#cannot believe I have never had my ears pierced

[lostmyheadin1975]

[ynsbarbbb]

love me harder | m. verstappen

hypothesis - max is on the brink of losing you. however, after a fatal accident…

pairing - max verstappen x fem!driver!reader

[fic is inspired by “love me harder” by ariana grande ft. the weeknd

“baby, in the moment, you’ll know this is, something bigger than us and beyond bliss”

“could you just look at me?” you yelled as max just kept walking a few steps ahead of you.

“can’t. race is about to start.”

stepping into a quicker pace you place yourself in front of max and the garage door, “when was the last time you told me you loved me?”

your eyes searched his face, desperately trying to find a glimpse of the max that you knew, the max you fell in love with, the max you married. the hand you placed on his chest, you could feel the steady rhythmic thump of his heart.

“you really want to do this now?”

“yes! i never see you anymore!”

max scoffed, eyes rolling as he looked back down at his phone, “sorry that i’m busy.”

your hand fell back to your side, “i’m busy too max, yet i still try.”

he nodded his head, eyes not lifting from the rectangular square. you sighed, your hands landing on your hips. is this what you’ve become now?

“is our marriage still worth fighting for, max?”

he looked up. eyes piercing through yours. you cannot believe the words just left your mouth, but it felt relieving to finally utter the words that has been haunting you for weeks.

“i’m not doing this with you right now, y/n,” max steps around you, “good luck with your race.”

~~

it was a millisecond.

you missed the turn by a millisecond and hamilton came crashing into you, sending your right wing and two tires flying. the car skidding across the track and landed upside down.

the force of the impact shoved your head against the steering wheel, hard, bouncing back against the seat.

damage had been done. to you and your car.

to lewis’ as well.

unbeknownst to max, who was in the lead, adrenaline coursing though his veins at the thought of his fourth podium for the season.

he was thriving, the car succumbing to his every command. the engine roaring sending shivers throughout his whole body.

the grin on his face turned devilish. he’s so close.

“max,” christians voice in his ears broke his train of thought, but his eyes never once lost sight of the track in front of him.

“the car’s doing great, no need to worry. podium is secure,” max declared excitingly. he took the turn, groaning at the strain it took on his body.

“though, sainz is on my tail the whole fucking time.”

christian sighed, not at all what max had expected, but he couldn’t be bothered by his team principal’s pms at the moment.

“max, there was a crash.”

another turn, another groan.

sainz could be spotted in max’ peripheral vision. he pushed the car harder, engine roaring, sending max flying away from carlos.

“who crashed?” he asked as he fiddled with the buttons on the wheel, checking if everything is still steady. he has at least seven more laps to go.

“y/n.”

dead silent.

heavy thick as your name registered in his mind. the grin that has been on his face had been wiped down. his lips sticking to his teeth.

“max?” christian asked, waiting a few moments. there was no response from the dutch.

he felt as if his body went numb, limb for limb. his arms felt wonky - not like the grip he had on the wheel mere moments ago. his breathing became shallow, his lungs struggling to capture enough oxygen, his brain malfunctioning.

next thing he knew he was crashing into sandbags.

the impact knocking sense back into him. sand dust flying everywhere.

“max!” christian exclaimed, “are you injured?”

“how’s she? is she alive?” max frantically asked. you didn’t have a choice - you had to be alright. you couldn’t be hurt, max would loose his head if you where. who crashed into you? how hard was the impact?

max got out of the car, “christian, fucking answer me!”

the line was silent for a couple of moments, “she’s stable. unconscious, but stable. no further news yet. she has been rushed to the ER.”

cars blasted past him, deafening noise drumming his ears.

“i need to get to her.”

“max, the race -“

“fuck the race, that’s my fucking wife!”

~

the doors of the ER bursted open, a very sweaty, and breathless max stood there, his eyes frantically looking around for anyone who could assist him.

he still had his suit on, christian hot on his trail.

“y/n, i need to know where y/n verstappen is,” he asked, accent thick as he slapped his hands on the receptionist desk.

she looked up at him, “any relation?”

max scoffed, “my wife.”

her fingers made quick work on the keyboard, “your wife is in surgery.”

max’ shoulders slumped and christian took hold of it, shooting a quick thanks to the nurse and led him in another direction. he swiped his hands though his hair, pulling at it, feeling his frustration grow and bubble at the bottom of his throat.

he could scream.

max paced the hallway, up and down. maybe minutes - maybe hours. he didn’t know. all he did know was that he’s staying.

why didn’t he tell you he loved you. with every fibre of his being he loved you. he craved you, constantly. the thought of you was all that he needed to survive - but knowing that you were his wife, made him whole.

you were the person who stood by him whilst he was working through his troubles with his father. on the nights when fear surrounded him, the comforting hand of you, his wife, brought him peace. on the days when he was on his happiest, it was on the days he spent with you.

you made him. you showed him to be max verstappen.

his wife.

~~

news spread around the paddock, like a wild fire. sky sport tv airing out to fans and viewers to keep you in their prayers and thoughts.

some of your and max’ closest friends took off straight away to the hospital, supporting max even though he didn’t even acknowledge them.

they were still there.

an apology from lewis was sent out world wide, and he even made an appearance to max, but the dutch only glared at him, taking hold of his collar, making his friends jump and take hold of max.

“if she doesn’t make it out of here, you’ll regret ever setting foot on a paddock again. i’ll kill you.”

his voice was icy as he spat the words at lewis, baring his teeth. daniel stepped in between the two and pushed max back by his chest.

max’ eyes never left lewis’ retreating from.

~~

“verstappen, y/n.”

max was in front of the doctor in a second, his eyes pleading his for good news. the doctor smiled at him and gave him what he was searching for.

“she’s asleep, but she’s an extreme fighter. you’ve got no worries, mr verstappen.”

he swore he could cry.

the doctor told him the room you were in and max wasted no time rushing towards it.

he searched the numbers above the doors for room one-o-one. his number. a bit of pride bursting in his chest, fate really had put you two together.

max stepped into the room and his heart broke.

machines connected to your heart, the beeping sound being the only indication that you are in fact alive. various cuts and bruises formed along your face. a neck brace adorned. oxygen mask on your beautiful face.

max stifled a sob as he crashed into a seat near your bed, scooting closer and taking hold of your hand. his thumb drawing patterns on your knuckles.

even in your unconscious mind your body still knew that it was your max, the heart monitor speeding up slightly.

it caused him to chuckle, “mijn schatje, mijn alles, i am so sorry. this should’ve never happened to you.”

he squeezed your palm, pressing a tender kiss to the flesh, “fight, stay strong for me, yeah? so that i can love you right this time.”

~~

a gentle knock at the door roused max from his sleep. his hand was still tucked in yours.

max turned towards the door, lando stood there.

a soft smile on his face with a gym bag in his hand, “mate, i brought you some clothes - the suit can not be comfortable.”

he chuckled and motioned for his muppet friend to come in. lando placed the bag by the door and walked closer to stand next to max. he placed a firm hand on his shoulder.

“how’s the missus?”

max looked at you, a lump the size of a bull frog lodged itself in his throat, “she’s good, doc said she’s a real fighter.”

“she is a verstappen, ey?” lando nudged max’ shoulder who just chuckled in response. he felt guilty, ashamed, contrast to who he was. he shouldn’t have had to treat his wife like shit. you just wanted to know he loves you.

“look, mate, don’t beat yourself up about what happend, see this as a new beginning.”

max nodded, “she just wanted me to say that i love her. shit, i should’ve just said it to her. the crash-“

“is not your fault, you couldn’t have possibly predicted an accident to happen.”

he shook his head and looked at the bag by the door, “i’m going to change, would you mind maybe staying here. i don’t want to leave her alone.”

“yeah, of course mate.”

~~

two weeks later

“don’t strain yourself so much, schat,” max’ voice was gentle as he looked at your from his seat on the couch. within mere moments he stood in front of you, large palms pressed to your hips to help you walk the last few remaining steps.

this last couple of weeks changed. your marriage changed. max changed.

he was waiting on you hand and foot, even though you have told him multiple times that certain things you can do on your own, he still insisted.

the one noticeable change for yourself and everyone surrounding you was the fact that max openly, whenever he got the chance told you he loved you.

whether it be when you’re making dinner, doing dishes, walking beside him on the paddock - he’d say he loves you with a kiss pressed to your temple. it was and still is absolute bliss.

your recovery went by fast, splendid as your doctor had put it. with time and patience, he said, you’d be back on the track in no time.

when your socked feet took the last step, max couldn’t help the face splitting grin that adorned his face.

“look at you go, speedy,” he smiled as he took hold of your head and pressed a tender kiss to your forehead. speedy. the nickname max had dubbed you the moment you overtook him when you first met.

speedy. the nickname max had dubbed you the moment you stole his heart.

speedy. the nickname max had used in his vows the moment you took his last name.

max made sure that you didn’t strain yourself too much in the recovery process, he treated you like you were his fine china, bubble wrapping your heart and by God, swearing that he’d never let his actions and words ever hurt you again.

he poured so much love into you. you practically glowed in comparison to when the argument had occurred.

his love.

his wife.

max made sure you knew how much he adored you, loved you, craved you.

“ik hou van je, mijn schat.”

and you knew he did.

fin.

[forever--darling]

young padawan

summary: in the midst of chaos, you have only two to hold onto, obi-wan & his young padawan. as bakura continues to burn, you can't deny the comfort & safety that is brought by the two jedis, all while you recount your life on the fallen planet

pairings: anakin skywalker x princess!reader

word count: 6.5k

warnings/notes: mention of war, of death, mention of clone wars, swearing, mention of blood, the long escape that is from bakura, as well protector!anakin

series masterlist | 01

“Your highness, we must go.” 

The alarm was like something you had never heard before, almost like a high-pitched scream. It was blaring, outweighing the sounds of gunfire and screams from across the floor. Eyes piercing the back of the Jedi before you, leading you through the capital, his light saber clutched tightly in his opposing arm, the other held tightly onto your hand. 

“No, no, we can’t leave him. We have to go back, we have to try—try to convince him—or something.” 

The pale robes were rustled along his frame, held together by the single brass armor wrapped around his abdomen. His long hair brushing along his neck, head on a swivel as he quickly lead you throughout the abandoned halls of the building. 

“Princess…” 

“We must—” 

“Your—” 

“Obi-Wan, please.” 

Screams and yells echoed across the corridors, corridors that were no longer untouched, you noticed. Rather just as red, just as bright as the alarm, bathed in the blood of the staff of the capital of fellow Bakurans. A void had seemed to fall upon you, numbness that led to silence and disengagement, as you walked quickly but carefully, almost glued to the older Jedi's back. Eyes sweeping along the nightmare that had become of your city. 

“Y/N!” he yelled, both of his hands taking a firm hold upon your shoulders, “We cannot go back. There is not enough time. Not if we want to succeed in your survival. We must go now.”

This is the end. 

Of not you then your sanity, no doubt. The hood felt heavy along your head, concealing the peripheral of your vision, of the horrors that were sure to surround you. As Obi-Wan halted at the edge of the hall, his arm barred out blocking you from advancing. With his saber raised, he peeked around the corner, the hidden corridor that not many people realized was even useable within the capital.

You merely held your breath, waiting, worrying how this would all end. 

His eyes flickered around the room though you were hidden from it. Voices echoed, paired with footsteps in the opposite direction. As they faded, he peered back as if to check on you. Your face was expressionless, a fine line into nothing. 

The static appeared again, quiter than it had earlier, from Obi-Wan’s belt. The voice was the same as it had been before. “Master! Master, come in!” 

Obi-Wan pulled the com near his face and held the button near the side of it, “I’m here, my Padawan.” 

“What’s your status, Master?” 

“You shouldn’t worry, young apprentice we are near. Shouldn’t be more than another minute or so.” 

“The gates are overcome with rebels, sir. I don’t know how much longer I can keep up.” 

A worry line etched across the Jedis face at the sound of his young Padawan’s voice. You watched it carefully, almost quizzically. The only thing you could swear to remember from that day other than the red lights and the red walls. 

“Should I head for the ship? Get it as close as I can?” 

“No. I may need you nearby to help with the safe extraction of the princess.” 

He protested, “But Master—” 

“I believe in you, Anakin. Forge for the east side of the capital. You will find a row of doors there. That is where we will meet you.” 

Placing the com back onto his belt, he turned down the static enough that it were mumble. He peeked once again arond the corner and as he did he spoke back at me, “The room is clear but we have to move quick, another raid could be advancing soon. Just another hallway and then we’ll be near the east entrance.” 

His words felt as if they had gone in one ear and out the other. You could only stare forward, eye vacant of reality other than the last remaining gaze upon your father’s broken frame. He could have been dead at that very moment. Slain, sure to go down with the rest of the capital if the clones were to set fire to it as they had with most of the city. 

Obi-Wan had sensed your hesitation as well as yoru voidness. “Your highness?” 

“Yes?” your voice was meek, a whisper, startled as if he had pulled you from the depths of your mind. 

“I need to ensure that you’re listening to everything I am saying.” 

You nodded, it was all you could get out then as you could hear the echo of footsteps following down the same hallway you two were standing at the end of. Glancing over your shoulder, you waned against Obi-Wan’s back. 

“Okay, now follow close.” 

He extended his saber out from behind the wall, the blue hue emitting along the broken and slicked walls. Ensuring the hood was far across your head, you stepped out just behind Obi-Wan, head moving from side to side following any noises or unsteady silence that poked and prodded at your ears. The woosh of the saber was a mere mumble along the empty corridor of the capital. You were near the front of the building, that you could notice from the once marble pillars that now lay strewn, pulled down. Any and all artifacts and paintings were in ruins, and blood from innocent Bakurans smeared along the front steps.

 The footsteps seemed to get louder, louder as you advanced across the corridor. You felt as if all the hairs on the back of your neck were wire, sticking up, while the energy seemed to shift around the room, it was almost as if you could feel it. “Obi—” 

“Shh.” 

It was then the trot had advanced rather quickly just as you were entering the last hallway. You were so close, so close to being rid of that place. So close and yet—

“We got eyes!” a voice yelled out from the other end of the room, “It’s the princess.” 

As the voice yelled across the room, you felt Obi-Wan grab your arm and swing you around so you were now in front of him near the hallway. As the footsteps sounded like a sudden stampede behind you, gunshots followed, only to be deflected by the blue saber in Obi-Wan’s hands. 

You looked back at him expectnantly not sure what to do as you peered past him to see the rebels followed closely by clones. 

“Run!” Obi-Wan yelled, then, “Run, god damn it. I’ll be right behind you.” 

You did as he asked. You did as your father had planned for you. You turned, and you took off down the hallway, the long pale hallway void of anything and everything. Just a few more turns, and you would be at the east side entrance. The sounds followed of the saber, of Obi-Wan’s struggling breaths, of the com, his voice yelling into it. You didn’t stop, though, not even as the cloak threatened to trip you or the hood had fallen off your head onto your back. 

Not even as the voices followed.

“Not if we want to succeed in your survival. We must go now.”

His words echoed, staining your innocence as you both had left the king to die. 

“You, my dearest daughter, are more like your mother than you ever believe. One day you will make a magnificent queen.” 

“Anakin, be ready at the door,” Obi-Wan’s voice could be heard just down the hallway. 

It was the last thing you heard as you sprinted, through the hallway and out of the large metal door, the red lights still shielding your eyes from the white overheads they once were. Pushing the door open with all of your might, you stepped out, immediately being met with clouds of dark smoke. 

Your feet came to a stop on the outside of steps of the east entrance, the smoke billowing in your face enough to make you cough. Waving away the small gust in front of your face, you glared through the haze immediately feeling the horror amplify before your eyes. Red and orange flames accentuated the once blue and green planet. The city was doused, blinded by so much smoke you could only see the heat through it all. Piles of rubble doused the land as screams of men, women, and children were louder than they had been inside. The color drained from your face then as the only thing you could see through the haze was flashes of light from the guns, the blasters, and collapsed forms. 

A kick of a rock nearby startled you and suddenly you realized just how exposed and vulnerable you were outside — no longer behind a Jedis back. The figure who supposedly kicked the rock from a few feet away, froze in the street, frame turning slightly at the sight of your form through the smoke. He wore a mask concealing his face. 

The anger was gone, the frustration. Suddenly, all that remained was fear. As the stranger tilted his head curiously and took a step closer, you took one further down the steps. You took another, watching carefully how he advanced. As he took another, you broke out in a run down the remainder of the steps. 

You didn’t get very far as at the base of the entrance, a figure popped out from the side wall, their arms wrapping around your torso quickly. Pulling you into them, you felt yourself squirm, panic suddenly washing across your frame as the hold tightened. Just as you felt like yelling out for Obi-Wan, a hand clasped over your mouth as the tall figure pulled you flush against their chest. 

As they did, there seemed to be a sort of hesitation behind their touch. A lack of anger or immorality that you would have expected if it were a rebel. Instead, a certain feeling washed over you, one of unfamiliarity, almost as if the force itself was asking you to relax back into it. Like the energy around you was more than it had been moments ago upon that front step. Fear diminished then.

They leaned closer, their lips ghosting over the shell of your ear as you fought against the iron-like grip. They wouldn’t let go, wouldn’t wane in the slightest. Their palm was warm across your lips and smelled like sweat. Your breathing was short, uneven, moving far too quickly in fear. He could feel it radiating off of you. His grip loosened slightly but didn’t fall from your frame. Carefully, you glanced back, and relief somehow flooded your system at the sight of a Padawan braid in your peripheral vision. 

The Padawan. 

Obi-Wan’s Padawan. 

Sighing against his frame, his nose tickled your temple as he peeked from around the large wall that was hiding the two of you. As he did this, it allowed you to take him in much more closely. He was young, no younger than you but young. You couldn’t help but trace him with your eyes, there was no other comfort you had at that moment. You followed the slope of his nose, of the defining line of his jaw, and the curve to his lips. His eyes were blue. The rare kind of blue that wasn’t too light but almost reflected oceans. A deep blue, that you somehow could see even through the billowing air. His hair was cut short, a dirty blonde along the top with a small ponytail in the back and, sure enough, behind his right ear, a Padawan braid. 

His eyes flickered down to you, having caught you in your act of staring. A small quirk to his lips, you noted as those blue eyes of his flickered across your features quickly, taking in you as well. Or at least that’s what you had thought, not willing to think it into existence. You didn’t have much time to question the validity as the door burst open again, echoing with a slam. 

Heavy breathing could be heard, but nothing else as the figure stood still upon the entrance. The Padawan lifted his finger to his lips, advising you to remain quiet, as his hand remained clasped across your mouth. You inhaled, closing your eyes tightly, hoping it all would be over soon, one way or another. 

There was another huff, a second passed, and then, “Padawan!” 

It was a hushed yell, and yet it was enough to douse your whole body in mere relief. Relief that Obi-Wan was alive. The young Jedi’s hand dropped from around your mouth, but his arm remained around your waist as he stepped out from your hiding spot, dragging you along with him once he had, in fact, confirmed in Master’s presence. 

Obi-Wan hurried over, “Good, you have her.” 

“Are you alright, Master?” 

It was the first you had heard him speak other than through the intercom laced to his Master’s belt and you felt taken aback by both the tone of it as well as the composure he displayed. 

The older Jedi exhaled a small smile appearing and then disappearing as another raid echoed a street or two over, “Yes, just trying to catch my breath.” 

His eyes fell to you then, still wrapped up in his young apprentice’s hold, and he couldn’t help but examine you quickly, “You okay?” 

Once again the only answer came out as a mere nod. 

“Alright, we have to keep moving. How much further is the ship?” 

The Padawan motioned over his shoulder, “Should be just on the northside of the city, near the ports.” 

“Which is about two blocks alright,” Obi-Wan noted out loud, observing the area around him, noting what movements he could see past the flames. “I’ll watch from the back, alright, while you lead my young apprentice. We want her in between us at all times. Got it?” 

“Yes Master.”

With that, the young Jedi released you, his hand reaching for his own saber that sat along his belt. He held it tightly within his grasp but didn’t dare ignite it. Not yet, not unless needed. There was no need to draw extra attention through the smog. Obi-Wan gripped his as well, glancing behind the three of you cautiously as his padawan began to advance from behind the wall. Just as he was about to enter out from the east entrance and into the open city, he stopped for a mere second. A moment of hesitation. 

He looked back over at you, surveying the tired expression that now bathed your skin in fear. Reaching forward, he took a hold of the hood of your cloak and pulled it up and over your head. Then without a single word spoken, he took your cold hand in his and placed it along the back of his armor, where you could onto it. Your fingers curled around it loosely. He nodded at you in confirmation before turning back to the street. He edged out slowly and then began to pick up his pace, keeping the three of you close to buildings, able to watch behind you in case someone appeared out from the clouds of smoke. 

You tried to block it all out, the way the horrendous smell of burning flesh lingered in your nose or how hot the ground at begun. You tried not to peer into the bushes of flowers that now lay abandoned in fits of ash. You tried to conceal it all away from you, once again peering at the back of the young Jedi’s back, hoping it would be enough to save what was left of your humanity. 

To save you from the dead faces of those you once ruled over willingly. 

To save you from the guilt of fleeing. 

“Anakin, to your left!” Obi-Wan suddenly yelled out, gaining the attention of his young Padawan. 

Out from the shadows came two clones paired with a rebel. A beacon blue appeared as you blinked and suddenly he was deflecting the string of beams that had appeared in your direction. Grunting with each collision, he slid forward swinging his saber around his back and within his palm against the lines of defense. You watched as with two quick strikes, the clones were left a few mere pieces short circuiting on the ground. 

The rebel stepped out from the shadows, a scary smile lifting across his face doused in war paint as he noticed your shaking frame back behind the young padawan, glued to Obi-Wan’s side. 

“Found you,” he laughed, his yellow-colored eyes peering past the haze at you. 

“Don’t look at her,” the Padawan hissed, drawing the rebel’s evil gaze again. “Look at me.” 

“Ah a young Jedi, protecting the queen-to-be, how sweet,” he laughed again and the shivers emitted across your back as you felt Obi-Wan take a hold of your arm, “Well your highness, I must say this will be an honor taking down your only means of escape. You’ll be at my disposable soon enough.”

Grabbing at his belt, a beam of red appeared, the saber emitting the evil-like color that became the new paint along the capital’s walls. The Padawan’s cold, hard stare refused to leave the rebel’s face. As the rebel tried to peer at you again, Obi-Wan’s Padawan lunged forward, his saber outstretched. The rebel met his reign of anger in a swift defense with his own saber. The sound of the two colliding echoed across the empty street. 

Once and then again and again. 

You watched as long as you could until Obi-Wan was advancing past the two, dragging you in tow across the block and near the ship. You kept trying to glance behind you to ensure the blue light still emitted, and sure enough, it was colliding with the red still, swinging back and forth. 

Obi-Wan kept pulling you along with him, that is, until another group of rebels stopped his trail, fewer clones accompanied at their sides. They saw his deflated form followed by your pretty eyes and smirked at one another. The one in the front let out a loud whistle, and before you realized Obi-Wan’s saber was outstretched, appearing just as blue as his young Padawan’s.

Nerves pricking away at your insides, you turned back to peer through the smoke to find the blue light from the saber no longer there, the red too now gone from your line of sight. You felt your throat tighten up. Almost painful enough to throw up at the thought of someone else dying just for your survival. The sounds of Obi-Wan’s saber moving through the air were all you could focus on as you squinted into the line of sight of where his Padawan once was. 

Your hands tightened as a figure began to appear. Moving, running through the smoke, far too quickly for you to identify the person. Your chest tightened, fear coating your trembling figure as it dashed through the smog, almost leaping. Landing a few feet away onto the middle of the road, a small relief appeared at the sight of the padawan. A smirk appeared across his lips, a furrowed look evident in his brow as he watched his Master take on the group of rebels. His saber ignited again, the hue of blue reflecting in his eyes as he moved to advance forward. 

As he made the first swing, sending a rebel to the ground, Obi-Wan felt his presence. Though it was needed, weeding out much of the enemy, he could also sense your vulnerability behind them. 

“You must get to the ship!” Obi-Wan yelled towards the Padawan. 

“I can’t just leave you here to fight them all by yourself, Master.” 

“I’ll be fine, I’ll be right behind you, but we can’t fight our way throught this. We have to get to the ship.” 

“And we will, together.” 

“Anakin!” Obi-Wan scolded, his back pressed against his young apprentice, as he surged his saber forward into a rebel’s abdomen. “Take the princess. Go, now.” 

The young Jedi groaned in dismay but obeyed as he turned and looked back at you expectantly, “Come on!” 

He took a harsh hold of your hand and yanked, breaking out into a sprint. Your feet began to pick up, now willing to lose him in the fire. His grip was tight, almost achingly tight, as he used his saber as a guide through the darkness, using it once in a while for any clones or rebels that passed in front of the two of you. Coughing loudly, the smoke was invading your lungs and your body as your feet slapped against the host concrete of the capital of Bakura. Your breathing was heavy, matching the young padawans as he weaved you through the city, the woosh of his saber the only thing you could focus on. 

The screams of pain of those that ran into the path of the chosen one’s weapon weekend with each slice, and you hated how it all made you feel. So weak. So unlucky. 

As you felt your hand becoming numb from his harsh grip, the sounds of the city eased, almost into a faded silence, and in its place, the gentle lap of water. The smoke seemed to clear every so slightly, and you found the docks, almost walking straight off of them with how fast the Padawan was leading the two of you. Breathing heavily, he looked around, remembering where exactly he had placed the ship. His hand dropped yours then. 

“This way,” he said, darting to the right behind a long string of tall rocks that lined the body of water. 

You went to follow, but before you knew it, there was a flash of light, and your feet were taken out from beneath you. You didn’t even have time to scream, not as your body fell back into the lagoon. Sinking in within the confines of your cloak, a tall figure pushes you down. The man’s hard grip was locked around your waist, holding so tightly that you withered in pain. The dark water seemed to be encapsulating pulling you further and further down into its depths. 

You withered, trying to loosen the grip the rebel had around you, even more so as his hands moved up to take hold of your neck. Kicking, you felt the tightness around your throat come quickly. It was almost comforting because it meant it was almost over. All of it. 

The man’s face was shielded in melting paint, the night sky aiding in his identity. Trying to hold your breath so carefully, you tried to escape as you could, but it appeared unsuccessful as the man only squeezed tighter. You felt as if there was no point then. No hope.

“Father, what was it like being a Jedi?” the soft, child-like voice appeared like a lost memory. 

Your father’s followed closely, younger too, “It was like an adventure all the time, my sweet daughter. But it’s more than that, but an honor. There is much respect and to uphold as a Jedi.” 

“Like the force?” 

“Yes, the force,” he confirmed, chuckling, “Something I feel you will grow more closely to the older you get. You are my daughter after all.” 

The edges of your vision began to blur, the last bubbles of air seemed to escape from your nose, the lingering voice of the king of Bakura following you. At the sound of another splash just a few feet away within the lagoon, your eyes peeled back open, struggling even further. Your head ached, feeling as if it were going to explode as your hand raised near the rebel. With it outstretched, you thought of your father, of Bakura, your mother, all of those lost and abandoned by its army, by you. The energies seemed to align, something falling into place, as you internally screamed. The man’s hands released your throat, and he was thrown away from you further into the lagoon. 

Unable to look further, you swam to the surface, bursting out of the water with a final needful breath. Gasping, you peered up into the sky through the smoke to the stars. You could barely keep yourself up, body weakening. Breathing waning, you just continued to look up, feet kicking softly, aware you could get pulled back under. 

There was a burst through the surface, and you flinched only to find the Padawan. Clothes wet along his frame, he swam closer, a quirk of worry across his face, “I got him. I got him.” 

The closer he got, the more the water lapped into your face, and you struggled to stay afloat with the large cloak weighing you down. You groaned out as your legs felt heavy within the clothes. Reaching you, his arms scooped around your frame, either one where the rebels used to be. 

“Keep your head back,” he instructed, as his arms began to pull at the cloak around your frame. “I have you.”

It loosened after two tugs slipped from your body with ease. His hands found your waist again as he began to swim you guys back towards the edge of the lagoon. Your breath had shallowed out, the edges of your eyes still blurry, a certain feeling of darkness creeping within your chest. 

It was as his hand tightened along your side that you let out a groan of pain. Hot and stabbing sensations shot towards your abdomen. Surprised by the sound, the padawan looked down at you, a worried look appearing for a mere moment as he stepped up onto the shore and pulled you up behind him. 

The pain worsened then, the oxygen hitting your body harshly. Your breathing quickened again, this time horrendously, as you peered up to the sky. Glancing down, your hand reached for where his once was. It stung at the contact of your palm, and as you pulled it back, you found it stained with red. 

“Shit. Shit,” he swore, his own hands replacing yours over the wound, “Fuck."

Your eyes fluttered, the tiredness of it all too much, the ache of the pain, the loss consuming you. Obi-Wan’s Padawan leaned over you, his wet frame leaving droplets across your face as he tried to keep your eyes open. “Hey, look at me. Just look at me. Gotta keep those pretty little eyes open for me, your highness.” 

You couldn’t even react to his words, couldn’t even react at him calling your eyes pretty. Nothing but the way the pain began to swallow you. His blue eyes. His sweet blue gaze locked with yours, his pursed lips moving but no sound reaching you. The only thing you could hear at all was the waning of your breath and the shallow beating of your heart. 

The edges were becoming dark, the stars blurring into streaks of the sweetest colors, almost colliding with the sweet pigments of the Padawan’s skin and eyes.

The young Jedi stared down at the pale form of the Bakura’s princess, the curse words of an endless spiel falling from his parted lips. His hands were stained, stained with the darkest red, as your chest began to slow in the way it rose and fell. Eyes fluttered shut, a peace seemed to overtake your form, and he felt the way his chest tightened unwillingly. 

After everything, you couldn’t die. You couldn’t. Not when him and Obi-Wan had gotten this far to save you, to make sure you lived. He wouldn’t allow it. 

“Anakin!” 

The yelling voice of his Master drew his unsteady gaze away from your still frame. An emergence of blue light appeared through the cloud of smoke. Other footsteps followed close behind. As Obi-Wan’s eyes found the frame of the young princess, he stopped momentarily, just for a mere second, to think about the possibilities of what could have happened. 

Anakin stared up at him in disbelief, lost of what to do next. 

“Pick her up!” his Master suddenly yelled. “Grab her now!” 

With his own saber snapped back along his waist, Anakin quickly fell to his knees, his hands dropping from where they held the wound. Instead, they wrapped around your frame, one underneath your knees. He lifted with ease until you were settled closely into his frame. Obi-Wan continued to run, leading the young padawan through the remaining trail to the ship as the rebels wanted close behind. 

“Master, I don’t know how this happened.” 

“Now’s not the time for that, Anakin,” Obi-Wan replied back coldly just as they stumbled along the large grey-wielding spaceship. One the Republic had loaned for this mission alone. As he reached the front panel window, he input the code, and the door of the ship began to fall slowly. 

The two Jedis peered over their shoulders with each passing second, losing their patience. As it finally opened enough to enter, the older Jedi pushed the younger one onboard with the princess weighing down in his arms. Following close behind, the doors shut behind them, wielding them to rush towards the front pit. 

Anakin paused, waiting for further instruction as the princess’s blood began to pool along his armor and robes. Obi-Wan motioned towards the medical bay just down the hall, full of medical assisted robots. “Take her to the med-bay. The 2-1B droids will know what’s best for her.” 

Nodding, the young padawan moved quickly down the corridors of the ship, the sounds of his boots echoing off the metal floor. His blue hues glanced down every once in a while at the face of the woman in his arms. Just as he passed you off onto the medical table and the droids swarmed your still-full frame, he felt the ship rise, jutting upward enough to almost push him to the ground. A sigh of relief fell past the young Jedi’s lips, the contentment to know they would be out of Bakura, finally able to breathe.

He sunk back near the wall of the med bay, unable to look away as the droids pulled at your tunic, trying desperately to get access to the wound. Knowing this was more than what he should see, he stepped out of the med-bay instead finding comfort on the floor of the hall outside of the room. He didn’t dare move, not even as the ship steadied out within the confines of space or when the movements from within the room slowed considerably, some of the robots even leaving the room. He couldn’t and wouldn’t, unable to stall the sudden worry that had befallen him. 

Had he failed the mission? 

Had he failed you, the princess? 

Or rather Obi-Wan? 

He couldn’t stand any of it — not when he had worked so hard, trained his life away, not as he held your frame in his arms, a woman far too beautiful for that kind of ending where a man like him could only hold you in your last moments. 

Why hadn’t the force helped him? Saved you from this. 

It was hours when Obi-Wan had emerged from the pilot pit of the ship. His footsteps were heavy along the long corridors, his robes draping near his ankles. A curious brow was lifted as he found his young padawan sitting outside of the medical bay, his head between his knees, palms digging into his legs. Anakin didn’t even look up as the steps stopped in front of him. He was trying to mediate, trying to will away the fear, the anger, everything forbidden for a Jedi. He was trying to do everything his dear mentor had taught him. 

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan called out, pulling the young Jedi from his trance. Slowly the blue gaze of the Skywalker peered up to find his master looking down at him expectantly. 

Nodding for him to stand, his young apprentice followed and pulled himself to his feet. Entering the med-bay, Anakin felt to advert his eyes as Obi-Wan led him inside. He was afraid of what he would see, possibly your pale frame void of any pulse. He could sense his Master’s eyes on him, the expectations upon his shoulders at that moment, and though he didn’t wish, he lifted his head slowly. 

There upon the table, you still laid, eyes sealed away behind the confines of your eyelids. White blankets pulled up near your chin over your tunic and torso. Hair strewn behind your head, there was a steady rise of your chest, a rhythmic approach to it that had the young Jedi relieved. 

“She will be fine, my young Padawan. She is alive.” 

Anakin nodded, needing to hear those words more than anything, as he refused to look away then. Refused to peer anywhere than you as he felt like he hadn’t had much time to truly take you in until then. Until the chaos and the horror had passed into nothing but this momentarily passing of peace. 

He had forgotten what it was like to stare so shamelessly at a woman. Attachments were forbidden among Jedis, and thus, he had never taken much consideration of those within the Jedi temple or that he passed upon when he was in contact with the senate. It seemed even as he grew into a young man, he had pushed it all down, avoided it all, amongst the title that he was given of the chosen one. There was no room for weaknesses, for the possibility of failure. Not when this war relied on him. 

He felt his Master’s intense eyes following his, but even then, Anakin couldn’t help it. Couldn’t help as his eyes traced along the delicacies of your face, the way your jaw curved, and the gentle slope of your nose. Nor the concise shape of your brows quirked almost in discomfort or the long lashes that brushed your cheeks with such ease. Your lips were pink, and holding his attention the most.

He spoke then, still not looking away, “I had forgotten. Forgotten what it was like to be around a woman. To be able to look at one.” 

Obi-Wan hummed in interest as Anakin chuckled then, almost painfully. 

“Not since my mother and then Padme. I had forgotten, forgotten just how beautiful they can be.” 

Coruscant. It stared back at you through the window. The mere window of chambers that now were sanctioned to be yours. It was different. The city. The planet. From Bakura, you meant. More metal, more dull, yet more full of life. It was political, far more political than you ever realized, in the form of the Jedi Council, the Republic, the Senate. They all held control at the center of the galaxy, and you could merely stand at that window, fingers tracing the bandage along your abdomen uncertain of everything that lay before you. What to do now in the city of the Jedis?

You had woken up upon that medical bed in a frenzy, gasping for answers, afraid of where exactly you had ended up. Obi-Wan had appeared, and you had felt the tears appear, fall freely at the mere relief, and relinquish the control you could have. Lying there exhausted, you grieved, for your father, for your planet. For it all as it lay abandoned and burned down to nothing but dust. 

As your eyes traced the edges of the Senate building in the form of glass of bendable metal, sitting within the windowsill, you sighed at the sound of a soft knock upon the door. You hadn’t left the room since you had gotten there. After a few seconds without your answer, the door opened, and from outside Obi-Wans’s Padawan poked his head in. You felt his presence before he had opened the door or even knocked. It was almost as if you knew whenever he was hovering, waiting for what to do, waiting to see if you would talk. 

You weren’t sure how but you just did. 

Glancing over your shoulder, you sent a blank expression to him, and knowing it was all he would get, he stepped in without even so much of your permission. Closing the door to a mere crack behind him, you noted the stack of robes within his arms, folded nicely. They were bleak, looked long and comfortable at least, but completely unfamiliar. 

His blue hues matched yours, a comforting quirk within his lips forming, “I—uh brought these for you.”

You matched his stare but without your lips so much as saying anything, you merely quirked a brow up in response. His stature deflated slightly, that quirk disappearign into nothing but a fine line as he bowed his head and placed the robes upon the bed. “Obi-Wan has gone to speak to the council. He will be back very soon with good news I’m sure.”

Not able to bear the look on his face, how sweet he appeared, you turned back to the window, to the city, to the only future you had. Even though you weren't looking at him, it was like you could feel the disappoint flooding his system. So much so, that he turned on his heels, his boots echoing along the floor as he reached for the door. 

You felt your heart ache, your barrier fold in on itself just at the thought of him leaving with that look on his face and the dejection upon his frame. As he reached for the door-knob, you found yourself speaking far before you had even realized you had opened your mouth, “Wait.” 

He paused then, hand dropping from where he had reached for the door. Instead, as he hesitantly turned back to face you, he found you already looking at him, a certain softness now where that coldness once was. There was a gentleness then he hadn’t seen before, even after everything you had been through. 

With your hands laced upon your lap, you fiddled with the skin around your nails, uncertainty still plaguing your mind. Finding his intense gaze, you inhaled, “I wanted to— to thank you…” 

Your voice trailed off and as it did he quickly realized why it had. 

“Anakin,” he answered. 

That softness deepened even further, he noted. 

“Thank you, Anakin, for saving me.” 

He nodded, that dejection resolving back into his chest, instead enjoying how skillfully his name fell from your lips. “The pleasure was all mine. I am glad you are recovered and doing well your highness.” 

You bowed your head then, the title sounding so wrong, so devastating to you then. Enough so that you picked at your nails until one was bleeding. Anakin watched carefully, confused by the action alone as you sat there, lost in the depths of your thoughts. 

“I wish you wouldn’t do that,” you finally expressed. 

He rose a brow curiously, stepping closer into the room, silently begging you would look up at him again, “What?”

You smiled sadly, “Call me ‘your highness’ or ‘princess’. I’m far from that now.” 

There was a pause on his end, a moment to take in how sad the princess of Bakura truly was. He knew he shouldn’t question it. Where anyone else would her words, he didn’t, as if understanding you completely then, having been someone himself who had left everything he knew behind. His mother still lay slaved in the very place he had despised completely. 

So instead, he asked innocently, “What shall you have me call you then?”

Surprised by his ask, your eyes flickered up to meet his. There was a certain glint that filled his eyes, that smile of his there, peeking out. His expression had you completely transfixed, content in a way. 

Smiling softly, your hands relaxed along your lap, “Y/N.”

[pheonixgrave]

Need You (18+)

I honestly cannot believe how much the last three have taken off, it's actually fucking mindblowing. Thank you guys so much!!!!!!!

Warnings: Fluff and smut, blood drinking, we love Astarion in this household, mentions of Cazador

He loves her. After everything that’s happened and everything they’ve done, he loves her. They held each other all the way from the cemetery back to the camp. It was truly the best night since being back in Baldur’s Gate for her. They could forget that the outside world existed and just focus on each other. They could forget about her parents or Cazador. There was a peace to the night. There was a peace to them. She had loved him for a while. She had loved him since the first night. And she was content to have him however he would let her. She was ecstatic when he told her he wanted them to be something real. She had always been more than patient with him. She had cried when he said he loved her. 

It was a deeply emotional night. They held each other, they cried. Astarion knew he had feelings for her at Moonrise. He knew he loved her when she faced down an Orthon in his name. But he was terrified. And then they stood in Cazador’s palace. She hadn’t hesitated to say he would have killed her if they had met under different circumstances. She hadn't hesitated to shove Cazador off a cliff. He had never known her to be malicious. But he could see the look in her eyes as she went toe to toe with a vampire lord. It was certainty. It was defiance. It was breathtaking. 

This was real. He had to remind himself of that more often than not. Tav could have had Gale or Halsin. Mizora or Shadowheart. Wyll or Lae’zel. Anyone. But she chose him. And as she laid before him, her once pale skin now a deep golden and most of the softness in her body gone, he couldn’t help the feeling but to own the rest of her. Something about her made him want to be possessive. Sure, they were in the far corner of the rooms they had rented and had more privacy than normal. But he wanted to make her scream. 

He sat on his knees, hands gently stroking her thighs. They hadn’t slept yet and the sun was creeping through the windows. They hadn’t even moved past kissing. Everything felt different now. It felt all the more important. She had the same look in her eyes from the first night. Except there was no hesitation. She loves him. Astarion leaned towards her, hovering over her. Piercing red eyes met blue ones. He didn’t kiss her. Instead he kissed her cheek. And then the other one. And then just below her ear, slowly making his way to the bite scars that finally formed on her neck. 

He could feel her thighs tremble just from the brief contact. And the way she bared her neck to him was more than heavenly. But he didn’t bite her. Not yet. This was going to last as long as he pleased. She whined when he only sucked the skin around the scars. “Do you trust me?”

His breath was warm against her skin. She wanted him to take her so desperately and he was only taking his time. It was such a simple question but she couldn’t form the words. She nodded vigorously.

“Use your words, pet.”

She whined again but could barely whisper her answer. “I do.”

He smiled against her neck before taking her hands and putting them above her head. “That’s my girl.” He moved quickly, making her grip the bed frame. “Do not move your hands until I say so, understood?”

Her body shook. He had her pinned underneath him and her clit throbbed. She nodded again. 

“Try again, my dear.”

“I-I understand.” He had barely touched her and she already knew that the second he did, she was done for. 

He sat back and watched the elf squirm under his gaze. “Gods, you’re beautiful.” His voice always did something to her. But a reverent whisper was more than her body could handle already. Her skin was flushed and her chest was heaving. He trailed his hands from her arms to her waist, fingers barely ghosting her skin. 

“Atsarion, please!” Tav could see the hunger in his eyes. It made her weak that she couldn’t tell if it was for her or her blood. She’d give him either.

He smiled at her. There was so much emotion in his eyes that neither of them were afraid to put a name to now. They would never be afraid again. He kissed her. A slow, powerful kiss. He kissed her like he needed her. He kissed her like he couldn’t live without her anymore.

He made his way down her body, peppering light kisses along her neck. It took him ages to get to her breasts. He swirled his tongue around her nipples before biting each one. Not hard enough to break skin but hard enough for her to know he could. Her gasps quickly turned into moans as she wriggled against him. And he just kept going lower, every kiss a small worship of her. Her legs had been spread to fit him between them. He started with her thighs, small gentle kisses while his other hand rubbed circles into the other. First the right one then the left. 

She was shaking. A slave to his touch and his touch alone. And she cried out his name as he sunk his fangs into her thigh. He felt her muscles tighten as he drank. He knew this wasn’t supposed to be a pleasurable experience. And yet she seemed to almost crave it. It was intimate and held the building blocks for everything they’ve become. He drank slowly, his eyes never leaving her face. Her grip on the headboard was slipping but she was trying so hard to keep her hands there. 

Once he stopped, he let blood trickle out of the wound. Quietly enjoying how easily she had given herself to him. He used his fingers to spread her cunt and watched her squirm even more. She knew he’d give her what she craved but she had been waiting for so long now. 

“Eyes on me, pet. I want to see those pretty eyes.” Was the only thing he said before buried his face in her cunt. He's found it hard to have any amount of restraint when it comes to her. 

"Gods, Astarion," was all she could moan. Her eyes were half hooded but she tried to keep them on the piercing red eyes staring back at her. She would never understand how he could be that amazing with his tongue and able to focus on her at the same time. 

Tav was better prepared for him now. She didn't need nearly as much prep as she used to. But her finishing on his tongue? On his fingers? Almost nothing compared to that. Almost. Seeing his cum dripped out of her after he's reduced her to nothing more than a babbling mess? That was truly heaven. And it was Astarion's sole goal right now.

She tried so hard to keep her eyes trained on him. She could barely keep her eyes open as he gave her clit a harsh suck. She cried out for him. Instead of using his fingers to stretch her out, he took a hand and smeared the blood on her thigh around her skin. He made sure to leave his handprint on her stomach. Something about that shoved Tav over the edge. She came with a scream, her body finally finding the release she had so desperately needed. "Astarion!" 

He took his hand away, sucking the blood off it. "You taste delectable, pet." He purred before sinking his teeth into her other thigh. She cried out again, her body reveling in the pain. He didn't drink as much, but he wanted to see her bleed. He wanted Tav to know who she belonged to. And she was all too eager.

"Atsarion, I need to touch you." She begged and he was very tempted to refuse her. To make her keep her arms there while he had total control and full reign of her body. But even he couldn't deny how much he loved having her hold him. To feel her wrap herself in him. 

"Alright, but I expect you to behave, love." He hadn't moved. Her hands tangled themselves in his curls as he dived back to her cunt. This time, he teased her hole with the tips of his fingers. Her legs wrapped around his shoulders and her back arched as he slipped two fingers inside. The grip she had on his hair was rough. It hurt. And yet, it just made him go harder. She was always so tender with him. Always so careful, almost like he was made of glass. It drove him wild when she lost control and let her body make the rules. 

"You're so-Gods-you're perfect." She gasped out and he hooked his fingers inside of her. It wasn't long before he was pumping his fingers in and out of her while tracing shapes on her clit. 

She gave his hair a harsh tug, pulling him towards her. She pulled until he was face to face with her again, his fingers still working on her cunt. Now his palm was grinding against her clit. There was a mix of blood and slick on his face. She pulled him in for a hungry kiss. The taste of copper and her on his lips caused her cunt to clench around his hand. She arched towards him, crying out his name yet again. 

“Astarion,” she held his face in her hands, “I need you. I can’t wait any longer.”

“After all this time, I thought I would have taught you what patience was.” His forehead rested against hers. 

“Stop teasing, please!” She gasped, her body desperately trying to find any source of friction against him. 

“Then use your words, pet.”

It wasn’t the first time he had used those exact words. But it was the first time she hadn’t answered. Instead, she wrapped her legs around his waist and managed to flip him onto his back. “I could show you.”

He grinned at her, “By all means,” he slipped an arm underneath his head. He watched Tav realize her position. Her face flushed with embarrassment as she tried to piece together what to do next. If she wanted control, he was more than happy to let her have it. Even if she had no idea what to do with it.

She straddled him, her cunt just a motion away from his cock. Her brain was reeling, was he really just letting her take over? What should she do now? She could take the easy way and impale herself on him. But he had spent so much time teasing her and making her crave him. Maybe she could do the same. She fit his cock between her cunt, not inside. She braced her hands on his chest and started to grind her clit against him.

Needless to say, Astarion was caught off guard. It was finally his turn to start writhing underneath her. It didn’t take long for him to throw his head back. Tav always thought he looked so pretty with his chest heaving and his skin flushed. And he was even prettier covered in blood. The blood from her thighs was a stark contrast on his pale skin. She didn’t consider herself a dark person or someone that enjoyed the darker parts of pleasure. Yet, when it came to him, she craved it. 

His hands flew to her thighs to stop her ministrations. He sat up and wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. “That’s not what I thought you asked for, pet.”

She moaned as he pushed the tip of his cock inside her. “I-I wanted to-Gods above, Asatrion!” She cried out as he pushed the rest of the way inside her. 

“Shh, pet. I’ve got you.” He pulled her head on his shoulder and gently stroked her hair. She wrapped her arms around him, for once not being cautious of the scars on his back. “I’ll take care of you.” His thrusts were slow and deep. He was just enjoying her cries of pleasure and how her body trembled. Suddenly, there was no outside world. No Illithids, no gods. No Tieflings or goblins. It was just them, wrapped in each other like it could be the last time. It was simply Astarion’s quiet worship and Tav’s love for him. 

“I love you,” she whimpered into his shoulder. “Gods, I love you.”

His thrusts faltered for only a moment, “Say that again.”

She pulled her head up to look him in the eyes, “I love you.”

Something snapped inside him. He kissed her, gentle at first. Then suddenly rabid. He threw her on her back so fast she thought she imagined it. The slow thrusts suddenly turned into an almost bruising pace. He had never fucked her like that before. Every thrust knocked the wind out of her. His hand grasped around her throat as she came with a silent scream. She dug her nails into his back almost hard enough to draw blood. 

It was hard to think, it was hard to register anything but the feeling of him hitting that spot inside her that made her see stars. She could barely make out his whispered groans of “I love you.” 

The grip around her neck tightened. She couldn’t breathe but she couldn’t find it in her to care. Her eyes closed as she came yet again on his cock. “Such a good pet,” was all he could manage before his hips lost their rhythm. He couldn’t help but cum inside of her. It was his turn to shake, to tremble in her arms. He didn’t pull out, he wasn’t ready to lose that warmth. 

But Tav? Tav saw opportunity. She rolled him over once again. His cock never once leaving her. He was still so impossibly hard and she wasn’t one to let an opportunity like that slide. She remembered riding him for the first time and tried to mimic those movements. 

And the vampire spawn was too far gone to do anything but try and meet her hips. His hair was stuck to his forehead and his skin was as flushed as it possibly could be. His nails dug into her thighs. “Shit.” It didn’t take long for him to finish yet again. And she wasn’t too far behind him. Eventually, she rolled off onto the other side of the bed. They laid there, their hands intertwined until the dried blood and cum became far too uncomfortable for either of them. 

It was the quiet intimacy of climbing into a cool bath together that cemented what happened. Astarion was truly free of Cazador and he had found someone who loved him simply for being him. It may have confused him time and time again. And as small as she felt when she was pressed against him, he knew he was safe with her. Not just his body, but his soul as well. It didn’t hurt that she was moderately terrifying in battle either. For the first time since the nautiloid, they both felt…At peace.

[insxghtt]

the rage of a mother IV — aemond targaryen x reader

Aemond finally managed to prove to his family that you were not insane, but now he wondered if it was worth it.

warnings: grieve, violence, blood, death, angst.

previous chapter in here. english is not my first language so i’m sorry if you find any mistakes. hope you like it!

You followed the guards around the halls of the castle, on your way to the dungeon where your prisoner was. Aemond followed you, but you refused to look at him. You knew he wouldn’t want you to touch the man. Not that he cared about him, but because he feared for your soul. You were already mourning your daughter, you didn’t need to see more violence.

Before you could turn to the hall where the dungeon was, Aemond grabbed your arm and turned you to face him.

“I cannot let you do this”, he whispered.

“Why? You’ve spent the whole afternoon torturing the man. Why should I show him mercy?”

“I am not asking you to show him mercy”, Aemond touched your cheek. “I am begging you to let me kill him. I cannot sit back and watch my wife get her hands dirty with the blood of a traitor.”

“My hands are already dirty”, you said and took his hand away from your face. “I need her name, Aemond.”

“And then what? What do you intend to do? Kill her?”

You didn’t answer. To kill a witch was not as easy as it seemed. It would be dangerous and maybe that was exactly what Rhaenyra wanted.

“We must be patient, my love”, he continued to speak, but you did not listen.

“Rhaenyra has already put a target in our heads.”

“She got what she wanted from you.”

“You are a fool if you believe that”, you said. “She will not stop. I know it because it is what I would do. It is what I will do, my dear.”  

Aemond felt his heart ache as he watched you walking away from him and enter the door. He thought about the woman you used to be and the woman you became. He remembered the way you smiled after the birth of your little girl, how you held her like you were always meant to do that, but his thoughts were soon interrupted by the screams of the man.

You’ve stayed inside that room for hours, but Aemond refused to leave. He stood next to the door, trying to control his urge to walk in the room and take you away. What stopped him was the certainty that you would never forgive him if he did.

At that point he did not know if he did the right thing by bringing the man to the Red Keep. Aemond did not expect you to act like that, he was just trying to prove to his own family that you were not insane.

Suddenly, the screams ceased. The silence pierced his ears and he knew what it meant. His lovely wife, the one that used to have the purest soul he had ever seen, took the man’s life by herself.

You opened the door and he looked at you. Your head was held high, red drops of blood covered your cheeks and stained your hands and dress.

“Alys Rivers”, you said without looking at him. “The name of the witch is Alys Rivers.”

꧁꧂

“Ser Criston has a lot to do”, Alicent argued. “He cannot leave the castle to look for a witch we have never heard of until now in the lands of our enemies.”

The family gathered on the small council. Aegon, this time, was present and surprisingly sober. Otto Hightower watched silently, Ser Criston Cole stood next to Alicent, and Aemond was sitting next to you. He begged his mother to send someone after the woman responsible for the death of his daughter, but apparently, he was the only one who understood and shared your pain.  

“Great, I do not need him”, you said and stood from your chair. “I can find her myself.”

“No!”, Aemond raised his voice and held your hand tight. “You will stay here. I will send men after her.”

You sighed and sat down again. Aemond was the love of your life, but it was exhausting to be in the presence of his family for so long.

“We need these men here, Prince Aemond”, Ser Criston said, “If the word spreads and Rhaenyra finds out, she will see this as an opportunity to attack.”

“What do you suggest then?”, your husband tighten his hand around yours, trying to control his anger. “That we let the woman who killed my daughter walk free?”

“My Prince...”, Ser Criston tried to speak, but Alicent interrupted him.

“We are simply saying that we should wait for the right moment.”

You laughed sarcastically at the words of your mother-in-law.

“Perhaps the King should be the one to decide it”, Otto said and, suddenly, all eyes turned to the new King.

Aegon’s gaze was focused on his own hands. He felt the stares and looked at his mother.

“You are right, mother. We should wait for the right moment.”

“I wonder if you would say that if it was your child”, Aemond said and you caressed his hand with your thumb.

“I am not finished, brother”, Aegon raised from his chair and looked at you. “The man knew her in person, did he not?”

“Yes, your grace”, you answered.

“Did he describe her?”

“Yes, your grace”, you nodded. “White skin and long dark hair.”

“Where did you find him?”, he turned to Aemond.

“I’ve sent two men to look for evidences to prove that my wife was not mad like many of you said”, he said with grudge. “They found him running away from Harrenhal, speaking of a curse and brought him to me.”

“Harrenhal was taken by the blacks”, Otto remembered.

“Then we shall take it back.”

“And how will you do that, your grace? They have strong walls and we cannot risk to lose soldiers until the army from the north arrives”, Otto said.

“They have walls”, Aemond stood from the chair and looked at the man. “We have Vhagar.”

taglist (dm me or send me an ask to be added): @hydrationqueensworld @m00n5t0n3 @maylaysia109 @ebaylee422 @afro-hispwriter @starjane312 @msmarvel-19​ @innercreationflower​

[nelissecrectplace]

your warrior

neytiri x gn reader

word count: 818

language: ‘evenge-girl , yawne- beloved

description: ¡Establish relationship! Life as a future leader of clan was no easy feat, especially when the na’vi you called yours was a warrior. Of course the two of you make every moment count, even when patching her up.

Lazily mixing the herbal paste you allowed your mind to wander. Making herbal remedies all day was tiring. In your opinion, it was the most dreadful tasks of the healers. Sighing with your whole body you continue to grind up the leafs praying that they would magically grind themselves too dust. The boredom was unbearable.

Almost as if Eywa had sensed your misery the flap of the tent was opened. Joyfully whipping your body around you were quick to rise to your feet. You felt your tail wip in excitement as a familiar sent filled your senses.

“Neytiri!” Launching yourself onto the woman you embraced her. Feeling her slender yet toned arm wrap around your frame made your stomach swirl. It did not matter how many times she’s touched you the feeling never seemed to go away.

“Hello yawne.” Hearing her low voice you were quick to pull away, she only spoke like this when something was bothering her. Face warping into worry your eyes scanned her frantically. Eventually finding the source of her discomfort you quickly guided the woman down onto the mat. Anxiously, your body moved at a record speed, gathering all the pastes and herbs you would need.

“You said you would stay away from those tawtute.” Displeasure obviously in your tone you began to pat the blood off her thigh. You had seen enough bullet wounds to know these cuts were from sky people’s weapon. “Yet we can not keep ignoring them. It’s only a matter of time before they become aggressive again.” Stubbornly Neytiri attempted too reason, hoping you would see what she sees. Of course it was no use as your frown only deepened.

Eyes downcast you refused to meet the woman’s gaze as you tended to her wound. Neytiri could only sign at your headstrong personality, knowing it was one of the reasons she admired you so. “I am not out there, I can not stop you.” Rising to your knees you peered down at her. “Just be careful. I can not lose you.”

“I am always careful.” Meeting your eyes with a light smile Neytiri responded. She couldn’t help but admire the way you looked at her with such care in your eyes. It always amused her how you could get worked up over such minor injuries . Not tearing her eyes away from your form for a minute she watched as you moved around the tent. Feeling the burn of her gaze you couldn’t help but feel flustered. There was no doubt your braids were a mess from the days work, that fact only seeming to add to the purple hue on your face.

“I am fine! You cannot pretend to be mad forever.” Feeling her breath fan against your ear your body stiffened. Pretending to be busy with organizing the herbs you avoided her piercing gaze. Not having any of it Neytiri wrapped her tail around your leg. You couldn’t help but shiver at the contact as her tail slowly inched up.

Meeting her teasing gaze it was hard to believe this was the strong warrior the public views. “You are infuriating” Not giving her a secant to respond you crash your lips into hers. Seeming to play right into her hands Neytiri couldn’t help but smile into the kiss. Her hands traveling up to pull on your already messy braids. Placing your hands on her hips you pulled her impossibly closer basking in her heat.

Pulling away Neytiri wore a proud smile as her fangs on full display. A small smile settled on your face despite your attempts to maintain your facade. “You love the way I ‘infuriate’ you yawne.” Pushing the fallen strands of braids behind your ears her yellow eyes scanned your features. “True, my days would be boring without you.” Maintaining a teasing tone you pulled away from the na’vi, putting the medicines up for the night. “You are my ‘evenge after all.”

It was now Neytiri turn to be shy as she avoided your gaze. The purple hue of her ears prominent. “I am not yours yet.” Shyly reminding you of the reality Neytiri spoke low. Her tone almost sorrowful.

“You will be soon, the clan can talk all they want about how ‘weird’ it is that i’m the healer and you’re the warrior.” Bringing Neytiri back into your embrace a small laugh left the woman’s lips. “I can already hear the ‘She’s Mo’ats daughter why is she not the Tsahík’.” Adding onto your point the two of you couldn’t help but giggle at the remarks.

Placing your forehead on hers you stared into her yellow orbs. “I promise to make you mine, so I can always patch you up.” A fanged smile covered Neytiri face at your words. It was now her turn to smash her lips into yours. Her body pushing into you with all the love and passion she harbored.

a/n- Short little drabble for the one and only mother 🤭. I wish I had more ideas too write about her with :,)

tag: @yeosxxx

[athanasius-symposium-of-writings]

Darling Silent Bird

Rated M

unbeta-ed

TW: dark, non-con elements, captivity, forced mute reader,

a/n: listen i can explain (i wont) blame his outfit! this fic might have part two idk just needed to write this idea out lol

A tower, grand and tall, it pierced the heavens. Here the Emissary of God, the King who believed himself a Sun rains and rules with cruelty. His word is the word of God and as such is divine law.

But he is a man, flesh and sinful no matter how much he delivers penance upon himself.

His sin, his vice, his deliverance, his light and darkness: you. You who dare make his flesh ache, you who cursed the emissary with lustful thoughts, you who dare reject him when he called upon you. A simple human who should have been grateful to be called upon by the King in the High Tower, Lord of Babel! Instead, you ran. Fleeing with your lover to the neighboring extension of Babel, Zot.

From there, a new life was going to be made in the forest free from the eyes of the king. But… He found you.

“We have consummated our marriage! I am bound by my body and word to my beloved!” You had shouted the words as your partner and yourself were brought before the King, the room was so cold that day as if the warmth of the Sun dared not enter. With cuffs and chains of heavy iron, dirty from trying to outrun the guards and falling on the ground.

You will never understand how he felt threatened by the love between a farmer girl and a shepherd. How they wedded in a small church and swore to each other to never part.

Love is pure and celebrated, yet he will say it was a sinful union. Lies, spreading it like spilled ink, about the shepherd who was possessed by an unholy creature. How it seduced you and the great Lord of the High Tower saved you… Cleansed you of its taint.

It is not your place to understand madness.

His eyes are hot like the flames of judgment, his lips sneering at why you shout your love for a person who is not him. You cried, pleading with him to see the love shared between your partner and you, to ask the God of the heavens to show him the truth of these words.

Your partner had spoken up, named everything they loved about you, that they would prove before the Heavenly King of the love and bond they have with you.

“Oh?” A bored expression, “Then by all means show your love!” Snapping his fingers, the guard removed your lover’s cuffs. “Give them a sword.” Gesturing to the guard holding your partner down.

The confusion on both your faces was priceless—It seems, “If you so dearly love her,” He stood up slowly, “Kill my guards.”

A guard tosses a blade on the floor and your beloved with shaking hands picks up the sword, “My lord,” The sword is awkward in their hands, “Killing is a sin.” They are… They followed the laws, they are gentle-spirited, and they were not a fighter.

“Indeed it is, yet,” Standing with narrowed cold eyes, “If you do not kill, you will die.”

The guard drawing their swords, the sound of metal sliding out of the sheathes ringing in your ears.

You screamed for mercy that day, begged as they toyed with your beloved. Cutting, laughing— The King laughed as they made the death of the commoner cruel and slow. 

“Halt,” Your lover, your heart, laying on the ground in a pool of their own blood in what is supposed to be a sacred place. A place where the Emissary of God and His light shine with blinding radiance, how wrong is this scene that will haunt your dreams?

“Watch.” He whispers as you are pulled by your hair to expose your neck bare to the Sun King.

Silence.

In the darkness, a numbness settles around you. The moon is high above the cage. Hues of blue that is your illumination, you stare up before sitting up on the ruined bed stained and smelling of sex. You reach up as if you could capture your solo companion the King cannot take away from you, not until the sun steals its place.

At night, your heart escapes into the hands of the moon. A cold, distant, creature that hears your songs of morning. Witnessing your tears, your sorrowful dance with the chain rattling with your movements.

The Sun King has taken you as his own. He promises to marry you once preparations are made.

“If the tongue offends,” Grinning as he spoke, “Cut it out.”

You will never be able to speak during the day. In the light of His brilliance, you speak no evil! At night, you will sing only of His glory and gospel.

Laughable given the bastard--The murderer-- The king of ruin takes you at night whenever he feels his fleshly desires can no longer be prayed away.

Disgusting, you hate him! Hate him for being this fabricator of falsehoods and twisted needs!

You cry in your hands as his touch stains your skin, imprinted upon your body as he is viciously trying to erase the trace of your first from your body. He hates that, hates your first was not his. So he treats you like some whore! As if you were frivolous and should be shameful.

The sun, scorning and blinding, is your warden and enslaver. 

When the cage opens, you dare not move from your spot on the floor near the shadows on the other side of the large cage.

A new piece of furniture is added as a gift each year during the winter. A bed, a vase, flowers, and other materialist things the Sun King believes will please you. The gift he recently gave you is a dress. It drapes over you like the way the bedsheet did when he punished you by stripping you down to bear your shame.

You take all of his sins. All that is of the flesh is taken by you his vice and confessor.

The dress leaves nothing to the imagination and is white like the marble of the floors; reflects light well to the point of… He smiles as he makes you twirl in the dress, an angel. 

Years pass. Winters past. And soon your wedding is announced when he deems you are docile enough to be seen by others.

He lies claiming ‘God’ has gifted him you, that the moment his eyes saw you he and you were connected by the light of His blessing.

The wedding is grand—Grand and noisy. You feel sick the whole time. Being close to him is like enduring the fire at the stake, a slow and painful death.

Summer. Longer days and shorter nights. You once loved the season until you relied on the moon to be able to speak.

Summer is when the whispers of rebellion are no longer whispers, they are shouts and cries. Discontent, paranoia, and the Sun King, Lord of Babel is becoming more antsy.

You feel nothing. Within your cage, nothing outside of it matters. If the rebellion wins or loses, you doubt much will change. She told you so. In the brightest corners of the night, She whispers in your dreams. Your voice calling out to Her and She calling out to you with your voice.

She tells you to fear nothing, to turn away from the Sun, from the False God and his emissary. She will ascend when the time is right and you will be there to deliver a true revolution.

Patience. You obey, you dance and sing for the Sun King, but your eyes are on the moon above.

The cries become louder as Zot falls. Brought to ruins by a ‘Morningstar’, a demon they call him. Ruthless and clever, he has risen from the seven hells to destroy the High Towers of the heavenly God and swears that the Lord of Babel will fall.

Those who are oppressed cheer for him though they dare not voice it within the radiance and wrath of the Sun King.

“None will harm you, my love.” Does he even know what love is? He claims to love you yet love would not make a cruel creature like him. You allow him to make his promises, his lips on your forehead and cheeks, his hands shake… He is losing his confidence as the army is just outside the walls, and his people turn against him.

“Nothing will harm you.” He sleeps on your lap, he knows you have no will to fight or kill him, he broke you long ago when he killed your lover. 

Most are happy with the fall of the king. The rebellion caused the kingdom of Babel to crumble and give way to chaos in the land.

The king is overthrown, the oppressed become the oppressors, and new lies are made into law. 

He is the Lord of the Morningstar and none will raise a tower to God for the Morningstar is the new God of the land.

In crimson, he paints the kingdom. Blood is his paint.

In ebony, the shadows hide the betrayals. Those close to the Sun King helped in his fall, the eclipse of the sun to darken the land.

And in ivory, he dresses you as his consort. The most treasured of the Sun King, a mortal who sings and dances at his beck and call.

The guards show you to the new King, a Lord of Slaughter and Rebellion. You are shown to him even though those guards were sworn to protect you. Maybe they see you as an oppressor rather than a victim like they are. Guess being called the ‘Sun Queen’ makes you seem just as guilty.

Blind to your pain, they simply wish to toss you away or have you switch from one captor to another.

You were the favorite and you are just an object… A pet.

A bird in a golden cage, marble and stained glass room with the centerpiece of your cage surrounded by various flowers and birds singing a tune. You are displayed like a prize and the invader is more than happy to claim.

“Do you speak?”

You turn away from the man in crimson with a black crown-style mask. He eyes the graceful movements of your body as you sit on the bed in the center of your cage. The sound of keys jingling, metal gears clicking, and creaking of the cage door.

You soundlessly sigh as you bow your head.

“A mute bird,” The clicking of his heels nearly makes you jump up and run away… But you know he wants that. Monsters like him love the thrill of the hunt. “But a pretty bird,” He stands beside you at the foot of the bed. “Nonetheless.” The back of his hand, the metal claws of a beast from some fairytale, slides down caressing the bare back left open by your dress. You hold back a shiver and a cringe as he tugs at the chain connected to the golden collar around your neck.

Chains and cuffs on your wrists and ankles are all connected by different points of the cage. Long enough to give you room but a reminder of your place.

You will never be free. This was a promise he made long ago the moment your lover and voice were stolen from you.

The new king pulled the chain behind your neck and caused you to fall backward, your reaction he sought to feed on but you gave none.

He scowls as you turn your head away staring at the open caged door as his hand switches to the silk of your dress. You know what he wants, the king wanted and took from you many times, and your body goes lax-- Doll-like to allow whatever happens to happen.

[promptling]

CARMILLA by j. sheridan le fanu, edited by carmen maria machado

did you realize he killed her off?

who reads an introduction?

i long for the door to open.

i did not know that it was possible.

i did not realize my soil was not salted.

she is already dead.

someone did lie there, the place is still warm.

lord hear all good prayers for us, for jesus's sake.

the poor young lady is dead.

the letter appears to me to have been written in distraction.

i'm in one of my moping moods tonight.

i forget the rest.

was ever a being so born to calamity?

i cannot, dare not, delay.

it would be so delightful.

where am i? what is this place?

how do you like our guest?

tell me about her.

how very odd to say all that!

i hope i have not done a very foolish thing.

how wonderful!

i saw your face in a dream, and it has haunted me ever since.

i could not forget your face.

i don't know which of us should be more afraid of the other.

if you were less pretty i think i should be very much afraid of you.

i wonder whether you feel as strangely drawn towards me as i do to you.

i have never had a friend.

i shan't require assistance.

it is very hard to part with you.

young people like, and even love, on impulse.

heavens! if i had but known all!

your little heart is wounded.

if your dear heart is wounded, my wild heart bleeds with yours.

you are mine, you shall be mine, you and i are one forever.

what can you mean by this?

i don't know myself when you look so and talk so.

don't you perceive how discordant that is?

i think it very sweet.

you pierce my ears.

you must die - everyone must die - and all are happier when they do.

i don't trouble my head about peasants.

tell me nothing about ghosts.

i hope there is no plague or fever coming.

sit here, hold my hand.

that comes of strangling people with hymns!

i shall demand redress from him.

then you have been ill?

let us talk no more of it.

you would not wound a friend?

you are afraid to die?

girls are caterpillars while they live in the world, to be finally butterflies when the summer comes; but in the meantime there are grubs and larvae, don’t you see—each with their peculiar propensities, necessities and structure.

are you glad i came?

how romantic you are.

i have been in love with no one, and never shall, unless it should be with you.

i live in you, and you would die for me, i love you so.

is there a chill in the air?

it is the last time, perhaps, i shall see the moonlight with you.

i have been thinking of leaving you.

do you think that you will ever confide fully in me?

you do not know how dear you are to me.

i am under vows, no nun half so awfully.

you will think me cruel, very selfish, but love is always selfish.

how jealous i am you cannot know.

you must come with me, loving me, into death; or else hate me and still come with me, and hating me through death and after.

there is no such word as indifference in my apathetic nature.

you are going to talk your wild nonsense again.

were you ever at a ball?

i was all but assassinated in my bed.

love will have its sacrifices.

no sacrifice without blood.

you see it now with your own eyes.

you must not plague me with questions.

you are not to trouble your head about it.

i should tell you all with pleasure, but you should not believe me.

you puzzle me utterly.

i had no hope of meeting you so soon.

[confessionsofamasc]

#2

Things appear to stand apart from each other; they create contrast. Contrast leads to tension and tension does not inevitably end in terror. No, I don’t negate myself. I was called a little girl and inside of that little girl was the person who I am and who I have always been. That I call myself a man is not a contradiction and it is not a correction. If a mistake was made it was the mistake of the immediate dwindling of potentials for my life at the outset. I cannot correct this. My manhood was not a factory reset. “The past is never dead”, and all that. 

Being a man is not a burial, it is not even a resurrection. It seems beyond me that I arrived here. The mechanisms that clamped down on my life when I was born remain exactly where I have always known them to be. My ability to choose what I do with my body, with my self, my ability to be taken seriously, my labor, the roles people expect me to play in their lives remain fraught. People cannot take my word for that, but that is part of it.

I was a child when I came to know that I could become pregnant. This was a reality I could not allow. I was seized with terror. I understood that there was something about me that would make this experience life threatening, I was full of tension I could not place. Instinctually I knew this tension would be resolved through some kind violence. I insisted that I would not let it happen and my mother reassured me either that I wouldn’t have to or that I didn’t need to think about it yet, probably both. 

I had always been called a tomboy. I liked things that were “for boys”, which boiled down to adventure, exploration, knowing. I liked dragons, bugs, reptiles, fish. I don’t believe any of this to be gendered. I did not express a desire to be perceived as a boy, I insisted on wearing “boy” pull-up diapers because they had the cartoon characters I liked on them, a choice that attracted criticism from my preschool teachers. I had no interest in my appearance and I was not in any position to dress myself or dictate how I would like to look. That was never an option and it would not be until I was able to insist with enough force. I simply expressed a desire for the things that I liked and regarded everything else with ambivalence. 

My long hair was allowed to grow tangled, my disinterest in picking up on the feminine codes I was expected to understand, my outright resistance to them (I was terrified of getting my ears pierced, I hated feeling restricted by my hair or my clothes, I played rough and shamelessly) quickly left me without any solid social standing with the majority of my peers. I was not feminine, but I was not masculine. I was adrift. I was resented by caretakers for being difficult and then left alone for it. No other options were offered to me and my exploration went unnoticed. I doubt the adults in my life understood that there were other options and I doubt they would have had the energy to pay that much attention if they did. If they had been different people, perhaps there would have been concern or more outright anger and coercion than there was (and there inevitably was more and more of it), but they were simply not around. I slipped through the cracks.

I recognize this now as a part of the bigger issue of the neglect I endured as a child. If the adults in my life had been present perhaps I would have been made to learn to act like a little girl. But the fact that I did not was to my detriment, it has had permanent consequences. I did not escape the expectation.  I received plenty of reprimands and my isolation was stark and only increased as my peers grew socially and I grew in a different direction. There was a growing threat of violence that I felt coming for me, but I didn’t know why. It was written off as anxiety. No one taught me how to act in a way that would let me cohere socially and what I saw on my own I did not want. And so I was failing without knowing it, without understanding that I was. I felt I was lost alone in a very interesting jungle.

I was a child who was deeply alone, a ball of wants and curiosities with no existing shape I could measure them against, no structure to guide me. I did not talk to adults for many years of my life. My world was other children. I had the capacity to recognize affinities between myself and others, but no way of understanding that want, let alone actualizing them. 

I did have friends, at least one of whom I now know to be a butch woman. I played as if I were an equal with certain boys because we had not yet fully understood that we weren’t supposed to. I played with girls too, I admired them. We got along in different ways and similar ways. I don’t remember a secret simmering hatred or judgment anywhere in them, that was instilled later. There were certainly kids I avoided, boys who were cruel to girls, but mostly I did not understand my own impulses or instincts. I only followed them. I am struck by how we were all so full of potential in spite of everything.

[alltimefail-sims]

Hi friends, happy Friday!

The Sims team recently collaborated with Ebonix and dropped the "Urban Homage" CAS kit on April 18th, so you guys already know I had to snatch it up and give my thoughts. I'm a week late, but I'll give you the TLDR up front: I like every item that came in this kit. Yes, I'm just as shocked as you are!

Sidenote: Don't worry, even though they aren't pictured above we will be looking at the male assets as well - they're in their own separate section under the cut!

With all that being said, let's jump into it! ↓

First, let me show you those masculine frame outfits I promised:

Okay, now I'm just going to get my minimal qualms out of the way:

I wish the female frame bodysuit labeled as a top could have also been in the full-body category. I love that it can be layered with other skirts and such, but it's soooo cute by itself and we don't have anything like it, especially for everyday or workout purposes.

Next, the joggers should have been enabled for both frames and same goes for the overalls. You can untick the "female" or "male" clothing preference in CAS and they both look fine on the opposite frame, but obviously there is some minor distortion in the chest area on fem frames when they wear the overalls.

I also wish the basketball shorts came in some simpler, sleeker swatches alongside the bolder prints and colors.

That's literally it: miniscule complaints really, and trust me when I say these complaints are nitpicky for a reason - I struggled to find critiques for this particular kit.

As for literally everything else not mentioned above: I love these clothes, and I think there are a few items that I will use over and over again.

All the bottoms are superb

The loose jersey is an item that we desperately needed in game

The dashiki swatches are stunning

The fit of every item across the board is immaculate on a wide range of body types.

The few simple items snuck into this kit - the cropped denim jacket, the tie crop shirt, the open button down, etc. are so versatile and beautifully executed.

The trendy butterfly top, the skinny pants with cutouts in the side, and the platform ankle boots (specifically the flame swatches!!) have all been tackled by cc-makers; these versions that come in this kit are right on par with the cc counterparts out there, a HUGE win for console players who cannot use cc.

Basically, these clothes look like clothes I could actually see real people wearing...unlike some items that have come in packs in the past that feel far too niche or look like leftover items that didn't fit in a different EP or GP. (I'm looking at you CAS items from Crystal Creations... I know those assets were 80% Realm of Magic rejects lmao. Not that I'm mad, I like a lot of the items, but they really aren't super versatile.)

Perhaps the most surprising treasures in this pack, however, actually lie within the accessory categories. Wild realization for me because when it comes to accessories in the sims I'm usually indifferent at best and confused if the devs have ever seen a real human out in the wild at worst (because let's be honest...that shit is usually so oversized and weird looking it's basically unusable). But I have to give these accessories their moment in the sun because WOW. I can't believe I'm uttering the words "I love" next to "kit accessories..." but Hell hath frozen over I guess. Here are some screenshots:

Every accessory (with the exception of the GORGEOUS headwrap) is enabled for masculine frame; this includes the rings (left & right), necklaces, earrings, facial piercing, and even the nails. The facial piercing shocked me the most as I've never used the piercings we've been given in other packs - they're always thick, bulky, and chunky in the worst way. But, much to my amazement, this nose piercing is sooooooo good and even come in a number of decent swatches outside of gold, silver, black! In fact, I liked it so much that I'm ditching the cc nose ring on my OC Ta'Nia and swapping it for the nose piercing that came with this kit. Even on a sim with a downturned nose tip and wider set nostrils (like the male sim I used in the screenshots) I felt like the piercing still looked great!

I only have one complaint about the accessories, and it's that I wish we were given more than one set of nails, or at least more color swatches for the nails. Black, red, and blue bases with chrome tips are just too limited to me, especially with all the vibrant colors we see in this pack! I would have liked a set of nails with intricate airbrushing/hand-drawn designs or ones that utilized gems and charms along with some variation in length and a shape outside of the trendy coffin or oval nails at medium length. I know this is picky, but cc nails are killing the game right now whereas the sims team continually plays it safe and, imo, it's boring; console players deserve to have glamorous works of art on their sim's fingers as well!

OKAY... time for my wrap-up thoughts!

Look at me saying this wouldn't be a long review... yet here we are, a whole ass Ted Talk later lol. Overall, I personally encountered zero major issues in this kit. (Please note that when I say "major" I am talking about hoodies that make eyes 3x their original size or jewelry that corrupts the body of a sim lol.) I will say that I saw some people saying they noticed some discoloration on the facial piercings that came with this pack (textures/colors bleeding from some other CAS items onto the piercings) but I didn't personally have that issue. If there are any other issues outside of the discolored piercings, I didn't encounter them and I haven't seen others talking about them.

TLDR: For me, this and the grunge kit are the standard of what a good CAS kit should look like. I think I'll be using several of these items often, and the content is easily worth $5.00 (unlike the party kit that dropped alongside this one... but that's a topic for another day). If you're going to give EA $5.00 for a kit, I confidently recommend this one.

Remember to use the creator code "EBONIX" at checkout so Ebonix can receive 5% of the proceeds when you purchase this kit!

I hope you all enjoyed my ramble. What are your favorite items from the kit? What do you think could have been better? Let me know in the replies or send me an ask; I always love hearing your guys' thoughts.

Talk to you all later! Hugs x

[kudouusagi]

Hey, I know this is random but I noticed you seem to be pretty familiar with SK8. Someone on Twitter is passing misinformation (to what I know) to a huge following that a Japanese exclusive interview said that Reki has a belly button piercing. Is this true? I cannot find this info anywhere.

Unless I managed to miss an interview (Pretty sure I didn't. I bought over 30 magazines in 6 months for the interviews) it was never stated in an interview that he has a piercing of any kind. And his shirt rides up so much that I think we would have seen it by this point.

Also, I know the Japanese fan artists would NOT have slept on that in their fan art.

Realistically, it's illegal in Japan to get piercings of any kind under 18 without parent approval so it's highly unlikely. Some people get parent approval for ear piercings but most high schools don't allow kids to wear piercings so it would be hard to keep them open even if they did get them pierced in high school. (Well, some schools have become more lax about this but I believe the majority still don't allow them.) It wasn't allowed at my school but I still knew some kids that wore clear piercings and if they were caught they were forced to take them out. (they'd put them back in when the teacher wasn't looking unless the teacher confiscated them lol)

I know Cherry might have been underage and he had a whole bunch of lip and ear piercings but it's also easier to pierce those type of areas yourself... a belly button... not so much. I wonder what it was like in school for Cherry... I picture him wearing clear piercings and hiding his ears under his hair and stuff.

[melmedardasworld]

A Forbidden Secret II

Part II of A Forbidden Secret

Klaus stilled at Bonnie's revelation. Her words echoed through his ears. Klaus's expression shifted from confusion to shock. "That's impossible," he whispered. Klaus narrowed his eyes, instantly searching for traces of deceit in Bonnie's eyes. He found no such thing in her irises that never left wavered. His callous demeanor resurfaced, and his voice lowered an octave. "Vampires cannot procreate."

Bonnie chewed on her lower lip. The weight of his comment bore down on her as she expected. But now that she shared the truth, the twisting unease in Bonnie's stomach abated. The moving skin around her eyes settled. Bonnie's voice was soft and her words reasonable. "Vampires, yes, but you're not just a vampire," she emphasized. "You're a werewolf, Klaus, which makes all the difference. For some reason, Nature allowed this."

Klaus remained silent, processing the information. His eyes dropped to her stomach. The itch in the depths of his chest was too alien. Klaus kept quiet for so long that it unnerved Bonnie. The comforting weight of his large hand on her leg disappeared. No doubt, many thoughts raced through his mind. A complicated look briefly flashed along his face while Klaus struggled to process the news. But Bonnie's heart dropped when that struggle fell flat and became an unreadable mask. "You're pregnant with my children." Klaus slowly got up, and his piercing blue gaze swept over Bonnie. The scrutiny sends chills over her spine. "Do you expect me to believe such rubbish?"

Bonnie's eyes widened, but she quickly concealed the hurt from Klaus's accusing tone. "I'm not lying!" she exclaimed, standing up. Bonnie ignored the heat pooling on her face. "You're the only one I've been with."

Klaus moved towards her like a viper, causing Bonnie to flinch. He loomed over her frame like a predator stalking its prey. The muscle in his jaw feathered as he spoke. "Forgive me my skepticism, love, but you'd have better luck tricking me if you told me my parents clawed back from the depths of hell with the devil himself."

Bonnie processed the accusation in Klaus's words before her brows knitted together. "Wait. You- you think I'm here to one-up you?" She balled her hands into fists and copied his frosty expression.

"You show up unannounced in my city, knock at my door, lure my brother away with your cousin, and then spin this ridiculous tale." Klaus sneered, "this facade is disappointing and unnecessary, little witch." The words leaving his mouth left behind an acrid taste in his mouth. "There is no need to resort to silly fibs. It's not our first time working together. We can even agree not to mix business with pleasure this time."

Bonnie's frustration boiled over. "You really think I would go through all this, use children, out of everything, to mess with you?!" Saying it out loud sounded ridiculous. "Whether you accept it or not, I'm pregnant, Klaus. They're ours." Bonnie touched her stomach. Klaus pursed his lips at the motion, and his face twitched when vivid green irises flashed to stark gold. "You know what?" Bonnie answered her rhetorical question as if the truth had finally revealed itself. "Believe what you want. I came back because you deserved to know. Now you do." The last bit of hope vanished as Klaus looked at her as if she were a stranger. Bonnie didn't have any expectations about how things had ended. She was the one who suddenly that night without a word. Still, Bonnie stupidly believed this news would mean something more, not because of how unexpected their relationship turned. Bonnie convinced herself these precious gifts would matter more than anything.

"You came what you needed to do, Bon." The muscles in her face fell slack until her expression softened. Bonnie gently rubbed her stomach. Maybe it was her imagination, but the warm stirring in her abdomen was comforting. "You two are the only things that matter. I'll protect you, I promise." With that conviction, Bonnie squared her shoulders and pushed aside her negative emotions. Her lips curved into a genuine smile that triggered a frown from Klaus. "Goodbye, Klaus."

Klaus tensed, his gaze flitting over Bonnie's relaxing face. His exterior softened momentarily, but it was too late. Bonnie had already turned and headed for the entrance. Klaus ignored the beckon inside him, the primal part of his existence clawing under his flesh to break through and make the biggest mistake ever.

☽🔮☾

"Explain to me again, Niklaus," Elijah pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed the question through his teeth. "Why you would allow the mother of your unborn children to just up and leave."

"You're more insane for even entertaining this ridiculous farce." Klaus poured a glass of bourbon for himself and raised it to his lips, taking a long sip.

"It is no farce, brother," Elijah retorted, his voice firm. "It is a chance. The Bennetts value family as much as they do honesty. They wouldn't have come all this way to lie, not about something this extraordinary. You cannot ignore this."

Klaus slammed his glass on the table, causing the amber liquid to slosh over the sides. "You've been bewitched by Lucy again, I see. Don't you ever learn?"

Elijah sighed, shaking his head. "This is no spell. Cease holding onto your anger and hurt and open yourself to see this is a chance."

"What're you babbling about?" Klaus's eyes narrowed, his lips thinning into a hard line. The vigor with which Elijah talked about his unborn children aggravated Klaus. "They are not... not mine," the 'rational' side of his being thought. Yet it was the instinct tearing through that doubt. The vampire warred with the wolf, who seemed to have already won the internal battle of will. Still, Klaus had lived as a vampire for centuries longer than he walked this earth as a werewolf.

Elijah witnessed his brother's conflict playing out on his face. Klaus's True Hybrid face rose to the surface. His icy blue eyes flickered to a golden hue, and his breathing grew shallow and erratic. For a moment, Elijah was convinced Klaus's wolf had come victorious. He drew close and reached out to touch his shoulder. "This is a chance to start over and regain what we've lost, Niklaus. I will help and stand by you, brother, as I swore to you 1000 years ago."

Klaus moved his head. His yellow-hued glower slowly diminished after Elijah's noble soliloquy. Klaus raised his chin, and his vampire took control. "I've taken back my home and reclaimed my empire. No one dares to challenge me and quake with fear at the sound of my name. I have everything I need," He coldly spat. Klaus stood tall and stared into Elijah's eyes. "What can these children possibly offer me? Is it more power?"

"Family is power, Niklaus." Elijah tried to dispel his brother's paranoia. "I am not asking to forget or forgive what transpired between you and Bonnie," he said calmly. "But let it not influence your ego momentarily and think of these children. They deserve better than what was given to us by our parents. Do not follow their example. Remember how they came to despise and ruined us." Elijah remained firm. For some reason, the lack of light in his dark eyes made Klaus's skin crawl. This time, Elijah wasn't going to let it go. "These children are a gift. They are all that you have ever wanted. All that we have ever wanted. A family." Elijah offered Klaus comfort.

☽🔮☾

Lucy hit the brakes in a split second, and the car came to a screeching halt. Bonnie, who stared out her window, suddenly lurched forward from the sudden force. Frantically she clenched her seatbelt and cradled her stomach. Bonnie barely had time to register what had happened.

"Have you lost your damn mind!?" Lucy screeched from the driver's seat.

Bonnie raised her head to see Klaus standing in the middle of the road, his face stern as he approached the car. "We need to talk," he said, looking directly at the mother-to-be.

"I think we said all there is to each other," Bonnie answered in a clipped voice.

Klaus marched purposely to the passenger side and waited. He stared down at Bonnie through the window. Bonnie glowered at him. A mixture of anxiety and anger simmered through her, together with something more potent - a flicker of hope. Eventually, Bonnie took a deep breath, unclasped her seatbelt, and exited the car. She crossed her arms as if she had prepared beforehand to protect herself from Klaus's careless mouth.

Klaus spoke first, his voice surprisingly soft, "I allowed my anger to take charge."

Bonnie arched her brows. "Why the sudden change of heart?" She didn't know what to expect from him. Bonnie wouldn't entertain a dysfunctional relationship between them at the expense of her children—co-parenting or not.

Klaus glanced at Bonnie's stomach, his expression softening. "I felt them calling me when I touched you," he whispered. "I still do."

[violivs]

NMTDaily: We Are The Watch and The Game is Afoot(ball)

- Doing the first two Dogberry & Verges episodes in one post. They’re always the characters I care about the least in any version of Much Ado, but these two are so cute I can’t help but love them.

- I totally forgot their videos are all posted on Ursula’s Watch Projects channel! I definitely somehow developed the incorrect memory of them having their own channel because they have orange borders on their thumbnails and every other new thumbnail color so far has heralded a new channel.

- Someone in the comments called Dogberry & Verges “Sherlock and Brittany S. Pierce,” and I will never recover from the sheer brilliance of that call. Verges definitely has Brittany energy.

- They’re very cute, arguing about what kinds of cases they’ll take. Do we ever find out whose cat Tibbles is? I bet she’s Dogberry’s cat and she got out when he left the door open too long.

- The malapropisms and exaggerated speech are so perfect though. It takes skill to write (and act!) two characters who are so wrong in every big fancy word choice and yet so convinced they’re right, who take their detective work SO seriously even though no one else does. And making them two kids playing at a detective agency. What great adaptations of these characters from the play.

- I think we already got the famous line “my mom says I have to wear the suspenders to keep the Devil from infiltrating me” in Vox Pops if I’m not mistaken, but I forgot to talk about it. Do we think Verges’ mom is crazy religious so Verges hides out at Dogberry’s house to get away from her? I love their friendship but the idea of Verges feeling unsafe at home makes me sad.

- “We are The Watch. And we are Watching!” *staring awkwardly*

- The kazoo Sherlock theme!!!! I genuinely almost forgot about that. Comedy gold. I love it. And I love that D&v definitely recorded that together (with Ursula’s help). I was wondering whether the Kazoo player was Dogberry and then the accompaniment of the second kazoo started and I cracked up imagining Verges very seriously chiming in to play her part. On kazoo. Amazing.

- “The ginger nuts you will find in your bag are from us” Perfect unhinged yet thoughtful energy. I know this video description is addressed to Ursula, but I have a strange urge to check my own bag, as though D&v have reached across ten years and thousands of miles to somehow leave ME ginger nuts. Mysterious.

- Starting “The Game is Afoot(ball)” now. I love how many angles we get on this same scene at the game. Reminds me of a future scene we get multiple angles on, except that scene we get D&v scrambled footage first and are left to frantically piece together what’s happening…

- Okay, I had to pause the video to die a little at Verges saying “masturbation” instead of “mastication” when talking about the muffins. I cannot believe they snuck that in lol. I want to cover Verges’ ears even though she doesn’t know what she’s saying! Cringing so hard for her right now.

- “We are going to interview civilizations!” Love that line lol

- So the first game of the season is a rematch with the team Messina was forced to forfeit last year’s championship or whatever to because the fire alarm was mysteriously pulled. Wild how Dogberry & Verges are actually giving us Important Backstory here.

- “what does that have to do with soccer” GASP! Why did that girl say “soccer”? She’s not American! Huh??? (This may be copy editor brain wondering whether I try really hard to get terminology right in my fanfics for nothing…)

- Does Pedro/Peter know that John pulled the fire alarm? It seems like everyone else does. It makes you wonder why he’s so surprised that John hates him enough to do what he does later on. I guess he’s just in denial of how bad things really are between them.

- We get shown exactly how bad things are between the Donaldsons with Pedro’s snippy “HALF-brother” comment and the way he slaps the car keys into John’s hand in that little moment we see between them. All is not well in the house of Donaldson. And at this point, we only know that because of Dogberry and Verges’ videos. It’s amazing how everything is important in its own way in this show.

- Pedro must be so eager to publicly distance himself from John with the half-brother comment both because he begrudged John’s arrival making his family life tough for a while, but also because other kids at school think John’s weird and Pedro, however unconsciously, doesn’t want him to tarnish his image. At least he does seem to feel bad about the little tiff over the keys.

- You also have to feel for John, because Pedro making comments like that publicly means that the whole community knows all of John’s personal business and probably whispers about his parentage, and he knows that they all know. It has to be very lonely to be John. And Pedro is doing the opposite of making things easier for him. It all must have been hard on Pedro too, their family being so talked about, and he’s also just a kid, but it’s still a huge dick move on his part to treat John that way.

- “John owned up to it” says Claudio, so everyone does know, so Pedro must know that John sabotaged the game. He just doesn’t understand it as an act of sabotage against him specifically, which is clearly what it was. He picked the most important game of the season because it would hurt Pedro most to have ruined, more than any other game. (And Robbie helps John pull the fire alarm because *he*, Robbie, wants revenge against Claudio for ‘stealing’ his spot as goalie, so he ruins Claudio’s first ever game).

- Ooh Ben is walking away with the group and does not have his green uniform shirt with him, so he did leave it on the ground in front of Beatrice! Do we think she really took it home to give back to him at school? Or did it end up in the lost and found? Not that we ever see another game, but he would need it back. Oh, maybe Bea gave it to Leo to give back to Ben, without telling him who left it there so he and Hero wouldn’t have more ammo to tease her about Ben. Analyzing incredibly minor details is fun!

- I also adore that Benedick apparently named this video by making a “the game is afoot-ball” pun when talking to Dogberry and Verges. Interesting that there’s so little footage of Ben in this video- did they interview him in this scene at all? Or did he name the video when he and D&V were all over at Ursula’s house getting editing help with their new vlogs? Either way, love this random little Ben-related detail.

- Also, you hear a lot of Ben being described as all limbs, but watching him walk away in the background here? Jesus, the boy is TRULY all limbs. Look at him! Flailing around. Playing catch with Balth, establishing them as friends. I am… like, still ALARMINGLY obsessed with this character, my god. I was just trying to see if we could hear what the group walking away were saying, I swear, lol.

- The blond guy who was standing with Balthazar in Balth’s clip in this video: Surf-Lifesaving Tony? Other Tony? Damien???

- “Exit stage right!” “It’s left, you moron!” Adieu for now, readers!

💖🦩🥭

[moonstonedrawsrandomly]

Matriarch 17🟢

“SHAMURA!”

Gaia shrieked. Three blades pierced Shamura’s abdomen in front of Fernilla. Fernilla’s eyes were wide with horror. Heket is the first one to her. Mere seconds ago, her life was as good as harvested, but then, with whatever crown energy and strength they had, used their own body as a shield to protect her. Moses was stunned he couldn’t speak. But he wasn’t the only one.

Narinder didnt move after the three blades plunged into Shamura. Almost like he was just in the same amount of shock. Blood poured from their mouth but they still stood, defending Fernilla.

“Narinder…”

Narinder’s eyes, like when he was a child, lit up for some reason. He didnt know why, but there was a…familiarity to their voice.

“…I…I thought…if we raised you…with love and care…then…Klauneck’s prediction would be wrong…but I was a fool…the child of death…will always bring death to…everything he touches…”

Shamura coughs up more blood. Gaia dashed past Narinder to hold her partner. Heket was trying to hold Fernilla up but even HER body was buckling. Narinder hasnt moved yet.

“And yet…I believed…my precious child…could grow to be…a great leader…what a fool I was…..look what you did to your family…I was blinded by love…a love that you had…for no one but your greed…”

Shamura used Gaia for stability, their strength is waning. The blood loss was becoming too great, but not as great as the fervor pouring into Gaia’s veins as she holds her dying lover.

“I-“

You can see in their eyes, there was so much they wanted to say but their vision was becoming blurred and their language turning into mutters.

“I…loved…yo-“

They collapsed. Kallamar quickly came to heal him as Gaia left them in his care.

The others rushed to their elder sibling’s side. Gaia couldnt hear anything, just her own heartbeat in her ears.

“They are on death’s door. I hear their sou-“

BAM!

Gaia was able to shake off her fear and relinquish it into powerful mana that blew Narinder through several walls in the palace! It gave Noelle and Kallamar enough room to began to treat Shamura’s deep wound.

“They’re losing too much blood! We have to teleport them!”

“Where? Narinder is behind the walls! Nowhere is safe”

“Just take them to the clinic for now! We will bring you what you need!”

“What about Narinder?”

SLAM!

“He’s dead to us, help me! Sister, bring Fernilla”

“Of course!”

Heket, carries Fernilla bridal style as they all teleported. Gaia can handle this.

WHAM!

Narinder hits the back wall. Still in shock, Gaia grabbed him by his tail and swung him around, smashing his skull into the concrete. Narinder wanted to fight for real but there was something wrong…he’s fighting Gaia.

He talks a big game when it comes to his Mother Figure, but in reality, she is several levels above him, being able to turn pure fervor into Magic energy to release powerful blasts of magic. And it was coming from her eyes, mouth and nose but she wasn’t using it. Where is this strength and energy coming from?!?

“Gah, I must retreat! She’ll kill me this time!”

Despite being the God of death, without Ayn and Baal, he CANNOT 1v1 his mother. He doesnt even know if THEY would even help! He’s never seen his mother THIS mad before, he needed to retreat. He got that opportunity when Gaia yanked his tail and began to spin him at Mach speed. Narinder was thrown so high into the sky that no one would see where he went, so be teleported. She saw him leave, but she had different priorities right now. She teleported herself to her Lover.

“Shamura!”

“Gak!”

“Quick! Take them to the infirmary! Get ready for surgery! Noelle!”

Kallamar said. Noelle looked puzzled.

“Your coming with me, I might need those small hands of yours”

“Ah! Right!

He said as they teleported them to the Infirmary. Gaia’s fervor was dripping out of her eyes at an alarming rate. So much so, that one of her Children had to bring a bucket for her to drip into, several times until she calmed down. She was still in disbelief.

“Mom?”

Leshy said softly. She couldn’t believe that her own kin nearly killed her spouse…she only returned 3 hours ago and someone else was fighting for their lives. She thought back to when Klauneck cane to speak to them about the black cat they brought into their family. That same child she held close to her while Shamura spoke with Klauneck.

“…Despite the prophecy has atleast a good ending, He will definitey be the unraveling of your family even if the prophecy doesnt come true…”

“We will take our chances, hes a child…he can be raised well.”

Gaia punched the wall, remembering Shamura’s words. Why did she let Shamura keep him? Why did she bother pouring all that love and energy into that brat? Why did she let herself get sealed away for him? WHY DIDNT SHE KILL HIM WHEN SHE HAD THE CHANCE?!?

“Mom…please…”

Leshy begged. Klauneck was right…Narinder should’ve been sacrificed the moment he was brought into the family…he was an unlucky child…now her spouse is fighting for their life now.

“Shamura…shamura…”

Gaia weeped as the remaining bishop comforted their mother figure. Wherever Narinder is, he better be dead.

.

..

…

Its been a few days since the release of Gaia, Narinder and the near Death of Shamura. The whole Clan was in a standstill. Nothing moved, everyone was on edge, waiting news on their dear leader. Surgery went surprisingly well, with the help of Noelle, unfortunately for them, their injuries were deep and they were now in a deep sleep. To wake up when? Who knows at this point, people were just happy that Shamura still had a heartbeat.

“You did excellent in surgery, you too Noelle. I must discuss something with Kallamar right now, so go and rest Noelle”

Gaia said. Noelle took her weary body to her room while Kallamar and Gaia walked in the other direction.

“How are they?”

“No movement so far. Their wounds are deep but they should heal. Since they are in a coma, their body will need all the energy it can get. they will need a liquid diet to keep them alive and well, with around the clock care. It will be in their best interest to rest and heal…but how are you Mom?”

He asked. He noticed the dark circles under his mother’s eyes. Shes not doing well with any of this.

“Not great. I knew we were going to fight…but to attack Shamura? The only person who truly advanced and advocated for that boy…i dont care that Fernilla was his original target, he didn’t care…”

“Mom, your fervor!”

“Right…sorry…”

“No, your anger is justified… but for now, save your strength for when we fight again…”

Kallamar said as he wipes his mother’s face. She holds his hand that cleaned her face.

“My tender sweet boy…you treasure me…”

“Of course. As you did to me. You picked me, after all”

He said. Gaia sighs as Kallamar takes her arm gently.

“Lets get some rest, we will deal with him with a level head.”

“Right”

They both said as they walked towards their separate rooms. Gaia finnaly gets to the shared bedroom and she was hit with a strong nostalgia. Gaia remembering having her kids fight over who slept with her and who slept with Shamura, what story they read, what they wanted the chefs to make the kids for breakfast…it was too much for the time shes had so far. Each memory that hasnt been tainted by Narinder, was surprisingly preserved.

The sheets on the bed havent even been changed in all of those years, still showing their age.

“Shamura didn’t even change the sheets…I guess even they were holding onto those memories as well…”

She lays down and imagines her spouse, laying next to her, talking about what they were to do when they grow older, possible grandchildren, retiring and passing down the mantle to one of the kids, possibly Heket if she wants it, she is indeed the most responsible of the children. All this thinking, she didn’t even realize that she was dreaming already. And someone drapes the covers over her and silently leaves.

“Sleep well, Mom…we will get that bastard, I promise…”

TBC

[shiningstar-byulxx]

Second Choice No More

Kim Gyuvin X Female Reader ft Shen Ricky / Shen Quanrui

Genre - Angst / Royal au / Bridgeton au

Requested - No

Word Count - 797

Synopsis - Y/n had enough of being the second option. She changed but Gyuvin cannot accept the new situation that has occurred. Y/n decides her own path and fate with or without Gyuvin.

Mobile Masterlist Website Masterlist

©shiningstar-byulxx

Disclaimer - Please do note that this is work of fiction, and it does not reflect on the members personalities or how they are in real life.

・❥・♡・❥・♡・❥・♡・❥・♡・❥・♡・❥・♡・❥・♡・❥・♡・❥

𝐼𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐾𝑖𝑚'𝑠 𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑒

Two people can be heard from the young duke's study room, many maids were curious but knew not to over step the boundaries of the young duke and the lady conversation and went off to do their duties.

Y/n whose looking at Gyuvin who is looking out from his window and sighed then said with frustration emitted from her voice "Gyuvin, you cannot decide when you want to love me..."

Tears began to appear glistening from her shining eyes, but Y/n continued as she was replied with silence "You had all these years, and now I am tired of waiting for you... You could have escorted me to the ball, but you had refused my invitation and came with another!"

Letting out a breath and softly said "You cannot act like you love me now!..."

She sniffles "I have already decided to take the Crown Prince Ricky's hand in marriage, my parents has already approved of the marriage so does the majesties... the invitations of our wedding will be sent out soon and preparation has already begun."

With that Y/n stood up from the sofa and turns away from Gyuvin walking towards the door, but as she reaches for the door, Gyuivin grabs her wrist to stop her from leaving, but Y/n continues to look ahead refusing to look at Gyuvin.

Gyuvin who speaks with despair underlying in his voice "Y/n please rethink about it... about us! You know how much you mean to me!" But with a cold voice piercing through Gyuvin's ears Y/n replies, "Sorry does not work anymore Gyuvin, you have already made your choice and it was not me..." Y/n's voice breaks but continues "it was never me who is going to be your first choice... I cannot keep being your second choice when you were my first..."

Y/n turned around in which Gyuvin is faced with a tear-stained appearance from Y/n and she looked into his eyes and said "I am not going to be an option or a last-minute solution to your problems anymore... and frankly I believe I deserve worthy of love and Crown Prince Ricky has shown me his sincerity and love towards me..."

Y/n let out a breath "I fell in love with a man who truly cherishes me and loves me for the way I am. I am his first choice and his last love, and I tend to the same for him because I love him!"

Her eyes softens which showed Gyuvin she held deep love for her new lover.

Y/n takes her other hand and gently removes Gyuvin hand away from her wrist and said "Gyuvin, I am finally happy now so please do not make this any harder for me anymore" whilst giving him a weak smile and tears are flowing down her face.

Once again Y/n looks up towards Gyuvin with sincerity "Maybe in another life time, it could have been us but now let us be each other's first love who became strangers that were childhood friends".

This in turn made Y/n tears flow even more and Gyuvin tears rolls down his face.

Y/n quickly wipe her face with her handkerchief and proceeded to walk out through the doors of Gyuvin's studies to return home. But before leaving Y/n look back towards Gyuvin tear-stained face and curtsied whilst saying "It was a pleasure to meet you Young Duke Gyuvin" giving him a weak smile with glistening eyes.

Once again Y/n softly says, "goodbye Vinny" and walked out the door with Gyuvin's heart and love.

Gyuvin stood still with shock running through his body. He reminisces the late-night shenanigans they have been through, escaping from their studies and being each other's escorts to get their parents off their back about potential partners.

Remembering Y/n's smiling face whilst saying his name softly and lovingly in amides of the flower meadow where the escape from their strict classes.

Gyuvin just had realised that he really had lost his only love... He was too busy changing himself to fit his social circle with his friends that he forgot the person he was with since the beginning especially his first love, but now it is all in vain he lost his love who has already left him to be with someone who puts her first, unlike him who he had forgotten about her.

He always thought Y/n and him would always be with each other, but he never imagined she would ever leave him.

Hearing the trotting and plodding of the horses hooves and the carriage leaving the estate that is when he knew he has lost her.. he lost his first and last love... and it will be forever engrained in his mind for a long time, his tears cannot bring back his love.

・❥・♡・❥・♡・❥・♡・❥・♡・❥・♡・❥・♡・❥・♡・❥・♡・❥

Hello everyone, I hope you have enjoyed this imagine. I haven't written in a long time so I hope this was alright, sorry if its not perfect, but its practically imperfect to me haha. But let me know if I had made a mistake.

I actually wanted to make this a series of how it came to this scene, but I don't know if anyone will be interested in other parts of this story could lead to haha. I had this idea since a while before boys planet and I thought it would go nicely with the '04 line.

©shiningstar-byulxx; all my work is made by me, please don't copy, translate, repost and steal my work!

You're more than welcome to like, comment and reblog, Thank you! I hope everyone will have a lovely day!

[spinrekiyo]

My main Korekiyo Shinguji hcs:

Korekiyo Shinguji • they/them (though doesn’t mind any) • pansexual • acespec • autistic • they have a service dog named meadow

Kiyo’s service dog is a white labradoodle. Her name is Meadow. She is 3.5 years old. Her tasks are circling Korekiyo in a crowd, dpt when overstimulated, keeping people distanced from them, staying near them giving a sense of security, picking up items if needed, making Kiyo take meds consistently, and calming them when in panic attacks or meltdowns. She is a very good dog.

Kiyo adopted Meadow from a shelter at around 8 months old. Her past owner was not kind to her and abandoned her. Korekiyo was looking for a service dog and a new best friend, immediately connected with Meadow.

Kiyo named her Meadow because it is a peaceful kind name for a peaceful kind girl.

Kiyo works online with a service dog training course though does training themselves.

Meadow is well trained and wasn’t too strugglesome to teach tasks due to her timid and calm nature

The only problem is she was a bit scared at first though Kiyo has a tame job that isn’t super loud.

Kiyo is ambiamorous. I cannot choose a main ship for them because I believe all of them could have potential. (I believe I may have been the starter of the shinsaiibo movement soooo….)

Korekiyo has two long scars that run along their nose + a slight crook in their nose

They have pretty crooked teeth and a few noticeable gaps + pronounced canines

Straight up missing a tooth

They have sh/harmful stimming scars all over their arms

Very sharp looking smile. Their smile turns upwards and is very pointy and like a snake grin

They have ed tendencies though have a softer complexion nowadays

Their hair is pretty thick in texture though silky and soft

They have a few scars from uh.. her that are on their chest and back and such. They als have a few freckles

They eventually get cool tattoos

They have their bridge pierced and their eyebrow and ears pierced

They enjoy collecting bones, photography, writing stories, DND with the homies, and sleeping

They have POTS

In my head, the timeline for their life is as follows

- mother dies when Kiyo is 8 years old, likely of illness or addiction

- mother was absent, Miyadera was the main caregiver. She’s 6 years older than Kiyo.

- Kiyo had social difficulties growing up though was viewed as a gifted kid

- Miyadera was in and out of the hospital since she was eight with respiratory problems that are genetic on her mothers side.

- Miya always struggled with jealousy issues and problems with being too controlling.

- Miyadera passed away when Korekiyo was 16 and she was 22. She had been extremely sick 16-18, then her health seemed to get a lot better from 19-21, but then got bad again leading up to her death. She never became well enough to pursue full time schooling or work.

-The grieving process for Korekiyo was horrific to say the least. With their older sister being the only person in their life besides their father, they struggled horrifically with suicidal ideation, attempts, and not leaving their home or bedroom.

-they missed the entirety of 10th grade due to her death.

- at 17, korekiyo signed up for danganronpa after watching a few episodes. It wasn’t terrible and maybe they could not want to die

- yeah no, it didn’t help. They consented to being put into virtual reality that felt completely real though it was still legally challenged afterwards for obviously unsafe practices and the fact that mostly minors without the ability to fully grasp what they were signing up for were the ones consenting to that.

- following the events of the game, those who watched it obviously had complaints and concerns with many of the people on the show. Korekiyos ‘sister’ plot was literally just ptsd being played for gags + Kiyo’s mind having the serial killer motive for game purposes. Kiyo never killed anyone they just thought they did.

- local authorities were noted on the situation with Kiyo and many others. They were sent to a psychiatric facility to help them recover to a point where they could be trusted to live a daily life without hurting themselves or others.

-during their treatment Kiyo cut their hair really short while in an episode

- some took longer than others..

- by the time Korekiyo is out of the facility they are 18 and are given financial compensation by team DR for the added psychological damage + exploitation

-they finished 11th and 12th grade

- they then finish and graduate highschool using an online program and getting any other credits they need through their university (they cannot do a public big graduation ceremony at this time)

-cue dysphoric breakdown + gender sexuality realization

- they begin university, specializing in anthropology. They are taking art history and such, where they rediscover Angie. At first that is a horrific ordeal though it quickly becomes pleasant as she has changed a lot and so have they.

- they have an impressive breakdown at school because they’re overstimulated and triggered and anxious which makes them take a week off

- after that week, their therapist suggests that they seek out a service dog as she thinks it will help with their autism and ptsd

- cue meadow adoption

-Kiyo feels a lot better after that because meadow helped level out their nightmares and soothe them a lot more

- Kiyo gets a job as an educator at the local museum near their university

- meadow and Kiyo get name tags it’s great