#WEEPS CRIES Honey my beloved

[just-some-random-blogger]

The Salt In My Blood

You were the beloved Jewel of the Realm, the youngest Targaryen born to Alyssa and Baelon. Though your nature resembled more a lamb rather than a dragon, you posed a threat at court, for a single word out of your mouth inspired a thousand actions from The King and The Rogue Prince. Thus, your match with the Lord of the Iron Islands.

Daemon Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader x Dalton Greyjoy | 6k+ | cw: fem!reader, targcest (sister!reader), reader has valyrian features (silver hair, violet eyes), power imbalance, graphic depictions of violence/assault/murder/death, canon divergence/inaccurate timelines, ye old misogyny, fuckedupedness of men, smut (dub con, loss of virginity, piv, biting, marking, breeding kink, corruption kink, baby trapping, cockwarming, cunnilingus), internet translated high valyrian, angst, social commentary, typos, etc.

A/N: !!mind the warnings!! This is really yucky because it is. all men do is hurt women. Also I did basic research for Dalton Greyjoy and just used him cuz I needed a character. idk what he's actually like and I'm 99% sure this timeline doesn't add up so, just roll w it ok? Ok. If my internet translated high valyrian sucks, well, it be like that. And surprise surprise i made another song for a fic because i should make use of my music degree while im jobless 💔 my heart goes out to @arabellasleopardcoat because her fic capital really poked my brain and got me fired up enough to write/create again, even if just for this fic. i love you.

Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @sloanexx @delicious-xx @deniixlovezelda @targaryenmoony @risefallrise @thebullship @sa3losa @sloanexx @azperja @happilyhertale

Father, father, shining star, save my brother from the war. Mother, mother, hold me close. I fear brother won't come home. So, I pray, night and day, I do my duty here. Find me, oh [a] husband, so fierce with not a fear. Father, father hears my prayer. Mother, mother dries my tears. All my strife ends tonight for my husband's here.

"But what if someone sees," you whisper.

Daemon clutches your hand tighter as you hurry down the hall. He looks over to you, your expression matches your shaky voice.

Perhaps, had the conditions been different, he'd be softened by your words. The ferocity of his protectiveness would have made him stop in his footsteps and clutch your cheek. Perhaps he would have promised to safeguard you.

But these conditions did not elicit such urges from him. No. It stoked the fires bacchanal in his gut. The stolen taste of your honeyed lips in the garden was not enough.

Daemon finally brings his darling sister into his bedroom, and there, he answers you, "who would dare spy on the king's heir, the prince of the realm?"

Your breath quickens at the sound of your brother locking the door.

The prince of the realm stalks over to you, a dragon gazing upon a meek lamb.

Again, you whisper, "what if someone finds out?"

Daemon could growl. He almost did as he grabs your waist and sinks his head into the crook of your tender neck. You don't even react when he does this, save for your gasp.

Oh, how like you, how docile and doe-like, never one to raise your voice, or fight back, especially not with him.

"Let them find out, sister," he claws your clothing, "then they will not steal you from me."

You are so pliant as he squeezes you, so soft as he roughs you back to his bed. You let him handle you like he did your dolls growing up. He treated them with less than a quarter of the gentleness you would,; they'd end up tattered and broken because of him by the end of your playing session, much to your heartbreak.

Though you cried about it, you never once held it against him, because each time, Daemon would wipe your tears and apologize. He liked breaking your dolls. He liked being your comfort.

He knew without a sliver of doubt you'd let him do the same to your body. You'd let him break you, then kiss the tears off your cheeks. You'd let him, for he was your star, and you were his doll.

Daemon presses you beneath him. He lays you down where he sleeps. He kisses you, the way he has sometimes imagined he would while touching himself, or while in the arms of another. His long, silver hair falls cascades down his shoulder, joining your long, silver hair that's spilled on his pillows.

For so long, he's denied himself of you, because you were too pure, too darling to be tainted.

You whimper as he pushes your skirts up, bunching them by your ribs.

But now, it's all different.

His mouth suckles his way to your neck.

"Daemon."

Now, it's not about denial. It's about what's right. It's about what you deserve.

"Daemon-" you whimper when he reaches into the waistband of your smallclothes, "-wait."

He breathes hotly against your jaw. His hands grab your knees and parts them for himseld

You push his shoulders back, catching his attention. He is displeased, and not even your glassy eyes could quell it. He warns you with an annoyed sound.

You gulp but mutter anyway, "this is wrong."

"Wrong?!" snaps he.

You tense at his anger, yet even then, you caress his cheek gently, "I am to be married to Lord Dalton Greyjoy."

"And you would have me believe you want him?" Daemon quips, "that you do not want me?"

You push yourself up on your elbows. Tears begin to spill down the corner of your eyes, "Daem-"

"Why do you think I am doing this?" He pushes himself against your core.

You whimper at the contact. He is hard.

He grabs your wrists and pins them to your sides, "I do this for your sake, little girl. To save you from your prison."

You gulp and blink rapidly, your silver lashes lace with tears.

The slightest semblance of remorse flashes on your brother's face.

With your head lifted, you watch as Daemon brings his hands to your ankles instead. He rids you of your shoes and chucks them over his shoulder.

Slowly, he strips you naked until you are left in nothing but the jewelry and the stockings he bought you one before.

You cover your breasts, and he lets you while he kneads at your slightly parted thighs.

His eyes are glued on your womanhood, on the curls that don't see the light of day and the flesh that's never been touched by a man.

Daemon clenches his jaw as his fingers inspect the heat there. The two digits find molten wetness flooding your entrance. You make a breathless sound and squeeze your thighs, trying, with pointless effort, to stop him. His eyes flick to your face, the look of embarrassment, of shock, of pleasure visible to him. He debates forcing your legs.

He licks his you-coated fingers and tuts instead, "open."

You look at him, your Daemon, with the faint line between his brows. You close your mouth and lick your lips. Your hands find their way back to your breasts.

The sight is maddening, especially with how the jewel of your necklace looks between the squished mount of flesh.

"Open," he commands with less patience.

Daemon watches his darling princess part her legs for him. His trousers strain more than it did already.

He watches you closely and motions with a finger, "those too."

You do not immediately comply. In fact, you look at Daemon with pleading eyes. He raises his brows at your bratty demeanor, and shakes his head, "are you disobeying me?"

You see the threat in his eyes.

"Kessa nyke mazverdagon ao rūnagon aōha dīnagon?" Shall I make you remember your place?

You shake your head and pipe softly, "daor." No.

Finally, you reveal your breasts to him.

He smirks, "good girl."

Your brother kneads your delicate flesh and grinds his clothed groin against your weeping cunt. The sound you emit makes the feel of the clothes on his skin unbearable.

His grabs your hands and places them on his waistband. He looks down at you as he rids himself of his top. By the time his burning chest is free, you've gotten half the wits to undo his breeches.

His eyes don't leave you as he takes off his shoes.

You timidly pull his pants down, sitting up slightly as you do. You make a soft sound when his manhood flings free. Daemon shoves you back and does the rest himself.

"Daemon. I don't think-"

Your voice is crushed by the feel of his cock sliding into you. A rush of heat ripples through your body. He leans down and kisses your shoulder as you whine.

"Enough," he pants. He uses all his restraint not to fuck you dumb then and there. He grabs your thighs, pressing them into your chest. He can feel your tension. If he fucks you now, he could leave you unable to walk straight. But as sweet as that sounds, he doesn't actually want to hurt you, not that way.

Daemon sinks down to your jugular and kisses you there before he brings his hungry mouth to your breast. He sucks and nips, imagining it being heavy with milk for his babe, the babe he'd put into your belly.

The thought makes his moan and rut his hips.

You make a strained sound and your hands to push his arms. You call his name again, soft and shaky.

Daemon tries to ignore you, his hand coming to your lonely breast on the other side, but the persistent call of his name makes his sigh.

He lightly grazes your nipple before he releases your flesh. He trails kisses up your skin until he lands on your face, your face, which was now wet with salt.

"You need to relax. Mmm?" he coos, kissing your lips, "skoro syt gaomagon ao limagon? Hm?" Why do you cry?

You adjust beneath him, repositioning your thighs, digging your fingers into his nape. You whimper, "lēkia."

Daemon's belly burns. Look at you, crying for your older brother.

"Kessa, ñuha hāedar?" Yes, my little sister?

"Iksan zūgagon," you mutter, tears streaming down your temples. Your nails scratch up his scalp. I am afraid.

Daemon, selfish as he is, does not like the fact that leaves your lips. His brows furrow. He rubs your thighs in an attempt to comfort you. He kisses the corner of your lips, "hen lēkia?" Of your older brother?

You shake your head quickly, rubbing your thumb on his jaw.

His brows furrow tighter. His hold on your thigh tightens, "hen bona Āegenka Āzma?" Of that Iron Born?

You stay still. You take a moment before mumbling, "Viserys said I should marry him for my own good-"

"Fuck that cunt Viserys," he spits angrily.

Your lips quiver.

The anger in Daemon's chest dissipates as you rub the deep line between his brows. He props himself up, sinking a hand by the side of your head. He looks down at you.

"You cannot protect me forever," you whisper, finally relaxing beneath him.

Daemon watches as you lick your lips.

You gulp, "I am a Targaryen princess. I have duties to the realm, to my family."

"Your duty is with me," he grabs your hand, bringing it to his chest.

Your violet eyes sparkle as you examine his features. You tuck the long tresses that block his face behind his ear. Your belly ignites at the fierce beauty of your beloved brother.

"I burn for you," Daemon says, "I know that you burn for me."

"But Daemon-"

The gentle thrust of his hips stifle your words.

"Enough," Daemon repeats this time softer, head sinking back into the crook of your neck, "you have always belonged to me, and you know it."

You whimper and instinctively mold your body against him. Your legs tighten around his torso as his thrusts grow more and more confident.

Daemon kisses you, delighting in the gasp you give when he plays with your pearl. He muffling the sound of your mewls with his mouth.

"They insult us all by daring to mix dragon blood with fucking sea squid," he pants, "you were meant to carry my seed, be my bride."

You moan, feeling a foreign force in your belly.

"I will not let that sewer monster be the one to make you a woman," Daemon licks a stripe up your neck.

You tangle your fingers into the roots of his hair, "Daemon."

His nails scratch up your sides, "twas I that watched you blossom into womanhood, tis I that should be the one to take it."

Neither of you speak after he says this. You both simply whimper, wordlessly agreeing your bodies were made for each other.

The prince had not a single care in the world. He urges you to scream out to him with the flick of his pelvis. He didn't care if anyone could hear, neither did he care that anyone would see the viscious marks he was leaving all over your throat.

You were better than he had ever imagined, and he was determined to make you his. He was intent on emptying his balls in you, over and over again, until you could take no more, until you were too exhausted to leave, until your body had no other choice but to carry him a child.

And when he finally does spill into you, coming with a grunt and a soft, "you're mine," you, the virgin princess finally understand the fuss over sex, and reply to him with an, "I love you."

Daemon fucks you until his bed is soiled with a mix of your come. He fucks you until every minute movement from him makes you shiver and whine. He fucks you until your skin is marked with tender bites. He fucks you until you beg for respite, and then he keeps himself inside you after.

You were a worn little thing, and yet you managed to have the energy to still cling to him as you dozed off.

He kisses your temple and sleeps soundly, knowing he's done it; he's made you his. That was irrefutable. Only a madman would deny him of you now. He basks in the pleasure of your body, and in the knowledge his baby sister so wholeheartedly trusted in him to let him do this.

One can only imagine, then, the mortified horror you felt when you were given to Lord Greyjoy anyway.

This was not part of the plan. You were meant to meet Daemon. He told you you were going to speak to the king together, and yet here your eldest brother was, ushering you towards your captor-husband to be.

"My princess," Dalton says, reaching a hand to you.

You stare at his glimmering eyes, finding nothing but malice and lust behind them. You turn to your brother for help. You do not want to touch this man.

Viserys offers you none and looks away. It hurts when he does so, especially since he does so with such apparently scorn. He smiles at the man, "greet your lord. You will soon be wed to him, sister."

You muster enough artificial interest to smile and take the man's hand. Goosebumps form on your skin when he kisses the back of your hand.

He notices and chuckles, rubbing where he kissed, "such demureness. Do not be frightened of me, my dragon. I would not hurt such a pretty thing."

You clasp your hands together after he releases you.

"Not unless you ask," he adds, bursting into a laugh.

Neither you or Viserys return the amusement. In fact, the latter's face contorts at the distasteful joke. His nostrils flare, "you dare jest such uncouth things in front of your king?"

Dalton Greyjoy is unbothered, but stifles his laughter. He clears his throat and bows, "my apologies, my king. Tis the Ironborn in me. I cannot help my nature, much like you cannot help yours."

You feel light headed the entirety of this interaction. The room feels like it was closing in on you, and you kept glancing at the door, praying that your other brother free you from this torment.

He does not do so. He does not come. In fact, you do not see Daemon anywhere the entire day.

Dalton keeps you by his side, taking your arm in his as he makes you stroll him around the Red Keep. You do so, of course, no matter how strong the urge to run away and hide from him was. The entire time, Dalton recounts his stories of battle, his stories at sea, his stories of life. He's sincere enough, but you are not interested in the slightest.

"I think you'd enjoy the feel of sea salt against your skin, just as much you enjoy the whip of the clouds," he grins with genuine enthusiasm.

Any response you have is put out by his next words.

"I can introduce you to my salt-wives."

"Salt-wives?"

"Aye," he says proudly, "I'd say I have about twenty, but I cannot assure you its accuracy."

You are horrified. Finally, you have the gall to pull away, "what?"

Dalton chuckles, somehow amused, but his brows furrow, as if irritated, "we Ironborn keep salt wives in our ships, to give us comfort and warmth when the sea gets too rough. Is this princess so sheltered to not know this?"

You curdle when he reaches for your neck.

"You needn't be jealous. You'd be my one and only rock wife."

You scowl at his condescending tone, "I thought that was just a wives' tale."

He laughs. It is rich, amused, and foreboding. He shakes his head, "it's about as much of a wives' tale as your dragons are, princess."

Later that night, you weep at the king's feet, begging him not to marry you off to such a man.

Viserys does not hear it, and it is only then that Daemon finally appears.

When he does, it's as if the gods themselves breathed life into you. Quickly, you run into him and sob into his chest.

Daemon holds you tightly and glares at the king, "what have you done to her?"

Viserys scoffs. The dark room, illuminated only by the fireplace and a few lit candles, feels to him like it's darkened because of Daemon. He shifts where he sits, "I? I found her a husband."

Daemon's eye twitches, "you gave her to me! You said it just this morning."

You look up at Daemon, hopeful at the sound of his words.

"I said I would think about it once you report your patrol at the City Watch to me."

Daemon releases you to impose on his brother, "I kept your city clean from crimes and safe for the people."

"And where did you go after?" Viserys narrows his eyes.

You rub your arms as you watch your brothers argue.

Daemon does not respond.

Viserys turns to you, "tell your beloved sister where you went after your patrols."

Daemon does not move.

Your chest tightens at the silence, "... Daemon."

The said man opens his mouth, "I went to get a dri-"

"A whorehouse!" Viserys blurts, rising from his seat to glare at Daemon. He turns back to you, pushing past him, "I would know. I paid every whore in Fleabottom to seduce him."

Your heart leaps into your mouth, "w-what?"

Daemon is stunned.

"See now," Viserys is close enough to clutch your cheeks, "your beloved brother is a man like all the rest. No more is the dragon righteous than the kraken."

Your eyes begin to fog with tears. Your hands begin to tremble. Why was he doing this to you?

"Greyjoy is no less a dog than the rest of us. He at least, is honoring a tradition. Daemon honors only his cock."

You turn to Daemon, hoping to find this was not the case, but his expression says it all. Youlet a pained whimper, "you teach me so cruelly, brother."

"I teach you," he swipes your tears with his thumbs, "for your own good."

"You fucking--"

You scream in terror as Daemon lunges at Viserys. You reel back and watch as the two crash down to the floor, the younger of the two finding the upper hand. They roughly struggle against each other.

It only takes another scream from you, begging them to stop, for the kingsguards to burst into the room.

You can no longer stay screaming when Daemon grabs Viserys by the collar and slams him repeatedly against the ground, especially not when Viserys claws at Daemon's face to get him off. You dash forward just as the guards order the prince to stop.

You grab Daemon's arm, and out of instinct, he swats you back, hand hitting your nose with rage powered force.

You shoot back into a kingsguard, feeling your face throb in pain.

It takes Viserys screaming your name for Daemon to stop.

The impact of hitting the armored man makes your back twinge, but it does not hurt nearly as much as the back handed hit you received from your brother.

The kingsguard catches you and stands you upright. He quickly asks if you are alright, but doesn't wait for an answer because he then shoves Daemon back, putting himself between him and you when he tries to come near.

Daemon glares in offence.

"Throw him in the fucking dungeon," Viserys spits out as he is helped up by another guard.

Daemon fights back, but is no match against three guards.

He screams your name as he is dragged off.

You clutch your face as he tells you he didn't mean to hit you. You face throbs as he tells you he loves you, and only you.

For once, you doubt his words.

Viserys comes to your side, placing a gentle hand in your shoulder. You watch as he commands a servant to get something for your hit.

He clutches your cheek that was struck and sighs, "if you wed the Red Kraken, you will strengthen our hold on the Iron Lands. Dalton Greyjoy is a formidable warrior. I couldn't think of a more capable man to safekeep the Jewel of the Realm."

As he stroked your hair, you realized that Viserys was right. It didn't matter who it was, all men were the same. When your septa warned you of men's depravity, you believed your brothers to be the exception. Now, you knew exactly why you were called-

"Little lamb," Viserys coos, "I only want what is best for all of us."

You were too naive to believe in good things.

And so you marry Dalton Greyjoy the next day.

The haste with which the wedding is prepared is to prevent you from changing your mind, you figured. That, and to keep Daemon in prison for the least amount of time.

Part of you wanted to visit him, but part of you wanted him to suffer. In the end, you realized you were too weak to behold your brother as a prisoner.

Daemon screams and bangs at his bars, demanding he be released. But the prison guards have handled worse and throw cold water at him to shut him up.

He knew by the time he was free, he would be too late to stop your marriage, but still, he meticulously planned what he would do the moment he was.

That night, after the wedding festivities were over, Dalton takes you to your room and makes you his wife.

"It's been a while since I've had a virgin," Dalton says, caressing your cheek, "don't worry, I will be gentle."

You want to scream, you want tofight him back, but you remember you're not a virgin, and fear paralyzes you. You mumble, "m-my dragon riding."

Dalton pushes back bour silver hair and kisses your shoulder.

You can't help but think of Daemon in this moment, but it makes you feel sick, and so you will him out of your head. You mumble again, "my dragon riding may taken my womanhood."

Dalton pulls away and stares at you for a moment.

"I- I was told as a child, it happened to many Targaryen princesses."

He pulls his hands, which were on your hips, away then shoves you down on your bed. He smirks as he undoes his clothing, "then I can be rough with you, aye?"

You quiver at his gaze.

He laughs, shaking his head, "didn't I say I would not hurt you? Unless under your request?"

You push inch back as he crawls over. He grabs your ankle, then the other, causing you to panic. You instinctively kick him off, but instead of being deterred, he is excited.

"Sh, sh, sh," he hushes, "it will not be unpleasant, my dragon."

Your skin pricks with gooseflesh when he removes your shoes, your socks, and sneaks his hand up your skirt.

You whimper and turn away, finding you could no longer kick back when he seizes your knees.

"Please-"

"Shhh," he hushes, giving you the first solemn look he has this entire day he's been smug, "I've had much practice from my salt wives. You, my rock wife, will taste the fruits of my practice... as I taste you."

You gasp when he suddenly rips your underwear off.

" I swear to you, your body will enjoy it, even if your mind wants you to believe otherwise."

You muffle your mouth with your palm when you feel Dalton sink in between your thighs.

He was right.

The entire time he touches you, it feels like your skin was being scorched. Your heart was not in it, but your body twisted in pleasure. You hated that you longed for Daemon, even after the fact you were not enough for him; he was still the only one you still, and this moment proved it.

You were brought to tears at how pathetic it was. Tears streamed as you reached your peak, one of the many you receive from your... husband.

He handled you with carnal instinct, just as Daemon did, but unlike him, Dalton did not kiss your tears. In fact, he did not kiss your face once. It is you that initiates such a thing, amidst the throes of your lewd pleasure. He grabs your jaw when your lips connect, and quickly releases his load into you after.

Your peak is cut short because he pulls out just when you reach it.

You watch as he rolls over and goes to sleep without another word.

The next morning, the servants call you Princess Greyjoy and it haunts you.

"No need to look so sullen, wife," you hear over your shoulder.

If the cold from the early morning wasn't enough to make you shiver, the kiss on your shoulder was.

The ship rocks as you tear your gaze away from King's Landing, King's Landing that looked so tiny now from where you stood. A sea of tears laid between you and the home that will never be yours again. You turn to Dalton. He leans his elbows on the edge of the ship and looks up at you, "we can do many things to liven your mood."

You watch him as he rubs your hips. Your stomach curdles but you manage to offer a smile, "I... am flattered, but I do not want to distract the captain of this ship."

Dalton chuckles and straightens up, "trust me. The crew would appreciate it if you did."

You squeak when he yanks you into him.

"Right boys?!" he calls loudly, "shall I make a salt wife out of my rock wife?!"

The crew cheers and it makes your skin burn in mortification.

The next thing you know, you are thrown over his shoulder. He slaps your ass and takes you to his quarters. The crew laughs as he does.

You helplessly grunt when he drops you on his bed-- your shared bed. You silently peer up at him as he stares at you. You are releived he paces across the room, towards his table. He grabs something and chucks it at you. You flinch but manage to catch it.

He sits on the table as you inspect the pouch. You open it, finding herbs inside.

"I heard you've been drinking that," he says.

You look up at him.

"Haven't you?" he asks.

You smell it and wretch. It smells exactly like-

"Moon tea," Dalton says, making your blood run cold, "for the bastard in your belly.*

You are frozen in your spot. Your stomach drops when he stands and walks over. He grabs your chin. It is not harsh, but it strikes fear in you anyway.

"I asked you a question, wife."

You open your mouth, but no words come out.

"HAVE YOU BEEN TAKING THE FUCKING TEA OR NOT?" he screams, grabbing your neck.

Your hands fly to his grip. Your fingers attempt to pry him away.

You wheeze when he squeezes you. Your flail your legs and try to kick him off. You can't. Just as your vision begins to go dark, he releases you. You fall onto the bed and frantically try to catch your breath. You cough and hear him smash things around the room.

As so you behold the man who said he would not hurt you unless you asked him, brutalize the furniture.

You think your chances are better in the sea rather than on this boat. You slowly maneuver towards the door while he is distracted. Just as you are about to sprint, he grabs you and throws you back down on his bed.

"You stupid slut!" he screams, "you think you can run?!

You try to scream for help, but the pain in your throat when you try to stops you. Not a second later, you scream anyway.

He slaps you across the face, promptly silencing you. The sting is ten times worse than what Daemon did.

"I was promised a Targaryen princess, not some whore of a dragon!" he screams, kicking the chair by his desk across the room. He laughs angrily, shaking his head, "dragon riding, my arse."

Your heart drops as he storms over, "who's the father of your bastard child?!"

Indistinguishable sounds leave your lips.

"ANSWER ME!" he demands, grabbing your shoulders, dragging you to your feet. Your head recoils at the sheer force of it. You take a moment to steady your head.

Your eyes search Dalton's enraged features, hoping to chance upon a sliver of compassion... in vain. The sound that leaves your mouth is response to the bruising squeeze of your arms. You cannot help but whimper as tears stream down your cheeks, "you're hurting me."

He is further angered by this. He gives you a powerful shake. Your head lashes back again and you scream.

"Give me a name!" erupts the lord.

You no longer have it in you to hold your tongue, and so you confess, "Daemon!"

Dalton releases you. He is repulsed, "your brother?" He scoffs, "you revolting, little worm," he slaps you across the face, making you lose your balance.

Before you crash into anything, he grabs you again and keeps you upright. You can feel your cheek and lips swell at his assault.

"And here they had me believing you were some meek lamb," he laughs dryly, brushing your hair back, "you're nothing but a whore, grown from perversion and abomination."

Your expression hardens. You glare at him and rebut, though your head was pounding, "and your sea rituals are more righteous than my family traditions?"

Without another word, Dalton shoves you back, propelling you into his desk. Your skull crashes against the edge with a horrendous thud.

You fall limp onto the floor. Dalton cares little if you were dead or unconscious. He walks out of the room right before he can witness the red staining your white hair.

Dalton is no fool. He knows better than to disfigure a Targaryen princess.

He walks towards the wheel of the ship and continues the course to what his crew believed to be a shortcut to home. In truth, he was bringing the ship to its doom, to face you with with a trail of the sea.

He would crash the ship into a chokehold of rocks, and if you survived, if he found your floating body, he would keep you, as you proved your resilience. But if you were swallowed into the depths, if he was unable to find you in the debris, he would praise the Drowned god for your riddance.

The same want with his crew.

Of course, there was a bit of this that felt like suicide, but he knew he was too vengeful to die, so he knew he had nothing to fear.

When the Greyjoy ship finally reached the rocky pass, Dalton was promptly warned of the danger by his lookout, who he obviously ignored.

He ordered to hoist the sails, and, blindly, the crew followed, even through apparent worry.

It didn't take very long after for the ship to crash into the cliffs.

The crew clamors. They scream and panic, turning to their captain that could not care less. He pretends to steer them to safety, but he actually slammed them further into their demise.

The deck begins to crumble. The mast snaps. The sails break off. Dalton calls to abandon ship.

The crew don't need any more convincing.

One by one, each man for their own, they try to escape with their life.

By the time Dalton jumps off the ship, the thing is half submerged in the water, crumbs of it on the side of a rock.

It was pure chaos.

Dalton swims far enough from the destruction, and knows the gods smiled upon him and his decision when he sees a large wooden slab he can climb on.

He does just that and looks out to his crew, helping the ones that manage to swim over, commanding the others calling for help to simply swim or drown.

He looks around, trying to make out a body of a woman, a blob of a dress, a head of silver hair in the aftermath.

"My wife," he screams, "has anyone seen my wife?!"

He wasn't concerned, of course. He just wanted to know his fate as a husband, but this did make for a good alibi.

His surviving men look and swim around for you. They find no trance.

Dalton presses his lips, "little dragon couldn't fly away."

They take refuge in a cliff. Lord Greyjoy tells his crew not to bitch and panic because they will surely be found by a passing ship soon enough.

He had planned this shipwreck after all.

By the time Dalton and his remaining men were saved, a flash of red circled in the setting sky, hovering over the massive rock that held the shipwreck that bore the sigil of Greyjoy.

Caraxes screeches as his rider commands him to get closer to the scene. The dragon hesitates but eventually lands on the cliff. Waves crash upon the area, causing the beast to bleat when he is wet.

Daemon is frantic as he gazes upon the destruction. He is distressed unlike he's ever been. His voice is distinctly desperate and hysterical. He screams out your name, even though it was nothing against the roar of the splashing waves.

He heaves heavily as he erratically decides to dismount and jump into the water.

As he wades, he tries to convince himself that what he was doing was for naught. Perhaps you were not here to begin with. But the gut feeling was overwhelming; it was sickening.

He tries to believe that bottom feeder, Greyjoy, saved you before his ship crumbled. He tries to convince himself that cunt's lust for you was enough reason to keep you alive.

But he remembers the servant he threatened with a knife whilst demanding to know which route your ship would take. He thinks of how he almost shit himself while confesssing to Daemon that Greyjoy planned to pass through a rocky region as a shortcut. But Daemon's flown over that area, and knew it was out of the way to the Iron Islands.

After squeezing out what's left from that servant, Daemon's face falls when he mentions that rusted octopus had an argument with a servant girl that came to serve the princess a cup of tea.

Daemon was no fool. Dalton was a butish barbarian. If he found out you were drinking Moon Tea, he would do his worst on you for blemishing his pride.

And so he swam. Daemon swam, dove down, and searched for your body until he had to stop because Caraxes was getting restless. He commanded him to calm down, but he could only do it so many times until he, himself, was the same.

He eventually gets back on Caraxes. Daemon can't bring himself to leave just yet however, and finds himself praying to whatever god out there to return his love back to him.

Caraxes circles the area one last time before heading off. For some reason, Daemon feels the urge to check underneath a large slab of shattered wood. He commands his mount to lift it, and the dragon screeches as he does what he can with his hind legs.

The sound that leaves the prince's mouth is what could be described as pure anguish.

A head of silver hair floats up and wafts in the water along with a tattered dress. Your body garnered a horrid tone of grey and you were missing your shoes.

Daemon cannot contain the tears that gush out of his eyes.

Caraxes carries your body in his claws all the way to the Keep.

The way in which he commands his ride to set your body down is frantic and incredibly detailed. Part of him realizes Caraxes probably recognized you, considering the way he laid on his belly and sniffed you as Daemon buckled to his knees and lamented over your stiff and frigid body.

He speaks to you in High Valyrian. His salty tears drip on your salt water drowned body. He promises he will never trick you, never argue with you, and never make you cry ever again if only you open your violet eyes.

He rocks back and forth with you in his arms, unsure which of you he was soothing by doing this.

He swears he will turn the sea red with blood and burn the whole Iron Islands to avenge you.

He is incredibly uncomfortable of the chill of your skin. He shakes his head, telling you dragons must not be kept cold. He kisses your face in an attempt to warm it up. He recounts a time where you accidentally spilled candle wax on him, burning his skin, and tells you that you still need to make up for your offence. He tells you he will forgive you if you simply hold him back.

Viserys had to account for three dragons by the time he found out what was happening, one was Daemon, whose grief morphed into murderous spite. He threatened to slay anyone who wanted to take you from him. Not again. Another was Caraxes, who refused to leave his heartbroken rider's side. The last was your dragon, who felt the loss of your connection, and went into a rabid state mourning.

It takes 5 people to secure your dragon in the pit, 5 people to subdue Caraxes, and 3 people to separate Daemon from your corpse.

The king takes a moment to clutch your hand. His face flinches. Where once your hand was so warm, no warmth now remained. He steps back and watches the maesters cover your body and take you away.

[seventhcallisto]

Calli my dear beloved pookie wookie bear

What are some random kinks you think ateez would have?

Xoxo your honey pookie bear 🤭♥️

That's the loml yall. My honey pookie bear 🤞 kissing my screen rn thank u for this ask

MDNI! SMUT UNDER THE CUT!!

Woo boo — spitting. choking. dirty talking. crying.

Wooyoung loves spitting. Lull your tongue out and let him spit in your mouth, let him spit on your clit. Spits on his cock when its already bottomed inside. Your hole is weeping, but he still spits. spit in his hand so he can work his dick, just spit. He's so dirty and sloppy. Such a whiney, loud mess that was so cocky seconds ago. "Is this all for me?" n then "m please! right there! oh-" Grab his throat too, please, squeeze it tight when he cums and he'll double over so hard his face scrunches and tears well up in the corner of his eyes. Can not stop dirty talking either. "so tight ng- this pussy knows it's mine" Such a filthy mouth that acts so pretty when he wants to. Whether he's domming or subbing, he's always talkative until you get a hold of his cock and just tug. Whimpers so loudly. Babbles as much, too. He's just so easy to mess up. Especially when you wrap around him, will not keep his hands to himself, and will not shut up. He cries easily. He loves to make you cry, too, but he gets overwhelmed with his oncoming orgasms it's sooo common. "Keep going! Keep going pleaseplease- don't fucking stop- Oh- fuck" He loves it when you coo at his tears, gets his cock throbbing so needily. Kiss them away while you pump him and he'll cum on the spot. please make sure to give him so much love afterward. He gets too blissed out n can hardly move. He needs reassurance from his pretty baby after.

Mingki love — size differences. rimming. cockwarming. marking.

Mingi. Yeah, you know exactly. Mingi has the urge to just puff up in your presence, no matter how small or cute you make him feel. He'll always know he's bigger in bed when he's trying hard to push himself past your walls and bottom out. It's just so much. His cock hardly fits and his body completely drapes over your own. "You're so small. Shit." Please tell him you need him deep. Cause he needs to feel you that deep, too. Will rim you. His cock tip dragging to your hole and trying to push past the tight band there that he stretched out earlier, and then he pulls back to swipe it up your folds and clit. He groans so loudly, so breathy. "I need you on top, baby, please." Please sit on his lap and ride him. He loves it so much and loves to see how small you are on his thighs, smacking your hips down on his own. And when he finishes, let him sit inside for a little. It'll get him going so quickly again. He'll be so eager, scratch him too. Leave filthy marks. He wants to be able to see them the next day and know he's yours n you're his. Admires your handy work in the mirror. "Baby, you left a bruise.. no! Don't say sorry, It's hot." Tell him you need him as much as he needs you, and he'll do his best to hold off his prolonged orgasm. He's a good boy, so treat him like that means something. Treat him like he's smaller when you're done. The size kink goes both ways for him. Hug him like he's smaller and kiss his head. Be the big spoon for a little bit.

sanie bub — creampies. rough. hair pulling. overstimulation.

San, let him rawdog. Period. That's what gets his gears going. Loves to feel you so close and intimately. He can't stop staring. "I can't help it kitty, you're just so fucking pretty" He's got no filter at the way he tries to get you to squeeze just so he can feel you clench up around him. Sanie has a hard time pulling all the way out cause you hold him so tight in your walls. So he's pounding you down instead of pulling out, which is creating a white base around his cock that has him whimpering. He'll pull your hair if you ask,, but pull his hair- It has him moaning so loudly, trying to bite his lip so he isn't getting yall in trouble the next morning. He's so fucking rough, snapping and leaving angry marks against his own skin. He definitely squeezes you too hard, cursing under his breath. "Oh- yes kitty, just like that, squeeze me- fuck" His hips won't stop and he definitely is overstimulating the both of you, it's just so addictive to him. He angles his head down to see you leak, the best part is he'll leave him cum inside, and want to watch it fall out of you when he pulls out. Having you sit on his face so he can eat you out afterwards. "Need to feel you on my mouth too, you'll let me right?" There he goes for more than once. Again, he's addicted. His tongue won't stop even if you're tugging away. His arms will interlock across your thighs and have you just about suffocate him. Groaning on your taste.

pretty seongie — mommy/oppa. oral. praising. breeding.

seonghwa. It might just be me, but he has a big oppa/mommy kink. Mommy definitely can be used between the both of you, exchanged in passing depending on the positions. "You need mommy to do that for you?" 'n "Mommy.. i need you so bad." It makes him feel special because he'll definitely take care of you so well in those ways. He makes you cum many, many, many times and wants you to feel good before he does. All the while, eating you out over and over again, always stopping just so you don't get too overstimulated and then digging his face back in. He always noses your clit because he knows the shape of it drives you wild, he can't control his own tongue, it's digging and prodding your cunt for an orgasm that's already there. Licks up everything you give him and more. As soon as he's done, he's telling you how well you did for him. "My good baby, so good for me," kissing you softly and telling you everything you need to hear and more. He's so good at praising. He worships everything you give him. Once he finally gets inside, he's done for. He can be loud but will get worse if you tell him to breed you, complete demeanor change. "Need oppa to put a load in you baby? 's that what you want mm-". "Gonna give you my babies, have you full of my cum-" Just let him breed you until he's satisfied. He gets lost in the pleasure of it all, constantly saying how good you two would be as parents. He's terrible, you're terrible, but you're always safe, and that's what matters.

joongie baby — defiling. fingering. edging. clothed.

Hongjoong. When he sinks in, it's always going to feel like the first time for him. Cause nothing compares to your cunt dragging him in so tightly. Definitely has a defiling thing, whether you're the one making him un-pure or he's the one making you un-pure. He wants to ruin you for anyone else cause he knows you have already ruined him. No one works you better than hongjoong does, especially when he pistols his nimble fingers into your gummy spot over and over again, but he'll always know your cues and slows right before you can actually reach your high. "No pretty, not yet. Let me feel you some more." he can edge you for hours, and just as you begin getting so frustrated about it, he switches you around and slips himself in. He prefers it loud, but there's something about hongjoong that hates taking the time to pull his clothes off. He's too eager, and he skips it, he prefers to fuck you in his shirt with your panties pulled to the side. Just pulling his pants down enough to slip himself inside of you. Now you're both worked up and he's slamming his hips into yours- there's a trail of cum from the two of you and he's just so loud with his whiney voice. When you think he's going to cum he slows down and tries to hold off, edging himself with whimpers "no pretty- i wanna cum with you-" He, air quotes, talks, you both through it when you finally cum in unison. "You're so perfect- my perfect girl-" whines at the end of that. As soon as you're done he's slinking down on top of you. He needs head pets. Sorry, not sorry.

pup yun — domesticity. fingers. free use. public.

yunho. He screams passionate sex, roses on the bed, and a dinner that you two cooked to complete perfection. He's just so soft and in love with you. The domesticity gets him hard, and he stands up and attentive when you turn to him to ask him about something so simple. "You'll be my wife one day. I promise, make you the happiest girl in the world, Mrs. Jeong" He just loves to be wrapped in a house with you. He wants to be used by you, too. Your pleasure is completely his. He's came a couple of times untouched when he ate you out. You want it rougher? Okay love, anything for you. You need him harder? Don't gotta ask twice- the bed is creaking. "You can have it all honey, i'm all yours." You can have him whenever, and he'll be happy to provide! Your kinks are his kinks. But there's something that completely bends when you ask him to use his fingers on you in any way. Suddenly, he's getting so sloppy and staring you so deeply in the eyes. His long and thin fingers working into you, or around your neck, or even in your mouth. "You like my fingers in your mouth? Wider honey." He might actually nut like that, too. Pull him aside after a performance, shove him in a room, and use him. He'll try to hold back groans and whimpers as you wrap around him and just completely obliterate him. People are right outside, but you're so horny you're taking him in the nearest room, it gets him so worked up he doesn't even notice how your mixed bodies are squelching, his hands gripping against your thighs to keep you flush to him. "Please- we have to be quiet honey please- ah-"

babygirl yeo — body worship. toys. pet names. sharing.

yeosang worships you. The ground you walk on, talk to him long enough, and his eyes will cloud over with devotion. Stand close by, and he'll memorize everything you do. so it applies in bed, too. He kisses everywhere so affectionately. "So pretty." It can go both ways, n when it does, he gets so shy just watching you drag your fingers up and down over his cock. Admiring his muscles and skin. He involves toys cause he likes the watch you squeeze around them. It gives him the perfect visual of how it would be once he's in you. "I'll help you out as soon as I'm done love" Will never push you, but if you let him, he'll use a vibrator on you all day, under watchful eyes of course, never does it when someone's nearby or you're talking but as soon as you seem to relax he starts it up n the pressure gets you so needy for him. Use pet names for him, call him baby, love, handsome, daddy- anything, he loves it, loves to hear your voice, and feel how much you mean those nicknames when he's digging himself inside you, his cock n heart throbbing affectionately. "Say it again, tell me it again." I can see yeosang enjoy watching you with someone else, but only someone he chooses, someone he knows can't have you officially or take you away from him. Probably wooyoung or san. "Do it, she can take it" Those two get so pussy drunk off of you n he completely understands, working his cock as he watches san use your mouth and whine about how well you take it. All the while, he's so silently watching, counting every time your eyes water, you never gag cause yeosang has worked you up that well with his own cock, taught you how to take big dicks.

jjongie bear — teasing. different places. lingerie. thigh riding.

jongho. You're not allowed to be publicly affectionate with him cause he gets shy, especially in front of the guys, but he's allowed to squeeze your hips as he walks pass or breeze his crotch against your ass as he stand behind you. His hand runs up your thigh under the table, and all the while, he smiles and laughs with his hyungs. Ghosting it over your boob when he wraps his hands around you from behind in an 'innocent hug' out of everyone's view - he's terrible. Such a tease. Smiles as soon as you notice, asking a simple question such as "Why are you looking at me like that jagi?" As soon as you get home, you're stripping your clothes off and teasing him as well, cause that's where you work your magic. When he notices the new bra, it's like his cock leaps when he notices your panties are the same color, too. He loves coordinating colors, especially on you. You're so pretty when you know what suits you. N suddenly, he's helping you take off your jewelry and spinning you around to face him, trailing kisses down your neck and collarbone. His finger tugging on your panties hem "this new? Looks so good on you." he's taking it off in the next second, helping you sit across his thigh urgently. He guides your hips back and forth against him, whimpering his name, and he responds back with encouraging soft words. All the while he stares down at your cunt, leaving a wet spot on his jeans, it's so sexy to him that you get off on his muscular thigh, watching you beg for more stimulation. "sit still and look pretty, I'll help you jagiya" As soon as you cum with a cry of his name he's dragging his pants down and lining up with your entrance, he bottoms out so quickly and comes just as quickly after a few angled thrusts. Makes sure you get to come a second time, as an apology. "Im cumming jagi- cant hold it-" give him a sec please.

(I think they'd all have these ones: Breeding. Oppa. Size difference. Aftercare. pure honorable mentions, tbh. I will not go into details. I NEED THEM IMMEDIATELY RAAAA)

[redbleedingrose]

Wake Up Call

Girl Dad!Eris x Reader

A/N: 6.2K words later?? I missed Girl Dad!Er and my babes Marwa and Twila! I hope y’all enjoy! As always, please reblog, comment, and like! It means the literal world to me and I will smooch you! (if u want)

~ a special thank you to @augustinerose who inspired me, and pushed me to continue to write, even when I didn’t think I could. 

Warmth. It was all I felt. It was all I wanted to feel. I shuffled my body closer to the only source of warmth in the large emerald stained oak bed, wriggling my hips backwards and using the corded bicep that was resting under my head to cuddle further into the sleeping male behind me, the high lord of Autumn Court, my husband and mate. A puff of breath escaped his lips, too sleep-idled to fully be aware of my nestling into him, but sensing through the bond that had been present for multiple centuries now, one that had grown stronger and firmer with every moment we spent together, that his mate was near, but not nearly close enough. Eris shifted his body towards me, groaning as he lifted himself from his back and onto his side, throwing his free arm around my waist and squeezing the soft flesh as he closed the gap between us, yanking my body in one tug to be fully against his, before settling his face into the crook of my neck. 

He pressed a soft kiss just behind my ear, humming in contentment before, apparently, falling back into a deep sleep as quickly as he had woken up, his soft snores fading into the fall breeze that was entering our room from the open balcony doors. The sun had barely risen, just peaking above the horizon, the milky orange and peach from the rays blending into the background of the giant sequoia forest that was married with the colored leaves of the sycamore maples and the weeping willows that I so very much loved. Sighing slowly, I dropped a delicate kiss onto a knife thin yet deep scar that marked the cream toned arm that had been acting as my favorite pillow since we had accepted the mating bond. I watched, barely awake, as the sun rose in the quiet peace of the morning, reveling in the end of the cries of the crickets and the start of the singing of honeyed songs by the diamond spotted doves.

I lived for these moments where I had alone time with Eris, as did he, his arm tightening around my waist as the song of the morning became louder and the chill of breeze became stronger, marking the start of a new day. The moments before we became high lady and high lord to our vast and expanding land. The moments before the Autumn Court depended on our daily activities to keep the territory in harmony and fruitful success. The moments before our perfect, mischievous little babes sneak into our room with their “guard” dog, who was really just a runt from a killer hound litter that Marwa and Twila convinced their papa, the usually unshakeable high lord, to buy from the farmers market with their tiny pouts and big brown eyes, in tow, just to jump onto our bed and scream with delight until we would wake and bless them with our coziest of hugs and our sunup smooches. 

Honestly, I was quite surprised the babes hadn’t run in yet, the pitter patter of their feet running towards our room that correlated with the sunrise is usually what sent my eyes flying open, shoving a warm and cuddly Eris off of me, scrambling to pull on any clothing that the newly grumpy male had hastily pulled off the previous night before we scar our innocent children for life. An observation that apparently hadn’t gone unnoticed,  a groggy murmur emmenanting from the lordling whose hand was now roaming the expanse of my abdomen and breasts, a stray finger sliding over my nipple, “What trouble do you think the babes are getting up to right now, my beloved?” 

I caught his exploring hand with my own, twining our tattooed fingers together before bringing it up to my lips and pressing firm kisses that were followed with a tiny bite to each of the available pads of his fingers, humming in response, “I haven’t the foggiest idea, husband.” He growled, shoving his naked leg between my thighs, sighing out as I brought his pointer finger into my mouth for a soft suckle to soothe the sting of the bite I had gifted him with, running my tongue along the length of his digit. 

A grin overtook my face as I finally turned to face Er, who was staring back at me with his own lust-filled smirk. A jolt of excitement ran through your core, the warmth that I had felt suddenly, rushing down to my barely covered sex that was starting to throb at the butterfly sensation that had erupted in my belly. My mate pulled me in for a slow kiss, meshing our lips together so that they would melt against each other as they had last night, quickly working in harder and faster pecks. I molded my entire body against his, grinding into the hard muscle as his hand slipped out of my embrace and up to caress my jaw, his thumb carefully pressing into the soft skin of my neck. Another thrill of heat tingeled its way through my entire body, starting from his thumb and spreading down all the way to the tip of my painted sage green toes. I couldn't help the desperate whine that escaped me, further encouraging Er to kiss me more firmly, with intent to continue into what would surely be rough morning sex that would blend into incredible love making as the hours passed. 

Unfortunately, the gods had other plans for us two today.��

The familiar sound of two pairs of small feet scampering through the hall towards our room had sent me thwarting off the edge of the bed, hurling Eris his pants as he chuckled at my panic. I shot him a dirty, betrayed look, rolling my eyes as I shoved on the silk slip I was wearing last night when I put the babes to bed, tossing myself back into Eris’ arms while pulling the heavy comforter back over us. The lordling grunted in surprise as he caught me when I tossed myself back into bed, pulling me back into his grasp, chortling into my disheveled hair with a planted kiss, “Ah, who would've known our babes would be such wonderful cockblocks, my beloved?” 

I clenched my jaw, jabbing my elbow into his perfect abs, hissing at him to “Shut up.” If I was anyone else, if I wasn’t the love of his life and his mate, if I wasn’t the mother of his children, I would already be disintegrated into ash with the force of his magic. Another swift kiss was pressed into my hair by the high lord as the hickory double doors carved with intricate designs and stained with henna were barely pushed open by the two toddlers who tried peaking their heads through the opening. 

A tuft of amber hair resembling her fathers along with another tuft of darker hair resembling her grandmother poked into the room through the doorway, curls inherited from their papa that are tangled and in disarray from the dreams of their pegasus’ in Day court, taken care of by their grandparents, mixed in with dreams of milk chocolate swirled with caramels and pecans that their uncle Lucien sneaked them constantly. Tiny grunts are heard as the babes struggle to manage keeping the doors open, their little, pudgy hands too strained against the heavy wood to even allow their shoulders to squirm against each other and through the pressed doorway, “Help pwease, papa.” The request comes grumbled out by Twila, who has decidedly put all her effort into keeping the door open for her and her sister, Marwa, whose back is now pressed into the grand oak, bare feet trying to climb up the emerald green wallpaper to use the force of her upper body to aid her twin, waiting rather impatiently for their papa to save the day, as he always does for them. 

I lean back into Eris, chuckling at the effort of the babes, nudging his already moving body towards them. His reply comes swiftly, mingled with mirth at the sweet girls he loves more than the moon, more than the stars and the sun itself, “Coming, my little loves.” Centuries ago, he couldn’t have ever imagined this is what his lifetime would be blessed with. Two perfect babes who were happy and safe, and a perfect mate who warmed his heart more than the eternal fire of Autumn. Now, he wakes every morning to the scent of his high lady who seeks him out for the fire in his blood he once despised, followed by the sounds of his precious darlings sneaking into the room, jumping onto our bed, screaming with laughter to start our day. 

He drew the door open slowly, allowing for Twila to release her efforts from holding the doors open and shift them into racing into the room towards the bed, leaving her sister behind who is hoisted into Eris’ embrace. I watched him press soft kisses into Marwa’s cheeks and messy hair while Twila fisted the fluffed out comforter to pull herself onto the bed. I settled myself into the padded headboard, crossing my legs at my ankles and placing my interlocked hands into my lap. A chuckle escaped me once again, Twila’s grunts and reddening face bringing me a sense of delight that can only be ascribed to the pride I felt in her never-ending effort, “Do you need help, little one?” I hummed down at her, leaning down to the side to see her bare feet off the floor and pressed into the side of the bed to steady her climbing. 

She whined for a moment, her amber curls falling above her eyes which she swatted away, huffing out a, “No tanks you mama.” In all her struggles, she didn’t notice Er sneaking up from behind her, winking at me with a small smirk when he fisted her daffodil yellow nightgown and gave her the final tug she needed to climb onto the bed, letting go before she could realize how her papa has interfered, and ultimately helped her succeed with her mission. Twila panted against the crumpled bed sheets, her hands curling to fist the fabric for a moment before leaping up onto her feet, jumping on the bed as though the completion of her mission had revitalized her energy, big brown eyes sparkling with joy, leaping into my open arms to shove her face into my cheek, sloppily pressing a wet kiss before she cried out, “Look mama, I did it!”

My arms wrapped around her wriggling body, yanking her into my lap while she giggled and kicked at the feeling of my fingers poking into her sides, “You did it my sweet, good job!” I returned the sloppy kiss two-fold, pressing a smooch to her warm forehead and freckled nose. The mattress shifted as Eris sank in beside me, Marwa quietly pressed into his side, her head leaning on his chest, her heavy eyes watching her sister and I before taking a deep breath and clinging closer to her papa. I reached out my hand to run my fingers through the tired babes hair, giving a soft tug to one curl following it with peppered kisses all over the top of Marwa’s head. A sleepy smile tugged at her flushed cheeks, preening under her mamas attention and love, her half lidded eyes finally giving into the sleep she so clearly felt, sliding shut with puffs of breath escaping her open mouth, soothed by the strokes of Eris’ hands down her back and back through her hair. 

Twila kindly babbled on, though, she did so more softly so she didn’t wake her twin, telling Eris and I of the things she planned on doing today, “I wanna eat nachos for breakfast, mama, an then I wanna go for a walk with Ruby,” the pup who had slid into the room with the babes and had nestled himself into the rug, dozing in front of the crackling fireplace, “An then I wanna eat nachos for lunch,” Eris cut in with a small laugh tumbling from his pretty lips, a single brow arched as he eyed the babe in my lap with amusement, “Nachos for breakfast and lunch Twi?” 

She brought up her tiny palms to stifle giggles that escaped her like a little sprite at Er’s slightly concerned tone, nodding with a hum in affirmation, finding great pleasure in being a source of what could be called ‘a healthy stress’ for her papa. Twila was always the most mischievous and playful of the two, the one most likely being the mastermind for the adventures she took herself and her sister along in as the outgoing babe she is. Poor, sweet Marwa always found herself roped into whatever Twila had planned, following along with unbreakable loyalty, and a secret knack for getting the two out of any trouble they may have found themselves in. 

Eris shot me a look that nearly sent me over the edge with cackles, the hilarity of Twila’s cravings were too adorable to handle, a feeling of delirious content spilled into my heart as I thought back to my pregnancy with the babes that were sat in our arms. I thought back to the countless nights I had woken up Eris, who startled awake with distress, thinking there was something wrong with me or the babes, or that there was some danger that needed to be eliminated, only to find that his high lady was craving cheesy, melty nachos with jalapenos and all sorts of other peppers as toppings. Pressing another kiss, this time into the babes chubby cheek, I let my smile widen as her big brown, sparkling eyes turned up to me, “How about we have scrambled eggs and potatoes, the ones that I make, and nachos for lunch, hmm?” Her replying smile lilted her ruddy cheeks enough for Eris to lean in and press his own kiss onto her. 

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It had been hours since the morning lull had quickened into the busy afternoon. Eris and I were immensely crammed with our duties, negotiations of forging an alliance between Night, Dawn, and Day was proving harder than expected. Demands that were being sent by all parties were being denied outright without explanation, driving tensions higher and higher with every passing day. The other problems of the court also required our utmost attention, the lords who remained from the rule of Beron were rebelling against Eris’ new laws that were set into place to protect the farmers and townspeople that were once oppressed, both financially and politically. Changes had to be made in Autumn once Eris took his place on the throne, assigning me as the first high lady of Autumn was the first step he made into bringing these changes. After years on the throne, things hadn’t gotten any easier. The only point of peace we got were the moments we had with each other, and the moments we had with our babes. 

We hadn’t been able to see them since breakfast; Er and I had been pulled into different meetings while the babes were whisked away to their morning lessons. I glanced up, looking over Eris’ hair at the clock that had been hung on the wall behind his desk. The times after our meetings were spent decompressing within his office, either through fucking out our frustrations or reading together in a peaceful silence. Today, it had been reading together in a peaceful silence. It was nearly a quarter till the sixteenth hour, which was encroaching on what should be the babes naptime. 

Their nanny, Zephyrus, should’ve put them to bed already, and it was high time to check and see how they were resting. Normally, Twila slept like a log, soft snores leaving her, similar to her papa  in every way. It was Marwa who sometimes struggled with her sleep, waking up in the middle of naptime, coming to her papa’s office to be snuggled and sung back to sleep. Sighing, I pulled myself up from my seat on the tanned leather couch, lifting my feet from Eris’ lap, lightly smacking his shoulder at the groan he had let out as he threw back his head into the couch. I was ready to kiss the babes and give them a quick snuggle, however sexually frustrated my mate was. “Leaving so soon, gorgeous?” 

I nearly tripped at the nickname, my heart stuttering for a moment as the bond between us pulled taught. I recovered rather quickly though, my heart returning into the deep yearning feeling for my babes and their warm bodies pressed against mine, clinging onto my hold and whining in their sleep for more soft kisses to their foreheads and cheeks, their mama’s attention something they craved even in their deepest of dreams. “I’ve been here for two hours Er, giving you my undivided attention,” I replied in a rather deadpan tone, the poor male could really never get enough of me, and he made that quite clear with another groan that slipped from his lips. I scoffed at the high lord of Autumn, “so fucking needy aren’t you?” sending him a smirk, swaying my hips as I turned toward the exit. I could hear him shuffle behind me, the image clear in my head that he was adjusting his hard on; another smirk tugged at my lips, one that was now hidden from my mate. 

As I turned to shut the door, I brought my hand up to blow Eris a kiss, and he, wordlessly, caught it, his beautiful gods-forsaken eyes glinting back at me until the knob had clicked into place. The bond between us was now struggling against me with need, enticing me to run back into the office so Eris could have his way with me, but I was more focused on getting back to the babes. I strolled through the halls, tracing with my eyes, the giant archways and marbled columns that opened into the back forest and plains of the estate before looking to the ceiling. There is a haze of lychee and pear in the breeze that guides the hung roses and peonies that cover whole portions in rocking motions, the portions that sit free are painted with the histories of Prythian breaking into the seven courts that stand today. The inner gardens had fountains that spouted water that glittered like diamonds under the afternoon sun, dazzling rainbows sent in every direction, landing on the swaying leaves of the eldred willow trees that Eris had planted in victory after he had defeated Beron. 

I reached their bedroom without haste, admiring the peach pink and lavender shade of the stained glass embedded into the entryway to the babes room, a lovely gift from Rhysand and Feyre when they were born. The rulers of the Night court had been delighted to hear that their own son, Nyx, would have not only one, but two playmates whenever we would find the time to visit their home in Valeris. Our alliance had never been stronger with the Night court, and that was something that both Eris and I had taken great pride in. I cracked the door open, peering into the dark room, only to find the two beds where the babes should be asleep, empty.

A jolt of panic shot through me and down the mating bond without meaning to, the answering tug from Eris, filled with concern and worry. I sucked a tense and heavy breath through my teeth, calming myself into believing I was just an overprotective mother hen. I sent back an ounce of reassurance down the bond, back to Er before hurrying down to the playroom. I convinced myself that it was entirely possible Twila woke early and insisted that Marwa join her for a game of pretending, pushing down the weightful sense of dread that began to fill me. The estate was impossibly protected with wards and spells that Eris himself, along with Lucien and Helion had cast, blocking off any chance of breach. My breath was too difficult to catch as I paced down the hall, a horrible voice croaking in my head, ‘Nothing is impossible, you fool. What if they were taken?” 

Hot tears rimmed my eyes as I tore into the playroom. Empty. 

Scattered toys were all over the floor, the table in the center still set with the tea cups that Marwa had gotten as a gift from Lucien, ready for the babes and their favorite uncle to join in on their ‘princess party.’ The sun shone in through the window, heating the room to the point where beads of sweat had formed at the top edge of my lip. The panic that I had shoved down reared its ugly head, spreading through me and in full force down the bond as I broke into a sprint towards their tiny classroom where they received their afternoon lessons. Maybe they had been kept by Draconus, the fae professor who, before, had taught Eris and all his brothers, and before them, Beron and his siblings, and so on. Marwa had always complained about the elderly male droning on for lengths beyond their lesson time. 

The door banged against the wall with the force that I had used to slam it open. 

Fucking Empty. 

My hand came up to my chest, clenching at the feeling of my heart squeezing too tightly in my chest, like a noose had been tied around it and tugged. A wave of nausea and dizziness swept through me, sending me tumbling backward. I nearly fell over as a pair of arms wrapped around my waist, turning me to face the person who had caught me, but I couldn’t see. My vision had blurred, blackening around the periphery as ugly, deep sobs ripped through the lump that had lodged into my throat and out of me. A set of warm hands cupped my cheeks, lifting my gaze to meet crazed amber eyes flickering back and forth with mine, “They are gone. Where are… Where are the… Where are my babes?”  It comes out rather quietly, stuttered between short and incomplete gasps. Rather breathless. Almost whispered. As if I couldn’t find it within me to speak the horrid words any louder. 

My knees gave out completely, any sensation in my legs ceased to exist, but Eris was there to lift me into his embrace, wrapping his arm around my legs and lifting me into a bridal style before resting me on the small desk that Marwa usually sat at. He didn’t wait for another moment, screaming out to his personal guards in the most chilling voice I had ever heard him use, “Lock down this fucking estate. No one moves in or out. Search the entire fucking house. Leave no room unsearched. Turn every piece of fucking furniture over. Find my children, heirs to the Autumn throne. Immediately. Or heads will roll.” His back is turned towards me as he shouted, but the panic he felt rippled down the bond in heavy waves, focusing into a rage that he had never experienced, not even when Beron lived, “and bring me the fucking nanny.” 

His guards immediately drew their iron swords at his orders and dispersed rapidly, some running further into the home, some running outside. Splitting into groups of two, one ran towards the outskirts of the estate where Zeyphrus lived to drag her back here, and the other towards the outer forest that surrounded the home. My hands shook as I traced the little carving of Marwa’s name on the small desk, left by what looks to be a very sharp pencil, or possibly, a tiny dagger. I could hardly feel the indents into the wood, my hands tingling with panic and nerves as Eris turned towards me, the fire in his eyes still evident. His hand caught mine, squeezing tightly, “We will find them my love, they will be fine. They are strong and will take care of each other.”

Another sob escaped me as I collapsed into his arms, clinging to his figure for a moment before the shouts of the nanny were heard down the hall. Two of the guards were dragging her by her elbows, she glanced wildly around the room in confusion until she was brought to her knees facing us. She took one long look at Eris’ face, wincing at the cold fury that was directed at her and turned to stare down at the ground, “Where are Marwa and Twila?” Her head snapped up, confusion washing over her face, “I– in bed my lord,” stuttering it out, more as a question than as a statement. She shifted her gaze to me, maybe hoping to find more mercy, mercy that I could not find within me as long as my babes were missing. 

She continued, her voice trembling as her body began to shake, the guards tightening their grip on her elbows and yanking her up to face us once more, “My lord, I put them to bed for their daily nap, I– are they not there?” Her cerulean blue eyes filled with tears, panic shone across her face as she begins to process the implications of not knowing where Marwa and Twila were. My tone was piercing, “No, they aren’t.” She began stuttering, but the patience of Eris and I had already been drawn out the moment we found their classroom empty, Eris had fully shifted into the ruthless high lord he once feared becoming, slamming his hand onto the wooden table next to him, his eyes filled with the fire that was stoked by the fear of losing his children, the greatest joys of his life. Zephyrus cried out in fear, flinching as the nearby supply closet lit into a controlled fire, the pent of rage and horror Eris felt bleeding into his surroundings through his fae magic. 

But there was something in the way that she had looked at us, the way she had been truly confused, almost flabbergasted that we had been questioning her about the whereabouts of our babes that made me feel as though, deep in my gut, she had nothing to do with this. I felt weak, my hands still tingling from the panic, shakily resting on one of Eris’ forearms, “She doesn’t know anything Er.” Both of their heads jolted towards me, Zephyrus with a look of relief muddled with confusion, and Eris, shaken and upset. The babes adored their nanny, and she loved them. Marwa always has stories of the cuddles she and Zephyrus had, and Twila was filled with tales of their afternoon walks through the forest. She had looked after them since they were born, setting up to help me on the toughest of nights, and the busiest of days. 

Er jerked his head at the guards, gesturing for them to take the woman away, likely to a holding cell for further questioning until the babes are found. But it would be pointless. We had sworn her into secrecy and loyalty the day she signed on as our babes nanny, and any movement away from that sworn loyalty, would result in her immediate death by the magic that bound us together. I painfully swallowed against the hard lump in my throat, still struggling to breathe, the pressure in my chest making it only possible to catch my breath, even in small gasps of air. 

The fear burned my eyes, I blinked back the stinging tears to prevent them from streaming down into an endless sea of panic. Blowing out the breath from my puffed cheeks, I stared into Eris’ flickering irises, still flaming from the worry. His warm hands came up to cup my cheeks, pulling me closer into him until his forehead was pressed against mine, “You can find them my love,” his lips fluttered above my upper lip as he spoke, “You know them better than anyone. They are your soul, as they are my heart. C’mon sweet girl, think.” His hand marked by our shared tattoo reached down and grabbed hold of my own, pressing it against his chest right where his heart beat. It felt like a hummingbird fluttering against my palm, only slowing with pulses of comfort that waved down our bond. 

I tightened my palm into a fist, gripping the soft material of his blood red shirt as I forced myself to think back to where the babes could possibly be. All the areas I had checked were my firstline stream of thoughts, but it was possible they were elsewhere in places I hadn’t even initially thought of. But the possibilities remained endless. Eris and I had been quite strict with incorporating family outings into our schedules. Even as high lord and lady, we still made sure to have one on one time with the babes, girls’ day out with their mama and daddy's day out with their papa, even their favorite uncle, the newly ascendent high lord of Day, Lucien joined in on occasion. 

From having their own treehouse built in the sacoya, to private pathways in the forest, to small alcoves for a game of hide and seek, to the rapids of the Sienna river where Eris took them fishing. 

They could be anywhere. 

And who even knows if they were together? 

I sent a silent prayer to the mother and gods above, to any deity who had the sympathy to listen and hopefully, the benevolence to answer such prayers, that they were together, that they remained as a unit of sisters, stuck together with the everlasting love of siblings. I prayed a prayer that they would give me even the smallest of clues as to where they could possibly be, And I hoped that Ruby, their pup, was with them, even as small as he was, it was possible that–. 

The pup. 

The hounds. 

Though Eris’ palm was rubbing the back of my neck, keeping me close to him as he eyed my now concentrated face, I felt myself hurtle back. The fucking hounds. “I– I think I know. Gods, please, I think–,” I couldn't even finish my sentence, already using all my force to push myself off the desk, legs pumping underneath me, carrying me before the thought could even finish itself. I continued crying prayers to myself as I ran, “gods, please, please.” I could barely hear the thudding of Eris’ leather boots against the marbled floor and then the evening dewed grass over the blood that was whooshing in my ears. 

Eris slammed into my back, not expecting me to suddenly stop in my tracks. His arm wrapped around my hips as we both stumbled forward, trying to prevent me from being thrown over the stable door as the force of his impact made its way through me. But my feet were planted on the floor, my hand frozen stuck on the door handle. A question comes out of Eris’ mouth, one that I do not hear as I forced myself to take another deep breath, a final beseeching prayer to the cauldron before heaving the heavy door open. 

One of my hands reached back to grab Eris’ as I pulled him and I inside, eyes searching over every millimeter of the stable, over and over. The stalls remained childless, with only hay and curious horses peaking at us. My grip tightened its hold on Eris’ hand, squeezing three times on occasion as he paced behind me, rechecking every stall that I have peered into. I switched my path away from the horses and towards the area where the killer hounds were kept. The ones that belonged to Eris, even before I was in his life. The ones who are supposed to tear apart any enemies to the Autumn Court into literal shreds. The ones who are known to maul intruders of the estate.

The ones that have the softest of soft spots for the babes and I. 

The ones who used to whine at our bedroom door until Eris would get out of bed to open the door for them. The ones who would rush into the room and pounce onto the bed to snuggle against me. The ones who refused to leave my side during my pregnancy, taking turns laying their head on my swollen belly. The ones who stood at the doorway during the birth of the babes, growling at any sentry who walked past the room. The ones who licked the small toes of Marwa, and sniffed at Twila’s little fists. The ones who ran ahead during our family hikes to warn us of any pedestrians ahead. The ones who slowed their trots to match pace with the small toddling of Marwa and Twila. The ones who patiently allowed for Twila to climb onto their backs, who screamed with joy, “Onward Buster!” forcing them to carry her to wherever the little one pleased. The ones who sat with Marwa, who settled herself on their side, reading tiny books to them, pointing out the pictures with her chubby pointer finger which they would attentively stare at. 

And there they are. 

I took a moment, soaking in the scene before me, pressing my hands into my belly, trying to quiet the sobs that are forcing their way through my body. I heard a gasp of relief from Eris, who hugged me from behind and stroked the backs of my hand, popping a quick kiss into my cheek and then on my temple before resting his head on top of mine. He slowly swayed us side to side, enjoying the most adorable, relieving sight he had ever seen in his entire lifetime. 

Twila was curled into Marwa, her pudgy arm clinging to her sister's soft, plush belly. Marwa’s head was turned toward Twila’s, her tiny hand tightly gripping her sisters, the both of them fast asleep, cuddled together, surrounded by the warmth of the twelve killer hounds that Eris had raised. Their pup lay on his stomach, snoring softly as the babes feet rested under him, acting as a miniature comforter.  

It was Marwa who woke first, hearing the shuffling of her mama and papa trying to move around the hounds to reach them. Her tiny fist released her sister's hand, rubbing at her sleep crusted eyes, a tiny yawn escaping her as she sat up and stretched, her adorable rounded belly sticking out. “Mama?” Her voice is heavy with sleep, her eyes half lidded as she fought off falling back into her dreams. 

I choked down another sob, reaching down for her, my smile watery and full as her arms automatically reached out so she could be held, “Hello my beautiful little babe.” I pulled her into my embrace, clutching at her dress and stuffing my face into her messy, knotted hair, “And what kind of mischief have you and your sister gotten into little one?” Her legs could barely wrap around my waist, her arms tightly wrapped around my neck as she buried her face into my shoulder, taking a deep sigh of content as she took in her mothers scent. Eris finally reached the passed out Twila, who continued snoring quietly as he lifted her up into his chest. He planted a kiss onto her nose, which twitched at the tickling sensation, before she snuggled deeper into his warmth. He rocked her, patting the space between her shoulders to soothe her back into her deep sleep. The hounds lifted their deadly stares at us, taking a moment to recognize who we are, before resting their heads back onto their feet. 

I huffed out a snort, rolling my eyes while I approached Eris, focused more so on bending over to kiss Twila’s ruddy, warm cheeks than the napping hounds. Marwa grumbled, wriggling deeper into my embrace when Eris landed a sloppy kiss onto her forehead. He sent a smirk my way, bumping his hip into mine as we strolled out of the stables, “They really are your children,” his voice is hoarse, but filled with mirth and fondness. I scoffed, bumping his hip in return, much rougher than I had initially intended, “And what is that supposed to mean fireboy?” I side-eyed him, pursing my lips into a wicked grin as he flushed red at the nickname. “I mean, they fall asleep anywhere and everywhere at any time. And I wonder who they got that from,” boring his amber eyes into mine without any sense of hesitation. 

I playfully gasped at the hidden accusation, tickling the bottoms of Marwa’s feet who kicked them out and cackled as I stared incredulously at her, “Do you hear your papa little one? How ridiculous is he?” She leaned in, pecking my lips with a tiny kiss, before pulling back, her chocolate brown eyes bright and sparkling, “So so ri-ducky-lucky mama.” Eris chomped his teeth at her, “Honk honk,” snickering at her cheerful yelps. He settled the napping Twila, who had a tranquil smile gracing her face, on his hip, reaching his free hand, tattooed with our marriage vows to rest on the small of my back as we walked back to the estate. 

They were most definitely sleeping in our room at nightfall.

Masterlist

General taglist: @nyotamalfoy @brekkershadowsinger @kennedy-brooke @fieldofdaisiies

[zvphyr]

. ִ ֗..envy looms over them, pleas for mercy falling upon deaf ears.

˖ ࣪ ‹ FOR envy is a cold blooded killer, slithering through slips and cracks between ones mind, filling any gaping voids their melancholy couldn't. . .

─ TO SUMMARIZE, the position of an archons lover comes with great responsibility and great sacrifice..

. ִ ֗ cws ; yandere behavior, dark themes, death, descriptions of dead bodies, light gore, slight mindbreak, imprisonment.

CRIES AND WEEPS WERE HEARD AS A THICK MELANCHOLY FILLED THE AIR, a newfound grief swallowing the crying figure whole. Hands shaky and bloodied, the metallic smell fills their lungs as they choke back venom, cursing upon the name of the one who bore responsibility of this crime.

A different figure approached the weeping one, kneeling down beside them but their demeanour unfazed. No tears left their eyes, for they knew their crying lover would soon return to their senses, sacrifices must be made, and not everyone proves themselves worthy of seeing another day.

˖ ࣪ ‹ “HEAVY EMOTIONS BURDEN YOU, MY BELOVED, WHY'S THAT?”

The bards smooth voice taunted them, for the blood staining his hands was far too visible despite not being there anymore. The voice which once sang and whispered the sweetest of love poems to them now disgusted them, for they knew he was the one who caused their loved ones death.

Poor poor soul, the blood from their veins spilling onto the ground and dirtying the mourning figures clothes with a deep crimson, the corpse almost unrecognizable. Grief filled the crying persons heart, staring down at what was left of the one who was so full of life mere hours ago. A shame, truly. Tears spilled down their eyes as they cursed the anemo archon under their breath.

Their eyes glued onto the fresh corpses face, the poor souls face twisted in horror and frozen in utter fear. His hand slithers onto their shoulder, slightly rubbing circles onto it as their cries fell upon deaf ears, for he doesn't regret his actions and would not hesitate to do this again.

The figure of the anemo archon's beloved was one regularly seen amidst Mondstadt's bustling roads, always so quick to start a conversation, everyone knew their name yet nobody quite knew them. Soft summer breezes danced around them with every step they took, as they listened to their partners honeyed words.

Nobody quite caught onto their pain, nobody quite saw past their friendly demeanor as they had to beg the archon to spare the lives of the ones they interacted with, promising to never leave his side as he held a blade to their throat.

Perhaps this was their fate, to forever remain in his grasp and suffer the consequences of giving into his love, for the wind carried their cries and ushered them away, never to be heard again.

˖ ࣪ ‹ “THE GRIEF IS TEMPORARY, DEAREST, AND I BELIEVE BOTH OF US KNOW THAT BY NOW, NO?”

Amber eyes stared down at their shaking form, his voice eerily calm as if he wasn't just staring down at what was left of a fresh corpse. Those deep amber eyes which they once gazed at lovingly now sent shivers down their spine, as they couldn't even raise their head to meet them... For they knew those amber eyes hid many secrets, one of them being the fact that the person behind them caused the death of the young person.

The corpse was now beyond recognition, the only thing that they could recognize being a mere scrap of fabric left behind from their tattered outfit. Crushed to death, most of the corpse was gone yet the deep bloodstain and the organs spilling out of what was left of their torso was enough to make them sick to their stomach as they cried, cursing the geo archon under their breath.

He didn't kneel beside them, choosing to instead tower over the crying figure, he only slightly did so to tap on their back, a silent threat.. for their contract clearly stated that crying over or mourning someone who wasn't their beloved would be considered deep betrayal and would result to breaking the contract.

The geo archons beloved was seen around Liyue quite a lot, too. Fairly less talkative and hanging off of the arm of their partner, one normal couple that seemed so passionate about one another as the illusion of pure love was strong. Rocks could turn into mush from the lightest of touches from them, noises of jewels hanging off of them clinking together were like a sirens song to their partner.

And yet, it was all an act. Merely a play, to have others believe nothing was wrong with the two of them when the red flags of their relationship were just so many. People they interacted with a little too much would go missing, as would a piece of their soul as they'd betray the contract binding the two lovers together.

Perhaps this was their fate, to forever remain in his grasp and suffer the consequences of giving into his love, for the depths of the tall caves muffled their cries, never to be heard again.

˖ ࣪ ‹ “YOUR TEARS PROVE WEAKNESS, HOWEVER DO YOU BELIEVE WE WILL ACHIEVE OUR ETERNITY WHEN YOU'RE SO INCAPABLE?”

Her expensive perfume filled their lungs as they inhaled sharply, one they were used to all too well. The airy perfume haunted them even in their slumber, one that they initially enjoyed breathing in now made them want to lose their sense of smell completely. That sweet, sweet fragrance drowned out the metallic smell lingering onto her skin, for they knew all too well it was her to blame for this inhumane crime, and she was wearing it with pride.

The corpse was still fairly intact, blood spilling out of their mouth and down onto the floor as it seemingly wouldn't spot, electro scars clear on their skin. Electrocuted to death, the sheer intensity and speed of the electricity which hit them causing an immediate death. Despite her cold words, their tears just wouldn't stop as they sniffled, silent tears falling into the nasty puddle of blood. Choking back their tears they cursed the electro archon under their breath.

She didn't lower herself to them, merely scoffing as she threatened them to stop making a scene with the crackling of thunder in the distance, they knew they'd be next if they didn't cut it out. They wiped their tears, breath still shaky as they held in the tears, for they knew they had to be strong for the sake of their life.

The electro archons beloved was never seen. A mystery on their own, wandering through the halls of their current residence with the archon and making servants think they were some sort of ghost. Usually locked up in her plane of euthymia, they'd have to beg for countless hours just to be let out for even a few minutes to breathe in fresh air. Electricity surged through their fingertips, answering to their calls, it was but another mark of ownership, another thing she did to claim them.

Whenever they were let out however, they'd be under high surveillance, despite the fact they were there for barely five minutes until they'd be brought right back to their lover, isolated within the depths of her very mind, the threat of never being let out again lingering in their mind. And if they did interact with someone? Well, they'd be dead in an instant, this scenario would replay itself as she'd force them to stop crying and drag them back to their prison home.

Perhaps this was their fate, to forever remain in her grasp and suffer the consequences of giving into her love, for the rain and crackling of thunder silenced their cries, never to be heard again.

˖ ࣪ ‹ “. . .”

Her touch chilled them to the very core as merely her presence caused the already impossibly low temperature to drop, the very touch they once yearned for making them flinch away from her gloved hand. They were used to her touch all too well, despite that, to know the very sin she had just committed drove them away, the very tears in their eyes almost freezing before leaving their eyes from the cold. Snowflakes dancing between them yet they could only pay attention to the corpse before them.

Fully intact and almost alive looking yet that peaceful expression could not hide her disgusting actions. Sharp pieces of ice that bloomed from the very ground piercing through their flesh, a clean kill yet just seeing their loved ones body frozen and impaled in such inhumane ways made their eyes turn into waterfalls. Tears trickled down their cold cheeks as they cursed the cryo archon under their breath.

She lowered herself slightly, hand onto their shoulder as it slightly slithered to their collarbone, her every touch practically leaving an icy imprint onto their very soul. She pulled them back a little, and they got the hint. Sniffling a little they got up, shaking from the cold and the tears they let her pull them into her embrace, buried deep within her heavy coat.

The figure of the cryo archons beloved was a fleeting one, never seen outside her palace and even there.. the servants were barely aware of them, gossip making it's way through the dark halls, creepy stories of a sickly pale figure, the archons very beloved hidden away deep within the palace. The only one who knew of their existence fully being the Jester, the archons most trusted harbinger. He who had seen them full of life once, sunkissed skin and eyes with genuine life behind them, now had caught sight of them as a breathing corpse.

Her promises of fixing a world where they'd eternally be safe and never hurt again lingered in their mind, she excused her imprisonment of them as a safety precaution, for the world was "far too dangerous" for them, despite their strength. Rarely let out, and only during formal events, they'd be seen sometimes.. perhaps buried under her coat or just by her side and not interacting with anyone else, for bad things would happen if they did. The Jester had caught their gaze once, and maintaining eye contact with them even for a second caused a chill to go down his spine, he knew that look all too well. A silent cry for help, eyes sunken from tears and deep dark circles visible on under their eyes, a gaze which haunted his nightmares for multiple nights.

Perhaps this was their fate, to forever remain in her grasp and suffer the consequences of giving into her love, for the snowstorms haunting songs lulled their cries into an eternal sleep, never to be heard again.

˖ ࣪ ‹ . . .ISOLATING the poor soul with the envious god eternally, it's green light flashing within their eyes, the last thing they saw as the cuts and slashes through their skin dug deeper.

─ do not copy, steal nor translate any of my works without explicit permission from me. ++ ignore any mistakes

[daydream-cement]

The Forest Calls

Larissa Weems x OC (Fern Rogers)

Authors Note: No one asked for this angst. Song for this chapter is Would That I by Hozier.

You were digging in the greenhouse of Nevermore Academy when the voice came to you. The same voice of the same woman from all those years ago, The forest calls. It’s time to come home.

Long ago, you gave up battling the destiny that the forest bestowed upon you. You took a deep breath, pushing yourself up off the ground. You couldn’t deny that getting around wasn’t as easy as it used to be. Forty years you spent as the greenhouse keeper and botany professor at Nevermore. You didn’t realize today would be your last day.

You left the gardening tools in the sink and wandered up to the library where the retired headmistress would certainly be reading a book. You both spent so many years at Nevermore that Larissa Weems found it hard to fully retire. Rather she kept up the library in her golden years.

You smile as you see her tall form resting in an arm chair. Glasses rested on the bridge of her nose as her eyes scanned the pages of a book in her hands. You watched her for a moment, appreciating all the beauty she still held. Her eyes caught you staring, as they usually did, “Hello, troublemaker.”

“Hi, hon.” You smile, making your way to the armchair opposite her. You settle into it and grin wide at your wife as you always did, “Good day?”

“Always. And you?” She asks, eyes still resting on the pages of her book.

“I might go for a walk. The forest is calling.”

Your words gather her attention and a smile tugs at the corners of her lips. That was such a Fern thing for you to say, “Okay, honey. Be back for dinner.”

“I love you, my sequoia.”

“I love you, my Fern.”

———

You never came back.

Rowan was the one to find you. She fell to her knees when she found you, weeping by your body. She hated this part of immortality- losing those who she had always been destined to outlive. Your body lay surrounded by the Council of 12 Cedars, cushioned by soft sphagnum moss. Truly, you would have never wanted a different grave.

Larissa was beside herself. Larissa would have told anyone that she would pass first. She didn’t find it fair that you should be the one to go first when she was a decade older. It was hard for loneliness to find her, however. For Violet and Althea would never allow loneliness to befall their beloved mother.

Violet had been living in London, raising your grandchildren there with her husband, another shapeshifter. She had three boys. Those boys were Larissa and your reasons for breathing. They had been impossibly adored by the two of you with pictures of them or their art hanging in every corner of the house. Vi had a successful career in fashion and was just as sweet and thoughtful as she was as a girl.

Althea, who now went by Al, lived in Wisconsin running the old family farm. She lived with your father who was still alive at 97. She had taken many pages from Auntie Rowan’s book and remained untethered as your fearless, spitfire of a daughter. Her passion remained in farming and while she didn’t have your powers, she continued your tradition of helping all the local farmers.

———

Your funeral was a large affair, attended by many of your wonderful students from the years past. More importantly, your original Advanced Botany class was in attendance. Enid, Wednesday, Bianca, Eugene, Yoko, Ajax, and Xavier had their own special reunion with Larissa, just to share how special it was getting to see your relationship unfold with Larissa in front of them. The Addams Clan was also in attendance, you would have loved to have seen them in all their wonderful strangeness.

Both of your daughters spoke at your funeral. Their words were filled with love and admiration for the life you led.

Just as Rowan had at your first funeral all those years ago, she sat right by Larissa in the front row, arm-in-arm. They comforted one another now as they did then. Their hands gripped one another and Rowan even cried in front of her, giving Larissa one of her most treasured memories of when the vampire first cried before her. Never would they have believed that their friendship could have ever been forged from you coming to Nevermore.

As the funeral ended, Larissa stood there, a daughter on each arm. They each laid a water lily on your grave and Larissa couldn’t help but smile when she thought of some of your last words, “The forest called her home.”

[poppletonink]

Review: Violet Bent Backwards Over The Grass

★★★☆☆ - 3 stars

"You can have a life beyond your wildest dreams all you have to do is change everything"

I want to preface this by making it clear that I love Lana Del Rey's music. I think her sound (though in many ways similar to Radiohead, who is another beloved artist for me) is really something special and her lyrics are worthy of worship. All this being said Violet Bent Backwards Over The Grass was not the greatest poetry collection I've ever read. Though, it definitely wasn't the worst as Milk and Honey by Rupi Kaur currently holds that title (and I can't see it being stolen by another collection anytime soon).

Some poems in this collection are stunning, especially the haikus. I found most often that there would be a few lines per longer poem that would be worthy of highlighting. However, I think my main issue with this collection was Lana's grammar. I know I am going to sound like the grammar police here, but it was really getting on my nerves reading this that rather than saying you the letter 'u' would be used and rather than saying with or without the letter 'w' would be printed. Common as it may be in modern society to use letter abbreviations in texting, I personally don't feel that it belongs in poetry.

The use of photographs to accompany the poems was something I really liked - it really added to the atmosphere of the book. Though the energy of this book was truly established in the poetry, through depressing outlooks on life and the heartbreaking cries of a writer weeping in her spilled words on paper. Violets Bent Backwards Over The Grass is an intricate and shockingly beautiful poetry collection, with many lines leaving a profound impact upon me. It is undoubtedly the epitome of sad girl poetry.

[loveaffaire]

Seasons

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings/tags: a bit of angst, fluff, cheating (not by Peter/reader), Pete being a hopeless romantic as always

Word Count: 1.3k, I swear these blurb requests are turning into full one shots because I love Peter being completely whipped by the reader :(

A/N: @spiderholland101 I’ll be honest, I’ve never heard any of those songs so I picked a bunch of lyrics and built a story around it, just 1.3k words of Peter being desperately in love with the reader! Enjoy <3

🤍JOIN MY SLEEPOVER🤍

Summer - Heaven help a fool who falls in love

Peter tried not to stare at you but it was hard when you were sitting two seats away from him in chemistry class. Your skin looked as soft as cotton, lips plump and covered in strawberry chapstick, hair softly shining in the sunlight coming through the window.

His heart would beat a little faster every time you’d laugh, his breath would hitch each time you’d run to him in a crowded room, a smile would find its way on his lips the second his phone would light up with a text message from you.

It’s gonna get messy so don’t fall in love with your best friend, you fool, he’d tell himself.

❥ ‑‑‑‑

Autumn - You've been on my mind girl like a drug

Peter stood still in the middle of the school entrance as he watched you kiss Harry, his hands in your hands, a smile on your lips. It was like getting shot in the head and no, he wasn’t exaggerating, that is exactly how it felt to see your best friend that you are in love with be in love with someone else.

He pulled himself out of his daydream of repeatedly punching Harry in the face and rushed towards you. You pulled away from your boyfriend as soon as you heard footsteps approaching you, a smile settled on your lips when you saw Peter.

“Ready to go?” Peter asked, completely ignoring Harry and you nodded. To his dismay, Harry didn’t let go of your hand without giving you a very steamy kiss right in front of him.

You made small talk on the way to his house and Peter tried to focus on anything other than the kiss you and Harry shared just a few minutes ago. And when you sat on his bed, eyebrows frowned in concentration over chemistry, Peter’s eyebrows were frowned for a whole other reason. Thoughts of you getting too busy in your love life and forgetting him creeped up on his mind and you noticed.

“What’s wrong, Pete?”

“Uh… can’t understand this question”

“You weren’t even looking at the question, you were looking at me” your voice low as you scanned his face, “did I do something?”

Peter’s eyes widened, “no, y-you didn’t do anything, nothing”

“Okay so what is it?”

Peter sighed, biting on his lip because he was nervous and too afraid to say something wrong but he decided to be honest, “just scared you’ll get too busy with Harry and stop hanging out with me, it’s just a thought”

You were taken by surprise by this but soon, the sound of your soft laughter filled the room, “forget about you? We’ve been friends since forever, no boy is ever going to come between us Peter”

Peter’s eyes glimmered at your words, his cheeks turning rosy as he processed your words.

“Anyway, I’m too scared that you’ll forget about me because I saw you hanging out with all those smart science kids earlier today” you teased, your forefinger wiggling in his face as he shook his head, smiling.

How can I forget about you when you’ve been on my mind like a drug, he thought to himself.

❥ ‑‑‑‑

Winter - I wonder what it's like to be loved by you

The cold came and the days turned ugly, one text message to Peter and he was running to your house in the middle of the night.

You saw Peter through your window and opened the door, running into his arms. The impact was so hard that he almost fell back as your hands clutched on his jacket.

“He cheated on me” you cried, voice strained from the previous screaming match with Harry over call.

Peter held you close, walking back inside your house and closing the door behind. As soon as he let go of you, you fell down to your knees and he got down right in front of you as he wiped your tears with his sleeves.

“He doesn’t deserve you, Y/N” he said sincerely. His hands holding the back of your head to make you look at him and he almost kissed you that night. But he didn’t because what if you push him away, one heartbreak was enough for tonight anyway.

As he watched you weep on his shoulder for a boy who clearly didn’t deserve you, he wondered how it felt to be loved by you and if he’ll ever get to be loved by you at all.

❥ ‑‑‑‑

Spring - Wouldn't it be nice to live inside a world that isn't black and white

The colours were a bit brighter than before, the leaves and the flowers blooming again in the soft spring wind. Just like them, you were blooming too. You were the old Y/N again, the same old Y/N who was there before Harry came along and ruined it.

The glow in your eyes was visible, your smile felt more real now and you felt more comfortable in your skin than you did 2 months ago. Peter even helped you pack a box of all the things that your ex-boyfriend left at your place and you later sold those things at a thrift store.

Peter started seeing more of you, he would either be at your place after school or you’d be at his and sometimes, you’d go to the ice cream place near his place on a hot day.

As he watched you munch on your ice cream cone, the vanilla on your lip looked a bit more appetising then it did when it was on the cone and he almost leaned in to have a taste.

“Is there something on my face”

“No”

“Why are you staring then?” you smiled and raised your eyebrows at him.

“Oh, shut up” he rolled his eyes, “come on, let me walk you home before it gets dark”

With you walking by his side and the way your knuckles gently brushed against his made him realise how much brighter his world looked now. How wonderful it was to live in a world which wasn’t black and white anymore and it was all because of you.

❥ ‑‑‑‑

Summer - Honey I love you

The sun was setting, both of you returning from the summer fair and he finally gained the courage to hold your hand on the way back home. The hot weather was making your palm sweaty but Peter couldn’t care less. You were literally here, holding his hand in yours and he didn’t want to let go.

“Peter”

“Yes?”

“Will you say it?”

Peter frowned in confusion, “say what?”

“You know what” you bit your lips, a bit of sadness in your eyes.

“I- I don’t know what you’re talking about” Peter stuttered.

Peter was clueless. For a straight A grade student, he was pretty dumb when it came to love and you.

“So you will just never tell me that you are in love with me?”

Peter halted in his step and that halted you in yours. His hand slightly loosened its hold on yours in horror but you were quick to tighten your hold on his hand, even tugging him closer to yourself so you both were face to face.

“You know?” He finally spoke up, voice in a whisper and mouth agape in shock.

“It’s hard to miss when you’re right there staring at me with your big brown doe eyes” you softly giggled, feeling a bit shy now, “and how you get flustered when I compliment you, how you always have my back and how you always pick me up, it’s obvious that it’s more than just… friendship”

Yes, you knew. You have been waiting for him to say something, anything at all to show you that he loved you but as time passed and still no word from Peter, you finally took matters in your own hands.

Peter was speechless and you have had enough, you sighed and let go of his hand. Peter almost collapsed when you placed your hands on either side of his face and pulled him in.

You filled the gap between you both as you pressed a soft peck to his lips and his eyes fluttered like butterfly wings, savouring in the feeling of the airy kiss. Your lips felt like a light feather, barely there but just enough to make him feel lightheaded for a second.

You pulled away quickly but then pressed your forehead to his and closed your eyes tightly, “honey, I love you”

You said it like a promise, your chest felt a little lighter when the words were finally out and Peter’s heart started racing in his chest again. When he finally processed what had happened, he didn’t waste another moment as he pulled you back in for a kiss.

“I love you” he whispered, words muffled with his lips never leaving yours, “I love you, Y/N”

He repeated the words multiple times, telling you ‘I love you’ for every single time he couldn’t in the past and your eyes watered at the intensity of emotions soaring in your chest.

As he stood there kissing you, his mind went back to last winter and how he wondered how it would feel to be loved by you but now he didn’t have to wonder anymore. He knew how it felt to be loved by you and it felt like heaven.

Anyway, hopeless romantic Peter, my beloved🥰

[muffindaddystyles]

Will mafia!h and Y/N will have babies? 🥺💓

IM SO SORRY TO TELL YOU THIS BESTIE BUT.... </3

39. " I'm not saying a goodbye."

It was raining. Skies a gloomy shade of cinereal. Harry’s sleek car came to a screeching halt infront of the vast threshold of his home -- his grin pearlish, eyes twinkling a spark as he gets out of the car not caring to close the door behind. He greets his staff and strides two steps together with a gorgeous bunch of his lovie’s favourite flowers now dewy with raindrops and his nose twitched upon sniffing the vanilla-y smell while passing the kitchen and with his beam never vanishing he leaned into the doorframe asking the people inside, “’Ave y'seen Y/N?” Only for them to shake their heads in uncertainty.

She hasn’t showed herself downstairs since morning and even though it’s very odd of her not to chirp around the mansion nobody went to knock at her door to inquire, they think she deserves privacy.

This time they should have because when Harry barged inside their room it was caliginous with curtains shut and lights dimmed to zero.

“Lovie?” His cheery voice clamoured against the walls, a sour feeling he couldn’t be aware of pinches him in throat as he bobbed his head around to look for her and it perked up when a shadow falls on his feet.

“Baby?” His smile quirked back onto his confused features and he narrowed his eyelids to take in her presence through the darkness of wardrobe, “Harry.” A shaky whisper floated towards him and before that sweet call she was falling against his chest.

“Y/N ... baby —-,” His stumped chuckle halted, his brain numbed for a moment when his fingertips brushed up her back to push her closer to him and they trembled as they collected the wetness there. His heart bleaks a stinging pain into it’s cords, his breath shuddered coldly, flowers falling sadly beside their feet and his eyes earths with tears of panic, angst and torment.

His fingertips coating in his love's thick blood.

“I –- ‘m .. you –.. you’re h-hu —- hurt,” He stammered through a whimper hand wrapping around the dagger whose half end’s stabbed into Y/N's spine, her weak frail body unresponsive though she could listen to him.

“Who did this to you! Who did this to you!?” His screams and cries startled everyone downstairs and they rushed up to see what’s happening, to be shocked by their sights of Y/N limp in Harry’s embrace.

He turned his neck to shout at them, “I need a hand t’help me!!” His eyes bloodshot and Niall his best-man scurried over to them as Harry carried Y/N and laid her on her tummy on the bed, he slips onto his knees putting his chin on the mattress to look in her hazy painful eyes -- tears caged in them but never flowing down.

“Harry ...” She mumbled grittily in agony lifting her shaky fingers to pet his face and like an affection starved kitten Harry doesn’t let her tire herself and gets closer to her himself, “Niall bring the first aid, it’s under the sink.” He commands him not letting his eyes drift from over her angelic face.

“You’re okay baby. You’re okay, I know how to stitch up knife wounds.” He sniffled sucking in a breath trying to be brave for her and she just smiled gorgeously, lips blue and cheeks draining out of her usual berry stain.

“Jesus. Harry she’s been stabbed thrice, those fuckers,” Niall’s words wavered in fear and sympathy for Y/N. He squeezed Harry’s shoulder as Harry sobbed upon hearing that, “No –-... no, no! It’s still okay yeah poppet? I’m g’na get y'alright.” He wanted to covers his eyes to block the hurting groans Y/N elicited and he cradled her soft face in his warm palms in comparison to her temperature, touching their temples to pray together.

“Harry li .. listen to —- to me,” She gasps eyes flittering over his shoulder towards Bambi and Thumper the two dogs that had gotten overly fond of her, Harry’s blurry gaze follows her enfeebled gesture for them to come near her.

They whined and howled sadly flopping beside Harry and Harry hiccupped into his elbow shaking his head when Y/N put her hand under their ears in effort to scratch them but wasn’t able to unfortunately, “Hi babies. You’re gonna look after dad after ‘m gone?” Everyone cried at that watching her soul leave their dull lives that watered colourful upon her arrival.

“Don’t say that! Don’t y'dare say that!” Harry sobbed rushing to hug her tightly, the front of his shirt loathing crimson and she hissed looping her arm against his neck when Niall pulled the dagger out from her lower spine gradually and slowly not to hurt her.

“’M so sorry baby, sorry for being the reason of y’pain.” His tears dampened her already sweaty crook of neck, “Pr – promise me t-that that you’ll have some —.. someone who lov‐-.. loves –--,” She whimpered. Her body jerked into him with a force and she pushed him weakly away to stitch her lips tenderly against his's.

“Tell me bubby. Ha—- have I loved y'enough?” She cooed into their kiss and Harry bolted his eyes shut, poisonous sobs wrecking out of his chest.

“Tell me before, I go ...” Her heartbeat started dropping insanely, her lips wobbled, toes curling with life excavating out of her, “Y'have. Y'have don’t go baby, I’m not saying a goodbye!” He cried showering her in kisses for the one last time and pets her hair, eyes closed praying she takes him with herself because he'd never recover from the pain of loosing the only person he loved more than himself, the person who made hum love himself.

“I love you ..” She whispered, her loving kind eyes locked against his’s and the pool of honey around her rims expanded, her lips parted around the gasping breaths and Harry begged and pleaded — a side of him no-one has ever witnessed as he twisted in anguish considering himself the unluckiest man on the earth for letting his lover go like this, in the worst possible way.

“I love you, I thought I’d never be capable of, y'made me worthy darling. I'll always love you baby....” He shrieked into her chest heaving her up gently to embrace her properly and even though he knew she was no more with him, he fooled himself into thinking so.

If it was possible he’d have clawed his ribs to pluck out his heart in return of hers and he felt like the sun and earth had crashed vanishing away the time spaces as he sat there crying and crying mourning the loss of his lovie that could never be healed by anything in this whole word.

He keeps on holding her, rocking back and forth as he lulls her to slumber of death.

It hurts. It hurts so bad.

His heart weeps.

His soul aches.

When rain stopped and that tranquil silence doomed over them, rage filled his every pore and vein.

He knew who did this. Harry has played dirty but he has never played unfair. It was this gang of companies who sabotaged and destructed the orphanages at the property which belonged to his mother (but the papers weren’t clear) to build restaurants and apartments there so Harry took revenge by burning acres of their illegal drug running underground factory and rebuilt the orphanages and took Y/N to one of their charity events.

She was the happiest he had ever seen her.

It’s like a gun barrel clicked in. A firecracker catching the fuse of ashe to burst everything into flames as Harry laid her with ever most tenderness and kissed her temple, her lifeless eyelids and her chapped lips.

Cleaned the streak of blood with his sleeve and didn’t wipe his tears away bashing out of the room, everyone stepped away as Niall lunged infront of him to stop him before he goes to cause damage to himself more than to them for being in such a vulnerable and weak state.

“Step away.” He growled angrily, gaze fiery and dangerous.

“No.” Niall sighed.

“I wouldn’t get her buried in sucha cold blood. She didn’t deserved this, hell nobody does.” Harry kissed his teeth together gripping at his hair ruthlessly, cheeks dry with tears, his limbs trembling, his head spinning.

“Anyone who wouldn’t follow my orders gets their kneecaps blow-off.” He grunted -- nostrils flaring and saying this he went away, snatching his guns from the console and ordered his men to find the security guards that had their duties at the main gates.

In just a day he hunted each of those monsters down like a hungry wolf and gave them such punished, tortured deaths that each one fell in Harry’s feet for his mercy but his heart was turned into a stone already because the only warmth it had there was because of one person and that person’s gone leaving him to survive in this hellhole alone while he dragged these bastards to the depths of firepits.

Once, coming back home to her. To his sunshine, to his soul and life, to his reasons of getting up every morning so he would get to spend time with her —- he broke down. Into shattered bits and pieces of remorse, guilt and sadness feeling himself so small and hurtable as he cried to himself all alone in their garden with no-one to console him where he’ll come to meet her daily.

He wants to rip his skin apart and set it on fire for his beating heart to stop, for it stop feeling.

He feels sick. Fainting, in urgency and desperation to hold his baby and never let go.

To lay down with her under the soil if that's possible.

his only reason to live.

His only beloved.

.

The wind giggles through pink leaves of cherry blossom tree, lush grass resting peacefully and Harry smiles to himself treading towards his two most favourite people in the world.

The spring being their heartiest month.

“Azalea! What y’chattering ‘bout t'mum?” He asks and nods proudly when his lil boy stands up from his cross position on the ground from beside his mother and brushes the grassy spikes from his cherry printed shorts with his little pudgy hands.

“My first day at school dada!” The four years old squeals and Harry scoops him up in his arms, kissing his cheek again amount less times, “Is that so, huh! huh!” He tickles his little bun.

Y/N was right. Isn’t she always. Harry chuckles. Even if she’s gone he still feels loved from her, she’s in the rains, in the sweaters he wears when he feels shallow, in the scent of his pillows, she’s in the vanilla smell of their favourite cupcakes – she’s in his dreams and that name of their son, Azalea.

She always wanted to name their first born Azalea, a blooming flower that happens to be a vibrant pink, a gift of spring, are floriferous in sunshine and she'd always say that Harry would be their sun.

Their ever source of happiness.

Azalea was three days old when his mother died and Harry took him home even though not sure of his own decision but something in those little eyes that matches his mommy made Harry’s heart attract towards him so much he brought him without another thought.

A home he built with Y/N. The curtains of the mansion still remains pushed back wide, flower vases on every furniture, not a day goes by when anyone doesn’t misses her and the ducklings has grown so much that Y/N would have been spinning in happiness around.

Nothing has changed, life’s fleeting for everyone except for Harry. He counts each day and night that goes without her beside him in his sleep, in the little picnics with Azalea and Niall, in the story reading at nights with his baby, in kitchen to watch the winters first rain prattling against that one window that’s old enough to carry the remains of his ancestors, she’s never there to share a noodle pot with him while he sits and eat alone, never there to patch his favourite socks back, to kiss his forehead whenever he leaves home, to call him sweet names and to laugh with him on his silly jokes, to do thumb fights, to get angry with him whenever he refuses to layer himself in cold.

Never.

Never physically. But, she’s always there in his heart, her presence lurks around him and he could feel the warmth of her wrapping around him whenever he falls asleep watching telly.

“What did y'learn today bubba?” He asks Azalea and grins cheekily when Azalea babbles, “Colours!”

“That’s fuckin’ amazin'!” At that a huge gush of breeze hits him in face a tiny branch of the tree they’re standing under falls on his head.

“Kay' kay fine! No cursing.” He squeaks in defence pouting down at the grave of his lovie and his face splits into a grin when his hair glittered up with cherry blossom leaves.

“We miss you very much,” His voice heavy and sad. He gulps chokingly and blinks away the glossiness, stroking a thumb up Azalea cheek who’s sitting in Harry’s lap.

Every evening they come to meet Y/N, the hole in his heart couldn’t fill up of her void but the soothing feeling of relief that she’s in their garden and nearer to him has lessened the grief.

“G’na meet you tomorrow, our baby’s mighty hungry.” He chuckles hearing the grumbling noises coming from Azalea’s belly.

“You’re so cheeky baby.” His eyes glimmers and he feels himself swooning into breeze, “How’s it going in heaven?” He asks airily tracing his initials beside her beautiful name engraved at the tombstone and it’s like she’s scolding him when he gets a nip on his pointy finger.

“Azalea kiss mommy a goodbye.” Harry breaks into laughter when Azalea bobs his head and almost tumbles of his daddy’s lap in the effort to reach the tombstone.

“Goodbye beautiful.” Harry whispers kissing the top of her tombstone and his heart bursts into lilacs when once again he’s showered into petal like leaves.

“I love you too, baby.” Finally he has accepted to say goodbyes.

[clavicuss-vile]

[FIC] Mara and the Wolves

Fair warning some of the names wont make sense unless you’ve read my mara post lmaooo uhh tekuta-no-trinimac = pre-boethiah trinimac, ame-no-astarte = altmeri mara.

ok lets go!

“I give you one task, Mara, before you may see your husband born anew of Lorkhan’s love.” Kyne spoke from atop Snow-Throat, looking down on the weeping spirit from the betrayer’s lands. “You will be my handmaid, when my children arrive, but first you must learn the craft. Discard your bloodied gown, create from the earth – as we did – your new form. There are beasts of all kinds in my kingdom, but you would be wise to start with the sheep, Little Lamb.”

So the elven spirit walked from the mountain as Kyne withdrew to the heavens, her sodden gown doing little to protect her from the elements - though her veins still ran with ichor, she was not immune to the cold. She walked through the frigid tundra, searching for the hardy sheep the Wind Goddess spoke of, until a howl broke the silence.

It was a broken, sad howl. The spirit of compassion noticed it immediately. From her left, Astarte- no, Mara, watched a wolf limp out from the treeline. She gasped, wavy locks of pink and orange obstructing her view as she stepped backwards in shock. When she next looked, there were three, then four, then seven. They limped up to her, and the Gentle Lady kneeled, putting out her hand.

“Are you hurt? Come here, let me see you. It’s okay sweetheart, I won’t hurt you.” Mara promised, her words dripping with honey and love. The wolves approached, and she lent a shaky hand atop their heads, giving them all a gentle pet. They seemed to understand that they were safe now, that they could rest. They could finally rest. Rest…

Mara held back a sob in her throat. She’d been sent specifically to create a new form from whatever wool or hide she could find, and here they were, practically lining themselves up for her to complete her task… but she did not know how. She cried that their deaths would go to waste, until another figure emerged from the darkness. A tall, horned figure. He donned curved and dotted paintings on his torso – as if a deer’s spots – and a kilt of furs to his about his waist. Mara stood tall, but this figure stood taller as he rushed towards the scene of death.

“My wolves,” he began. Mara recognised him as one of the Demons – but not one of those involved in her beloved husband’s murder. He was a demon of the woods, and he was in the good graces of Kyne, she had been told. Even so, she was taken aback by the sadness that laid so bluntly and un-hidden in his voice. “My wolves… You showed them kindness.”

“I- yes.” Mara whispered. “They were afraid.”

“They were.”

“What hurt them?”

“Sickness. ‘Natural Order’ that Peryite calls it. They were hungry. Found a herd of dead deer and feasted, thinking it their lucky day. I could only save two pups before the disease took them.”

The gods stood in silence for a few beats, looking sadly over the fallen wolves, until the horned spirit spoke again.

“You are Ame-no-Astarte, correct?” The horned god asked.

“Not anymore. I am Mara.”

“Right. I am Hircine- …But you marched with Auri-El did you not? What brings you to the lands of his victim’s widow?” The demon asked, curiosity only barely shadowing the mournful look over his features.

“Demons killed my husband, Tekuta-no-Trinimac, though I am told he is Tsun in these lands. I came seeking revenge for my love.” Hircine scoffed at the word demon, but allowed the widowed spirit to speak. It would be unfair to deny an answer to a question, after all. “I came seeking Lorkhan’s Widow, that she might have empathy for another such as herself.”

“A smart plan. I wish I had the ability to think such as you for a solution to my problem. My poor wolves – all my animals – so many die to these evil sicknesses. So many die, and I can only save the few.” Hircine mourned, clutching two fluffy, deep brown wolf pups, still heavy in their winter coat, close to his bare chest. They squirmed in his arms, itching to be back with their pack, not realising they could never go back.

“Hircine…” Mara pondered on the name for a few heartbeats. “You are Et’ada of Instinct, no? You could bless your hunters with the instinct to avoid anything they have not killed themselves, lest they risk disease.”

The horned god’s eyes glowed a bright, brilliant gold, as if all the ichor in his veins had concentrated into his eyes in that moment. Even his painted patterns seemed to glow with a new vigour.

“That is a good idea! You do not even comprehend how many lives you have just saved with such simple words. I am in your debt, Lady. Whatever you ask, I will assist. But first – my question was not entirely answered. Why are you here, specifically? In the middle of nowhere under Kyne’s Sky?”

“I am on a task. The Warrior-Widow has crafted me a new name, and has given me the task to craft my new form.” Mara opened her mouth to continue, but closed her pink lips slowly and looked to the dawn. “But I don’t know how.”

Hircine contemplated for a moment, then looked down at his poor wolves, and the wriggling pups in his arms, too young to understand.

“You showed my wolves love in their final moments. That was… Good of you. It is a debt I must repay. You gave me the cure to my wolves’ sickness. It is another debt I must repay. For the first,” He began, handing the little brown pups in his arms into the care of the young spirit. “I give you the last of the pack. In your care they will live for as long as you will it. Show them the same love you showed their family, is my one request. For my second debt, I will teach you to skin these wolves, how to tan their hides into leather, how to fashion the leathers and furs into armour. None will mistake you for one of Auriel’s when you are draped in the fur of a beast of the north.” Hircine promised.

[pen-observing]

My Only One iii

Diavolo and you have been together for a century. While time flies, the last decade has not been kind to either of you. He is about to become the King and while you have subjected yourself to transformations, just to live with your beloved, the pressure is unending. You live your life publicly. It is no luxury. Not having an heir when 100 years have passed tears you apart- just as much as it divides those that you inevitably rule. A solution comes like the last ray of hope. Go to an enchanted fortress used for fixes of the worst kind. Subject yourself to even more hexes to have the possibility of producing an heir. It’s just for a year. A short time for those immortal. A long time for those in a complex relationship, especially when for the sake of efficiency, letters are the only means of communication you are allowed to have with outsiders. 

Warnings: none

i / ii / _  / iv

When was the last time you felt something good? When was the last time you felt a spark of positivity, a light? You did not know and neither did Karasu. The truth is that Karasu has never observed you with such watchful eyes; has never felt such pity upon your soul.

Karasu did not dare to leave your side.   Someone, anyone, had to witness your existence in that utter solitude for you to remain halfway sane.  

What does humanity mean in these moments of helpless weeping and fighting?

To you? It meant a mask of stability in front of those that experimented on you. It was the last thing you could grasp. You put up with everything silently; with a blank stare as the witches questioned about your state.  

Short answers. Fake smiles. Lifeless eyes.  

They noticed something was wrong but they did not care enough to question about matters outside of their job. Why would they be surprised about weakness some human carried? It was inevitable after all- in their eyes and hearts you possessed no strength to redeem you as a future ruler.  

You noticed that their mannerism nonchalantly spoke those inner thoughts. The watchful eyes noticed their behaviour, Karasu’s ears overheard their gossip. They had no right to judge you at all. They had absolutely no idea about how you fought for an inkling of sanity. Karasu sometimes felt scared of you. Nothing in all these years was as broken as you were.

Your room became a place of chaos. Nothing was in place. There was no order.  Clothes were scattered around- some of them ripped.   The walls had thin marked lines that your nails made- in moments when you were sure sanity was leaving completely while mocking you.  

Perhaps, what was even more concerning was the fact that the only place to remain somewhat orderly was the desk in front of the window. Was this place the only chance you had to remember your past glory? Past happiness? Past hope?

Some nights you just cried without uttering a word. Internally cursing the fact that the love you thought you had was not pure as love itself ought to be. Some nights you laughed at yourself for being so stupid, so idiotic, so human. Some nights exhaustion would settle in and force you to sleep while nightmares surrounded your dream land and real life.  

Karasu had no way of helping you. Karasu desperately wished its wings could hold down at least some part of your sadness. It was impossible. Karasu thought you were impossible.

The diary started back when you were living for the hope of love was damaged. It was filled with tear stains and smudged lines. It had curses written- Diavolo’s name scribbled and then crossed. It had nothing but pain inside. For where did agony lie if not between those pages your hands desperately filled?

You did all of that yet remained stoic when questioned about the fertility treatment? You did all of that yet you remained static every time a new letter from Diavolo would find its way to you?   How could you live like this?   Barely.   How could you act like this?   Was this humanity?

Every letter you received was longer than the previous one by a paragraph. His guilt was increasing. He must have carried on with the affair. Diavolo was trying to build a false lullaby. The letters only tantalized you. They were obnoxiously showing sweet words as a lie.   Everything that Diavolo did was utterly wicked.  

Yet, so were you.

Writing letters back making sure they were not filled with passive-aggressive motions. Deciding on just the perfect length to maintain the image of unsuspecting. It took practice to lie like that. It took so much time and energy to word them properly. It took Karasu everything to look over them and make sure they were fitting. Karasu was loyal to you- not to Diavolo.  

On another starry night was when Karasu dared to ask something other than words of concern. It happened just as you were sealing the envelope shut after realising how much the words at the top of the paper- ‘To my only one’- were losing power in your heart.

“Why...do you continue on with this torture that you are living?”

Sealing it neatly and setting it on the table; you extended a hand towards your old friend. It felt cold. Usually Karasu would scold you for petting with icy hands but when your life was undeniable misery- it could be forgiven.

“You ask me why. You should know already. I have to be strong.”

Forget the position of the future ruler- you must be strong yourself, my dear.

Karasu did not question you after that. This was seemingly your only way of dealing with the cruel game lady luck played.

This continued on. You needed a final push to regain some control over the sanity that seemed to be slipping in and out of shaky hands.  

And it happened. It came. Its bells victoriously rang welcoming you back to life.  

Month five marked the arrival of two letters. The golden one was from Diavolo; as usual. The other one in a charming black envelope; scented in roses, oh so nostalgic: finally grounded you.  

The brothers. It was from the brothers.   In a rush you opened it first. Gold details only decorated lies. How could you forget that you still had pact marks manifested on your skin? Such a fool. They could feel an inkling of how you suffered all this time.

The letter was short- forget that- it seemed like a note. They were almost never open with their feelings, there was no need for them to write long words that would drip honey and magic dust. They were not guilt ridden.  

All that the black envelope contained was a photo of all 8 of you, in the garden of the house. You were all so content. You were so happy. Doing them favours just to snap this memory was not.easy.at.all. 

This was taken before Diavolo. This was taken when you were just a human; just yourself, without the title of future ruler hanging over every.single.thing. It was taken when romantic ties to Diavolo were non-existent and therefore could not choke you. 

You smiled gently at it. Karasu saw the light in your eyes chase away the shadows.  

On the back of the photo; written out in Lucifer’s beautiful cursive letters but conveying all of their feelings were words that meant more than anything Diavolo could say.

“Come back to us. The way that you were, the way that you are.” 

You knew what the meaning was. Regard. Care. Acceptance. All in honesty.

And indeed, my dear, you will.

(Aqua didn’t you say it would be a two fic chapter, then three and now there is more? Uhm...Well, indeed, my dear, I did- however I get carried away while writing sometimes so.. this way it seems easier. Please tell me what you think! Does this fic even make you feel anything? I try to focus more on your feelings than Diavolo.)

[imagine-myhero]

Hi there! Could I request a short scenario with Todoroki and Hawks (if you can only do one at a time that’s okay!) who are arguing with the reader and all of a sudden they just start having a panic attack and hyperventilating due to previous toxic relationships so they try to comfort their s/o? 🥺💕 i understand if you don’t want to write the request, and I absolute love your pieces btw! Have a great day 💖

Author’s Note: Thank you all so much for your patience with my unofficial hiatus. The holidays were a lot and now I’m on my final semester of college so life be hectic AF. Anyways, thanks for the request and hope you enjoy!

Shouto Todoroki

It had felt like ages since you’d last seen Shouto beyond a quick peck on the cheek in passing, and even that was becoming rare. It had felt even longer since the two of you spoke casually and comfortably without something pulling one of you away.

Crime rates had risen lately, causing a lot of overtime on Shouto’s end and keeping him away from home until the unreasonable hours of the night when you were already asleep. In the early mornings when you would wake and get ready for your own job, he’d still be dead asleep from the long night before. Of course you wouldn’t wake him— you understood he needed his rest, but that didn’t stop the ache of loneliness and feeling like the love of your life was slowly fading away from settling in your heart. .

Even when the two of you had a moment to spare with each other, Shouto was becoming moody and short with you. It almost seemed as if Shouto viewed quality time with you as another job he had to do on top of everything else.

Maybe it was one too many dinners gone cold, one too many missed calls, or one too many brushed off touches, but whatever it was it made you speak up.  Shouto was particularly stressed out that night, but you chose to ignore it. Instead you asked him if he still had feelings for you, pleaded that he try and make more time for you, and demanded he tell you why he’d been so distant lately.

“I have more than enough on my plate without you badgering me like this.” He answered with a disapproving look.

“‘Badgering’? Shouto, it’s been days since we last had a real conversation, weeks since we had a real kiss, and I can’t even remember the last time we had sex.” You argued. Normally you weren’t so blunt, but you really couldn’t beat around the bush anymore.

Shouto could sympathize with your sentiments; it had been a long time since you spent time together in any sense. But it wasn’t like he was just goofing off. Shouto had an important job and you claimed to understand that when you started dating him.

“I’ve been really busy (Name)…” He sighed.

“I know, but…”

“Enough!” Shouto said firmly, louder than he had intended, and you jumped at the suddenness. When you met his gaze, you received a look you hadn’t seen in years, and never from Shouto. Icy venom and burning anger flooded his eyes, his lips pressing down into a disdainful scowl. You felt small and insignificant beneath his stare, a feeling that slapped you with memories you’d much rather forget.

Tears flooded your eyes and you quickly turned away before Shouto could see, but he didn’t have to. He knew the moment the harsh command left his mouth what he’d done because the voice that came out didn’t sound like his at all.

It sounded like his father’s.

And only when he forcefully relaxed his face did he realize how deep he was glaring at you. All of his emotions extinguished, leaving nothing but a repentant smoke curling from the ashes.

“Shit…” He muttered, swallowing thickly and staring at your heaving back in shame. “I’m… I’m so sorry, (Name). I don’t know what—…”

You moved to leave the room, but suddenly his cool hand enveloped your wrist gently yet securely. You whipped your head back to look at him, tears streaming down your face and body flushed with the heat of anxiety, and you see the sorrowful and broken eyes of your beloved.

“S-Shouto…” You whimpered forlornly, hiccuping and unable to catch your breath. Immediately, Shouto embraced you, holding you tightly as you clung to him and shook with tears and sharp gasps.  Shouto wanted to beg for your forgiveness, but knew he had no right to ask. He didn’t deserve it; you had no obligation to ever forgive him. But after all this was caused because he was neglecting you like a fool, he couldn’t bear to let you walk away and be alone again.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, that was unforgivable.” He said softly, because he refused to let you face any more of his anger— even if it was at himself this time.

“I-It’s okay…” You sniffled.

“No, it’s not okay… I swear I’ll do everything in my power to make sure this never happens again. I’m sorry.  I’m taking the rest of the week off to be here with you, if you’ll still have me…”

You listened to him silently and then nodded, shakily responding, “I love you…”

Shouto’s grip tightened on you and you breathed in his comforting scent, feeling loved when he pressed his lips to the crown of your head.

“I love you too, sweetheart. Always. I won’t make you feel lonely again.”

Hawks

You were only worried, and Keigo knew that, but he was just so mad at himself for letting you find out what he was doing with the League of Villains. He was mad at himself for having lied to you about it, he was terrified at the fact that you’re involved now because you knew, he was dreading your begging for him to stop when he couldn’t, and all of these emotions created a storm in his mind and the next thing he knew he was snapping at you.

“Keigo, you could be killed!” You pleaded, the thought alone making you feel sick. Hawks ran his hand through his windswept hair and clenched his jaw tightly. Like he needed you to remind him of that. His fingers drummed restlessly against his thigh and while he did everything he could not to look at you. “Please talk to your superiors. There must be some other way—.”

“There isn’t, okay?! So just drop it!” Keigo roared back at you, finally making eye contact and you froze at what you saw in them. His usually warm, sweet, honey-colored eyes were now darkened, sharp, and burning with anger. The aggression in his voice and face was all too familiar to you and you found your muscles seizing up with terror and your voice caught in your throat. Keigo initially didn’t notice your reaction while he continued, voice raising, “You just don’t get it. It’s so damn complicated and I’m the only one who can fucking—!”

Keigo stopped yelling immediately as soon as he saw it. He had taken a step toward you while he was trying to explain himself, his wings ruffling out in frustration, and you flinched hard, your arms flying up in between you and him and eyes squeezing shut. He felt his chest tighten and his throat dry up; he didn’t know how to react or what to say. Instantly his wings folded back in, further than normal as if to hide their very existence and make himself seem as small as possible.

“(Name)…?” He called your name quietly, concern bleeding into his expression. You didn’t notice. You could only focus on how you couldn’t slow down your breathing or put down your arms from shielding yourself. You tried to tell yourself you’re okay— that Keigo hadn’t even touched you—but you couldn’t seem to think straight.

“(Name).” Keigo said your name again, more urgently this time but trying desperately to remain calm. He was panicking at how scared you looked. His stomach twisted with dread when he realized you thought he was going to hit you.

“I-I’m sorry.” You said quickly, forcing your arms down though you’re unable to bring them further than your chest or straighten them out. Hawks flinched when you apologized. He wished he didn’t say anything. He didn’t know if you were apologizing for your reaction or if it was a reflex statement to try and blunt his anger. But he wasn’t angry— not at you. And he didn’t want you to apologize for being scared. He scared you. He’s the one who should be…

“Don’t.” He whispered, shaking his head, “Don’t apologize. Don’t ever apologize. I’m sorry, this is my fault. I promise I’m not mad, I would never hurt you I swear. I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m so sorry.” Keigo began to ramble, feeling nothing short of horrible for causing this reaction in you.

Inside your frightened haze, you heard the comforting tone in his voice, the soft croon of guilt and regret and sweetness. You’re reminded that this is your Hawks— your Keigo. He wasn’t gaslighting you, wasn’t drunk, wasn’t violent… He’s just as scared as you right now and he’s sorry.  

Tears welled up in your eyes and you stepped forward, shoving yourself into Keigo’s body and weeping freely. Immediately his arms wrapped around you, holding you securely but not too tightly. Hands stroked your hair softly and rubbed your back, and you cried even more at the gentle touches.

“It’s alright, I promise I never meant to scare you like that. I let my emotions get the better of me, but I promise I’m not angry at you. I know you were just scared… I’m scared too…” Keigo said softly, voice shaking slightly while he held you closer and wrapped his wings around the two of you.

“I trust you…” He heard you say meekly, clutching his shirt tighter and nuzzling against him slightly. Keigo pressed his lips together and buried his head in the crook of your neck, squeezing his eyes shut and choking back a whimper.

“Thank you, baby…I won’t let you down again.”

[mai-sau]

“Please don’t hide from me.” for Russigon (also welcome to the server!)

THANK U FOR WAITING THIS LONG THIS TOOK A WHOLE FOREVER AND A HALF AFHUJKGHNWISGHNLK I had a lot of fun writing this one!! Thank you for prompting (and thank you for the welcome!!), and I hope you enjoy!

Prompt: “Please don’t hide from me.”

It had started out simple enough, really. Maedhros had been resting in Mithrim for a time; his wounds healed as best they would, his kingship passed over to Fingolfin as smoothly as it could, and he was back to attending to business as often as he should. Which is to say: at all hours of the day.

And life went on. It was laughably simple, how easily the days passed. Here, time did not eke out like a sluggish wound for the sheer malice of such a thing. Elves rushed by him in their daily duties, councils convened and dismissed, and the dawns came and went. And Maedhros oversaw these elves, participated in those councils, and welcomed the dawns in the shadow of nightmares.

It was simple enough, really.

Throughout it all, Fingon was a blessing. During the day, he offered both precious wells of laughter and quiet companionship. When he wasn’t off conducting his own duties, he would come find Maedhros in the library (as he often was in his free time, the fuzzy silence of wooden shelves and crisp pages a balm to his nerves) and they would pass hours leafing through tomes, chatting in hushed tones, or simply gazing out the arching windows to the city below. 

Maedhros liked staring into the lake most of all, content to watch the sunset gleam and glimmer across its surface. Maedhros thought he was quite adept at the art of staring and mind-wandering, after decades chained up on that accursed cliff, or left waiting for the next torture as his body smeared a stone cold floor ruddy red -

Well. It was simple enough.

And at nights, Fingon would hold him close through his bitter nightmares, whispering sweet assurances that he was safe, he was in Hithlum, he was cherished. Occasionally it was Maedhros who did the holding, his beloved awaking with a terrible shiver that would not cease until long after the sun warmed the skies. Those nights were far worse, in Maedhros’ opinion.

But they went on, and they kept living, and the days kept passing by. It was easy.

Until it wasn’t.

It started with a simple touch. An act of comfort even, which made Maedhros all the more sickened by his own foul reaction. In one of their councils, someone had mentioned the pressing need to discuss the captive elves of Angband, their mind turning, and what it meant for Hithlum’s defenses to have such lethal weapons hidden as friendly faces; under the table, Fingon reached out a hand to grasp Maedhros’ own. 

Why he did Maedhros could not entirely say, perhaps it was to ease any distress at the mention of captivity, perhaps it was to soften the blow of indirect suspicion. All he did know was that as soon as Fingon’s hand - the same hand that had stroked his shaking side on the back of Thorondor, had steadied his spoon when Maedhros was still early and frail in his healing, had flipped the worn pages of their books for the evening - closed around his own, Maedhros was repulsed. 

He tamped the feeling down as swiftly as possible, trying to ignore the prickle of panic that raced through his veins pulsing out from that one point of contact. Nonetheless, for all his effort he could not relax the sudden tension in his body. Fingon had surely felt it, hand in his own. He gave him a concerned glance before squeezing even tighter, likely assuming Maedhros’ distress sprung from the topic of conversation. Maedhros felt the vague urge to vomit.

Afterwards, he was furious with himself. How dare he be disgusted with Fingon’s touch? Fingon, who had done nothing at all to warrant such distress. 

Nothing, except - Maedhros considered, before banishing the thought with such grief and guilt that for the rest of the day he carried around the heavy burden of tears not allowed to fall. He would not allow them to. How dare he weep over such ungrateful self pity - there were far greater things -

But it kept happening: whether a squeezed hand at another council meeting, a gentle hand in his as they made their way to dinner, or even a soft hand laid over his own in the silence of the library, Maedhros felt the same rapid revulsion flood his senses. 

To make matters more confusing, he did not feel like this at every touch he received; perhaps he could have reasoned to himself it was only a shadow of the pain endured in Angband. But Maedhros realized with growing dismay that it was only Fingon’s touch, and only upon his hand.

You know, a treacherous, sad voice reminded him. You know why.

I do, Maedhros thought with no small amount of self loathing. And that is why I must do better.

Fingon, clever as he was, caught on quickly enough.

“Nelyo?” he asked, after another ruined attempt at comfort in the library. He had reached out his hand to rub his thumb across the back of Maedhros’, only for Maedhros to tense as taut as a bowstring once again. And once again, Fingon slowly drew his hand back, brow furrowing as he turned to face Maedhros fully.

“Yes?”

Fingon seemed hesitant, unsure. “Are you okay?”

“Of course I am. I’m here, aren’t I?” Maedhros tried to tease with a grin he knew was half-hearted at best.

“Yes, it’s just…” Fingon bit his lip, before something set in his eyes, and he continued on without hesitation. “Sometimes, you seem to recoil at my touch. Would you prefer I not, from now on? Touch you, that is. It’s alright if you do.”

“No!” Maedhros blurted. Immediately, he quieted his voice at Fingon’s widened eyes and the sound of his own harsh echo through the library - empty as it was - but the nervous twinge remained in his tone. “No, I adore your touch. Losing it - I could not bear such a thing.”

“But Maedhros,” Fingon said. “When I do, you tense so horribly and get the most strained look on your face. Please, I don’t wish to cause you harm or remind you of anything unpleasant.”

“You’re not,” Maedhros lied. “It’s just me. My body endured many… stresses, in Angband. These are just the shadows of the Enemy, nothing more.”

Fingon was silent for a moment. Eventually, he dropped his gaze to the table between them, its surface laden with books of all shapes and sizes that they had been exploring together. With a start, Maedhros saw his eyes begin to glisten, and he looked ashamed. 

“Are you sure,” Fingon said, voice thick. “That it is only the shadows of the Enemy you feel?”

“What do you mean?” Maedhros asked wearily, knowing damn well what he meant.

“Nelyo,” Fingon choked out. “You only hurt when I touch your hand.”

And with this, Fingon burst into tears. Flushed with an entirely new panic at the sight, Maedhros rushed to embrace him. Enveloped in his arms, voice low despite their solitude in the library at this time of the evening, Fingon cried tender apologies into his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry Nelyo, I’m so sorry, if there were any other way, if I could have just broken those damn chains, I’m so sorry -”

Maedhros shushed him, though he felt his own throat grow tight. Guilt crept up his chest.  “Shh, love, you did everything you could. I would be dead if not for your wise decision. You saved me. You brought me home. I love you, and do not blame you one bit. It’s just my own body’s confusion - I am the one who should be sorry, to be so ungrateful -”

Fingon hiccuped and drew back. “Ungrateful?” He asked, incredulous. “Nelyo, I cut off your hand.”

“To save my life!” Maedhros cried. “If it weren’t for you, I would be dead. I begged you to kill me, and still you saved me.”

Fingon’s eyes softened. “Dearest, that doesn’t change the fact that you were hurt.”

“But I understand why,” Maedhros insisted, the frustration of these past weeks spilling out of him. “I understand why, and it was the kindest hurt given to me in those wretched mountains, so why do I only suffer their shadow in dreams, but my body can’t accept the one person who hurt me to help me?”

Wiping at his stinging eyes, Maedhros trembled. He felt wetness on his knuckles, rushing down his cheeks. “I don’t understand why!”

It was Fingon’s turn to reach out as if to embrace him, before his arms faltered midair. “Nelyo - I - can I hold you?”

“Yes,” Maedhros sobbed. “Just please don’t touch my hand I’m so sorry.”

“Of course,” Fingon murmured, and wrapped him tight in a hug. Slow as honey, he stroked Maedhros’ hair, letting his fingernails glide across his scalp and spine. How long they stayed like this Maedhros couldn’t tell, but after a while his tears began to dry and his body became his own again.

“My dear Nelyo,” Fingon said, long after he had quieted. He still ran his hand soothingly through his hair, down his back, and up again. “You are allowed to feel this way, as awful as I imagine it must be. I know you are loving, and grateful, and trying your best. I still hurt you, in a very permanent way at that, and it’s natural for your body to recognize it. It’s ok to be afraid.”

Maedhros breathed in deep, once, twice, like he would during heavy nights. He sighed against Fingon’s shoulder, clad in the smooth cerulean silks of his evening robes. There was a wet patch staining the silk. “This body can be such a bastard.”

“But it is your body, so I love it all the same.” Fingon assured. Slowly, Maedhros drew back, and saw a smile twitch at the corners of his lips. “As I love the bastard that inhabits it.” he teased.

Maedhros snorted. “As always, dearest, I regret to inform you of your dreadful taste.”

Fingon broke into a full grin. “Why, of course. And I regret to inform you that I simply do not care.” 

His face grew solemn again, and he reached a hand up to caress his cheek. Maedhros leaned into the touch. He let his eyes flutter shut. 

“I do love you, you know?” He heard Fingon’s quiet voice. “Love you as the kind, resilient ner you are. You are more than precious to me.”

Maedhros opened his eyes, locking his gaze with the dark eyes of his beloved. “I know. As I love the bravest ner I’ve ever met. So full of courage, to love so wholly.” Saying this, he kissed his palm.

Fingon smiled, radiant and warm. Rising from his seat at the table, he began to gather the books into organized piles. “Well then, it’s getting quite late. I’d say it’s about time for bed, wouldn’t you?”

“Of course,” Maedhros said, and rose to tidy up their books with him. “Oh, can we take this one on gardening back to our room? There was a bit on lissuin I wanted to finish before I forget.” 

“Certainly,” Fingon said, and set it aside. “Nelyo?”

“Yes?”

“I know it doesn’t happen all the time, but… would it be okay if I asked, before I touched you? And if you ever would feel more comfortable if I did not touch you at all, you can always tell me, even if it’s just certain areas or - or -” Fingon paused in his book arrangements, grasping for words. “Just - please don’t hide from me, love. I want you to tell me. I want you to get what you need, even if it’s space.”

Maedhros felt his throat tighten again, though his heart was far brighter this time. “Of course,” he answered. “Thank you.”

The slow, content smile returned to Fingon’s face. Together, they finished organizing the books and gathered them up in their arms to return at the reshelving cart by the great entrance doors.

“There now,” Maedhros said, dropping the hefty tomes down on the cart. “That was simple enough, wasn’t it?”

[one-shot-plus-size]

From Sons of Anarchy to Mayans MC

Jax's sister must hide from the revenge of SAMCRO enemies, goes to Mayans MC Santo Padre. And he catches the eye of a la presidente.

Chapters 13/20

Sorry for any mistakes, English is not my first language. They will accept any attention and criticism :)

Part 12

Pov Olivia

I was staring at the briefcase that was lying just before me. I was afraid of what I could find there, drumming my fingers against the table and biting my lower lip. 

- Either now or never - I breathed and opened the briefcase.

The first thing that struck me was a picture of Clay. I grabbed it between my fingers and lifted it gently. The picture was probably taken in the rectory. On his neck you could clearly see the entrance wound from the bullet. I knew very well how he died, nothing surprised me. I put the picture on the table, the next picture was a picture of my brother's greatest love - Tara. I never liked this woman, she manipulated my brother but I never wished her death. My brother was happy with her, at least apparently. She gave him a wonderful son, Thomas. And now her body was also lying on a metal table. I was afraid what her death could do to my brother. At the bottom of the picture there was an inscription "Cause of death: skull injury". I put the picture next to Clay's picture. Another one that stood in front of my eyes was a picture of Juice. The best hacker in the club, nothing was impossible for him. His face was so calm, without any signs of tiredness or nerves. But there was a knife cut on his neck. Execution, he had to get behind someone's skin. So many things happened in Charming that I had no idea about. I looked at his face and only after a while did I realize that tears were running down my cheeks. I wiped them with my hands. The next picture landed next to the previous ones. However, I was not ready for the next picture.  

- Bob - I moaned.

A weep came out of my mouth, one side of his face was massacred, an obvious shot. My beloved uncle Bob, I loved him as my family. He always gave me good advice, he always listened to me. And when I had a bad day he baked banana bread for me. I smiled sadly, he didn't deserve such a death although I didn't really know what had happened. I did not know any details, but I loved him so much. I went through another photo quickly. Unser, dear and kind Sheriff Charming. He helped the club the best he could, wanted to do well and ended up like the others. When I moved the picture, I saw very well known dark hair with light streaks. 

- Mom - I whispered - no, it is not possible.

When I moved the picture, I cried like a child, my mother passed away. My birth mother was dead and my brother did not tell me about it. It couldn't have happened, it was some fucking joke. I looked around the room, hoped that someone would jump out and say it was a joke. That Gemma would immediately enter the room and shout "Surprise bitch". But it did not happen, I was sitting alone, my body was shivering. I was afraid of what the next picture shows, I expected the worst. And I was not mistaken much, my brother.

- What the fuck is going on here - I shouted, the door behind me opened. 

- I hear you got to the best - Potter smiled - I'm sorry.

He sat across from me, my tears fell freely from my eyes. 

- What the fuck is this about? - I was staring at him - where did you get the pictures? This is a fucking joke, right?

- Sorry, but no, do you want to know the story of all this? - he woven his fingers on the table.

- I don't know - My voice was trembling.

A thousand thoughts flew through my head for a second, I expected everything. - I'll tell you two reasons why your brother died - he smiled softly - it will be short and fast. 

I was staring at my brother's picture, his body was covered with a white tarp right up to his neck. His face wore numerous abrasions and bruises, if it wasn't for his specific blonde hair it would be hard to recognize him. 

- So your beloved mother, in an act of jealousy, killed your brother's wife - his voice was calm - well, Jackson found out about it, as you can see, he wasn't happy with the turn of events.

- You're implying that my brother killed our mother ?- I broke off the chair. 

- Oh - he looked into my eyes - I'm not insinuating, I'm just stating facts. A lot has happened in Charming in your absence, quality I can't believe that you know nothing about it. 

- It's a sick joke - I was whispering, hitting the table with my hands.

- I would prefer you to calm down, because it could end badly for you.

- Fuck you - I'm getting closer - fuck you and this whole department of yours. I don't know shit about this and you can't do shit to me.

- I can keep you for 48 hours, you know that for no reason.

Two cops came into the room. 

Pov Chibs 

This is not how it was supposed to find out, not how it was supposed to end. I was chasing along with Tig and Quin. Hap stayed in the club to take care of everything, we had to make sure that Jackson and Gemma had a decent burial. Late in the night we reached Santo Padre, we immediately arrived at the police station. Bishop was sitting on the hood of the car, Taza was sitting in the open trunk and Hank was circling. We parked the motorcycles in front of the car, unfastened the helmets and looked at them. 

- Hello brother - Obispo nodded his head. 

- Hello - I got off my motorcycle.

- Where is it? - Tig spoke to me. 

- She was arrested for 48 hours for assaulting a police officer - Hank looked at us. 

- What ? - I wrinkled my eyebrows.

- We don't know anything more - he shrugged his shoulders - not wanting to tell us anything. 

- I fucking growled under my nose.  

- Do you have a lawyer ? - Taza came up to us. 

- Yes - I nodded my head - he will be here in the morning. 

- Let's go home, get some sleep and we'll come back first thing in the morning. 

- He stays here, even if I have to sit here all night. I promised Jackson that I would keep an eye on his sister and that I would keep my promise. 

Bishop looked at his people, they both nodded their heads. We stayed up all night in front of the police station, just after six o'clock a lawyer drove into the parking lot. She parked next to my motorcycle and got out of the car.

- Filip - she nodded her head. 

- Ally - I nodded slightly.

- What did they stop her for? - She took the briefcase out of the car.

- They came to my house where we were supposed to meet the weekend off - Taza was looking at her - the guy introduced himself as an assistant US prosecutor, probably Potter. 

- We have a big problem, he said something ?

- Only that he wants to tell her something, she went with him voluntarily - this time Hank spoke - she didn't argue, she just had the Sons call. We have no idea what happened at the police station, but suddenly we found out that she was arrested for an attack on an officer. 

- Good - she nodded - come on, Filip.

I nodded my head and followed her to the building. Immediately after entering, we headed to the nearest desk where the policeman was sitting. Only after a closer look one could see a big bruise forming on his face.

- I fucking growled under my nose.

Pov Olivia

I was staring at the wall in front of me, I couldn't believe I was left alone. That I no longer had family of blood, that they were no longer with me. First my brother, then my father and now my mother and brother. There were tears from my eyes all the time, Chibs had much to explain to me. But I wasn't really sure if he wanted to know the whole story or if he wanted to know the truth. The fucking club took everything from me, destroyed my family.

- Come on - The bars opened. 

I looked at Potter, followed by Sons' lawyer Ally Lowen.

- Your friends act quickly - the blond man smiled. 

- Don't answer any questions, don't say anything - said the woman - they have no right to detain you.

- And why such harsh words? - Potter turned to her - we were just talking.

- Tsa - I purr.

I got up and left the cell. Ally started her legal gibberish but I didn't care much about it. Potter stared at her and nodded his head smiling gently. 

- You are absolutely right, I can let go of the charge of assaulting an officer," he said, "she was in awe, she found out so much. I think that you can take her to your family. Oops, I didn't want to.

I looked at him, he did it on purpose. He knew very well what to say to make it hurt as much as possible, it came so easily to him. After I left the building I saw the boys, Chibs leaned against his motorcycle. Tig was smoking a cigarette and Quinn was talking to Bishop. They all moved in my direction.

- Lass - Chibs came up first.

I took a step back, not wanting to have contact with him. I stared at the patch he was wearing on his chest PRESIDENT. It is the same patch that my brother was wearing.

- Honey - he reached out his hand to me.

- No - I growled and looked into his eyes - now you have what you always dreamed of. 

- What the hell are you talking about? - he growled surprised. 

- You got the club to yourself, Ally, can you get me out of here? - I looked at a woman - she doesn't want to be in their company.

- Sure, she smiled sadly.

- Querida -Bishop said.

- Bish, not now, please. - I looked at him.  

I saw the pain and tears in his eyes, and my eyes were glazed too.

- Not yet - I've twisted my head. 

- We are here for you - he whispered.

I nodded my head and came back to Chibs with a look. 

- Go back to Charming, where you belong. I don't want to see you in the eye, not after what you did to my family. 

When I wanted to go past him, he grabbed my shoulder.

- Nobody did anything to your family. 

- Let go of me - I did not look him in the eye. 

- Let me explain - he got closer.

- Fuck you - I jerked off and stood face to face with him - everyone fuck you, you let my family die. You let this fucking club take my blood away from me. You didn't even have the fucking courage to come and tell me about it personally. You have your club now so get the fuck away from me, leave me alone. Forget I ever existed. 

- I won't forget about you, never - he twisted his head - So I love you, how do I do it? 

- Let's go, Alice, before they lock me up for murder. 

- Sure. - She put her hand on his shoulder. - Then Chibs, she needs to cool off. I got in the car and stared at one point. 

- Take me to the hotel, I said. 

- Sure.

Part 14

[vannahfanfics]

A Most Dangerous Game Part II

Before you read, here’s Part I!

Category: General Fluff, Mild Romantic Fluff

Fandom: Yona of the Dawn

Characters: Soo-Won, Yona, Son Hak

Requested By: farrah87 (Ao3) 

Soo-Won's footsteps were muffled by the plush carpet overlaying the stone castle floor. Night had descended over the country's capital; starlight streamed in through the marbled glass windows, painting wave-like patterns of white on the ruby-red fabric stretching through the hall. Most of the castle had retired to bed; only zealous academics and the castle guard roamed at this hour- and Soo-Won, the king with a ticking time bomb. 

He sighed pallidly and swept a swathe of his pale blond hair from his face, grimacing when he found the strands clumped with perspiration. I have to be careful not to overexert myself… It won't do for the Crimson Illness to get out, he thought with a small sigh. So easy it was to say that, but so hard to put into practice when Soo-Won had so much to attend to in the shortening period of his life. I have to ensure this country will prosper and thrive after… He didn't finish the sobering thought. 

A flash of movement caught his eye. He squinted in the gloom at the window a few yards ahead of him; it creaked as it turned inward, spilling the cool night air into the spacious hallway. Soo-Won's eyebrow cocked as a pair of long legs slipped through the open window, clad in loose tan garments. The king momentarily wondered if an assassination attempt would shatter his daily humdrum. The prospect disappeared as the person jumped down from the sill, flicking his jade-green hair from his face and flashing Soo-Won a confident smirk. 

"Well, good evening, Your Majesty." Jae-Ha's voice was like honey, smooth and sweet and unbothered. A pink-faced Kija poked his head through the window next to give the king a frightened look. 

"I thought you said we wouldn't be caught?" The white dragon hissed to his comrade as he gracelessly wormed his way down from the window. He landed clumsily on his rump, and crossed his arms to pout at Jae-Ha like it was the taller man's fault. Jae-Ha's smirk remained sharp enough to cleave diamond, while Zeno's head popped into the window next. By this point, Soo-Won was very amused, smiling with a mirthful twinkle in his eyes as he watched the boyish yellow-haired dragon scramble down from the window. 

"How lucky are we, to run into Mr. King, huh?" Zeno laughed joyously. Kija had stood up from the ground but was still muttering that they were unfortunate for the unplanned encounter. Shin-ah was silent as he climbed through the window, lithe and quiet like a panther. Ao chittered good-naturedly on his shoulder. 

"Is the medicine boy coming, or did he elect to stay home?" Soo-Won joked smugly. His gaze swept over the four dragons who'd snuck into the castle with very little fanfare. He didn't know whether to be impressed with the dragons or concerned with the capabilities of his guards. "I assume you've snuck in to see Yona?"

"That's right." Jae-Ha quipped curtly. Soo-Won had assumed that planning the impromptu lunch meeting would come back to nip him in the rear, but he hadn't quite expected the dragons to commit burglary after only a week. He sighed wearily and pinched the bridge of his nose. They're already here, and I don't exactly think they'll listen to me when I ask them to leave, he thought sourly. 

"Very well. I was on my way to my study to retrieve some documents; Yona's quarters are close by, so I'll escort you there. However, I'll only allow you to visit under my supervision," he said firmly. Allowing Yona to see her beloved dragons kept her complacent, but Soo-Won couldn't allow her to push the envelope. If the dragons were brazen enough to sneak into the castle in the dead of night, thoughts of rebellion and mischief wouldn't have much trouble blooming in their minds. Out of his peripheral vision, Soo-Won saw the dark black blob of his shadow guard, Hiyori, peering around the corner. The man wouldn't act now that Soo-Won had expressed his permission, but his presence still left a sour taste in his mouth. Joo-Doh and Kye-Sook will surely hear of this… Groaning, he rubbed his temples as a small headache began to pulse in the front of his skull. So much for not exerting myself. 

The dragons were quiet as Soo-Won escorted them through the dark castle hall; they exchanged no words during the five-minute stroll to his study. A pair of braziers smoldered beside the door. He instructed the four of them to wait outside while he retrieved his documents. The hour was late, at least ten or eleven, so he was sure that the princess had retired to her bedchamber. That's why he couldn't stifle the shocked gasp when he closed the door behind him and turned around to see Yona curled into a ball on the floor, sobbing pitifully. 

"Yona?!" He crossed the room in three quick strides, falling into a kneeling position beside her. The girl moaned forlornly as he gently placed his hands on her shoulders and peered into her tear-streaked face. "Yona…" As her form relaxed, he spied a small leather-bound book clutched in her arms. Yona offered no resistance as he tugged the book from her grip to peer at the cover. A cold flush flooded through his veins, ice water that left every muscle locked and every nerve screaming. His mother's name was written in neat black ink in the upper right corner. This is… Her memoir, he realized with cold horror. Another ice-cold flush seared through his veins at the realization that Yona had read the diary cover-to-cover. His windpipe constricted inside his throat, but for the sake of the weeping girl before him, he swallowed the anger and fear and despair in favor of smiling weakly. 

"Yona," he shushed as he swept her dawn-red hair from her eyes. "Please don't cry." 

"I-i wasn't sure what I was expecting," she choked out between wracking sobs. The heels of her palms dug into her eyes, smearing the tears that continued to fall. "But I… Oh, Soo-Won," she lamented. His eyes widened as she abruptly collapsed against him, embracing him in a tight hug. His hands hovered in the air around her head before slowly drifting down to wrap around her petite frame. Yona had treated him so coldly as of late, so to have the girl burying her face into his sternum and tearing into his clothes as if to anchor him to herself was admittedly disorienting. Still a little stunned, his movements were robotic as he rubbed soothing circles into the small of her back. "I just… I can't believe you're going to die." 

She whispered the last word, as if uttering it aloud would cause him to collapse then and there. 

“Yona,” Soo-Won sighed deeply. The idea of death spilled bitter acid over his tongue, but he ignored it in favor of comforting the distraught princess. He rested his cheek against the top of her head, stroking her short tresses of dawn-red hair. He could offer no words of comfort or refusal, however; the girl was right. Whether he liked it or not, Soo-Won’s flame was flickering it out, slowly but surely. Soo-Won could only reassure her with his presence. He was not dead yet. 

The comfort had its intended effect. Gradually, Yona’s sobs quieted into little sniffles. The princess slumped against him, exhausted by her misery. Soo-Won continued to soothingly stroke her back as she fluttered her teary lashes to peer mournfully up at him. 

“Soo-Won…” 

Fate had a sense of irony, because, in that moment, Soo-Won was gripped by a severe attack. Burning pain blossomed in his skull, and he slumped wholly against Yona. The girl exclaimed as she unexpectedly had to bear the brunt of his weight, and her slim arms wrapped around him to help her shoulder the burden. Soo-Won’s breaths came in heavy, ragged gasps, and his vision flared white as the pain seared through his brain tissue. He whined Yona’s name as darkness encroached on his field of sight. Like all the times before, he had the oddest sensation of becoming weightless; he drifted down, down, down into the dark abyss, and everything fell away…

~~~~~~~~~~

“Soo-Won? Soo-Won!” Yona’s voice cracked with fright as the king slumped against her and quickly slipped into unconsciousness. Her body trembled with the terrible weight of him against her and the fear gripping her body. “Help! Someone, help!” she screamed. Her cries bounced around the small study to pierce her eardrums in shrill, frantic cries. She was nearly hyperventilating when her dragons burst into the door, calling her name and demanding to know what was the matter. Yona’s mind was so disoriented by Soo-Won’s sudden collapse that she didn’t even question why her dragons were in the palace in the first place. 

“H-h-h-he just fell limp, just like that, I-i-i-i don’t know w-what’s wrong!” she stammered, words falling off her tongue faster than she could think them. “Oh, Soo-Won, Soo-Won!” The horrible truths contained in Lady Yon-hi’s diary were still fresh on her mind, so in her manic state, she believed that Soo-Won could have literally died right in her arms. Fresh tears streamed down her face in thick, salty streams, and her entire body quaked violently with tremors. Jae-Ha and Shin-ah pulled the man’s body off of Yona, and she screamed again as his head flopped lifelessly against the tall, green-haired man’s chest. 

“Princess, Princess!” Kija cried while shaking her shoulder violently. “His Majesty Soo-Won is still alive. Please, calm yourself. He’s only fallen unconscious.” Kija had to repeat the words several times for them to finally breach the barrier of the blood roaring in Yona’s ears. Her eyelashes fluttered as she forced herself down from the frantic high, and sure enough, she could see Soo-Won’s chest rising and falling with deep but labored breaths. “There, now,” her white dragon crooned reassuringly in her ears. “We’ll get His Majesty to his quarters-” 

“No!” Yona objected quickly. “Take him to my quarters. It’s much closer- but do it quietly and quickly! Soo-Won’s condition is a secret!” As Jae-ha and Shin-ah supported Soo-Won’s weight between them and slipped out of the study to hurry towards Yona’s bower, the princess followed, nearly tripping over her own feet in her haste. Out of her peripheral vision, she spied the shadow guard assigned to protect the king slip away into the darkness of the castle. Yona didn’t bother calling out to him. His message was the least of her concerns right now. 

Yona bustled past the two dragons to scurry to her bed, violently ripping back the comforter. “Here! Put him here,” she commanded, trying to seem authoritative and calm but failing miserably due to the shakiness of her voice. She swiftly covered Soo-Won as they laid him in the bed. When she put the back of her hand against his forehead, the heat rolling off his sweaty skin nearly scalded her. She barked at Zeno to bring her a basin of water and a dishrag. When the immortal dragon did as bid, she wasted no time in saturating the rag with the cool liquid and placing it on Soo-Won’s head. Yona’s wide, red eyes frantically coursed over Soo-Won’s sleeping form to search for something, anything that she could do. 

She could do nothing- only sit there and watch, and pray, and weep about her twisted desire to see Soo-Won live despite all he’d done. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Joo-Doh came to collect the collapsed king in due time. Her dragons had slipped away in the meantime to avoid retribution. If the shadow guard had told Joo-Doh of their presence, he never mentioned, and no judgment was passed down upon her friends. Yona stayed by the king’s side in the interim. Her feelings still confused her; the childish love she had harbored for the man had blossomed into something stranger and less defined. She knew she didn’t love him like she loved Hak, but… She did love him, in some confusing, mystifying sense. Despite it all, she couldn’t see him die. So she remained with him, holding his hand and cursing the fate that had warped him into the desperate and lonely man he’d become. 

Soo-Won recovered by the following morning… 

and awoke to pass some surprisingly divisive decrees. 

He ordered the 13th company to begin undertaking rigorous training, citing the need for “all troops in the impending war with Kai.” Even more surprisingly, he appointed Hak as the commander of the unit and the overseer for their training. Kye-Sook was livid and vehemently opposed the notion, but Soo-Won coldly shut down his obstruction by recounting Hak’s extensive military accomplishments. The coup de grace came with his final decree- due to Soo-Won’s frail condition, for the time being, the commanders of each unit must report to Yona for the time being. Additionally, Yona would oversee the training of the 13th company, and her dragons would also participate in the drills. 

In a bold move that turned his most dangerous game on its head, Soo-Won gave Yona a direct line of access to Hak and her dragons. Yona had no idea what had flipped the switch so suddenly in Soo-Won’s head. She was so accustomed to his carefully crafted plans, his refined and sophisticated scheming, that this outrageously brazen play rocked Yona to her core. She couldn’t comprehend his motives this time, not one bit… But she couldn’t find it within herself to complain. 

“Come in.” Her curt order bounced off the walls of her bower following the loud, authoritative knock. Yona was still pretty much confined to her quarters, so the company commanders ventured there to give their daily reports. Many times they acquired where Lord Soo-Won was, and she always politely replied that he was resting because his duties had become taxing as of late. Anticipating this visit as such, she procured a fresh of parchment and her inkwell and quill before patiently awaiting her guest to arrive. She couldn’t help the gleeful smile that alit her face when Hak swiftly entered. 

“Good evening, Princess.” His voice dripped from his smirking mouth like the sweetest honey, sending titillating tingles propagating all through her body. Hak crossed the room to kneel in front of her small work desk. Yona half-listened to his report, scrawling brief notes as necessary. Once he finished his statement, she pushed the papers aside with some dull quip thanking him for his services. Hak immediately slumped over the edge of the table, leaning his cheek in his hand and smirking flirtatiously at her. “I really despise all this official stuff,” he sighed melodramatically. “Such a bore.” 

“Yes, but you’re commanding the thirteenth company now,” she reminded him poignantly. Hak smiled at her comment; Yona knew it relieved him to hold some position of authority again, especially one that provided him steady access to the princess. However, a frown slowly overtook his pleased features. 

“I just don’t get it. What’s his game?” Yona looked down at the table as he posed the very pertinent question. Yona still couldn’t wrap her mind around it- this complicated chess game Soo-Won was manipulating before her eyes. She hadn’t even an idea of how the pieces were arranged- who was a pawn, a rook, a knight, a queen. Soo-Won’s sudden move may have been disorienting, but it didn’t change the fact that he was in almost complete control of the pieces, and slowly encroaching on Yona’s. 

“I don’t know,” she sighed wearily. She crawled around the edge of the table to cuddle into Hak, suddenly craving his presence. She usually did when the confusion closed in around her, and she desired nothing more than to escape for just a few brief moments. Hak enveloped her in his big, strong arms. He hugged her to his body and dropped a kiss to the top of her head. “I don’t know,” she repeated. “He has plans for us, but I just can’t fathom what lies in store for us… This is a most dangerous game we are playing, Hak, and I feel like I am losing my cards one by one.” 

“Heyyyy,” he crooned and hugged her tighter, as if to shield her from her misgivings. “No matter what happens, Yona, I will protect you,” he swore, his voice deep and harsh with conviction. Despite the impracticality of it, Yona felt her worries melt away. She dissolved into Hak’s gentle embrace, closing her eyes to savor the brief moment of sanctuary he offered her. 

It was a most dangerous game between Yona and Soo-Won… And so Yona cherished these brief moments of respite, where she didn’t have to worry about the cards in her hand. Hak took those hands and kissed along her fingertips and knuckles, showering her in love and affection. She didn’t understand Soo-Won’s game at all… but she was grateful for this newest move, because now at least she could be with the person she loved most.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

Tag List: @deliathedork​

[mistress-morgan4]

30[F4M] #NC High Holy Hedonist Mother Goddess Seeks Loyal Weekly Servant For Long Term Worship Arrangement

I’ve heard your prayers my dearest. Your heart cried out to me when you caught a glimpse of the full moon. You wished for a world you’ve only dreamed about; you wished to be taken in hand, firm and warm and lovingly, examined and judged and found - whether you are found wanting, pathetic mortal that you are, or found wanted and cherished by the Great Mother Goddess - you ache to be found.

I’m here, darling. I’ve found you and I’m holding my hand open to offer you a safe haven. You don’t always feel like you fit into the world-at-large; it’s all so disposable and cheap and fast. You crave something in which to lose yourself every day, yearn to find a world far more rich and sensual than any glowing blue screen. You want to be loved but after so many failed relationships you’re not really sure what that would look like. When you let yourself wonder what it would be like - to be loved the way you deeply need but have never let yourself express - those fantasies go to dark humid places, crevices and corners you’re quite sure no one wants to look. 

But hark! Beloved, I want to look deep into the hardest places and shine the light of my total acceptance upon you. I want to fill the back of your mind with the sounds and tastes and memories of your time spent in worship. I want you to always be aware and hungry for your next chance to humble yourself before me. 

There are many important rules to abide by in order to serve me (but let’s be honest, you’re into that kind of thing.)

All messages of praise and adoration are welcome but like most divine beings I reserve the right to ignore your adulation.

You must read to the end of this post and respond appropriately to be considered. 

You will be my servant and plaything to use, command and cherish. You will weep with joy at the honor of kneeling and worshipping my Holy Pussy, my Blessed Bush, the Great Mother writhing in orgasm as she gives birth to the world. I will guide you to reaching new heights of pleasure and I will lovingly, carefully, and thoroughly dismantle your heart, prying you open to see what makes you tick. While we are together, I will own you inside and out. Your submission will be emotional, mental, and physical; your orgasm, when I force you to look me in the eyes and command you to come, will be earth-shattering. 

though I will not be constantly available to you. When you have me, you will have all of me, and I will overwhelm you with the force of my presence brought to bear on your pathetic mortal soul. 

You must be comfortable engaging in extensive written and verbal negotiations and descriptions of how and why I will use and dominate you prior to meeting. We will cover your kinks, desires, shames, needs, fantasies and limits in great detail as well as my expectations and demands. This is to ensure we are a cohesive fit. I will not waste my time or yours unless we are able to thoroughly please each other, which requires excellent communication. I will not ghost you if I decide we are not compatible - I will clearly and directly explain my decision.

You will never forget that I am the Sacred, you are the Profane. Part of your submission to me requires your enthusiastic performance of chores including and not limited to house cleaning, photo assignments, errands, and other tasks. The experience I am offering is a time investment and my time and attention are extremely valuable.

Every moment you are mine will be intense and meaningful whether you are naked but for a lacy apron and rubber gloves scrubbing my toilet or meticulously sucking my toes while I sip a crisp pinot gris and tell you everything I love and hate about you or wearing a chastity cage while you take my packages to the post office. Every moment you are mine will be a moment basking in the almost-painful radiance of my scrutiny and judgement; those memories will carry you, glowing from the inside out, through the rest of your pathetic mundane life. Your time with me will be the only time you feel fully alive and you will crave it endlessly. 

The love of a Goddess is a fearsome and and towering presence and I expect you to cower before me in awe. I have no strong preferences for your appearance; chemistry is chemistry and all are beautiful and stained by mortality in my eyes. In addition to your mundane services I will require your participation in the following holy activities.

Worshipping, massaging and grooming the Heavenly Cunt, the Blessed Feet, and the Holy Flesh.

Pegging. I expect to examine and test the sanctity of your hole and watch you writhe and scream and moan and thank me as you come on my merciful and generous cock. If you are new to pegging we will work up to this. 

Orgasm denial. When and If you come it will be at my whim. While I have focused on the warmth of my blessings, as that is my ultimate nature, I can be capricious and cruel to serve the Higher Purpose. (Myself.) 

Cock denial. However cherished you are for the whole of your being you are undeniably profane and The neither the Sacred Pussy nor the Sacred Ass will not be violated by your mortal worm. 

That said, with time and effort you may be rewarded certain privileges such as cumming on my feet or breasts. You are my acolyte in pleasure, but you will learn that pleasure does not come just with cum. 

Total obedience. Your role and my expectations will be discussed in detail in advance and within your time of worship I will expect your total obedience to my wishes. You will have a safeword and will practice using it. 

Offerings and gifts. The gifts and offerings you make to me must come wholly from your heart to honor my Divinity and beg for my mercy when I push you to the edge. Regular cum tributes, especially when we are in the negotiations phase, will be expected. As a long term worshipper you will shower me with priceless tokens of affection and gratitude offerings in the form of handwritten notes, prayers, locks of hair, art through which I will guide and inspire you, et cetera. 

Many, many more kinks I’m thrilled to describe in even more painstaking detail. However: I am not interested in pure masochism. I am a Hedonist and view all physical and mental suffering as paths to the greatest and most Transcendent pleasure. You should be interested in pain as one of many flavors of control I will wield over you but not the primary method; While I will shower you in the light and love of my Brilliant Presence you should also expect that I will humiliate you for the sake of my entertainment. I want to watch your little cock squirm in embarrassment and glee as I finger your pathetic wet slut hole. I will laugh at your dribbling mortal orgasms, when I allow your dribbling mortal orgasms, and pity that you’ll never come as hard as I do. (But I’ll still try to help you come as hard as I do, it’s quite fantastic.)

- This will be a cerebral, spiritual, magical experience for both of us with the goal of genuinely improving our lives. We will not be entangled outside of this arrangement; we will share the freedom to pursue other entangements provided we adhere to strict safety and testing rules. Again, your worthless little cock will not be permitted the Divine Cunt. In all play we will be safe, sane, and consensual foremost.

Are you still reading? I’m so proud of you darling, you’re an excellent candidate already. This is the kind of steadfast devotion and loyalty I demand from you. My every word is a Divine gift and blessing, a honeyed treat placed on your tongue, and you are helpless to stop devouring me. You are so hungry. You are so thirsty. You are willing to try so, so hard, and give so, so much, and at last I have arrived to save you from your aimless, empty life. 

Is your cock hard and straining yet? I hope so darling. I do want to find you - I think we can offer each other so much. 

Please continue.

You must format your application as follows. Incorrectly formatted submissions will not be considered. 

Message Title: As you wish

Your name

Your preferred title(s) - choose all that apply: Slave, servant, worm, pig, little boy, bitch, slut, cunt, hole, darling, sweetness, honeybear, baby, etc

Or other: What shall I call you? 

Describe first time you will serve me. For the sake of your fantasy, I am a red-headed green-eyed BBW. You will receive pictures - lots of them - when I deem you worthy. 

What are your hard limits? 

Have you ever experienced anxiety or fear during a BDSM scene or during other sexual activities? 

What kind of aftercare do you need? (Snuggling, a shower, snacks?)

What is your safeword or do you prefer red/yellow/green?

Why should I choose you, little worm? What can you offer me? 

[yanderedanganronpafun]

Can you please do a Yandere Pre Game Shuichi x in game Kaede? Shuichi never got his audition, so Kaede remained the protagonist. He stopped liking DR, but he finds himself more interested in Kaede and only watched it for her. After finding out she and the other survivors escaped. He ran into her by chance as she hides from DR. He nabbed the girl and kept her tied up in his place. He thought if he could get her pregnant she won’t leave him.

Hiya!! Omg so this is like the first ask that I've ever answered on this blog omg. But I really wanna actually start writing something and I loved this prompt, going right into that beautiful dark messed up alley that I love!

But here are a few warnings before you decide to read: Super duper messed up and delusional Shuichi, kidnapping, light sadism, mentions of non-con and also possible forced impregnation.

If you're okay with this then please enjoy but if not then please don't read as I don't want to trigger or hurt anyone with my writings!

Shuichi had always loved Danganronpa. It was his escape from his sad excuse of an existence. His parents were never around in his life, always being too busy with getting drunk as all hell or just getting fucking high. He had to be independent from a very young age.

At school it wasn't exactly easier. He wasn't stupid and got good grades for what it was worth. Really he was one of the smartest students in his entire class.

Wouldn't this have meant that he had a lot of friends if he was such a good student?

Hahaaa, no.

He had absolutely no friends. Everybody were too creeped out by him. Nobody even bullied him because of the sounds of pleasure he made and how his face went red as well, just to add things up.

Plus his utter obsession with Danganronpa probably didn't help either. He basically breathed danganronpa at this point. It meant everything for him but even if anybody else liked danganronpa then they were never willing to talk to him about it because of his complete obsession over it and how his body started to tremble from joy and it almost seemed like he got turned on when he talked about deaths, executions and characters. It was just way too much for anybody to take.

So because of that he had nobody to talk too and he had accepted it. It hurt, yes, but he had accepted it that he was bound to be alone.

When Danganronpa had auditions for the new season then he had excitedly went there in hopes of becoming one of the new characters. God it was his life long dream. There were other people as well. He didn't pay them much attention but his eyes did move towards one girl with long, flowing blonde hair and violet eyes.

But after he saw her it was his turn to go and enter the auditioning room and no matter how hard he tried then eventually he was declined of a spot and was truly left devastated.

Shuichi felt so angry, so fucking angry and just done with everything. He had dedicated his entire life to this game and he didn't even get a spot that would have truly made his entire life? Well fuck that. Just fuck everything!

That was his slow declining of his obsession with danganronpa, nonetheless he still watched the new season and the only true good thing about the entire game was Kaede. Oh she was like a literal angel. Kaede Akamatsu, Ultimate Pianist, was her talent. She was so beautiful, so kind and sweet but yet so headstrong. Such beauty and grace in one person shouldn't be real but it was and he was the one witnessing it.

While his obsession with Danganronpa had disappeared then it was completely replaced with Kaede. He dreamed of Kaede, both during night and daydreamed about her in the day. He was in love with her. She was the perfect girl and she was supposed to be all his. Yes, she didn't know it yet but one day they would be together forever and ever. Nobody could ever tear them apart from one another. Such a beautiful thing to dream about.

However he grew deathly jealous of those who talked to her in game. Who did those fucking assholes think they were touching his angel?! She belonged to him and only him! Nobody else could ever appreciate her the way that he did. Imagining stabbing them to death always brought a smile to his lips. He would kill for her. He would hurt himself for her and truly give his life if that's what she wanted! His life meant nothing without her in it!

He had been thinking for so long how he could obtain that beautiful girl for himself. It felt impossible.

But then...

Fucking finally god decided to give him a break from all of his suffering and give him a present.

The male had already obviously learned of his beloved and other 'survivors' managing to escape from Danganronpa which had never happened before so Team danganronpa was after them. But what he hadn't expected was to be face to face with his beloved.

She had bumped into him and that sent her stumbling onto him as they fell to the ground. So cliche but he had no time think about that when his angel was here. This was a pretty secluded place where he was at and he always went here for walks. His poor darling looked like she really had gone through a lot.

"You're Kaede!" He said and smiled, hiding the true obsession he felt for her behind someone that just happened to know her which at this point everybody did because there was quite the money for anybody who brought at least one of the contestants to team danganronpa. But he didn't need money when he had her.

She had paled and the poor girl had bags under her eyes. "P-Please don't give me up! God please I don't want to go back!" She had begged him and he had to fight absolutely every fiber inside of him to not suffocate her with his hugs and kisses. He had instead smiled at her in a comforting manner and placed his arm on her shoulder.

"Hey it's okay. My name is Shuichi. I'll help you. I have a place where you can hide out." Of course she looked a little suspicious of a boy she had literally just met and who also offered her a place to stay. But she also looked so desperate and it looked like she had truly been on the run forever. So she was sleepless and her mind wasn't probably completely at the right place. "O-Okay. Just please help me."

A bright smile came to his lips when he grabbed her arm and pulled her along quickly with the hidden roads. Of course he was careful and they made it to his home safely. He had let her sit down and brought her a glass of water that had been drugged. His beautiful blonde had so gladly accepted it and drank it all in just two gulps.

In no time at all the drugs kicked in and she fell off the chair and onto the floor. He squealed in utter glee and picked her up in his arms, kissing her forehead. "Baby! We'll finally be together forever and ever! God I'm so happy!" He giggled and brought her to the basement, a soundproof basement.

Shuichi had already prepared everything for her. Even if he was never sure before if he could bring her here then it was always better to be safe then sorry and he had been completely right.

There was a fairly comfy mattress in the corner and also chains. He chained her up from her ankle, deciding to not chain up the rest of her body.

Well at least not yet.

When his beloved had woke up then she had been so happy that she cried and even screamed of joy! Even the few mean words that she had said had made him so happy.

The two of them had become one the same night he brought her to her home, where she belonged. He had waited way too fucking long and now that she was finally here in his arms he wasn't gonna waste any more time.

His beloved continued to cry those tears of joy with every thrust he had made into her. He melted from her warmth and he had left marks all over her body.

"P-Please stop! No! Stop it please!"

She had said those words but his lover was just confused from the pure joy of them finally becoming one. He had cuddled her weeping form close when he had finished and they fell asleep together.

Time passed and she had warmed up to him a lot more by now. Even if she did try to escape and almost managed to when he had removed the chain from her leg after she promised that she wouldn't run away from him. That she loved him. He had happily trusted her but she had broken it and tried to run away.

Well let's just say when he caught her he wasn't happy at all and the girl suffered a lot that night, so many cuts were left on her body and he had mindlessly used her body for his desires with blind rage. She was his and she would never ever leave him.

Shuichi was also doing this because he wanted them to become a family. He wanted her to be pregnant because with a child they would be even more happy together, forever.

It was another time of him having to force her to take a pregnancy test and everytime they had come back negative, leaving him devastated.

But this time...

Oh my god, it had actually happened.

Tears of joy ran down his cheeks as he showed her the positive pregnancy test. He giggled and hugged her close.

"We are gonna be a family baby! I love you so much honey!" His beloved cried from joy in his arms as she trembled heavily.

He was so glad that they were both so overjoyed!

Finally everything was completely perfect in his life and he couldn't be happier. Him and his beloved girlfriend would be together forever and raise a child. His dreams were finally true and Kaede's as well.

Why else would she keep crying so much from joy?

He kissed her forehead and cuddled, continuing to talk of their future.

Everything was finally perfect.