that answer.” She promises in barely a whisper, rising on her toes to reach him.

His own hand movements are lazy, with no true purpose. And while the lackadaisical of it all feels foreign to him, it does not feel wrong. She’s slow to put her lips to his, in absolutely no rush.

They have a million more to share.

#writing prompt #mtl oc #chalypso #charles offdensen #calypso #metalocalypse oc #charles offdensen x oc #not me realising how he will propose and how theyll get married aka they fucking ELOPE

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purecantarella · 2 years

Text

My Princess

so just a lil fic for pride month because i didnt wanna not post anything bc genuinely, its always a win when we're able to express our love openly. it's just sad that its still frowned upon by a lotta people. anyway, i hope you all enjoy!! pirate captain!moon byuli x royaly!reader disclaimer/s : not much, some blood

Your kingdom housed three types of people. You and your father, the monarchs, overseeing everything in terms of economics, civility within the premises of the land, and the needs of the people. Highest tiered people. The citizens, cogs in the inner-makings of the kingdom. Without them your father would have no one to care for or rule over.

Then there was them...the pirates.

While more often than not, they only cause mild damages to public property and are rarely around anyway, it didn't matter to you. You loathed them. You often listened to the plights of the townspeople in hopes of bettering the flourishing country your father reigned over and some pirates were on the top of their concerns.

You'd heard tales of the captain being a smooth talker and a sight to behold but you'd never had the opportunity to meet them yourself.

Until your father invited them to the palace.

"I don't understand, father. They are nothing but trouble." You reasoned while his attendants dressed him for the captain and their crew. Your father smiled warmly, dismissing those around him before he walked up to you. "It is my job to keep the peace. Coming to an amicable agreement is the only way to make sure nothing dire will occur."

He places a hand delicately on your head, stroking your hair lovingly, "You'll understand when you're queen, Y/n." You nod solemnly, before fixing the coat draped over your father's shoulders. "For now though, best foot forward...For my sake."

Now, you fully intended to be on your best behavior. But your skin crawled when one of the servants informed you and your father that the pirates have arrived at the palace step.

You and the King sat patiently in the banquet hall awaiting the arrival of your guests. It had been a while of you waiting when you leaned over to your father, boldly joking, "They've navigated oceans, you'd expect they can navigate a palace." Your father's stoic expression faltered, a small smile growing.

"Clever girl, my princess..." A silky smooth voice of a woman echoed through the grandiose room. You smoothened your posture, returning to your gaze firmly to the front of the room. In struts a pale raven-haired woman in a white, tattered shirt and a blue overcoat, hat covering her facial features. Her brown thigh-high leather boots heavily pounding on the tiled floor.

Your father arose, "It is a pleasure to meet you in the flesh captain Byul." The captain removed her hat, exposing her scared face. She offered the older man a wide smile before bowing. "Your Majesty."

'The captain is a woman' You thought quietly to yourself, your eyes lingering over the seemingly strong and rugged pirate captain. You couldn't help but observe her features, she was definitely attractive, the stories got that right at the very least.

It surprised you that she seemed incredibly sculpted compared to what you thought the pirate captain would look like. A soft clearing of the throat pulled your attention back to the woman before you. A flush coated your cheeks before your posture tensed.

A cocky smirk grew on the woman's lips. "It's an honor to be in your presence, your Majesty." The meeting is soon under way, with some crew members scowling each time your father spoke, only furthering your anger towards these pirates.

Of course, Captain Byul keeps them in line but sniggers quietly when your father begins a new talking point for peace on the land. You can't keep your eyes off her. You can't figure out if it is your distrust in the pirate or the way her dark locks sway as she moves, the way her lips look so lush, or mayhaps its the way her dark gaze falls upon you leaving your knees weak.

You shook your head, removing such sapphic thoughts from your mind. She was a woman...and a pirate at that. You couldn't let your guard down.

Later in the meeting, your father invited Captain Byul and her quartermaster, Wheein, to a ball he organized for the people to celebrate the harvest to which she happily agreed to. Before you knew it, the meeting was over and the Captain arose to bow to your father and yourself.

"Until we meet again, my lady." Byul husked making you gasp quietly, she smirked and walked away with a self-satisfied grin, her crew seemingly not as happy as she was.

Night fell quickly and the ball was soon in full swing, drinks being passed around and hearty chatter being thrown around. Usually, you'd be with the citizens, enjoying their company but you chose to sit beside your father that night.

You scowled from your place beside your father, swirling the drink you were served as you watching your father's...guest...strut about the ballroom, earning glances from other members of the court. Your blood boiled as a particular pirate captain stared and smirked at you from across the room before she continued to flirt with a flower shop keeper who giggled and pushed her shoulder playfully.

Noticing your furrowed brows, your father took your hand in his gently. You turned to face him with an affectionate yet tired smile which he returned. "Lighten up, my child. It's a party after all. Drink, eat, dance!" He said jovially, motioning for the maestro to raise the volume of the instruments. You laughed delicately before shaking your head.

Before you could get a response in, her irritatingly smooth voice caught both you and the king's attention. "Your Majesty." Captain Byul bowed dramatically, pulling her hat off her head. The scowl on your face returned as you stared at her, only making her smirk widen.

"Captain! I trust you are enjoying the pleasantries of the evening." The pirate captain nodded, looking around the well-decorated ballroom. "It has been a lovely evening, your Majesty but it does not hold a candle to the taverns." Your father chuckled softly before Byul added, "I hope to see you there one of these days."

You mustered a dry, sarcastic laugh, earning a stern look from your father. You adjusted your posture before the captain moved to turn to you, bowing to honor you. "Princess..." She offered her hand to you, awaiting your hand. You sent a harsh glare her way before your father finally intervened, "Y/n." He muttered sternly.

Reluctantly, you gave her your hand, never breaking eye contact with her. A warm feeling rushing through you as her lips made contact with the back of your hand, intense gaze falling into yours once again. It was the same gaze as the first time you'd met her earlier in the day.

You regained your composure and snatched your hand away quickly, making the captain chuckle softly, straitening her back. "I wanted to inform you personally your Majesties that the crew and I agree to your offer. On my honor, no one shall harm this kingdom and its citizens." Byul announced, the smile on her face never wavering. You sucked your teeth classlessly before retorting, "If you had any honor, captain."

Your father looked at you with a deep frown while the pirate could only laugh heartily. "You have the sharpest tongue on any lass I've come to know, my lady."

"She gets it from her mother, I apologize, Captain." Your father says offering Byul an apologetic smile. She raises her hand while shaking her head. "It is no trouble, sir. I've met many a lass who've hurt me more. But might I ask a favor in return, your Majesty?" He grins, amused, motioning for the young woman to continue.

"Might I ask your clever daughter for a dance?" Your head twisted at an astronomical level to look at the Captain who wore a wicked smile on her face before your father laughed, throwing his head back. "As you wish, Captain Byul. So long as you bring her back in one piece."

"I'd never hurt her, your Majesty."

"It's not her I'm worried about, Captain."

Byul laughs and puts her hand out for you to take. You look to your father appalled to which he nods to the pirate. You grumble curses to yourself before heavily giving your hand to Byul.

The maestro begins instructing a waltz, and the young woman bowed, honoring you yet her eyes never left yours again. The intensity of her stare alone made you blush, and that blatant fact made her very, very happy.

She takes your waist in your arms, guiding you around the ballroom. Elegantly twirling you around as you wore an indecipherable expression. Finally breaking the silence, Byul whispered, "You know you don't have to worry about my presence, Y—"

You threw daggers her way, "Princess Y/n to you, Captain."

She smiled charmingly again before tilting her head, silently conceding the argument. "My princess." She teasingly retorted making you roll your eyes. "You don't have to worry about us anymore. I assure you myself that I will not let any harm come to you and your people."

Your brows soften a little before you breath out a sigh. "If you do anything to hurt my people or my father, I will sink your boat myself." Abruptly, she dips you and her face is mere centimetres away from yours, making your breath hitch.

She lifts you up, her gaze flicking from your eyes to your lips, the grin on her face melted away, in its place was a stern expression, making your heart leap out of your chest. "I promise, my princess."

You clear your throat and flash her a nervous smile, "Good. Thank you, Captain." She nods while chuckling. "It's no trouble, my lady."

It was a surprise to nobody but you when Captain Byul began sending you missives and escorting you around town when she could. It was very obvious that there was incredibly strong connection began to form from the night of the ball.

While some elders and court members scoffed and said it was a sign of a curse entering the town when the pirates did, your father didn't really care all too much. Which silenced the voices of the disapproving townsfolk.

One day, you walked around the town, listening to the gripes of the townspeople to report to your father. A young baker in particular who say that other pirates have become more rowdy around the shops in spite of their captain's warnings. As you listened to the young man's story, you saw a familiar pirate walk out of the tavern. Your eyes perked up until you saw how distraught she seemed. You tilt your head to the side, excusing yourself from the young man you were speaking with.

You follow the pirate captain until you are near the entrance of the palace, right at the last house in the town. There you see Byul nibbling on the pad of her finger, looking out to the ocean. You shoved her shoulder gently making her turn and look at you, eyes sharp and prepared to fight.

"Calm yourself, Captain." Upon hearing your voice and seeing your face, her expression morphed into a more playful one. "My Princess." She took your hand and lay a quick kiss on the back of it. You smiled before attempting to pull your hand back to no avail as her touch lingered longer than usual. Your pulse hammered when she did before she chuckled to herself and released you. "To what do I owe the pleasure, my lady?"

"I was doing my rounds and well..." You trailed of before the captain cocked her head curiously. "...You seem troubled, captain. What seems to be the matter?" You ask cautiously to not offend or throw the young woman off.

She looks around cautiously and motioned you closer. "You see my princess..." You couldn't help the smile on your face when you heard the pet name. It started off as irritating but it has steadily grown on you. Byul notices your little smile and swoons briefly before continuing. "I've heard wind of some of my crew being unhappy with the union we've agreed on with your father..."

You both stare at each other for a moment before she finishes, "A mutiny may come to pass. And I fear for your safety." Again, she raises her head to look at you. Eyes smoldering and expression worrisome.

"Why me?" You ask confused, sure you were the only one in the line of succession but your father could always assign someone new. Byul's eyes downcast. "They know how important you are to your father, to the town..." She trails off before she reaches for your hand discreetly, "...to me."

You bit your lip before tightening your grip around the pirate's hand. "I'll be fine captain, no one will get past the guarded keep of the palace. I can assure you that much."

Rather carelessly, and in your own panic, you lean up and place your lips delicately over Byul's porcelain skin before placing a hand on her chest. The pirate's lips upturn into a wide and uncontrollable smile making you giggle before turning a heel and returning to the palace.

As you walk away, in spite of Byul's shock and butterflies, she notices one of her crew members hanging around nearby. She bites her tongue, waiting for you to be safely behind the castle gate, her hand never leaving her sword's hilt. Finally, the gates open then close upon your entering. The captain's eyes flick to where her crew member once stood to see he'd disappeared.

"That can't be good..." She mutters to herself before rushing to her ship to rally her quartermaster to see ensure you and the King's safety.

You decided to take a stroll in the gardens, think about the state of the kingdom and your increasingly unavoidable feelings for the Captain. She was kind, gentle, intelligent, and so much fun to be around. It may have crossed your mind what it would feel like to have her lips on yours but you didn't want to disappoint your father by not providing an heir, leaving the kingdom at risk of colonisation.

You simply wanted what was best for the people. In your deep thought, you didn't hear the sound of a body colliding with the ground. You look up to the sky, the very tip of Byul's pirate ship waving in the distance. Which you found odd, they weren't meant to sail until next week.

"Y/n!" Captain Byul's voice made your head turn instantly, only to see a silver blade coming your way. The pirate captain drew her own blade, narrowly saving you from getting cut. Her crew member sneered at Byul before she shoved the man onto the ground. He drops his sword and grits his teeth before the woman steps on his chest. She bore her sword in his face with a stoic expression. "Give me one reason not to kill you." Her voice was chilling.

The man is gobsmacked and sputters out incoherently. She sneers before sheathing her sword again, lifting her foot to release him. "Get out of my sight." He pushes himself off the ground before Byul turns around to make sure you were okay.

She holds your face delicately, hair a little disheveled likely from the run there. Her quartermaster following right behind. "The traitors have been rounded up Captain."

Byul nodded, not letting her eye stray from you. "Round them on the ship, we put them to trial in the morning." She said quickly before Wheein nodded and left you two alone, not before quipping, "And I am unharmed as well by the way, Byuli. Thanks for asking."

It wasn't long until you two were alone. "I didn't think they'd attack today. My humblest apologize, my princess." There it was again, and it made the butterflies in your stomach flutter uncontrollably before you lay your forehead on hers, nuzzling your nose against Byul's. "It wasn't your fault, Byul."

"That's the first time you've ever said my name, Princess..." She noted, the brightness on her face growing tenfold.

The moment would have lasted forever until she heard it. The familiar cocking of a gun. Byul's eyes shot open and immediately she turned to see the man she'd just faced off with. "Traitorous, princess loving bitch!"

She moved quickly, the bullet grazing her shoulder, making her grunt in pain before she drew her sword and bolted forward. "Graaah!"

Byul grunted before the metal clanged together, in her haste though she was unable to create enough momentum to overpower him, giving him the upper hand. He stood over Byul, swinging his sword to meet her leg making her howl in pain.

She drops her blade before the now-ex crewmate kicks it foolishly in your direction. The shock you felt immediately wears off as you pick up the sword and look at the distracted man. Flinching as his fist collided with the young woman's cheek harshly. "I always knew you'd be too weak to be captain. Too naive. Too fucking lustful."

You carelessly thrust the blade forward, breaking the skin of the man's arm. He falls to the side, wailing and cursing at you. "You sapphic, evil, bitch! You will not get away with this!"

"Just did." You retort before pulling Byul onto your shoulder and drag her into the gardener's shed for safety. You prop her up against the wall before barricading the both of you to ensure both your safety. You pant and attempt to center yourself before you remember that Byul is injured.

You hastily look around for a clean rag which to your luck there was one. She grunts as you press the bleeding wound with a cloth hastily and rather indelicately. "Maybe be a little gentler with that, I just got slashed open." Byul jokingly reminded but her jovial tone of voice shifted as she saw you stifling your sobs while tending to her wound.

"Hey, hey, hey, what're these tears, lovely?" You shook your head, wiping your tears back with the sleeve of your dress. She adjusts herself, groaning softly to which a panicked expression grows on your face. Her hand gently falls onto your cheek, stroking away the tears falling when the realization hits her. Byul's expression softens as you finally allow the tears to flow freely. "You're alright...no one's going to hurt you, princess..."

You shook your head, pulling her hat off her head before brushing Byul's hair back tenderly as you wiped some of the blood off of her forehead. You released a breathe you'd been holding. "Never put yourself at risk like that for me..."

The captain smiled and took your hand in hers, pressing her chapped lips to each knuckle, delicately stroking the back of your hand. "I would put my life on the line for you in every instance I could, my princess." You released a laugh gently while tears fell.

Your mind begged you not to do it, you were the princess, the heir to the throne. But you could no longer hold back with Byul's lips so close to yours, looking so irresistible. The distance finally dawning on the pirate captain, her pale cheeks flushed but she tried to maintain her composure.

"What's going on in that pretty little mind...?" You rolled your eyes before taking her cheeks in your hands gently as to not hurt her and pressing your lips onto hers. The taste of rum lingering on her tongue, making you smile into the kiss. You pull away to see Byul with her eyes closed, panic starts to fill you.

"Shit did I kill her?" Her eyes shot open and let out a soft gasp before bursting into fits of laughter. "I got the princess to cuss! Yeeee-agh!" You pressed the cloth over her wound down a little harder.

"You, Captain Byul, are the worst." With a dopey yet smug grin, she leans forward catching your lips between hers, it was quick but it still made your heart race unconventionally fast.

The smile grew toothier when she whispered, "And you are mine, now Princess Y/n."

i'm a little obsessed with pirates lately yall HAHAHAH im sorry but yall are gonna be on this journey with me because i want a pirate lover a lil HAHAH anyway, i hope you all enjoyed!! i hope that me thinking of moonbyul as a pirate captain was fun for you all too my lovelies HAHAH i might do a part 2 of this but we'll see, i have a shit ton pending on my list HAHAHA anyway, happy pride month everyone! i hope you all are keeping safe and i'll see you all vv soon 💖 i love you all vv much - r

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