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eclecticpatrolroadlawyer · 1 year

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Illicit affairs (chapter 1)

Summary: Bucky and Y/n are in arranged marriage. Bucky is having an affair. This is all it is about... Let's see where Y/n's fate lies... Should we?

Pairings: Bucky x reader, Bucky x Dot ...

Genre: angst, affair, unrequited love

'Love' The word floats between all of us on a soft gust of air. 'Deep, abiding, unconditional love. You want it so much you're willing to live for it' Most people think the greatest sacrifice they can make is to die for something. They are wrong.

The truest act of love someone can make is to live for something- to allow it to consume you and turn you into a version of yourself you never recognize.

It is a tale of 4 souls twisted and helpless in their love lives. It is a narrative that contains some heartbreaks, the bitter taste of unreciprocated affection, and one that dared not to unveil itself- which takes courage to love for so long from a distance.

This is a story where one soul offered everything at love's altar, a vulnerable sacrifice, while another callously exploited that very vulnerability, sowing discord where passion once blossomed...

Y/n's pov

The room feels colder than usual as I stare out the window, my heart sinking with every passing minute. The anticipation is suffocating, and my patience wears thin. "Again," I whisper, the word heavy with disappointment.

I watch the street below, searching for a familiar figure that is yet to appear. The seconds drag on, and my anxiety intensifies. The lump in my throat grows, making it harder to swallow. A sigh escapes me, a mixture of frustration and hurt.

"He is late again."

I can't help but clench my fists on the curtains, the fabric bunching in my grip. The emptiness in the room echoes the ache in my chest. Tears threaten to spill, and I fight to hold them back. I bite my tongue, tasting the metallic tang of frustration as I try to steady my trembling emotions.

I force myself to look away from the window, taking in shaky breaths to regain composure. Each breath feels like a struggle, a battle against the rising tide of disappointment. I look up, my eyes blurred with unshed tears, and will myself to find strength.

Deep breaths. In and out.

I wrestle with my emotions, fighting the urge to crumble. It's a lonely battle, and the weight of unspoken words hangs heavy in the air. The silence is deafening, broken only by the echoes of my own heartbeat.

half an hour later

The sound of the door knob rattling pulls me from my thoughts, and I turn to see him entering, supposedly from his so-called 'jogging' session. His disheveled hair and the hickey marks on his neck don't escape my notice, but I keep my gaze down, focusing on chopping the ingredients for breakfast. The rhythmic slicing helps channel my frustration into the task.

Silence hangs in the air, heavy with unspoken words and the weight of disappointment. I clench my jaw, determined not to let the emotions bubbling within me overflow. Why me, I wonder.

I put on a fake smile, a mask to conceal the turmoil beneath the surface. Breaking the tense quiet, I decide to confront the reality before me, choosing words carefully as I break the uneasy silence.

"How was it?"

The question hangs in the air as I continue chopping, my hands steady despite the storm raging inside me. The tension is heavy as I await his response.

He seems startled, caught off guard by the unexpected interruption to your silence. Nervously, he stammers a response.

"Huh? W-What?"

"Jogging... You went jogging, right?" I press, my eyes focused on the task at hand, but my peripheral vision catches his every move. I put down the knife, turning to face him with a fake smile plastered on my face.

"Oh, jogging... Yes, jogging... Yeah, it was good... good," he replies, the words rushed and accompanied by a forced smile. The tension lingers, hanging in the air like an unspoken truth, and I maintain my fake smile, masking the hurt that hides beneath the surface.

The question hangs in the air, a carefully veiled inquiry concealing the knowledge I already possess. "Bucky," I murmur, the weight of the question palpable in the room. "how many years has it been since our arranged union? One or two?" I lock eyes with him, searching for a flicker of guilt, a hint that he might confess to the secrets he thinks are well hidden.

The room feels heavy with the unspoken truth as I press on, my voice carrying a subtle undercurrent of accusation. "You would never hurt me, right?" I ask, knowing the answer even before the words leave my lips. His eyes betray a hint of unease, a fleeting glimpse of a man caught in his own web of betrayal.

I turn my attention to the task at hand, my fingers gripping the edge of the counter as I continue, "It's just, sometimes I wonder about our arranged marriage. Do you?" My words linger in the air, a calculated challenge, as I maintain a facade of innocence, masking the storm of emotions that swirl within me.

Bucky shifts uncomfortably under the weight of my penetrating gaze, his eyes momentarily faltering before regaining composure. "Uh, yeah, it's been two years," he answers, attempting to sound nonchalant. His attempt at a casual demeanor betrays a hint of unease, a subtle acknowledgment that he senses the underlying tension.

I maintain my facade, the corners of my lips twitching into a semblance of a smile. "And you'd never hurt me, right?" I press further, watching for any subtle changes in his expression. Bucky hesitates, a fleeting moment where the truth seems to hang in the air. "Of course not," he replies, the words lacking the conviction they once held.

As I turn back to my task, the air between us crackles with unspoken truths and concealed betrayals, creating a rift that neither of us dares to bridge.

Bucky's POV

Bucky's response hangs in the air, a weight on his conscience that he can't shake off. As I turn away, the guilt tightens in his stomach. He can't escape the unease, knowing he's betraying not just the arrangement but the person at the center of it.

He sighs, heavy with remorse, as he heads for the bathroom. The sound of running water becomes a feeble attempt to drown out the turmoil in his mind. Bucky leans against the cool tiles, steam clouding the mirror, mirroring the fog in his thoughts.

"What have I done?" he whispers, the weight settling in his stomach. The jog's facade crumbles, revealing the truth of his choices. The affair, the lies—it's a web tightening around him, and he's not sure how to break free without causing irreparable damage.

Under the shower's cold stream, Bucky stands, his hand braced against the tiles. The water pounds against him, a feeble attempt to wash away the guilt. As each droplet falls, he confronts the consequences of his actions. The arranged marriage, once a distant pact, now feels shattered. Bucky closes his eyes, trying to block out the guilt threatening to consume him. In the cascade of water, he faces the mess he's made, uncertain if there's any way to salvage the delicate threads holding their union together.

The cold shower beats against Bucky, a stark contrast to the heat of his thoughts. His hand tightens on the tiles as he battles the storm inside. The water's steady drumming echoes his emotions, a chaotic mix of regret and confusion.

"What am I doing?" he mutters, the words lost in the shower's noise. The images of his mistakes play on a loop in his mind—the marks on the neck, the messed-up sheets. It's a vivid reminder of betrayal.

The truth is undeniable. The affair breaks trust, a breach of the commitment he made, even if reluctantly, in this arranged marriage. As the water rushes over him, Bucky tries to wash away not just the physical traces but the guilt staining his conscience.

The fogged-up mirror reflects a man in conflict. His guilty eyes meet their own gaze, and for a moment, he doesn't recognize himself.

"What have I become?" The question lingers, unanswered, as he stands beneath the unrelenting water. The bathroom isn't a refuge; it amplifies the loneliness. Bucky is stuck in a silent struggle, torn between duty and desire, unsure if he can find a way out without leaving everything shattered behind.

Dot's POV

(girl with whom Bucky is cheating with)

"He is gone again," I murmur to myself, my gaze fixed on the fan dangling from the ceiling. The bed beside me feels emptier than usual, a constant reminder of his absence. The weight of silence settles in the room, and once again, I find myself engulfed in loneliness...

Every day, it's the same struggle. A battle between the promise I make to myself and the undeniable pull he has on me. "Every time... every day. I let him in," I admit in the quiet of my thoughts. The bed, cold and untouched, bears witness to my internal conflict. It's a routine of surrendering to a love that should never have blossomed.

"I can always stop," I tell myself daily, a mantra of resistance that crumbles with each passing moment. The realization hits hard — I'm ruining myself for him. The weight of guilt presses down as I acknowledge the gravity of my actions.

"I am so bad," I confess silently, my heart heavy with self-loathing. I'm entangled in an affair with a married man who has a loving wife. The reality of my choices echoes in the hollow spaces of the room. "I'm so sorry," I whisper to no one but myself, a futile apology to the shadows that witness my moral descent.

"I hate myself... I hate it," the thought echoes, a painful admission of the self-destructive path I tread. Love, tangled with regret, becomes a poison that seeps into every corner of my being. Yet, despite the self-flagellation, the ache for him lingers, a bittersweet melody that refuses to be silenced.

The room, my safe place, now shows the mess inside me. I turn from the fan's spin, lost in the shadows. The secret love has left marks, stains that no apology can wipe away. As I try to understand this mess of feelings, I wonder if I can ever fix the pieces of my self-respect that have shattered.

The words slip out in a hushed murmur, barely audible in the quiet room. "I am sorry." The weight of the apology hangs in the air, a fragile attempt to mend the fractures that linger between us. It's a simple phrase, but it carries the echoes of regret and a longing for forgiveness. The weight of regret settles in, and I can't help but wonder if these simple words will ever be enough to mend the fractures I've created.

The illicit affair has left its mark, a stain that no amount of whispered apologies can erase. As I search through the wreckage of my emotions, I'm left to wonder if the fragments of my self-respect can ever be pieced back together.

Not everyone gets the same version of me.

One person might tell you I'm an amazing beautiful soul.

Another person will say I'm a coldhearted bitch.

Believe them both, I act accordingly.

-love

Chapter 2

Note: Hey guys! Hope you like it. English is actually my second language so if there's any mistake you can inform me by messaging me privately. And PLEASE REBLOG AND DON'T STEAL MY WORK. Please like and comment too so, that I can know your views. Thank you for reading guys! Have a nice day and please comment if you wanna be tagged in.

Taglist: @angstysebfan @cjand10 @learisa @themorningsunshine @binkszamsstuff @dreamerglassesgirl @winterslove1917 @perfectpieslimeprune @nikkivillar @bethexo07

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happyhauntt · 6 months

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give your tears to the tide — nikolai lantsov.

series masterlist | writing masterlist | askbox

─── summary: now that he knows, nikolai lantsov is the only soul in the world aware of the truth at the heart of her. for better or worse.

─── pairing: nikolai lantsov & anya kamenev (original character.)

─── warnings: sexual assault tw! (off-screen, not descriptive), serious angst, character death (minor character), manslaughter, mentions of the army (in a canon context). this one's a lil dark. hurt/comfort. trauma. nikolai learns that anya is grisha except it's in the worst way possible and he behaves like a fucking king. threats of violence. i realise this plot would've been a lot more believable if anya were a heartrender or squaller but i fully believe in my heart that she's a tidemaker so suspend your belief for five minutes pls and thank you.

─── word count: 2.8k.

─── taglist: @naushtheaspiringauthor / @a-taken-url / if you'd like to be added to the taglist let me know!

There's a body in the corner and the stable floor is soaked through with water. It seeps through the fabric of her army-issue trousers, clinging and cold, but Anya can hardly feel it. The ground is hard beneath her, but still she sits, with her knees pulled up to her chest, and she watches. She waits. She prays to Saints she doesn't really believe in that the body in the corner will twitch, or breathe, or something.

But it doesn't, and it won't, and there's no Saint in the world that can save her now.

That's how Nikolai finds her. Not long after curfew, when she didn't check in with their commanding officer before dinner, he'd known something was off. In all the months he has served with her in their unit, he cannot recall a time when she was late for anything. Nikolai didn't think she was even capable of such a thing, really, so he'd asked Dominik to cover for them and slipped off to look for her as everyone got ready for bed.

He checks the gardens first. More often than not, he'll find Anya laying on a bedroll beside her tent, watching the sun set over the horizon. She'd count the stars as they came into view and once, when she'd been feeling particularly tolerant, she'd even invited him to sit with her so they could point out constellations. It is a rare day when he doesn't set her teeth on edge, so he'd joined her eagerly and listened, enraptured, as she told him all about the stars and their stories.

Those same stars glitter overhead now, winking mockingly at him, but there is no one to be found in the gardens. The estate their unit is staying at on their way north belongs to some baron whose name Nikolai doesn’t care to remember, and it isn't too large, but even so, he checks the gardens again.

Just in case.

Nikolai sighs to himself, unable to think of where she might be, before he notices a light in the distance. Everyone else has gone to bed, and the officers are drinking and playing cards in the drawing room, so why would there be anyone in the stables this late? Why would Anya be there?

He doesn't dwell on the thought for longer than a moment. If it is her, then his worries will ease, and that's enough to send him striding down the dirt track that leads to the stables.

As he nears, the ground beneath his feet grows soggy with muck. An odd trickling sound catches his attention, and when he squints into the dark, he notices a small stream of water escaping through a crack in the doorway.

Nikolai pushes the unlocked door open, wincing as the hinges shriek. One of the horses chuffs at the sudden sound, but otherwise the room remains silent as a grave. The sudden draft makes the lantern flicker where it hangs from its hook, and as his eyes adjust to the dim light, he realises that he is not alone in the stable.

"Anya?" Even though his voice is little more than a murmur, it still feels too loud. The sound of it rattles off the walls, and he can't help but flinch, but the girl curled up on the floor doesn't move. Doesn't raise her head, or even really seem to breathe.

He creeps closer. Dread settles over him like a burial shroud. Old bits of hay crunch beneath his feet and the lantern spits, but the pit in his stomach only grows as he takes in Anya's appearance.

Her hair straggles around her face in limp, damp strands. When Nikolai last saw her, it had been neatly braided and pinned, but now honey-coloured strands hang loose and messy. Her skin is damp, too, and pale. So pale, white as a corpse, and a flash of panic rolls through him.

"Anya, come on." He kneels on the ground beside her. Cold, dirty water seeps into the knees of his trousers. He reaches out with gentle hands, but doesn't touch her. They merely hover above her shoulders, as if to offer comfort he isn't sure she'll accept. Not from him. "What are you doing out here? You're soaked, and it's freezing. Let's get you inside before you get ill."

Anya doesn't look at him. Her stare is fixed, unwavering, on a dark corner of the stables. There's something hollow and hopeless about them that makes him feel sick.

A long moment passes, and then— "I didn't mean to."

He doesn't think he's ever heard her sound like this before. Doesn't think he's heard anyone sound like this before. "What? Anya, what are you talking about?"

"I didn't mean to." Her voice is brittle. The words are shards of broken glass on her tongue. Every one of them slices her open. Makes her bleed. "I... It was an accident. I didn't... I swear, I didn't even..."

She wavers at the end, trailing off into a heavy silence. When she looks at him then, eyes so wide and frightened, Nikolai swears his heart grinds to a halt. That look cuts him deeper than any blade ever could.

"Anya." Concern wavers in the depths of his eyes, and finally he reaches out to touch her. Gentle hands clasp her shoulders. She's so cold. He wonders how long she's been sitting out here. "What happened? Where did all this water come from?"

Anya swallows roughly. Her lower lip quivers. Every part of him wants to hold her close, as if that will chase away all her demons, but he knows she won’t allow it. "Me. Or... him, maybe. I don't know. I didn't mean to do it, I just—"

A choked sob cuts her off, and Anya buries her face in her hands. There's no doubt that she probably wishes anyone else had found her out here, rather than the boy who teases and goads her relentlessly. She doesn't even like him, really.

Yet he's the one who noticed she was missing.

"Anya. Nastya, look at me." The childhood nickname falls from his tongue before he can stop it, and he squeezes her shoulders once, a little too harshly, to pull her focus back. "Tell me what happened."

"I came down to check on the horses. Maksim asked to swap duties with me so he could run into town and post a letter to his mother." Anya's hands begin to shake violently. She curls them into fists and presses them hard against her thighs to make them stop. "I was just finishing up when— Fuck, I don't even know him. He was only just assigned to our regiment. Lenkov, I think? Saints, I killed him and I don't even remember his name." She manages a short, sharp laugh. She almost sounds hysterical.

"Anya." A sudden chill sweeps over Nikolai, as if someone dumped a bucket of ice over his head.

Anya shakes her head. "I didn't even notice he was in here. And then he— he grabbed me, and he put his hand around my throat and shoved me up against the wall and told me to shut up even though I wasn't even screaming, I couldn't scream, I couldn't— And he started pulling at my shirt, and I didn't even think, I just did it. I remembered seeing them do it, the hand gestures, I didn't even know what they meant, I just wanted him to get off me."

A thousand thoughts sweep through him all at once, but the only thing Nikolai cares about is the tremor in Anya’s voice, the shaking of her hands as she gestures to the corner. He sees the body slumped over in a puddle. Bits of straw stick to the fabric of his uniform. The familiar emblem of Ravka winks back at Nikolai, as if the double eagle is sneering at him, but there is nothing here to be ashamed of.

"Can you stand?" he asks.

She looks up at him sharply. "What? Nikolai, I just told you—"

"Can you stand, Anya?" Her name sits like a lead weight on his tongue. He says it firmly, harsher than he wants to be, but there's a manic look in her eye he's never seen before. Not on her. He needs to keep her attention, her focus, away from the body in the corner. Away from the blood on her hands.

She nods, once. "I think so."

"Alright." Nikolai pushes himself up from the ground, and tries not to shiver at the way his damp trousers stick to his skin. The beginnings of a plan begin to formulate in his mind, and when Anya looks him in the eye, the certainty she finds there begins to set her at ease. "You're going to go back to the manor. Sneak in through the side entrance. Make sure nobody sees you. Go to the library. It should be empty. I'll meet you there in an hour."

"Nikolai."

"Go, Anya." They're not friends. She's made that abundantly clear so many times these last few months, but the way she's looking at him now, with her heart split wide open, makes him want to hold her tight and never let go. "I'll deal with this."

And somehow, because she trusts him — Saints, she cannot believe she actually trusts him — she forces her stiff limbs to carry her out of the door and away from the chaos she caused.

When she dares to cast a glance back of her shoulder, she finds the dim light extinguished, flooding the stables with shadows.

An oil lamp flickers on the table, dim enough that it won't cast any light beneath the door, and Anya has to squint in order to decipher the look on Nikolai's face when he sneaks into the library nearly an hour later.

A deep frown has etched itself into his features, and Anya’s chest seizes at the sight of it. She cannot recall a day in her life where Nikolai wasn’t smiling. There are lines carved on each side of his mouth, even at the age of sixteen, that bear the echo of his good humour.

She cannot stomach that she is the reason for that frown.

He doesn't say anything as he presses a glass bottle into her hands, before settling himself into the low armchair opposite. When she removes the stopper, it smells suspiciously like brandy.

"What have you done with him?"

There are still flecks of dirt stuck beneath Nikolai's fingernails, even though he scrubbed his hands nearly raw in the kitchens just now. Streaks of mud stain the hems of his trousers. A faint scent of soil lingers in the air.

"Do you really want to know?" Nikolai hadn't felt all that terrible as he'd rolled Lenkov's body into a shallow grave at the edge of the property. Perhaps he should have. But every time the guilt tried to creep in, the memory of Anya curled up on the stable floor would flash through his mind, and every shovelful of dirt became a little easier to bear.

Come morning, their superior officer will find a scribbled letter in Lenkov's bunk and assume he is a deserter. The reputation that will earn him is not nearly as bad as he deserves, but it will do. It’s not like he’ll live to harm anyone else.

Nikolai nods at the bottle in her hands. "Drink, Anya."

It's odd, really. Watching her follow instructions. His instructions, at least. Nikolai is used to her battling him. More often than not, his remarks are usually met with a snarky retort or an outright insult.

As her lips close around the bottle and she swallows a sip of the brandy he stole, he decides he doesn't like her silent. He doesn't like it at all.

When she's done, she holds the bottle out towards him like a peace offering. He takes his own long swallow of brandy and relishes the burn as it slides down his throat.

"Why did you help me?" Anya’s voice wavers as she speaks, though she tries her best to steady it. In this light, Nikolai cannot quite see her expression, but he knows, somehow, that she's frowning. A little dip appearing between her brows. He's so familiar with it, has dreamed of smoothing it over with his thumb until she smiles at him. In his dreams, it’s the sort of smile that could cure any ill in the world.

He chuckles and downs another sip. "Would you prefer I stand silently by as they arrest you? Sit in the crowd at your tribunal? Would you rather I watch as they lead you to the gallows and hang you for murder?"

Her breathing turns ragged. "It wasn't murder—"

"The First Army hates Grisha, Anya." There's no venom in his tone, but she flinches all the same. His eyes soften as he passes the bottle back to her. "You think they'd care if it was an accident? Or self-defence? All they would see is you, a Grisha who hid her powers and infiltrated the ranks of the First Army, killing one of their own. There would be no saving you from that."

The statement hangs in the air between them like a noose. The gas lamp spits and crackles.

"My parents hid it. Not me." She takes a large swig of the brandy and clutches the bottle close to her chest, as if it's a shield. "I was... Saints, maybe eleven, when I started to show. My mother cut my hand when the Grisha testers came so they couldn’t test me.”

Anya’s hand flexes slightly, as if she is even aware she’s doing it. There’s still a thin white scar hidden in the crease of her palm.

“After that,” she says, “my parents stopped bringing me to court. Told everyone that my health was fragile and that I wasn't well enough to travel."

Nikolai nods, humming beneath his breath. He remembers that. One summer Anya was there, screaming through the gardens of the Grand Palace with him and Dominik and some of the other children, and then she was gone. She'd only appear once or twice a year afterwards, at the Winter Fête or his brother’s birthday ball, and her mother would always keep her close by.

"I am my father's heir." Anya swallows roughly. Affection threads through her voice like strands of gold.

Nikolai had met the Duke of Balakirev a few times as a child, and unlike many other nobles rattling around court in Os Alta, he hadn’t found the man to be ridiculous or, worse, intimidating. He recalls an older man, somewhere in his fifties with ruddy cheeks and silver streaking through his hair, but he had kind eyes. That, Nikolai remembers well.

He sees the same soft blue in Anya’s eyes.

Anya’s heart warms at the memory of him. She last saw him just before she enlisted, months ago, and he’d watched her leave with shining eyes and a worried little pout. He’d tried to smile.

He hadn’t wanted her to know he was afraid.

"I’m his only child.” Anya’s lips form a tight line. “And the Grisha testers would have shipped me off to the Little Palace. I'd be lucky to ever see my parents again, Nikolai. Once you are labelled Grisha, it is a brand you bear for life. It becomes the only thing you are, and I... I love my parents for protecting me. I don't practise or train, I don't... I didn't know what I was doing in the stables. I don't know what I was thinking. I just wanted him to stop."

Her voice is quiet, so quiet he can hardly hear her now.

Nikolai wishes Lenkov were still alive, if only so he could rip the man to pieces with his bare hands. A shallow grave isn’t good enough. He should’ve left the body in the woods and let the wolves have him instead.

"I've killed before. We're soldiers. But I never... I didn't mean to..." Anya's voice cracks, and a sob bubbles up in her throat. She presses her palm hard against her mouth, hard enough that her teeth almost pierce the skin, as if that will keep her tears at bay.

Nikolai leans forward. Rests a gentle hand on her knee. She looks at him, eyes glistening with tears. His heart shatters in his chest, and the shards of it dig into his lungs with every breath he takes.

"I won't tell anyone," he says, solemn as the grave. "About what happened, or about you. I swear."

"Thank you."

When daylight comes and Dominik finds them huddled together in a quiet corner of the house, Anya’s head resting against Nikolai’s chest as if the steady rhythm of his heartbeat had soothed her to sleep, he knows something immeasurable has changed between them.

He nudges Nikolai’s foot and quickly ducks out of the room as his friend begins to stir, and he doesn’t know what secret the pair of them share now, but Dominik swears he will take it to the grave, too.

#nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov oc #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov fanfic #fyeahgrishaverseocs #shadow and bone oc #shadow and bone fanfic #* chapter update.#* fic: gold rush.

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jaegonsmoon · 1 year

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I love the fics where the three boys are actually trueborn Valeryon-Targarian boys, like Harwin helps Laenor in the bedroom and such. So, like, it's funny imagining that all three are trueborn but they got Nyra's skin color and Rheanys's hair color like "canon" but have that specific Valeryon birthmark except all 3 have it in a very specific place that you can't see like the inner thigh or midback.

So imagine Alicent still tries to start the rumors that they're bastards till someone mentions the boys birthmark and such or Aegon or Aemond mention the birthmark and now Alicent knows she's in shit bc they're trueborn, genetics are just wild.

Or if we go the a/o/b way Aegon and Aemond are mates with Jace and Luke respectively.

Their pups come out with Laenor's skin tone and now THEY'RE the ones who are being called "whores" and whatever till their fathers show the birthmark that comes from Rheanys side of the fam.

so a while ago I made this one shot on twt bc it was inspired by a word prompt over there, but also very slightly inspired by this ask. I totally forgot to post it but I’m doing so now that I remembered. apologies ik is not what you were asking per se but I wanted to let you know that I read you and thought of you when I wrote the last bits of it :)

[EDIT]

I’m posting the ficlet in your answer now, (honestly should’ve done just that fron the start) since ppl in ao3 are straight up miserable and it’s so discouraging to share anything this days anymore. apologies!!

~say yes to heaven~

Pairing: Aemond/Lucerys

Tags: omega Aemond, alpha Lucerys, married aemond, infidelity, Lord of the Tides Lucerys.

For all his mother tried to presume her children marriages, Aemond led a pretty unhappy life. He was married to an alpha who refused to bond with him and refused to give him children until he’d see it ‘fit’—so naturally, the man was not happy when Aemond finally got pregnant.

It had happened after his monthly trip to King’s Landing, where the family had been summoned to attend royal business. His husband didn’t feel like going at that time, which Aemond was relieved about for once. He cherished the distance between him and his husband whenever it was granted.

Being there surrounded by his family put him at ease, something he never felt back at his husband’s. However, there was something Aemond didn't expect and that was to run into his nephew. Lucerys, to be more specific.

Aemond knew the boy was an alpha, though he’d presented a little late. Right after Aemond’s wedding. He remembers his father’s words when they got the news. “Ah, a pity it was so late. If I could’ve known, it would’ve been the perfect match for Aemond.”

His mother had been scandalised at such suggestion. But at that point, begrudgingly so, Aemond wasn’t. Anything would’ve been better than the deal he had gotten. Even if that meant that he’d be mated to the boy who took his eye and maimed him.

At least he would be bonded.

Lucerys was growing into a fine man. He’d gotten tall and was buffing out a bit. His face remained boyish looking, but he could see the resemblance of Harwin Strong starting to bleed through—but even then, he could see so much of his sister in him, too. He was beautiful, his nephew, there was no point in denying that fact. Joyful and free spirited. He was a prince of the realm and a soon-to-be Lord of the Tides. And Aemond found himself wishing it had really been him. Because even in the remaining bitterness he inevitably still held against his nephew, he could see his gentleness. And perhaps, Aemond, can’t help but delude himself, he could’ve even been happy.

A lot ended up happening on this trip. Aemond’s father, the King, died that week, and everything was a mess. He knew of his grandfather’s displeasure of his sister’s claim to the throne, he knew how he would still try to pull and stir some shit against the rightful heir, despite his mother siding with Rhaenyra. She at last recognised none son of hers had a claim to the throne after Viserys made it clear countless of times.

Aegon was an omega as well, happily mated and married to Jacaerys, they already had three children. He would be Queen consort eventually, that eased their mother a bit. In truth, neither Aemond, Aegon nor Daeron cared for the metal chair. And still—even when some stuff went down, Rhaenyra’s coronation still happened right after Viserys II’s funeral, and everything went according to plan.

Aemond got pissed drunk that day.

Along with Aegon, Jace and Luke who joined them last. Joffrey and Daeron were not here. They were in Essos, studying in the free cities because they were betas and had that kind of freedom. They also had privilege.They missed their mother and sister’s succession because they were too far away to arrive in time. Meanwhile Aemond was stuck, playing the sad, pathetic trophy wife to someone who didn’t even want the trophy. ‘Nor did he fucking deserved it.’ Those had been Luke’s words.

He’d continued to whine and complain about it all, he didn’t care. The drinks kept coming so the more he talked. One thing led to the other and the next thing he knew he was back in his chambers, mouth and body being devoured by his nephew’s perfect mouth. He’d never come so many times in a row. Hell, he had never come by somebody else’s ministrations at all before.

He’d like to say that it was the alcohol that led him to make this disgraceful deed, but it wasn’t. Because it kept happening. Again, and again, and again. And he let his nephew knot him each time. Because Aemond didn’t give a fuck anymore. He was tired of feeling so unwanted. So unloved. Luke made him see stars. He gave him a taste of life in each kiss, in every single touch of his hands and lips. He didn’t care. In fact, he wanted to be so full of his bastard nephew that he would bear him his own bastards.

Luke almost bites him. Multiple times, and Aemond almost let him. He wanted to let him, but he knew better, they both did.

And that’s how Aemond returned to what he was forced to call home. So well fucked and with his bastard nephew’s seed growing inside him.

His husband didn’t notice, why would he? The fool was always drunk out of his mind. When he had questioned Aemond, telling him he couldn’t recall; all he’d say was “You were drunk, dear, it was right before I left.” And they left it at that, his husband threw a fit about this not being the right time, something about how Rhaenyra’s succession had been disgraceful for their business and his house was losing money like crazy. Aemond didn’t care, he didn’t even listen most of the time. All he could feel and think was the life that grew inside his womb every day, and how it was not tainted by that scumbag, but blessed by the fire and blood he and his baby’s true sire shared.

When Aemond had his son, he had him in King’s Landing. He’d spoken to his mother stating his wish and how he wanted good maesters. He didn’t trust anyone in his lord husband’s wretched place. His mother had spoken to his sister and Rhaenyra had gladly accepted, so when there were only two moons before his labours, he moved to the Keep.

The absence of his lord husband was very much felt as the days passed. Aemond sat by one of weirwood trees in the Godswood one afternoon when the Queen approached him. They shared small talk and some sweets she’d summoned for them. Aemond was obsessed with cranberry tarts recently.

She then cornered him. “Tell me brother, how are you, truly?”

The day was sunny and warm, but breezy. Aemond took in a deep breath before he answered his sister-queen.

“As of right now, I am well enough. I like being here, it’s— I feel like it does me good.” He replied sincerely.

Rhaenyra hummed, a gesture that made them so similar at times; she schooled him. “What about your marriage?”

Aemond didn’t catch the way his body tensed in time to mask it, yet his face remained impassive. “What of it?”

“Are you content?”

He pursed his lips and kept quiet, trying to find a way to make it sound the less miserable he could.

“Because if you’re not, all you have to do is ask.” She said after taking his silence for what it was: no.

“Ask?” Aemond winced.

The Queen nodded. “You say the word and I will annul it. There’s no reason for you to be in an uncomfortable or unlovable situation. It’s not benefiting anyone, I don’t need any alliances with your lord husband, he’s not the heir of his house. His brother and father are already sworn to me. As for the child, they’re a Targaryen firstmost, no disgrace will fall upon them, or you, the Queen’s younger brother. Not under my rule.”

Aemond let her words settle, words that filled him with both, relief and dread. It meant the world to him to finally have somebody on his side, to have his back this way, but also that could mean other things. Like a chance to properly be with the one he truly loved. It made him chilly, though, the thought of not being loved the same way in return. The possibilities both scared him and freed him.

“Thank you, your grace.”

Lucerys had come to visit upon learning that Aemond was back in King’s Landing, alone. The alpha flew often from Driftmark.

The second the alpha approached him at night upon his arrival, he'd cornered him, scenting viciously at his neck. “It’s mine, isn’t it?” One of his hands cradled his swollen stomach gently. “I put that baby in your belly?”

Aemond moaned softly, his knees almost giving out.

“Yes,” he’d admitted against his mouth, a private whisper. Then he tried to bite down a smile as he spoke again. “I’m giving you a bastard, bastard.”

Lucerys made sweet, deep love to him that night. It was their truth.

When the baby was born, his husband had been summoned. It was his duty, plus the Queen’s orders. He wasn’t in the birthing room, Dowager Queen Alicent, his mother, was instead.

Aemond birthed a son with violet eyes and soft brown hair that curled at the ends. A curious thing, because his husband was a ginger with icy blue eyes.

But not as curious as the peculiar birthmark the boy carried on one of his little wrists.

“You did well, brother.” Queen Rhaenyra says as she holds her nephew for the first time.

Aemond could only smile a little from where he rested on his bed now. Lucerys was there too, he just arrived quietly. Aemond acknowledged him with a meaningful look.

“How adorable,” Rhaenyra cooed, playing with the newborn baby’s small hand, now tracing the birthmark she noticed there. “You know, Lucerys has the same unique birthmar—” she cut herself off immediately, and the room went tensely quiet.

#I think I have mentioned thid os before so here it is!#lucemond bastard baby ily #jsm old asks release #lucemond #aemond x lucerys #aemond targaryen #lucerys velaryon #abo lucemond #lucemond drabble #lucemond fic #lucemond fanfic

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missbunnybunny · 1 year

Text

-If you were the moon and I was the tide, no matter the distance, the tide always follows the moon. For the moon was the tides one true love.-

141 + könig x reader. CWs: none, just Widow. Fluff, and hopefully, everyone likes this!

I'll be posting every 1 to 2 weeks. Mostly 2 weeks. I hope that's okay with everyone.

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When talking about a person, they could say something along the lines of: ' Oh! they're kind.' 'They're sweet and funny.' ' friendly and an absolute sweethearts'.

But when asked to describe a certain Widow, they would say: 'menace.' 'Crackhead.' 'hyperactive.' ' crazy.' ‘She might bite your ankles if you don’t watch out type of person.’ And most of all ' unpredictable.' Is what they would say about her But they would also say that's what they loved about her. (Not the ankle biting part)

When tasked to work in such high and dangerous jobs, such as the military having some laughs to ease the tension can help a lot. And that was what Widow and Soap were, mostly Widow. She constantly made everyone smile, that or worry about her unhinged behavior.

So when she was smiling and jumping off the walls like a kid given candy on Christmas morning and was told santa left her some good present. No one bated an eye, except for 2 people. König, who obviously knew what was happening and price, who noticed that she was hyper than usual. Like he thought she was foaming at the mouth. ( might get her checked for Rabies.)

The rest of 141 started to take notice that Widow smiled up at the air, lost in thought, laughing a little more than usual. Making her look like a maniac, slightly talking nonsense to herself, still smiling. The normal, questionable but normal.

Soap notched ghost with his shoulder, making the taller male look at him, and lower his head to listen. Still keeping his eyes on the spaced out Widow, ' ya, think she finally lost it?' Soap asked. Ghost shook his head and spoke,' na', she lost it a while ago. Can't be it.'

As they still kept an eye on Widow, as a tall giant walked up to the short woman. They could see him waving his hand in front of the woman, but she was still lost in her own world. He visibly deflated, seeing that his attempt to wake her from her dream world failed. He gave her a tap on her shoulder.

The woman snapped out of her dase, jumping a little while letting out a yelp. Quickly blinking and looking up at the person in front of her. When she registered who it was, her face irupted into a red mess.

Widow quickly aderted her face from könig. Feeling her face was about to explode, like a granade. König worried, looked over Widow and asked if she was alright. She quickly responded with an ' am fine.'

Ghost and soap stared wide-eyed at the interaction unfolding in front of them. They watched as both Widow and König walked off to the cafetería. Soap stared, his mouth still open. He pointed at the now empty space and said,' Did she just...' he looked up at ghost, who gave him a nod.

Ghost and soap couldn't believe that they had just witnessed. Widow's face was red, and she could hardly look könig in the eyes. What shocked them the most was that she looked almost shy and embarrassed to see könig in front of her.

Yeah, that sealed the deal for them. Widow was indeed broken. There was no way in hell that Widow would act such a way. Widow knew little to no shame! This woman nonchalantly walked into ghost's room and took all his shirts and pants. Just cuz she felt like messing with ghost after a prank soap pulled on him.

The reason why was cuz, soap had a month before taken all of ghost's shirts, pants and black boxers. Only to leave him pink short with the words 'love mom' in the back.

But Widow had some mercy she left him a pair of pink shorts with red hearts and a sleeve-less tank top. To say ghost was confused was an understatement. Who the bloody hell rods a man of his clothes to only leave him, pink shorts and a tank-top!

Widow walked up to ghost and, with a smile, handed him a basket of his folded clothes, her excuse, 'It was my turn to laundry, hope you didn't mind.' Ghost annoyed, took his clothes back, and changed.

To say that everyone was amusement at what they saw was true, they where also so fucking confused. What the fuck is going on! Soap took as many pictures as he could of the funny sight, before ghost could beat the hell out of him.

'Not a word. Ya hear.' Ghost warned. They all nodded nervously. Widow nodded with a smile. Yeah, she was evil. After that, accurance it solified even more the fact that what they saw was the equivalent of seeing a pig fly.

Gaz knew something was up when Widow was jumping up and down, normal right. Yeah, but every time she jumped around, a small noise could be heard. It could have been her dog tags, sure , but it sounded like multiple ones, and it wasn't the normal sound of dog tags clicking together. Widow didn't usually wear jewelry, like necklaces or rings, since she was forgetful and might lose them, and the fact that she was very clumsy.

Finally, after a week 141, had a meeting regarding a mission they were to be given. After the meeting ended, Price asked what made widow Crazier that usual. He had to know and so did the rest of the task force, where also wondering the cause.

After hearing those words. She froze, completely forgetting the conversation she was having with König. ' Was it that obvious?' She asked wide-eyed.

Price let out a loud belly laugh and said,' You're not the best at hiding it.' Widow looked around to the rest of her team and saw them all nod. Her face grew red, and she hid her face with her hands, lining to hide onto königs chest. ' Why... this is so embarrassing'. She muttered out loud.

König patted her in the back, telling her that it would be fine to tell them. She looked up at him and asked shyly in a low voice,'You sure?'. König nodded.

Now everyone was confused. The hell was going on. Widow took a deep breath and took königs hand in hers and shy showed it to everyone, red faced she said 'me and könig are dating. I really like him'. Now it was königs turn to shyly look away from everyone. Widow slowly pulled up a silver chain from under her shirt.

Everyone looked at the chain to see a diamond ring. Everyone's jaw hit the floor, price choked on his cigar, gaz chocked on his soda. Ghost was left to stunned to speak, soap almost passed out. As for laswell, all her paperwork was on the floor, gone like the wind.

The thought on each and every single one of their minds was <when did this happen!?!> Soap was the first to break the ice and said,' sense when?'. Widow answered with a smile ' a few weeks ago. I was gonna tell ya, but I couldn't find the right time. You were all busy.' Her face was less red, and she wasn't hiding anymore as she spoke.

Ghost looked at könig expectantly, könig took notice and decided to speak.' I proposed.. and asked her to be my girlfriend.' Many emotions were running high, happiness, surprised, and so much more. But they were happy for them.

Everyone in the room congratulated the couple. Widow thought now was the time to tell her brothers the good news. Yeahhh, she didn't tell the either... this would be fun.

- a few hours later: Germany -

A young man was sitting on the floor, wiping his sweaty face with a towel while holding a battle of water in his other hand.

He was tired, very tired, military training was going to be the end of him, he thought. But he was glad that he was done and sense it was still early in the morning. He was planning to eat and get some rest before his duties started. He looked at his watch and read 6:00 am.

He closed his eyes and wished that at least today would be a good day. He opened his eyes to see one of his colleagues walking up to him. They told him that someone from England was calling.

He thanked his friend and went to the waiting call. ' Hello, this is lutenent Michael. Who may i be speaking to?' He asked. From the other line, he heard someone yawning ' tu hermana, i got some good news.' The woman told him.

'I know you're my sister after hearing your ugly voice so early in the morning, y cuel es la noticia? What is the news?' He laughed, hearing his sister dramatically gasp, calling a rude asshole.

' Well... I got proposed and asked to be someone's girlfriend. Como te queda el ojo - what do u think-' she heard nothing nothing but silence from the other end of the line. She checked that it didn't disconnect. Nope, it was still very much connected.

' estás bien? - you good-' she asked. He quickly snaped out of it and asked,' Are you serious? No, me jales la pierna.-dont pull my leg-. Who was it?' He asked, shocked. He was too young and too early for a heart attack.

'It was könig, listen i really like him, his kind and treats me well. Yo me mataría por el y el por mí- i would die for him, and he would for me-.'

'Ay que bueno - Ah, that's good - i didn't give him my blessing for nothing.' Michael sighed in relive, he liked könig and if his sister was happy, then so was he. Besides, maybe family diners won't leave him bed ridden from food poisoning.

'Tú que??-you what- you knew he was gonna ask me?' She asked, shocked and confused. ' he asked me and Alex for your hand'. Michael shrugged.

'No lo puedo creer- i can't believe this-'. She laughs, and she beads her brother. Goodbye. It was time to call her younger brother and tell him the news....

- Korea 10:30-

We all know that anyone in the military values sleep. They love sleep. If you would ask any military personnel what they like the most, they would say SLEEP!. Yes, they love their families and friends, and yes, have a love and hate relationship with life. But sleep.

So why in gods fucking green earth is his sleep being cut short and on his day off, oh hell no. Someone best be dying (hopefully not), his sister getting married or the world is ending. Even if the world was ending he still would rather choose sleep.

The ringing of his phone was becoming so ungodly loud. If there was any God out there, help this man get some sleep! Alex begrudgingly looked at his phone.

Unknown number read the screen, since it looked like it was no one important. He answered, the Alex way. ' 911, what is your emergency? You best be dying, eres el Cuco-your the boogeyman - or your getting jumped, which is it. May I know your emergency?'

The person on the other side of the line was silent before responding,' Ah, yes. Your sister has gotten proposed to and asked to be a girlfriend. She gladly accepted. Does that count as an emergency.' The older woman smiled and laughed at the other end.

Now it Alex's turn to be rendered speechless. After a few seconds, he answered,' Ah, am sorry ma'ma. But it seems to be that I was the one that got jumped. My apologies, maldita loca habladora.-fucking crazy, Liar.'

'Am not lying, and from a scale of 1 to 10, how jumped do you feel?' She asked, laughing. She really missed the way Alex answered his phone, when he was annoyed/unknown number or it he knew it was her or Michael.

' ummm, let me see. I feel as sleep deprived as any man in the army, but to answer. I got hit in the gut, smacked, bamboozled, and I think, Staded in the heart, might have been hit by a car along the way. My answer is 10 out of 10 hit by a HUMVEE. Does that answer your question ma'ma.'

' ah, no pues estás muerto mi hijo.-ah, than your dead, my son.' She laughed even more loudly. ' But all jokes aside, how do you feel? About the news, I mean.'

' Who was it? Oh, please tell me it was that big guy! I quite like him. If it's anyone else am pulling my gun. Am not afraid of jail or prison.' He said blankly.

'Yes to big guy no to prison or jail. You're too cute for that. Remind my dear sir, was this a worthy 911 call.' Smiled nostalgicaly. She found it funny that Alex still used her 911 joke. Although if it was anyone else, this joke would be met with confusion.

Alex responds 'very much. Next one, you better be getting married. Now, it's almost 11, and a man needs some sleep. I love you, but fuck off and let me peacefully die'. He exclaimed while throwing his face into the pillow.

'Love you too, you and me both. I need some sleep, see you on the other side.' She laughs, receiving a laugh from the other line before hanging up.

But oh well, you learn a few things from your family, especially your older siblings. Although learning a few things from Widow might not be good. But at lass that family for you.

After her talk with her siblings, she could feel a weight being lifted off her chest. She hates lying to her family when it comes to such great news. Learning to tell people what is on your mind can be hard, but widow understands that there are people who will listen and help.

Widow is the happiest she could ever be she has someone who truly loves her, a loving family, and her crazy siblings. What else could a girl ask for.

Now, it was mission time. So, no funny business. Widow, it's not mission impossible, and you're not James bond. She told herself, while humming the theme of mission impossible.

Hopefully, she can have some peaceful sleep tonight. Tomorrow is a new day and a new challenge.

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Hope you liked this chapter! Also, should I write about anything else? I am open to the count. Uuu, should I make some original characters and their own stories? Would that be alright with everyone. Please let me know in the comments.

I'll start writing about the other Fandoms I read. Am just gonna have fun.

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Please like,reblog, or boost this post, THANK YOU!

Have a good day, yall 🙋🏽‍♀️. - Author-san out.

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createacamillahect · 8 months

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The moment you realize Camilla Hect has a crush on you too.

you're dense, you know this. sometimes you sense crushes coming from a mile away, so it gives you a false sense of confidence.

not quite this time.

she is, in all objectiveness, the perfect woman: funny, beautiful, capable with knives (hot), and takes care of those she loves, which has supported you in your ailments countless times.

that's why, you thought, she's so willingly to cuddle you. almost every second of alone time is spent with your chest pressed to her, like you're trying to will her body into filling the ache in your chest.

she's stroking your hands now. sometimes she skims her fingers through your hair or kneads the heel of her palm into your back, but right now she's tracing down the lines of tendons and knuckles in your hands, the touches lulling you into a gentle half-awareness.

"You like my hands," you state.

"I do," she responds, tracing the creases in your palm when you flip your hands over for her. "They're soft."

"I don't handle knives like you," you note.

she hmphs in agreement, fingertips sliding to your wrists, and almost to herself, "I love your hands."

you look at her then, things not quite adding up in a way that's hard to articulate. she meets your gaze, never one to back down from a challenge. but you didn't realize this was a challenge. you tilt your head, and mouth dry, you lick your lips, her eyes following the movement in a way that you do understand, and, the realization coloring your voice, you say, "Oh?"

"I suppose," and her face drifts ever closer to you, like a tide pulling her to you. you can see now that her cheeks are stained a pretty maroon, and her lips are close, and her voice is low, like she might scare you off (she could never scare you off) if she speaks at more than a whisper: "I like a lot of things about you."

and the gap between you narrows to a distance that you can't go back from, and you both seem to realize it, realize that you can't go back from it, and you meet her eyes, and something in the both of you snaps, both of you surging to close the distance, crashing into each other, her hands on your back pulling you into her, your hands flying into her hair as you take and take and take what you've been desperately craving for for eons now, feeling like she's consuming you whole as she pushes back into you with as much force as you do her. it's not gentle, it's months of pent up desire on both ends. and it's so pleasant, her warm mouth as she licks inside of yours, enjoying the taste of her.

you finally pull back, sated briefly, and you can't help it, you laugh. you dissolve into a fit of giggles and you can feel her responding laugh reverberating through you. she pulls you closer by her hands wrapped around you back and you look at her again.

"Mine," you speak aloud, gazing at her, feeling giddy.

her cheeks are flushed and her hair is disheveled, "Yours," she confirms.

#ailments for me is mental illness #the cuddling agenda makes an appearance #say it with me PHYSICAL TOUCH PHYSICAL TOUCH #tlt #cam #camilla hect #ask #anon #anonymous

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monty-glasses-roxy · 2 years

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(if you're still taking these)

💛

Vanessa and Gregory?

💛 (Yellow heart) for a familial ship!

Hm okay so I don't really do stuff with Gregory much so bare with me on this one

I'm not sure they'd fit into any sort of traditional family roles like "mother and son" or "siblings" or anything. Neither of those feel right. That doesn't mean they can't be close though! They have their own unique bond!

Their friendship is probably heavily based on their mutual animatronic friends. That's no doubt where that started. I mean if we're post SB, Vanessa absolutely doesn't trust herself near him and he absolutely doesn't trust her, so their relationship has to be built up from a distance. Every time Vanessa is involved in the group, they get ever so slightly closer, gradually building that bridge through small moments, short conversations and the occasional laugh at someone else's expense. It build up from there, the moments getting longer, the conversations more complex, and the jokes more frequent until eventually they can hang out on their own together.

Vanessa cares a lot about him and would go out of her way if need be to help him or to get him anything he wants within reason and Gregory will steal and make things for her in return. They never expected to get particularly attached to each other, but now whenever Vanessa gets in the shit for some shenanigan that happened during her shift, Gregory is unexpectedly mad and whenever Gregory is in trouble with any other kids, Vanessa is unexpectedly just as mad about it. Like they'd grown to be decent enough friends with eachother that they actually give way more of a shit about each others feelings than they did before, which isn't saying much for Greg since he started off not giving a shit at all.

But more importantly, Vanessa is Gregory's link to the outside world. Gregory returning to school? Vanessa makes it happen. Gregory wants to hang out with some friends? Vanessa makes sure he can get back okay. There's a local youth club doing some fun stuff in the week? Vanessa gets him over there. At first, he wasn't so appreciative of suddenly being pulled into some sort of 'normal' routine but once things start to settle, he actually much prefers this to what he had before where it was just "whatever happens happens" every day. It's nice to know what to expect and the animatronics and constant daily buzz of the Plex can be a bit much sometimes so it's nice to get away from that too. She's also his best bet at a consistent meal that isn't just whatever shit Chica decided would be fun to eat today. Pizza every day is probably not good for him, especially if it's Fazbear quality.

They'd probably have fun at the various Plex attractions and playing this game Vanessa came up with when she was bored in her first week on the job where she watches the animatronics and commentates like it's a nature documentary. They have fun with that one for sure. Just "And here we see... Roxanne Wolf in her natural habitat... in some randomass box in the middle of the corridor." and "Ah yes. The Moon. Also known as the FuckFaced Bat." in terrible David Attenborough voices. The best things these two can do together though, are the things not at the Plex. Vanessa took him to the beach once and they got stranded when the tide came in whilst they were looking at rock pools and had to frantically call a coastguard to come and save them. They brought seashells back for everyone of course!

They could have a real wholesome thing going on here! They love each other like family, and don't need to categorise it any more than that. They're great!

#fnaf security breach #fnaf vanessa #fnaf gregory #valentines game answer #pop rox answers #only got one more of these #and it's a fun one #stay tuned lads #/chill

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m0srael · 2 years

Text

The Pleasure of a Fleeting Year, Pts. 70-78

All of the September installments! Late! But here! Read on Ao3.

70: 100 words for Can't Help Falling in Love by Elvis Presley, lyrics: Take my hand, take my whole life too 71: 50 words x 2 for Jam 72: 250 words for Bigger Than Me by Louis Tomlinson, lyrics: All of those voices, all of those choices / I don't hear them anymore 73: 50 words x 2 for Full Moon cw nsfw-ish 74: 250 words for The Darkness That You Fear by The Chemical Brothers, lyrics: And the darkness that you fear / Will disappear cw: discussion of addiction 75: 50 words for Kind cw nsfw-ish 76: 100 words for I Put a Spell on You by Nina Simone, lyrics: I love you anyhow 77: 50 words for Eyes 78: 100 words for Frame I’m writing a continuous story in microfics for all of the 2022 @drarrymicrofic prompts, and this is the seventieth thru the seventy-eighth installments.

Part 70

September 2nd, 2017 Harry finds Draco standing in the middle of Scorpius’s untidy room with a raggedy, stuffed dragon clutched in his hands. “When he first left for school I was terrified.” “That something would happen to him?” Harry asks quietly. Draco scoffs. “No. He was my entire life from the moment he wrapped his tiny hand around my finger. I wake up for him, I go to work for him, I live for him. I didn’t think there was anything left of me beyond that.” Harry cradles Draco’s face in his palm. “And now?” Draco looks up at him, his eyes shining.

Part 71

September 6th, 2017: Scorpius “Please stop,” Scorpius says evenly, not looking up at the older boy who just dropped a dead toad into the middle of his breakfast. The raspberry jam spattered on it looks like blood. “Or what?” the bully sneers, his friends chuckling nastily. Scorpius flushes angrily. He’s too small, too weak. * September 6th, 2017: Teddy Teddy sees it the moment before it happens—the older boy hovering behind Scorpius, hands clasped around something, grinning evilly. He’s on his feet before he can think twice, bridging the distance between the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables in three long strides. "Or you'll deal with me. Leave my brother alone."

Part 72

September 9th, 2017: ‘Chosen One, Chosen Wrong?’ the headline reads. The bold lettering sits atop a paparazzi photo of Harry and Draco exchanging a chaste kiss outside of a Muggle coffee shop. Spotted yesterday cavorting hand-in-hand: Death Eater and convicted war criminal Draco Malfoy and the Golden Boy of the Wizarding World, Harry Potter! The two are rumored to have been embroiled in a secret, passionate love affair for years. Friends and family are stunned at the revelation, with some expressing rightful concern about Malfoy’s intentions, with one source going so far as to suggest Mr. Potter may be under the influence of the Imperius curse! “I wish they’d stop calling me the Golden Boy,” Harry says as he reads over Draco’s shoulder. “That’s the part of this article you take issue with?” “I’m nearly forty, for Circe’s sake!” Harry protests, squeezing Draco around his waist. “Well, Golden Man just sounds creepy. What do you think? Do you feel Imperiused, lover?” Draco’s voice is quiet, teasing. “Doesn’t work on me,” Harry shrugs, kissing Draco’s neck. “But I’m happy to show you a few other ways you might control me.” Harry can feel Draco roll his eyes. They’re quiet for a moment. Draco keeps reading, but Harry has given up in favor of nuzzling into Draco’s shoulder. “Are you upset?” he whispers. “It was bound to happen.” Draco shakes his head. “Are you?” “I will be if you don’t embroil me in something immediately,” Harry murmurs. “Idiot,” Draco says against Harry’s lips as he turns.

Part 73

September 13th, 2017: Harry, Waxing In the blackness—of his bedroom, his mind— the luminous bow of a pale back, arching. Push-pull orbit of a body so heavenly, rising tides, salt-licked surface— molten heat waxing, always-already kissing the cratered flesh. Until, yes, until, the whole world is eclipsed, dripping shattered penumbrae, shivering evidence of lunar exaltation. * September 13th, 2017: Draco, Waning Even at the precise peak of fullness the waning has already begun. There is no moment of perfect illumination, only perfect illusion of wholeness; and yet— there is nothing more certain than the prospect that soon, slivered and made new again, the universe spins inevitably toward the possibility of completion.

Part 74

September 16th, 2017 Harry recognizes the vial in Draco’s hand instantly, even if he hasn’t seen it in months. He could pretend that he’d forgotten it was there, that he’d bought it in a fit of desperation but then never thought about it again. “Draco—”“How long,” he says. Harry can practically feel the disappointment rolling off of him. “I haven’t—” “Don’t lie to me,” Draco holds the vial up between them, as though the solid fact of it will force Harry to tell the truth. “Do not.” Harry stares at the vial—Draco’s fingers are as ghostly white as the potion inside of it. “If the truth is that I haven’t used since you helped me get clean in March, will you believe it? Or have you already decided that I’m using again?” Harry says it calmly, without accusation. As much as it rankles, he knows that people—even the people who love him most—will always be prone to suspicion when it comes to his sobriety. He’s given them little reason to feel otherwise. Draco is silent. “I think…for a while it was an insurance policy. If I lost you and Scorp, Teddy, at least I’d have that.” Draco’s disappointment shifts, starts to slip away. “But then…it was proof that I could get up every day and not need it. Knowing that I chose not to use—it felt good, like real self-control.” “And now?” Draco asks, gently. He places the vial in Harry’s hand. Harry doesn’t hesitate as he pulls out his wand. “Evanesco.”

Part 75

September 20th, 2017 “Father always said kindness is overrated.” “Lucius? No,” Harry deadpans. “Being respected is more important than being liked.” “And do you feel…respected?” Harry pinches Draco’s arse, smirking when Draco settles on his lap. “No,” he breathes teasingly against Harry’s mouth. “And I’m not feeling particularly kind, at the moment, either.”

Part 76

September 23rd, 2017: “Bug, there’s something I wanted to ask you. A-about Harry.” Scorpius gasps, sticking excited hands through the Floo. The green flames light him up like a woodsprite, his pale hair painted lemon-lime yellow. “You’re getting married?!” “Why is that everyone’s first assumption,” Draco mumbles under his breath. “No. I thought we might…stay. At Grimmauld Place. For good. What do you think?” Scorpius’s face falls. “Oh. I thought…” “What?” Draco asks, a weight settling in his stomach. “We don’t have to—” “No!” Scorpius shakes his head. “I just…thought it was already our home.” “It is. It is, Bug,” Draco replies, grinning.

Part 77

September 27th, 2017: Draco One day, he looked up and the old boundaries had been all but erased: Red and gold socks tumbled with a green and silver scarf; A yellow and black poster overlooking blue and bronze bed sheets. There’s something to this inter-house unity thing, Draco thinks, fingers carding through tousled curls.

Part 78

September 30th, 2017 Harry picks up the small, gilded frame. Inside is a photo of a tiny, newborn Scorpius cradled in his mothers arms. “Erm, I think you accidentally left this here…” he says when Draco comes back into the room, his arms full of his clothes and belongings. Draco glances over. “No, that is precisely where I meant it to be.” Harry blinks. “I’m lost.” “When are you not, darling?” Draco teases, kissing his downturned mouth. “Scorpius and I will be terminating our lease effective immediately.” “What? Why?!” “We’re moving in with my boyfriend. Properly,” Draco says, laughing against Harry’s confused pout.

Start here 🌟Previous part here 🌟 Next part here

#the pleasure of a fleeting year #drarry #drarry fic #drarry fanfic #drarrymicrofic #drarry microfic #drarry fanfiction

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izzy-b-hands · 2 years

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What if Stede returns to The Revenge with the rescued crew members, to an Ed that's in an exhausting, devastated, rage that has him sobbing his eyes out

Lantern in one hand, boots traipsing over gunpowder and anything else he could find as an accelerant

What if they fight, forcing everyone else to work together to try and end it, no matter their feelings about each other (Jim pulls Izzy out of the way when Ed swings the lantern nearly into his head, Izzy pauses just long enough for a look of confused realization to dawn on him, then returns to the mass of them all trying to pull Ed and Stede apart. His sword clangs against Ed and Stede's whenever they drift too near to any of the other crew)

What if the lantern falls, unintentionally, and it becomes a race to try and save the ship, a useless one but they try

Buckets of water passed hand to hand, panting in smoke that grows darker and heavier by the minute

Izzy pauses and begs Ed to start leading them to the dinghies, this is madness Edward and we will die here

Tears in his eyes because damn it Ed he doesn't want to die here and even more so he doesn't want Ed to die here and no heartbreak is worth sinking to the ocean floor for

And another painful blink of personal realization hits him and he starts to call the others towards the dinghies

What if Olu pulls Stede towards the boats too but he won't move, Olu there's Ed still here hang on

He motions for Olu to go without him and passes Izzy on the way to Ed

Standing on the rapidly burning deck in tears

Of rage and hurt and loneliness and from the smoke that's inescapable

What if Stede stands there and he begs Ed please you don't have to like me or love me again but I love you and I can't I won't watch you die here

He strides forward and pulls Ed into a hard kiss flames licking a hand as he moves but he doesn't so much as wince

Ed's forehead rests against his after the kiss ends and he finally beautifully blessedly smiles

And he reminds Stede that captains go down with their ships

What if they wash up in a sea cave

Alive but slightly singed and with a few burns Roach will need to tend to

What if Ed wakes first and pulls Stede from the low tide onto the sand at the edge of the cave interior

Begging every power he's ever even briefly cared about or believed in to make Stede wake up and smile and he looks so close to how he did when he was stabbed, dark circles under his eyes and pale skin and

What if Stede coughs and flutters open his eyes and smiles because

There you are Ed

I've been looking for you and missing you and I have so much to tell you

And I came up with our fake names Olu says they're too obviously fake but I think he's being a bit too critical and-

What if Ed kisses him and tells him he wants to hear everything after they find the others

After their wounds are clean and bandaged and they're resting together

Because this isn't a healed fracture not yet but

He thinks of kintsugi and golden lines forming like the stitching of a wound as the sun filters into the sea cave

What if in the distance they hear voices gone hoarse and ragged calling their names

(Izzy has never shouted himself fully hoarse before but he's barely audible when he rushes in with Olu and kneels by Ed to help them up adds on to Olu's reassurances that they'll get them up and looked after and things will be fine)

What if they limp out of the sea cave with Olu and Izzy but Stede asks softly

Looking into the distance at The Revenge her remains at least his dream that he made reality in wood and tar and people and

He hesitates but does ask if they can watch her finish burning before they go anywhere else because he created her designs and funded her birth so the least he can do is witness her cremation

What if they all join together on the beach and watch their ship burn

Exhausted and injured and leaning on one another as if making up for the loss of structure and foundation a ragged bundle of people who've rarely ever known a proper home but know it can occasionally be found among others

#text post #ofmd #this has been like my only semi coherent thought abt possible s2 stuff and of course it came out as fucking #stream of thought poetry free form shit akdngkgn #tagging for spoilers too since I did reference a bts photo in this and i know I've been careful abt what spoilers i let myself see #and im sure others are trying to do the same!#ofmd s2 spoilers #also if u wanna cry a lil while reading it I had the mountains goats Get Lonely in my head the whole time as like #this weird background theme running in all the characters heads during this bc the idea of being alone again secretly terrifies them all #what are the chances they'll find a found family like this again if they survive any longer at all

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randomscribbler-guywholovedher · 1 year

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Oh, how it aches as I pour forth my feelings like a cascading waterfall, while he remains an enigmatic observer, standing at a distance, seemingly detached from the depths of my love. Each word spoken, each gesture offered, and each stolen glance exchanged become embers of hope, igniting a fire of longing that burns relentlessly within the depths of my soul.

In the quiet moments of the night, I find myself lost in a labyrinth of questions that gnaw at my sanity. What if I had revealed my feelings differently? What if I had been more alluring, more captivating, or more mysteriously enticing? Yet, deep down, I know that love cannot be forced—it flourishes only when nurtured by mutual affection.

Yet, I continue on this path, like a fragile moth drawn irresistibly to a distant flame, unable to resist the pull of a love that remains just out of reach. I hold on to cherished memories of stolen glances and fleeting touches, grasping at these fragments of affection like a lifeline, despite the bittersweet ache that lingers within, knowing that such moments were perhaps mere accidental stars in a vast, dark sky of indifference.

As I journey through this whirlwind of emotions, I can't help but wonder what keeps me bound to this one-sided connection. Is it the fear of letting go, afraid that I might lose even the illusion of our connection? Or is it the lingering hope that, someday, the tides will turn, and he will see the love that resides in my heart?

Yet, with the passage of time, I come to face the painful truth that love, no matter how intense or fervent, cannot flourish without the gentle touch of reciprocity. And so, with a heavy heart, I emerge from the labyrinth of unrequited devotion, carrying the scars of heartache, but also bearing the resilience that comes from loving unconditionally.

In this poignant dance of unreciprocated affection, I learn the most profound lesson—to cherish my own heart and to seek love where it blooms effortlessly, where the sweet symphony of affection plays harmoniously, and where the embrace of devotion is warmly reciprocated.

Follow @randomscribbler for more.

#UnrequitedLove #Heartache #lovequotes #poetsofinstagram #books

#randomscribbler #writingcommunity #writers #poems #musing #excerpt from a book i'm writing

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eclecticpatrolroadlawyer · 1 year

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Illicit Affairs (preview)

____________________________________

The truest act of love someone can make is to live for something- to allow it to consume you and turn you into a version of yourself you never recognize.

This is a story where one soul offered everything at love's altar, a vulnerable sacrifice, while another callously exploited that very vulnerability, sowing discord where passion once blossomed...

Y/n's pov

"He is late again."

Deep breaths. In and out.

half an hour later

The sound of the door knob rattling pulls me from my thoughts, and I turn to see you entering, supposedly from your so-called 'jogging' session. Your disheveled hair and the hickey marks on your neck don't escape my notice, but I keep my gaze down, focusing on chopping the ingredients for breakfast. The rhythmic slicing helps channel my frustration into the task.

Silence hangs in the air, heavy with unspoken words and the weight of disappointment. I clench my jaw, determined not to let the emotions bubbling within me overflow. Why me, I wonder.

I put on a fake smile, a mask to conceal the turmoil beneath the surface. Breaking the tense quiet, I decide to confront the reality before me, choosing words carefully as I break the uneasy silence.

"How was it?"

The question hangs in the air as I continue chopping, my hands steady despite the storm raging inside me. The tension is heavy as I await your response.

You seem startled, caught off guard by the unexpected interruption to your silence. Nervously, you stammer a response.

"Huh? W-What?"

"Jogging... You went jogging, right?" I press, my eyes focused on the task at hand, but my peripheral vision catches your every move. I put down the knife, turning to face you with a fake smile plastered on my face.

"Oh, jogging... Yes, jogging... Yeah, it was good... good," you reply, the words rushed and accompanied by a forced smile. The tension lingers, hanging in the air like an unspoken truth, and I maintain my fake smile, masking the hurt that hides beneath the surface.

Chapter 1

(SHOULD I CONTINUE??? I'M SORRY I WAS AWAY FOR DAYS CAUSE I HAD WORK AND COLLEGE...I HAVE BEEN THINKING OF COMING BACK AND ALSO MY ENGLISH IMPROVED SO YEAH MY WRITING STYLE IS DIFFERENT.)

Taglist: @angstysebfan @cjand10 @learisa @themorningsunshine @binkszamsstuff @dreamerglassesgirl @winterslove1917 @perfectpieslimeprune @nikkivillar @bethexo07

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xxgrrawrrgrrlxd · 8 months

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I've been lost at sea for as long as I can remember.

On a normal day,

I lay flat on my back and let the tide take me where it feels I should be.

I'm content with the embrace of the water around me,

And the cool air that brushes my damp and salty skin.

It all feels okay,

And I'm able to convince myself,

And truly believe,

That if I trust the process,

Someday,

I'll find a way home.

However,

When the sky turns grey,

And the clouds cover the sun,

When the wind turns violent,

And the gods beat their drums at me,

Sending crackling lightning to the ocean surrounding me,

The water gets rough,

And it gets hard to stay afloat.

It's impossible not to panic.

When you're fighting for your life,

And the water pushes back at every opportunity,

When all you want to do is keep breathing,

But the world wants you to drown,

You get so tired

And it feels easier to just give up.

It's so much easier to let the waves whip me around until they finally drag my limp body under.

It's almost a relief,

To feel the weight and the stillness around me,

Pulling me deeper and deeper,

Promising an end to all the pain.

I watch the light above me get dimmer.

Then I look below, and it's just black.

I see indistinguishable shapes move around in the distance,

Blacker than black.

I can't see their eyes,

But I know they're watching me.

As I sink deeper,

They start to grow bigger,

And more frequent.

They become more curious,

And start to get closer.

They're horrible.

Indescribable.

More than my mind is equipped to handle.

They circle me,

And start to graze my skin,

They wrap their tepid, scaly, slimy bodies, around me as they consume the humanity seeping from my pores.

I can't tell anymore,

Where I end and they begin.

I scream,

But it's hopeless,

I can't even hear myself.

It's silent and still,

But it's so, so, loud.

I plead and plead,

And beg for help,

But I'm all alone.

There's no blood in my body,

No air in my lungs,

Just saltwater.

And I feel myself turning black.

Everything is black,

And I am something else entirely.

I stay like this,

For I don't know how long.

Hours, days, who cares?

I don't know where it comes from,

But I get a breath,

A lungful of air from hundreds of fathoms above.

I hold it in my lungs as I begin to writhe and fight my way back up.

The crushing weight begins to lift the closer I get to the light,

And the forms scurry back down to their dark cover.

As the water turns to a cooler blue,

I see life around me,

And light,

And color.

Beautiful.

I long to be a part of the land of the living again.

With one final push,

And a cathartic release of the breath of air that saved me,

I am bobbing on top of the sea.

Still reeling,

I take in the familiar scenery surrounding me.

The sun shines,

I imagine it smiling.

It's surrounded by a blue sky dotted with fluffy cotton candy clouds.

I move gently with the tide.

The ripples catch light with each wave.

The birds fly overhead with the wind that softly washes over my skin.

I take big whiffs of the refreshing humid sea air.

I feel good.

In a way I never thought I would again.

The ocean is beautiful,

And imposing,

And so, so, so deep.

This isn't the first time I've been dragged down,

And it won't be the last.

With each storm,

I'm better equipped for the next.

#creative writing #new writer #depression #writing #constructive critism welcome #but dont make me cry #poetry #writeblr #wagawagawaga

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casspurrjoybell-21 · 1 year

Text

Pirate Chains - Volume 1 - Strong Tides

*Warning Adult Content*

Chapter 40 - Pros and Cons - Part 2

Agenor

Ignoring his protests, I removed the handkerchief to take a closer look. The bruises had deepened to a shade of purple but the non-bruised areas appeared better than they did yesterday. It would likely take a few more days before I could put the collar back in place. I gently caressed his neck, causing him to wince.

"Still hurts?" I asked.

"Just a little... But right now, my wrist bothers me the most."

"Just a little longer, Nyx. Once your neck heals, your hand will be free."

"What? No, I don't want the chain anymore. I really, really hate it."

I placed the handkerchief back around his neck.

"Let's revisit this in a few days. Maybe if you behave, I'll take it off."

"Days."

Nyx looked confused, his gaze dropping to the chain as if the metal could provide answers. Then, in a whiny tone, he asked...

"Why? What did I do?"

"Nothing."

"You're clearly punishing me for something, Agenor. So, what have I done to deserve the chain again?"

I sighed, tired of his relentless questioning. If he would just stop doubting my decisions, I wouldn't feel the need to confine him here.

"It's safer for you here."

"Maybe at first but you said yourself they won't dare hurt me. And you've seen it yourself. Your crew came in and they didn't do anything wrong. They were actually nice, as nice as pirates can be anyway. It was kind of strange but it's obvious they mean me no harm. So..."

To my silence, he continued...

"Then at least I should get back to work..."

"Not for a few of days, Nyx. And I'll prohibit the herd from entering here again."

"You want me to talk to the walls all day? Even prisoners have the right to receive visitors, damn it."

"Not on my ship."

"Oh, so now I'm a prisoner? Again?"

I gave him a pointed glare, which he returned before his voice softened.

"One second, I'm a prisoner and the next, you treat me like a child. That's degrading in more than a way. I don't know what you want anymore."

"Lords, Nyx. Why the hell do you even want to go out? You can't walk properly. You're still injured. Besides, it's scorching hot out there. Just stay here. It's better for your healing."

"Exactly. It's a warm day and the winds probably won't pick up again for three or four days. It's suffocating to stay in here. And there's a strange smell... Just let me out and I promise I won't cause any trouble..."

"NO."

I hadn't intended to yell at him but his persistence was infuriating. He had become accustomed to roaming freely around the ship, seemingly forgetting to whom he belonged to.

"It's for your own good. So stop arguing, damn it. You just need to trust me."

"Wait. Where are you going? Agenor? Agenor?"

********

I returned to the cabin late at night to find Nyx already in bed. Slipping in behind him, I pulled him close, wrapping my arms around him. As he turned and nestled against my chest, purring softly, I knew he was fast asleep. His adorable actions were never intentional, he simply couldn't help it. The following day, I found myself increasingly preferring Nyx when he was asleep. Whenever he opened his mouth, he would plead to be freed from the chain that bound him. It frustrated me but deep down, all I wanted was for him to be submissive to me alone. If only he could understand that, then I would shower him with all the affection he desired.

By the third day, everyone's mood had taken a turn for the worse. I found myself inexplicably angry and the fact that I had been avoiding Nyx and keeping my distance only intensified my frustrations. The oppressive heat of the windless day made everyone irritable and the slow pace of our tasks didn't help matters. But the most bothersome of all was the stench emanating from the severed hand, it's rotting flesh permeating the air. In the afternoon, I decided that Nyx's whining was far more preferable than the sour expressions worn by the crew, so I retreated to my cabin. As I opened the door, I was met with the sight of Nyx hunched over the chamber pot, retching. Concerned, I rushed to his side.

"Are you okay? What's wrong?"

He quickly wiped his mouth and covered the pot. He tried to reassure me with a feeble...

"It's nothing... I'm fine."

"You were throwing up just now," I exclaimed, worried.

"I'm not..." Nyx's words were cut off as he covered his mouth, leaning over the pot once more.

I crouched beside him, supporting his chest as he gagged repeatedly. His stomach seemed empty but that didn't stop the relentless waves of nausea from gripping him. I gently held back his hair, noticing how pale his face had become. My heart sank as I feared he might have contracted a sea fever or something worse. I had taken great care to ensure his well-being but now… Fuck, I felt helpless.

'God don't let him get sick.'

Nyx pulled away, covering the pot and I supported his shoulder with my chest. He closed his eyes and took deep breaths. I caressed his back, wanting to ask him more questions but he pushed me away weakly and hoarsely told me.

"I'm good. Just go back to managing your ship."

"The ship is fine," I reassured him, observing his pale and exhausted appearance.

I touched his forehead and felt a slight relief when I found it to be of normal temperature. Continuing to stroke his back, I asked...

"Does your stomach hurt? Did you feel unwell after lunch? Maybe you ate something bad."

He shook his head slightly and replied...

"It's not that. It's... that smell. It's unbearably disgusting."

He covered his nose, a look of revulsion on his face. Despite his efforts, he continued to gag every few seconds. He was too weak and it pained me to witness his suffering. I caught a whiff of the cabin's air and finally noticed the lingering odor of the decaying hand that hung outside. The smell was indeed foul and with the lack of wind, it seemed to have lingered in the cabin for hours.

"Oh God. How can the sea smell this bad?" he muttered.

I comforted Nyx, patting his hair gently.

"Hang in there. I'll get you some fresh water."

He pushed himself back to lean against the bed, covering his nose with the bed sheets and closed his eyes. He looked pale and miserable. I carried the chamber pot outside and handed it to someone for cleaning. Then, I fetched a bucket of clean water from the water room and found another clean pot waiting by the cabin door.

Before entering the cabin again, I paused to reflect for a moment. For once, I felt a pang of remorse.I retrieved my dagger from the mast and swung it forcefully towards the sea, watching as the putrid flesh flew and landed in the salty water. I turned to see Ace, noticing the surprise in his expression. I tossed the dagger to him and he caught the pommel effortlessly.

"Make sure it no longer reeks of dead animals," I instructed him.

"Aye Aye, Captain."

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dinofelissnow1985 · 2 years

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Chapter 4: Poseidon's Horses

Nightmare was beyond pissed.

What Dream had told him had been the straw that broke the camels back.

They did it.

The land dwellers really dared to hurt and catch not one but FOUR of the merfolk.

When Dream had been watching the port and the piers he just couldn't miss the gloating fishermen which were showing off the shark mer they caught.

Poor things had obviously gotten desperate enough to try to steal from the fishermen to not starve to death.

Dream heard how the land dwellers decided to prove that they were not afraid of anything, be it the sea itself or some higher beings the old fools were still praying to.

Dream decided he had to tell Nightmare. And quick.

When he was a distance out at sea he turned and saw the land dwellers put up some kind of scaffolding to hang the four shark mer by their tails, put on display for everyone to see.

They were pulling up the small Thresher when Dream looked back again, before turning around and heading for the deep, where Nightmare was sleeping.

Dream was crying when he returned to his brother and Nightmare immediately sent his feelings to Dream to find out the reason. His brother rarely cried. This had to be serious.

"Night, you have to wake up and help me! The land dwellers caught four shark mer and hung them by their tails. They'll die if we don't do anything. You said you would act when the mortals dared to touch the merfolk. I can't do this on my own, i'm not a punishing god."

While Dream talked and rambled, Nightmare was already waking up.

Over the decades and centuries, he had been asleep, his giant body hand gotten half buried under accumulating silt and sediments.

He yawned and stretched his arms before, one by one, pulling his Tentacles out of the ground.

He left his hideout and rose to the surface, stretching his limbs and calling out for his magic.

He immediately started to brew up a storm.

He was determined to leave no stone unmoved. This would be an example to the other land dwellers, to not disrespect the gods and other deities.

He called for Poseidon's warhorses. He would use them to trample the whole island into the sea ground.

To get the storm started would take some time. Nightmare hoped that the captured merfolk would hold on long enough.

Over the hours of the day some of the elders left Rungholt for the Mainland after hearing about the caught shark mer. They saw the darkness out at sea and knew that nothing would be able to calm the angered gods this time.

Rungholt was doomed.

Even if they were to release the four mer, the fishermen had crossed a line that was never meant to be crossed.

So, some of the elders left to get as far away from Rungholt as possible before the storm unleashed its rage.

Not many went with them, too stubborn to acknowledge that this storm was not like any other.

The other elders, those who decided to stay, prepared to face and accept their fate. They felt that they failed in teaching the younger ones the right way and that they therefore deserved to die with everyone else.

The sky turned dark in the evening, packed with clouds. Not long after, it started to rain, water pelting the island, the town, and the sharks.

The tides turned violent and everyone took shelter either in their own home or in one of the many taverns where the fishermen, who caught the merfolk, were treated like heroes and bragged about their encounters with the 'wild beasts'.

Even the panicked scrambling of the Thresher became a heroic fight for life and death.

The men drank, bragged, sung and laughed to the gods and deities and whatnot, feeling safe under the roof that kept the pelting rain away.

Outside, the waves became more and more powerful, already rolling over the piers every time.

The rain was a relief for the dryed out sharks. Even the small Thresher finally woke up.

He blinked, looked around and noticed the mer.

The next thing he became aware of was the situation they were in.

"Uh...guys? Does anyone of you have any idea how we are to get out of this?" he asked nervous, almost fearful.

Killer craned his neck to look at him. "Oh, hey. Finally awake, Kiddo? Just try to relax. We'll either be free or dead when the night is over. And since we can't do anything about it, there's no sense in panicking. So, just enjoy the show." Killer grinned.

"Hey, what's ya name?" Horror asked to distract the small one from panicking.

"Huh? Oh, um...i'm Cross."

The others introduced themselves and told their storys.

Cross had simply gotten desperate and had tried to snatch some fishes from the net, but got caught in said net and started to panic when the fishermen got a hold on him. He remembered getting hit over his head, then nothing. Apparently he'd passed out.

Dust had had aimed for the long lines with baited hooks. He intended to steal the bait but a hook got stuck in his dorsal fin and while he tried to free himself his tail got entangled in the line. That's how he was found by the fishermen.

Killer told how he and Horror had met and how they had tried to flip a boat and got overpowered when other fishermen came to help their victims.

When the sharks took a look at the raging sea again the waves were flooding the ground around the seaside hill where they were put on display.

Then the waves retreated, the water leaving the port completely dry while out at the horizon an eerie cyan glow spread.

Everything went silent aside of the rain. A strange singing noise filled the air and got louder and louder.

The four sharks looked towards the looming glow, that got bigger with every Soulbeat.

"Huh, looks like the main event is about to start," Dust mused aloud.

Killer laughed. "Heheheh, i like ya, Dusty. What do ya say? Wanna come with us when we make it out alive?"

Dust shrugged nonchalantly. "Sure, why not. You are nuts, it'll be fun."

"Cool," Killer grinned. Then he looked at Cross again. The small one looked pretty miserable and couldn't hold back the tears of fear that welled up in his Eye Sockets. He didn't want to die, he was hardly more than a pup, just a juvenile. Now he wouldn't get the chance to grow up to his full length.

Horror and Dust noticed too and somehow felt empathic for the Kid.

Before anyone could utter a word of encouragement the singing noise turned into a thundering rumble that shook the earth and made the air vibrate.

The four looked out at the sea and saw a massive dark wall arise over the water and getting bigger by the second.

The thundering wall rushed closer, growing until it seemed to touch the stormclouds.

Then they saw them.

Inside the wall of water came a herd of gargantuan horses galloping towards the island. Their manes and tails were made of seafoam, their hooves were formed like flippers, and they were absolutely terrifying, not neighing but screeching for blood and revenge.

The warhorses of Poseidon.

In their midst were a golden and a cyan light.

Before the raging, boiling wall reached the sharks, several giant Tentacles reached out of the water and gripped the posts of the scaffolding and surrounded the four shark mer, cradling them in their safety.

After that, everything was over in just a few minutes.

The water rolled over the entire island and like he had sworn to himself, the whole town was trampled into the sea ground by the horses.

When the next morning dawned there was no evidence that Rungholt ever existed, besides a few Halligen maybe.

Nightmare and Dream took the sharks to their place and fed them until they were healthy again.

They stayed, watching over Nightmare while he slept and keeping him company when Dream was out to watch over the other land dwellers.

The fate of Rungholt reminded them to respect the sea and for a long time everything was how it should be.

Rungholt became legend. Storys told about it, Songs and ballads sung of the sinful town and so it was never forgotten.

Visit me on AO3.

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teafairywithabook · 2 years

Text

Redacted Fic Master List

So I've written a couple of fics on AO3, and I thought I'd pin them up here in case anyone was interested. This is the first fandom I've written for, and I'm having a great time doing it! Imperium at the bottom, or just go straight to my AO3 at Teafairywithabook to see everything. (If you read any and liked them, let me know!)

Please see the individual fics for any warnings. Some are 18+. No minors on those ones please.

Going alphabetically then:

Alexis

Loving You Isn't The Right Thing To Do Sam's turning from another point of view.

Avior

Waking Up With Your Sarcastic Demon Usually, Avior wakes up before Starlight. Today, they wake up first and takes a moment. Fluff!

Felt Across The Distance 18+ (Avior x Starlight) Starlight’s come to terms with everything Avior has told them, and now they want to know the exact nature of their previous relationship. Avior is happy to explain, and show them. Explicit.

Wonderful Creatures Avior tells a bedtime story, but not to Starlight

The Last Night Avior and Starlights final night before they escape I wrote this before the confession or Springback came out

Forgiveness In Time Starlight is hurt by Avior's distance until he explains himself. Written before we knew the truth.

Blake

Keep Me Close In Your World A frightening experience in your school for magical novices drives you into the arms of a dreamwalker.

D.A.M.N Bois (Incl Caelum)

I Win, I Lose, Damien, with the rest of his team, is going up against another school. One of the debate topics causes a stir, but why?

Magic Cookies, Movies and Music Freelancer and Gavin help their new neighbour with a breakup (requested fic)

First,Sleep Huxley migraine comfort

The Promise 18+ Gavin has to see Lasko for a timetable and made a promise to behave which he quickly regrets. Lasko has a habit of chewing a pen and Gavin can't do a thing about it.

Remake Myself What if Gavin had nearly had a relationship before Freelancer? It might explain a little (Requested fic)

A Beautiful Mess Freelancer feels as though they ruined Gavin's life

Peace Of The Dark Caelum is missing his friends after the Inversion and finds a way to see them.

A Kiss To Still Your Mind Freelancer kisses Lasko to calm him down. Here it is again, but what's Lasko doing?

Ivan

Working For The Weekend Flyboi is back in Dahlia for work, and sends his love an email during a meeting.

The Shaw Pack

In Any Life I'll Be With You Milo never got his wolf back. What next? Echo goes to find out.

You Make Me Live Asher meets Brachium along the River while a frantic David and Sam work on him during the Inversion

Only The Pure Of Heart Can Make Good Soup “Your tsundere alpha werewolf mate cares for you while you’re sick.” Request fic! You want David Shaw looking after you? You got it.

Vega

The Push And The Pull Of The Tide This takes place before Vega and Warden leave for Dahlia. Set right before the events of “Learning a Sadism Demon’s Past.” Vega begins to slowly open up to Warden. Warden sneaks out to satisfy their hunger and returns to find they’re not as sneaky as they thought. Vega decides to finally give Warden a bit more information about his past.

Gulf It's Valentines day in the Containment Facility and Vega has things to say about it. First thing I've written in a long time, not my finest work.

I Fell With The Rain 18+ Warden lies in the room Vega has given them to recover in, thinking. He interrupts their thoughts and advances his own agenda.

The One Exception The Solitaire group attack the Containment Facility Vega is held at during a session with Warden. What exactly happened?

Dirty Little Secret Could be read after Warden Mine. Vega's back and asking for something more, but Warden has their own agenda. Written before the current storyline happened.

Song: Corresponding Demons A great collaborative project with Frenchie, just Vega and Warden having a little back and forth. Give it a listen and go give her a listen!

Taste Of The Poison Just to see if I could do Vega being a little soft with Warden while keeping him in character and this was the result.

Warden Mine My first Vega fic, and one I've been considering re-writing. The Warden is having trouble sleeping, with a few thoughts buzzing round their heads when a visitor appears from the shadows. Nothing graphic, slight violence and a tiny threat. Bit of flirting? It's Vega.

Imperium

Weighted Blanket 18+ Vega thought Pet looked wonderful asleep. Irresistible in fact. So he didn’t bother resisting, and he used some of his magic to ensure they didn't either. Consesual somno.

Be Useful Freelancer has done everything Academy President Moore has asked. They’ve been summoned to his office to discuss their future, and a possible reward for their good behavior. What do they want? More importantly, what else does the President want? Guest appearances by Vindemiator and Director Avior. Requested fic.

It's Just Chocolate 18+ Vindemiator helps you cool down in the kitchen, and things heat back up. Guest appearance by Vega.

Feels Like Home You appreciate the sky as Vindemiator thinks about home, but something comes out that you weren’t expecting and now you don’t want to look up at all.

Frenchie wrote her song By The Lights as a companion piece to this and I love it so much! Give it a listen.

Stargazing With Director Avior 18+ Frustrated with light pollution, you end up at a dark cemetery with the Director of Dahlias Demon Haven for the ease of meteor viewing. You’ve been trying to bury your growing feelings for him behind work but outside, under the stars, it’s not going so well

Open Up Your Plans 18+ Camelopardalis finds President Lasko Moore trying to unwind in what Moore thought would be a private area of the Academy. The two share a little time together for the Kinktober prompt "Mirror", and Cam helps President Moore relax. Explicit.

Something To Believe In Vindemiator has been thrust into Elegy with little clue how to survive. From the start things are difficult, but how much can he stand, and what will be his breaking point?

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