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#it affects every ship that passes through my head

m1d-45 · 1 year

Text

connection

summary: small moments of reconnecting with your lover after some time. diluc, kaeya, kazuha, albedo, and kaveh, in that order

word count: ~1.6k

-> warnings: minor spoilers for like the names of people and things, spoilers for diluc lore/mondstat quests, lotsa fluff <3

-> gn reader (you/yours)

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me

< masterlist >

diluc

it’s not uncommon for you to slip behind the counter at the angel’s share, whether to help restock or to collect dirty glasses, and tonight is no different.

you’re standing behind him, arms wrapped tightly around his waist, him continuing to make and mix drinks for customers. he was a bit surprised when you first showed up, only mumbling a “hello” into the back of his shirt as explanation.

but he was used to your antics, especially after yesterday. the darknight hero had a rather rough run-in the night before, outmatched against a pyro abyss mage. you could see the bandages under his sleeves, and though he’d apologized and promised not to pick fights he couldn’t win, it had still scared you. badly.

one of his hands tapped yours. “dear, could you get me some butterfly dust?”

you turned, one hand staying around him while the other picked through the jars on the back shelf. finding the one marked with a butterfly, you passed it to him, earning yourself a “thank you, darling.”

you hummed in response and he smiled, hand lingering over yours for a moment. he hated worrying you, don’t get him wrong, and he genuinely was sorry, but this… was nice.

maybe in the future he’ll be able to ask you for affection without turning red. just give him some time, okay?

kaeya

many people knock on kaeya’s door throughout the day, most bringing some sort of work. “here’s my report for the recent mission,” “jean needs your signature on this,” “you should take a break, you haven’t left your office in 11 hours.”

please. if he wanted to leave, he would have. he’s trying to catch up on work, for once, leave him be.

when someone knocks at his door again, he calls for them to come in, looking up from his report. he’s expecting another knight, maybe noelle, but this is far sweeter.

he smiles as you come in, pushing away from his desk and holding out an arm for you. “to what do i owe this lovely surprise?”

he pulls you in when you approach, resting his head on your stomach while your hands go automatically to his hair. “just wanted to see you,” you say, and just the sound of your voice eases some of his irritation at his paperwork.

he hummed, relaxing. “i was just thinking about you, you know.”

“really?”

“mhm. thinking about how nice it would be for my beautiful lover to visit me at work, saving me from the endless piles of reports…”

“…you can just leave, kaeya.”

he laughed. “don’t tempt me.”

kazuha

kazuha climbed down from the crow’s nest as the alcor came to port, having already found you in the crowd waiting on the docks. he grabbed his bag (already packed the day before) and jumped over the side of the ship, a burst of anemo ensuring he landed safely. he wove through the crowd easily, all of the workers familiar with him and your routine every time he came back.

you were leaning on a stack of crates, pushing off them once you saw him. kazuha swept you into a hug, holding you tightly against him. this past voyage was longer than usual, the fleet getting caught in inazuma due to some mix-up of shipments, and the break in routine had made the both of you antsy.

“i missed you,” you mumbled, and he squeezed you once before pulling away, just enough to press a kiss to your cheek.

“i missed you to, my love.” then, after a moment, “i apologize for the delay.”

“it’s not your fault.”

“true, but i still feel bad leaving you here all on your own.” he gave you another kiss, taking your hand in his when he stepped away properly. “how about i make it up to you? i’ve brought you some rather interesting things from inazuma…”

you smile, and he feels his heart lift when you agree.

“then it’s a date.”

albedo

“‘bedo?”

albedo turned his head slightly to show he was listening, his eyes still trained on the glasswork he was cleaning. “yes?”

“how much longer will you be? it’s late.”

a smile flickered across his face, and he moved the beaker in his hand to the drying rack, picking up another. “just a few more, my flower.”

“you said that ten minutes ago.”

did he? “my apologies, then, but i do need all of these clean by tomorrow, and it’s best if they dry overnight.”

“…but i miss you.”

that got a laugh from him, and he rinsed out an erlenmeyer. “i’m right here, dear.”

“but you’re not here.”

he smiled, moving the flask to the rack as well. “i will be in just a moment. you have my word.”

he was well used to your theatrics and knew you weren’t serious. though he did feel regret at making you wait and keeping you awake, he knew you didn’t hold it against him. unusual hours and more than slightly complicated schedules were part of his job, and he was grateful that you had accepted this as part of him.

he finished the last of his cleaning quickly, washing his hands of the soap and finally beginning to ready for bed. he’d already changed out of his uniform earlier, so it was a quick affair of removing his boots and socks and slipping beneath the sheets.

the two of you found the other easily, his head nestled in your collar as you pulled the tie from his hair.

“thank you,” he murmured, feeling the tension of the day slipping away under the feeling of your hands in his hair. you undid his braids, carefully unravelling the minor knots throughout.

“of course,” you reply, as if it’s the easiest thing in the world. as if it’s easy to be with him despite his expeditions and strange hours, as if it’s easy to accept him in your bed and arms despite his past. as if it’s easy to love him.

and maybe for you, it was easy. but for him, it was a difficult truth, and he fell asleep every day grateful for it.

every day, just as this one.

kaveh

kaveh ran a hand over his hair, glaring down at his troublesome blueprint in irritation. something was wrong, something was missing from somewhere, but he couldn’t pin down what. it likely had something to do with the late night hour, but he was determined to figure out what it was before he went to bed. he would leave the actual drawing to tomorrow, but there was no way he would be able to sleep like this. it would bother him too much, any rest he had wouldn’t be fulfilling, his schedule could take the hit he just needed to find whatever stray detail was putting him off.

there was a knock at his door and it took him a bit too long to register it, only looking up from his paper when the door already opened. he prepared himself for the regular snark of alhaitham, but was met with the softness of a different touch instead.

you reached and lowered the light from his lamp, brushing some of his hair from his face. “kaveh, what are you doing awake? it’s late.”

he leaned into your hand, still looking over the paper in the dimmed light. “another detail is giving me trouble.” he waved over the front face of the building, searching the windows and arches for what was troubling him. “it’s off, and i don’t know why.”

“hm?” you moved, propping a hand on the table and leaning your head on his. “what do you mean?”

“it’s wrong. i can’t tell if it’s the symmetry or the size of the door or.. or…” he sighed, and you stayed silent, looking over the paper.

“is it the frame?”

“no, i checked that twice before.”

“hm… the windows?”

that was possible… but even when he checked the measurements again, or even covered them up entirely, the building was still wrong. “no…”

“thought it would be, they looked off.”

he shook his head, careful not to bump you too much. “this design looks more asymmetric than it is, but it complements the arch of the roof well, far better than a simple rectangle or square would. not to mention sumeru rarely has such sharp shapes to begin with…”

“interesting… and the front steps?”

“well curved steps wouldn’t be practical, love, that would be a hazard-“

“kaveh. the steps. are they even?”

“huh?” he had put a hand over the bottom of the drawing before he even knew what he was doing, covering the steps. to his surprise, the rest of it looked far better without them, despite the fact that the front steps were probably one of the most embarrassing things for him to manage to mess up. “oh… thanks.”

you laughed, kissing the top of his head as you prepared to leave, and he grabbed at your hand, clumsily making note of the steps with the other. “w-wait, i’ll go with you.”

“about time.”

he didn’t bother replying, knowing you were right. he turned out the light and kicked off his shoes, following you to bed eagerly.

it was late, and his exhaustion hit him all at once, asleep practically the moment his head hit the pillow. you smiled and pulled the clips from his hair, giving him another quick kiss before curling up in bed beside him.

yes, sunrise was in only about two hours, but you had the day off tomorrow. you would be fine, and so would he.

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nytb · 1 year

Text

From The Sidelines

Click Here first <3

Betrayal - in Y/N's eyes, it was the perfect way to get back at the woman she once loved. Alexia Putellas was no longer that person, instead; when Y/N laid eyes on the midfielder she only felt the excruciating pain of her old wounds ripping open again, bringing all the painful memories of that day to the surface.

Crashing out of the Champions League - Eintracht Frankfurt was torn to pieces by an on form Chelsea. Facing such a team when Y/N lacked creativity, focus and love for the game was detrimental for the Germans.

A game where they couldn't string more than three passes together, where their opponent could read them like a book, a team without passion, without ideas.

On the other side of Europe, things didn't look that different. Whatever had happened behind closed doors had affected the Fc Barcelona locker-room. For the first time in a while, the Spanish giants looked defeated, but the results didn't reflect that; they were completely contradictory to how the team looked. Thrashing teams in the league, dominating in European competitions, ruthless while on International breaks.

Whatever was wrong, it was clear that it happened strictly in the locker room; it was internal.

The Barcelona captain had quickly realized who was keeping their star defender occupied - the marks on Mapi's back - the obvious imprints where Y/N's nails had sunk into the defenders back, hickeys decorating her skin. It was Y/N's work and Alexia knew it.

Privately, the midfielder tried to make amends, she tried to win Y/N's love back. From the other end, she received false hope. The Frankfurt star was dangling her love in front of Putella's eyes, making it seem like she had a chance, the possibility of a do-over.

The Catalonian's rage was finally broken free at Y/N's latest masterpiece - scratches from the top of the defender's back, running through her tattoos, down to her hips. After all her groveling, Y/N's response was sending Alexia her best friend back, marked with scars that she once wore proudly.

"How could you?" Putellas hadn't even waited for everybody to scram out of the dressing room. Sitting by her locker, Mapi knew of the storm that was approaching; after all, she had accepted to back down. The defender was supposed to have stopped whatever her situation-ship with Y/N was.

But who would turn that Catalonian goddess down? A crazy person and Mapi? she could be a lot of things, but crazy wasn't one of them.

"You were my best friend - hell, I even forgave you after you broke my sister's heart" Alexia's rage was undeniable. The locker room? Quiet, silent even. Nobody dared to stop their captain's wrath.

"Get over it" the defender stood up for herself "Trying to win Y/N over with mere flowers - after you cheated?" Mapi was now mocking her captain, the whole dressing room shocked - in their minds, their captain had waved the white flag, given up, surrendered.

In her little corner, Patri felt guilty. She knew all along - she had the power to stop Y/N's heartbreak - but she was too late. Patri had failed her sister. A person that had thrown herself head first to the wolves to save them. Spanish football owed Y/N and they knew it.

Weeks of sly remarks, rumors and Y/N sightings in Barcelona. The Frankfurt star kept her routine trips to the land of the sun; her beloved Barcelona. Every time, besides a blonde defender. Cute little picnic dates, impromptu lunches all over town, late night strolls with the ocean's breeze.

Regardless of how it seemed, Mapi wasn't stupid. She knew that her cute little 'love story' with Y/N was only a way for the Catalonian to get back at Alexia. Regardless, she relinquished Y/N's presence, the Spaniard sank her fangs in the Frankfurt star. In a way, she tried to persuade Y/N into something more serious, real. Leon had fallen for Y/N, who could blame her? Other than Alexia of course.

Y/N had her way to keep people's eyes on her. Their undivided attention. She was that person in a club, the one that would dance with everybody, the one that built tension between herself and her prey - what never came? Release.

An innocent hickey here, a persuading bite there; Y/N was more of a tease than anything. Her body was never satisfied with just one prey on the dance floor, she always wanted more - she needed everyone to desire her - and every time, she managed it. But, at the end of the night, none of them would walk away with Y/N's hand. Only the person she truly loved was able to do that.

Putellas had lost a goddess - the woman everybody dreamed of. Loyal to a fault, the one everybody desired and only one person could have.

Mapi wasn't oblivious of that, for a time, she doubted Y/N's abilities. That was until the defender brought the possibility of a relationship up. Y/N made it an automatic response to that topic: sex. Even Leon could no longer doubt the effectiveness of Y/N's compulsion - it worked every single time.

For the rest of the season, Alexia kept to herself. She finally gave up on Y/N, not really, but at least now; she no longer graveled to get Y/N's attention. Setting their differences aside, the locker room did the same thing.

Swallowing their regret, pride and victories; they were now in the most crucial part of their season and the team couldn't afford to drop their focus.

Barcelona's form soon returned. Chemistry that was only seen when they had lifted their first European Trophy and now, they were looking for their second in Eindhoven.

"We are here to win it" the captain declared "I get that there is a lot of personal drama going around, but I hope that we can keep it in a box, leave it all here, as we have done it before" She knew that in some ways the team blamed her for Y/N's heartbreak, but at least they still had a chance to get Y/N back. That dream hadn't died yet.

After all, Eindhoven was a magical place, a place where the famous 'teoría del 2' was fulfilled. A place where dreams could come true. Fc Barcelona came out victorious, facing a worthy opponent; Wolfsburg.

It was poetic for Spanish Football, a way to avenge Y/N's sacrifice, beating the Germans.

Lifting their second European Trophy, Y/N celebrated alongside the reigning champions. Singing, dancing to the culé's chants, Y/N wore their shirt with Maria Leon's name spread across the back.

Now, culés all over the world expected - desired - their star's return.

#woso imagines #woso imagine #woso fic #woso fanfics #woso #fc barcelona femeni woso #fc barcelona woso #fc barcelona x reader #fc barcelona imagine #fc barcelona femeni #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #mapi leon woso #mapi leon imagine #mapi leon x reader #alexia putellas woso

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queenimmadolla · 9 months

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“Your my best friend” Fluff and romance with Eddie?

love this!

“You’re my best friend, Eddie. Of course I want to talk to you, be around you. Things are just…different now. It’s not just you and me anymore.”

Eddie froze mid-pace, hands placed on his lower back as he stared at you. You were sitting on a log, on his jacket because he knew you hated getting your clothes dirty–you hadn’t even asked before he was spreading it down for you when you’d arrived at the secluded location half an hour ago.

You were right, he knew it. Things were different. Had been different. Because you two weren’t just best friends. Not since his second failed year as a senior. That had been the year he’d fully realized his attraction to you and how it went far beyond just physical interest. Now, you had this bullshit ships passing in the night thing going on.

Eddie Munson was in love with you. And he knew you had feelings for him, too.

That scared the living shit out of him. So, he did what he did best.

He ran.

It should’ve been you he took to prom, but it was Carly Sorenson at his side that night– giving Zeke Evans the chance to have you pressed against him. And then it should’ve been you he was crooning love songs to on Valentine’s Day the following year, but it had been Maggie Walthers on the other end of all that affection since Zeke Evans was continuously surprising you with obnoxiously cute gifts at every damn corner. This year…two months ago, it was Chrissy Cunningham pressing a kiss to his cheek as they both ended their relationship because their hearts belonged to people who weren’t each other.

And it was still Zeke Evans who was trying to reconcile with you now that your on-and-off relationship was indeed off.

Eddie knew you were considering it, that's why you’d been so distant with him, making it nearly impossible for him to confess, even if he could find the words and bravery to do so.

He’d managed to get you down to Lover’s Lake and brought up your avoidance, but apparently you hadn’t been avoiding him. You just hadn’t been looking for him like you always did when you were single. Which made him panic, because he knew you went looking for him to try and tell him how you felt and he always had shitty timing so he was with someone else. But you hadn’t this time.

You hadn’t gone looking for him. You didn’t want him anymore. He fucked everything up by waiting this long and Zeke would forever have the honor of being your person.

Eddie tried not to wince, his smile appearing more defeated than bitter because despite the gaping hole sensation spreading from his stomach to his chest–he could live with the heartbreak if he knew you were happy, and that he’d always have his best friend.

“It’s not, huh?” The tip of his battered Reeboks met a rock, kicking it across the water. Well, that was far-fetched, stupid thing didn’t even skip. Just sank with an unimpressive plomp. Like Eddie.

He glanced up at you through long lashes, only a little wet from a moment of weakness on the drive up to meet you. You shook your head, lips twisted into a mournful smile of your own as you fiddled with your fingers.

“Didn’t think so.” He mumbled, more to himself as he sat down on the log, right next to you. You bumped your shoulder to his and he did the same, huffing as a speckle of joy returned to him, “You wanna know a secret?”

You lifted your chin.

“You’re my best friend, too.”

Eddie let out an inhuman sound as you playfully whacked his chest.

“That’s not a secret, Eddie! There is literally not a singular soul in town who doesn’t know that. Even the Mayor knows!”

Eddie let out a content sigh as he thought back to that boring town hall meeting he’d been forced to attend for extra credit–and he hadn’t been able to lie about going since every participant had to check in with O’Donnell, who had also been in attendance. Like the angel you were, you’d offered to go with him. But Eddie had decided he’d much rather appreciate you in a setting that wasn’t that one, so he stood up, shrieked something about communism, grabbed your hand and ran the hell out of there.

And he still got his extra credit ‘cause he showed up, O’Donnell hadn’t wanted to give it to him but you’d successfully argued for him.

With the way Eddie made sure to take you with him when he fled, he was positive the Mayor thought the two of you were more than friends. If only.

“That’s pretty legendary, I’m happy for us.” He commented, elbow resting on his knees and chin resting on his fist.

You laughed into his shoulder and the misery faded entirely from Eddie, how could he be even a little bit sad with you nuzzling into him like that? The depression could wait until he got home.

“I’m happy for us, too.” You agreed, placing your hands on either side of you and straightening, leaving Eddie feeling oh so suddenly cold, and with something else.

Your hand was right there, palm down on his jacket. All he had to do was be brave enough to hold it. Unlike all the other times he’d held your hand–always leading you somewhere, making sure you didn’t get lost in a crowd, helping you up and helping you down–this one would have no real purpose other than to simply hold your hand.

No more platonic meanings. Purely romantic.

You’d immediately know what he was trying to say. Trying to tell you.

And you could easily crush him, crush his heart, crush his soul by rightfully prying your hand away and leaving him behind, broken for daring to defy the What If.

It’s what he’d been scared of all these years, what kept him running and from asking you to be his. Everything would change in an instant, be it for better or for worse.

Eddie didn’t have to think twice, he could put himself back together, tape the shards of himself in place but he couldn’t let you go again.

He placed his palm over your much smaller one.

You turned your hand over, palm up, so you could intertwine your fingers and he squeezed.

You were wrong, you both knew it.

It was just you and Eddie.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson fluff #lovesick!eddie muncon #eddie munson blurbs #pinning!eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson drabble

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blossomslovely · 9 months

Text

Isekai Yandere Strawhats

Masterlist

Synopsis: You can read them together or separately, I f*cked up the last part but I tried connecting some dots without fully disclosing everything bc I am not yet sure if I want to continue expanding on this story. If you’d like this to possibly become a series let me know !

You had been startled awake gasping for air and completely drenched in a cold sweat. It was the middle of the night, the ship was dark but the light of the moon shone through the porthole allowing your sight to adjust. You sighed to yourself, memories of your family. What a cruel thing the mind can be, you thought.

You were restless and couldn’t sleep any longer, dreaming of distant voices like you weren’t here on purpose was hilarious in a sinister way. You wanted to believe the person you had become was just a simple state of mind so that you wouldn’t go crazy. But you knew better, you knew to everyone else you’d be considered a lunatic.

You’d argue with yourself constantly, in every crevice of your brain, while also being the mediator wanting everything to stop. This was a good life you were living, free of idiotic way of life you lived previously. When you woke from dreams like this, for a minute or two everything was clear.

You could remember how you got here, remember why you left in the first place. And best of all, you remembered why you were so scared of these people in the first place.

You chuckled to yourself as you got out of bed, your stomach now empty and gurgling for a snack. Making your way to the kitchen you saw the light in the crows nest and a shadow passing through the fish tank. Of course he would be up, you knew his schedule.

You wanted to go up and ask if he’d join your for a drink and a snack but, just as you reach the second flight of stairs you stopped yourself. Alone time when you were awake was needed.

Of course there would be times where you were alone during the day but never completely alone. The constant fake concern or the random outburst to grasp your attention when your eyes went blank always reminded you, you weren’t alone.

You opened the locks on the fridge, rummaging around for alcohol, one of the greatest things about this world was how strong it was in both flavor and effect. Back home you were too young to drink but here you could have anything you desired.

That’s what you liked to tell yourself now. Whenever the itch got too overwhelming and started becoming a visible panic attack you knew just how to calm yourself. Deep breaths, look at just one thing, and clear your mind of negativity. It worked but sake worked even better.

You drank too glasses in the darkness, the affect making itself known when you stood up to bring the rest of the bottle up the stairs. Giggling when you almost fell face first only to be caught in the strong arms of the swordsman.

He looked pretty tonight, the moon was a friend who liked to light up the features of his face you wouldn’t notice during the day. Making him out to be a knight in shining celestial armor. You smiled at him and he gave you a small smile back guiding you to the crows nest.

You told him about your dream. He listened quietly sipping directly from the bottle only stopping to pour you some.

“ Zoro.. is anyone listening?” You asked eyes scouting the perimeter of the room. He shook his head and urged you to continue.

“ My dreams remind me that I’m not insane— well that I’m not completely insane. I want to say they ground me as much as they hurt me.”

The tears welled up in your eyes, threatening to fall in giant droplets of sorrow. He stopped drinking to give you his full attention as you went more in detail about the things you’ve bottle up.

You were like a scroll unraveling before him, if he were bold he make a joke saying that you were the one piece they’d been searching the sea for.

He understood completely why the crew was enamored with you. The little fighting fish trapped in a tank, who could only give without take, the colors of your scales vibrant and full of life while your tail flashes trying to ward off the parasitic infection dwelling all around and within.

He finally spoke up, startling your rambling about every little topic on your mind, “ I didn’t want to interrupt but I have something interesting to tell you.”

You nod eager to listen.

“ I know we’ve been waiting a while and this since is a golden opportunity now that we’re alone. On the last island I spoke to an old man, there isn’t a name for it yet but there are other like you. Travelers.”

You threw yourself into him and held him tight. This was the break through you’ve gone through hell waiting for.

“ There have been quiet a few others, over the last few years he’s said. Some trying to be discrete and others making grand entrances, they speak how you speak, using the same slang and everything I knew they were linked to your situation.”

“ This is incredible ! I knew there were others like be but… I always thought they’d be- Zoro?”

He suddenly yanked you off of him, picking up the bottle of sake and walking to the door. Just as you were opening your mouth to speak the floor started creaking, someone else was awake.

Panic set through you.

Do they hear anything? Did they hear your excitement? Who was coming closer?

Zoro opened the door revealing Robin. How could you possibly forget the other equally dangerous night owl on the ship. She smiled at you and waltzed in sitting on a stool.

“ I didn’t know you woke up Y/N, I would’ve joined the two of you earlier.”

“ Oh yeah I didn’t really want to check for anyone but I just— I seen his shadow and I couldn’t sleep so I figured… why not.” Your nervous laugh creeped in towards the end of your sentence.

You silently damned yourself and looked over to Zoro who sat right back in his spot drinking the almost empty bottle like nothing happened.

The three of you talked about little things, souvenirs from islands, Zoro about swords he looked at, and Robin went on about a foreign scripture she has yet to completely figure out.

Zoro’s presence kept you at ease and before you knew it you fell asleep again. The rest was short and you woke in your bed by the booming voices of your crew mates. Making your way to the kitchen you were greeted continuously upon entry, the captain patting a seat between him and Zoro.

The handsome Prince handing your orange juice in a wine glass to accompany your eggs and bacon. You ate silently till Luffy started stealing off Ussop’s plate causing a ruckus on the table.

The morning came and went and you were playing card games with the boys till lunch. The excitement creeped in when you were handing your cleared plate and heading off the the crows nest once again.

Watching from the upper deck was Nami accompanied by Ussop and Chopper holding baskets of tangerines and pop green. A keen eye was needed in order to be a navigator and that eye noticed your 180 when you were around Zoro.

“ They’re close those two..”

The others agreed watching you leap up the stairs into the crows nest. It was hard to not notice when no one else really bothered the grumpy swordsman in his little sanctuary.

The woman hummed then directed her little helpers to continue picking fruit while she went to investigate. She heard your cheers and giggles as she got closer to the door, daring her to press her ear on the door.

Intently listening to you laugh about a story from your childhood she failed to notice the blonde creeping up behind her with a tray of drinks. With a hand to her chest to keep her from punching him she pulled him close to listen along with her, much to his delight of course.

Although when the cook heard the joy a familiarity being shared with the swordsman he almost barged into the room. Nami having to physically hold him back so that their cover wouldn’t be blown.

It’s almost like they forgot the swordsman can dodge knives in his sleep. Zoro alerted you the moment Nami was walking up the steps. Yes, she was as stealthy and as sly as a cat but there was more in fooling a man like him. The topic of conversation changed and you had suggested writing notes while you spoke the next time around.

The itch was back but you didn’t want to alert Zoro. He was doing his best in keeping your endeavors discreet and telling him would out more on his plate. That night you were reading and the navigator invited you to sit with her while she drew up new maps.

“ Y/N, you’re pretty close with Zoro huh.” She spoke up.

Your eyes left the pages to look at the woman gracefully creating lines and squiggles on the large lithograph. “ Yeah, I enjoy telling him stories and he just listens or laughs.” You shrugged.

She hummed and continued, “ I was heading over to you to ask if you wanted to help peal some tangerines for Sanji to make marmalade.”

“ Oh crap you should’ve asked me during lunch. I can help tomorrow if you’d like.”

She looked over to you from the corner of her eye and smiled agreeing.

“ I didn’t mean to listen in but… you seem very relaxed around him, more relaxed than with the crew.”

“ He.. he just seems to put me at ease I guess.”

“ Why aren’t you at ease with the rest of us?” She inquired tilting her head and placing the ink pen in the corner of her desk.

You quickly rebutted hoping to ease the sudden tension beginning to bubble up. She was full of questions today and you felt like you were in an interrogation room without a door. She chuckled at your stuttering, it was so cute when you were nervous. She continued her work and changed the topic to not cause you anymore visible worry.

Laying in bed that night you finally felt at peace, before your interruption earlier Zoro had told you he knew a way for you to get back home. It would take some time and you would have to get the others off your radar.

Your thoughts quickly shifted to Nami and how she approached you earlier. To a non trained eye your conversation just seemed like small talk or curiosity among friends though the threat of something more was obvious to you. You were sure she did that purposely, looking into your eye, raising and eyebrow, and giving you that sly smirk.

Just to see what type of reaction she could coerce out of you without making things too transparent. You knew eventually they would look into your newfound closeness with the swordsman. You turned to the other side of the bed where the pillow was cold and the light didn’t hit your closed eyes. Shaking the thoughts away to sleep and deal with another day tomorrow.

The ship was still lively while you were resting, everyone doing their own little tasks and routines. In the room next to the crows nest Robin was bathing, she was enjoying her peace till a small knock came from the door.

“ Robin could I come in?”

Nami opened the door and waved sitting on the edge of the tub. “ I think we should tell Luffy about Zoro and Y/N.” She said letting her fingers graze the steaming water. Robin hummed and leaned over to her, “ We should eventually of course. However, don’t you think we should also go to Zoro separately first as well? To completely assess the situation.”

Nami agreed and decided now would be the perfect time since you were asleep and he was completely alone.

She knocked twice and opened the door peaking in, “ Zoro are you busy?”. He looked up at her with a weight lifting over his shoulder and shook his head. She waltzed in sitting in the booth seat hitting her lip, the nerves of trying to get a straight answer out of him settling in.

“ I wanted to talk to you about Y/N, you’ve been pretty close yeah?”

“ I guess? They just come in and ramble while I work out.”

“ Well I hope you aren’t forgetting that the crew also wants to get close to them.”

“ What’s that supposed to mean exactly?”

He was as standoffish as always but if this wasn’t done who knew what the two of you could do. It’s not that she even wanted to question the first mate but no one else has been able to break the barrier with little Y/N… and of all people to it was the grumpy swordsman?

“ It means that whatever you’ve been promising them… isn’t going to make them..”

“ Rebel? I’m loyal to my captain, whatever ideas you’re having are wrong. They came to me because the rest of your are idiotic and overbearing.”

Nami huffed angrily at the assumption that she was overbearing and idiotic. She knew that at certain moments the entire crew would make you uncomfortable but her? She walked out slamming the door and the swordsman’s eyes hardened.

If Nami decided to personally ask him then someone more dangerous was involved.

Back in the bathroom the archeologist was humming quietly to herself as she drained the tub and let the steam dwell around her. The slam of a door from down the hall brought a smirk to her lips, Zoro had ticked Nami off and now she was going to play her part.

Robin knew from the moment you joined their journey you would be valuable. From the way the crew took a liking to you immediately and especially the way the captain would light up in your presence. Robin was extremely loyal to Luffy, she was going to do anything to ensure his happiness was preserved.

She knew you were scheming something with the swordsman. Just as she knew that the swordsman was aware of her presence whenever she’d try to lurk into the room. It’s not that she was doubting Zoro’s loyalty, but he obviously cared about you enough to even consider helping you get back home.

There were times where she questioned herself, she knew that keeping you here basically hostage was wrong. She lived her life running in fear and to keep you here against your will went against everything she stood for but… her captain was her number one priority now, and if making you cry yourself to sleep every night was the sacrifice then so be it.

The ship had finally settled and the moon was now at its peak, the boys room was filled with voices but surprisingly Luffy was quiet. Sanji took notice and eyes the swordsman from the corner of his eye. Without even looking towards him Zoro shrugged and turned the other way. He rolled his eyes and held his tongue not in the mood to argue, he was more concerned about his quiet captain who stared blankly at the wall.

Luffy wasn’t usually one to think too much about one thing for too long, so it was right to be concerned. Sanji stood tall peaking over into his cot and the boy met his gaze.

“ Something on your mind?”

A crack of a smile spring onto the captain’s face, he liked that his crew knew him so well. “ I’m just thinking of Y/N.” He sighed.

As of late you’d been running rampant through his mind. Every time he gets close you get farther and he doesn’t know how to fix it. You keep reminiscing about your old home and life, when you first got here you were ecstatic to be with him, he doesn’t know what changed.

You’d been more than happy when he welcomed you into his crew, you got along with everyone, and you fit so perfectly like his last puzzle piece. Then one day he woke up and started spewing things about wanting to leave. To leave him.

That thought angered him and he shot up from his cot startling Sanji. “ Why have the changed? We’ve been so kind. I don’t understand-”

“ They’re just homesick… we all get homesick.”

“ Yeah but it’s all the time with Y/N. She’ll laugh and play with us then started getting all sappy. It’s annoying me.”

“ Maybe it has something to do with this green moss ball sleeping underneath you— you seen how damn close they got. WAKE UP MOSS BALL!” Sanji hissed.

He kicked the swordsman’s cot waking him up and bringing the attention of the others in the room.

“ I have to watch in an hour what are you talking about in the middle of the night?”

“ How about you tell our very annoyed captain how you and Y/N have become so chummy.”

“ I don’t know why you’re all acting like this, isn’t it good that we’re friends? You guys need to evaluate your approach— and leave me alone.”

With that he fell right back to sleep the entire room thinking to themselves.

After that night the entire crew morphed into these disgustingly saccharine creatures. Catering to your every need like you were an infant who couldn’t be let out of sight for a moment.

In their minds you were their sweet Y/N and they were just helping you settle into your new home. Luffy’s annoyance spread to all the crew members, accept for you and they had a newfound determination.

Zoro decided it was better for the both of you to stop meeting too often, the outburst of Sanji let him know his efforts weren’t working. They were still hot on your tails and it was a matter of time before Luffy himself came to the two of you.

You were distraught, sitting in the kitchen eating a piece of cheesecake Sanji set out for you. You were finally so close and you had to be put on hold because for reasons Zoro wouldn’t share with you.

Enjoy ! 🍨 if you’d like a post specifically about Y/N and how she got here I’d be willing to do so, thank you for all the support.

Tag list

#one piece #isekai yandere strawhats #yandere one piece #platonic yandere one piece #one piece imagine #straw hat luffy #Isekai #straw hats x reader #platonic strawhats #zoro x reader #sanji x reader #one piece x y/n #nico robin #straw hat nami #ussop one piece #chopper

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curseofaphrodite · 2 years

Text

Three of Spades

daemon targaryen x fem!reader | deck of cards part 1/3, series masterlist

summary: you were bethroned to viserys, so naturally for daemon, you were the only complication from getting the Iron Throne.

"There she is — Y/N L/N, soon to be Targaryen."

"I'm keeping my name," you said firmly, turning to find Daemon Targaryen leaning against the side of your door.

If your initial reaction was fear, you hoped for your sake that you hid it well. The house of the dragon did not look kindly upon vulnerabilities.

Daemon whistled, seeing you for the very first time. His eyes openly passed through every inch of you, and he looked... surprised?

"You seem incredibly young for my brother."

You exhaled briefly. "I'm of age."

"Doesn't matter. Viserys is old enough to be your father."

"Should you be teaching me about morals?" you asked, trying to cut the conversation short.

"Just wanted to introduce myself. We're about to be a family soon after all," he said in High Valyrian, the language catching you off guard.

"If acquaintance is all you seek, I suggest you knock next time," you replied, hoping the words sounded natural from your tongue. Daemon seemed pleased.

"If it's all I seek? Do I sense an invitation behind those words, Y/N?" he smirked, making your jaw drop. Many had warned you of his schemes, but his charms seemed to annoy you just as much as his presence did.

"Good night, Daemon." You said his name with a cruel edge. He turned to walk away with an amused smile. Tried to, anyway. "And you will address me as Your Grace."

Maybe you pushed too far, but he turned his head slowly. "Says who?"

"The future Queen."

Then it clicked.

Daemon was smarter than the versions of him in stories. Of course, you weren't going to marry Viserys for his wealth nor his kind heart. The marriage wasn't completely forced on you either, gods knew you were fierce enough to not do anything you didn't want to. He was certain of that.

He was also certain that you wanted something he did.

The Iron Throne.

----

"gOOD morning, your Grace," Daemon said loudly when he arrived at breakfast the next day. You resisted the urge to smack him with a loaf of bread.

"I see you met my brother," Viserys said, already frowning.

"Ignore him, love," you told Viserys, pecking him on the cheeks. Daemon snorted at your display of faux affection, as if it wasn't fooling anyone. You made a mental note to deal with his shit later.

Daemon sat beside your chair, smiling - no, smirking - widely. Viserys's frown turned more confused.

"He stumbled upon my room last day," you added for good measure.

"Last night," Daemon interrupted cheekily. You glared.

"Makes no difference," you said, attacking your salad with a fork.

"Then why did you say day?"

"I wasn't—"

"Y/N." Viserys's voice was a warning. He didn't know where the conversation was going, and frankly, he didn't want to know.

Daemon provoking everyone was natural. But you, the future queen, provoking him back was unbecoming.

Be the kindest person in the castle. The royal family could use one. - your mother had said, but she didn't know a kind queen didn't survive long. Not in Westeros.

"Are you displeased?" Daemon asked, his voice a whisper. You were acutely aware of his hand resting on your thigh. "Do you want me to remedy it?"

"I'm sorry?" you hissed.

"The food," he retracted his hands, noting how you didn't seem much bothered by it. "Is it not up to your satisfaction?"

"I find it bland," you said plainly, making sure Viserys couldn't hear. "But I'll manage, thank you."

"If you're homesick, you could go home for a few days. Wedding's not for another month."

"Oh so you could order my ship to be sunk on my way back? I don't think so, my Prince."

"Do you think so little of me?"

Viserys looked at you again, the same confusion spread across his face. You also saw the slight anger in them. Quite frankly, you had enough of both Targaryens.

"Breakfast was lovely, I have some important affairs to..." you let the words hang, standing up from the chair and shuffling down to get out of the room.

You went to the garden, because it was better than your dim, elaborate room, where everything seemed more expensive than it did cozy.

You liked the cool breeze, the birds, the flowers and you were basking in everything, only to be interrupted by--

"It won't work."

"Stalking me now?" you asked, turning on your heels.

"You'll have male heirs. If Viserys dies, the kingdoms go to them."

You smiled. "Not if I kill him before he touch me."

Daemon was taken aback. "You plan to kill him after the wedding? Are you truly that idiotic?"

"If I planned something, you wouldn't know about it. It's not like you'd get the Iron Throne anyway."

"Why not?"

"I'm in the way. Me, my heirs, anything I do affects you."

"I should just take you out then."

You blinked, looking at his clothes. "You have no weapon."

He scoffed. "I meant take you out. Woo you with dinner," he stepped closer, "empty promises," his voice went to a whisper, "you'd let me ruin you for any man to come, wouldn't you?"

Your body went slack. You could feel your heart hammering in your chest. For one second, you forgot he was just trying to show he had the upper hand.

Yearning is a bitch.

"I'd rather fuck you than make you my enemy anyway," he said, stepping back. The guards could hear him, but they don't move. They aren't supposed to. Daemon just wanted them to start the rumors.

"Who says you can't be doing both?" you ask boldly, rolling your eyes. "You wouldn't be the first one."

He blew a whistle. "You sure you're marrying the right brother?"

His words are playful, his expression isn't. You turn away before he could see you were flustered. You walk off because you knew he could sense it anyway.

There goes your plan not to show vulnerabilities.

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

part 2!!

#daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x fem!reader #daemon targaryen fluff #enemies to lovers #astoria writes #hotd fanfic #imagines #daemon targaryen x you #daemon targaryen

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anemptypuddingcup · 1 year

Text

Starve; Sanji Vinsmoke.

“S-Sanji…” You whimper, your weak body unable to move. You’ve been stuck in the same spot for over a week, you were surprised that you haven’t died yet.

It’s been over a week since you’ve been kidnapped and locked up in a room. Your kidnappers never fed you, they just kept your for the bounty on your head. You were worth a lot of berries, over a million. It’s surprised you that a pretty and young pirate woman like yourself would be worth so much. Though you wished to at least be fed.

Another day passes as you sit there on the dirty floorboards of the ship, fantasizing over Sanji’s food and him. Hallucinations also caught you when you started chewing at your arm, thinking it was some delicious luscious meat. You sighed as your stomach growls and growls angrily, demanding to be fed. You felt weak, so weak that you felt your stomach began to eat at itself.

A sudden noise of ruckus outside catches your attention as you hear people falling on the floorboards of the ship. Your eyes gained their light back then you realized that the straw hat crew somehow tracked you down and came to save you. You let out a cry, a cry of desperation and pain. A cry, demanding them to open the door and let you out. “OI SANJI! I THINK SHE’S IN HERE!” You hear Luffy yell. Rushing footsteps arrives to the door and you quickly scoot back from the door to avoid being hurt.

Sanji kicks down the and see’s you, his love thinner with sunken cheeks. You both stare at each other before you eyes began to brim with tears. His face had said everything, and you didn’t want him to look at your thinner and slightly disfigured body. “S-Sanji….S-SANJI!” You cry, reaching your arms out to him. Sanji rushes to your side and catches you before you fall back into your side. “Please, don’t stress yourself o-out.” Sanji mustered, holding your body tightly. “What did they do to you…? My beautiful blossomed flower has wilted…” He snivels, holding your body tighter.

Your frail arms wrap around his body and hugs him tightly (to the best of your ability). “Please…get me out of here…” You say weakly to Sanji. Sanji nods and carries you out of the dark and dingy room. The brightness of the sun blinds you, but you were happy to finally witness daylight again.

A few days after the incident, it took a while for you to start eating normally again due to dehydration. But Sanji stayed there with you, he cooked three meals for you everyday and you would eat it. No matter what it was or how long it would take you, you ate every last bite of his food. The only problem with you was that your body had still looked thin and deformed. Everyday when you looked in the mirror you would sigh out of sadness and pinch your sides.

Sanji noticed, and he couldn’t keep his eye off of your afterwards. He would feel up in your body, telling you how beautiful your body was and how pretty you were. You would always get flustered at his words, they would always shoot right through your heart. Continuing on into the night, Sanji catered you and showered you with touches and affection. You didn’t even need the sex, just his words alone made you all warm and fuzzy.

“You look so beautiful my blossom, especially when you’re cumming on my fingers~” He cooed, his fingertips massaging that soft bundle of nerves. You arch your back, lying your head onto his shoulder. “S-Sanji- P-Please!~” You moaned, bucking your hips against his fingers. Sanji peppers kisses into your neck and shoulder, making you whimper from pleasure. “S-Sanji!~ M-M’gonna!~” You moaned loudly. Sanji hums as he begins to pump his fingers faster into you.

You moan and whimper as your gummy walls tighten around Sanji’s fingers. “S-SANJI!~” You moaned as you cream on his fingers. Sanji nuzzles into your neck and you feel his soft breaths. “Your cummin’ face was so pretty, I wanna see it again blossom.” He giggles, kissing your ear. You sigh out of relief and peck Sanji on the cheek.

“You beautiful alright blossom? Don’t you ever think otherwise.” He whispers, slowly moving one of his hands to your breast. You jolt slightly from his rough hand touching your tender breast and hold his hand. “Sanji…” You say softly, nipping at his ear. He peck your cheek and smile.

“Well, shall we continue love?”

#one piece #one piece smut #one piece sanji #vinsmoke sanji #sanjionepiece #sanji smut #sanji fluff #sanji #puddingcupfics #i see sanji as someone who could comfort you everyday #sanjiiii

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tessatales · 5 months

Text

The Sins of the Winter Soldier Chapter 1

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Notes: slow burn romance

Warnings: none really, hinted past issues with reader?

Authors note: Hey guys! If anyone has a better idea for the fic name please drop them below! Honestly pulled this title out my butt and I don’t really like it. But it’s better than ‘Bucky fic’ so at this point I can’t complain 🤷🏻‍♀️

Enjoy!

Chapter 1:

You wake up to the unnerving sound of silence.

The compound was silent.

In the year since being rescued, and the six months since you'd been moved into the avengers tower, you were pretty sure it had never been silent.

Feeling the familiar sensation of dread creeping in, you sit up, thankful for falling asleep fully clothed.

Slipping on a pair of trainers, you padded out into the empty corridors, your steps silent as you listened out for signs of life.

Biting down on the inside of your cheek as you walked, you tried your best to remember what your therapist said about dealing with panic.

"Remember Y/N, your emotions are currently directly linked to your power. Panic equals power surge"

"Good morning Y/N" Agent Peters said as she appeared from around the corner, her eyes trained on the communicator in her hands.

Relief floods your body as she approached, making you feel a little light headed.

"Morning, where is everyone?" You ask, hoping the shakiness you feel doesn't portray in your voice. Agent Peters doesn't stop, continuing on her way through the building as she speaks.

"They're all in the Pit"

The Pit?

There was only two reasons they'd all be there, and as you haven't been shipped off somewhere in the middle of the night because Hydra had found you, it will be the second option.

They've caught someone.

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

"Who do we have?" You ask breathlessly as you make your way to the front of the observation deck, only to be held back by several pairs of hands.

"Are you out of your mind Y/N? Who told you we were here?" Tony demanded through gritted teeth. The panic in his gaze obvious. Sensing you were about to get Agent Peters in trouble, you decided to be vague.

"Just some Shield Agent I passed in the corridor, I got scared when I couldn't find anyone so they told me you guys were down here" You reply sheepishly, hating having to admit as a grown adult that you were afraid. The remaining hands drop from where they held you, one or two squeezing you affectionately before doing so.

"Sorry kid, we didn't think about what it would be like for you to wake up and find no one, but this stuff is sensitive." Steve said, making his way to stand in front of you.

"Is it bad?" You ask, anxious to know whos down in containment.

"He wasn't when I knew him. But that was a long time ago now"

"You've caught the Winter Soldier?" You gasp. Steve nodded.

"Though I knew him as Bucky"

Gesturing for you to follow, Steve made his way towards the edge of the deck.

"It took the Big Guy removing his robotic arm to detain him. But we did it.” Tony said over his shoulder as he worked on the holograms in front of him.

“Found him in Siberia." Steve continued as he lent against the railings above the Pit. You hovered just a step away from it, scared of what you'd see when you peered over.

"Don't worry, he cant see you from here" Natasha said, coming to place her hand reassuringly on your shoulder. With a nod, you stepped forward, holding your breath as the Pit came into view.

The man you could see below didn't look like a deadly assassin. He didn't really look real. You'd seen the affects the serum had on people, you'd read every file you could on Steve and everyone else on the team since arriving at the compound. But this man looked different.

He stood motionless in the middle of the shielded cell, his body perfectly placed for any oncoming threat. He seemed to lean heavily to one side as if unsure how to balance himself without his metal arm, and even from this height you could see the angry red scars that wound around what remained of the metal appendage.

"He looks sad" You mutter, staring down a the Winters Soldiers profile.

"That's one way to look at it, I think he looks damn angry" Sam said, crossing his arms as he leaned over to take a look.

"You’re bitter because of the car thing" Tony commented, his eye never leaving the hologram before him.

"And you wouldn't be?" Sam countered, eyebrow raised in question. Tony didn’t reply.

"What are you going to do with him?" You ask no one in particular, barely managing to tear your eyes away to look at Steve when you get no response.

"Tony and Bruce are looking into the arm, making sure there's no trackers imbedded in it. While the Shield team are convinced that the longer he is away from Hydra, the more likely it will be for us to be able to deprogram him." Steve replied as he moved away from the edge.

You felt the surprise flood your body at the decision.

"They're not going to try to use him?" You half whisper. Steve shook his head but said nothing.

"Not like this.” Natasha answered for him, looking between you and Steve.

“Once upon a time, Bucky was one of us. Shield hope that if they can get him back to pre-programmed Bucky, he might offer his skills willingly." Steve said, his gaze unfocused as he looked down at his friend.

"But what if he doesn't?" You say with a frown, looking again at the man in the cell.

"If he doesn't, he'll be free to go wherever he likes. Hydra and Shield free" Steve said, a hint of a smile on his face. Although he was trying to hide it, you could hear the bittersweetness in his voice as he thought about it. Because if Bucky said no and left, he’d be leaving Steve behind.

"You'd get your best friend back" You say with a small smile, trying your best to pull him out of his melancholy thoughts as you hugged him around the middle.

"I would" Steve said with a laugh, hugging you back.

"Until that day however, we’re going to have to ask you to stay away from here." Nat said as you pulled away from Steve, turning you by the shoulders. You felt yourself pout.

"Why? Surely him being locked down there can’t affect me?" You ask with only a little annoyance evident in your voice.

"We don't know. All Hydra know about you so far is that we have you. The last thing we wanna do is broadcast your whereabouts via their deadliest asset." Natasha continued turning you to face the rest of the team. Scanning the teams faces, you could see they all felt the same.

"Here, stayed up to finish it when I found out they were bringing him here" Bruce chimed in, handing you your very on comm bracelet.

"This way you can talk to any of us whenever you need to without having to come down here." Nat said with a smile.

"Don't worry, I’ll stay away. This is the longest I’ve stayed in one place. I'm not jeopardizing that." You reply, slapping the bracelet on and looking at everyone. This was your new family. You weren't going to mess that up.

A/N: Chapter 2 can be found here

#avengers #bucky #bucky imagine #bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #james bucky buchanan barnes #winter soldier #james buchanan barnes #the winter soldier #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky x female reader #bucky fic #marvel imagine #marvel #marvel fanfic

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kylobith · 3 months

Text

Engraved on my Heart (Éomer x femOC)

Part 3 of 6

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6

Summary: Confronting the stark reality of their disparities, Éomer and Éorhild resign themselves to the belief that their paths shall never intertwine again. However, unforeseen developments at Meduseld present Éorhild with a fresh opportunity—one that has the potential to either elate her or become the wellspring of profound sorrow.

Ship/Pairing: Éomer x Original Female Character

Trope: Prince x Maid, Forbidden Love

Word count: 8,888

Note: This feels a bit more like a filler chapter, but I promise that it's important!

Read it on AO3 here.

Unlike most mornings, Éorhild was not roused with ease when Tidrun nudged her awake for her to assume her shift. With a groan, she withdrew her head beneath the sheepskin, tousling her locks into a matted mess. She harboured no desire to emerge from the comforting isolation of her straw bed, longing for nothing more than to evade conversation with anyone. Aware that she was entrusted with a position at the royal household's breakfast service, she anticipated that the mere sound of Éomer’s voice would shatter her composure.

After all, the flow of tears shed the previous night rendered her eyes so tender that opening them seemed an unsurmountable endeavour. They stung and itched, instigating a longing for ice to deflate and soothe them despite her limbs and joints already stiffened by the biting cold in the servants’ quarters. The hearth’s fire had been neglected by the night maids, and the stooped silhouettes bore witness to it.

Every fibre of her being ached — her body, heart, soul. Nothing seemed to make sense anymore. Why rouse from slumber to meander through the day and yearn for the sweet respite of bedtime when all feelings are dulled and dimmed? Why exert effort when nobody would take notice? Why, oh why, love when her heart was fated to be torn asunder by the forbidden?

As pragmatic and assured as she had been when reminding the prince of their reality, emphasising his duty to wed Lady Lothíriel to secure Rohan’s future with a queen and heirs, she now regretted her grounded perspective. A profound despair boiled within her, prompting her to cast aside all traces of reason and crawl to Éomer’s quarters, where she would implore and beg him to flee the realm with her. Away from Meduseld, away from duty, away from the social fortress dividing them. They could forge a new abode together, a sanctuary where they would be granted the unrestrained expression of their affection. Gone would be the fear of beholding him! No longer would she be plagued by the dread of being discovered holding his hand. They would be liberated. Free to touch. Free to love.

Tidrun hushed something to lure her from the embrace of her bed. The syllables swirled and danced across the gap between the two maids but dissipated long before they graced Éorhild’s ears. Without deigning to request a repetition, she stirred with a nonchalant grunt, shedding the sheepskin from her figure with a swift flick of her foot. At her sight, there was a subtle recoil from the other servant, who tried vainly to contain the involuntary gasp passing her parted lips.

‘By all that is sacred, Éorhild, what has happened to you?’ she enquired, her genuine concern etched onto her traits and a hand veiling her ample bosom. ‘You look as though you have not found rest in centuries!’

Irritated by Tidrun’s comment, which only intensified her wish to withdraw from social interactions, Éorhild offered a shrug as a sole response, stifling a yawn. As her fingers traversed through her hair, they encountered stubborn knots obstructing their passage. With feeble momentum, she dragged herself upright, shuddering as the soles of her feet were met by the iciness of the stone floor.

After retrieving her clean uniform from the wardrobe that had been replenished overnight, she tiptoed to the shared washroom, mumbling greetings to her friends who were winding down after diligently scrubbing, sweeping, ironing and folding all night. She handed a well-worn bar of soap that had been forgotten on the table to one of her colleagues immersed in bathwater. The other maid sat with her legs hooked over the edge of the wooden tub, her calves dripping onto the floor.

Indeed, the sole distinction between that morning and all the others from the past sixteen years lay in the silent yet devastating heartbreak that gripped Éorhild. The passing of the torch from the night maids to the cooks and morning servants unfolded as it always did — an everlasting design, unyielding to change. A gentle nudge from the next occupant of her bed would serve as her wake-up call. One or two of the servants would parade or bathe in the nude in the washroom as they unwind before retiring for some well-deserved rest. Balwinë, perennially forgetful, would seek her soap or towel — when not both at once.

Éorhild’s ritual had long been bereft of spontaneity. It operated with unsurprising precision, each step occurring almost at the same hour as the previous morning. Anticipating the night maids’ sloth, she unfailingly bathed before bed, also driven by a desire to keep the straw bed neat between uses. Upon awakening, she would make a brief visit to the privy, followed by a thorough wash of her hands, mouth, and face. Then, once adorned in her uniform, a mere pass of a comb through her hair was required before she proceeded to feast on seasonal fruit in the kitchens.

Always the same cycle. Never anything new.

For the past moons, Éomer had been a delightful disruption in this routine. Not that he would partake in it, of course, but his haunting Éorhild’s mind provided another reason for her to rise every morning. The sole thought of pouring his wine, laundering his tunics and ensuring their impeccable care would make her heart flutter with excitement. Even more vigorously would it beat later in the evening when she would enter the Golden Hall and find him by the hearth, eagerly awaiting to exchange pleasantries and laughter.

But those days were gone. Now, she had to live in fear of their embraces and kisses being discovered, even though they would exert every effort to maintain a distance between each other. There was dread in hearing footsteps near the door of the maids’ room, preparing her for the prospect of surrender if the visitor happened to be a guard arresting her before her execution. The image was clear as day: the gleaming blade of Herugrim poised in the sunlight above her exposed neck, followed by its swift descent that would sever her head from her slumped shoulders in one clean slash.

As Éorhild’s fingers crept up around her neck, she cast a defeated glance towards the window, behind which a vibrant sunrise was unfurling. Was he thinking about her? Did his sleep mirror the turmoil that troubled her own? Did he lie in his bed reminiscing about their first kiss? Did he shed a tear for her?

Or had he briskly cast her from his thoughts altogether, erasing any semblance of their friendship from his memory?

Catching herself with tears brimming in her eyes, she drew a sharp breath and followed her routine. When he exited the washroom, a group of maids stood by the revived flames in the hearth, palms extended for warmth, as they gossiped in hushed tones, careful not to disturb the others.

‘… not found?’

Éorhild trudged towards the door, apprehending her duties at the breakfast service. She yearned to negotiate with one of her fellow workers, willing to shoulder another day of work on top of her own if it meant that she could evade being in Éomer’s presence at breakfast. Yet she had to resign to face reality. One day or another, she would have to cross his path again. What difference did it make, whether it was on that day or within a month? The pain within her heart would remain unchanged.

Kneeling on the floor to lace up her leather slippers, which she retrieved from a row of shoes by the door, one of the maids engaged in the conversation around the fire called out her name. Refusing to partake in any gossip, she ignored her, pretending not to have heard her at all. As she spoke anyway, she deflected her attention to the common bristle brush, running it against the tip of her shoe to rid it of dirt and grime. And with it, pieces of moss from the hillside escapade with Éomer.

‘… guard exiled!’

Tapping the bristles against the doorpost, Éorhild placed the brush back where she found it before leaving for the kitchens. On her way, she overheard whispers and gasps from the household staff, yet she found no inclination to listen. With each step, her pace weighed heavier, as though she was marching inexorably to her own doom.

‘… a replacement?’

‘Oh, Béma preserve her!’

Using the edge of her hand, she pushed the door to the kitchen open. Inside, several cooks were already engrossed around the stoves, seasoning meat or toasting bread in sizzling oil. Others stood hunched over cutting planks, slicing fresh bread whose aroma filled the air, and arranging the slices into a lavish woven basket. Éorhild nodded at one of them, who greeted her with a brief hand wave. Pulling her headscarf from her pocket, she kept her back to the wall and concealed her hair underneath the thin linen.

‘It is going to be a normal day,’ she silently attempted to comfort herself as her heart thundered inside her chest and her stomach churned. She was aware that upon exiting the kitchen, Éomer would be seated in the hall beside his uncle. ‘There is no reason to worry. Nobody will know we ever kissed if we do not speak to one another.’

Yet once she came to face the fruit basket from which the maids were allowed to help themselves, a lump formed in her throat. A violent heave in her stomach seized her, causing her to stumble back. All colours drained from her cheeks as she pressed the pads of her fingers against her lips as if to stave off the urge to retch. All sounds from the kitchen were dulled by the overwhelming pounding of her heart echoing in her ears. Her fingers clawed at her shirt, but much to her relief, the nausea subsided as promptly as it had come.

‘Éorhild?’ a voice called out to her. Her eyes searched frantically for its source and locked with Mildrid, one of the senior maids tasked with setting up a presentable fruit basket for the royal family. The woman rushed to her side and held her firmly by the waist, touching her forehead with the back of her fingers. ‘Dearie, you are as pale as the first snow! Are you feeling well?’

‘Yes, Mil,’ she responded with an audible gulp, fearing that her dizziness might return. ‘I believe that I moved too fast. My night has not been the most restorative.’

‘Obviously not; your eyes are red beacons. Well, if you say that you are fine, I will trust you, but if your state persists, you must inform me right away.’

‘I promise, Mil. But you know me, I am too tough for any ailment.’

Mildrid chuckled and patted her shoulders before returning to her task. At least, she had believed her. Éorhild sighed and eyed the untouched fruit she had intended to eat. Visibly, her sorrow was such that it affected her appetite. Contemplating sinking her teeth through the skin and indulging in its juicy flesh triggered another wave of nausea.

She resigned herself to the prospect of hunger. She could endure an hour or two more of it; surely, she would regain some of her ravenousness once duty would disperse the royal family from the table.

Éorhild assisted Mildrid with preparing baskets and arrangements destined for the hall once the table was set. Before long, the kitchen door opened, and Edelmer, the chamberlain, made his solemn appearance.

‘Their Majesties King Théoden and Lady Éowyn have graced the Golden Hall,’ he heralded. ‘Before you enquire about the rumours that have spread among our kin this morning, we must await further orders from the king. No decision can be made without his approbation. Now, their breakfast service must commence.’

Before Éorhild could seek an explanation from Mildrid, as she found herself unsure of what Edelmer could mean, the older woman thrust a pitcher of cider into her hands.

‘Oversee the serving of beverages this morning, dearie,’ she chimed. ‘If the sight of food makes you swoon, I will not have you do so in front of the king.’

She nodded in response, steeling herself before marching out. Thankfully, only the king and Lady Éowyn were present; Edelmer did not mention Éomer. Would he attend at all, or would he forgo his meal to avoid her?

Oh, how she longed to chastise herself and deliver a resounding strike across her own cheek for entertaining such ideas. She had existed merely as a backdrop in Éomer’s life for so long. It was quite implausible for her to occupy his mind and trouble it with her absence as much as she was distraught by the end of their friendship.

When she entered the hall with her head low, she instantly discerned the tension in the king’s demeanour. His fists rested heavily on the wooden table, his thumbs twitching and repeatedly pressing against his curled index. Somehow, the prolonged silence bore a heaviness more pronounced than on ordinary days. It was rare that the king would utter a word at the start of the maids’ morning parade, but his stillness was usually ceremonious. But this time, it was disturbed by the muffled gritting of his teeth as he clenched his jaw. He did not pay the servants much mind when they lined up and bowed respectfully before covering the table with the various treats and delicacies prepared with utter devotion. Only Éowyn thanked them.

Éorhild approached the table and poured cider into the lady’s cup, careful not to spill it onto her fingers. She retreated to the frame of one of the arches behind her, awaiting any shift in the king’s demeanour that would signal his desire for a drink. It would not happen for a few minutes; King Théoden always made a point of devouring meat and a slice of bread before indulging in a beverage to quench his thirst and soothe his parched throat.

‘Uncle,’ Éowyn spoke, ‘please tell me that the gossip in our halls is false. Surely you did not administer such harsh judgement!’

Théoden picked a slice of bread and tossed it into his plate.

‘Our law is our law, Éowyn,’ his voice echoed throughout the lofty hall, carrying its sternness. ‘If anything, I have been nothing but merciful.’

Éorhild stared at the table’s feet, her curiosity piqued. Listening to the king’s conversations was always something she did, but it was merely to detect any shift in his tone or words that would betray thirst or hunger, which she could solve by filling his goblet or presenting him with food. This time, it appeared that something was amiss in Meduseld. Something ominous and noticeably troubling the Lady of Rohan.

Her speculations drifted to Éomer’s absence at the table, and her heart raced anew. Could it be that the guard had, in fact, detected her presence under the prince’s mantle the previous night and denounced her? If any punishment had been meted out against the king’s nephew, then it would explain his niece’s anxiety.

It could also signify an impending risk of her being arrested at any moment.

As her throat constricted with the weight of what this dreadful notion entailed, footsteps resounded beneath the opposite arches, prompting a visible relaxation in the king’s body language.

‘Ah, Éomer, there you are,’ he exclaimed.

Éorhild stiffened, meticulously counting every breath she took to anchor herself and keep another wave of nausea at bay. A chair was drawn out from underneath the table in a screech, and the prince sat with a heavy sigh. A moment passed before Mildrid gently elbowed her with a subtle chin jerk to alert her to him holding out his cup. Éorhild murmured an apology and stepped forth to tip the pitcher over his goblet with a trembling hand. She pressed a folded napkin against the container’s beak to blot any stray drop and joined the servants’ rank again.

‘So,’ the king started, ‘did you oversee what I told you to?’

‘Yes, uncle. The girl’s room has been cleared of all her belongings, and she has vacated the premises.’

‘Very well,’ Théoden said before marking a pause to savour his relief. ‘Tell me, had you observed any similar impudence from the girl?’

‘No, uncle. I was just as surprised to learn of it as you were.’

A sharp thump caused by a raging fist made all the cutlery laid out on the table clatter, and cups threatened to tumble. Servants, king and prince jolted from Éowyn’s outburst as her strained breathing disrupted the ensuing stillness.

‘I cannot believe that you are letting this happen! Both of you!’ she chided. Éorhild could perceive from the uncomfortable shuffling of Éomer’s feet that his sister’s reprimand humbled him. ‘She is but a girl, not yet eighteen if I am to trust Dúnhild!’

‘Éowyn, be still,’ the king’s voice rose in irritation. ‘She betrayed her oath and, as such, she must face the consequences of her actions. I showed enough mercy considering that he was a guard and not a courtier.’

A scoff escaped the lady’s throat.

‘There have been much worse affronts committed in this court that were not met with such drastic and cruel measures, uncle. Do you not remember Lord Gammer, who struck his wife unconscious for merely drinking more mead than he had allowed her during our annual banquet? You pardoned him with little more than a slap on the wrist!’

‘This was a different situation entirely.’

‘Indeed, because I found myself stitching the wound on her scalp that night. She could have been gravely injured had her son not caught her!’

‘Precisely. She could have. Yet she did not.’

Éowyn groaned in frustration and seemed to turn to her brother as if to bid him an unspoken plea for his support. Éomer did not respond. He evaded eye contact, sipping at his cider.

‘I know that all our maids swear an oath upon entering our service,’ the lady conceded through gritted teeth, toying with a piece of fruit on her plate without ever bringing it to her mouth, ‘but there was nothing inherently wrong with her action. Éomer had relieved her of her duties when it occurred, and Fréagar had already left his post. None of it was disruptive to their work!’

Théoden slammed his fist on the table in turn, mirroring his niece’s indignation. She froze and stared at the king, anticipating his following words.

‘An oath sworn is ineffable, and it is about time that you understand it if you are to marry Faramir,’ he retaliated, raising a finger to halt her from speaking before she could even open her mouth. ‘Our tradition is simple. Maids are not to take lovers of any kind. Neither affairs nor husbands. They pledge to remain celibate for a reason. I should have had her executed for her betrayal, but I decided to opt for leniency, considering that Fréagar was but a guard.’

‘How dare you call their humiliation and banishment from Edoras lenient? Théodil was but an orphaned girl when Hilda presented her to us when her previous employer passed. She was born within our ramparts; she has nowhere else to go.’

‘Let it serve as a warning to all the other maids who might wish to commit the same crime.’

Éowyn’s chair dragged against the stone as she rose to her feet, tossing her napkin onto the table.

‘Times are immune to change in this wretched land, it seems,’ she hissed. ‘I no longer wish to speak of it. You know my opinion on the matter, and I have no say in your decisions. I will not share your meals for the rest of the day. Good day.’

With these words, the Lady of Rohan stormed out of the hall, returning to her chambers with her maid, Dúnhild, in tow. Once she was out of sight, the king sank back against his chair and sighed, tapping his cup as a cue that he desired to indulge in some cider. While Éorhild tended to him, another servant carried Éowyn’s chair back to the kitchen and cleared her unfinished plate.

‘Do not mind your sister’s antics,’ Théoden huffed, waving a dismissive hand. ‘You are well aware of her proclivity for overreaction. As much as I love her, I find myself wondering whether I have indulged her too much over the years and inhibited her maturation in the process.’

Without emitting as much as a sound, Éomer responded with a mere shrug, holding his cup before his face. From where she stood, Éorhild could discern his white knuckles as he clasped the silver receptacle, which seemed to elude the king. Underneath the table, the prince’s leg shook up and down, attesting to his disapproval of his uncle’s stance and the insult against Éowyn. Yet, he did not voice it.

Fright gripped Éorhild now that she comprehended the situation. Later that morning, Mildrid explained that Théodil, Éomer’s chambermaid whom Hámer sought the previous night, had neglected to attend a small gathering in the servants’ quarters to celebrate the birthday of one of the younger girls employed at Meduseld. It could have remained unnoticed had the chambermaid and the girl not been close friends. Assuming that Théodil might have lost track of time, one of the maids visited her private chamber on the opposite wing of the Golden Hall, only to find the room empty and the bed untouched. After an unfruitful hour-long search, the servants had alerted some guards, who aided them in their endeavour. It took them another hour to discover Théodil and Fréagar in the throes of passion behind the stables. Éomer had been instantly notified, and the king was sent for.

Within just a few moments, the chambermaid and the guard had been banished from the capital for life for their actions. They were allowed the night to collect their belongings and return equipment and uniforms. By the early hours of the day, they were expected to disappear from Meduseld, forbidden to bid farewell to their fellow maids and guards.

Fear surged into Éorhild’s veins as she stood there, eyes riveted to the ground, and perspiration forming in the hollow of her palm rendered her grip on the jug of cider unstable. To remain inconspicuous, she had to clench her teeth to muffle their clattering as her whole body quivered from her sheer mortification at the odds of being denounced for what happened between her and the prince. All hope dwindled as she surrendered to panic and imagined Éomer incriminating her should she ever do something that displeased him — a prospect now heightened by the sudden pressure she shouldered. Flashes of her vision for her execution resurfaced, nearly blinding her and almost prompting the pitcher to slip from her fingers and shatter at her feet.

Éomer would never do that. Hopefully, he had appreciated her enough to spare her life. At least, that was a comforting thought.

Théoden held out his goblet, and Éorhild summoned what she perceived as a tremendous effort merely to advance and pour the amber-coloured nectar.

‘Now there remains one issue on our plate,’ the king spoke, raising his hand when the cup was only about half-full. The maid bowed and stepped away again under the prince’s stern yet fond watch. ‘We must find a replacement for that foolish girl. I will ask Edelmer to survey the maids and choose the most apt one. We must only hope that the new servant will be up to the task and not let herself be corrupted by frivolous guards.’

Furtive but knowing glances were exchanged between the maids, who endeavoured to maintain their composure. This was no ordinary opportunity for them. Becoming a chambermaid to one of the royals entailed several benefits. Allowances were increased, thus enabling them to afford more than the simplest products at the merchants’ stalls. For the younger ones who were still bound to a family, it meant sending a portion of their wages to support their parents and siblings and, therefore, honouring their name. Tasks were fewer and demanded less time, provided the maid displayed efficiency and thoroughness, granting her more moments for recreation. Her status within the hierarchy of household staff was favoured, as some daunting duties could no longer be demanded of her. If, after one month in Éomer’s care, he still found satisfaction in her service, she could renounce her previous oath as a regular servant and swear a new one.

Many were the speculations surrounding this new oath. Unlike the vows that Éorhild once made, those of a chambermaid were never pronounced publicly. Royals often tailored their demands from their new personal servants based on the relationship they developed with them and their own needs. As such, no oath resembled another. For this reason, they were usually made to the royal and, if permitted, a magistrate who could produce a written record of what was promised, should the need arise. Tales of old once spoke of a prince who instructed his chambermaid to vow to strike him if he ever came to be too harsh on his children. Legend had it that the maid only raised her hand once on the prince, and he never again displayed such behaviour towards his heirs, such had his guilt been.

Of course, this was but a legend. Whenever a chambermaid position would open, many of the younger servants would seek to claim it in hopes of securing an arrangement with the noble they served and ridding themselves of their celibacy vows. Many harboured dreams of dalliance with noblemen from distant towns in Rohan and Gondor during their visits, while others would find satisfaction in encountering a handsome ostler and guiding them through the city during their leisure hours before stealing kisses in the hall’s shadows.

But all of that required the royal family’s approbation, and the chance for it to happen was meagre. Not that the royals found it a revolting thought in itself, but rather because they bore weightier concerns on their minds than the celibacy — or lack thereof — of their maids. Some rulers who were more bound to traditions categorically refused to let it happen, for they believed that a good servant was unmarried, childless, and solely devoted to the care of the royal house and its children.

In the peculiar case of Théodil, no new oath had been sworn due to the war, when she assumed the duties of her predecessor, slain during the Battle of the Hornburg. Consequently, she remained bound by her earlier vows, and her liaison with Fréagar yielded disastrous consequences.

Éomer drank the last of his cider and placed the goblet on the table, his gaze fixed upon it for a fleeting moment, lost in contemplation.

‘There is no need to trouble good Edelmer, uncle,’ his baritone voice rose. ‘If you will allow me, I want to choose my chambermaid. One whom I can trust.’

‘That is certainly a strange request,’ Théoden scoffed. ‘Edelmer knows them better than anyone in this palace.’

‘And I do not deny it at all. Only there is one servant in particular whose talents are wasted here. She has been happily serving us for a long time and has done so outstandingly. In all sixteen years of her tending to us, I have never noted a single mistake on her part. She is most excellent.’

Éorhild’s complexion lost all its hues, and she stood frozen. This time, her trembling hands were too unstable to maintain a firm grip on the jug’s handle. Before she even realised that she had let it slip, Mildrid caught it just in the nick of time, saving it from shattering on the floor. The older woman placed it back in her hands and gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze, a silent indication that she was ordering her to return to bed once the king and the prince finished their breakfast.

Yet she paid no attention to her, offering neither nod nor acknowledgement. Éomer’s words echoed within the walls of her mind, reverberating and filling her with newfound dread.

This could not be happening.

She must have misunderstood.

Béma, please let it be a delusion.

Théoden reclined in his chair and eyed his nephew over a slice of cheese.

‘If you are so sure of yourself, then name her, and we shall fetch her.’

Éomer glanced over the king’s shoulder and witnessed the panic exuding from the young woman’s demeanour. Despite her averted gaze, he knew her well enough to sense that his desire to bring her closer to him again was instilling fear within her. She needed not to speak nor move to convey it.

No harm would befall her. He would ensure that. Any soul audacious enough to stand between them or lay a finger on her would never know peace until Éomer dealt with them. Jealousy and possessiveness were not ingrained in his nature. However, in the course of the previous months, a profound connection had formed between them, one that he cherished to the extent of willingly sacrificing the whole world for her well-being. Within a heartbeat, he would forsake throne and crown. He would relinquish his wealth and armour for a single night in her arms. He would crawl through the mud and soil his name to build a home for her to enjoy with his blood, sweat and tears.

Valar, she needed only ask.

The prince held out his hand towards her, although she remained unaware of it.

‘Her name is Éorhild. She is behind you.’

Théoden raised a discerning eyebrow, and his pupils followed the direction indicated by his nephew. As he scrutinised each maid, anticipating the right one to step forward and introduce herself, Mildrid discreetly nudged Éorhild in the ribs. Lost in thought, her mind was reduced to little more than entangled questions and what she pictured to be the worst outcomes of becoming a chambermaid. The tap extracted her from the mess of it all, and she advanced, bowing ceremoniously.

She could not allow it to diminish her. Though uncertain of the next step in her fate, she resigned herself to this unexpected turn of events. Answers would come to her in time.

‘Your Majesty,’ she spoke with the usual solemn tone she reserved for the House of Éorl.

‘Speak your name again, child,’ Théoden demanded.

‘Éorhild, my liege.’

The king inspected her without leaving the comfort of his chair. A heavy silence lingered for a few moments as the young woman remained bowed in deference.

‘I recognise you,’ he uttered with a deliberate nod, ‘although you have grown since our last encounter. You are the orphan from the Westfold that Hilda insisted on taking in, are you not? The woman nearly begged me. Well. As much as I trusted Hilda, it seems that one of her former pupils caused quite a stir at court last night. I hope you are intelligent enough to abstain from causing such trouble again.’

‘Indeed, I am the child you speak of. If Your Grace grants me a position in the prince’s care, you can rest assured that he will not lack anything. The discomfort of a bed shall never haunt his slumber, for I shall always strive to keep it neat.’

A fond smile graced Éomer’s lips; much to his relief, it remained unnoticed by the king. Théoden considered the servant’s words, running his thumb along his beard.

‘Are you aware that the role of chambermaid is rather different from what you might expect at this court, young Éorhild?’ he enquired with an eyebrow raised. ‘In addition to overseeing the cleanliness of the prince’s chambers, you would also serve as his lady-in-waiting. Your responsibilities would extend to rousing him, dressing him and tending to his attire. Remind him of the duties ahead and accompany him if he demands it. Should his meals occur at a different time than ours, you must ensure he receives his sustenance.’

As Théoden detailed the expectations for the role she was being thrown into, the lump in Éorhild’s throat swelled, making every new breath an ordeal. Her shoulders slumped underneath the weight of what was to come. Upon hearing Éomer name her, she had dared to hope that her contact with him would be confined to the mundane tasks of changing his bedlinen and tending to his chambers. The prospect of becoming his lady-in-waiting, however, brought forth a tumult of anxiety manifesting in a violent churn of her stomach. Nausea, the likes of which had seized her in the kitchens, resurfaced, and the pinching of her lips stood as the only obstacle to her heaving over Meduseld’s floor.

Éorhild’s sanity drowned under her raging thoughts, each capricious wave bringing a heavy burden of anguish and uncertainty that submerged even her pleading hand reaching out for safety. She felt like a ship steering into a storm, at the mercy of the tempest within her heart. Being so intimately involved in Éomer’s daily life was both a dream and a nightmare, and she struggled to bring her feet back to solid ground where she had to fear neither heartache nor losing her head.

Oh, what to do?

Théoden cleared his throat upon her lingering silence, growing impatient as the girl remained hunched over her knees. His fingers drummed on the table as irritation tinted his eyes and tensed his traits. As for Éomer, his concern grew as he discerned the encroaching pallor upon her face. Her petrified demeanour tugged at the strings of his heart as he conceded the delicate decision before her.

All he wanted in this instant was to draw her into the comfort of his arms.

‘Well, girl, do you accept this task?’ Théoden urged. ‘Speak!’

Éorhild drew in a sharp breath and clutched the jug.

‘I accept, your Majesty.’

‘Ah, I was beginning to think that you were mute! Very well. As with any chambermaid, your initiation involves a one-month trial period, effective immediately. If my nephew is satisfied with your service, then he will have you swear the oath. If not, you will be allowed back as a simple maid.’

‘Thank you, your Majesty. I shall work hard not to disappoint the prince.’

Théoden gestured with his hand, signalling for her to stand upright. The young woman obeyed, keeping her head bowed.

‘Edelmer?’ the king summoned the chamberlain, who promptly appeared at his side. ‘Accompany Éorhild to her new quarters and guide her through what is expected of her. Show her all there is to know.’

‘Yes, Your Grace.’

‘And Éorhild,’ the monarch continued, turning to her instead, ‘it is no longer required of you to avert your eyes in our presence. Behold your prince.’

There it was — the moment when she was granted permission to gaze upon the man she coveted. She lifted her chin with gradual deliberation until her eyes met Éomer’s. Rosy hues dotted her warming cheeks as her pupils traced the delicate lines of his face, which she had believed she would never have the chance to admire again.

And just before she caught herself staring, she bowed once more.

‘At last, my prince graces my view,’ she spoke up in appreciation, prompting Théoden to grin in utter amusement. ‘It is an honour I shall never take for granted, as it is to behold my king.’

‘This is certainly devotion if I have ever witnessed it,’ the king laughed. ‘Go and start your initiation. I will have you replaced for the tasks you were initially assigned to.’

‘At your command, Your Grace.’

Mildrid retrieved the pitcher from her hands and offered her arm a congratulatory squeeze. She observed Éorhild as the latter followed the chamberlain to the servants’ quarters to collect her scant belongings. As the maids lounging on the straw mats caught her sifting through the folded uniforms, searching for those adorned with her designated colours embroidered inside the hem, they congregated around her, curious about her impending departure. When Edelmer proclaimed the good news, a blend of celebration and envy emanated from the women. Some displayed authentic joy at her ascension to a better function after so many years of selfless and arduous work; others, more restrained, buried their hopes of liberating themselves from the celibacy vows and the curiosity of gazing upon the royal family.

Éorhild, still rattled by this unexpected change, hardly uttered a word. While the others swarmed her with their questions — especially curious about why the prince would name her in particular — she freed her blond mane from the headscarf and flattened the fabric upon the icy tiles. Setting the uniforms and a few possessions at its centre, she then tied up the corners, forming a bundle. Edelmer carried it for her as she let her fellow maids drown her in warm embraces and well wishes while she humbly thanked each and every one of them, holding their hands or pressing her forehead to theirs as they so often did to support one another through the years.

She departed with a heart divided, torn between the promise of a new opportunity at Éomer’s side and the wrenching sensation of leaving the life she had led since she was twelve.

If only Hilda were still there to guide her. In her typical ways, she would fondly pinch her cheek and punctuate her sentences with léofeon, an antiquated Rohirric term akin to ‘darling’. All the while, she would coax her to the kitchen for a hearty feast of comforting delights she would craft from loose ingredients, some you would never expect to go together so well and yet would taste divine. Hilda’s culinary talents remained unmatched, missed by maids and royal family alike.

In the stillness beyond the reach of curious ears, Hilda would tenderly cradle Éorhild’s head upon her lap while combing her hair and weaving braids into it. A patient listener, she never let her interest waver as the young woman would unburden her heart, and she would never disrupt the thread of shared confidences. Then, once Éorhild brought back to the sanctuary of reassurance, Hilda would impart her wisdom. She would encourage her to pursue what her heart desired and bestow upon her the most precious counsel life could offer.

No soul was ever lost if sheltered beneath Hilda’s wing.

How might she have perceived her former protégée now entangled in the allure of the prince? So desperately enamoured with him that she broke sacred rules in the king’s back?

There was no doubt that she would have strongly disapproved of it. She not only condemned her heart to endless suffering from an impossible love, but she was also losing sight of what truly mattered. A perilous path that would inevitably cause her downfall.

Yet, Éorhild kept following Edelmer to her new quarters, located merely two doors from Éomer’s. While far from luxurious, they offered privacy at the very least. Upon seeing the solitary bed nestled against the wall, elevated on feet and enclosing an actual mattress, the realisation struck her. In sixteen years, she had never spent a night alone.

She wondered if she was even capable of it. How does one find the relief of warmth without companions to huddle together with? How does one awake without the gentle nudge of a chambermate? Can one surrender to the enticing embrace of slumber when there is no sound to be perceived, whether it be groans or snores?

Éorhild had to figure it out on her own. Novelty certainly did not limit itself to the duties at hand.

As Edelmer stepped outside to grant her time to settle in her new quarters, she stood there in bewilderment, with nothing but the clothes on her back to accompany her. Her old uniforms had been taken away, and the chamberlain only needed to retrieve Théodil’s chambermaid clothes in hopes that they, too, would fit her successor. So, having nothing to do, she idled away the minutes by observing her new surroundings.

For a maid’s chamber, the main bedroom was wide enough to allow movement. With its headboard pressed to the wooden panels covering the wall, the bed faced a chest of drawers with ornate brass handles. Placed on top, two handheld candle holders adorned with half-burnt white sticks awaited their new owner. Trickling drops along their lengths were momentarily immortalised once touched by the cold until they would eventually vanish in the flame's heat. They rested upon a linen doily embroidered with traditional Rohirric patterns in golden thread. Éorhild admired it, brushing her fingertips against the curves and overlapping lines, smiling as she recalled watching Hilda create it when she was younger.

Opposite the door, a narrow window overlooking the valley enabled just enough light to penetrate the room and enfold anything or anyone standing in its beam with its warm mantle. A potted flower graced the thin windowsill, its drooping petals visibly as delighted about the arrival of winter as Éorhild herself. It was probably one of Théodil’s belongings, one discarded or forgotten in the rush of her departure.

On the left side of the room, the nearest corner encroached a sturdy chest, while, next to the window, a simple door opened onto a cramped washroom. Barely enough room existed for a tub, sheltered beneath a shelf adorned with a few towels and a supply of soap bars swathed in leaves. Behind the door, carved into the floor and digging underneath the palace, there was a pipe covered with a hatch through which she could dispose of her waste, a feature that the servants’ quarters lacked. Tossing the contents of chamber pots through the tiny windows that seldom allowed their arms to go through without spilling now seemed a thing from the past.

Life was about to change in ways she had not anticipated. It had all come so fast, at absolute breakneck speed. As she stood by the window to admire the view, Éorhild sighed and wrapped her arms around herself.

Behind her, the door creaked open, and Edelmer appeared with a stack of different uniforms balanced on his forearm. Once they ensured they were comfortable enough for her to wear, the chamberlain showed her all she needed to know about her new duties. She proceeded to strip the prince’s bed from its sheets, replacing them with clean bedlinen that Théodil had scented with dried flowers from the valley. The following hours she spent washing, hanging, dusting, wiping, and sweeping, regarding each task with the utmost seriousness. With a resolve she did not imagine herself capable of demonstrating, she forbade her inner turmoil from disrupting the thoroughness of her labour. Not a single surface was left with so much as a speck of dust. Not an inch of the wooden floor was left unpolished and dull. Not a wrinkle from the pressed bedsheets was allowed to persist. She departed the prince’s room in no time, leaving chambers more immaculate than they had ever been.

Soon enough, there were no more tasks for her to complete, considering that Éomer had been called out to survey the garrison at the city gates. In such circumstances, Edelmer sat her down around a cup of steaming herbal tea and detailed the lady-in-waiting part of her role, patiently answering her questions and advising her on how to proceed.

A few hours later, Éorhild emerged from the washroom, enveloped in the lingering fragrance of perfumed bathwater. Dressed in simple brown robes, she sat on the windowsill and rested her head against the icy glass. Outside, the world had come to a standstill as the moon rose into the sky, a beacon of light and hope in an otherwise cold and lonely night. Unable to quell her cruel thoughts, she could not help but remember that at the same hour a mere day prior, she was safe in Éomer’s embrace, her lips pressed against his. And there she was, thrust into a dance she was not quite sure she could follow, stumbling on her own feet.

A soft knock on the door interrupted her brooding, instantly bringing her solace. Solitude was clearly not her natural state. Shifting her weight to her dangling leg and standing up from the windowsill, she readjusted the belt around her waist and turned to the door.

‘Come in.’

Her relief was short-lived. At the doorstep stood the prince himself with his breastplate tucked under his arm. His brow glistened with perspiration in the halo of the candlelight as he stepped inside.

Éomer retained his striking handsomeness.

‘I hope that I am not disturbing your peace,’ he murmured. ‘I was merely wondering if you would grant me a moment to speak to you.’

With a tightening sensation gripping her chest, she stiffened and offered him a bow, which seemed to displease him.

‘You are the prince, my lord; if you wish to speak, you need only say the word.’

‘Éorhild, please…’

The new chambermaid stood upright again and stared at him with pleading eyes, growing mistier by the second as he graced her sight.

‘What have you done, my lord?’ she blurted out as he shut the door behind him and placed the breastplate on top of her coffer. Her voice quivered with an unyielding tremor, laying bare the concealed pain within. ‘Do you revel in causing me such torment?’

Éomer recoiled in surprise at such accusations.

‘How dare you indict me for such nonsense!’ his voice retorted, bearing a similar trace of anguish to her own. He did not raise it out of fear of being overheard and condemning her with his own indiscretion. ‘Éorhild, if you believe for a moment that I would wish to cause you pain, then perhaps you do not know me nearly as well as you claim.’

‘Then why summon me to your personal service when fully aware of the grief it inflicts upon my soul?’

As tears descended upon her cheeks, he could not restrain himself. He drew near and tucked her head under his chin, holding her close to his heart. Unable to maintain her composure any longer, Éorhild wept openly against his chest, leaving damp marks on the collar of his padded shirt. Heartbroken yet striving to console her, the prince wove his hands through her hair, fondling her scalp and shoulder.

Éomer squeezed his eyes shut until colourful spots danced under his eyelids. Even after allowing his vulnerability to be exposed in front of her the night before, he was determined not to appear weak in her presence again. Partly a matter of pride, having been raised with the harmful idea that men never weep, his main concern was that he did not wish to further her agony. If she were to witness how devastated he indeed was, would it not compel her to tend to his wounded heart, casting aside her own pain until it became too burdensome for her to bear? Éorhild was inherently selfless, and he wished not to exploit it or permit her to neglect her own well-being.

He had inflicted too much pain upon her already.

Éorhild clung desperately to his shirt, tears soaking the fabric as she found herself too feeble to cease her sobbing.

‘I cannot do this, my lord,’ she hiccupped. ‘Spending every moment by your side when my heart desires you so! Torment. It is truly nothing but torment!’

Éomer pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of her head, then leant back, his gaze locking onto hers.

‘I should never have named you; I realise this now,’ he sighed, wiping her drenched face with his thumbs. ‘How selfish of me! All I intended was to keep seeing you without the court’s scrutiny while keeping you safe from gossip, should the events of last night be discovered and denounced. Quite stupidly, I believed that by keeping you by my side, I could offer you my protection against the consequences they would entail, but I did not consider your pain.’

His arms enfolded her anew, and salty drops dotted her hair as his apparent serenity collapsed under the weight of their situation. Sinking his teeth into his lower lip, he joined her in weeping, unable to hold back.

‘Forgive me, beloved Éorhild. I cannot breathe when you are far from me.’

And so, they stood in the middle of her chambers, broken heart to broken heart. Their knuckles hurt from holding each other so dearly, unwilling to restrain their strength in their embrace, reluctant to let go. Despite all that had occurred, both admitted that taking this moment to grieve their stillborn love brought much-coveted balm to their souls.

When they parted, hurriedly drying their faces with the cuffs of their sleeves, Éomer took her hand and brought it to his lips, placing a light kiss upon her knuckles.

‘I shall not force you to accept this role that I forced upon you. This choice remains yours and yours alone. Should you refuse the opportunity, I would not hold it against you.’

With his sight still blurred by his tears, Éomer loosened his grip on her fingers, letting her hand naturally slip out from his grasp. Before bowing to her, he collected his armour from the trunk in the corner and tucked it under his arm.

‘All I demand from you, Éorhild, is to consider it.’

Leaving these words lingering in the air, the prince exited, closing the door behind him. As he moved to his quarters, his steps bore the burden on his heart. Meanwhile, as Éorhild’s world crumbled, she sank to her knees, cradling herself. She bowed over her knees to press her forehead to the cold floor as tears flowed freely once more.

It was a restless night, as it was to be expected. It was odd to lie in a bed without being inadvertently kicked by a squirming neighbour while the other was snoring into her ear. Of course, it was not the sole reason for such agitation. Twisting and turning upon the mattress, she pondered the benefits of her new position, disregarding the advantages that held no importance to her. Changes in her social status and the possibility of renouncing her celibacy vows she deemed dreary matters.

Éomer raised a good point when he mentioned being able to provide her with his protection if anybody found out about the embraces and kisses they shared on the hillside. So long as their accuser lacked the king's support, the prince’s testimony would prevail, as would his blade should anybody attempt to carry out justice without proper trial.

On the other hand, spending all this time by his side would undoubtedly prove to be a challenge during the first weeks, at the very least. Éorhild wondered whether she could summon the strength to be in such proximity to him while attempting to forget him and move on. So far, her upcoming nights seemed destined to be induced by the exhaustion from shedding tears in the cold embrace of her lonely bed.

Luckily, she could always refuse. Éomer granted her the opportunity to do so, and perhaps that was better for her. She only needed to alert the chamberlain, who would then notify the king. A temporary chambermaid would be appointed until Théoden and Edelmer agreed on her and Théodil’s succession. She would retrieve the maids’ chamber and blissfully complete the mundane tasks she had grown so fond of, even when they were not always pleasant to tackle.

When the morning sun ascended from behind the mountains, Éorhild swung her legs off the bed and meticulously arranged the linens. She adjusted her morning routine to the unfamiliar quarters, a temporary dwelling that she was not fated to occupy for long. Clothed and clean, she braced herself for a regular day; her thoughts gravitated around the tasks initially assigned to her.

As she marched towards the kitchens, her step was lighter, as was her heart. At last, she had settled her mind on what she deemed the best choice and was determined to adhere to it. When she opened the door to the cooks’ station, she saw Edelmer overseeing the planning for the royal family’s upcoming meals. With a decided step, she approached the chamberlain.

Shortly after, an elated Éorhild grappled with a door, her hands laden with the result of her first completed duty. She deftly balanced her burden against her hip, swiftly turning the shiny brass knob before slithering inside the room. Halting merely a few steps in, she gazed fondly ahead of her.

Éorhild admired the sleeping form in its lavish bed, huddled underneath the covers. Cascading golden locks streamed upon the pillows, wild yet still silky — she could tell. A soft snore filled the room, prompting her lips to twitch into a beaming grin.

Tiptoeing nearer, she placed the tray she held between her hands upon the nearest nightstand, cluttered with letters and playing cards. Carefully nudging them away with the wooden platter, she ensured that the latter was stable enough on the surface before walking away. She bypassed the bed and drew back the curtains, inviting the sunshine to spill into the room, illuminating the face of the deep sleeper.

‘Good morning, my good prince,’ she chimed, instantly causing his eyes to flutter open and his lips to curve into a grateful smile. ‘You must awake. There is a long day ahead of us.’

Tag list: @emmanuellececchi @konartiste @from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras

If you wish to be tagged (or no longer tagged), don't hesitate to let me know!

#Eomer Eadig #Éomer Éadig #Éomer #Eomer #Eomer fanfiction #Eomer fanfic #Eomer fic #Eomer of Rohan #Lord of the Rings #LOTR #Tolkien #Eomer x OC #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #Rohan

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blackroseguzzi · 1 year

Text

CORE MEMORY 💙

Here is a one shot for the installment of FATE! A little backstory of Reader and Colin when they were engaged!

I loved when Colin took me to the the Lake house on Wallenpaupack. It was such a quant little area, and the escape from the mundane structure of everyday life was such a serotonin boost for our relationship. Colin and I rented the same lake house every year since we had first gotten together. The way the cute black cabin set itself away from some of the bigger homes on the lake made for a private and romantic getaway. We usually spent 5 nights alone and then invited our families over for the last two nights. It was the vacation we looked forward to every year. It was my time to reflect on what I had acquired through the years of being with Colin. The way he would wrap his arms around me as we watched the morning sunrise was warmer than the cups of coffee in our hands. The way I would watch Colin dive off the dock with my nephews and play water tag -the sound of giggles echoing over the lake. The morning walks we took without our cell phones and just the company of each other as we chatted about future plans and nature as we took it in. It was the one week of the year that I felt completely and utterly whole. I was hopeful that in our old age we would be able to buy the cabin and retire there to spend the rest of our days in complete peace and tranquility.

“Here we are babe!” Colin announced as he parked the car in front of the quiet cabin. The smile on his face was contagious, and I eagerly exited the vehicle and took in the lake smell and the sounds of birds in the trees.

“God, I missed that smell!” I laughed, pulling my bag from the backseat. Colin walked to the safe box and typed in it’s code to retrieve the key. He quickly unlocked the front door and I couldn't help but smile as you looked around the cabin.

“It looks just like we left it.”

I ran my hands over the back of the old yellow couch, the quilt folded neatly in the corner was folded in the same way I’d left it last year.

“I don’t know how many other people Judy rents out to, but I know she likes us the best!” Colin announced as he brought in the last of our bags. He sighed happily as he walked over to the fridge, throwing a few water bottles and his iced coffee inside.

“Hey is that the Christmas card we sent her?” I pointed to the fridge as Colin closed it. He examined the photo and smiled.

“Yeah, that’s Kingston with a Santa hat alright.” Colin laughed lightly at the photo of your black cat that was stuck to the fridge. We had sent her the card with our news of the engagement scribbled on the back.

Colin walked past me towards the wide window in the living room, and he took in the scenery. There was a small deck off the back of the house with two old rocking chairs facing the sparkling lake. A little further out was the dock that swayed lightly in the water. I walked up behind him and wrapped my arms around his torso. He let out a breath and I gently put my head to his back, listening to his breathing. I realized in that moment that it had been a few weeks since I had even given Colin a proper hug. We were passing ships in the night some weeks. His job was all consuming, and my job at the paper was nothing thrilling but it kept me busy. We had gotten engaged at Christmas, so now wedding planning for next year was taking up a lot of my free time.

Colin twisted around so he was now engulfing me in a bear hug. I felt his lips brush against my head in a tender gesture of affection.

“What do you say we grab that bottle of wine and watch the sunset?” I looked up at Colin with a wide child like smile. Sunsets at the lake were my all time favorite. We hadn’t been able to leave town until late today due to a holdup at Colin’s work, but i hadn’t minded since i knew we’d be there so close to sunset.

“You know its rude to read my mind Mr. Zabel,” I joked, pushing a finger into his chest and watching as his lips twisted in a smirk- showing off those delicious little dimples.

“Great, you get the wine and I’ll go change out of work clothes. It doesn’t feel right to be in a button up at camp.”

I clapped my hands together and walked briskly to the car to retrieve the 2019 Opus One Overture Napa Valley Red from the car. My boss had given it to us as an engagement gift, and you wanted to open it for a special occasion. Colin and I were wine people, but we usually stuck with $25.00 wine from the grocery store or the ones that tasted like juice. So now that Colin and I had gotten a fancy bottle we were itching to break in to see what the hype was about.

I walked back into the house to find Colin had changed into a black short sleeve and his kaki shorts. I hadn’t seen him in such a relaxed outfit in a long time, and it turned me on.

“Pour some wine on meee, in the name of vacaaaa,” Colin’s rendition of pour some sugar on me made me roll my eyes and smile as I poured us both a glass and we ventured outside. I sat on the edge of the dock, dipping my toes into the sun kissed warm water.

“Cheers to another amazing year,” Colin held out his wine and as they clanked together the red liquid danced around the glass.

I took a small sip and scrunched my face up, turning to see that Colin’s expression looked very similar to mine.

“This taste like ass,” He stated, making a fake gagging noise before asking me my thoughts.

“It tastes like a burnt fruit salad,” I giggled and took another sip. “But the bottle is open so I’m not wasting a drop!” Colin huffed and swirled the liquid around in his glass before joking around and plugging his nose while he took another sip.

I nudged him lightly, enjoying seeing the softer side of Colin Zabel tonight. He had been working so hard on such heavy cases that watching him joke and smile was such a joyous sight.

The two of us sipped wine and exchanged sweet banter back and forth as the sun set. Once the last slice of orange cast itself across the lake, I felt Colin’s arm sling itself over my shoulders and his thumb lightly caress my shoulder blade. I leaned over and gently pulled myself close to him.

“I love you, y/n,” Colin whispered through the sounds of the gentle water and buzzing bugs and crickets.

“Oh you do?” I asked devilishly, pulling away and raising an eyebrow at my fiancé. He grabbed my wrist to pull me in and planting kisses all over my face. Then when his lips finally found mine I grabbed his face, to make sure he stayed right where he was. He hummed in delight as I dove my tongue into his mouth. The smell and taste of the lingering wine was both exotic and intoxicating. I felt Colin’s hand slide up the back of my shirt, swiftly unhooking my bra.

I pulled away and smacked his chest as he let out another laugh. He got up quickly from the edge of the dock and before I knew it, he was throwing off his shirt to expose his in need of tan skin. He continued to pull down his shorts, leaving him just in his blue plaid boxers

“Night dip?” Colin called out, his face was so full of happiness that I couldn’t even say no. He didn’t wait for me to respond before plunging off the dock into the water. He emerged and let out a yell, and sucked in a breath as if his body was adjusting to the water temperature.

“You coming?” He playfully splashed at me and shaking my head I finally took the last sip of wine right from the bottle. The alcohol was making me quite hot and ready for more kisses from Colin.

“You really love me, Colin Zabel?” I asked as I stood on the dock, eyeing my fiancé in the water.

“More than the world,” He responded sweetly as he scanned my face and smiled wide to expose his perfect teeth. I quickly took my shirt off and dropped it to the ground next to my wine glass, and my bra came down with it soon after. Colin’s eyes widened at the sight of me half naked, and he looked as though he was surprised by my actions. I decided then to pull down my shorts and underwear at the same time - revealing nothing but my birthday suit.

“WOW, I’m going to go broke buying all that expensive wine if this is what it does to you!” Colin laughed as I rolled my eyes and before I knew it my naked body was jumping off the dock into the dark water. I emerged to see Colin swimming towards me and his fingers landed on my ass cheeks and squeezed them gently.

“God, how did I get so lucky,” Colin whispered against my ear as we embraced in the water.

“I think we both lucked out on the relationship front,” I giggled and nibbled at his ear. I wanted him so bad, just feeling his relaxed presence made me remember why we came here every year. It was that spot that made us both feel like the only two people left on the planet. The kisses he was giving me were sending shock waves through my body. I gripped him tight as we floated together, and as we drifted closer to the dock, I decided it was time to get us out of the water.

I pulled myself back up onto the wooden dock and watched Colin follow. I laid my naked body down and watched the night sky. The brightness of the stars and the warm outdoor light on the porch was the only thing illuminating our wet bodies. Colin crawled on top of me, planting more kisses to my skin. I felt him shimmy off his wet boxers to expose his hard penis. He pushed down on me and I gently guided him inside of my body.

“God you feel so good,” He breathed in my ear as I moaned in pleasure. He made love to me slow and gentle and the dock moved lightly under us both sending me over the edge faster than I normally would. It had been so long since we’d connected like this, and it was utterly insatiable. He kissed me like he was drowning, and I was his air, and his thrusts were intense yet tender.

This is exactly what the two of us needed.

“I can’t wait to make you my wife,” He growled as he quickened his pace inside of me.

It must have been what I needed because when he grabbed my hips it sent deep vibrations into my body it sent me over the edge.

“Oh my god, Colin!” I gasped as I let my body experience the electric orgasm course through my body. He sent a few more deep thrusts before exploding into his own pleasure. I felt him twitch on top of me before he slowly slid from inside me and laid his body down on the dock.

“Hey, it’s the big dipper,” I called out between heavy breaths.

“Thanks honey, nobody has ever called me that before” Colin joked. It sent me into a fit of laughter as I smacked his arm.

As our laughter died down, I felt Colin’s hand grab mine. “I’d say this activity should be another tradition for us.”

“No, I don’t think we could recreate that every year,” I smirked.

Colin twisted to raise on his side so he was looking down at me. He gave me a quick kiss. “Got it, we’ll file it away as a core memory.”

#colin zabel x reader #Colin Zabel fanfiction #colin zabel #colin zabel x you #Colin Zabel x y/n #Colin Zabel imagine #Colin Zabel smut #Colin Zabel x reader #Colin Zabel mare of east town #MARE OF EASTTOWN #Colin mare of east town #Evan Peters #Evan as Colin zabel #evan peters x you #evan peters imagine #Evan Peters x reader #evan peters fanfiction

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blackfangedreaper · 2 years

Text

VERTIGINOUS

Prompt: "I feel woozy."

Pairing: Luffy x Fem!black!informant!Reader

Warning: Lemon🍋, fluff💞 , missuse of haki, squirting, overstimution, cursing, grammatic errors, 18+ MDNI.

Taglist: @luffyinlove @closet-degenerate

The feeling of fire spread around your body as you felt it, the feeling of the raw power emanating off his body the pressure causing those who couldn't handle it to pass out.

You gasped, your knees weaken as you felt luffy release more of his power to challenge his opponent and he seemed to be winning because his opponent looked to be getting shaky and drowsy, they looked just as bad as you did, except you loved it.

The feeling of your beloved overpowering you sent your mind racing and set your body alight, you don't think you would be able to stand this any longer, your mind was fogging up and your breath; heavy and ragged.

"Oi, y/n are you alright? You don't look so good." Zoro asked looking at you in a sceptical light before his eyes widened, he looked at luffy then back at you. Luffy's haki wouldn't be affecting you now would it.

"I-I'm fine why?" Your eyes struggled to stay open, you fell into a state of euphoria your face heating up as you felt luffy's gaze on you. "Ugh." You whimpered quietly as you couldn't take it anymore, your knees buckled making contact with the floor.

"O-Oi!" Zoro went to your aid his brows furrowing as he studied your panting form, what could be wrong with you? You never flinched while in the presence of others why luffy's?

"Zoro, take y/n inside." Luffy said the authority in his voice caused you to jolt covering your mouth with your hands to trap the moan threatening to come out of your mouth. Oh God he's gonna be the death of me.

"On it." Zoro picked you up bridal style and started to make his way over to sunny with your twitching form in hand. Hopefully he won't stray from the straight path to sunny.

The moment zoro dropped you off at luffy's room you rushed to his closet. Rummaging through his clothes, you found the shirt you wanted, stripped and put it on with just your undies then proceeded to lay on his bed.

Digging your face into his pillow you buried yourself into his blanket, engulfed and overwhelmed by his scent you rub your thighs together, your breath coming out in large puffs of air as you waited like a good girl.

You felt your slick smear on your thighs as you rubbed them intensely trying to ease the heat you felt, just how long do you have to wait. You whined feeling the need to be filled.

You wanted him to take you, break you then piece you back all together. Fuck, you wanted to be wrecked and fucked out of your wits till you were spilling nothing but his cum from your womb and babbles from your mouth.

The tremors that rocked the ship weren't helping matters cause every jolt sent vibrations up your body and down your cunt. You could tell they were going crazy out there by the ruckus they were making.

Everywhere was so noisy before suddenly you couldn't hear a thing but the heavy pants escaping your mouth. What was going on- then you felt it, his presence, he was close. You shivered when he entered the room.

"Y/n..." He stepped in finding you stuffed into the blanket shivering, were you cold?

No, you weren't. Atleast he didn't think so, stepping closer he asked. "What's gotten into you." He knew what caused this, of course he did, its happened once before.

"You always d-do this luffy" You answered him, you didn't want him to see you like this, but the thought of him ripping the blanket off of you and making a mess of you- well you were already a mess- sent bells ringing in your head. You wanted that, you wanted it so bad. "Shishishi, my bad!" He laughed rubbing the back of his head.

"Luffy..." You stretched your hand out of the blanket and clutched onto his shorts and pulling on it. "N-Need you..." You lowered the blanket letting you gaze upwards into his wide brown eyes with your halflidded ones. "Won't you take responsibility?"

"Hey! Aren't you hot under there?" He snickered ignoring your statement to pull the blanket off of you. "Oi! That's my shirt!" And although he said that, he looked anything but angry, infact he was beaming.

"W-What? Luffy-"

"Lemme just..." He hops on the bed spreading your legs apart to sit inbetween them. "Woah! Look at that! Haha your panties are wet!" Luffy laughed and you could only cover your face in utter embarrassment jolting anytime he poked at the wet spot.

"Luffy stop tha- nngh!" You felt him clasp both sides of your panties before he slid them inbetween your folds using his index and thumb. "Hmm? Where you saying something?" He tilted his head sideways, innocence shining in his eyes as he dragged the knuckle of his index finger up and down your slit, brushing against your clit briefly before going down all over again.

"N- ooh!" You moaned feeling him flick your clit while holding up your panties inbetween the creases of his middle finger. "You sure? Could have sworn i heard something." He pursed his lips hiding his smug smile behind it before looking at you in question, you only gave him a shake of the head though. "Oh well." He shrugged, pulling your panties off and discarding them elsewhere, he spread your legs letting the cold sea breeze brush against your aching clit as he watched your pussy clench on nothing.

He earned breathless crys and moans from you as he ran two of his digits up and down your slit spreading your moisture everywhere and toying with your clit a little, pinching and tugging it between index and middle. Teasing your hole by rubbing circles around it then running them up your slit again.

He looks like he's having fun- scratch that he is having fun, he's loving every jolt, whimper and mewl that leaks out of your mouth, let's not forget the drool. He has barely started and your already a mess so out of it and definitely in bliss. His lips were tugging up as far as they could go, his teeth and gums on full display, the mirth dancing in his eyes and let's not forget the bulge pressing against his signature blue shorts. Mans is definitely going to have a field day with this.

"Luffy! P-Please, in! Go i-in already-ouh!" You begged shaking your head side to side at his teasing. "Ok!" He beamed, if you knew it was this easy you would have asked earlier. Your thought process stopping as you felt his thick fingers infiltrate your petals, pushing in as far as he could before bringing them out again, you arched your back feeling his pace increase, moaning at the sensation and jolting at the expansion.

"Does it feel good?" He asked peering down at you with his doe eyes. "Yes- luffy!" Your whines drew laughs out of him, you could feel the rumble of his chest as your knees were beside it. "I know!" This little shi- you ought to teach him a lesson but you'll hold your self for now you were feeling too good at the moment.

You opened your eyes abruptly at the stop looking at him in question. "Why did you stop." Pouting as you felt him stand up. "Oh sorry, my shorts feel tight i wanna take them off." He apologised taking off his shorts and boxers to reveal his raging boner, looks like he's already being punished. He proceeded to get back between your spread legs, his legs on each sides of your body and your legs going over his to rest on his shoulders.

He shifted closer feeling you shiver at the weight of his lenght resting on your abdomen and the feeling of the now cold precum dripping at the start of your belly button almost falling in. You began to take off your shirt but you stop half way moaning when he held your thighs against his chest elevating you a little to grind his heavy cock against your weeping cunt. Leaving the shirt wrapped around elbow covering your face as your breast jiggled and bounced without control to the force of his thrusts.

He watched your boobs move up and down following the rhythm of the tune he was playing, he released your thigh letting his hands grasp your soft mounds liking how it felt in his hands as he pushed them together and squeezed them, tempted to suck on them he leans forward earning a groan from you as he spread your legs pushing your knees beside your head as he welcomed your nipples in his mouth. Rolling and flicking his tongue against them. You gasped loving the feeling of his rough tongue against your round and full tits, the way he bit and sucked on them, the way he moaned against them as he slid his length up and down your folds. Gosh you felt good, undeniably so.

"D-Damn you feel you good." Luffy moaned at the feeling of your parts rubbing together, the feeling of your slick smothering his length and your pulsing clit rubbing the prominent vein underneath his fat cock. Hearing your muffled moans he looked up taking in your covered face and chuckling at the wet spot that was forming, he tugged his shirt off now letting your sweet moans bounce off the walls of your room and into his ears. You opened your eyes and immediately you locked eyes with luffy's halflidded ones that seemed to be staring into your soul.

You shivered liking the way he was looking at you, infact you loved it, the way his eyes ate you up and you could see you were a mess in those shiny brown orbs of his- no like you could actually see your reflection and gaddamn you looked like a mess, no not a sexy mess, a real mess but he could careless, to him you were stunning. Light bouncing off your beautiful brown skin making it take a nice golden brown tint, Your h/c curls spread out, framing the pillow, your dark eyes almost covered by your dwindling eyelids and eyelashes, your glossy plump lips parted to let your moans fly out freely- let's not forget the visible drool line, embarrassing ain't it.

He leaned down enamoured by the way your teeth tugged at your bottom lip, he stopped you by biting the same lip you were chewing on, tugging on them before releasing, causing it to smack against your teeth. Then he dived in again to press his lips against yours, sucking, biting and tugging on them causing a minor swelling before he pushed his tongue between your teeth to flick yours. Roughly, he tilted his head opposite yours as he rolled his tongue against yours before pulling back slightly, letting your tongue chase after his as he left your wet caravan. You poked your tongue out past your lips urging him for a little tongue touch, he obliged letting the tip of his tongue boop yours causing sweet laughter to bubble up in both your chests. You began to pull back but before you could he sucked on your tongue getting a shocked moan from you before releasing you with a 'pop'. He laughed at your bewildered expression. Fuck, that was sexy.

After that insane makeout session luffy sat up taking note of his red and pulsing tip, he hissed feeling you wrap your hand around him, stroking him a little bit before shifting your hips upwards to rub against him. "L-Luffy please." You pleaded tilting your head sideways as you looked at him through your lashes, urging him to fuck you already. "Fuck- ok." He shifted back a little letting his head run up and down your slit coating his fat head with your essence to the point it was dripping. "Look at that." Luffy said mesmerised, looking up to see your head thrown back at the pleasure you were experiencing before going down to your hole teasing again, rubbing his head around until he couldn't take it anymore and pushed in abruptly and sharply. Fuck!

Your moans echoed around the room overshadowing luffy's whimpers and whispers of how warm and soft you were. "Damn Y/n your so tight! Your sucking in me." He moaned feeling you spasmed around him. He waited for you to come down from your high before slowly moving out due to your sensitivity- i mean your were teased for like, how long?- letting his tip stay before plunging in again then doing the same thing over and over again till you were wailing, i'm talking tears jerking shit- don't look at me like that- you wanted him to wreck your shit now he was doing so and he wasn't stopping for nothing, not for your pleads or babbles of nonsense, nope he wasn't hearing anything but the sounds of his balls slapping against your ass and the sound of that wap playing on repeat.

Your pussy was drooling all over his dick we be calling you pitbull- dale! -by the way you be slobbering all over that dick, slippery but unyielding you had him on chockhold with the way you be clenching on luffy jr- there is nothing jr about him- and who was he lying to? He loved it, every second of it. He could feel the ring of your slick forming on the base of his thick cock and dripping on the sheets, coating his heavy cum fill balls in the process and hearing dirty smacks as it made contact with your fat ass. "L-Luffy nuhh!" You squeezed the sheets between your fingers creasing them with how tight your fist was.

"Luffy yesss!" Luffy mocked laughing at your tear filled and fucked out expression.

Fuck you were close, so close and you were sure luffy knew too with how he tightened his hold around your waist- that was gonna leave a mark. Luffy kept going pounding into you like no tomorrow, bruising the entrance to your womb with his head thrown back and at the midst of his pleasure-filled brain he accidentally activated his conquer's haki. This sent tremors round your body causing sparks and shocks, stimulating your nerves all the more and increasing your sensitivity.

You wailed begging luffy to go faster and he did go faster and in the process he hit your g-spot. This sent a spark to your brain, arching your back your head flew backwards, jaw dropping, eyes rolling to the back of your head as your toes squeezed together and feet rolled downwards. Before you know it a mind shattering orgasm rocked your body with tremors, your mouth wouldn't close and glass cracking moans ricochet off the walls and windows.

Luffy was still thrusting not slowing down one bit to give you a rest as he pounded into you with no remorse, prolonging your orgasm -who asked you sir- even having the audacity to roll his thumb against your pearl- No he doesn't want peace he wants problems always plus don't you know violence is always the answer and the way- you shrieked still not down from your high and you could tell luffy was chasing his. "L-Luffy- nngh- wai- ouhh!" You reached down trying to peel his hands off as you spasmed but he smacked it off and continued his assault. "Stay." He commanded and you listened closing your tear fill eyes.

"I feel it comi-nng!" Luffy whined increasing his pace, his hips stuttering and energy dwindling as he fought to chase his high. His balls heavy, filled with hot cum and his cock rigid, ready to ejaculate and empty his now weighty balls. You felt the same foreign feeling swelling up in your abdomen but with a tinge of pain. You were coming again and you were coming hard- well again. Luffy focused on his breathing matching it with yours and the rolling of his thumb on your pearl, then he felt it, the shiver going down his spine and the string in his abdomen snapping. "Y/n!"

Goosebumps rushed across his skin as he came into you his eyes rolling back and his toes curling as his back arched pressing deeper into you, finally he released his fat load in you, his balls squeezing as he emptied it's contents by his cock being milked by you, he groaned still in the process of his high. "Luffy!" he snapped out of his daze at your wail and the waterworks apparently- no not your tears obviously, we're talking about them pussy juices. He watched your hip buck upwards and spasm as you squirted painfully and intensely, spraying not only the sheets but his cock and abdomen too. You doused anything in proximity and he could only watch as your cum drip down his abs to his cock then finally drenching his balls and the sheets underneath.

"..." He had no words, all he could do was sit and watch you calm down from your prolonged high and when you did it was only whimpers that escaped your mouth. Your body shaking at the overstimulation and forced squirting, you couldn't even say his name or cuss him out for torturing you but at the same time you were glad you couldn't because if you could you would ask for more. "A-Are you alright? You look out of breath." He asked worried, bringing his hand up to wipe the sweat forming on the your forehead. You smiled shakily, you were happy he was worried atleast he was feeling remorseful.

He tried moving but you whimpered which forced him to stay put. "O-Oh i should probably stay put." He sweatdropped before coming up with an idea. "Hey how about this!" He beamed at you then proceeded to lift your waist a little to tilt his legs before resting at a kneeling position then laying on your chest, mistakenly pushing deeper into you. You moaned feeling how full you were with how much he came and with how his added weight caused his cum to spill out.

"Sorry!" He apologised shifting you sideways so he could throw your leg over his waist. You wrapped your arms around his neck humming at the comfortable position. "This alright?" He asked wrapping his arms around your waist to draw you close. "Mhm." You nodded smiling at him. Drawing closer he pecked your lips then your forehead before whispering. "I love you y/n." As he rubbed his nose against yours gently. Giggling you did the same before falling asleep and your strawhat baby following you instantly into the embrace of much needed sleep. "I love you luffy."

#monkey d. luffy #luffy x black reader #fem reader #one piece #one piece x reader #one piece fanfiction #mugiwara no luffy #hawt #luffy smut #sunshine baby

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polafairy · 2 years

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SAKUATSU (and other rarepair ships) FIC MASTERLIST!

saw someone do this and i just had to give my 2 cents because i have way too much love for these! some of these recs are no stranger to sexual intimacy for a heads up! One thing guaranteed is that all of these are completed, and HEA despite the angst that may come through :)

SAKUATSU

1. smoke and mirrors

ohmygod. i read this in the plane to new york and MY was i seated reading this whole thing. this sneaky little fic gave me all the domesticity & fluff my heart couldn't handle but alas, as most fake relationship aus do, it also fucking broke me BUT picked the pieces back up very nicely. 10/10.

(msby jackals, r-rated, CUTE)

2. the affective presence of our black and white reruns

lord have merthy. literally pining at its best!! they are both idiots and bad at feelings but good at.. very good at /it/. also you should keep in mind that this fic is inspired by paramore's all i wanted was you and let me tell you nothing bad ever comes out of being inspired by paramore. ever. skts from u-18 camp up until msby jackals.

3. bound

AHHHHH. LITERALLY the crème de la crème of slow burn. Actors au? Check. Killer banter? Check. Gratifying cast of characters? CHECK. ao3 user internetpistol is VITAL to the sakuatsu fanfiction circle, all her works are must-reads! very r-rated. as in this is equal amounts porn and feelings.

4. hand study

THIS IS CRACK. If you need to believe in love again this is literally all you need. It also breaks you for extra measure on the realness. This is also Atsumu with hand fetish reserved only for Kiyoomi but accidently injures it during practice so now he decides to take care of Kiyoomi in his apartment where they do sexy domestic couple shit and slowly fall in love and fuck it up but resolve it again. The perfect ingredients list as u can tell.

(MSBY jackals, fluff, r-rated)

5. play among the stars

I usually take a hard pass on sci-fi material BUT HELLO??? SEXY BODYGUARD KIYOOMI AND SEXY CRIMINAL ATSUMU STUCK ON THE MOON FOR 2 MONTHS?? What insane person would pass on that. Also very easy to pick up on despite its content surrounding on space. r-rated.

6. again, until it's perfect

this is utter perfection. I have so much love for skts stupidity and top tier banter and this is just all of that but also gives satisfaction to the heart.

(easy one-sitting read, msby teammates skts, fluff)

7. three sheets to the wind

this is literature. like miss ao3 user fairycake can write romeo and juliet but shakespear will never be able to write three sheets to the wind by ao3 user fairycake. lil bit r-rated

(pirate au, heaven sent, witty as hell, impressive humor)

RAREPAIRS

1. persephone by batman

kageyama/tsukishima. arranged marriage. strangers to lovers. lyrical writing it almost ALMOST puts t swift to shame. feelings dripped in gold.

2. venus planet of love by fatal

kageyama/kunimi. again with the lyrical writing this is literally the integration of love and poetry.

3. hunger by iphido

akaashi/osamu. even more beautiful writing. 2 souls trying to pick up the pieces of their hearts together i love them.

4. questionnaire by iphido

kageyama/oikawa. poetry through an interview and it's very short but just very sweet.

5. the contest between by batman

akaashi/osamu. this fic has my soul in shambles. it has so much care, research, and love for food and feelings. the chef miya osamu (side dilf) agenda is also just excellently done. yearning seeps through every word and i just love this so much please give it a chance.

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atheliasnotebook · 1 year

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caramel words and wishes

kaedehara kazuha x gn!reader

tw: pretty angsty, mentions of death

it’s hard to be good to yourself. even if you don’t take care of yourself, at least there is someone who's got their hand held out for you.

╰────── ꔫ ──────♡

it's hard not being afraid. hard not being fearful of scaring kazuha away with any of your troubles, or being so burdensome to the point where he thinks its overwhelming. affection through physical gesture is your love language—but it's not the same when it comes simply just to holding hands and intertwining fingers. maybe if you weren't so afraid, you'd hug him more. give him more kisses as you pass one another in the kitchen. in your mind, you can't help: will that be the last time you ever feel that touch?

why lose what you have? the two of you had gotten together after the entire situation quelled with the raiden shogun's strike on your lover. now, after all of that happened, that is the question. what are you afraid of?

first, death. you loved this boy, and it didn't matter whether he returned your same feelings, but if he could be happy. in one way, if he died, your heart would eat away at the rest of your body in the guilt knowing you could never get to tell him how much you loved him. yet, at the top of this subsection of worries, you wondered if anything would change in his life if you died. kazuha: the calm, collected, and wise—is not the type of person who would react in any sort of outlandish way in response to the typical ending to every mortal's life.

second, solitude. crying alone in bed is not ideal, let alone crying at all. crying is for the weak. it's for the stupid. it's for the pathetic who have no other outlets who have no ability to do anything else. nope, no motivation to stress-clean out the pain, there's no juice left to create some profound expression through art, and no drive to work out and constantly keep a healthy body (like the world recommends). your boyfriend is always out on business, if not on the ship. that aquatic vessel is your home, but will all the tears you cry fill the gap that is in between yours and kazuha's relationship? at least then, if it does, one of you has the option to sail out of this sinking love swiftly.

it's better to simply suffer in silence and wallow in pain than to suffer a lonely life, just as you anticipated.

love is a surprise to you. how could anyone love you? after all, when you had fallen in love after being friends for a couple of years on top of that, what will happen when you lose him? will there ever be another person to write exquisite reveries dedicated to you—ones where the words practically dance graciously in unison with the gentle zephyrs of the season. if he leaves... will there ever be another person who's willing to listen to you blab on and on and on about the things that trouble(d) you in this "fleeting existence" (as kazuha would refer to it)?

it doesn't take long to realize how warm and blurry your vision is. obscured by the tears and congestion that fills your nose, the customary wind-whistling halts to a stop.

"______, there is something that bothers you so," kazuha observes aloud, tossing the leaf in the wind as he scoots closer to you, where the both of you can savor the modest shade during a sunny day.

"you know..." he begins. "i have noticed how you are distant from me as of late."

his voice begins to drop in volume, not quite to a whisper or a mutter, but just gently lowered. he creases his eyebrows, turning his head toward you.

"i quite adore your company." kazuha looks to the sky, and then back to you—whose trying to hide the falling tears from your face. "often, i catch myself grazing my fingers over the grooves in my palm hoping to replicate the warmth of your hand."

but you thought he didn't like your company. why would anyone like you? too clingy for your own good, wanting to be around him to the point where you're stuck to his side.

"sorry," you start off. "it's better that i distance myself. in my last relationship, they broke off things with me because i was too affectionate."

you couldn't help but feel more tears fall as you speak about... whoever.

the poet nods, his arms crossed in a loose-like way as he scoots closer to you.

"there is a wise saying i heard from my travels long ago: 'the bigger the burden, the smaller the bottle.'" you think of the saying, unsure of what it actually means.

"the longer you choose to hold onto regrets and fears from the past, in comparison, the bottle in which you hold those sentiments becomes smaller—and thus, easier to break."

kazuha holds his arms open to you, encouraging you to take him into an embrace. and with a slight hesitation, you back away with widened eyes of anxiety. he smiles, nodding in reassured approval. and then, attempting to release all the rushing tides that swirl within the bottle.

a warm hug, and a smile followed by hitched and breathy sobs. you shake and tremble the tightest hug you've ever had. at least, the tightest one you ever had and liked.

"no matter how far we are separated, my heart shall always belong to you and only you. regardless of the distance that may stand between us, i will love you forever and always. the very thought of leaving you splits my soul in two. so, please..." he says, pulling you closer in your hug. "never think that i don't want you around. your touch is like that of the most perfect and tender kisses.”

╰────── ꔫ ──────♡

link to landing page here !

liyue characters masterlist here !

#kazuha x reader #kazuha genshin #kazuha angst #kazuha comfort #genshin x reader #genshin angst #genshin impact angst

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whovianwatchingstartrek · 5 months

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A Whovian Watches Star Trek for the First Time: Part 104 - Battle of Pahvo

Star Trek: Discovery - Season 1 Episode 9 - Into the Forest I Go

We pick up exactly where we we left off. Command is recalling Discovery back to Federation controlled Space, and abandon the Pavhan's defence. Lorca however, disagrees, and has a clever plan to take down the Ship of the Dead. Trouble is, we only have 3 hours to figure out how to defeat the cloaking device, because that is the time that Command expects Discovery to Warp to safety by.

To create a paper trail about why Discovery is travelling by warp and not by spore drive, however, Lorca orders Paul to have every medical test done, which will inevitably reveal to his Doctor BF about the genetic nature of his connection to the spore drive.

The actual plan is simple, however it requires Discovery to make hundreds of consecutive spore jumps to 3d image the ship but would almost certainly fry Paul's brain. We're then given the idea that the Mycelium network can extend beyond just the galaxy into the rest of the universe and even into parallel realities, and this really motives the scientist inside Paul, seems to be hinting that this the direction we're going in once this war arc is done and dusted.

In recent years has kinda become saturated with multiverses, but it's an idea that I love. If we do end up going in that direction, I hope it's handled well. Doctor Who has kinda dabbled in parallel universes before, Most Notibly Inferno and the overarching story of Series 2 of the Revived Series, and has kinda set my taste for how I like Parralel World storylines. Point is, if we do go in that direction, I hope Star Trek handles it's multiverse more akin to how Doctor Who does, and less like how Comic Book movies handle their multiverses. Basically, I want it to use a multiverse to tell interesting stories with the characters we have, I don't want it to become cameo-city

Paul get's into position to make the jumps, the Ship of the dead uncloaks. Ash and Michael beam aboard and the battle begins.

While aboard, Michael finds Admiral Cornwell and Ash starts having PTSD flashbacks after encountering the Klingon Torturer. Since The Admiral is unable to walk, and the Ash is out of commission, Michael is alone in placing he sensors. Luckily she successfully does it, and Discovery does it's jumps. As predicted, the Ship of the Dead goes back into cloak, but Discovery completed it's scans and now can bypass the cloaking!

The scenes with the doctor watching Paul suffering to make all those jumps was heartbreaking, and the episode had be at least convinced that Paul would die in the process. I also loved Michael's confrontation with Commander Kol, over his lack of honour, and her reclaiming Captain Georgiou's rank badge, which allowed her to kind of redeem herself in her own head.

With Kol defeated, and the Klingon Ship of the Dead destroyed, and command decides to decorate Lorca with something, presumably a medal, called the Legion of Honour, however Lorca decides to pass that honour onto Paul, which I'm really happy to see. This man deserves everything for going through that drive. However, Paul decides that the jump home will be the last jump and he'll reture to earth afterwards, which makes me wonder who'll take that spot going forward.

We get an interesting scene where Ash opens up about what happened while he was in klingon prison, and his survivors guilt and how that affected him. My heart goes out for the guy. But we also get the revelation that the Torturer made him some kind of sleeper agent or something, and that programming is starting to awake.

We're then left with the Cliffhanger of something going very wrong during that jump. The Bridge is in chaos, and no one knows where they are.

This was a very nice conclusion to the whole Klingon War arc, and I'm excited to see where we're going next. Whatever is happening with Paul, and Ash, as well as where the ship ended up jumping to. I'm a bit worried about the multiverse direction the first half of the episode hinted at, but we'll see where this goes

#whovian watching star trek #star trek #star trek Discovery #Star Trek DIS #Star Trek DISCO #ST DIS #ST DISCO #DIS #st: disco #DISCO #st: discovery #Discovery #ST: DIS

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marivenah · 6 months

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FLUFFTOBER - DAY 16

Singing one another to sleep - for Shireen

>> prompt list

Pairing: Shireen x Maul

Characters: Shireen Oqir, Maul, Konag Oqir

Words: 1k

This prompt was supposed to be written for a different ship but this little scenario came to me like two days ago and I just had to write it down.

-----

Another day has passed and yet again Shireen craves nothing more than to rest. It hurts her not being able to bring her children to bed and say goodnight but by now every one of them has been asleep for hours and she doesn’t want to risk waking them again.

The thought of spending a calm night with Maul soothes her, though.

When she enters their bedroom, she frowns. Unlike expected, she finds it empty. Or perhaps she did expect it and only wished it wasn’t so. To her luck, she knows exactly where to find him.

So, Shireen turns on her heel and heads out to exit their chamber again.

Even now that he has freed himself from the ever-tightening grip of the Sith, Maul still manages to neglect himself. Life will never allow for him to rest.

She sighs as she steps through the door but stops in her tracks. Did she spot something in her periphery?

Her view wanders back, to the balcony of the room, where she spots Maul outside, shrouded by the darkness of the night.

It comes even more unexpectedly. She tilts her head, not knowing what to make of it. Is she already dreaming? She shakes her head to make sure that she is in fact awake. Then, silently closes the door before approaching the Zabrak.

As Shireen steps outside, the soft night breeze brushes her exposed skin. Not quite cold but nonetheless refreshing in this climate. Loose fabric of her nightgown dancing in the wind.

Maul doesn’t face her. All of his attention is directed at what is resting in his arms.

“He should be asleep by now”, she says quietly, “As should you.”

He sighs, barely audible but her sixth sense didn’t fail at picking it up regardless.

“I heard him cry. I didn’t want the girls to wake up, so I brought him here.”

On one hand, it breaks her heart seeing their boy struggle so much. Konag is such a happy baby. Just like his sister Hinah, only that she almost never cried. But life seems to want to put obstacles in his way at any given opportunity.

On the other, seeing Maul take care of the boy, doing everything he can to make Konag feel better makes her heart melt back together.

Everything the Zabrak suffered through as a child, and yet he chose to raise his own with so much patience and compassion.

…

Softness.

And kindness. One she has only ever witnessed from him when the two of them are alone.

The thought makes Shireen smile. She places a hand on Maul’s shoulder while looking over it.

“He isn’t crying anymore”, she notes.

“Yes, but unfortunately, he wasn’t able to fall asleep again”, he says.

The low tone of their voices is almost sending Shireen to sleep herself. But the worry for her son is keeping her awake. She rests her head on Maul’s shoulder, then reaches for little Konag, softly caressing his cheek with the back of her fingers. The tiny red boy smiles when he spots her. And it’s so incredibly infectious.

Shireen hums, “So, what do we do with you, little one?”

“It may not work the same as for the girls but perhaps you can still try to sing him to sleep with one of your lullabies.”

It doesn’t? “You want me to sing to him out loud? Do you remember what happens every time I do so?”

He scoffs, at least that’s what it sounds like. “Your singing has never affected me. Konag might not be of your species, but you are his mother. I doubt your singing would have negative effects on him.”

“That much is true, but not because of the reasons stated”, she says with a tired smile. “You noticed his horns started to grow. But have you noticed these?”

She points her fingers at the tiny dark spots right above his ears. Just like his horns, his antennae started to grow.

“While he may not be fully of my species, he does carry parts of it. Whatever features the male offspring of the queen inherits is different for each, but it’s never nothing. His eyes aren’t black, and he won’t have full organic armour, but what he did get are his antennae.”

She chuckles, “And...”

Konag yawns, exposing his very tiny very little fangs.

“Don’t think he got his fangs from you.”

“So, he is part of it?”, he asks calmly, referring to the network.

Her Zabrak will probably never learn everything about her species, but she appreciates that he still tries despite it sometimes sounding like a school lesson. He knows more than anyone else ever will. Enough to understand. And that is more than enough for her.

Shireen cups Maul’s face in her hand and nods. He leans into the touch. He is, as always, radiating with warmth and it results in her growing even more tired. So, she leads him back inside.

Once they’re all comfortable in the bed, Shireen takes Konag from Maul and cradles the baby in her arms.

“You might be a little too young to sing yet but you can listen.” She lifts him up into the air which incites a giggle from the boy before she pulls him close to her face to rub her nose on his tiny one.

Then, she lays down, into Maul’s arms and puts Konag between them.

Eventually, she closes her eyes, which have become heavy by now, and listens to the silence for a moment, that is only filled with soft breathing.

Once their breathing is seemingly synched, Shireen starts singing. One of the oldest lullabies she knows. It takes her a lot of strength to not fall asleep, too. The days have been exhausting. So, she values these little moments of peace even more.

Through the use of the force, Shireen can sense the boy slowly dozing off. And when the singing ends, the silence can not only be heard but felt.

“I think he heard it”, she whispers.

When she doesn’t get an answer, she opens her eyes again and finds Maul sound asleep as well. Seems like Konag wasn’t the only one listening.

Shireen smiles to herself. Something to remember for the future.

It doesn’t take long for her to give in. The heat radiating through her sending her off to sleep.

#oc: shireen oqir #txt.shireen #x: to your deepest low #mywriting*#mine.ft23 #ahh i enjoyed writing this way too much 🙈#i finished this so quickly #also i will never not use the opportunity to info dump about her species i'm sorry 🤡#no idea where exactly they are at this point in their lives so keeping it vague here sksks

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apphiarothowrites · 8 months

Text

Nothing but the truth

Nobody notices anything is wrong with Marco for a full two days after the fact. He doesn't blame them-it's not a habit or instinct of his to lie. Hell, he hadn't known anything was wrong with himself until dinner when Thatch shoved a plate of pie into his hands and despite his attempt to be polite about it, he somehow said "Oh, I'm not going to be able to eat this" instead of "Thanks."

Thatch barely batted an eye at the time, waving him off with a "Then give it to Ace!", already engrossed in passing dessert out to some puppy-eyed deckhands from the Second Division. Still, the fact that he couldn't pass off his dislike of this particular pie-chocolate mousse-like normal is what tipped him off.

He tests it throughout the next day. First with his first officer, Mala, during paperwork after breakfast. He opens a conversation about paint colors for a theoretical redecoration of his quarters, Mala asks his opinion about the color orange, and he tries his absolute damnedest to say he hates it with every fiber of his being. Instead what comes out is, "I love orange. Reminds me of Ace-yoi."

And while his attraction to Ace hasn't exactly been a secret in his own Division, Mala's eyebrows rise above the rims of their glasses regardless. He's usually much more subtle about it, quieter. He's never said much about it out loud, let alone so directly.

Later in the day, in deference to how close he got to just blurting something out that he isn't exactly keen on being known, he changes tactics. After a near disaster during lunch--Namur lamenting his shore leave will be cut short to supervise a supply pick-up for his Division that Marco nearly volunteers himself for--he switches to nonverbal answers.

Nods, shakes of the head, shrugging of the shoulders, a hand wavering in the air "so-so". He keeps his opinions honest, but practical and gentle. "You should tell your First Officer this." "That's the responsibility of your Quartermaster, ask him." "This isn't something my Division covers, take this to the Fifth."

He also delegates. On deck, he keeps himself reserved and quieter than normal. He relies on the deck bosses to be vigilant, allows senior members of the crew to throw their weight around to keep the younger or less experienced sailors in line, and generally stays close to the helmsman in the topmost deck. Ace is on the same deck shift as he is and he lets the younger man do most of the work. It isn't strictly out of character for him-he runs "tests" like these often enough that most aren't surprised by his shift in attitude. The only mild oddness is that he didn't warn anyone he was doing so-his usual routine is to give a heads up a week or so beforehand to the deck bosses and Division Commanders about such a thing. Thankfully, everyone takes it in stride-especially Ace who practically shines with how well he takes over the flow of the ship while he's in charge.

He even tells Ace so when the deck shift changes, patting the younger man on the back and praising him on the way indoors. Ace flushes, still unused to compliments, but gives him an odd look when they enter the mess for dinner. It's a close call, but Marco thinks he's in the clear once Ace starts wolfing down his multiple plates like normal.

In the end, though, it's Pops who figures him out. Pops appears in the mess halfway through dinner and things almost immediately go off the rails. The cheery atmosphere boils right over into riotous joy-songs, drinking contests, money changing hands, and food everywhere. Marco, already slightly on edge from the strangeness affecting him, finds his nerves wearing thin after the first hour. But moments like these have been getting rarer, where Pops' health is on the upswing and he's got enough energy at the end of the day to sit around and shoot the shit with the crew.

Pops notices, because of course he does. There's a lull, about two hours in, around him and he leans over on one elbow to nudge Marco's back gently where he sits on the arm of Pops' chair. "You're frowning there, son."

"Sorry-yoi." He says automatically. And he is, he hates when his worries and mood deprive Pops-or anyone-a chance at a good time.

"What's on your mind?" His father asks quietly-which, for a man his size, is still a dull roar but in the din of the cafeteria Marco knows barely anyone heard him.

"That guy from the fight two days ago did something to me." He says, not a single thought going to the preservation of his dignity. There had been a minor scuffle during a supply run, and a man had shoved Marco into a wall while accusing him of lying about his loyalty to the crew. "I can't lie and I'm having trouble holding back impulsive honesty or gestures-yoi."

Pops eyes him, one eyebrow raised, and takes a sip out of his massive tankard. "What's to be done about it?"

Marco shrugs. "Fuck if I know-yoi."

Then he blinks, the abruptness of his own honesty surprising himself. "I...I don't know. I'm going to piss somebody off though, or tell someone something I shouldn't-yoi."

Pops rests a massive hand against his back, warm and steady. Marco leans back into it, feeling strangely comforted and mildly embarrassed (like he's 18 again, freaked out by a nightmare and too prideful to say so). "Come see me in the morning, we'll discuss what we should do next. Until then, try to enjoy yourself son!"

He shoves Marco off the arm of the chair, directly into Ace's passing side, and laughs loud enough to make his ears ring.

#AR writes #nothing but the truth #y'know when people are cursed to speak only the truth/they can't tell lies #yeah I'm going there

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