ak319

[ak319]

hiiiii I see you are answering asks . when will u give an update on xu junlai ?

Haii anon. My days are unpredictable rn, like sm days I'm a lot more occupied and sm days I get time, and if I have the energy, I grab my laptop and begin typing. also, sometimes it's kinda tough to get into the mind of every character and respective readers with them to write...if you get what I mean, sm kind of writer's block ig.. Anyhow, u can send your desired scenarios, or questions regarding him, so it will be easier for me to have a plan on the material, and whenever I get the time, I'll jot down and cook up the idea for u, so gimme smth good ;) Ik a lot of ppl loved him and want sm more of our royal diva.

[ak319]

My children are starving. They cry themselves to sleep every night— not because they’re tired, but because they are hungry.

There is no food to give them. No clean water. No medicine. No way to keep them safe.

I am a mother in Gaza. I have nothing left but my words, and I am using them now to beg you:

Please. Help us. Feed us. Save us. Don’t let my children be next.

Donate whatever you can. A small act of kindness can keep a child alive another day.

Please Donate now:👇👇 👇

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✅️My campaign is vetted by el-shab-hussein& Nabulsi's, my number verified on the list is ( #355)✅️ 👇

https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/u/0/d/1yYkNp5U3ANwILl2MknJi9G7ArY4uVTEEQ1CVfzR8Ioo/htmlview

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[ak319]

Oh sister, when will the day be that you bless us with an update on Arthur? I miss him, my bones are asking for it. Well, I hope you're well. :)

It could be today , tmrw or..even later.. I feed on keepin u guys on edge 😈

[ak319]

THANK YOU SO MUCHHHH FOR THE YAN GUBBBY FIC . I FEEL LIKE I CAN FINALLY BREATHE AFTER A LONG TIME ♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

RAWRRR IM GLAD😭😭 Narin's fandom BE CRAZYYY (love that ofc)

Narin: Why wouldn't they be!? Everybody loves such a pretty , cutsie househusband as me, but I better be the only one u love, hehee ✨️🎀 and btw I hope u didn't forget to take us both on the cafe date? (Holding Mylo by his hip with a look that means ur dead if u say anything other than "ofc not darling")

You and me : ....ofc not darling. That's not even possible that I can...haha.

[ak319]

orr u can share urs :)) would love that sm

If anyone wants me to say my opinion on a character with this bingo

[ak319]

WHEN WILL WE GET MORE FICS OF YAN HUBBY 😭😭😭😭? M BOI DESERVES LOVE TOO

Yup, i felt guilty abandoning my baby too almost as if I can feel his siren eyes glaring at me thru screen. So u asked and I fed. Here's the new part

[ak319]

Lovesick bubbly hubby x fem reader

ミ☆ Slice of Life

♥︎ Syno: Narin and you had a baby, and it's a boy! ♥︎ Warnings: bxg but matriarchal themes e.g. mpreg mentions! Fluff and lots of it and a bit of spice too..;) ♥︎ previous

If someone had told Narin how different his life would be now, he would pause, blink, and then smile. Because they’d be absolutely right.

In the small moments carved out of his busy routine, as your dearest, only, and unquestionably prettiest husband of the century, and now, as a papa too, Narin finds himself glowing. He’s the proud father of the cutest baby alive: Mylo. Your son. His son. A perfect blend of everything he finds magical in this world. From this marriage to the beautiful home you’ve built together, Narin can’t stop thanking God.

Even his parents, especially his father, noticed a subtle shift in him, something like maturity. Narin, the boy who once barely finished assignments on time, now insists on knowing every detail about how to feed Mylo, how to burp him, how to swaddle him just right, how to lull him to sleep, and still find time to cook your favorite meals.

You and his parents have gently suggested hiring a maid, just to ease the pressure.

But Narin? Absolutely not.

"Are you kidding!? A MAID!? What if he flirts with you!? What if he tries to seduce you while I’m in the nursery, elbow-deep in diaper duty? DON'T EVER SAY THAT!" he’d shriek and break stuff, already imagining dramatic betrayal scenarios.

No stranger was stepping into this home. This sanctuary. His wife, his baby, his perfect little life, he was going to protect it with every inch of glittery, sleep-deprived resolve he had.

Speaking of...

🍭 "Do I look fat? Have I changed a lot? Have I lost the baby weight or no-"

"My little angel, cupcake, you’re perfect as alwa-"

"YOU ALWAYS SAY THAT!"

And there come the tears.

As if cradling Mylo and keeping him quiet wasn’t enough already. One wrong movement and that baby will erupt. Two crying babies? Definitely not what you signed up for after coming home completely knackered.

"I say that 'cause it’s true, babe!"

"Oh really?! Then why did your brother TAUNT me about-"

"I told you to ignore what my family says! Why do you always listen to them-"

Insert loud wailing from Mylo.

Perfect timing.

"Shh, it's okay. Your father is just having a moment-"

"EXCUSE ME?!"

Oh no.

His routine is even more exciting for him now! From you cuddling them both in the morning for at least an hour, showering your boys with kisses, to him getting himself and Mylo ready before you come back from work-

Absolute heaven.

And do you think that after having a baby, he lost his own flair? That cunning, minxy flair? Think again.

🍭 He leans back into your chest as you cuddle him closer, your arms wrapped around him and Mylo nestled peacefully on his lap. Narin hums softly, inhaling the familiar scent of his beauty products and the sweet, distinct baby smell clinging to Mylo’s blanket.

"How’s work going, Coco? I hate seeing you… work yourself this much…" he murmurs, his fingers absentmindedly stroking Mylo’s tiny sock-covered foot. But you...

You weren't listening. Too busy nuzzling his neck and stpping yourself from devouring him right then and there.

"I mean, I get it, you’re amazing and a hard working woman, wife and all, but maybe... maybe just lie down here? Just for a bit? On me?" he whispers, tilting his head back to look at you with those wide, pleading eyes. "I promise I won’t move. Not even a twitch."

The way he's acting all meek--God, he's gonna get it.

He shifts slightly so the blanket covers your legs too. "I even warmed your favorite one. See? I planned this nap. It’s romantic."

Then, a pause.

"...Unless you’re leaving again. Are you leaving again?" His voice wobbles, and his lower lip starts to jut out, slowly, dramatically.

That pout. That ridiculous, practiced, award-winning househusband pout.

If you even hint at standing up, he’ll clutch your sleeve like a Victorian widower watching his love go off to war.

"Mhm...who said anything bout' leaving, mhm?."

You shift slightly behind him, your chin resting on his shoulder, lips brushing the shell of his ear.

"Y’know," you murmur, "for someone who says he’s too tired for anything but naptime, you sure know how to trap me under a warm blanket like you’ve got an agenda."

Narin gasps, actually gasps, his hand flying to his chest like you accused him of a crime.

"Excuse me?! I’m a sweet, innocent papa trying to get his hardworking wife to nap! How dare you-"

You trail a finger down the curve of his waist, slow enough to make him shiver.

"Mmhm. Innocent, huh? That why you keep wearing those silk pajama pants around me like you don’t know what they do to my self-control?" You gave the side of his hip a firm swat.

Narin’s cheeks go red immediately, cherry blossom red.

"Th-they’re just comfy! And breathable! And postpartum-friendly!” he stammers, clutching Mylo like a tiny shield. "Besides, I-I don’t control how good I look in them, okay?!”

You smirk against his neck. "Sure you don’t."

He lets out a tiny squeak, torn between wanting to argue and silently bask in the fact that you’re still that into him, he keeps fussing over, and the fact that he hasn’t done his skincare routine in two days.

You hum against his skin, and then, without warning, press a slow, deliberate kisses to the side of his neck. Just below his ear. Right where you know it’ll make him flinch and curl his toes.

Narin freezes.

You feel his whole body tense in your arms, his breath catching in his throat like a cartoon character short-circuiting.

"H-Hey… hey-C-coco…" he whines, his voice high and wobbly. “You c-can’t just-! I’m holding the baby!"

Ignoring him, you kiss him again softly on his neck, biting in between.

His head tips back against your shoulder, eyes fluttering shut, lips parted in surrender.

“You missed me?” he breathes out.

You grin. "Of course...so much, my doll...."

Another kiss, this time to his cheek, and then one right at the corner of his mouth. His fingers curl tightly around Mylo’s blanket like it’s the only thing keeping him from completely melting.

You finally press a rougher kiss to his lips full of passion to shut his quiet whining. He doesn’t even move at first, just sighs into it like it’s the only thing keeping him alive, letting you bite and suck his pouty plump, fruity lips.

When you pull back, he’s blinking up at you with that dazed, heart-eyed look.

"…Okay," he says, dreamy and breathless. "Maybe I do have an agenda."

Damn right he always did, from the moment you stepped in the house, with your sleeves rolled up and the loose tie.

But of course, this little vixen of yours would see your child as a perfect tool to manipulate you. Like, duh. As if groveling to him alone wasn’t humiliating enough, now you’ve got two people to apologize to: one with dramatic eyeliner and the other in a fluffy cat onesie. And honestly? It scares you. The way Narin can just pack a bag and threaten to take Mylo to his parents’ place the second he’s mad. You’re never sure if he fully understands the kind of hurt that leaves behind, or if he does, and simply doesn’t care. It only took one real scolding from you, one sharp, serious reprimand, for him to shrink back, eyes wide and glistening, murmuring apologies with shaking hands. He hasn't dared to do it again since. Not openly, at least. But deep down, he’d been a little pleased. Pleased to discover a weakness in you. That just by giving you a son, he’d carved himself into your life so deeply that no matter how angry, how exhausted, how heartbroken you got... he’d always be a permanent fixture. You weren’t just his love now. You were bound.

🍭You unlock the door, stepping in with tired shoulders and your work bag slung low. The house smells like baby lotion, leftover pasta, and ....suspicious amounts of drama.

Silence.

Too much silence.

Then you spot them, curled up on the couch. Narin’s in his robe, hair up in a little bun, Mylo nestled in his lap with his tiny face squished against his father’s chest.

Narin doesn’t even look at you.

"Oh," he says. Flat. Chilly. "Look who decided to come home."

You blink. "Babe, I told you I had a late meeting-"

He holds up a hand, still not facing you. "No, no. You don’t get to ‘babe’ me right now. We had plans. Mylo and I were going to watch that cheesy prince movie together, and I made themed snacks. Themed, COCO! Do you realize the effort in that?!"

You try to step closer, but he scoots dramatically to the side, shielding Mylo’s ear like he’s protecting a witness.

"Don’t talk to him," Narin says in a stage whisper. "He doesn’t want to hear it. Do you, Mylo?"

Mylo just hiccups and chews on Narin’s robe tie.

"That’s right," Narin murmurs, leaning down conspiratorially. "She abandoned us. Left us to suffer. Alone. No goodnight kisses, no evening cuddles. And we looked so cute today too, didn’t we?"

"Narin-"

"Shh." He gently taps Mylo’s lips with a finger. "Don’t say anything to her, baby. Silence is power."

"You are coaching our son against me again?"

Narin gasps theatrically, clutching Mylo to his chest. "Cover your ears, baby. She’s using the Voice. That rough, work-weary, tempting Voice that ruins our boundaries."

Mylo lets out a giggle.

Narin gasps. "Traitor."

You try not to laugh as you make your way to the couch and lean over, kissing both of their foreheads in one go. "I’ll bribe you both with cookies and twenty minutes of undivided attention if you forgive me."

Narin narrows his eyes.

"…Fifteen minutes of forehead kisses."

"Deal."

"Only cuz', you are hot."

You grinned. "I know."

He slides you a smug, victorious grin while Mylo coos and shoves his foot in your face anyway.

Great coaching, no doubt.

[ak319]

Dark J.M x fem!reader

-- ★ The Word of Claim I No Such Thing as Leavin'

Syno: You take a chance at escaping the brutality that has now clouded your life. Warnings/MDNI: lassoing the reader, angst, slight fluff at end // I don't condone such behavior irl! +++ Want to clarify that this was an ask! (The reader runs away, and John feels bad after punishing them) So thanks, anon, for this! //Photo cred to Miranda on Pinterest. ✰3.3K //Even tryna keep my asks short i still end up writing more lol cuz i can't stop.

I concept m.list

The flower bracelets, cheap, but once fresh and beautiful, were now being ground mercilessly under his fist. Their delicate petals, the same ones that had once made him stop his horse, made him buy them from some goofy vendor like a fool, like a pathetic man, crumpled and bled color against his skin.

The camp’s noise faded into a single, sharp, unrelenting beep, like the blaring horn of a distant train, drowning out everything else.

It was the first time he had ever genuinely bought something with a fucking smile, just for you.

And you? The fuckin' nerve of you.

"-Not gotten that far and I---Hey? John? You there? Let’s, uh--"

John jerked Javier’s hand off his shoulder without a word and stormed toward his horse, the one he had just barely tied up.

Dumbasses. Couldn’t even notice you slipping out right under their noses. Sons of-

You couldn’t have gone far... And even if you have , let’s see how long that lasts.

The trail wasn't hard to follow.

John's horse snorted under him, restless from the pace he set, but he barely noticed. His eyes were locked dead ahead, jaw tight, heart hammering with something colder than fury.

And there, just up the road , he caught sight of you. Running like a scared animal and a sick smile tugged at his mouth.

You heard the hoofbeats, glancing back , terror flashing across your face , and bolted harder than you ever had in your life. Playing chase with your friends daily had given you some edge but not compared to a fucking horse.

And so John didn't rush. Didn't need to.

He swung the rope off his saddle, his movements practiced, mechanical. Let the lasso fly , a sharp snap of motion, and it looped tight around your ankles, yanking your legs out from under you.

The ground slammed into you hard, a ragged cry tearing from your throat as you hit the dirt and rolled, blood streaking your scraped palms and knees.

You lay there gasping, stunned, the rope biting into your ankles.

John dismounted slow, boots heavy against the ground. His shadow swallowed you whole as he loomed over your fallen body, rope still in hand.

"You done?" he muttered, voice low, almost casual.

You whimpered something, a plea, maybe, but he wasn’t listening. Didn't even glance at the blood or the way you were trembling.

He just yanked the rope tighter, binding your wrists next, hoisting you first by your hair and then dragging you over to the ride by your waist, dumping you like baggage over the saddle.

"Learned your lesson? Hm? Had fun? You brought this on yourself."

You twisted weakly, a pained noise escaping you, but he only tightened the knots, cinching them down hard. You weren't going anywhere now.

Without another word, he mounted up in front, the horse lurching forward under the weight.

And John rode back to camp with you tied and broken.

❀˖°

That night, the fire burned low.

The camp had gone quiet hours ago, but John sat awake, hunched over, a cigarette burning down to nothing between his fingers.

He hadn't touched his dinner.

Across the camp, you sat curled up small and stiff near the wagon, rope marks raw around your wrists, ankles dirtied with mud and blood.

No blanket. No food. No nothing.

Hadn't meant to... not like that.

He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, breathing slow and hard.

You brought this on yourself, he told himself again. You had to learn. Had to understand who you belonged to.

But the sight of you, small, shivering, miserable, burned behind his eyelids worse than any cigarette smoke.

❀˖°

Then morning came harsh and gray.

John watched from the edge of the tents, arms crossed, a sick feeling gnawing at his chest.

There you were, kneeling by the stream, scrubbing his clothes with raw, trembling hands.

Didn’t even look up. Didn’t ask for food. Didn’t say a goddamn word.

Mortified. Silent. Punished without him having to lift another finger.

John chewed on his cigarette, eyes narrowed, trying to ignore the pitiful sight. It’s for your own good, he told himself. She’ll learn. She has to.

But when he turned his gaze toward Annabelle, already packing up supplies, he couldn’t ignore the guilt pressing against his chest any longer.

"Annabelle," he muttered, barely looking at her. "Take this to her." He shoved a bundle of food into her hands, his tone clipped. "Give her something to eat."

Annabelle didn’t move right away. Instead, she stared at him, a quiet disbelief crossing her face. Her lips twisted in a sharp, almost pitying smile.

"You really can’t even do that much, can you?" Her voice was soft, but it cut through the tension like a knife. "Can’t even feed her, John?"

John’s jaw tightened, his eyes flickering away from her gaze. He could feel the weight of her words in his chest. She’s right, ain’t she? But he wasn’t ready to admit that, not yet.

"You’re always so damn proud," Annabelle continued, her voice laced with something close to disappointment. "But you don’t know the first thing about giving care. You think you’re teaching her a lesson, but all you're doing is hurting her. That's all what you've been doin'. "

John gritted his teeth. "I’m not asking for your judgment, Annabelle," he growled, his fists clenching at his sides.

Annabelle didn’t bother responding. With a shake of her head, she turned and walked toward you, carrying the food without a second glance back at him.

John stayed where he was, hands trembling ever so slightly. He watched her approach you, kneel beside you, and offer the food with a soft, maternal sympathy. The way you didn’t even look up, didn’t even make a sound , made his chest tighten.

It wasn’t like he didn’t want to fix things, but how the hell could he when everything he did seemed to make it worse?

Annabelle's insult hung in the air, suffocating him as much as the cold morning wind.

He couldn’t shake it off, couldn’t ignore the fact that maybe she was right.

❀˖°

John stared at the grass, his chest tight. He hadn’t eaten, hadn’t slept. The frustration, the anger, the guilt, it had all mixed together into a seething mess. He didn’t know what to do about it.

But he knew one thing. You were still his, and if he had to go through hell to make you understand that, he would.

He went for a walk that afternoon, or that’s what he told the others. Truth was, he was out looking for flowers. Real ones.

He walked slow, hands stuffed in his pockets, boots dragging a little in the dirt. Muttered half-hearted prayers under his breath.

Please let me find some, and don’t let the others catch me doin’ this.

Not that he was ashamed. Strangely, that part didn’t burn as much as it used to. Hell, if someone, especially someone like Sean or Javier, had told him a year ago he’d be out in the middle of nowhere pickin’ damn flowers for a woman, for you, he'd’ve laughed ‘til his ribs hurt. Told them they were outta their minds. That he ain’t the type.

But here he was.

And this time, it wasn’t just a gift. Not some mindless gesture to soothe a mood or pass the time.

It was an apology. A pathetic, clumsy one. One with petals and bruised stems.

John slowly approached the tent and entered with a heavy exhale.

Keep your temper under control, Marston.

You didn’t look up. You didn’t even flinch when he sat down next to you.

A long silence passed before he spoke, voice barely above a whisper.

"These are for you," he muttered, his fingers clumsy as he reached out with the new flower bracelets , carefully woven, colorful, fresh, and soft, their beauty a sharp contrast to the mess he’d created.

The air between you two felt thick with tension, suffocating in its awkwardness. He could feel his heart thumping in his chest, unsure of whether you would even take them , unsure if you would even look at him.

But he didn’t care. Not really.

John reached out, hesitating for only a moment before he gently placed the bracelets in your hands.

He watched you, waiting, his eyes lingering on the way you stared at the flowers, like they were some kind of foreign object. In the dim light, the flower bracelets looked even more fragile than he remembered , just like you.

And he hated himself for the way he’d treated you. Hated the way his actions had crushed everything. But he was yours, wasn’t he? You belonged to him.

You had to understand that he was doing all of this for you. He had to make you see that you couldn’t run. Not again.

He took your hands in his, his fingers rough as he forced the flower bracelets into your palms. "Put them on," he said, the words edging on demand, a finality to them.

You hesitated. But it didn’t matter. He wasn’t giving you a choice.

He waited for a moment, watching you carefully, then with a deep breath, he reached for your wrist, threading the flowers onto your skin. The fresh petals felt soft beneath his fingers as he secured the delicate bracelets in place, tightening them just enough for them to stay , a reminder, something to mark his control, even if it was subtle.

Once the bracelets were in place, he looked at you, his gaze lingering. A small, twisted satisfaction rose in his chest as he saw the flowers, bright and alive against your stillness.

But then his eyes fell to your bandages. They were stained, filthy from the dirt you’d been washing clothes in. His eyes narrowed, a mix of annoyance and something darker flickering in his chest.

He didn’t say anything before moving behind you. You flinched when he touched your shoulder, but he ignored it, grabbing the old bandages with rough hands.

"These need to come off," he muttered, voice barely above a whisper. There was no kindness in his touch, only the cold, distant practicality of someone who wanted to fix things his way.

You didn’t protest. You didn’t look at him. Just sat there, hunched and silent, as he undid the old bandages, his fingers rough, not giving you any space to pull away.

The air between you two was thick, as if the very act of tending to you , taking care of your wounds, was somehow suffocating in its intimacy. John worked methodically, his gaze flickering to your injuries, his movements sharp as he cleaned the cuts. He didn’t speak, didn’t apologize. Just worked, as if it was something he had to do, as if you were just another thing to fix.

Once the new bandages were in place, John stepped back slightly, his gaze still lingering on you , watching you, studying the way you held yourself.

"You’ll be alright," he muttered as soft as he could and urged you to lay down.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, John moved, sprawling out beside you on the rough blankets, his body close enough to make you feel his presence , hard, immovable, suffocating.

His eyes flickered to you, the quiet in the tent almost too much to bear. Your back was turned to him, your body stiff, but he knew you were still awake. He could hear the soft sound of your breathing, shallow and uneven.

"You think this is some game?" He shifted slightly, rolling onto his side to face you, his gaze cold and focused. "You think you can just run away from me like that? Like, I wouldn’t find you? And after all this time, you really pulled off this dumb move?"

He lets out a bitter laugh , dry, hollow. There’s no real humor in it, only that quiet fury of someone who’s been betrayed and won’t admit he had it coming.

“You should’ve known better,” he says, voice tightening.

His words linger, sharp and ugly in the dim light. He rubs a hand across his face, clearly tired, but not from remorse. "I-- I’m tryin’, damn it. I really am. I don’t know how to... do this nicely. But I’m here, providing you with everything that I can. Stay out huntin' all day to keep you fed, for fur to keep you warm, so that hag Susan don't taunt you all day cuz' of my laziness, I keep myself busy. So she doesn't put the burden on ya'. You think that doesn’t mean nothin’?"

Silence.

You don’t say anything for a beat too long, and he hates it. Hates your silence, hates your shaking shoulders, hates how far away you still feel even though you’re just inches from him.

Finally, you whisper, not looking at him, "Y-ou... hurt me."

It’s not said with drama. It’s just truth.

His nostrils flare. He hates how it makes something twist in his chest.

“I told you not to act like some runaway animal, princess,” he snaps, deflecting. “Doesn’t suit you.”

“You tied me like one,” you bite out, finally turning to face him, eyes glassy but furious. “Dragged me through mud. Left me with nothing but scraps of bandage and dirty water. You think that suits me? Not to mention how you ruined my life, brought me here like an animal! And..." You back away, not being able to form his actions into a coherent sentence.

His head snaps at you, and for a moment, maybe he doesn’t even recognize himself.

“You don’t get it,” he says tightly. “You just… keep pushin’ me.”

"You.... scare me, John."

That silences him more than anything.

He breathes out slowly, looking past you now, voice flat. “We shoulda' had a kid by now.”

You recoil. "That’s not something you just say to fix things."

"I ain’t tryin’ to fix it with words, sweetheart," he mutters. "I just… I don’t know what else to do with you. You’re always runnin’. Always lookin’ at me like I’m somethin’ awful. At least you would some something better to do other than sitting and dwelling over these fantasies of yours!

"Maybe stop being awful," you whisper.

His eyes darken instantly.

He jerks upright, looming over you now, and the tenderness from seconds ago vanishes like smoke.

"That right?" he spits. "That all it takes, huh? I just stop bein’ awful and suddenly you don’t look at me like I’m the devil? Like you didn’t just lie to my face and sneak off when I ain't here huh?"

You shrink back, but he’s already lost to it, the storm breaking open inside him.

"You think this is easy for me? You think I like draggin’ you back like that? In front of others? You think I wanted to hurt you?"

He laughs, sharp and broken, more angry at himself than you, but it doesn’t make it any less terrifying.

"I am awful," he growls. “I ain’t like those soft boys you dream of. I don’t know how to be that. But I keep tryin’. I keep buyin’ you those damn flowers, and beggin’ the same woman who raised me to feed you ‘cause I’m too pissed to do it myself!”

He grips your wrist then, tight enough to make your breath hitch. “You wanna say somethin’ real? Then say this, would you rather I leave you? Huh? Would you rather I let you go to your daddy? Or let some other man find you, maybe treat you ‘better’, hm?"

He leans in, his voice low and venomous now.

"'Cause let me tell you, sweetheart, he wouldn’t get the chance."

Silence falls like a knife between you.

His grip finally loosens, but his eyes never leave yours.

"Now say it again," he hisses. "Go on. Say I’m awful."

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. Just the shaky sound of your breath.

He stares at you, wild-eyed, chest heaving, waiting.

But when you don’t speak?

He erupts.

"SAY IT AGAIN!" he roars, the words crashing through the tent like thunder. "Say it to my face, damn you, woman!"

You flinch hard, shoulders jerking up, eyes wide, lips parting with a soundless breath. But you don’t say a word.

He sees it.

The way you’re trembling. The way you’re really scared of him now. As if he's death himself. Not just angry. Not annoyed. Not defiant.

Scared.

"...Goddamn it," he mutters hoarsely, turning away like he can’t stand to see what he’s done.

He's fucking done it again. Lost control. That's the only thing he seems to be good at.

Fuck. Fuck. FUCK IT. I AM pathetic.

And still, you say nothing. Just sniffles and bearly audible whimpers.

You don’t move. Don't argue. Don’t scream. Just sit there, small, still, and broken in the quiet.

He stays facing away, his jaw clenched, fists curled at his sides.

"...Yeah," he mutters, quieter now. "That’s what I thought."

But the venom’s gone. Now it just sounds tired. Hollow.

"And as for the kid..." His voice sliced through the silence, bitter and low. "I’ve watched you bleed for weeks now. Never a scrap of life to show for it. Can’t grow a damn thing."

You flinched like the words struck skin. "Stop it. Please. Stop talking." Your voice broke as you turned your face into the pillow. He can't get more selfish and vile than this.

He hates what he's done almost as much as he hates that perhaps nothing can make you love him back. He let out a dry, mocking breath. "Oh yeah, of course. Reckon that's my fault too, huh?"

And maybe it was.

Maybe it wasn’t.

But the thought, the possibility, of his body failing at that...made something gnarl up behind his ribs.

His teeth ground together, jaw stiffening against a rage he couldn’t name. Not at you , not entirely. At the loss. At the silence.

He laid back with a sharp exhale and reached for you, fingers curling possessively around your waist. You didn’t resist, too tired to pull away. His body was warm against your back, firm, immovable.

He breathed in your scent , soap, tears, the faintest sweetness of crushed flowers.

His hand threaded into your hair. The motion was awkward at first, hesitant, but it grew slower, more deliberate. A mockery of comfort. Or maybe the only way he knew how to give it.

You hiccupped through a broken breath, still turned away.

Beneath the covers, tucked against your wrist, the new flower bracelets, jasmine, white and small, lay cool against your skin. He had fastened them there without a word, just after changing your bandages with startling care. You hadn’t dared take them off.

They smelled like innocence. Like a peace that didn’t exist here.

"You’re not gonna run again, right? You better not. Stop with this childish behaviour."

What the hell are you supposed to answer to that? Of course you want to...

His breath slowed behind you, quieter now, no longer sharp with anger. Just heavy. Weighted. His hand never left your hair, brushing through it like he was trying to memorize the strands, as if that could anchor him, anchor you , to the moment.

"You think I don’t see it?" he murmured after a while, his voice quieter now, tired. "How you flinch when I raise my voice. How you don’t eat right. How you look at me like I’m..." He trailed off, the words crumbling in his mouth.

His fingers drifted down, ghosting over the curve of your shoulder, then the bandaged part of your arm, careful now. Like he remembered, suddenly, how hurt you were. "I shouldn’t’ve let you go hungry today. That wasn’t right. M'sorry, really sorry."

The tent was full of his guilt, it was echoing back at him.

"The other day...when I took you town you looked real pretty...you always do...I mean--and then yesterday I saw some...bracelets at the stall , reminded me of you...in the white dress and....."

He paused, his hand caressing your wrists, where the newer ones , jasmine this time , still clung, slightly crushed from how tightly he’d held you earlier.

"Well, you weren't here. But these...I made em' myself...Sat out by the fire like some fool stringin’ flowers together. Just so you'd have somethin’ soft."

He let out a breath, lips pressing gentle kisses at the back of your neck as he drew closer, pulling you flush against him under the blankets. You could feel the warmth of his chest at your back, the steady, stubborn thrum of his heart.

"Ain’t askin’ you to forgive me tonight," he whispered, pressing his forehead to your shoulder. "Just... don’t stop wearin’ ‘em, princess. Please."

His arms tightened slightly around you, a silent apology carved in touch.

You didn't answer, but you didn’t push him away either. And for now, that was enough for him.

In the quiet tent, the jasmine bracelets lay cool against your skin, petals barely clinging , delicate, fragrant things made by rough hands. A soft offering from a man who didn’t know how to be gentle… but was still trying.

taglist: @littlebirdgot @captainyeiyei @hyunnjiin @loverssickness @honeybunny75

[ak319]

…

it never crossed my mind that luthera would be unfaithful to us..

so we weren't her first kiss? i hate her (i can’t ilv my intense woman:c)

😔😔 Well...it be like that smtimes. btw what does ilv mean? didn't get the last line😭 also dw she doesn't love that random woman , u can say she's just a means to keep reader off her mind or in some cases she imagines reader being in that woman's place when shes yknow... ;))

[ak319]

you can’t tell me that luthera’s end didn’t turn her into some crazy fucked up villain, i can’t be the only one who felt the vibe, c’mon. 

also, i was curious to know which house luthera went to; “Then why did you hear about the rumor that she goes to some house on some nights? Mhm. It could be just a relative or friend. Or maybe she wants to keep her lover hidden”. does she have a family or something?

ugh i loved that fic with every cell of my being you have no idea. your imagination is so cool.

will she come back someday? i hope so

Tyysmm for the ask love, so lets cover ur 3 points.

Yeah , her turning into a villain is kinda bomb. I didn't think of that. what I had in mind was that she swears of everything like...retires and lives in some village in a cottage lol. but imagine her being a villian and when reader is tasked to go fight along with her soldiers (maybe its been years and ofc she has more power due to being the literal daughter in law of Queen.) And so lo and behold , the villian and causer of destruction is none other than Ironside , whose WAITING FOR HER AND THEN ITS A MENTOR X STUDENT FIGHT SCENE RAWJDISIKS anyway and then preferably ironside gets the upper hand and either kills the reader then herself cuz she's had enough and can't handle the longing orrrr...just holds reader's ppl hostage or smth for her to surrender and live with her.

As for that house...well that was actually Luthera visiting her...lover as in some other woman and she was obviously keeping it hidden , she was kinda taking out her frustration and was like...testing what she felt for reader with the other gal back at that house. ifykyk. so yeah.

As for writing more of her , except for u pooks and few others who loved it, it had flopped so Imma be honest I forgot bout it and have no plans and also it wasn't my original idea anyway , the whole oc was based on an ask which..I think..and btw I talked bout this topic in rules so u can check it out. but since she's an official oc so u can ask questions bout her and as ofc asks r open and u can hop in anytime but as for writing ideas on my own bout her , I can't say for sure because I'm already held up by 2 fics . But I REALLY LOVE PPL asking BOUT OCS, SINCE I GET NO ASKS BOUT MY BABIES😭😭😭😭

[ak319]

can't wait to write on them-- (no finish the unfinished ones first u fool)

[ak319]

...

So like would anyone like to be tagged for Word of Claim scenarios and stuff for John?? comment below <3

[ak319]

My children are starving. They cry themselves to sleep every night— not because they’re tired, but because they are hungry.

There is no food to give them. No clean water. No medicine. No way to keep them safe.

I am a mother in Gaza. I have nothing left but my words, and I am using them now to beg you:

Please. Help us. Feed us. Save us. Don’t let my children be next.

Donate whatever you can. A small act of kindness can keep a child alive another day.

Please Donate now:👇👇 👇

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✅️My campaign is vetted by el-shab-hussein& Nabulsi's, my number verified on the list is ( #355)✅️ 👇

https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/u/0/d/1yYkNp5U3ANwILl2MknJi9G7ArY4uVTEEQ1CVfzR8Ioo/htmlview

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[ak319]

Hi, I hope you don't mind, but when will we get an update on your Yandere Arthur story? I hope you're doing well. :)

haii. thank u sm for asking <3. im good if good includes dealing with guests that came to stay for days (still here btw) and college projects and assignments lined up this week along with finals peeping at me tauntingly from the corner of June. so yeah...I'm good. its always good to know that ppl love that story. I never expected it to be that liked, tbh so it is always a breath of fresh air to see the anticipation. I don't have a fixed schedule when it comes to posting. even after I plan it , it gets ruined cuz my routine has become hectic. college does that to u. but I'm trying and hopefully you'll get the next chap soon.

[ak319]

Hii, I just wanted to ask how did you change your text colors to be mixed like that?

I simply used stuffbydavid.com/textcolourizer for choosing the colours/effect styles/fonts and stuff and then simply copying the html code and paste it on tumblr. In your tumblr post you gotta go to ur post settings and go to text editor and change rich text option to html and then paste the code. As for the signs/emojis you can add them only in the html code on tumblr not at the colourizer site. They don't let you colour them. Hope it helps.

[ak319]

...

word of claim , Arthur’s version is on my wattpad (Luluu453), guys. u can check it out. though only 3 chaps r uploaded, I think. so yeah.

[ak319]

this is my side blog in case I get lost, guys😔🤌 so u know where to find me. will also post yan/dark/lovesick themes content there, of course. Got a lot of ideas piled up, too.

boo.