#fourteen sacrifices (ask);;

[asterius-of-crete]

If you were to compare Merrick now to when she first arrived in Knossos, the differences would be astonishing. No longer timid and nervous, she's genuinely... happy. Happier than she ever could have imagined being in this situation. An arranged marriage to a powerful Minotaur God, Asterius, who she grew more fond of each day. He was kind, and he took care of her, and she never went without anything. A group of sisters she loved dearly. A family... something she thought she would never have again.

But with all of that, she still wanted to make sure of something.

"Have I been a good wife?" Merrick asks suddenly yet softly. They have retired to their bed chambers for the evening, Asterius sitting in his chair, and Merrick sitting in her favorite spot: his lap. She's staring at her hand as it rubs along his chest, feeling bashful suddenly. "I've been... very happy here with you. I hope I've made you feel the same way."

@merrick-of-violet

Life in in Knossos progressed as it always had, and as it always would. Slowly, peacefully, with the occasional distraction from reality dropping in for a few days.

Of course, now the King has more to focus on than just maintaining his realm.

He has a queen, a wife, whom he treasures, and to whom he has certain responsibilities. The whole point of their union had been to teach Merrick some of the ancient magic he possessed, after all. Not all, of course: that would make his dear aunt and her mentor quite upset.

They had tackled pronunciation first, because the incantations really did not enjoy being spoken in any other language than the original. And nobody wanted magic growing wild and out of control because of the difference between k and kh.

On a more personal level, the King was also pleased. Merrick was very gentle, and had fit into the court without any friction. She was also fair, beautiful, alluring. She had an enthusiasm to her that most others did not, and it was refreshing.

His wife's question makes him blink, and he looks down at her. Asterius, in general, moves slowly, massive body taking longer than a human's to respond. "You surprise me," he tells Merrick in his deep voice, but he seems pleased at this. After a few millennia, surprises are fairly welcome. "Have I given you reason to doubt you're not a good wife, dearest?"

He snorts softly and one of his hands comes up to stroke Merrick's back. He's not sure how to respond, honestly. Being happy is not something he's ever considered. Emotions are... different for him, in an entirely inhuman way.

"You please me," the King settles for saying. "I find no fault in you, my wife. Please take this as the reassurance it is."

[slu7formen]

I heard you were sad about the lack of Luke asks, so l've decided to try and help! Bare with me bc this might not be the best considering I'm think on the spot and its late over here so feel free to delete!

So, reader was with Luke when he was running away with Annie and Thalia so they're really close. Then, when her and Luke were like 16 or smth reader left on a quest and its been like 2 years so its assumed that she just failed and died on her quest. This ruined Luke bc he loved her and one night, maybe at the bonfire, he hears reader screaming his name somewhere in the foresty part of camp, just absolutely terrified. He finds her and shes hurt, I'm talkin reallyyy messed up like a massive gash across her eye, (matching scar awww) leavin her like half blind, huge claw marks, teeth marks, and other wounds. He carries her to the infirmary, shes prob passed out at this point from like blood loss. Anyways, she finally wakes up in the infirmary and a bunch of fluff ensues, yk the usual "Don't ever leave me again" "I thought you were dead" the fun stuff and obv they confess to each other! (also, is 🖤 taken?)

whoever made this request, it was so good, you’re evil and brilliant; thank you 🖤

MDNI. luke castellan x fem!reader

warnings: wounds, injuries, blood mention, presumed death, luke being heartbroken (sorry), crying

reminder: english's not my first language so l apologize for any spelling mistakes

₊˚⊹♡

Every morning, Luke woke with the same dull ache in his chest, a constant reminder of the gaping hole your absence had left in him. It was a hollow ache, a physical manifestation of the loneliness that had become his unwelcome company. Nine years old when he ran away, the world had been a harsh teacher, but three years later, when he found you, that harshness had softened, replaced by a fierce protectiveness. You, a scared, twelve-year-old with defiance blazing in your eyes and a meager weapon in hand, had become his anchor in the storm.

The streets had been a cruel way of living, but together, you and Luke had forged a bond stronger than steel. You were the same age, yet he was older by a few months, a difference that somehow granted him a silent responsibility for your safety. Thalia and Annabeth, two more lost souls swept up in the world of their demigod destinies, completed their unbalanced family. But it was you and Luke, the two eldest, who shared a silent language of understanding that went beyond words. You fought together, scavenged together, your backs against the world.

The arrival of Grover, a satyr reeking of panic, brought relief and a terrifying truth— you weren't alone. The hunt for demigods was real, and you were all in danger.

Fourteen. A year etched in his memory with the sharp point of a spear. The monsters, the desperate fight, Thalias selfless sacrifice, the agonizing transformation into the pine tree — the events played on a loop in his mind. Camp Half-Blood, once a beacon of hope, now felt like a bittersweet prison. He had you by his side then, a hand to grip in the darkness, a silent understanding in your shared gaze.

It wasn't supposed to be this way. You were supposed to be there, by his side, facing challenges and forging a future together. He replayed the memory of your first quest announcement on a loop. The fear in his gut, a slap in the face of his fierce protectiveness. He wasn't supposed to lose you.

It wasn't fair. It shouldn't have been you, alone, facing whatever monstrous fate had befallen you. A bitter taste filled his mouth as he replayed the day you left. The forced cheer, the worry that gnawed at him, all a blur now. Training became a way to numb the ache, each swing of his sword carrying a silent plea for your sate return. But as days turned into months, the hope that had fueled him began to fade away.

News traveled slow in the demigod world, but eventually, rumors reached Camp Half-Blood. Whispers of a monstrous encounter, a lost trail, a silence that stretched too long. A year after your departure, the whispers solidified into a grim reality - you were missing, presumed dead.

Luke felt the world tilt on its axis. Denial battled with a cold, horrifying truth. You were gone.

A quest, a single solitary mission, had stolen you from him. Stolen your laughter, your warmth, your presence that had become an essential part of his world. It wasn't fair.

The quest for the Golden Apple had been a cruel twist of fate. A desperate attempt to appease his father, to offer a sliver of hope to a camp drowning in sadness, it had backfired spectacularly. Luke returned empty-handed, his body wracked with exhaustion and his spirit battered. But the most visible reminder of his failure was the jagged scar that ran from beneath his eye down to his chin, a pale testament to the dragon's fury.

He'd needed your presence then more than ever. Needed your steady gaze and the quiet strength you possessed. Needed the spark of defiance in your eyes that mirrored his own growing anger towards a world that had seemed so determined to tear them apart. He needed your touch, your hugs, he needed you.

He stood stiffly before your burial shroud, an image carved in his memory forever. Tears streamed down his face, hot and unchecked. He ignored the concerned glances of his friends, focusing only on the phantom warmth of your hand in his, a memory more vivid than anything else.

In that moment, ravaged by grief, a single truth burned bright — he loved you. And he had lost you. The world felt a little emptier, a little colder, without you by his side.

And the first nights after you left were the worst.

At first, they were hopeful visions. He'd see you, alone on a dusty road, tending to a nasty gash on your arm with a makeshift bandage. A surge of worry would course through him, a familiar anxiety honed by years on the streets. But then, a wry smile would tug at his lips as he remembered the countless times he'd taught you how to create a tourniquet, how to patch a wound and survive on the bare minimum. A flicker of confidence, a belief in your resourcefulness, would chase away the initial fear. He just knew you'd find a way back to him.

He'd wake with a jolt, his hand instinctively reaching for the empty space beside him. The sheets were cold, the air thick with the silence of your absence. But then, a flicker of hope would ignite— you were alive, you were out there.

Finally, the dreams turned into nightmares. You'd appear, but not the way he remembered you. Pale and gaunt, your eyes hollow and vacant. Sometimes, you'd be chased by monstrous shadows, their grotesque forms dissolving into a chilling whisper of your name. These dreams left him gasping for breath, his heart hammering against his ribs.

It had been a little over a year since the agonizing ceremony, the image of your burial shroud seared into his memory. But time, a supposed healer, offered no solace. In reality, it had stretched the fact of your absence even wider. Two years. Two years since he'd last seen your smile, heard your voice, felt the warmth of your hand in his.

"Luke!"

Ah, yes. He heard you sometimes. At first, it happened while he was alone; he believed it could be you, trying to contact him in some way, but it never was that way. He never found you. Then he started hearing your voice in crowded places, mistaking your voice for the ones of other campers, and his heart ached every time he realized it wasn't you.

He felt like he was going insane. Hearing you, even after years. He must be going mad. But then, it became clearer.

"Luke!"

The voice, barely audible above the crackling flames, cut through his thoughts like a knife. He froze, his hand tightening around the thin stick that held his burned marshmallow. Was it-? No. It couldn't be. He must be imagining things again.

The grief, the pain, he knew, could play tricks on the mind.

He brushed it off, attempting to rejoin the conversation, forcing a lightness to his voice that felt hollow. But then, it came again. Clearer this time, tinged with a desperate urgency.

"Luke!? Luke!"

The single word, laden with a desperate urgency, pierced through his defenses. He froze, his blood turning to ice. It was your voice. The same voice that filled his dreams and haunted his waking hours. He whipped his head around, searching the darkened forest beyond the fire's reach.

But the trees stood silent, their branches swaying gently in the night breeze. Nothing. Yet, the echo of your voice lingered in the air, a chilling reminder of the impossible. His heart pounded in his chest, a frantic drum against his ribs.

He glanced around the fire, catching the bewildered expressions of a few campers who had clearly heard the voice too. Their eyes mirrored the confusion and fear that clawed at him. If he said anything, they'd think he'd cracked, that the pain had finally driven him mad.

"Luke!"

But it was you.

Your voice, unmistakable and undeniably real. A wave of disbelief washed over him, followed by a surge of hope so intense it threatened to suffocate him.

He scrambled to his feet, ignoring the surprised yelps of his friends as he knocked over a tray of steaming hot cocoa cups. Stumbling over his own feet, he charged towards the edge of the forest, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs.

He skidded to a halt just inside the treeline, his eyes scanning the darkness. "yn!?" he called out, his voice hoarse with a mixture of fear and desperate hope. The only reply was the rustling of leaves in the night breeze.

It was cloaked in darkness, making it impossible to discern any details. But there was a smallness, a fragility to its silhouette that resonated with his memory of you.

Just as doubt began to creep back in, another call pierced the silence. "Luke!" This time, the desperation in your voice was unmistakable.

He didn't hesitate any longer. "yn!" he roared, his voice raw with emotion as he launched himself into a run.

Several campers, roused by the commotion, scrambled to their feet, their eyes wide with confusion and trepidation. They watched, mouths agape, as Luke bolted towards the treeline, his long strides eating away at the distance.

"Luke!" Your voice came again, closer this time, tinged with a note of panic.

"yn!" He didn't dare slow down, his heart making its way up to his mouth. He could hear the sound of others following him, their footsteps pounding on the soft earth behind him.

Through the dense foliage, he caught a glimpse of your figure — small, hunched over, moving with a limp. Hope flared bright within him, battling the tide of fear that threatened to drown him.

Then, you stumbled, nearly falling. He redoubled his efforts, pushing himself to the limit. As he broke through the last line of trees, he saw you standing there, bathed in the pale moonlight.

And his breath hitched in his throat.

The sight of you, once vibrant and full of life, was a punch to the gut. Dirt and grime smeared your face, your clothes were ripped and tattered, and a sheen of sweat covered your brow. But it was the wounds that stole his breath away. Deep claw marks raked across your arms, a bloody gash marred your leg, and the most horrifying of all — a massive scar stretched across your eye, a brutal reminder of some unseen battle. The campers behind him gasped in unison, their faces etched with shock and horror.

Chiron, alerted by the commotion, pushed his way through the crowd, his brow furrowed in concern.

But your focus was solely on Luke. With a desperate cry of his name, you lurched towards him, your injured leg buckling beneath you. Without hesitation, Luke launched himself forward, catching you in his arms just before you hit the ground.

"Luke..." you whispered, your voice barely a breath. Your eyes, the one that wasn't obscured by the wound, flickered with a spark of relief and a hint of something else - a deep, unspoken emotion that mirrored his own.

Then, your eyelids fluttered closed, and your body went limp in his arms. Panic surged through him as he cradled you closer, his voice hoarse with a mixture of fear and relief. " yn? No, no, no, no, yn?" he slightly slapped your cheek, no response. He looked back to to the campers that decided to follow him, his voice cracking with desperation. "Get the Apollo cabin, now!"

The days that followed your arrival were shrouded in a suffocating silence. The once vibrant camp seemed to echo with a collective held breath. No one dared to talk to Luke.

His eyes, once playful and sparkly, now held a deep, smoldering anger. He snapped at anyone who dared to approach. Only Chiron, with his patient wisdom, Annabeth, with her loyalty, and the healers of Apollo cabin, sworn to secrecy about your condition, were able to pierce the storm raging within him.

Each day, a relentless routine unfolded. Luke would rise with the first rays of dawn, his body heavy with the weight of his own despair. He'd force down a meager breakfast, the taste turning to ash in his mouth. Then, with a heart that felt like a lead weight in his chest, he'd make the agonizing trek to the Big House, the temporary haven where you resided. He would do it multiple times a day, actually.

Lee, the son of Apollo with a mop of messy blonde hair and eyes that held a touch of empathy, would greet him at the door, a practiced neutrality masking his concern. The answer was always the same. You were alive. The healers had managed to stabilize you. But your recovery was a slow, painful journey. The wounds you bore were a testament to a harrowing pain, and the care they had taken on your body was immense.

As soon as you had fainted in his arms, you had slipped into unconsciousness. No amount of coaxing, no whispered pleas from the healers, or songs in Ancient Greek, could bring you back. Luke was devastated. The relief of having you back, a physical presence after two agonizing years, was a fragile flame quickly extinguished by the reality of your condition. Your life hung by a thread, and he was kept at arm's length.

One particularly bleak afternoon, Luke found himself face-to-face with Chiron. The old centaur, his kind eyes reflecting the turmoil swirling within Luke, gestured for him to sit.

"Luke," Chiron began, his voice soft yet firm, "I understand your pain. Your worry for yn is valid and understandable. But you must also understand, her condition is delicate"

Luke clenched his fists, his jaw tightening with suppressed anger. "Why can't I see her? Annabeth's younger than me and yet, she gets to see her. Why not me?" The words tumbled out, laced with a raw desperation.

Chiron sighed, a weary sound. "Because, Luke," he said, his voice heavy with empathy, "we fear the emotional toll it might take on you if-, if the worst were to happen."

He slumped in his chair, defeated. Grief, anger, and a gnawing helplessness battled within him.

"How long then?" he rasped, his voice barely a whisper. "How long will it be before I can see her again?"

Chiron reached out, placing a comforting hand on Luke's shoulder. "We don't know, Luke" he said honestly. "But the healers are doing their best And you need to find your strength. She will need it when she wakes up”

He nodded dumbly, understanding Chiron's concern for him. But that didn't make the gnawing ache in his chest any less agonizing. He missed you. Missed the warmth of your hand in his, the light that sparkled in your eyes, the way your laughter could chase away even the darkest shadows.

A few days later, he walked by the Big House again. Lee greeted him again, just as every other day.

"How is she?" Luke asked.

Lee sighed, a gust of exasperation tinged with sympathy. He looked tired himself, dark circles under his eye and a large cup of coffee in his hand. "Little change. But she's stable. Stronger than she looks. We had some healers fainting because of how much singing they've done to her"

A muscle ticked in Luke's jaw. "Can't I at least see her?" The words came out harsher than he intended, dripping with frustration.

Lee studied him for a long moment, his own blue eyes reflecting the turmoil within Luke. Finally, he spoke. "Look, I get it. You're scared, you're angry. But you have to understand, seeing her like this... we can't let you"

Luke clenched his fists. "I can handle it" he growled, the beast within him straining against its leash.

Lee took a step closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "Can you, Luke? Can you handle the possibility that maybe she doesn't get to wake up?"

The question hung in the air, a brutal truth that stripped away Luke's bravado. He stared at Lee, the anger draining away, replaced by a raw vulnerability that surprised even him. He swallowed hard, the lump in his throat suddenly making it hard to breathe.

"No" he whispered, the single word a confession of his deepest fear.

Lee nodded, a flicker of understanding softening his features. "Then trust us, Luke. Trust the healers. We're doing everything we can."

And then he remember Chiron's words. He knew he was right. He couldn't bear the thought of the last image of you being one of unconsciousness, a pale specter in a sterile infirmary bed.

The days that followed settled into a grim routine. Luke stopped asking the relentless question, 'Did she wake up?' The answer, etched into his weary soul, was a constant ache that no words could soothe. He had stopped arguing, the initial burst of rebellion replaced by a quiet desperation. He started asking more specific questions, focusing on the details of your injuries. Your eye, the massive gash that mirrored his own scar in a way that made his stomach churn, became a particular point of morbid fascination.

He couldn't bear to look at the jagged mark on his face, couldn't imagine how it felt on yours.

Not because he thought you wouldn't be beautiful —he knew you would be. But the thought of you facing the same constant reminder of pain, of vulnerability, filled him with a protective rage that simmered beneath the surtace.

But then, a shift began to occur. He noticed stolen glances exchanged between the Apollo campers, hushed whispers that died down as soon as he entered their vicinity. An unspoken secret they guarded fiercely. He tried to ignore it, burying himself in training, seeking solace in the familiar sting of sweat and exertion. Chiron's words were a constant drumbeat in his head - seeing you too soon, on the precipice of death, was a burden he might not bear.

But later that day, as the sun dipped below the horizon casting the camp in an orange glow, Chiron sought him out. Luke braced himself, his heart plummeting into his stomach. His mind spun with a thousand morbid possibilities.

He met Chiron's gaze, a storm brewing in his own eyes. "What is it?" he rasped, voice breaking.

Chiron took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto Luke's with a solemn intensity. "Luke," he began, his voice thick with a mix of trepidation and hope, "she's awake."

The world seemed to tilt on its axis again. The air whooshed out of Luke's lungs, leaving him breathless. For a moment, he could only stare, his mind struggling to process the simple, life-altering statement.

Then he ran.

His feet pounded a trantic rhythm against the dusty path, each step fueled by a desperate need to see you. Chiron's protests, if there were any, were lost in the roar of blood rushing in his ears. He wouldn't be denied this. Not now. His legs pumped like pistons, fueled by a desperate hope that threatened to shatter him if it turned out to be false. He burst through the doors of the Big House, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste. The interior was deserted, the silence amplifying the frantic pounding of his heart.

He flung open the infirmary door, the sight inside momentarily stealing his breath. Two Apollo campers stood by the window, their hushed whispers abruptly cut short by his arrival.

But his eyes were locked on you, the very image of him defying the cruelty of fate.

You sat on the bed, a fragile silhouette bathed in the pale light, your head bent over your bandaged hands. Your hair, once a fiery mane, had grown longer, a testament to the time that had passed for him in a blur of grief. Your skin, usually kissed by the sun, was a pale canvas.

He took everything in — the fresh cuts marring your arms, the claw marks, the way your shoulders slumped with exhaustion. And you had lifted your head, startled by the sudden noise.

Your eyes, usually sparkling with life, were dull with pain, but when they met his, a spark ignited within them.

"Luke!"

The word ripped from your throat, a cry that echoed with relief and a tremor of something deeper. You lunged off the bed, ignoring the wince that contorted your face as your injured leg protested.

"yn, wait!" Lee sprang forward, concern etched on his face. Your stitches, particularly those on your thigh, were still fresh, and any sudden movement could cause them to tear.

But you didn't listen. You threw yourself at Luke, your arms wrapping around him with a desperation that mirrored his own. He caught you, the impact sending a jolt through his body. His arms tightened around you, a desperate need to hold on, to feel you solid against him.

He held you tight, the fierce possessiveness in his grip both a comfort and a warning. Your body, the way you fit so perfectly against his larger frame, sent a jolt through him. He'd grown, you realized, his broad shoulders feeling wider, his embrace stronger. In contrast, you felt impossibly small, the warrior you remembered replaced by a shell of the person you once were. His hot tears quickly started to wet your hair.

The sudden weakness in your leg, the one that had been screaming in protest since you lunged at him, finally overwhelmed you. A sharp cry escaped your lips as your body gave way beneath you. Instinctively, Luke tightened his grip, his arms morphing into a cradle to catch your fall.

The impact with the floor sent a fresh wave of pain shooting through you, but it was a dull ache compared to the overwhelming joy of finally being in his arms again. You clung to him, your fingers digging into his back, burying your face in the crook of his neck. Luke wouldn't stop sobbing now, his shoulder shaking as his arms held you into his embrace.

The Apollo campers, sensing the intimacy of the moment, mumbled apologies as they slipped out of the infirmary, leaving you and Luke alone.

He cradled you close, the scent of your hair and the warmth of your body a balm to his battered soul. He buried his face in your hair, inhaling the familiar fragrance that had haunted his dreams for so long. It was real. You were real.

"You're alive" he sobbed, the words a broken mantra against your ear. "You're alive" he repeated. Each repetition wasn't just for you, but for him, a desperate attempt to convince himself that this wasn't a cruel dream, that you weren't an illusion.

He pulled back slightly, cupping your face in his hand, his thumb gently tracing the line of your jaw. The wounds looked clean now, stitched and bandaged, but the raw pain was etched in the lines around your eyes. The gash across your eye, a crimson scar angry and fresh, pulled at the corner of your eye, making it appear swollen and bruised. Yet, to him, you were the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen.

It started a finger's width above your eyebrow, then, just as abruptly, it dipped down, catching the outer corner of your eye. The scar tissue pulled the delicate skin, making your eye appear slightly narrowed and bloodshot.

But despite the rawness of the wound, despite the vulnerability etched on your face, there was something undeniably fierce about you. It was a look he hadn't seen before, a look born from surviving the unthinkable.

Tears welled up in your eyes again, blurring your vision. You had always been beautiful, that much was undeniable. But now, even with a scar contrasting against your features, you were breathtaking.

He didn't mean to say it out loud, but the words tumbled from his lips before he could stop them.

"You look beautiful" he breathed, his voice thick with emotion.

His words sent a shiver down your spine. You leaned into his touch, seeking solace in the warmth of his hand. "It hurts" you whispered, a tear tracing a path down your cheek.

"I know" he murmured, his voice filled with empathy. He sniffed uncontrollably at your sight, so broken and fragile, wrapped around his arm. "But you're alive. You're here" his bottom lip started trembling before he could control it. He inhaled sharply and his voice came out shaky; "I thought you were dead" tears rolling down his cheeks.

You laughed, a weak sound that was more like a sob. "You won't get rid of me that easily"

He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours, his breath warm on your skin. In that moment, the infirmary with its sterile smell and harsh light faded away. All that existed was the feel of you in his arms, the warmth of your body against his, and the knowledge that you were alive.

"Don't ever leave me again" he pleaded, his voice thick with a mix of relief and terror. The thought of losing you again, of facing another agonizing day without you, was almost unbearable.

"I wouldn't dream of it" you whispered.

[ficmenrhot]

Finnick’s trauma and comforting him:( /angst/

TW: mentions of forced prostitution and description of some gore and violence, a little bit of self hatred, talking about traumatic events

A/N: to all those survivors and victims of traumatic events, I’m proud of you…and this is a reminder that your loved ones are always willing to listen. Also, this is quite long so buckle up!

————————————

I think it is pretty much common knowledge that Finnick Odair has some deep trauma from his time in the games and past. Although most victors of the Hunger Games suffered the same fate, Finnick was caught in Snow’s grasp too young..too vulnerable. He was forced to participate in the 65th Hunger Games at only 14-to kill others for survival- and when he won, thinking that all the suffering would be over then, he was threatened to become a prostitute at 16, otherwise his loved ones would be slaughtered- in which they did.

Finnick tries so hard to put on a facade in front of the Capitol- when he attends shows and interviews- and he does an amazing job at that. He tries so, so hard to remain strong for you too…to try and convince you that he really is alright by lying that his past no longer haunts him. He wants to assure you that he is stable because he is afraid of becoming a burden to you, afraid to be pushed away or feared by you because of his ‘problems’. The last thing he needs is to have the last person he loves vanish from his life.

However, at times, the stresses and memories just come flooding back to him and he finds himself breaking down.

Sometimes at night, you’ll be awoken by the soft sobs of Finnick crying, and seeing him in that state just absolutely destroys you…as if a thousand knives to your heart.

His back is facing you to avoid having you see his teary face, quietly sniffing into a pillow in his arm. He looks so vulnerable…almost like he’s fourteen all over again, and your heart throbs at the sight of your love- usually so big and strong- breaking down into pieces.

“…F-Finnick, my love?” You whisper ever so softly, sitting up against the headboard as you place a your much smaller hand on his shoulder.

Finnick turns at you, his eyes red and tears welling up at his waterline, long lashes wet and cheeks a little flushed from crying. He blinks, wiping away his tears, voice raspy as he says apologetically,

“Honey….I’m so sorry I woke you up.”

This man. He’s breaking down and he is so selfless that he apologises to you for experiencing valid emotions?!

“Oh Finnick, why are you apologising? It’s not your fault..you know it never is. Was it the nightmares again?” you ask gently with sympathetic eyes.

You have no idea what Finnick had to go through in the Hunger Games or any idea of what it is like to have your body sold but whatever it feels like, you know it must be terrible…so painful and terrible for somebody as strong as Finnick to be shattered. And you wouldn’t even have to think for a second to do anything at all -to kill or to sacrifice your own safety- just to share half of Finnick’s pain….to lift the weighs off his shoulders.

“My love, would you like me to hold you?” It is the least you can offer.

Finnick sniffs quietly and nod, moving closer to you to lay on your chest. Your fingers delve into his golden curls, playing with his hair as it is one of your favourite ways to calm him down. The two of you find peace in the silence before you ask softly:

“Would you like to share what happened, Finnick? Or we can talk about it when you feel better and just cuddle back to sleep…whatever you’re comfortable with, my love.”

Finnick is quiet for a few moments before he blinks and rubs at his wet lashes, “..it was…it was another nightmare. I had to kill the last tribute…a young girl from district 11. She was only a few years older than me…forced into the Games too…and I had to k-kill her to win…” His voice cracks as a tear rolls down his cheeks, and you wipe it away with your thumb, nodding as you listen attentively.

“It was terrible…the look on her face when I stabbed her with my trident…I can still remember her shrill screams, the look of betrayal on her face…the way her body thudded to the ground with blood soaking up her wetsuit.” Finnick begins to sob once more.

“Shhh..shhh” you coo, stroking Finnick’s cheeks as you attempt to comfort him.

Finnick shakes his head, breath hitched and uneven as he sobs in your hands, and the heartache of seeing him like this nearly eats you alive.

“I…I’m disgusting…I feel impure….and with what Snow did to me…”

“…the things he made me do…I feel disgusting....”

Prostitution is something you know of Finnick’s past, but it is a topic he has never really opened up on until this moment. You never forced him or questioned him about it because you know it is an event of great trauma to him.

You can only stroke Finnick’s hair to sooth him and hold him tightly in support as he continues, feeling both sympathy and proudness that he is able to open up about this topic.

“No matter how much I try to wash myself, to scrub my skin and submerge myself in soap, I can still smell the sickening scent of Capitol perfumes. Sometimes…I feel sorry that I can’t be a better partner for you sweetheart……and I’m so afraid that you’ll leave me or regret me or feel shameful of me.”

You cup Finnick’s face for him to look at you and there are a thousand emotions visible in your eyes as you speak.

“Are you kidding, Finnick? Look me in the eye when I tell you that I will never regret loving you or feel ashamed of you. I’m so proud to have you as my partner, as my lover, so proud of how strong you are…how strong you remain after the terrible things you had to go through.”

“In fact, my love, I look up to you. You’re my role model Finnick, and if I were in your shoes, I would not be able to handle things half as well as you do. You are kind, amazing, beautiful and definitely not disgusting. Trust me when I say that that is the last thing you’ll ever be. Besides, it wasn’t your choice to kill that tribute, anyone would’ve done the same.”

And with that, his sea green eyes softens, and that smile you’re familiar with finally appears on his face. Dimples when he smiles. You press a soft kiss on his forehead and stroke his hair as the two of you hold each other sleepily, slowly dozing off to a deep slumber. The last words you mutter being:

“I love you, my love.”

“I love you more, honey. And thank you….really.”

——————————————————————

A/N: AHHHH! tell me why I almost cried writing this?! This is my first angst and I think the lost piece I’ve written by far (on this new account). Please like or reblog if you enjoyed this, and follows are most definitely appreciated ;)

[threepandas]

Bad End: Kept Safe

[Art by Miu_A]

You ever give someone advice, knowing full well they aren't going to take it? Even AFTER they have begged and pleaded and WHINED at you, for hours, for it? Even after they poured their heart and soul out to you? And you, a good friend, carefully and tactfully, tried your best to help? LIKE THEY ASKED?

Ever find yourself the designated "run too dramatically weep in the arms off" friend?

I have.

It is hell. I am in hell.

This is my punishment for all those hours I spent reading and playing Otome Isekai junk instead of, I don't know, solving world hunger or something. Because it HAS to be. I am clearly being punished. Repeatedly. By some sort of petty, petty, anime God.

Fuck you too, buddy.

A fresh round of highly dramatic Protagonist sobbing peirces the air. Dear lord, she has a set of lungs on her, does she? It's like an air siren. But more... upset toddler. It was bizarre. I'd LIKED her as a character. I HAD. Bright and cheerful, determined with a good heart. She'd been a bit naive, yes, but she'd grown. Love had changed her for the better.

But THIS?

This was some middle school "he threw away my secret note, that I didn't sign, so that means he HATES MEEEEE~" bullshit. It went on and on and ON! God, it'd been MONTHS! Years!

I made friends with the Protagonist when we were in The Royal Academy. The story's setting. It SHOULD have finished by graduation. SHOULD. HAVE. But DID it? No! This nonsense had spilled into the COURT! The general population! Actual political factions were starting to get involved!

All because my "friend" COULDN'T PICK A MAN.

And she didn't listen. I tried. God, how I TRIED! No matter HOW I phrased "just fucking TALK to them" it didn't get through her dense fucking skull. I tried taking a break. To calm down. She HUNTED ME DOWN with her little Harem of political trainwrecks!

That poor port city STILL has yet to recover from the chaos they unleashed.

I don't... God, I don't even LIKE her anymore. I've just been reduced to her HANDLER. Forced into girlish tea parties devoid of any taste, because no one ELSE will come. Followed by winces and pitying looks by every lady in all of polite society. The sacrifice to keep HER distracted, lest her gaurd dogs decide its a good idea to do something unhinged again.

It's exhausting.

I'm not even listening.

She seems to have worked through her usual cycle of "cry, mope, what about meeeee~, then I going to go be Plucky at them! Tee Hee~♡!". Good, good. You go have fun, you little train wreck. I'm going to go find an actual ADULT to hide behind.

I have my maids change me out of an outfit that, frankly? I am too old for. I am not sixteen. We are not GIRLS, for the heaven's sake. We are WOMEN. It was a cute outfit. I enjoyed wearing it, back when I was physically young enough that it was appropriate. But even THEN... that's the down side of the whole "isekai" thing.

You keep your mental age.

Everyone around you? INFANTS. Fresh faced babies. You are being flirted with by fourteen year olds and? It is DISGUSTING. They can never be anything more then "cute kids" to you. The characters you once thirsted over? Reduced to actual, living, breathing, pre-schoolers.

There's no going back after that. I'll NEVER unsee it. Can only continue to age, even as they simply... grow up. And then? When they started behaving like FOUR YEAR OLDS? Forget it! I'm beginning to share my parents fears I may die single.

At least I have a refuge. A place of SANITY and SENSE.

I grab the imported wine I had purchased. I'd noticed him drink it before on special occasions. Found a tea seller that was willing to also bring some back. Mother LOVED the tea and my friend was going to love the wine, I could just tell.

Cautiously poking my head out of the guest apartments i was staying in, I checked the hall. Left. Right. Left. Thank god. No Protagonist in sight, she hasn't come back yet. Better hurry though.

I walk fast and keep close to the wall. Ducking into alcoves at every new female voice. Passing servants, Nobles, and the occasional Knight either murmur what they know of Protagonist's last known location or politely pretend not to see me. For anyone else, this would be scandalous behavior. For ME? Well... everyone knew EXACTLY why I was being driven to such extremes.

I thankfully reached the governance wing unmolested. It was far quite and none of the pack of fools ever really set foot here. Not ever the ones who were SUPPOSED to be busy learning their future roles as leaders of this country. God, I could only hope the third prince somehow quietly pulls a coup.

Not that I'd SAY that.

The gaurds don't even bother to announce me, I'm here so often. Merely opening the door. I maintain my decorum none the less. JUST long enough for the doors to finally close and I am able to drop my social mask like whipping of my bra after a long day. Oh thank fuuuuuuck. FREEDOM!

A familiar chuckle, like incense smoke, wafts from the second floor of the office.

"Oh my~, so tired?" My friend muses, his voice that ever lilting purr. I hear him closing whatever heavy tome he's currently studying. "And so early in the DAY! Was it the little nuisance again? Surely she must have SOMETHING better to do?"

Gently putting the wine I'm gifting him on his desk, I then throw up my arms. You would THINK! Wouldn't you?! It's an old complaint. And frankly? I'm glad he still let's me vent about it. It HAS to get old. Yet? He let's me complain anyway.

I met the, roughly translated, "Keeper Of The Shield" at one of the Crown Prince's many ridiculous parties. I was dragged along as Protagonist's plus one. Because GOD FORBID she bring one of her suitors! That might lean towards CHOICE! Can't have THAT!

It was an overly dramatic, gaudy, slow motion trainwreck from beginning to end. I? Got very, VERY drunk. I knew I shouldn't. It was wildly inappropriate. But I was HORRIFIED. Hid near the balconies and drank to forget. Contemplating jumping.

Was likely the only one there my age NOT in ten layers of bows and fabric flowers. It was probably why Crevan decide to talk to me. That and the look of abject suffering. He informed that, sadly, the balconies were locked. But if I planned to maim my self to escape, he could probably boost me up enough to reach the upper windows.

I choked on my drink and guffawd like an idiot. It was SUPER flattering. Very pretty. And honestly? The best conversation I'd had in YEARS. He was droll. Witty. Snarky. In just as much hell as I was. We gleefully narrated the drama playing out before us in as cutting a manner as possible. Grown adults, government officals! Behaving like fucking CHILDREN.

Only after, did I learn I had been chatting with the equivalent of the minister of the Defense. THE commander of our nation's defensive forces. All of them. Knights, army, spies. All of it. And the poor man had been dragged from his desk to play party prop by a glorified teenager. I was horrified. Appalled. Fucking OUTRAGED to learn that it was just... normal!

This country was a nightmare! Otome games are HELL. Lacey, sparkly HELL!!!

But at least I had Crevan to keep me sane. He was always willing to listen. Advise when he could. We had HOPED that Protagonist would start maturing... I'd even mentioned it, but it just seemed like she back slid again and again! Trapping me. Isolating me! Ruining my chances to move ON and have a LIFE!

I don't know what went wrong! Is it me? Am I too hand holdy? It's starting to destabilize the country! Not that the royal family even seems to notice! God no, if it weren't for Crevan, the whole PLACE would have collapsed!

I flop down on my couch. Technically it's not "mine", but honestly? He's fooling no one. The man barely had ANY guest furniture before we became friends. It's totally my couch. (He even got a tea table for us, the softy.)

"Oh? A gift? How thoughtful, dear~" It's only months of friendship that keep from jumping these days. I should get that man a BELL. "Would you like some?"

I can't help but huff a laugh. He always looks to PLEASED when he gets the jump on someone. Startles them. A mischievous asshole, that one. Touchy, too. Forever cupping my cheek or earnestly taking my hand. Patting my head. Guiding me by the elbow or shoulder. He has so few friends... I am certain he is touch starved.

A thought occurs to him, as he pours two cups. A sly grin stretching across his face as he turns to offer me a cup. The wine's scent mixes, burning and delicate, with the ever present smells of incense and his favorite herbal cigarettes. Blurring the senses and relaxing. It's a pretty strong drink.

"You KNOW... it just occurs to me! Darling, if you want to avoid that pest? Why not spend the day HERE? I'd love to have you. " his voice becomes low and serious for a moment, almost catching me off gaurd, bouncing back before I can really think about it. "You could trash my shelves again! Camp out on my couches! It'll be like a little party~ Just you and me! Not a care in the world. You won't have to worry a single thing~"

He grins, glasses catching the light, toothy like the old scheming fox he is.

"I'll keep you nice and safe~"

[jq37]

no but seriously the whole david thing was so fucked up, and it's especially wild how it comes right after book 19 and cassie's deal with aftran, where we are shown the "humanity" of the evil brain slugs, and then right afterward we get three books showing just how evil these kids have become just by virtue of the way they've been forced to fight (do you think they'd turned fourteen yet, when they exiled a kid their age, because they'd forcibly recruited him just as they'd been recruited, and he didn't handle it like they did?)

This has been sitting in my ask box for a bit because I wanted to fact check my memories but woof. I don't know that I would have handled David any better at 14 or now for that matter.

Especially after the Saddler incident. Like we saw some humanity from a Yeerk in book 19 and then some REAL Yeerk behavior in David choosing to steal this poor kid's identity and life--literally throwing him down an elevator shaft to finish him off. Not just any kid either--Jake and Rachel's cousin. Their obnoxious cousin who sucked but still. Their flesh and blood family.

The thing that really gets me about The Solution is, at the end of the day, it's Cassie's plan. Cassie, the kindest most empathetic member of the group, is forced to use that empathy with brutal efficiency to figure out how to play emotional chess with this fellow kid huge amoral liability and it works. It works exactly according to plan.

But she has to live with that. Cassie, the tree hugger, the vegetarian, the one who was willing to sacrifice her life for one stranger three books ago has to live with the knowledge that she did this (knowing full well what the lifespan is of a rat as opposed to a human boy) and she has to live with that knowledge for a long, long time.

Anyway I don't know about evil, but ruthless? Oh yeah.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

LEGACY: A Tony Stark Daughter Story Masterlist (Reader Insert Version)

MAIN MASTERLIST

MARVEL MASTERLIST

LEGACY was my first published fanfic on here. It was based off a dream I had and I finally had the courage to write it down. I wrote it as an original character based on me, not really knowing about reader inserts yet. A while ago, I went back to it and began editing it into a reader insert and I think it's time that I share it. The OG LEGACY will remain on my Tumblr where it belongs, so apologies for any confusion that may happen.

As is my style, this story will cover several movies and contain three endings.

I hope that people enjoy it; comments, likes, reblogs, and/or asks are always welcome.

“This will all sound cheesy, but I figure that if you’re reading this then you should already be prepared. This is the story of my family. Of our love, our losses, our sacrifices. Of how we fought to stay together, fought to survive. This is the story of Y/N Stark and the Avengers. This is my story.”

PROLOGUE 1 / PROLOGUE 2

AVENGERS AGE OF ULTRON

ONE / TWO / THREE / FOUR / FIVE / SIX / SEVEN / EIGHT / NINE / TEN / ELEVEN

BOUND TO BE BROKEN

TWELVE / THIRTEEN / FOURTEEN / FIFTEEN / SIXTEEN / SEVENTEEN / EIGHTEEN / NINETEEN / MORE TO COME...

CAPTAIN AMERICA CIVIL WAR

CHAPTERS COMING SOON

SPIDER-MAN: HOMECOMING

CHAPTERS COMING SOON

AVENGERS INFINITY WAR

CHAPTERS COMING SOON

CAPTAIN MARVEL

CHAPTERS COMING SOON

AVENGERS ENDGAME

CHAPTERS COMING SOON

CHOOSE AN ENDING

CHAPTERS COMING SOON

[mcuamerica]

The Shadowsinger: Fourteen

Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. Mentions of abuse and SA, SMUT (oral f!rec, tiny bit of shadow play), mention of canon level violence, ACOTAR series spoilers. If I forgot anything, please let me know!

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: Feyre arrives at the Night Court, Rhys requests you to stay at the House for the first week.

Disclaimer: I do not own SJM’s characters or plot lines, only the ones I create for the purpose of this story. This is a work of fiction. I do not give permission to repost my work on any other platform or medium. Please be respectful.

My graphics are my own. If you wish to use them, please give credit!

Series Masterlist

Nine - Ten - Eleven - Twelve - Thirteen

You stayed at Windhaven, Azriel tended to check in on you more often than Cass or Rhys. He even stayed one night last week, you both staying up into the early morning hours talking about your childhoods and stupid things you used to do when you were young. Every time he came to visit, you couldn’t help but want to spend more and more time with him. 

And each week for the following month, you did just what you said you were going to. You joined a new group of Illyrians that were training. You were working on sword training now. You had the blacksmith make a specific set for the females so the males wouldn’t complain or make excuses. 

You did better everyday, and by the time the month was up, you had advanced four levels. In just two more months you would be ready to participate in the qualifying course. You watched males do it every day, the course would change with the males. And some males failed, others succeeded. You marked their wrong doings and thought you could truly do it now. But you wouldn’t try to before you were ready. You didn’t need to fail in front of them. It would only prove what they already think. 

One day, Mor winnowed to Windhaven, calling you out of the ring. You jogged over to her, frowning at her expression. “Rhys has Feyre at the Palace above Hewn City.” She said. “He wants you there since Feyre knows you… just for today,” she said. 

“He called in the bargain?” You asked, glancing back as the males continued their sparring. You were itching to keep going today. But if Rhys needed your help with Feyre, you could sacrifice the afternoon. 

“Yes, he did.” She answered. You nodded, holding out your hand. “Take me there.” You said. You still hadn’t been at the Palace above Hewn City before. You'd only ever been to Hewn City a handful of times when Amarantha was inspecting it. From what you remembered, you hoped you didn’t have to enter the Court of Nightmares. 

Read Feyre Arrives Drabble here

A month went by since Rhys called in the bargain, you went up another three levels in training, and Rhys started talking to you about what was going on with Feyre. He needed someone to disclose his thoughts to, and you were the one who he thought wouldn’t judge him. Or at least show it. And you gave good advice. 

And then Tamlin trapped Feyre in his manor. You were so furious that you offered to go back to the Spring Court and kill him yourself. He wouldn’t even see you coming. Not in the shadows. But Rhys said that would be reckless, not to mention Feyre had a right to it before any of you. And then Rhys after her. 

So you stayed in the House for the week that she arrived, knowing she might want a familiar face around that wasn’t Mor or Rhys. She still didn’t trust you much, that you could tell, but you were friendly to her. You still trained with Cassian, you even saw Feyre come up to the ring to watch. Until she was noticed. Then she would run away like a mouse caught stealing food. As if she wasn’t your High Lord’s mate. She clearly didn’t know yet, and you had your own opinions on Rhys’s choice to keep it a secret, but you wouldn’t say anything to her. 

And maybe you were glad to spend the time near Azriel. He was staying in the House as well and even when Cassian was there to break up the flirting, it was a little disappointing. You wanted to be alone with Azriel. Not with a chaperon. 

Azriel felt the same way. So, the day before you were due to go back to Windhaven, he approached you after your morning training. Leaning his shoulder against the doorway, you felt him studying you as you put on a necklace. “Can I help you, Shadowsinger?” You teased as you turned around. 

“Would you like to go out with me today? Maybe for lunch and then a walk through the Rainbow?” He asked. You could’ve sworn your heart stuttered while your stomach flipped. 

“I would. Very much.” You said and glanced down at the outfit you wore. 

“You are perfect, no need to change.” He said, causing heat to your face. 

“Okay, hot shot. Shall we leave now then?” You teased, laughing when he held out an arm for you to take. You rested your hand on his bicep, not missing the slight flex as you did. You gave a small squeeze as you walked up the stairs to go to the roof. 

“Where are you going?” Cassian asked as he saw the two of you come up the stairwell. 

“Nowhere of your concern.” You said firmly, continuing to walk with Azriel. You noticing a small smirk forming on his lips. 

“I gave you an hour for lunch, you better be back by then.” He warned. 

“I won’t.” You said and nodded for Az to fly up. “I’m taking the rest of the day off. Have fun.” You said before taking off. You giggled as Azriel and you raced down to the restaurant on the Sidra, still laughing as you landed right outside. 

“Lucky I don’t have to pay for that tomorrow.” You said, still quietly laughing to yourself as you took Azriel’s hand and walked in the restaurant. 

You and Azriel were friendly with each other now and weren’t strangers to leaning against the other or holding hands. But being out, where anyone in the city could see you, was a little different. It felt more official. Like you and Az were on a date. 

The realization hit you when you sat down at the table, waiting for your food. “Is this a date?” You asked, needing it to be clear. 

You noticed a red hue flush on Azriel’s cheeks as he took a gulp of his drink. “Yes.” He said. Although he was flustered, he didn’t want to question it. 

“Good.” You said. “I was wondering when you were going to ask.” You teased and nudged his leg with yours, smiling. He was different when you two were out in the city compared to when you were alone in the cabin or the House. You knew he had a reputation to upkeep, but at least he was more relaxed in Velaris than Windhaven. There, if a male so much as looked at you the wrong way he was pushing them into the snow. Or mud. Or wall. It pissed you off a little, but you knew he had his own trauma when it came to Illyrians. Though, if they were going to take you seriously, he was going to have to stop doing that. 

You weren’t together. You weren’t courting or mates. He had no claim to you. And even if you were, he still should let you protect yourself. Especially if you’re trying to show the Illyrians that females are just as strong and capable as males. 

“I suppose I didn’t ask, but I figured it was clear enough.” He said, looking at you for a few moments. 

“Why did you ignore me those first few weeks I was here? Did I offend you?” You asked after a silence fell over the two of you. 

“Offend me? No… you..” he sighed, looking down at his hands. Azriel never had trouble with his words when speaking to the others, but with you, it was different. He stumbled over them much more than normal. Especially when your eyes were upon him. “You had been through so much and I was… I’ll admit I was very attracted to you. You had an amazing personality… this light that I hadn’t seen in some time. And something pulled me to you. The more time I spent near you… the more I wanted to go further. To spend time alone with you.” Azriel said. You looked at him and felt a smile come to your lips as you listened to him talk. 

“But you just got your freedom back. And I didn’t know what you went through Under the Mountain. Only the little Rhys told us. I didn’t want to push you… not so soon after.” He explained. 

“To be honest, I think it would’ve been better if you just talked to me about it. I thought you hated me.” You said. 

“I think what I felt for you was far from hatred…” he said, heat rising to your face. 

“You flatter me, Shadowsinger,” you teased and smiled, thanking the server as they brought your food. You took a bite of the leafy greens, then leaned back. “Will you join me at Windhaven when I return tomorrow? Cassian is coming… but I’d like you there too.” 

Azriel nodded, taking a bite of the meat in front of him. “As much as I despise Windhaven and the Illyrian war camps, I’d like to join you.” He said. “Only to see how many levels you gained this week by training with Cassian, and to see the look on a Devlon’s face when he finds out.” He teased and you laughed. 

“You know, I think I’m growing on the male.” You said and shrugged. “I’m proving to him that I can do it. And it’s not just talk. Plus, the other females are excelling almost more than the males… though they haven’t allowed them to try using their killing power or Siphons yet.” You said. 

“Have you?” He asked and you shook your head. 

“I think I would know if I had killing power..” you mentioned.

“Not necessarily. Have you tried using your shadows as a shield before? That’s how mine first came about.” He said and you shook your head, not even knowing that was an option. 

“I have only ever used my shadows to bind people… or to conceal myself and travel.” You said, smiling a bit. “And spy, of course. But I still haven’t been able to control them fully. Sometimes.. during my bargain with Amarantha, I couldn’t help when my shadows would tell me something. And they would reveal truths about the Fae to me, ones that I had to disclose to her.” You said, shifting in your spot. Talking about her, about that time, was difficult. You’d met with a priestess in the library, one that was available for any of the harmed females to talk to. She told you that if you didn’t talk about it, the hurt would only get worse. The nightmares wouldn’t go away. 

“Did she ever do anything else… besides call in her bargain every chance she got?” He asked. 

You pursed your lips, leaning forward. It was such a public place to be talking about this. But the residents of Velaris wouldn’t tell anyone. And if they did… you were pretty sure you wouldn’t care. “If she was disappointed in my spying, she would have her sentries, like the Attor, spread out my wings. Then, she would take a dagger to them just close enough to the tendons so I couldn’t fly for weeks. Once she laced it with bloodbane, and I was indisposed for a month. And I had hallucinations the entire time. Rhys send Nuala and Cerridwen to look after me when he couldn’t. But that was a horrible month.” You said, shuddering at the memories. 

“I thought your bargain meant she had to keep them intact.” He asked. You could see the growing anger in his eyes, the way his fist clenched around his glass, almost breaking it. 

“She was very specific with how she worded the bargain. All she promised was that she could not clip them, could not make me permanently unable to fly…” You said and frowned, taking a deep breath. “I should’ve made her swear neither her nor anyone on her behalf could even touch my wings without my permission. But I was terrified. And naive… to make a bargain with someone like her.” You said and shook your head. “I’m lucky Rhys was truly as kind as he was… I think I would’ve lost myself there if he hadn’t been.” You said. 

“Did she ever… make you watch them?” He asked and you shook your head. 

“No, but she would have the sentries spread my wings out.., and instead of ripping them to shreds, she would force her hands on them until I…” you trailed off. “In front of her audience. As a party trick. It was amusing to her to see how much touching an Illyrian’s wings could pleasure them.” You frowned, forcing the tightness of your throat to ease as you sipped your wine. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready for anyone to touch my wings like that again.”

Azriel studied your wings. The closer he looked, the more scars he saw. They were small, and had repaired themselves. No doubt by Rhys. But they were still visible. The ones from your father were more prominent, but he could tell the ones that were from Amarantha. They were indeed placed carefully close to the tendons, where it was most painful. 

While you thought he would pity you, apologize for what happened even though he had no control over it, his anger only increased. “It’s a good thing she’s dead.” Azriel said. 

You let out a strained laugh, a soft smile coming to your lips. “Yes, a very good thing.” You said and took a deep breath. “Wow… enough of that depressing shit, tell me about your favorite place in Velaris.” You said. 

You listened as Azriel talked about his favorite place, this small tavern in the Rainbow. They had a special set up where one could request the pianist to play a song and you could sing. You learned another new thing about Azriel. He loved to sing, when he was alone. Or in that one tavern. Of course the Inner Circle knew about it, but he went alone most nights. So, you made him promise you that he would take you there someday. Only so you could show him how horrible you were at singing. And maybe so that you could hear him sing. 

The rest of the afternoon was spent walking around the city, tucked under his arm to bring warmth to you from the cold. It was the dead of winter, and it was a nice day out but the wind was a little too brisk to enjoy it properly. Azriel kept you in the city into the night, even taking you to a short play in the Rainbow. He frequented this area a lot, he told you. He loved seeing what the citizens of Velaris created. You noted it, and promised yourself that you would reserve him seats for his birthday, or the next Winter Solstice. 

Eventually, you flew back up to the house. You would have preferred to stay in the skies longer, but there was a storm coming in that made the wind too cold to fly for too long. At least for you. Azriel offered to shield you, but you decided against it. You were tired from training in the morning and spending the rest of the day out. By the time you stopped in front of your door, you didn’t want Azriel to leave. 

You turned to him, leaning against the door. You really didn’t want to go back into your room. Alone. “I really enjoyed spending the day with you.” You said softly. “Maybe Rhys should steal more High Lord’s girlfriends.” You joked. 

He smiled at that, and as he did, his gaze turned into something different. A mixture of lust and fondness. Like he wasn’t ready to leave you either. 

“Care to join for me for tea?” You asked, hand slowly finding the doorknob. He only smirked in answer, and opened the door for you. You stumbled back, reaching out to grip his biceps to steady yourself. 

You let out a silent laugh, then looked up at him. His hazel eyes gazing into yours. You couldn’t take it anymore. 

The next moment, your hands were in his hair and your mouth was on his. You had to go on the tip of your toes just so you could reach him properly. And before you could stumble forward at the effort, he leaned down and picked you up by the thighs. Your shadows guided both of you over to your bed, making sure to push you one way or the other so you didn’t run into chairs. Azriel set you down on the edge of the bed, only bracing his hands on either side of you. You pulled away breathlessly when he leaned down to kiss your neck. 

“Az..” you let out a soft whimper. He found the spot in your neck that made your core heat further. “Please…” you needed him to be touching you with more than his mouth. Your body was on fire. Every drag of clothing or bedding made you shutter. How could he do this to you, make you want him this much? With just a simple kiss? 

“Please what, sweetheart? You need to use your words.” He whispered and you almost finished at his tone. The deep rumble from the back of his throat. 

“I need you to touch me.” You replied, pulling him in for another kiss. You let out a whine when he pulled away, but pushed your chest gently down on the bed. Your wings splayed beneath you, and you watched as his hands slowly ran down to your pants. 

You bit your lip, holding back a moan as he lifted your sweater slightly to kiss your stomach, then began pulling down the pants from your waist. You lifted your hips to help him. 

When they were discarded at the other side of the room, Azriel let out a growl at the thin pair of lingerie you had on. You didn’t pick it because you thought this would happen, but you were feeling a little frisky earlier. 

“You are gorgeous.” He whispered, his scarred hands trailing up your thighs. He gave them a light squeeze before pulling down the undergarments, smirking at how slick you were already. “Just for me, sweetheart?” Azriel asked. 

You whined, squirming under his gaze. “Just for you, Shadowsinger.” You said, reaching down to cup his cheek. “Now have your dessert.” You commanded. You were never too dominant in the bedroom, but you couldn’t wait. 

“Your wish is my command,” he whispered before his head disappeared between your thighs. 

You arched your back, a soft moan spurring from your throat as you felt his shadows pin you down on the bed while his tongue gave a gentle lick of your folds. You’d never thought to use your shadows like that. But now, you’d have to ask him how to. 

His hands trailed your thighs, squeezing them as he devoured your slick. One hand moved to that bundle of nerves, coaxing your climax further. You called out his name, straining against his shadows. Your hands took his hair, tugging on it as you forced him closer to your core. 

He removed his tongue from your center, switching it with two of his fingers. “You like this sweetheart? Having me on my knees?” 

“Gods.. Azriel yes.” You moaned, writhing in the grip of his shadows. 

As he plunged his fingers in and out of you, curling them ever so slightly, he dipped his head again, sucking on your bundle to drive you right over the edge. His fingers continued through your climax, his shadows releasing on their own accord as you arched your back. Your wings fluttered beneath you while you let out a moan you were sure could be heard all the way in Windhaven. He coaxed you out of it just as he coaxed you to it. Pulled out his fingers, he slowly licked them, then pushed himself up and kissed you. 

You tasted yourself on his tongue, your moan disappearing when he kissed you again. “You are incredible, (Y/N).” He whispered when he pulled away. You were panting. A slight sweat had formed on your forehead. Your sweater clung to you in an uncomfortable way. 

“You are,” you replied, bringing your hand up to cup his cheek. “Let me repay you.” You whispered, stroking his chin with your thumb. The slight stubble made your core heat again. 

“Get some rest, first. You’re tired.” He whispered and kissed you. “Tomorrow, we can talk.” He said, planting a kiss on your temple as he stood up. You sat up on the bed and grabbed his hand.

“Don’t leave.” You said. You weren’t going to deny you wanted to spend the entire night tangled in the sheets with him. 

“If I stay, we’ll be up all night. And you need rest for training tomorrow.” He said and leaned down, pecking your lips. “I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you.” He said and winked before backing up, his shadows swirling around his feet. Like they knew he didn’t need them right now. Yours were doing the same. They knew you were both comfortable around each other and didn’t need them interfering. 

“Promise you’ll be there tomorrow?” You asked and a side smile appeared on his lips. 

“Promise.” And he left. 

He might very well be the death of you. And you were happy to give in, hoping it was slow and sweet.

A/N: ...I'm just gonna leave this here...

Comments/Request Here

Series Masterlist

Join the taglist here

Tagging (if you are not being tagged properly, please send me a message, I will fix it as soon as I can!):

@cherry-cin @cleverzonkwombatsludge @nickishadow139 @mybestfriendmademe @atomolvnar

@complete-randomness-2 @lilah-asteria @tele86 @mariahoedt @6v6babycheese @secretsthathauntus @krowiathemythologynerd @fightmedraco @he6rtshaker @kayla-rose15 @aelincaddel

@mfri06 @hauntedstudentobservationus @brieflyclassymortal @read-write-sleep-startover @krowiathemythologynerd @chxosangxl @ialwayscryatendings @tanyaherondale

[tumbleweed-writes]

#22 and #97 from your smut prompt list, please? 🥹 whit chibs of course. thank you 💘

Sweetness: Chibs Telford X Reader.

18+ only of course.

=========

Sweetness was not something Filip Chibs Telford was accustomed to. In fact, he would most likely argue that there had never been any place for a sense of sweetness in his life, not even during his childhood.

He’d been raised on the streets of Glasgow and Belfast running wild and causing havoc more often than not. His poor sweet mother had worked so hard and so often that Chibs had been left to his own devices which usually consisted of running amuck with the other kids in the housing estate he’d been raised in.

It was in the housing estate in Belfast where he’d met Fiona Larkin who had shown him more than one way to get into trouble. She’d introduced him to the cause; a fight for a free and independent Ireland. 

There was no room for sweetness in the fight. That world was one filled with chaos and violence. 

He had known so little gentleness during that time. His Kerrianne of course had given him a sense of peace even with all the savagery that had been required by the cause.

That sense of peace had been so cruelly ripped away from him though. The peace he’d known for such a little amount of time had been yanked out from under him leaving him a broken shell of a man. 

When he had been so violently and traumatically banished from the cause, losing his family in the process, he’d found himself lost until SAMBEL had come to provide him with shelter.

That shelter was another environment where violence and ruthlessness was a natural part of life.

He’d embraced the ruthlessness and mayhem telling himself that he no longer cared about what happened to him.

He’d lost his wife and child and no longer had a place in the cause. He had thrown himself into SAMBEL with everything he had.

When SAMCRO had required a patch over from the Belfast Charter to ease tensions between the charters and the IRA, Chibs had been a natural choice. He was a loyal Son with knowledge of the cause. 

The MC had been his salvation and he’d thrown his loyalty fully into both charters.

SAMBEL and SAMCRO had offered a sense of belonging and a purpose. The belonging had a price though. The world of the MC was one of brotherhood but the brotherhood required sacrifice. That sacrifice meant embracing danger and brutality without question or fear.

Gentleness was not something Chibs had been allowed. Even when his Kerrianne had been brought back into his life; he could not fully return to a life of gentleness. 

Chibs had felt as though his life was far too often one of harsh violence. It was the reality of the life he’d chosen. He had accepted the reality of his world. 

He loved his brothers deeply and he loved his daughter, but he was comfortable with doing what was necessary for SAMCRO. He was a loyal Son after all. He would do what was asked of him no matter how brutal it might be. 

He’d never thought it would be possible to ever feel any sense of gentleness. He’d told himself that sweetness was not meant for men like him. 

So, imagine his shock when she came into his life.

Y/N was the definition of sweetness. He guessed it made sense given her line of work.

If anyone had told him that the nanny Tara had hired to help with Abel Teller, during her husband and a few other members of SAMCRO’s fourteen month stint in the San Joaquin County Correctional Facility, would be so appealing Chibs would not have believed it.

When he heard grumbles from Gemma about this new nanny, Chibs had been expecting some older lass. He’d been anticipating some grandmotherly type.

Y/N was no one's grandmother.

She was far younger than he’d been anticipating and far more alluring. Chibs had  almost felt guilty finding her so seductive considering the very first time he’d laid eyes upon her she’d been doing something quite innocent; coloring with Abel Teller.

He’d told himself that he was a total pervert, almost Tig-level, to be staring right down at Y/N’s cleavage when she’d been doing something as pure as coloring with a toddler.

It had been lust at first sight. Then she’d gazed up at Chibs and given him a demure little smile, and then he was certain it had been love at first sight.

It was in that moment that Chibs Telford had realized he was absolutely fucked just not quite in the way he’d like to be when it came to the young pretty nanny. 

He’d tried so hard to deny exactly what his heart and the lower region of his body was screeching it wanted. 

He’d told himself that there was no use finding Y/N attractive or admiring her sweet little smile. She most likely would have zero interest in an aging outlaw biker. He’d figured that a girl as sweet and as appealing as her most likely had a man. 

Besides, he’d tried to convince himself, he had so much work to do. This was no time to be distracted by a pretty young thing. 

The majority of his brothers were locked up and there were only a handful of guys keeping the club afloat. His focus had to be on SAMCRO. 

This was no time to even entertain the concept of romancing Abel Teller’s pretty nanny.

It seemed that fate had decided to laugh in his face though as it constantly seemed to plant Y/N right on the property of TM Auto and the Sons clubhouse.

With as much of a fuss as Gemma had made about the hiring of Y/N, the Queen of SAMCRO had grown quite fond of little Miss. Y/N. 

In fact, Chibs had gotten the strangest inkling that Gemma had hopes to set up the pretty little nanny with a Son. He’d maybe accidentally overheard Gemma’s attempts to point out available Sons to Y/N and the little causal questions about if Y/N had a man. 

He’d hated to admit that Gemma’s clear attempts to sniff out Y/N’s interest in a Son did trouble him quite a bit. He’d maybe felt the slightest smidge of annoyance when Gemma would mention Kozik to Y/N or even his incarcerated brother Juice. He’d found himself mentally grumbling that neither man seemed worthy of Y/N though he’d felt like an old fool for the thought. 

It seemed that Gemma’s approval of Y/N was born out of the fact that the woman was a godsend to Tara during such a trying time. 

She had to admit that the young woman was a great help to her pregnant daughter in law. 

The young woman was good with Abel, which was a high task. The little boy was high energy and required some extra care given the heart condition he’d been born with required medication and a watchful eye.

Y/N had proven to be a responsible caregiver with a seemingly endless sense of patience.

Chibs hated to admit he’d noticed and admired the way Y/N seemed to take on the Teller boy without ever breaking that sweet demeanor.

It seemed that Gemma had been approving of the fact that Y/N was comfortable enough around TM Auto and seemed to be wise enough not to question the legality of the men her boss was so acquainted with. 

Most of the time Chibs had been able to avoid making nothing more than polite small talk with Y/N. She was usually a little busy with Abel after all. She was even on occasion willing to watch over the Winston children as well as Lyla’s boy which Lyla and Opie were happy to pay for.

So, given that Y/N was usually surrounded by children, Chibs had found that he could not do much more than make some polite small talk…that he might on occasion be bold enough to tack on just the slightest hint of flirtation to.

He had been relieved that if she’d noticed the flirting she’d not seemed opposed to it. In fact, at times it had felt as though she was even flirting back just a little. 

The change from polite acquaintances to friendship had come when Y/N’s car had broken down on the side of the road.

When a tow truck had been called from TM Auto, Chibs had been the one to answer the call. In fact, he’d been the one who had practically tripped over himself to answer the call once he found out it was Y/N who was calling. 

The ride to TM Auto had started with small talk until Chibs had found himself asking a bit of a deeper question.

“How’d ye get into child mindin? If ye don’t mind me askin?”

Y/N had shrugged her shoulders, a small sheepish smile crossing her features as she toyed with the strap to her purse. “I have always been good with kids…even when I was a kid. It’s a long story…but I guess to make the long story short, I grew up in and out of foster homes. More often than not they weren’t great homes, and there were usually a lot of kids. The last few I lived in, they kind of sucked. Someone had to look out for the kids.I had to grow up fast, but on the bright side it gave me a skillset that I can use”

Chibs furrowed his brow, something in his heart twisting at the tale. He spoke before he could stop himself. “What bout yer family? There was no one?”

“Not anyone responsible enough nor willing. My parents just weren’t…ready. The rest of my family was in trouble with the law more often than not, so I wasn’t really able to go to any of them. The second I turned eighteen I was officially aged out of the system. I had to find a path on my own and figure it out. I waitressed for a few years, but the money wasn’t too great. The nanny thing seemed like a better path. I found an ad in the paper looking for a nanny that had decent pay and I applied. I lived in a bigger city back then, down in Southern California, and there were some affluent families that were willing to pay me pretty well even if I didn’t have the same qualifications as some other options. They liked how good I was with the kids and they liked that I was a student at the time. I was able to take a few classes while I nannied, art classes, ceramics and painting…I had hopes at one point I could make a career out of that, but life doesn’t always turn out the way we hoped.”

“What brings ye to Charming, we ain’t exactly a big city? Doesn’t seem like many nanny jobs out ere compared to the city.” Chibs blurted out a frown still written across his features as he thought of her past and how it seemed she’d had no one to care for her as a child. He could relate to a sense of feeling alone and abandoned by those who should protect you. 

He felt his heart twist even more at the mention of life not turning out the way she’d hoped. He could relate to this feeling as well. 

Y/N paled at the question gazing at the older man beside her. She debated telling the truth. She feared what his reaction might be to the truth. Even worse, she feared he’d go off and share the information with Tara who would only view her as a risk to keep as an employee.

She sighed deciding that there was no use in lying. She had to hope and pray that Chibs Telford would not betray her secrets. “I was dating this guy…he got kind of intense and I decided that I…I just, I needed to get away…I wasn’t happy in the city. I was lonely more often than not…I needed a change. Charming seemed like as good of a place as any. I needed a break from school anyhow, I think I just wanted some change.”

Chibs furrowed his brow a sense of something that unsettled him settling down in his gut at the mention of this ex. He held back any further questions about it, unable to keep the flirty tone from his voice, the words leaving him before he could stop them. “Aye, I know the feeling, bein lonely…I’m glad ye chose Charming, Love. If ye ever feel lonely around here, I’m around. I find I’m pretty good company.”

Y/N felt that warm feeling blossom in her chest the way she’d noticed it did far too often when it came to Chibs Telford. “Me too, I am happy here. I’ll keep that in mind.”

The conversation had helped build an odd sort of friendship between the pair. In between dealing with club business, Chibs had found himself gravitating towards Y/N and she’d seemed willing to accept his company.

She usually wound up bringing Abel up to TM Auto at least twice a week at Gemma’s insistence. During those visits Chibs found reasons to visit with her. 

The change in the odd friendship they’d developed had come when Lyla had invited Y/N to a Friday night bash. She was off nanny duty and Lyla had coaxed Y/N into a fun night out.

She’d insisted that a woman Y/N’s age needed to let loose. Y/N had anxiously accepted the offer telling herself that a night out couldn’t hurt even if it was in SAMCRO’s clubhouse. 

Nothing had prepared Chibs for the sight of Y/N walking into a Friday night party clinging close to Lyla, wearing the most alluring little lilac dress.

He’d noticed that he was not the only man admiring her that night. When a club hangaround had taken too much interest Chibs had felt a much needed push to make his move.

He’d approached her with enough brazeness, his arm wrapping around her waist the words leaving him. “Let me get ye a drink, Love, come keep a lad company.”

A few shots, some lingering touches, and a game of darts had been all it had taken for Chibs’ lips to land against hers.

When they’d parted, doubts had begun to plague his mind, the words flying from his lips. “I am such a prick, ye have been drinkin an ye aint in the right state of mind to allow this shite.”

She’d rolled her eyes staring up at him like he was an idiot as she’d spoken. “I have been trying to get you to want to kiss me for months now, Filip. Just because we have both had a little liquid courage to push us towards this doesn’t mean I’m incapable of knowing what I want. What I want is you.”

He sighed his throat tightening up the words leaving him praying he was not dropping a bombshell on her. “I aint what ye need, Love. I know yer a smart lass…ye probably have noticed that yer boss and her associates ain't exactly operating on the right side of the law.”

Y/N took him by shock, the words leaving her. “I had my suspicions. I didn’t exactly come from saints, Filip. I wasn’t brought up around people who walked on the right side of the law both within my own family and in the occasional foster home I wound up in. It’s nothing new to me. I figured out just who and what my boss’ husband was the first time Tara had me take Abel by TM and I spotted the clubhouse and the kuttes. I won’t pretend that I wasn’t a little freaked out…but I am not about to bite the hand that feeds me, or pays me in this scenario.”

She paused, staring into his eyes her words earnest. “I find it hard to think you aren’t what I need. I have never felt as though I wasn’t safe around you or the people you associate with. I don’t particularly care what side of the law you’re walking on. I enjoy being around you. I am pretty accustomed to not feeling like I have a place in the world, it’s a feeling that’s always followed me, but when I’m with you, I think I might just have found a place in the world.”

She’d paused, spotting the doubts in his eyes before she spoke again. “You kiss me again tomorrow, the answer isn’t going to change. I know exactly what I want.”

He’d not had a chance to give a kiss the next morning as she had been the one to do it. She’d proudly knocked on his dorm room, her lips meeting his as the door had opened the words leaving her. “See, told you so.”

He’d stared down at her dumbfounded as she spoke, her shoulders slumping, fearing she’d misread this entire situation that she was sure had been building between them. “Am I wrong about any of this? You can tell me if I am totally misinterpreting anything. I’m a big girl, I can take rejection, Filip. We can just pretend that this never happened if that’s what you prefer.”

He’d shown her that he was very much not rejecting her, his lips meeting hers. His hands had taken hers dragging her into his dorm room where he’d shown her that he wanted her as much as she wanted him.

That sense of want had not disappeared in their time together.

Y/N had shown Chibs Telford a sense of sweetness he had never thought possible nor had he ever believed he deserved. 

Much to his relief she’d proven that she did not mind what side of the law he walked on. She had proven to him time and time again that she was remaining by his side no matter what chaos his life might bring to her feet. She was loyal and trusting. She was willing to accept who he was in its entirety. 

She had time and time again reassured him that he was good to her and that was what mattered to her at the end of the day. 

She had spent a year by his side thus far and had become his greatest support and his most cherished treasure.

She no longer worked as the nanny for the Teller-Knowles family, but had still remained by Chibs’ side and a part of the world of SAMCRO. She’d become his ol lady. 

Her place as his ol lady had of course meant that her career path had taken a turn. Not many people were thrilled to hire a woman who very bluntly ran around with the local outlaw biker club. 

Chibs had felt guilty at first, fearing he’d taken her from a job she loved.

She had embraced the change though. She’d taken some shifts helping Gemma out in the office at TM Auto and had begun to take classes online with Chibs’ encouragement. She was trying her hand at art again, hoping that she might make a career out of it selling paintings and ceramics online. 

Being practically self employed meant that no one could judge the man she had fallen in love with.

For Chibs it was a love he was thankful for. He had devoted himself to being worthy of the love she so willingly gave him. 

He never thought he could have someone who treated him with such gentleness. 

She might have told him that she felt like she’d found her place in the world beside him, but he had to think it was the other way around. 

He had found his place by her side. 

Much to his delight the crow that had recently been inked onto her skin confirmed that she wanted to be by his side as badly as he realized he needed her there. 

He knew of course that no one would take a look at them and think they belonged together; the sweet former nanny and the outlaw biker. They were an odd match but he was pleased that she was willing to accept the world he came with. 

He couldn’t help but to feel a smug sense of satisfaction in this moment knowing no one would surely believe that the sweet young woman would love the outlaw biker enough to currently be engaging in this activity with him.

He sat on the edge of his bed in his dorm room, the stresses he’d endured today too far away to grasp as Y/N knelt between his parted legs. She rested on her knees, her lips wrapped around his aching cock.

He knew no one would ever believe that his sweet ol lady would so eagerly drop to her knees for him with so little coaxing on his part.

He groaned, his hand pressed to the back of her head, his fingers wrapped in her hair holding it back so that he could have a full view of her treatment of him. 

He spoke the words low and filled with praise. “Oh, Love. So good fer me. Shite, ye love this, don’t ye?”

She hummed around him in response, clearly giving him an affirmative answer, the action making him groan.

He spoke, continuing to stare down at her. “Fuck yes, ye love takin care of this cock. Ye fuckin thrive on wrappin those soft lips round me and takin me down yer throat. No one would believe my sweet lass loves suckin me off.”

She moaned around him again the act causing a pleasant vibration around his aching member. He responded by pushing her head down further, a deep groan leaving his lips as he hit the back of her throat causing her to gag ever so slightly.

She reached forward grasping onto his balls massaging them as she hallowed her cheeks making him groan her name.

She pulled her lips from him and her hand from his balls causing him to let out a disappointed whine. 

The disappointment did not last for long as she wrapped a hand around him, stroking him. She gazed upwards towards him as she spoke her voice so pleasantly raspy given her most recent activity. “I love you.”

“Love ye too, Christ, I love ye.” He groaned, his hand pulling from the back of her head reaching down to caress her cheek.

She leaned into his touch a little pleased soft sigh leaving her as she continued to stroke him. 

He turned her head, her lips running along his palm. He ran his thumb along her swollen lips, she taking the hint wrapping her lips around it sucking the digit with the same intensity she would suck his cock.

He groaned his cock twitching at the action. She ran her tongue along the pad of his thumb the same way she ran it along the tip of his cock when she felt like teasing him.

The action made him groan he pulling his thumb from her mouth placing his hands at her cheeks as he spoke. “Get up ere, Love. Don’t make me wait.”

She obediently released his cock causing a groan to leave him. He spitting in his hand before reaching down and stroking his cock his eyes on her as she stood up.

He spoke his voice a low growl. “Take off those panties, sweetheart. Let me see ye.”

She did as he said shimmying out of the thin cotton fabric allowing it to fall to the floor before kicking it off.

“Get rid of the bra too.” He demanded as he scooted back in his bed resting his back against the headboard he reluctantly releasing his aching cock to do so.

She did as she was told unable to resist the urge to run her hands along her bare breasts. Chibs watched a groan of approval leaving his lips as she tugged at her nipples the little buds hardening to a point.

He spoke his voice low and filled with admiration. “Yer so fucking gorgeous. Perfect, Love.” 

“You’re gorgeous.” She was fast to respond earning a deep chuckle from him a smirk crossing his lips.

“Aye, pretty lass, but terrible taste.” He teased causing her to roll her eyes as she sauntered towards him.

She spoke as she stared down at him her hand reaching out to stroke his cheek he leaning into her touch on instinct. “You are a terribly handsome man, Filip Telford.”

He felt the genuine smile tug at the corner of his lips he quite sure he did not believe her, but the praise was nice all the same.

He patted his thighs he reluctantly pulling from her touch. “Ride me, Love. Been thinkin bout this all day. Fuckin shite with the Irish has pissed me off. Need my ol lady to take care of me.”

She willingly straddled his lap placing either leg on the side of his thighs. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders pressing her body close to his.

He groaned at the feel of her body pressed so snug against his the wet hot heat of her center so close to his aching cock and her hard nipples pressed to his chest.

He reached up massaging her breasts his thumbs sliding along her nipples causing a pleased sigh to leave her her head falling back. He pressed soft kisses to her exposed neck knowing he’d already left a few love bites in his wake earlier this evening.

She would most likely have to use quite a bit of concealer to cover his marks, but this had become a familiar task for her. Though to be honest on occasion when she was feeling particularly cheeky she might forgo the concealer and let the hickeys he’d branded her with be on full exposure knowing he got a certain sense of pride when his brothers teased him over the marks on her neck.

She grinded her hips against him her center sliding along his aching cock teasingly not giving in to taking him just yet. 

He leaned down just enough to wrap his lips around one of her nipples suckling eagerly at the little bud rolling it between his teeth as his hand massaged her breast. The action worked a moan from her lips her hips grinding against him even more fervently.

He gripped down onto her backside, with the hand that was not occupied by her breast, his fingers digging into the flesh a groan leaving his lips vibrating against her breast.

She spoke her mind feeling hazy lust overtaking any sense of shame she may have had. “Oh, Daddy, you feel so good and you aren’t even in me yet.”

He pulled from her breast almost uncertain he’d heard her correctly. 

She felt her hips still dread washing over her as her lust filled brain cleared enough to realize what had just been said. 

He spoke questioning the comment. “Did ye jus call me Daddy?”

She buried her head against the nape of his neck a whine leaving her her skin flushing from far more than arousal. She spoke her words muffled against his neck. “I just killed the mood didn’t I?”

She spoke another mortified whine leaving her. “Can we forget this entire conversation?”

“Not a fuckin chance.” Chibs remarked coaxing her into pulling back she groaning fearing the worst almost sure she’d turned him off.

She spoke the words frantic. “I don’t have daddy issues…I mean, I might…but I probably have Mommy issues too…I don’t see you as some kind of father figure, I swear to God. This isn’t some kind of fucked up thing where my desire for a father figure somehow got crosswired with sexual attraction. I promise that this isn’t some weird kink for me. I can not imagine how uncomfortable blurting that out must make you feel when we never even discussed it. I mean…you’re a dad and it’s so fucking weird. I promise you I will never do this again. I am so so so sorr…”

He spoke interrupting her before she had a chance to keep spiraling. “Lass, calm down and take a breath aye? Yer makin me outta breath with yer ramblin.”

He spoke again before she had a chance to apologize. “Ye didn’t make shite weird. It ain’t weird. As far as kinks, it aint the weirdest one out there. I know ye don’t see me as some kinda da figure. I ain’t relatin that word to me bein a parent. My daughter calls me Da fer fucks sake. As far as daddy issues…I got em too, Lass. Barely knew my own Da. Most people got daddy issues in my experience at least in the crowd we know. I got plenty of my own shite feelings bout my father. I know neither of us are workin out shite from our childhoods on each other, Love.” 

He groaned at the mention of his own childhood and his status as a parent; it not quite something that he enjoyed discussing, especially when he had a beautiful nude woman still pressed so close to his bare cock.

He pressed a kiss to her cheek his voice reassuring. “As far as ye callin me Daddy…I like it. Reminds me that I protect ye, take care of ye. I like takin care of my ol lady.”

He paused pressing another kiss to her cheek. “Ye can call me Daddy all ye want, Love. Trust me, Daddy wants to make his ol lady feel so good.”

He took her hand in his pressing a kiss to her knuckles before guiding it down his body pressing it against his hard cock the words strained as she touched him. “See what ye do to me, Love? This aint a turn off fer me.”

She whined her center clenching at the words and reassurance. She felt her cheeks flush as she spoke, deciding to dip her toes in the water. “Does Daddy want me to ride his cock?”

“Fuck yes, always my Love.” He groaned a whine leaving him as she pulled her hand from his cock.

He reached down between them taking himself in hand. He ran his aching cock along her center a hiss leaving him. “Yer so wet, jus drippin Sweet Love.”

“Just for you Daddy.” She replied preening at the groan that left him at the words his eyes staring into hers dark with lust.

He positioned himself at her, opening his hand placing against her hip encouraging her to lower herself, taking him in slowly inch by inch.

He stared up at her in awe moments like this always taking his breath away. It was that first initial press of his cock into her aching center that just did it for him. It was something about the sight of her; her head fallen back, her lips parted a soft gasp leaving her, her skin flushed. She looked so serene and almost angelic an amusing thought given that they were doing something so far from innocent.

She whined as he entered her to the hilt, he always feeling as though he was almost too much at this angle. She was always overtaken how full and deliciously stretched she felt in this position.

Chibs Telford’s cock was far too magnificent though she would not often praise him over it. The man didn’t need another reason to be cocky, no pun intended.

He pressed his hands to her hips massaging the soft skin letting her adjust to him his breathing deep and steady as he tried to resist the urge to thrust up into her. 

He spoke his voice filled with adoration. “That’s my Love, takin me jus right. Feels like home in ye. Could stay here forever. Needed this so bad Sweet Love. After the fuckin horrible day I had, needed my girl.”

She moaned the words washing over like a caress making her heart ache with adoration.

She knew things had been tense as of lately dealing with club business. She could remember how hesitant he’d been to share the reality of just what SAMCRO did with her as their romantic relationship had blossomed.

It had taken a lot of reassurance and coaxing from her to make him believe it was okay to open up to her about it. She had to remind him that it was not just his burden to carry. She loved him and love meant sharing burdens and holding one another up.

She had found that even if the details he shared with her could be disturbing at times and terrifying at others, she adored him enough to want to listen. She wanted to reassure him when he needed it and comfort him when reassurance did not seem enough.

She pressed her lips to his her voice soft. “Love you Filip.”

“Love ye.” he replied the words barely leaving him before she began to rock against him, his hands gripping down onto her hips encouraging her movements.

He groaned at the heat of her and the soaking silken feel of her around his aching cock. He was not lying. She felt like home. No matter how chaotic and frightening his life felt; her body always gave him a sense of comfort and security.

He pressed his forehead to hers, his hands caressing her hips and bottom as she found a rhythm back and forth up and down. 

She placed a hand against the back of his head stroking his hair, her lips pressing to his their tongues teasingly sliding against one anothers in open mouthed kisses. They moaned against the kisses becoming lost in the feel of one another’s bodies.

He groaned the sensation of her sinking down on to his cock and rising before repeating the action making him feel dizzy. He gazed down at her breasts a groan of approval leaving him as he watched them bounce with the movement. The sight was always a pleasing one.

She giggled spotting where his gaze had landed. He was and had always been a breast man, though Chibs was quick to claim he tended to like every part of a woman. She would quickly point out to him though that upon their first meeting she’d noticed his eyes locked on her tits.

She spoke a gasp leaving her as Chibs gripped down onto her hips pulling her down harder onto him he hitting her at a deeper angle reaching so far into her that she had to tremble at the feeling. “Jesus, Fuck, Filip, right there.”

“Aye righ there? Ye like it when Daddy fucks ye like this?” He teased a moan leaving her her clit throbbing at the words any shame she may have felt earlier a little too far away to grasp.

“I do, does Daddy like this pussy?” She asked the question earning a smack to her backside, the action making her let out a delighted squeak.

“Ye know I do, Love. Love this pussy. Fuckin heaven on my cock.” He praised her, giving her backside another smack smiling at the little noise that left her.

She moaned as he continued to encourage her to bounce on his cock his gaze going back and forth between her breasts and the look of pleasure on her features. It was at times like this that he wished he had two sets of eyes so he could admire both sights.

He spoke encouraging her movements. “That’s my good girl, ridin me, takin care of me. Jus like I take care of her, aye?”

“Uh huh, takes such good care of me, Baby.” She whined her hands caressing his body her nails digging into his scalp and shoulders causing a hiss to leave his lips.

She tugged at his hair forcing his head up so her lips could meet his a groan leaving his lips at the dominant action. She was the only woman in the world who he would willingly allow himself to show such a submissive action to.

He had found that he enjoyed little peeks of domination in her. She’d been so shy the first few times they’d made love. Anytime he could encourage her and make her comfortable enough to take the reins made him harder than he was sure he’d been in his entire life.

He spoke his voice soft, his grip tightening on her hips. “Touch yer clit, Sweet girl. Come on, help Daddy get ye there.”

She did as he said her hand trailing down her body finding the oversenstive little bud knowing any stimulation to it always made her pussy drenched. 

During her single years she had quickly learned that any toying with the sensitive bundle of nerves would make her cum far too quick. It was helpful when she needed to get off and didn’t have much time.

She rubbed circular patterns into the bud, a moan leaving her lips. “Fuck, Filip, Oh shit.”

“Feel good, Love?” He teased already knowing the answer judging by her reaction.

He’d spent long enough rubbing her clit and overstimulating her as he ate her out and fingered her. He’d learned long ago how to pleasure her to the brink of insanity. He took pride in taking care of what was his and making it clear to her that he was capable of making her feel so good.

“Shit, yes. Fucking feels so good, Oh God.” She whined her thighs trembling at the action she struggling to keep up a rhythm as she grinded against him.

He placed his hands at her hips strong enough to guide her hips, his eyes studying her face wishing he’d thought to lie back for this so he could have a clear view of her toying with her clit.

The closeness of sitting up while she rode him was too tempting to ignore though. He’d needed the closeness after the stressful awful day he’d had dealing with club business. 

He wanted to be as close as possible to the love of his life as she rode him out. He didn’t want to think about anything but the woman straddling his hips riding his cock. As far as he was concerned nothing existed outside of this room at this moment.

She whined a heat pooling deep in her abdomen, her body spiraling closer and closer to release the feel of his cock inside of her and her fingers on her aching clit pushing her close to her end. 

She spoke her voice broken curses and his name spilling from her. “Filip, fuck, fuck, fuck, Oh Filip.”

He groaned, his fingers digging into her hips, he speaking, encouraging her. “Fuck yes, Cum on this cock Love.”

She whimpered, feeling lightheaded and shaky, her body trembling as the pleasure became blinding. Her center clenched around him, her orgasm hitting her hard.

He grunted at the sensation of her center fluttering around his aching cock her center so soaked and hot he was certain he could die at this moment and be utterly pleased as he went out. 

He encouraged her movements even as her body jerked she falling apart above him cries of his name leaving her between moans that could only be described as carnal.

He did his best to dig his feet into the bed, bending his knees enough to help him thrust up into her as she fell apart above him. He grunted his balls aching drawing up close to his body signaling all amazing things had to come to an inevitable end.

He huffed out heavy breaths , his brow furrowing in concentration trying not to blow his load so quickly, wanting so badly to draw this out.

He spoke his voice thick with lust. “Shite, Love, ye feel too good.” 

She whimpered her body growing limp against him, she feeling as though her limbs were made of jello as her orgasm tapered off.

She wrapped her arms around him, her body feeling too spent to bounce on him with as much enthusiasm as she’d previously had.

He kept his hands on her hips rocking her against him as he fucked up into her his voice needy his accent deepinging all the more. “Yer such a good girl, Yer going to make Daddy cum.”

She whimpered the words making a pleased shudder wash over her, she spoke her voice quivering her clit aching her body feeling oversensitve the movement in her almost too much. “Please, do it. Cum for me.”

She ran her hands through his hair gripping onto the back of his head forcing him to stare into her eyes as she spoke. “Please, Daddy.”

He groaned losing it at the words his hips moving at a frenzied pace his balls throbbing as he found his release. He felt himself fall over the edge shockwaves of pleasure washing over him. 

He felt almost intoxicated at the sensation, his cock twitching as he spilled ropes of hot cum into her; she feeling him pulse inside of her a sense of warmth washing over her.

He murmured words of praise, his voice low and pleased. “That’s my girl, such a good girl fer me. Shite, Love. Jus what I needed.”

He sunk against the headboard, his own body feeling heavy and spent as the last of his release spilled into her.

She stroked his hair, his hands caressing her body as they both panted against one another. 

He whined as his cock softened feeling oversensitve as she reluctantly pulled up off him not moving her body back from his wanting to remain pressed close to him.

He pressed his lips lazily against her skin his voice low and drowsy. “Love ye, Lass. Such a perfect love. Makin me feel so good.”

She pressed her lips against his her voice soft. “Love you too Filip.”

He spoke his voice teasing daring to gaze up at her the look on his face easily described as lovesick. “Did Daddy make ye feel good?”

She rolled her eyes a huff leaving her knowing that this newfound kink was not going anywhere any time soon. 

She pressed her lips to his deciding to embrace it. “So good Daddy.”

Her lips left his she burying her face against his neck feeling adored and protected against him. 

He smiled holding on to her hand undeniable sense of comfort washing over him. He stroked her skin a soft content sigh leaving him

He had never anticipated that a man like him would be allowed such sweetness, but he knew he would do whatever it took to keep it in his life.

[lafiametta]

Like the way the theme of myth and story wove itself through the previous episode, this week's episode features the idea of loyalty, what it means, and what it costs.

John Blackthorne's loyalty is split between the men of the Erasmus, long held in Edo, and Toranaga, the lord who has made him his vassal and bannerman. Both still bind him at the beginning of the episode — he accompanies Toranaga's limping army to Edo, despite his bitter proclamation at the end of the previous episode that they're "all dead" — but by the mid-point those ties have begun to fray. Toranaga keeps him at arm's length, not offering him residence inside the castle, and his men, so long sought-after, have spent the past months drinking and whoring, and despise him for his ambition in sailing them to Japan. (Here Blackthorne claims loyalty once more; "we had orders" to cross the ocean, he tells his crewmate, although with less conviction than he normally offers.) With both recipients of his loyalty indicating that they care little for it, his sense of duty turns inward, as he thinks about how he might best serve himself.

That attempt leads him to Yabushige, who at times during their audience seems tempted by Blackthorne's offer of alliance. But the presence of Omi and Mariko are sufficient to remind him that to agree would be a betrayal of his oath to Toranaga. Mariko is offended enough to censure Blackthorne. "You see, once loyalty begins, it does not have an end. Otherwise it would not be loyalty," she tells him. "But loyal turns senseless very quickly when the order is suicide," he replies, which she takes as a personal rebuke.

In a way, he's right. Mariko's loyalty is blind; she will follow Toranaga's will, even if it means her own death. Perhaps maintaining that loyalty is easier for her, given that she already wants to die. (That desire, of course, comes from a sense of loyalty to her own father, a self-sacrificial duty she has carried for nearly fourteen years.) But her uncompromising loyalty does not extend universally: she is dutiful to Buntaro as a husband, keeping away from Blackthorne's bed and remaining silent when he asks if she is "still under the Anjin's spell," but disdainful of him as a man, rejecting his plan for the two of them to die together. Once broken, some ties can never be remade.

Other examples of loyalty appear throughout the episode. Ishido asks for Lady Ochiba's hand in marriage, but she hesitates, knowing that loyalty to him as a husband would mean something far weightier than loyalty to him as a political ally. Out of lordly duty, Toranaga keeps his promises to Gin and Father Alvito, granting them both land in his city of Edo. (Although, with a dash of brilliant irony, the plots are adjoining, putting the brothel next door to the church.)

But undoubtedly the greatest act of loyalty — one that is neither blind nor opportunistic — belongs to Hiromatsu. The only one who Toranaga trusts with the outline of his plan, Hiromatsu must playact at protest in front of the assembled retainers, but the sacrifice he makes to convince them of Toranaga's determination to surrender is viscerally real. The words they volley back and forth speak of loyalty and duty ("Lord! Your vassal dies in vain!"), but it is the last thing Hiromatsu says to his friend — "Then this is farewell" — that is spoken without a hint of artifice. The retainers' initial frustration — how do you remain loyal to someone who has seemingly abandoned their responsibility to you and to themselves? — soon turns to horror in the face of what is being acted out in front of them, all part of Toranaga's larger plan. And Toranaga can only watch as Hiromatsu disembowels himself, even as he understands the necessity of the act. As he tells Mariko later, "Hiromatsu, my old friend, knew his duty well."

As for Toranaga, his true loyalties — like his secret, third heart — have not always been easy to discern. But by the end of this episode, it is clear that he remains loyal to the memories of his son and his friend. Their sacrifices, like their continued belief in him, will not have been in vain.

[mulderscully]

so here we are again, i'm breaking up with doctor who again? and i have a lot of asks about why and i have some asks from people ranting at me because they know me well enough to know why these specials would upset me.

i wanna go over why i'm upset a bit, and i'm gonna do it on main because at the end of the day my tumblr career started here.

as a lot of you may be aware, i have been a huge fan of journey's end and of tentoo for over ten years. my god, i have been in the absolute trenches defending that ending for rose and defending the metacrisis doctor for so long that it's honestly part of who i am.

when rtd was announced to be returning as showrunner i was really excited because i thought he was such a brilliant writer who understood the show and his characters. rtd has always been imperfect, but his original run was about life, death, happiness, pain and how you cannot have one without the other. it was about the human experience and the tragedy of the doctor always being on the outside of that. so close but never having it fully.

that's what made it compelling.

now, i was pretty convinced that the fourteenth doctor was going to be tentoo or that something tentoo related was why that face came back. not just because i wanted it but because it made sense. tentoo is half of the metacrisis, he is why donna lost her memories and the toymaker is a villian who messes with universes for fun! all these pieces fit.

it wasn't primarily about rose because i knew billie wouldn't be in the specials, it was about this making the most sense for donna and for the doctor and their relationship.

my biggest issue now is that... fourteen is not ten. the audience seems to be accepting him as such because that's how he was written, but doing so really undercut a lot of what made the tenth doctor my doctor.

fourteen is not ten, he and donna have not seen each other in years - millions for him, fifteen for her - they are different people. or they SHOULD be. and of course he still loves her, of course of course but it doesn't ring true to me for them to barely address how long they've been apart and act like it's s4 again so rtd can give ten a "happy ending."

i don't even know where to start cause it's all so upsetting. listen, i don't like donna getting her memories back and i know that is unpopular but i feel like that tragedy was so well done that reversing it with a wave of the hand is a travesty. but even if donna had kept her memories, fine! show me her family, show me how she has grown and changed in the life without him and show me how she has grown to love herself and is ready to let ten go so he can let go of the guilt of what he had to do to her. why does donna need to have her own doctor?

in russell's book "the writer's tale" he was ADAMANT about donna NEVER getting her memories back. he was proud, as he should have been, of how painfully he ended s4 because tragedy has value.

the key difference between this and journeys end and giving rose her own doctor is that while rose gets a happy ending, it's tinged with pain and with sacrifice for them all. it comes with a price and that makes it all the more precious. ten and tentoo have always been the same guy with different opportunities and how that affects who we become to me. you remove the tragedy from it and the core falls out and it feels soulless.

sure, rose would be happy that the doctor is happy but i'm sorry this is rose's storyline repackaged and handed to donna and done in a way the audience accepts as "real." which is so fucking mindnumbingly unfair and lazy. to take the doomsday, "one adventure i can never have," which is about rose and giving it to donna is so god damn insulting. it's like donna's popularity as a platonic soulmate to ten has completely overpowered the power of nine and ten's relationship with rose, her family and what they represented for him and that doesn't sit right with me and i'm not ashamed to say it.

and it doesn't even work overall because the doctor settled down with river for 24 years already. like... he already had that adventure in various ways! it's like rtd thought he could pick up in 2008.

this is what he originally wanted to do with journeys end and instead of using what he already had and expanding on it, instead of using how tentoo has been thinking of donna for fifteen years too bc he cost her everything, instead of using their metacrisis to have him absorb his mind, instead of using how they are biologically related he makes a THIRD david tennant doctor? it's perplexing. he could have easily brought tentoo over to the main universe and if he REALLY wanted to had donna and her fam move to pete's world and seal them all away for his soft reboot that way.

now we have two timelord doctors in the main dw verse. why? what's gonna happen to him! what about when donna die? does he become the valeyard? what was the point? HOW does this celebrate 60 years?

but my biggest pain of all has been how this neuters ten and the audience perception of him. i love how rude he was. i love how repressed he was. i love his pain and his sillness. i love how he went mad. i love i don't want to go. i LOVE how hard it was for him because it fucking Meant something. like julie gardner said, the doctor is his most compelling when he has to sacrifice something. i love a happy ending, but i worry we are forgetting the value or something ending painfully and just... ending.

tldr; i have more to say but at the moment i feel like my favorite doctor got erased, like they took all the depth from him and made him happier and easier to digest for comforts sake and it sacrificed his arc and that makes me unhappy.

[asterius-of-crete]

Well, he was certainly confident. And while his sass was a little annoying, Random also found it amusing.

“Yes, let’s go.” Finally.

She grabs his hand tightly, readying herself for the trip home.

How long have I been gone, anyway?

Walking with Asterius is always disorienting for those who are not used to it, and even then. He grips Random's hand tightly, because he doesn't wish to lose her. Even he doesn't know where the people he loses go.

When they finally arrive back on her world, it's dark. He'd made sure of it. Never tell him he doesn't do things for others.

"Here you are," he tells her blithely. "Now, behave, will you? I'd like to find you again, and I'm not keen on finding your ashes." He grins and steps away. If she doesn't say anything, he's going back to Knossos.

[felinecryptid]

hoooooooooo boy, tmagp 4 go-

this time its becoming apparent that there are some themes and clues that tmagp wants us to notice, the sections stand out, begging for attention

like the recurring theme of bones, and blood, and gore in general (it might be too soon to tell exactly what themes are leading to, but they are definitely there)

the violin could fit right in grifter's bone with it's affinity to music and violence

(the music feels aligned to circus over spiral or web

tho there are elements of the web what with the mind control, but i fear all fears possess a certain degree of control, as such

the violence feels more of the slaughter variety rather than the hunt, though you could make a valid argument for flesh as the words 'sacrifice', 'payment' and 'creature with needs and purposes of its own' do stick in mind

once again i do not think that tmagp follows the same format as the smirke's fourteen (or 15) , i merely use them as parallels to better explain what aspects of the episode sticks out to me (and for me refer back later on))

as other listeners have noted, another theme that tmagp in general follows, is 'obsession', rather than tma's 'fear'

i feel this is also paralleling (intentionally or not) the audience's own listening habits and motives

we first consumed the magnus archives for its content of horror

and yet we are back for the magnus protocol like we never left, and perhaps

we never did

the statement's first person pov depicts a truly horrific picture of the slaughter, of the violence that the violin demands

and his descriptions of the mania on the audience's faces too

it's eerily reminiscent of the france's dancing plague

enough about the statement, lets talk about my boy sam and his co-workers, and their workplace in general

there's a protocol surrounding the magnus institute? interesting interesting, very similar to the police division daisy and basira were part of, the unofficial supernatural division

is this like the civil servant version of such?

another thing that is interesting; how is freddy getting these statements incidents? like sam asked, how exactly does a letter from the 18th century end up in the system?

i don't think gwen's answer is satisfactory (and we weren't meant to either), sure someone might be updating the archives website for reasons unknown but rarely in magpod is something a dead end, every little thing is a clue, a small part of the larger picture

so how exactly does a letter from the 18th century is in freddy's system?

perhaps an 'avatar' or the equivalent (such people are suggested to exist in tmagp universe, like the tattooist from daria's statement)

or maybe the fears themselves manifest in phenomena that upload relevant content to freddy

colin my guy, still being iconic and not trusting tech, hats off to you, the only real character in the whole show

never trust any piece of technology older than paper

the video of lena that gwen got in the end? weird? yeah, fuck yes, but how did she even get it? is there any sort of personal communication available on the ancient system? why gwen?

i have so many questions and so many more thoughts, but this is already so long, im gonna write a separate post about tmagp so far, in general

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Hello! I love your blog so so much 💙

Anyways, I was thinking about the ROR fam have child reader suddenly go missing under mysterious circumstances (you choose how) and years later, reader returns and confronts the fam about not saving them all those years ago; like they had given up on reader or something. Maybe even have reader have a permanent scar? I want angst but you can also choose how it ends.

I hope you have an amazing week, and remember to take care of yourself first!

You guys sure like your angst :3

-It started years ago, when you were only a child, when you disappeared. Nobody could find you; the search went on for weeks- months even, but you were never found. It was like you vanished.

-Your massive family, who had adopted you only a year prior, were the ones who refused to give up, even several years after, constantly asking around for you, putting up posters, wanting to find you.

-But as each year passed, their hope dwindled, it seemed impossible.

-Then the impossible happened, a phone call to your family, from the police station, telling them that you had been found- it sounded like a dream- like it couldn’t be true.

-Your family rushed to the police station, hoping this wasn’t a dream and that you were really there!

-When they burst in, there you sat, now several years old, being a teenager, fourteen or fifteen now, with a large scar running across your left eye down your cheek in a diagonal direction.

-While your family seemed elated to see you, you stood, not letting them get close to you, stepping behind the police chief, who looked just as distraught.

-Your family was stunned by your actions, Adam speaking, “Y/N- what- what happened?” your voice was like venom and ice all at the same time as you glared, “Why do you care?”

-Your anger was stunning, like they couldn’t believe it- why were you so angry?!

-You saw their faces and your eyes narrowed, “This guy has been telling me you looked for years for me- but did you? Did you really?”

-Several of them were quick to tell you this was true, that they spent years looking for you, but your eyes just narrowed even more in anger, “Bullshit!”

-The chief put his hand on your head, telling you to calm down as your family was trying to figure out why you were so angry- you were finally home!!

-The police chief was the one who spoke next, “Don’t blame Y/N for their anger- they have every right to be angry.” Hades glared harshly, demanding to know what he meant. The chief honestly looked embarrassed as he sighed, looking back at you, “Y/N was… Y/N was found nearby, under Old Man Jenkin’s farm- he had them locked in a cellar for the past several years. He had it in his head he was protecting a child from the aliens and dark forces of the world. And he believed the search parties were going to sacrifice Y/N to them.”

-Hearing this did not make anything better- that farm was literally only four miles from your home- you were so close this whole time and none of them ever realized it!!

-It was no wonder you were so pissed, you were right there all these years, being put through who knows what kind of mental and emotional torture, and for you to realize how close you had been to home all this time- you felt betrayed.

-Your family felt like they had let you down, many of them instantly blaming themselves for not trying hard enough, for not doing more, for not bringing you home.

-You couldn’t trust them- you wouldn’t trust them. Their little Y/N was gone- and only a bitter and resentful shell of their Y/N was left. They didn’t know what to do to fix things with you- if they even could.

[a-mag-a-day]

The road to the Eyepocolypse was paved with good intentions. Jon's good intentions. Jon breaks that table for Sasha, Jon tries to save the world, Jon sacrifices bits of himself to save someone he doesn't even like, Jon goes into that coffin knowing he'll likely never come out.

Jonah Magnus asks him if he's afraid. Jon says yes. Jon goes into The Lonely to save Martin. And Jonah Magnus has won, and Jon is more scar tissue than skin, and it's fourteen marks and none of them were his fucking fault, he was trying his BEST, he was trying to save Martin, he doing the right thing.

He's doing the right thing. It doesn't matter, right, he hurts people, he doesn't, he saves people, no matter what, it's out of his control, he was doing the right thing and every thing that he did that could be called saving someone is just bringing him one step closer TO THE APOCOLYPSE!!!!

Jonah Magnus is a smug bastard, and the urge to punch, and maim, and kill, grows stronger, and stronger, and stronger.

Days without being sad about Jonathan Jarchivist Sims: 0

[blackfeatherdragon]

YGO Zexal Keyswap AU (AKA an excuse for me to engage in Aztecshipping) (I only thought this out through the WDC arc and even then there's still gaps-)(thanks to my friend usagi for helping me fill in some of these gaps)

(This is a long infodump, look out-)

-While looking for the interdimensional portal, but before adding Kazuma to the team, Byron and Faker made a trip out to a hypothetical location where they thought it would be. Faker didn't find what he was looking for, but Byron did get the Emperor's Key, so that's neat.

-Upon returning home briefly to see his younger sons, Byron gave the Key to Michael, figuring he'd love this kind of artifact.

-(Michael did in fact love it. Little nerd.)

-Byron then returned to his research, and then vanished. Michael and Thomas then end up in the orphanage, with Michael safeguarding what items he has left to remember his father (The Aztec Mask Golem card and the Key).

-Flash forward a few years, Michael is thirteen now, and due to a chain of events I have not worked out yet, the Key is activated and Michael meets Astral.

-(Michael is overjoyed at the interdimensional alien tied to the Key, if a bit annoyed that Astral's amnesiac state means he can't tell him much.)

-Michael also already knows how to play Duel Monsters already, but Astral still tries to backseat duel.

-Insert some Number hunting at the orphanage here. Michael's 'starter' Number is Chronomaly Machu Mech, and the first one he gets off someone else is Shark Drake.

-Eventually, when Michael is fourteen, Christopher/V finally comes back to collect Michael and Thomas from the orphanage. After everyone is reunited at Heartland, Tron performs the rituals to place the crests on Thomas and Michael, then requests that Michael return the Key to him.

-Michael refuses, not willing to sacrifice Astral, and Thomas, realizing that his baby brother and his invisible alien friend aren't safe in this situation, creates an opportunity for Michael to flee by picking a fight with V.

-Michael flees with the Key, only to end up breaking down later because he's now completely separated from his family, so soon after he'd thought he'd have them all back.

-Enter the Tsukumos, who let Michael stay with them for a while while he sorts himself out. He and Yuma start making friends.

-Michael is also encouraged to start attending school due to his age, and he tests into the first year of junior high despite being old enough for second year. This means he's now in the same year as Shark and Rio. This won't be awkward-

--Oh, wait, the whole situation with Shark, Rio, and IV happens. Things get awkward with Shark and Michael having to share a class, especially since Michael can't ask his brother what happened.

-Michael also continues Number hunting, though he's now racing his own brothers and Kaito for Numbers.

-Meanwhile, Yuma has also been getting inexplicably better at duelling? Despite not having Astral to help him? Odd, but okay.

-We finally catch up to where the series would have started. Michael is now fifteen and in second year of junior high, and Yuma has started at junior high as a first year. Finally, Michael and Yuma can be at the same school-

-Yuma also starts getting a bit concerned about the Key and Astral, but doesn't say much about why.

-Number hunting continues. Kaito has a WTF moment when he realizes that the guy scrambling for Numbers is Chris's younger brother

-WDC starts! Michael gets himself entered just fine, Yuma is also remarkably on the ball with entering!

-Michael and IV have at least one run in, then late on the second day Yuma and Michael witness V kidnapping Haruto. Michael only admits that the kidnapper was Christopher before he uses his crest to warp back to the Arclight family hideout in hopes of talking them down.

-But...Yuma is here. Wasn't he with Kaito a moment ago?

-Yeah. About that. Tron didn't like losing a pawn when Michael fled, and decided to just manipulate a new pawn instead of deal with an unwilling participant. And wouldn't you know it, Yuma happened to lose his father to Faker's betrayal, desperately wants to duel, and is kind of gullible, so Tron decided he'd make a good enough target, so long as he doesn't find out about the depths of the plan.

-Yuma got to learn to duel, is promised he'd find out more about what happened to his father, pretty much everything he wanted. Tron also convinces Yuma that the Key is influencing Michael like what the Numbers do to most people, so Yuma is convinced that he needs to help Michael by getting the Key.

-(The only thing keeping Yuma from just grabbing the Key sooner is the fact that Michael keeps it physically on his person as much as humanly possible, a habit picked up in the orphanage since leaving your stuff laying around there was a good way to get your stuff stolen.)

-How did Yuma get there before Michael did? Turns out, Tron decided to crest Yuma too, on the promise that it would let him control Numbers safely and protect him from having his soul taken by people like Kaito. Which was true, but conveniently left out what would happen if he lost while controlling a Number.

-In any case, Yuma, IV, and Michael all spend several minutes trying to convince each other to leave and back down before Kaito finally shows up via Orbital hangglider and forces a duel

-Insert Michael and Kaito VS IV and Yuma duel here. Yuma's signature Number is, of course, Hope.

-Duel ends, IV and Yuma flee, Haruto is returned with Yuma never being told what Tron wanted with Haruto in the first place. Tron claims his plan was simply to try and lure in Faker.

-Michael and Astral are horrified at finding out about Yuma, and end up sheltering with Shark for the night instead of returning to the Tsukumos. It's a good opportunity for Michael to talk to his classmate about what's happening/ask Shark about his interactions with IV and Yuma.

-(Shark got Leviathan Dragon instead of Shark Drake BTW. Michael still has Shark Drake, and IV was tasked with delivering Leviathan Dragon since Yuma wouldn't have wanted to hurt Shark.)

-The next day, Yuma contacts Michael and asks to talk. Talking turns into Yuma trying to get the Key in an attempt to save Michael from its assumed influence, which leads to a duel.

-Yuma finally tells Michael what Tron's been telling him and how he just wants to help/find out what happened to his father, Michael in turn tells Yuma the truth about what Tron wants/what the crest will do if Yuma loses while powerful Numbers are in play.

-They then find a way to loophole the duel's end so no one goes comatose, probably by having Yuma replace Hope with a Number not powerful enough to trip the crest.

-Flash forward a bit to the finals! Michael ends up having to face IV during the course of the finals, during which Tron taunts both of them at once. Michael wins, but is upset knowing his brother will go comatose.

-IV's last message to Michael before leaving is to tell him to keep going.

-IV: "Give Tron hell, Michael, Astral."

-Yuma saves Shark from Tron's influence as per canon, thus revealing that he's defected from Tron's side and knows what's truly up. (Tron's intention was for Shark to beat Yuma and let Yuma be cast aside once his role was done.)

-Michael and Yuma end up facing off one more time before the final. No playing around or loopholes this time, winner faces Tron and they both know it.

-Michael wins, and ends up crying as Yuma goes comatose as a result. However, Yuma does give Michael two new cards before slipping under: his signature monster, Hope, and Chronomaly Atlandis.

-Finally, Michael faces Tron and he's not happy. His brothers and Yuma are in comas, so many people have been hurt by Tron's scheming, and all Michael ever wanted was to have his family back.

-They duel. It's a mess, with Tron and Michael both giving their all, and culminates with Michael and Astral going Zexal.

-(Their Zexal form takes a lot of visual cues from Michael's gladiator outfit from the canon Yuma vs Michael duel, btw.)

-Michael wins, and when Faker takes all the Numbers, Michael attempts to save his father from being dragged in.

-Tron, realizing how far he's gone, releases all the affected souls and lets go of Michael, letting himself be dragged in to at least let Michael live.

-Seeing his father be taken away by Faker for a second time utterly breaks Michael. He decides to enact vengeance on Faker himself, storming off to the tower in a fit of rage, only to be intercepted by Yuma.

-After the breakdown plays out, the two decide to go in together to face Faker.

-Shark and Kaito end up turning up too, with the four all tag teaming against Faker.

-The gang wins, enter the second half of the series with the Barians. The only thing I have planned for the back half so far is Alito shows up and starts trying to flirt with Yuma, resulting in Michael getting jealous for 'some reason'. (He is oblivious to just how he feels about Yuma.)

[thisgirlwhomustnotbenamed]

MC on Philos and MC on Earth being one person in Xavier's storyline

This is my theory about MC on Philos and MC on Earth being one person in Xavier's storyline.

First, let's briefly talk about the timeline in Xavier's myth.

According to what everyone knows and the information I gathered, MC and Xavier first met at the academy on the planet Philos. The year was 214. Two hundred and fourteen years had passed since Philos was born. That also means 214 years have passed since the Earth collapsed.

Humans have replaced Earth's exhausting core with a powerful artificial core. This core holds the fragmented lands together, preventing them from dispersing into the starry sea. So, aside from more dust, cloudier days, and cumbersome travel between tectonic plates, planet Philos isn't much different from the Earth in the past.

Yes, so Philos could be Earth in the future. It is divided into continental plates and needs an artificial core to prevent the planet from breaking into many different plates.

They met, got acquainted and developed feelings for each other. Unfortunately, in her first life, MC had a heart disease and had to stay in the hospital to di***e slowly.

In the last moments of her life, MC got out of the hospital to go stargazing, wanting to fulfill her final promise to Xavier. At this time he also returned, covered in injuries, holding an energy core in his hand that he wanted to give to MC. If nothing changes, then the Aether core is currently in her heart.

MC is so weak now that she can't hold on anymore. She asked Xavier to return the core to its original place and then passed away in his arms. I don't know if Xavier later attached the Aether core to her, but MC was reincarnated with it.

In her second life, MC studied at the same academy as Xavier. He is now the crown prince. MC is trained to become a royal knight, become the king's sword and is loyal to him until de***ath.

This time, Xavier discovered Philos' terrifying secret. The artificial core has long been exhausted. So the royal family sent Lightseeker knights to the Starfall forest to feed the planet. On the surface, it was to destroy Wanderer, but in reality it was to replenish Philos's lacking energy source.

Because of this event that Xavier decided to give up the throne. He can’t sit on a throne made from his people’s fle***sh and blo***od. Especially when the royal family decided to sacrifice MC to become an endless source of energy for the planet because she has the ability to reborn over and over again. Probably due to the Aether core in her heart.

Xavier's ideal is to save everyone, not most people. He founded the Backtracker, finding a way back to the past to find an energy core for Philos. At the same time, let MC become queen so she can manage the situation in Philos and protect herself.

There are many theories that MC on Earth and MC on Philos are two different people. And MC on Philos is still waiting for Xavier to return. But I don't think so.

First, we have to mention the Backtracker. Xavier's first purpose for founding the team seems very noble. So he must find friends and teammates who also share the same ideals, justice, kindness, or at least are trustworthy enough to carry out the mission. If MC's secret is exposed, it will be very dangerous for her to be on her own.

Then why in chapter 2 of Anecdotes and chapter 8 of the main story, did he ki***ll his friends and teammates? It could only be because they have fallen, no longer want to follow Xavier's ideals, and turned into enemies wanting to ha****rm MC.

Maybe when they were initially stuck on Earth in the past, they still had the rationality to find a peaceful solution. But over time, sensing that this universe would wipe out outsiders and Philos's slow de****ath in the distance, many Backtracker teammates became desperate.

After all, it is easier to sacrifice a single person than to risk the lives of many people into an unknown future. So they chose to confront Xavier, regardless to the point that they didn't even care about their lives. They couldn’t stand a chance against Xavier, yet they tried to fight him anyway.

If people who were far away from Philos are that desperate, what will happen with MC who chooses to stay in Philos and witness with her own eyes that it is about to fall into destruction?

I feel there are two possibilities.

One is the MC, as the queen of Philos, could no longer sit still and wait to di***e, so she carried out a mission herself. She wants to travel to Earth in the past to get the energy core for Philos. Xavier mentioned Traceback 2, right? If there is 2, which means there must be 1. Maybe MC drove Traceback 1 and then got sucked into a black hole and got stuck on Earth in the past

Second, MC returned to the past with Xavier on the Traceback 2. But something went wrong midway and the two were separated.

MC's return to the past through the Deepspace tunnel was mentioned through Noah's words. Noah once said that there was a problem with space travel called slipspace during the Backtrack. The spaceship couldn’t handle the fluctuations of the Deepspace tunnel.

Noah then continued to say that MC and the Aether core had vanished, most likely dissolved into cosmic dust. Only Noah would say that after she went through the Deepspace tunnel and having an accident. He wouldn’t just mention it out of nowhere:)

Also, do you know what will happen if you fall into a black hole? According to the most reasonable theories, it would be a painful “spaghettification" de***ath. In spaghettification, the intense gravity of the black hole would pull you apart, separating your bones, muscles, sinews, molecules, and even smaller, an atoms.

In Xavier's Shinning traces card, he said this: "Humans will eventually turn to dust, each person will become an insignificant atom in the universe. But atoms can never be destroyed. One day we will meet again under the stars."

Makes me wonder if he's hinting at a reunion between them? He never believed that she is gone. Her soul, her atom won’t be destroyed. Xavier just need to find her.

MC was pulled apart and di***ed in the Deepspace tunnel. But due to the distortion of space and time, instead of being reincarnated to Philos like before, she was reincarnated to Earth in the past. Explaining how she was once a child, lost her memories and grew up as a normal person.

The second thing is Jeremiah's attitude when he saw MC. If she was just a substitute, would he accidentally say: "Long time no see..."?

Apparently Jeremiah also considered Earth MC to be Philos MC. When he could help her, he said: “I just never thought I’d actually able to help you.” In this statement I feel intimacy, respect and a little guilt. Perhaps Jeremiah was always worried about the fact that he couldn't help MC much while in Philos.