#sweet and indeed sorrow

[chibsandchill]

See me

Fandom: Saltburn 

Pairing: Felix x AFAB!Reader 

Summary: Each room in Saltburn is bursting at the seam with memories with you, and Felix remembers some of his favorite moments as he makes his way to his prize. 

Warnings: Felix, Mentions and descriptions of acts of violence and murder, NSFW content, MDNI, 18+, unreliable narrator (Felix), toxic relationship, obsessive tendencies, grammatical and spelling errors, p in v sex, oral sex (m receiving), Felix is a creep, themes of violence - self-harm and equivalent themes are prevalent through the imagine, some parts of their dynamic takes inspiration from Hannigram but with my spin on obsession

I am not responsible for your media consumption. Read the tags. 

MDNI

Masterlist

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It’s a cloudy day when Felix first saw you,

but with you came the sun, 

warmth, empathy, love. 

Oh, how he loved your heart. But, oh, how careless you were with it. It was a gift, 

one meant for him, 

from you. 

Then why did you waste it on those beneath you? You chipped away at it to mend sobbing students, tore at it until it bled and thick scars rose like mountains. You took on their pain with a blindingly bright smile, 

only Felix saw how their burdens weighed you down. 

The sun was meant to warm, to burn from far away, 

but they tore you down from your place in the sky so that they might leech your warmth until you are left barren. Their sorrows were cold as ice against you. 

They stole you from him. Piece by piece they ripped at you with filthy nails. You became known on campus as someone who’d listen. Who wouldn’t judge. How could you when you felt their problems as if they were your own? The more they spoke those words dripping with poison, the more they tainted the very blood in your veins with their darkness. 

‘Walk in their shoes’. 

You didn’t need to. You could walk in their skin, feel their emotions as if they were yours. Heartbreak plagued you, sorrow fell on you like an ever present shadow. The death of a family not yours turned your face gray and your eyes misty.

Until Felix put a stop to it all. How could he stand by and watch it happen? The slow destruction of a bright star, who burned so bright that all envied it. 

Jenny from history of art, Carl from math, Robert from physics, Matilda from psychology, Caroline, Jeremy, Han, Thomas, Harry, Derek, Henry, Linda, Nico, Mark, John, Hans, William, Frederic. All turned away at your door. 

“Yes, I’ll tell her.”

“I’ll let her know.”

“Sure thing, buddy.”

Oh, how they believed his lies. Sweet, sweet, Felix Catton wouldn’t lie to them. Surely not. 

But lie, he did. It spewed from his lips like honey. All to have his sun beam at him again. To wash away the taint of the others from your skin, your heart, your eyes. He would have you look at him with soft, relaxed eyes. 

Him. Him. Him. Him.

Your protector. Even if you didn’t know it yet. 

“Felix.” 

He hummed. 

Your eyes are heavy with sleep when you look up at him, but the affection is hard to miss. It makes you glow. Felix curled his arm further around you, bringing you closer to him. But even then it is not close enough. He aches. It’s a want deeper than skin, deeper than bones or even his soul. It was as if his very being was made of want, of longing so intense he was blinded by it. If God was indeed real then he had created Felix with a thread laced with obsession, with love transcending all else. 

Even thinking about you made his heart race, pound. 

“Can I braid your hair?” 

“‘Course.” He said against your skin. 

As if you needed to ask. All of him was yours. 

You try to sit up but Felix isn’t ready to break the contact yet. He feels like a battery, no matter how bizarre a comparison it is, constantly needing to be recharged so that he might survive when you part. He’s constantly cold without you, he feels empty; hollow. His hands are too light with the lack of you, he breathes too easy without the weight of you on his chest. If he could he’d carve his heart out so that you could carry it with you, for that was how he felt anyway. He’d gouge himself hollow so that he could fit you inside. Never to be parted again, joined together by shared blood, flesh and bone. 

It’s not easy with his hold on you, but you manage to shift so that you sit in his lap instead. It’s not ideal if you mean to truly braid his hair but Felix won’t complain. He pushed his head into your touch when your fingers hover over him. 

“Patience.” You half-heartedly scold him. 

Your fingers weave through his hair, nails scratching just right against his scalp. With deft hands you untangle the mess you’d created during the night. There’s not much to braid but more than enough for you to wrap around your fingers and tug. The action pulls a low groan from his throat. 

He grabs your hips. Felix wonders if you’ve noticed how he’s caged you in. You probably don’t, as sweet and trusting a being as you surely wouldn’t peel back his layers to gasp at the thriving darkness beneath. With you he was his truest self. Could you see him? Would you run if he were to cast off the layers? Let you see him? 

Maybe you already could. You had seen the others. Even the empty ones, the ones who had gouged themselves hollow and shoved the essence of what they thought he wanted until it spilled from every hole in their body. 

Felix wasn’t hollow. He was bursting at the seams with life, same as you. And yet you stayed. Surely you knew. You had to. You and he were one. Two pieces of a whole finally reunited. 

He breaths in your scent, noses along your throat before allowing his head to rest in the crook of your neck. There’s a bruise there hidden on your shoulder blade. Late one night when you’d already fallen asleep he mouthed it into your skin with the moon as his witness, 

only, 

it had started to fade. 

He’d have to do it again. Closer. Marking you under the cover of darkness wasn’t enough anymore. An unspoken claim didn’t satisfy him anymore. It wasn’t enough. He was beginning to think it never would be. He could bruise every inch of your skin with his love and his skin would still itch to do more – to prove himself more to you.  

Just as his hands slide down to rest on the curve of your ass the scene slips through his fingers like sand. 

He blinks it away. He’s standing in the driveway of Saltburn. Your favorite statue is left in shambles on the gravel with his blood splattered across the white marble. 

“What the fuck.” Felix’s hand shakes and burns with pain. His knuckles are split open. 

It had been a slip of a thought he had once when you first came to Saltburn and you’d taken to leaning on the statues, the furniture, walls, pillars. He’d wanted them all gone. He’d be your pillar. He wouldn’t crumble with age, would never make you think they stood strong only for the core to be riddled with holes from pests.

Felix was whole and strong, had made himself such, 

for you. 

He’d burnt the tendrils of influence his mother had dug into him since childhood. Torn the threads of her darkness right out of the tapestry. Oh, how she cried when she noticed. ‘Felix,’ she’d whispered, a rare show of emotion plastered across her face, ‘what have you done?’. 

She shouldn’t have worried about what he had done. No, she should’ve worried about what he was going to do. 

He watched you for weeks before approaching you. He noticed what made you laugh, what made you smile, frown, scowl. And so he took that too. Cut out the parts of himself that would drop the smile from your face and sewed on the parts that he lacked until he was left a patch-work version of perfecting befitting a Mary Shelley novel. Pus and blood seeped from the stitches. The sight was unseemly. So he waited until he’d perfected himself, until the stolen was assimilated, until it was like another Felix had never existed. 

Felix throws the heavy doors open and the maids scurry away from his sight. 

Duncan emerges from the pack. Even after all he’d seen, his adoration for Felix remained. “Welcome back, Felix.” 

He nods. 

And then he’s off. 

The route he takes is reminiscent of your first tour of the mansion. He’s even nodding along as if hearing himself introduce it all. The staircase where he “fingered” his cousin. As if. Your face had reddened with equal parts jealousy and sheer disbelief of ‘what the fuck’. 

One of the smaller sitting rooms. The green one. He fucking hates that room. But you love it. He went down on you for the first time there. Right on the couch with his granny’s ghost knocking down a shelf of antique plates over his head. The blood had driven you crazy. 

The thought alone made him hard. 

But this was also the first room you’d held him properly in. He’d been crying. 

“What's wrong?” You ask when he threw the door open. 

You’d been doing some summer reading for uni, but your fingers clutched the opening pages with strength that betrayed your pounding headache. 

“Fucking Ollie.” 

Your brows furrow “Oliver?”

Felix lay down on the couch with his head in your lap. You smell good. And you’re soft. 

“Yeah.” He sigh. “He was lying to us this whole time. Turns out poor Oliver Quick has both a dad and mum who loves him. Even siblings! They live in a lovely house in a picture perfect neighborhood.”

‘I just need you to understand how much I fucking love you!’

As if there was even a sliver of Felix that didn’t belong to you, that didn’t scream out for you every second you were apart. Had Oliver not been paying attention? Could he not see the need that permated him? It ran so deep, was so all-consuming that he couldn’t contain it all. He breathed desire, cried longing, even fucking pissed envy. Envy even over the very air you breathed, the clothing that hugged you, the sheets for the audacity to imply he wasn’t enough to keep you warm. 

You hum as your fingers drift down to cup his face. 

“He was in love with me.” 

“Isn’t everyone?” You joke. 

Felix’s eyes opened (he hadn’t realized he closed them). “You love me?”

“Of course.” You trace a scar on his cheekbone. 

“Say it.” 

“I love you, Felix.”

Even that memory fades, but your words linger. 

I love you, Felix. 

You always linger. Your kisses burn his skin and he wishes it left a scar so that he could look upon it and relive it all. 

The green room is abandoned quickly, and he’s off. 

“A blue room!” You exclaim, and to Felix’s displeasure you let go of him to take it all in. 

“Yeah. It’s… blue.” 

“What? No ghosts? No artifacts?”

Felix shakes his head. “Nope. Just blue.”

Felix sees himself leaning against the door while you spin around the room. It’s like a movie, almost. Only it’s his memories and he can remember every second he’s ever spent in your presence. Including this one. And the next one. 

The one where you’re on your knees.

You’re pressing soft kisses to the tip of his cock, pressing your love into every inch of skin you can find as if you wanted to stay there, to have your love replace the tar that ran through his veins. 

It’s odd. He can almost feel the tingles left by your touch, but he’s untouched. Felix’s hands form fists at the sight. Was it possible to be jealous even of himself? The envy boiling in his stomach certainly said so. He would not share you even with himself. 

Felix strides forward and sinks into the place his past self sits. He unbuckles his jeans and frees his cock from his underwear. If he were not so deep in madness he might’ve felt the cold of the room, but he was, and so he felt the warmth of your hands, the wetness of your mouth as you wrap your lips around his tip. 

He moans. He didn’t know what he liked the most about it. The vulnerability, the act itself, your presence, or that it left you with a part of him inside you. You’d kneel in front of him for as long as it took, but Felix would not have you be uncomfortable and so he slid a pillow under your knees. 

Your hands cup his balls. He twitches. You take more of him into you. It feels like heaven to have you wrap yourself around him. Wet, warm, silky heaven. All for him. 

Him. Him. Him. Him. His. 

You moan around him. It sends vibrations straight through him. It pulls a low groan straight from his chest, one that makes you moan. His pleasure is your pleasure, and your pleasure is his, and so the circle begins. 

His eyes roll into the back of his head when you begin bobbing your head up and down. You slurp. Electricity runs down his spine. It’s wet. Sloppy. Saliva drips down your mouth as you press your nose into his abdomen. 

Someone drops a plate somewhere in the house and the spell is broken. Not unlike a reflection in a lake is the memory distorted, wrong. You’re on your knees without the pillow. He’s standing above you, not sitting. Your knees are bruised and bleeding. You’re crying. 

Some small part of him, one that he’d allowed to fester for far too long, enjoys the scene. Enjoys the submission, thrives in the knowledge that it is not only he that longs and wants and would press and press until nothing remains if only to bring you a sliver of happiness. You smile around his cock. It’s not the pain that brings you to tears. 

This isn’t right. This isn’t him. It’s Elspeth messing with his head. It’s Oliver whispering his lies in his ear. 

He wants to vomit. Why would they punish him so? To make him see you hurt, 

to force him to see himself hurt you, brutalize you, 

humiliate you. 

Why, when he adored you, worshiped you. If there was a puddle he’d lay himself down to let you walk over him. He’d drown himself so that you would not have to dirty yourself. Like a tumor he’d performed surgery after surgery to remove what you didn’t like. 

And you did the same. 

The image is restored, but he’s already on his feet. 

He would wait no longer. 

Felix runs up the stairs but is forced to a halt by the moans coming from the king’s bedroom. Another memory? The door is already open. 

“Tell me your vows again.” 

You’ve got your legs up in the air behind you, head resting in your hands as you stare at him. 

“Dear,” Felix turns around from where he stood by the window. Your name sounds like prayer on his lips. “I’ve never been alone. People have flocked to me since before I can remember. But they didn’t see me. But you… you, I let you see me. It’s a rare gift. And it’s one that I’ve never regretted giving you. I’ve never felt more loved than in your arms. Do I need to continue, Mrs Catton?” 

You laugh. 

“Come to bed, Felix.”

The memory changes before he can enjoy the sight of you in your wedding dress. The happiest day of his life. Gone in a blink. 

You’re no longer on the bed. You’re in his arms, crying yet again. There’s blood on his shirt. No finger graces your finger. Felix closes his eyes. He knows this memory. KNows very well what he’d have to endure to get back to you. 

“Y-you killed him!” You shudder. 

Felix shushes you. “There was no other way.”

“There’s always another way.”

“Not this time." 

Truly, there wasn’t. You saw much, but Oliver was so good at pretending to be someone else that he even fooled himself into believing his own lies. And so, you thought nothing of it when Oliver offered you his bottle of wine. Had no idea of the drugs that he’d shoved in there. 

“Are you scared of me?” Felix asks you. His voice shakes. He remembers his own fear, how his stomach churned. He could write a thousand words and not even chip at the surface of the emotions he felt. A thrill at the thought of you finally seeing the deepest deepest parts of him? Disgust that he’d slipped and revealed a crack in his mask? Such fear that it clung to his very bones, stopped his lungs from working and had his own eyes water with tears? All true. And yet all of them are false. There wasn’t a single emotion he could place, they all blended together to form a concoction of heart-wrenching pain and fear. 

The memory fades away. He doesn’t remember the rest. All he remembers is how it ended. 

The headboard bangs against the wall with the force of his thrusts. His hands are cradling your face, kissing away the tears of pleasure. You push your legs up higher on his back where you’ve hitched them, your own hands pressing against his own face to bring him closer. He’s inside you but he’s not close enough. 

Felix leans down to cover your whole body with his. You squeak at the change. 

“Oh god,” you throw your head back with a moan. 

He moves a deft finger down to press down on your clit. He experimented with pressure, directions, even spelled out his own name with your pleasure. Felix feels as though he’s on fire, but still he wants more. He wants to be closer. Closer. Closer. Closer. 

You clench around his cock, and he stutters. 

The love in your eyes makes him falter, before he drives into you faster than before. The bed squeaks, one hard thrust away from breaking. Fitting. So is he. Your right hand moved up his cheekbone, past his ear and to the back of his head. Your touch is gentle, barely-there pressure as you guide him down to slant your mouth over his. His heart aches with love, adoration, you. You’ve made it your home. 

Yet again he is denied release as the memory is gone. The room is empty. 

“Fuck.”

It’s not graceful the way he stalks out of the room. No more interruptions, he thinks. 

The last door in the corridor. Yours. And his. Your marital chambers, as Duncan would call it. Old fashioned bastard. 

He pushes it open without as much as a knock. And there you are. 

“Felix!” You cross the room in seconds and then you’ve thrown yourself in his arms. “We missed you!”

Your rounded stomach presses into him. He rests his forehead on yours, pressing long, soft kisses against your lips, even as you giggle and try to move away. When you do, he chases after you. He’s not done. Never done. 

His legs feel like jelly, his soul is on fire, 

but he finally found you.

In a house full of memories and vengeful ghosts he found you. 

And you saw him, as you always do, and he’s tugged back into bed with the comforting weight of you pressing him down into the mattress. 

And he’s almost content. 

Almost. 

Taglist:

@fedyascoffin

[hyvyinjie]

CHANCE.

TW! implications of death.

bittersweet! melancholic

t. muichiro x f. reader

graciously requested by @muuumuiiii ! thank you so much for requesting, you sweet lovely lad<3

who would have anticipated it? the mist hashira, of all individuals, displaying a concern that surpassed anyone else's for you—the spirit pillar; a warrior whose technique came at the steep cost of a gradual erosion of your life.

THE MOON; THE BRIGHTEST PEARL SUSPENDED IN OUR VELVET SKY THAT FLOODED THE INKY DARKNESS WITH ITS SILVER GLOW.

a radiant disc it was. casting its ethereal glow upon the shadows of the night, while also heralding the relentless onslaught of a few infamous entities—demons.

a symbol of hope, this pale sentinel embodied a goddess-like presence, standing as a timeless guardian, observing the earth with an unwavering gaze as warriors valiantly battled the monstrous creatures scattered throughout.

above, the luminous orb commanded the vast expanse of stars, illuminating them all. yet, even in this peaceful night, two particular slayers found themselves immersed in the serenity, although one seemed burdened by a more pressing concern, far beyond the tranquility itself.

in a world where such creatures roamed, the perfect harmony would remain elusive.

thus, what purpose did survival serve if death constantly loomed, a persistent visitor at one's very doorstep?

well, the purpose of life is to be happy. or at least, that's what this young man believed.

said boy possessed an acute understanding of this belief, as if it had become ingrained in the very fabric of his being—an awareness that, perhaps, bordered on the excessive.

the sheer ecstasy of savoring every moment of existence, embracing its essence in its entirety, was undeniably a remarkable achievement—a feat that deserved to be celebrated with fervor.

thus, he found himself utterly incapable of comprehending—indeed, he never had—how she could nonchalantly dismiss the imminent cessation of her own existence, as if it were a trifling matter. the weight of her disregard for her own life gnawed at him, like a persistent ache that defied understanding.

..then again, had he been any different?

"—and…now you’re spacing out, again.”

ah, the sound of that melodious voice; both longed for and dreaded, resonated within him and snapped him out of his reverie. even though he had incessantly poured out his thoughts to her since he awakened from his coma, with her faithfully by his side, deep in slumber—despite her own exhaustion—she had remained.

as your words echoed in his ears, he shifted his gaze to meet your own—and oh, those eyes.

he would give anything to forever witness his own reflection in the depths of your eyes.

in a mesmerizing dance, your gazes intertwined; an exquisite tapestry woven with delicate threads of connection.

he couldn't help but be entranced by the sheer magnificence of your irises—their majesty akin to rare crystalline treasures, gleaming beneath the majestic canopy of the nocturnal sky.

as a gentle zephyr whispered sweet nothings, its delicate touch caressed their beings, a tender embrace from the invisible hands of nature. he watched, his eyelids descending to a half-closed state, surrendering to the enchanting symphony of the night.

the breeze, like a playful sprite, felt as if it alone, could carry away his worries and sorrows, dispersing them into the velvety darkness.

yet, amidst this reposeful tranquility, a question lingered in the depths of his soul, an enigma that remained elusive and enigmatic.

it was one of the few riddles that continued to elude his grasp, an enigmatic puzzle that defied comprehension, regardless of whether he had regained his former self or not.

why, he pondered ever so deeply, did your well-being hold such profound significance to him?

why did his heart ache with an inexplicable yearning to protect you, to ensure the radiance within you remained untouched by the shadows of the world? it was as if his very purpose revolved around safeguarding your light, shielding it from the encroaching darkness threatening to dim its brilliance.

no, he never intended to diminish your worth in any way.

on the contrary—he understood, with a profound certainty, that you’re fully capable of caring for yourself alone.

yet, despite his awareness, a veil of mystery draped over his consciousness—that of a delicate wisp of mist teasing the boundaries of his understanding. it remained tantalizingly close, yet perpetually out of his reach, an enigma that eluded his grasp.

similarly elusive was the faint, almost imperceptible yet weighty pang in his heart each time his gaze flickered to your bandages that dressed your wounds.

he struggled to fathom its origins, to decipher the emotions that coursed through him with every glance. was it concern, fear, or something different altogether?

of course, he chastised himself for overreacting. after all, you were healing, weren't you?

...right?

at least, that was the relentless mantra he repeated to himself, like a haunting melody, a lullaby of self-deception.

perhaps it was a lie he constructed, a defense mechanism to shield himself from the harsh reality. deep down, he knew all too well that you were pushing yourself to the brink, sacrificing fragments of your own well-being to save countless others from the clutches of death.

how he yearned to tell you—to implore you—to cease using the very essence that slowly, yet inexorably, eroded your own vitality. the desire to shield you from the self-inflicted harm, consumed him.

yet, who was he to stand in your way?

who was he to dictate how you should pursue your purpose—your solemn vow? who had the right to demand that you discard the only technique you knew, as if acquiring a new skill were a trivial matter?

perhaps, for you, it had maybe once been a tangible option—a plausible alternative.

however, it clashed with the very reason why you chose to persist in wielding the power of spirit breathing, despite its unfortunate and devastating toll on your own being.

it was a conundrum that weighed heavily upon his soul, yet another conflict that tugged at the frayed edges of his limited understanding.

then, abruptly—his consciousness snapped back to reality, like a fragile dream shattered by the gentle sweep of a waving hand.

in that instant, the symphony of your voice, a sweet and melodious tune, graced his senses once more, stirring his spirit from its slumber.

"hello? earth to tokito?"

your words danced in the air, adorned with a delicate blend of amusement and genuine concern—whilst he, silently observed your actions. his gaze lingering for a fleeting moment, as if capturing the essence of your graceful movements.

soon enough, his eyes blinked, like a dormant star awakening to illuminate the night sky, as he finally stirred from his reverie.

with a subtle tilt of his head, he emitted a soft hum—a melodic expression that intertwined intrigue and acknowledgment in response to your beckoning. the notes of his hum danced through the air, a secretive melody that conveyed both his curiosity and the recognition of your presence.

meanwhile, you watched him with an internal sigh of relief.

the young man, whom you had believed to be forever lost in the bewitching realm of his perpetual daydreams, had returned to the realm of the present. the transformation within him, from introspective to effervescent, had you spellbound, never failing to leave you even in but a speck of awe, of these rare moments of clarity that graced his being.

"seems like someone's finally awake."

a faint smile blossoming upon your lips, akin to the first delicate bloom of a spring flower. lowering your hand with graceful grace,

you adjusted yourself to a more comfortable position beside him on the edge of the engawa outside the butterfly manor—a perch where you and him had been leisurely spending time together, without a care in the world, rambling on about. relishing in the comfort in one another’s presence—like a normal pair of souls basking in the way of life.

"you’ve been staring at me for quite a while.”

pausing for a breath, you tilted your head—the radiance of your irises blooming with an enchanting glow, as if the secrets of the universe were hidden within their depths.

"what's wrong?"

in the midst of an enchanting moment, a subtle hint of wounded innocence played across your seductive countenance, evoking a mysterious allure.

"do i look that bad?"

your voice, though as mellow and gentle as always, carried an underlying touch of vulnerability.

in an instant, he reacted, tilting his head with a subtle mixture of surprise and denial.

"what? no."

aa he blinked, his words slipped out absent-mindedly, like a whisper from a dreamer's lips.

"far from it, actually."

he confessed, his sincerity palpable.

with a gaze that held a painter's eye for detail, he saw your flaws not as imperfections, but as intricate brush strokes that added depth to the masterpiece of your being. inexplicably, he adored you, to the point where it practically pained him.

and who could blame him? for you were way more than a mere beauty that could be captured in words. you were a tapestry of emotions, a symphony of sensations that defied description.

to him, you are everything.

your brows raised slightly, captivated by his ever-unpredictable nature. truly, like the wind, he embraced the freedom to wander in any direction he pleased.

reminiscent of an owl, you blinked a plenty amount of times, momentarily stunned by the sheer audacity of his flattery. it seeped into the recesses of your heart, stirring a delicate blend of bashfulness and gratitude.

"then..."

unintentionally mimicking his gestures, as if dancing in synchrony with his spirit, you then asked, avidly yearning to explore the depths of his thoughts.

"mind sharing what's got you so..distant?"

although it was not deemed uncommon for him, of all individuals, to maintain a silent disposition, you possessed a deeper understanding—having witnessed something greater, something more.

despite the mere span of a few days, you stood as a crucial observer to the sudden shift in his demeanor. having been privy to a bewildering yet endearingly interactive side of the boy since his awakening, it became slightly disconcerting to witness him potentially regress into his characteristic, distant, and dazed state.

the memory of those extraordinary moments lingered, and it was disheartening to question whether they were mere illusions or if they held the promise of something genuine.

as of now, the male in question pressed his lips together, creating a slender line as his gaze wandered away from yours, as though searching for a brief respite from reality.

seeing this, you reassured him. carefully observing these subtle occurrences with your keen irises.

"you don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

responding with a weary shake of his head and a sigh escaping his lips, his gaze flickered back to you, and as his eyes connected with yours once more, a subtle softness overcame them.

truly breathtaking were his eyes. they possessed a hue reminiscent of emerald, yet they gleamed like the replesdent glow of the moon above.

however, what truly captured your attention was the way his brows furrowed just as the corner of his lips downturned, for internally—a cascade of emotions crashed upon him all at once. moreover, a despairing layer seemed to coat his eyes, a poignant sorrow that caught you off guard.

"i don't like it."

he stated firmly, his words hanging in the air, leaving you perplexed.

your head tilted slightly further, eyes widening as you regarded him with curiosity and intrigue.

in response, he raised a hand to the area where his heart resided, his gaze lowering and narrowing towards the ground beneath you both.

"this feeling..."

his voice carried a weight of uncertainty, gaze delicately shifted back to meet yours—and in that moment, you could have sworn you saw his frown deepen as the hint of sorrow on his features became even more pronounced.

"and knowing you could..."

he trailed off, unable to bring himself to complete his sentence. yet, the unfinished words were enough for you to grasp the essence of his meaning.

your brows upturned, sensing the profound depth of emotions he struggled to express fully through words. you had a hunch that it might be something like this, but witnessing his reaction with such intensity was, without a doubt, enough to evoke a painful ache in anyone's heart.

the desire to comfort him welled up within you, an overwhelming longing to ease his burdens. yet, you couldn't help but question how you could possibly offer reassurance.

would it be by telling a blatant lie about something that was inevitable?

now, that would be nothing short of cruelty, no?

to suggest that you would overcome it would only exacerbate the pain. moreover, you were uncertain how to approach the situation without inadvertently triggering a devastating chain of events in the unavoidable future.

truth be told, if he were anyone else, you might have dismissed the matter with a casual remark, wouldn't you?

but with him, it was different.

you couldn't bring yourself to say so.

unable to find the right words in that moment, your gaze somberly shifted away from his, fixating on a distant point ahead. yet, in a sudden and unexpected instant, you were taken aback as you felt the weight of something new but vaguely familiar resting upon your shoulder—soft strands of supple hair gently brushing against you. along with it came a delicate warmth, enveloping you in an oddly soothing sensation.

"you don't have to say anything."

he quietly uttered, his honeyed voice carrying a mix of vulnerability and reassurance. he simply needed to release his thoughts into the open, to let them be heard, even if it was just a single sentence.

there had been no intention to pressurize or burden you, but rather a desire to be the one offering reassurance while subtly seeking comfort himself.

in a silent plea to convince himself that he wasn't caught in a dream, he gingerly leaned his head against your shoulder, and though was making sure not to add any more damage to your wounds, he did so without a hint of regret.

your heart skipped a beat, overwhelmed by the depth of his actions. turning your attention back to him, you found solace in this unspoken gesture of support. that tender gesture conveyed a profound understanding, a connection that surpassed the boundaries of words. it was a silent reassurance; of ones comforting presence for the other, especially in the face of uncertainty.

a sentimental smile graced your features as you felt immense gratitude for his selfless deeds. even in this moment, he made sure you were as comfortable as possible, going above and beyond to provide solace. the warmth of his actions filled you with a deep sense of appreciation and reinforced the unmatched bond between you.

"..thank you,"

you whispered in a hushed breath, your voice carrying the weight of profound appreciation.

though the words seemed simple, they held within them an entire universe of gratitude—a universe that bloomed with vivid colors, dreamlike aspirations, and meaningful connections.

with a delicate grace, you lifted your hand and allowed your fingertips to dance upon the canvas of his raven tresses. each strand, like a silken thread, wove a tapestry of sensations beneath your touch.

the texture was soft and supple, akin to the gentle caress of a summer breeze. as your fingers glided through the ebony strands, you embarked on a journey of intricate care, smoothing out the knots that dared to disrupt the harmony.

in this intimate act, time seemed to suspend, creating a space where the world faded away, leaving only the two of you in a transcendent moment. your touch, as mindful as the brushstrokes of an artist, traced a path of tenderness and care. each movement held intention, a pledge to protect and cherish him, ensuring no harm would befall his vulnerable spirit.

It was a silent symphony, where the language of trust and gratitude flowed effortlessly through the whispers of your fingertips.

as you continued this tender ministration, a vibrant tapestry of emotions unfurled within the depths of your heart. gratitude, like a delicate fragrance, mingled with a sense of wonder, weaving a spellbinding combination.

the tenderness you shared painted a tableau, akin to a cherished memory, where hues of warmth, understanding, and appreciation blended harmoniously.

pleased by your touch, a contented hum escaped your companion's lips, his eyes finding solace in the comfortable embrace of closed lids.

a smile, brimming with emotions, blossomed upon his visage, a testament to the profound impact of your presence.

his heart fluttered with a bittersweet ache, caught between the beauty of the present and the uncertainty of the future.

yet, even in the face of daunting odds, a glimmer of hope persisted within him. it discreetly clung to his being, refusing to be extinguished.

it was undeniably a childlike hope, both fragile and resilient; to yearn for the possibility of a miraculous turn of events.

still, muichiro wanted to embrace that chance, to patiently wait for the magic of a future with you.

[sublimitymp3]

for yandere aemond, aegon, daemon and criston, maybe how do they deal with their love having a lover they are not willing to give up even after marriage? Thank you very much for time you are amazing👀❤

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Aemond fell in love with you instantly when you two met. He never particularly liked the idea of being wedded to someone he did not know, but once he saw your sweet face, his worries drifted away. However, he had noticed your reluctance and apprehension to be around him. He thought nothing of it, chalking it up to you having the same opinions of arranged marriages as he once did. Aemond was sure that by the time you two were wed, you'd warm up to him

He was extremely wrong.

You were never cruel or particularly cold to him, you just never gave him any affection or attention as he would. You would dodge his kisses, wipe the ones he did leave on your cheek off, and you treated him more like an acquaintance rather than a husband. He had noticed you would receive letters from time to time, keeping them close to you and being overtly protective of them, and how flustered you'd look after reading them. This only served to make him even more curious about their apparent special contents. One night, Aemond would find the little box where you had stashed the letters. Curiosity got the better of him, and he began reading the various pieces of parchment. A silent rage began to fill him as he discovered they were love letters, exchanged with someone from the Riverlands, your birthplace. He would burn each letter that night, hatching plans to separate you from this secret lover. He'd intercept each and every letter your lover would send to you, reading them with annoyance before burning them in the fireplace. He could see the emotional toll it was taking on you. Your lover had abruptly ceased their communications with you, with no explanation. You wondered if they had grown tired of you, or if they were incapacitated. You were growing sad, and Aemond was always there, though you tried your best to brush him off in hopes another letter would come for you. Eventually, when three months had passed and no new letter was sent, you'd come crying to Aemond, and he'd welcome you with open arms.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Aegon adored you. You were everything he was not, dutiful, kind, and cheerful. He admired you, and he genuinely felt so much love for you, despite you not knowing each other for long. While you were always friendly towards your new husband, you never were quite affectionate with him. He would try to win you over, stealing kisses from you and spoiling you with lavish gifts. He tried for months it seems to charm you, but to no avail. It was clear you had no romantic interest in Aegon, and he found himself slipping into old habits.

It was a brisk night, the cold breeze causing most people to wear heavy cloaks made of wool. Aegon was drunk in some alehouse, drowning his sorrows in his cups. In his peripheral vision, he could've sworn he saw you, huddled in the corner with a large cloak draped over you, and with some man. But he brushed it off as his drunken mind playing tricks on him. He focused back on his cups, but he couldn't shake how similar that woman looked to you. He fully turned around, squinting his eyes in an attempt to clear his blurry vision. Once his eyes were focused and clear, he saw that it was indeed you, with another man. His eyes nearly bulged out of his head when he saw you sharing kisses and loving touches with this stranger. It finally started to make sense to him why you insisted on keeping your relationship with Aegon strictly platonic.

Aegon would go classic Yandere at this point. He'd confine you to your chambers so you wouldn't be able to meet this man anymore. He would probably have his more...sketchy acquaintances deal with the man, eliminating him completely. You would cry and plead with Aegon to just let you go, to allow you to continue to see your lover, but your attempts to sway him were futile. He'd kiss you, whether you liked it or not, and he'd breed you until he was certain you were pregnant, simply another way to keep you anchored to him. Aegon was never much of a patient man, but he'd gladly wait until you accepted him as your one and only love.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Daemon was no stranger to marriage, having been wedded twice already, to Lady Rhea Royce and Lady Laena Velaryon. He was quite sad over the manner in which his second wife had died, and he had truly loved her. Though, he didn't show his sadness, preferring to keep up his appearance of indifference. But then, he couldn't help but let his eyes linger on you at her funeral. You were the daughter of a wealthy merchant who resided at Spicetown, and he was quickly smitten with you.

You were wedded to Daemon not long after, as your father was ecstatic when Daemon asked for your hand. Your father had considered it a great honor and blessing that a Targaryen prince had asked to wed you, and he didn't care to take your feelings into consideration when he accepted the offer. Daemon had observed you were rather closed off and reluctant toward him, but figured your apprehension was either due to how your father wedded you off like it was nothing, or maybe even his reputation as the "rogue prince." When you came to Daemon one day asking to visit Spicetown so you may see your father, he agreed. He wasn't going to keep you from the only family you had, and he somewhat enjoyed the seaside town and its simplicity. Once there, your behavior changed. You were acting a bit shifty, and you weren't even spending much time with your father, instead staying out and about, always disappearing off. Daemon decided to follow you one day, not caring if you discovered him and got angry at him for doing so. he watched you go to a pier, and talk with some fisherman. Maybe he was an old friend or a friend of your father's? But jealousy began to hinder his judgment, and even more so when he saw you kissing the man.

Daemon clearly thinks little of the consequences of his actions, and so he'd stride over, cutting the man down with Dark Sister. He'd drag you roughly by your wrist back to your father and have you say goodbye. Once back home, do not think your actions would go unpunished. Like Aegon, he'd lock you in your chambers, slowly taking away freedoms and making you dependent on him. He didn't care if you hated him, in time he'd make you understand his actions.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Ser Criston had quickly taken notice of you, a new serving girl. You were always timid around him whenever he tried to make idle conversation, something he found adorable. As the queen's sworn shield there were not many times he could speak to you, but at night when he was posted outside her door, you would walk by, holding various cleaning supplies. Then he would stop you to make friendly conversation. Slowly but surely, he was falling in love with you.

One night, Ser Criston would stop you once more. You had assumed he would make more conversation with you, but you were surprised when he dragged you off. He would sneak you both out of the Red Keep and into the city, finding some drunken Septon and forcing him to wed you two. You were so in shock, that you barely protested, and you were now his wife.

Ser Criston was so fond of you, and how timid you continued to be around him. He had forsaken his vows just to be with you, and he would not so subtly remind you of this, in some way to guilt you into keeping quiet about your marriage. And you did feel guilty for having a lover when Ser Criston had risked his integrity and honor to be with you, but you didn't ask to wed him, and that was his own doing and of no fault of yours. One day, while Ser Criston was making his way to his own quarters for rest, he saw you stealing kisses with some lowly stable boy. After all he had risked to be with you, this is how you repaid him? No, Ser Criston wouldn't stand for it.

The next night, when you were approaching the hall where the queen's chambers resided, and where your dear husband was stationed, you noticed how...angry he looked. You would slow your footsteps down, dreading approaching him, but it was inevitable. He would roughly grab you when you finally were near, making you drop your cleaning supplies to the ground. He'd hold your face tightly with one hand, threatening your position as a serving girl, your only source of income. He would make you swear that you'd never see the stable boy again, lest something terrible should happen to him. All you could do was helplessly nod your head in agreement, and hope Ser Criston would spare you both.

[ncoincidences]

All the fics I read this year, part 1: ship I read most this year —

It's James/Lily !! I've read about 80 fics for Jily this year! I've linked them all down below and limited myself to describe every fic in only a line to fit Tumblr's 4066-character limit (I don't think I did any of them justice though ,:) they're all amazing and incredible in their own way). They're not sorted in any order - it's a chaotic mess ,,:,,)

Kindly Stopped for Me* by @nodirectionhome-ao3 - Lily survives AU, an angsty fic with great badass Lily moments!

Lay All Your Love On Me* by @athenasparrow - Jily Hogwarts fic that also has smut :D

The Art of Identification by Athenasparrow - cute one-shot featuring amortentia :D

She Will by @relyingonoldships - ANGSTY! gather your napkins. I have warned you.

The Summer I fell in Love* by @annasghosts - Muggle meet cute + summer love <3

Finding Lily by Annasghosts - unique premise + fake dating for the win :D

Things That Haven't Happened Yet by @kay-elle-cee - SMUT

the silence in the sorrow by kay-elle-cee - secret relationship during war + battle angst

to ache, to hope by kay_elle_cee - unplanned pregnancy that explores both James and Lily's emotions

i'll be fine, i'll be good* by kay-elle-cee - Slytherin!Lily AU focussed on Lily's character + secret relationship

Tall Dark and Glasses by @jamesunderwater - lovely writing and a heart-melting meet cute!

Meet Me At The River by @charmsandtealeaves - PEN PALS JILY, absolutely adorable fic!

Laundry Day by charmsandtealeaves - cheeky fic

Midnight Dip by charmsandtealeaves - ALSO cheeky 😏

Call Me By Name by charmsandtealeaves - feat. Phone Call sex 😏 and strangers to lovers!

Incoming by charmsandtealeaves 'call me by name' but James POV and it's so good!!

Wake Me Up (When September Ends)* by charmsandtealeaves - Hogwarts Jily 7th year coming of age :)

Love Birds by charmsandtealeaves - fluffy ridiculous rom com au where James cannot be separated from his accidentally acquired duck and Lily is a gorgeous vet :D also features insanely cute doodles :D

Something Black and Blue by charmsandtealeaves - what's making Lily Evans so late to her own wedding?

Sugar Quills by charmsandtealeaves - SWEET x

Padfoot's Nose Knows by charmsandtealeaves - indeed sirius can smell the good news from a mile away!

The Exchange Principle by charmsandtealeaves - cute body swap fic!

Nom De Plume by AnnaBtG - !!!!! unique concept! secret erotica writer James needs Lily (his coworker who's totally NOT his muse) to pretend to be his persona but Lily hates his guts...... or does she 😏

Haircut by PetalsToFish - James gets a new haircut!!

Lipstick by PetalsToFish - James bought Lily a lipstick and she's trying it out 😏

WILF by PetalsToFish - Wizard I'd Like to Fuck 😏

Reputation (Wildest Dreams Version) by PetalsToFish - Slytherin!Lily + enemies to lovers fic <3

State of Grace (Never Saw You Coming) by PetalsToFish - Lily never saw James coming..... literally. a car accident meet-cute (no one's hurt tho :))

Prodigal by PetalsToFish - slightly angsty, exploring Lily through her years at Hogwarts from first year

Girl Crush by PetalsToFish - actually Peter's POV centred around Jily

*[The asterisks next to a fic indicate that I haven't caught up to the latest chapter update]

[mncxbe]

Hi, I really like your work, you are very reverent and diligent with each submission. I would also like to ask you to write a story where the reader gained weight and started to feel insecure in society, relationship with her boyfriend ( could it be Chuya, Dazai, Fedor?). Thank you so much. I hope I got the message across. Have a great week!

anon you're so polite omg- I love this idea hhh. Hope you like it♡♡

10:43♡

𝑫𝒂𝒛𝒂𝒊, 𝑪𝒉ū𝒚𝒂, ��𝒚𝒐𝒅𝒐𝒓 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: light angst/ fluff♡

𝑻𝑾: mentions of eating disorders and poor body image

𝑫𝒂𝒛𝒂𝒊

this man does not care about your weight. like at all; he thinks you're beautiful either way

that's why he's so surprised when you tell him you're insecure

he hears you out and tries his best to soothe you

from then on he's really supportive and always reassures you that gaining a few pounds doesn't make you less worthy in his eyes

secretely keeps track of how much you eat because he doesn't want you to neglect your diet or develop an eating disorder

"Bella..." he sighed as soon as you were done talking. For the first time since the two of you started dating, Dazai looked hurt, chocolate brown eyes shadowed with sorrow.

His sad expression only worsened your mood. Your breath hitched, words stuck at the back of your throat as you felt the tears pooling at your lashline.

"I'm sorry I shouldn't have said all that. It's stupid" you muttered, averting your gaze from his but he quickly hooked a finger under your chin, making you face him.

"My love I'm not mad at you for telling me that. I just... wish you'd told me sooner"

Indeed, during the past few weeks Dazai had noticed your unusual behaviour; you weren't that affectionate towards him, always spending hours on end in front of the mirror, checking yourself out, eating less. At first, Dazai assumed that your appetite reduced because of the high temperatures during summer; after all, he himself ate less during those months, but when you refused to shower or sleep with him he knew something was wrong.

So he sat you down on the couch and asked you what it was all about. You hesitantly told him about how you've started feeling self conscious about your body, how you've gained weight and struggled to lose it, to be the pretty for him.

As you spoke, you noticed Dazai's expression slowly darken. He couldn't comprehend what you were saying. You, ugly? You, his sweet girl, not feeling worthy of his love just because you gained a few pounds? You, starving yourself every day because you thought he'd rather have you not eating than being chubby?

Despite how much your words affected him, this wasn't about him; so he wiped every trace of sadness from his expression and smiled.

"I wish you'd told me sooner. I could've helped you, you know?" he continued

"But how? Really Dazai this isn't your fault. You can't help me with this" you sniffled, wiping your nose with the back of your hand; which caused a mellow laughter to roll past your boyfriend's lips.

His hand slid up your cheek, thumb lightly tracing over your cheekbone as he held your gaze.

"I know bella, but I could've reminded you that to me you're the most beautiful woman. If you wanna get back in shape that's alright, but don't put too much pressure on yourself, ok?"

You gave a weak nod and his smile widened. Kissing your tears away, his arms snaked around your frame, pulling you flush against him. Your head came to rest against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling you into a peaceful state.

"Thank you Osamu. I think really needed you to say that" you eventually spoke up and he chuckled, gently threading his fingers through your hair.

"Anytime bella, Anytime"

𝑪𝒉ū𝒚𝒂

just like his partner in crime, Chuya is also surprised when you confess you're insecure about your weight

he starts rambling on about how today's society pushes unrelalistic beauty standars on women and all that

threatens to "deal with" whoever calls you fat or makes you feel self conscious about your weight

but after he calms down a bit he reminds you that you're gorgeous either way

like hell, he even likes you more like this honestly. he adores your curves

It's been around half an hour since your boyfriend started his diatribe and he showed no sign of stopping. What started off as a simple conversation- you telling him that you've developed an insecurity abour weight- ended up with him ranting and raving about beauty standards and how low society has become.

"Seriously now, it's fucked up" he decalred as he downed the last sips of wine; red liquid tinting his lips crimson. "I mean, really. You're absolutely stunning as you are. You don't need to look like those models in magazines."

"I don't want that Chuu I just..." you stammered, fumbling for words.

"I know sweetie. You wanna lose a few pounds and if you really want that I'll support you. After all, it's kinda my fault you gained weight, right?" he asked with a chuckle "Considering all the dinners I took you to..."

His comment lightened the mood, a little smile creeping on your face. "You know it's not your fault honey, really. I just need to be more careful with what I eat in general"

Chuuya sighed, placing the empty glass on a table nearby. He took your hand in his, fingers gently intertwining with yours. "Look sweetie, if you wanna lose weight it's ok. But please know you don't need to do this to be beautiful, because you already are. You're my pretty girl"

A gentle smile rose to his lips as he leaned in to place a kiss on your forehead. "And if anyone else tells you that you're not I'll personally teach them a lesson. You can count on me sugar."

His tender words managed to soothe your soul a bit so you nodded, returning the smile.

"You know Chuu, you don't have to go that far"

"I'll go as far as you want me to baby"

For a brief moment, his cloudy gaze slid down your body, taking in your frame; sparkling. His arm snaked around the small of your back, pulling you closer as his wine tinged lips found the crook of your neck, tracing idle kisses along your skin. You gasped lightly at the sudden closeness, causing your boyfriend to chuckle.

"Now lemme show you exactly how much I adore you, sweetheart"

𝑭𝒚𝒐𝒅𝒐𝒓

he's actually the one who brings up the subject of your weight

he notices that you've been more reserved lately, that you haven't eaten that much so he asks you to talk about it

and when you tell him you're insecure about the weight you gained he thinks it's utterly ridiculous

naturally, he doesn't voice his thoughts, not wanting to make you feel worse than you do already

instead, he takes your hand in his and kisses it gently and reassures you that to him you'll always be the most beautiful woman. so you needn't worry about gaining weight

The cup of steaming tea stood untouched on the nightstand, lavender steam raising from its surface. Beside you on the silky sheets, your partner sighed.

"So... myshka. Are you going to tell me what's going on or do you plan on keeping it to yourself?"

You shrugged, still not facing him. "What do you mean? Everything is alright my dear"

Your voice feigned nonchalance but Fyodor caught the faint trace of worry; he shifted closer to you, wrapping an arm around your waist.

"Come on now, don't be difficult. I know you and I can tell when something's wrong, so please talk to me" his breath fanned over the shell of your ear, comforting, as his hand traced over your hip.

He could feel your body tense under his touch and he reluctantly pulled his hand away. "Please myshka"

He sounded defeated, sadness lacing his voice. Guilt started seeping into your soul and you finally turned around to face him.

"Look, it's nothing just... one of my colleagues at work pointed out that I got a bit fat and it's been on my mind"

A faint chuckle rolled past your boyfriend's lips upon hearing your words. Wrapping an arm around your shoulder, he pulled you closer to his frame.

"Oh you silly girl" he smiled, fingers gently lacing in your hair "You really got upset over something like that?"

A faint blush tinted your cheeks and you hid your face against his chest. "Don't laugh at me please. I know it's silly but... she was right, you know?

"It's not silly my dear. I'm just surprised it got to you. And what if you gained a bit of weight? You're just as beautiful as you've always been"

"You don't have to say that just for my sake"

"But I'm not" he chuckled "I say it because it's true. Now don't worry your pretty head over it." He used a finger to gently raise your chin, making you face him "Just sleep for now"

Peppering your face with kisses, he squeezed your waist tighter.

His saccharine affections managed to lull you into a deep slumber; Fyodor always had this effect on you, gently coaxing all the bad feelings out of you as if scooping them with a spoon and tossing them in the deep blue sea to be drowned forever.

"Thank you dear" you muttered, lips curling into a mellow smile. "I love you"

"I love you too, myshka" he sighed, kissing you once again before closing his eyes.

[moonchildxoxx]

A Life once wished for a long forgotten memory

A/N: You are responsible for your own media consumption.  MDNI 18+ . the name comes from the idea that Tsu'tey wanted a warriors death so he could join his old love in the after life. but that was no longer a thought in his head because he was happy with his love and baby . also i realized a bit was missing so i added it that why it was edited.

Pairing: Tsu’tey x Fem!Omatikaya! Reader,

Word count: 1.296

Synopsis: tsu'tey survived the war he went on to lead the omatikaya for a decked before the threat of sky people loomed once more. it was decided that he must take a mate to secure the clan's future and ease the people's worries. he never thought he'd be so happy once more

[ Request are open]

Master List

Rules

Edit: 02/29/2023

When the war ended Tsu'tey had thought that was the end of him as well and he was at peace with that idea. But Jake sully refused to accept and do the duty of Olo’eyktan claiming that he would not lose another brother. Once Tsu’tey healed he continued to lead the Omatikaya for a decade before his life changed once more Jake sully had warned the clans that the sky people could very well return. They knew they had 12 years before they returned but if they returned it would be soon. Mo’at had come to Tsu’tey telling him that a time of great sorrow would be upon them soon once more. Once this was discussed with the council it was decided Tsu’tey couldn’t remain unmated the people would feel more assured if the clan had a secured future meaning he’d have to take a mate and have an heir. Mo’at chose (Y/N) who was a young girl, the granddaughter of one of her old friends and also one of her healing students that showed a promising future. She and him had been given a few months to get to know each other and courtship. He never thought he'd find love again, not after what happened with his promised mate.

soon they had become close. She a sweet and gentle girl and he’d later lean she was also one not afraid to put him in his place. Omatikaya had a feast celebrating their Olo’eyktan mating, late into the feast during Tsu’tey lead (Y/N) to the sacred gathering place under the great mother's watch and She swallowed nervously looking around Tsu'teys voice was calm and gentle as he took her hand and walked into the soft glow of the tree "have no fear little one no one will come looking for us until we return to the clan " he said softly stroking her arms gently

"our great mother wants us to be together I promise no harm will come to you as long as I’m here"

~ A few weeks later ~

Tsu'tey returned to their hut after a day of attending to his duties. she was crouching by the fire preparing their evening meal. a smile crossed his face. He crouched next to her she leaned over and kissed him gently

he smiled and returned the kiss then sat down by her by the fire "I have been thinking of something"

" an what would that be ?" She countered back. he sighed looking at her for a moment before speaking "there is something I would like to ask you". “ I'm listening" she hummed

a faint blush appeared on his cheeks as he looked down to his hands for a moment then back to her it was obvious that this was hard for him "I think it’s time we actively tired for a child " She laughed softly

he looked slightly confused by her laughter "I was not joking" he said with a slight frown at her reaction.

She smiled " I may have beat you to this discussion " his eyes widened shocked and then he looked at her stomach "are you saying" he looked excited and slightly nervous "are you indeed with child" She nodded yes " I wanted to make sure before I said anything" he was overcome with joy and excitement he couldn't believe that their child was already inside of her he leaned over and gave her a deep long kiss smiling at her the entire time "we are truly blessed by the great mother I cannot believe this"

~Months later ~

Tsu'tey returned to their hut after being away for the day leading a hunting party she was by the fire weaving a smile crossed his face when he walked in he was exhausted "little one l am home" he said softly when he saw her he walked over to her and leaned down placing many small kisses on her head and and neck "the hunting party was successful"

"That is good to hear" she leaned over and kissed him gently

his breath was heavy and he sighed softly when she kissed him

"I have brought back a good size kill for you and our young one “his hand moved to her stomach he felt a slight swelling that was not there when he had left for the hunting trip he smiled "our child grows strong every day"

~Months later ~

Tsu'tey had just returned from a hunt when one of his fellow warriors had told him that his mate was with the healers this immediately worried his as she was pregnant and quite far along he stormed to the healers quickly and with great concern when he entered he immediately spotted

(Y/N) laying on the bed "how long has she been like this?" he said to a nearby healer "Since last night her water broke a bit ago" answered one of the healers.

The healer next to her moved aside to let him stand next to his mate. he then turned back to his mate placing a hand gently on her cheek watching her as she struggled to keep the pain from taking over (Y/N) looked up at him with relief at seeing her mate

he could tell that she was still afraid but his presence alone had given her much needed strength " I'm scared Tsu'tey he’s to early “ his soft eyes were a stark contrast to the his normal harsh and calloused look . he spoke to her softly and gently his voice soft and low as he helped her breath slowly "our son will be strong I promise you he will but you must be strong too"

he placed a comforting hand on her cheek brushing his thumb against her cheek "do not fear my little one he will come when ready the great mother, she knows the best time for him to be born She nods gently

he continued to gently brush his thumb against her cheek as she laid there waiting for their son to make his grand entrance. She gripped his hand as she got pains "focus on your breathing" he said softly "breathe deep and slowly" he was gently stroking her hair to try and calm her more

She tired calming down "that's good that's good my little one you are strong" he gently brushed her hair away from her face as he looked in her eyes she looked at him as sweat dripped down her face "this is the most pain I have ever felt" she said through gritted teeth.

he nodded "it will be over soon my little one" he said softly stroking her hair "just hold on" she could feel the baby was almost here and her breathing was becoming shallow

as the baby was coming out of her she suddenly screamed loudly and Tsu'tey gripped her hand tightly the baby was coming out now and the pain was only getting worse

"you can do this my little one" he said as he stroked her arms and hair giving her the warmth of his hands and all his love "Push my little one!" he smiled at her as she did her hands gripped tightly around his hand and she took a few deep breaths as she pushed. their baby was born into the world the cries of a new life filling the air the baby was laid on her chest and she and Tsu'tey both looked down with tear filled eyes at the little one they had created together. "you were very brave little one" he said softly placing a soft kiss on her forehead before bending down and kissing the babies head "thank you for giving me this wonderful gift" he kissed her forehead and she could tell that he was very pleased "he's beautiful"

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© Moonchildxoxx 2023 | all rights reserved. do not republish, repost, steal, modify, translate or claim my work as your own.

[milliesfishes]

Ahhh can you please do Billy x reader who are struggling to get pregnant ☹️☹️ OR OR MAYBE a part 2 to your fic about Billy x reader who had a stillborn maybe reader gets pregnant again and they both freak out? I LOVE HOW YOU WRITE ANGST BTW MUAH

ty lovey!!!! ⋆౨ৎ𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓫𝓲𝓵𝓵𝔂 𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓾𝓰𝓰𝓵𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓰𝓮𝓽 𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓰𝓷𝓪𝓷𝓽⋆౨ৎ 𝓯𝓮𝓶 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻 𝔁 𝓫𝓲𝓵𝓵𝔂 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓴𝓲𝓭

Never before in your life had you been subscribed to old wives' tales. Young and naive, you always thought them purposeless stories born of boredom. Now as you were struggling with fertility, you realized they hadn't been entertainment. They'd been bringers of hope.

Indeed at this point there was nary a thing you hadn't tried. Potions, prayers, positions... you were running out of options. Billy was endlessly supportive, indulging every whim you introduced. It was only when you became distressed over your methods that he stepped in.

"Baby...stress is gonna make it worse," he murmured, holding you close and dropping his lips to the top of your head, rocking you back and forth. You'd been obsessing over moon cycles lately, working yourself into tears when you'd realized the supposed prime fertile days had passed for the time being. "It'll happen when it happens, sweetheart. All we can do is keep tryin."

When visions of cradles and swaddled bundles had filled your dreams, you'd confided in Billy immediately. He'd been more than receptive, and thus every conversation began. Late into the night, sweaty from the aftermath of your baby-making efforts, you'd laid snuggled in his arms and spoken excitedly of baby names, what it'd be like to have a little one.

The arrival of your monthly had rendered you devastated, but you'd kept up hope. It was only the first time. Surely soon your belly would begin to round, and you'd become joyful at the notion of the impending life growing inside.

But the second month bore no results. Nor did the third. Six months passed without any results, and with each monthly you became more despondent. It was taking a toll on Billy as well, you knew. But he showed no sign of it, holding you close, making love to you as many times as you needed. He never grew weary of reassuring you, making sure every motion was made with love.

He was endlessly patient with you, and it only made you love him more. There was one day in particular that he came home to you in tears on the bathroom floor, holding yourself around the waist, keeled over and sobbing. Immediately he got to his knees, gathering you in his arms and murmuring sweet nothings into your hair. "Oh my love...c'mere...oh, sweet girl, it's okay. I've gotcha darlin'. Whatsa matter?"

"I thought...maybe...I was...that there was a baby..." you hiccupped, words coming out in shuddering bursts. "But I just...got my...monthly...and I was so excited...and it hurts."

"Honey," Billy murmured, rubbing your back. "'m so sorry, sweetheart. I know it hurts. Everything's hurtin'. But you're gonna be okay."

"It's been months," you sniffled, tears soaking his shirt. "Months of trying and nothing. I don't know what's wrong with me-"

"Uh uh." Billy shook his head, shifting you in his arms to a more comfortable position. "Don't go blamin' yourself for a damn thing. 's not your fault. For all we know, it's me, sweet girl. Could be somethin' in my system."

"I want a baby. Your baby," you murmured, voice edging on sorrow as you fisted his shirt.

"I know...oh I know sweetheart," he whispered, kissing your head and sliding his arms more fully under you. "C'mere...c'mon let's getcha comfy."

Billy scooped you up with that strength that always made you swoon, carrying you with heavy footsteps to the bedroom. The next thing you knew, there was a soft mattress under your back, and his warm body was cradling your back. He nosed soft kisses into your hair, pulling the blanket up to your shoulders.

Though your anxiety was high, you allowed yourself to relax into his arms and succumb to his kisses. Eventually you calmed, the waves of emotion slow and steady and buried underneath the weight of his arms. You were perfectly still, practically melting into him.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, cheek pressed against his chest. His hand twitched in your hair, and then slid down to your shoulder.

"What're you sorry for?" he murmured, kissing the top of your head.

You closed your eyes. "You deserve someone who can give you babies."

"Honey." Billy rubbed your back, shaking his head. "Don't say that." You looked up, teary eyed, and he leaned down, kissing your forehead. "I ain't in this for babies. I'm in it for you."

Somewhere subconsciously you had known that but hearing him say it out loud nearly sent you into tears for an entirely different reason. Billy shifted you so your head was resting on his chest, pushing his hand soothingly into your hair and rubbing your scalp. "Sweetheart, if we're meant to have a baby it'll happen. But I'm just happy to have you."

Sighing softly, you snuggled into his chest, kissing him over his heart. His words struck a chord in you, and they were undeniably true. In all your worry and heartache, you had forgotten what was at the core of your desire. It was love. Love for him, love so powerful you wanted to create a life with him.

Your hand rubbed on his chest once, and he seemed to understand, tightening his arms around you. "Baby or no baby, you're my girl and that ain't ever gonna change. I love you."

"I love you," you echoed, breathing in and out, smiling at his hum of approval. "I love you and all that you are to me."

A baby would come when it needed to. For now you were merely grateful to have him.

[hier--soir]

may + june + july reads

the strange case of dr jekyll and mr hyde by r. l. stevenson [★★★★]

"Though so profound a double-dealer, I was in no sense a hypocrite; both sides of me were in dead earnest; I was no more myself when I laid aside restraint and plunged in shame, than when I laboured, in the eye of day, at the furtherance of knowledge or the relief of sorrow and suffering."

: ̗̀➛ a london lawyer, mr utterson, investigates strange occurrences between his old friend dr henry jekyll, and the evil edward hyde.

: ̗̀➛ a horror classic! coming in at a sweet 96-pages, it was easy to smash out in an evening. and despite the brevity of the text and the fact that it's over a century old, i found it insanely compelling and indeed pretty chilling at multiple points.

: ̗̀➛ there are some ridiculously funny lines in this. i believe he named the evil character hyde just so he could drop this banger: "'If he be Mr. Hyde,' he had thought, 'I shall be Mr. Seek.'"

: ̗̀➛ henry jekyll my sweet summer child, you flew way too close to the sun with this shit.

: ̗̀➛ "You must suffer me to go my own dark way." BARS.

babel: an arcane history by r. f. kuang [★★★★★]

"The poet runs untrammelled across the meadow. The translator dances in shackles."

: ̗̀➛ opening in the year 1828, a young boy from canton is orphaned by cholera and brought to london by a mysterious professor. he is trained in latin, ancient greek, and chinese, in preparation for the day he will attend oxford university's royal institute of translation - babel. the tower is the world's center for translation and silver-working, the magical craft that has so far brought unrivalled power to the british and supports the empire's ongoing colonisation of the world. but what happens when it is discovered that britain is pursuing an unjust war against china, and robin realises that serving babel means betraying his motherland.

: ̗̀➛ this book left me absolutely speechless. upon starting it i was immediately ashamed at how long it had taken me to pick this up considering all the hype. serious thanks to @seventeenpins for recommending this to me recently, you are the best for putting me onto this.

: ̗̀➛ beautifully crafted, incredibly intelligent, great central characters. i don't even know how to put into words what i felt about this one. and as someone who consumes a fair amount of translated literature [see: my love of ancient greek and roman classics] it tickled my interest around the biases and intricacy of translation so perfectly. you need to read it. please.

: ̗̀➛ have to include: "It should have been distressing. In truth, Robin found it was actually quite easy to put up with any degree of social unrest, as long as one got used to looking away."

: ̗̀➛ have to include #2: "So then where does that leave us? How can we conclude, except by acknowledging that an act of translation is then necessarily always an act of betrayal?"

: ̗̀➛ and absolutely cannot not include this iconic PBS diss: "He greatly enjoyed Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, though he could not say the same of the poems by her less talented husband, whom he found overly dramatic."

paradise rot by jenny hval [★★★★]

"But my dreams are full of apples, and in the dark my body slowly transforms into fruit: tonsils shrinking to seeds and lungs to cores. I dream of white flowers blossoming under my nails, as if under ice. Then my nails break, opening up like clams and in the finger flesh there are little sticky fruit pearls."

: ̗̀➛ jo is in a strange new country for university, living in a house with no walls, a roommate with no boundaries, and a home that seems increasingly more and more alive.

: ̗̀➛ so much piss in this one folks.

: ̗̀➛ jenny hval is a norwegian musician and this was her debut novel, and it was bizarre and haunting and disgusting and made me cringe and feel squeamish at many points, and yet i read it in one fell swoop. it grips you for 120-odd pages and when you're done it feels like you've been spit out disoriented.

mrs s by k. patrick [★★★]

"When she is not around, I invent her. When she is around, I invent her. It is not her fault."

: ̗̀➛ an australian butch lesbian travels to england to work in an elite boarding school, where she meets mrs s, the headmaster's wife. over a hot, restless summer, the two engage in an affair.

: ̗̀➛ i enjoyed this one decently enough. the writing style grew a bit tiresome, and the storyline seemed quite laissez-faire, but overall yes i enjoyed it. what can also grow tiresome for me is the woman-on-woman affair when one of them is married to a man - but maybe i've just read too much queer lit with no foreseeable happy ending lately, idk.

: ̗̀➛ the way the dialogue was structured [or perhaps, unstructured to a painful extent] was not my cup of tea at all.

: ̗̀➛ i was really tickled by her living in an annexe so close to the school nurse, who is very religious. the dynamic gave way to great passages like this: "I imagine her, at night, sending prayers my way, so sweet as to be malicious. In each of our interactions there is always the feeling that I would do better under her God. I don't mind her God, so tangible. The sexy Jesus in her bedroom. His body I too would die to have. Not just the chest but the legs, a footballer's legs, complex with muscle. Even those sad, raised palms. Brazen in their injuries. Such glamour." like hello??? incredible.

grey dog by elliott gish [★★★★]

"You called me a dirty little beast, and I have become as dirty and beastly a woman as there ever was."

"What is that quote from Othello, what Emilia says about men? They are all but stomachs, and we all but food; They eat us hungerly, and when they are full, they belch us."

: ̗̀➛ a 'literary horror novel' set in 1901 about the unmarried and almost 30 'spinster' ada byrd who accepts a teaching post in a small isolated town. she wants to be rid of her past, one 'riddled with grief and shame', but upon witnessing strange and grisly sights, ada begins to believe that something ancient and beastly is behind all the peculiarities in this little town. her confusion deepens, and ada's grip on what is reality, delusion, or traumatic memory, begins to blur and fail.

: ̗̀➛ body horror, gore, the horrors of being a woman, witchy business, descent into madness, women longing for women.

: ̗̀➛ because the entire text is written in first person diary entries, i found that it sometimes failed to establish a creepy atmosphere. although this issue was more prominent for me in the first half, while in the second half the diary entries acted as a great insight as to how unhinged she was becoming. slay.

: ̗̀➛ imo this is simply what happens to a woman when she is raised by a heinous father and ends up an adult surrounded by too many sexy older women!

the sleepwalkers by scarlett thomas [★★★]

"How many eyes can one storm have?"

: ̗̀➛ still reeling from the chaos of their wedding, evelyn and richard arrive on a tiny greek island for their honeymoon. it's the end of the season and a storm is brewing on the horizon. they check into the villa rosa, which has a peculiar owner named isabella, and everyone wants to talk about the famous sleepwalkers, a couple who stayed at the hotel recently and drowned.

: ̗̀➛ saw a tagline that coined this as 'patricia highsmith meets white lotus' and i'd agree. good mystery thriller with some action.

: ̗̀➛ this one was a touch slow at first [it's told in letters, dictated audio recordings, from different perspectives, etc] but ultimately gripped me and i thoroughly enjoyed the drama and mystery. newlyweds that hate each other's guts? yeah, bestie, i need to know why.

: ̗̀➛ i really got into some of the takes showing how evelyn and richard viewed each other. this really stuck with me: "I read infrequently, partly because every book change me, right down the level of my DNA. I didn't want to be changed so often. But you were able to hoover up contemporary culture without so much as a little belch afterwards. You just carried on being you."

: ̗̀➛ also let me fucking tell you, there was a line in this book that made me drop my kindle and GUFFAW in shock. page 88, HELLO. evelyn girl you kill me.

the drift by c. j. tudor [★★★]

"These days death had been laid bare for what it really was. An ending. Often brutal, seldom fair, rarely kind."

: ̗̀➛ a thriller-esque, horror-esque book about a deadly infectious virus, and the attempted survival of three seperate groups trapped in isolated circumstances in the icy wilderness. [this one is so hard to describe sorry]

: ̗̀➛ the book is told through three different pov's. i normally despise this but i actually didn't hate it in this case, although i did have favourites.

: ̗̀➛ boyfriend asked me to read this when he finished it and then watched me from across the room the almost whole time, pretending not to be staring whenever i looked up. and he was right, it was fast-paced, had some good twists and turns, and was enjoyable, albeit very different from what i normally read.

what have i done? an honest memoir about surviving post-natal mental illness by laura dockrill [★★★★]

"Put me out of my misery. I feel like a killer on the loose. I need to turn myself in."

"Or the one of New Mum having champagne and cake with the girls. Another doing 'date night' two weeks before her six-week check, like, 'Yes, we still have sex!' Mum is fitting back into her clothes; Mum is making papier-mâché piggy banks; drinking enough water; shaving her armpits; reading a bedtime story; going to a gig; playing peekaboo. Mum is keeping up with her favourite TV shows; reading the Booker longlist; being a good friend; making a healthy yet tasty cost-effective-probably-vegan meal; recycling; giving baby massage; sterilising. Mum is getting rid of her pregnancy knickers when they are the only knickers she truly likes; doing her taxes; walking the dog; donating to charity; freezing bananas; learning Japanese because why not? ... Oh look! Mum is abseiling down the Shard and still finding the time to express and write a blog about the whole experience."

: ̗̀➛ a memoir about a first-time mum's experience with post-partum psychosis, and her survival.

: ̗̀➛ this book was a heart-ache of a read. honest and raw and devastating and uplifting. often very very funny -- "People told Hugo, 'Don't go down the goal end, mate; it's like watching your favourite pub burn down.' Oh ha. Ha. Ha." -- i couldn't put it down.

: ̗̀➛ the end did start to feel a touch self-helpy which isn't necessarily my bag of tricks when it comes to non-fiction, but those inclusions felt warranted and fair after such an in-depth depiction of everything laura had gone through.

: ̗̀➛ serious mental health trigger warnings for this one. there is plenty of humour, but it gets very dark.

the death of jane lawrence by caitlin starling [★★]

"She dreamed of tearing out a rotted pit inside of him where his martyrdom resided."

: ̗̀➛ in an alternate version of victorian-era britain, jane shoringfield is seeking a marriage of convenience that will allow her to continue working, with all the benefits of being a married woman, and she finds this in dr augustine lawrence. however, he has one condition - she can never visit lindridge hall, his family manor outside of town, where he himself will sleep each and every night. but on their wedding night, an accident strands jane at the door in a rainstorm, and in place of her husband she finds a terrified, paranoid man who cannot tell reality from nightmare. by morning he is himself again, but jane knows something is terribly wrong at lindridge hall.

: ̗̀➛ i picked this up looking for a fun, spooky little read, but am sad to say that i absolutely did not like it. the characters were fickle, the plot twists were unsurprising and revealed poorly, and the storyline was all over the place. sadge!

: ̗̀➛ sold itself as a gothic ghost horror, but didn't live up to that at all [for me!] heavily inspired by crimson peak, and it doesn't care if you know it.

: ̗̀➛ also - when your 'independent strong female' mc marries a guy who lies constantly and makes up bullshit and every time she confronts him he boo-hoos so she forgives him immediately cause he really is a nice man?? womp womp.

: ̗̀➛ also also - way more cocaine in this than i expected.

my book rating system is as follows:

★ = i felt pure contempt the entire time

★★ = yeah it's a book

★★★ = i liked it!

★★★★ = good fucking book, damn

★★★★★ = blew my dick clean off and i'll throw a tantrum if everyone i know doesn't also read it and love it

if you want to share a book you love with me, please do! i am always looking out for new recs.

[blueberryarchive]

(18+, non-con, smut, mentions of death)

Sigh, it seemed like you were a teenager again. All the time with this eternal and lethargic tiredness, the light nose wrinkled in disgust with everything and everyone, the shoulders hunched in search of angst. You had screamed a few minutes ago, to be left alone, that the damn constant questionnaire was driving you crazy. No, you didn't know if you wanted to wear the cotton dress or the suede one, or if the sunglasses were too big, you didn't care. 

You had screamed a few minutes ago, and now only the immense and regurgitating loneliness of your closet accompanied you. It was raining heavily outside, but the closed windows didn't let you hear its sweet fall. Everything was abhorrent: another phrase you would have said when you were fourteen. 

You don't know what your husband saw in you the first time you met, but none of that mattered anymore. His opinion was about to be buried next to his disfigured, hand-stitched, suit-clad body. As if he were a rag doll.

The door opened after two firm knocks. There he was, the only person you could stand at the moment: Jeon Jungkook, your husband's servant. 

"Were you looking for me, My Lady?" His voice, abrupt and strong as a brick, warmed your burning head. Turning thoughts into a nebulous collection. 

You nodded. 

"I can't manage to do the only thing that is asked of me in this house." Your frustrating laugh didn't contort Jungkook's face in grief. That's why you needed him, you were tired of the probing around you and the way they spoke softly as if you were going to break. 

"It's not like it's easy on such a surreal day." 

"I thought he would die in a bed like all the men in his family." Your gaze drifted to the geometric figures on the carpet. Jungkook closed the door behind him, working on looking for a black dress suitable for the situation. "I thought," you continued, "that like the other wives, I would be at his side before he closed his eyes, that his children would be able to see him and remember his last smile." You shook your head, biting your thumb. "You cannot blame yourself for the circumstances, My Lady." Jungkook pointed to the armoire behind you, where there were three options, all daring in some way or another, but it's not like you were someone above those options. 

"Besides, it's not like, with all due respect, you and Mr. Bass were an ordinary couple." 

"Indeed." You were a young woman, he was old and rich. Everyone talked, laughed, cried, joked, and threatened about it in his family.

You pointed your finger at the dress on the left. 

"You'll need a corset for that," Jungkook murmured and turned around to look for the best option for that dress. 

Hands are next to the mirror, your mouth slightly open as you feel your skin and bones tighten beneath the fabric. Behind you, Jungkook used his thin, fine fingers to adjust the corset a little more. He looked from time to time at your reflection in search of a reaction, of pain, but you endured the molding of your bones like a champ. 

"You can tell me if it's too tight, My Lady." You shook your head and raised a hand, signaling for him to finish before you regretted choosing a type of dress that needed that kind of torture. When finished, he created a delicate bow. 

The whole morning had been torture for you: the funeral arrangements, your parents' faces full of melancholy, having to console your husband's children, the sorrowful voices of your maids when they tried to serve you tea or find a way for you to eat. Like you were a girl, it was horrible. That's why Apolonia and Gretchen weren't in your exaggerated closet with you, but rather your deceased husband's servant. Jungkook was a young boy, considering the fact that everyone in that mansion was in their 50s or older, men and women who raised each Bass since they were old enough to properly hold a child. 

Jungkook was young, like you, the two of you were barely six years apart. You had an obvious interest in men older than you, Jungkook was like a child the first night your husband brought him to introduce you three years ago. His eyes were always wide open, lips always a little parted, alert and helpful. He was adorable. 

But the man behind you was physically stronger, his long hair was tied up in a low bun, and his way of speaking was more fluid and assertive. He always said the right thing, it made your nipples hurt, and your heart fluttered between his words. 

"Would you like some kind of stocking for the dress?" 

"No, I think I'll go with high boots." 

"Very well, My Lady." While you were putting on the dress in front of the mirror, Jungkook didn't move from his spot, half of his body reflected next to you, hands behind his back and a little erratic with his gaze. "Everything okay, Jungkook?" The man lowered his face, a shameful laugh. 

"I'm sorry, it's just that from here you can see the place where Mr. Bass died. I can't imagine how much he suffered-" he sealed his lips with red cheeks. "I'm sorry, My Lady. It's insensitive to talk about something so brutal in front of you."

"No, please." You tried to smile. "It's not like the police didn't give me the raw details the next morning, the photos are still tattooed on my retina."

The face was chewed beyond recognition, and parts of the eyebrow and forehead were torn to the bone. Evidence of dental markings on the zygomatic bone and mental foramen.

You read the reports with your breakfast while the police questioned you about your relationship with Mr. Bass, the dogs in the house, and your opinion of his friends, his servants, and coworkers.

"I found it very unusual that you did not go through the garden to our farmer's cottage that day."

"The sun was at its highest point, and I felt like I was fainting every time I got out of bed."

"I understand." It was the only thing he said, he laughed at your response and you frowned, your skin crawling from the new questioning of your person.

"How do you know I go every day?"

"The farmer and I are very good friends, after your visits in the afternoons the smell of vanilla remains on the furniture when I visit the farmer at night for dinner."

"And how do you know I didn't go that afternoon?" You turned around, neck held high, aristocratic arrogance within you searching for what Jungkook truly wanted to say.

"The smell was not even on the pages of the book laid out on Mr. Bell's table. Your favorite book."

Your eyelids fluttered softly, deadly. You smiled.

"Go get my gloves, the long suede ones." You said in the softest tone possible.

Jungkook obeyed, covering each finger in the soft fabric.

"I know what you did to Mr. Bass." The voice was barely a trickle as he finished putting on the gloves, his large hands caressing the suede on your arm as if massaging the information into you.

You didn't know what to say. You swallowed deeply before snatching your arm from his caress, he stood there without stopping looking at you. It made you nauseous.

"It's not my duty to tell you the morality of your choices, but we can say that I agree with your decision, My Lady." He gets close, trying to finish the buttons of the dress with steady hands. "Even though Mister Ron and Master Edward will suffer greatly from the loss of their dear father."

"They will be fine, they will go to therapy." You were quick to answer.

"Of course. Nothing you can't solve. Turn around."

You were the one to obey this time. You stay still, looking at his reflection, waiting for the police to come in when your tongue accidentally slips the fact that you were the one who left the door open of the three beautiful Rottweilers, that you were the one that pointed and gave the distinct whistle for the three dogs to attack your husband.

"But you must know, My Lady." He licked his lips, thinking very well what he was about to say. "I won't fill My Lord's position in any shape or form, that's out of the question." The air was filled with a deep smell of roses, lilies, and all types of flowers that were arranged in every corner of the closet, its pungent smell making you a little dizzy.

"But I hope you know that I'll be here, always." His hand trailed, wandering off to your snatched and whalebone-molded waist. "In one way or another."

"Is this a proposal, Mr. Jeon? If it is, I can assure you this is very inappropriate and vulgar."

He opens his doe eyes, and a gloved and pristine hand reaches his chest. "Oh, My Lady, I'm so sorry. A simple mistake."

Another step, closer. Closer than ever in the last three years. It felt like a big and broad wall was destroyed in front of your eyes. Everything felt a little smaller around you, his face was more detailed and you couldn't smell those damn roses anymore.

"This is not an indecorous offer, but more of a negotiation."

"Is this about money?"

He seemed offended by your question.

"This is about information, my dear."

You tremble, your husband used to call you that when he was in a good mood. Now it felt like a threat in the honeyed voice of your dearest butler. "It's about you having the ability to negotiate and give me a great price for my silence."

He lifted your chin and took the plum lipstick sitting in your cabinet. He opened his mouth slightly, and you mirrored his face. The thick paste settled in your quivering lips as he dragged along the stick. "Now I know it was Mr. Bass' skill being the one who does... did, business. But I know you didn't study the same career as him just so you can sit around with that kind of information. Just to end up being the one who changes the colors and textures of the curtains in the mansion every season, to make tea parties and charities."

"I'm glad with the life I was given." Your voice shakes, and your eyes cannot stop drinking every little piece of heaven that made his face.

"I don't know what shoes to put on." You tried to sound as normal as you could.

"I'll help you with that, My Lady." You took a sit on the leather couch while he opened your wardrobe, dozens of shoes for every occasion and others to create them. "And no, I know you abhor the life you were, not given, but placed upon you like a rock you must climb to the top over and over again." He took a Miu Miu black pair of stilettos, and he smiled while putting the heels on your feet. "Like a feminine, aristocratic Sysiphus"

"How dare you?" Your cheeks burned in embarrassment, and you stood up with a growing pain in your stomach. Now you think about not remembering the last time you properly ate, besides cigarettes and an occasional toast.

"I dare because I know, not only about your boycott but about how you feel about me."

"Oh, please." You laughed so hard you worried the servants outside might hear you. Your trembling hands trying to put on a subtle silver necklace. Taken back when the rough hand made you turn around, the other pressing hard on your cheeks to see him, your fragile body falling to the couch next to you.

"I've seen you looking, I've seen what you read and what you wrote in your journal; read every page of that day. That summer in the chateau by the lake. You couldn't stop thinking about me, finding me in the bathtub jerking off." He laughed erratically. "I read every little note you made about it: the length, the girth, your opinions on my crooked moans. A very thorough essay, I must add."

"If you keep talking I will yell and tell everyone that you tried to rape me." This was absolutely ridiculous. So ridiculous that both of you went completely silent.

You never thought you could say something like that, even less to Jungkook, who respected you more than anyone else in the Bass house. You were a pariah because of your age, because your husband found you on vacation, and when he got home he already signed all the papers to make you his Lady. Almost 28 years apart, but you loved him more than yourself...until you didn't. Until he started treating you like he treated every ex-wife, but he fucked up; and know the coffin must be a closed one because the lovely Nova took a bite at his cheek, leaving the teeth exposed with a wide smile, the eye came out of his socket; the cops never found it.

The stoic expression Jungkook ported broke, shattered into pieces by the force of his sudden laughter; leaving you awestruck by his decadent beauty and the raw force of his devilish smile.

His long legs started getting closer in elongated steps, your nails digging into the fleshy brown of the leather couch when he got so close to your ear that the warm mist coming out of his lips made you tremble.

"I dare you."

The outline of a scream was the only thing you could create before your butler's hand sealed every orifice, you couldn't breathe. You fell to the floor trying to crawl, his knee pressing into your lower back until your entire body was flat on the carpet.

"Sh, sh, sh. Don't make this any harder than it should be."

You heard the ripping of your underwear, the corset stabbing into your lungs, causing the edges of your vision to turn black.

"God, you're wet." He said it as a surprise, expecting you to be a tough catch.

You shook your head, gasping for air, your nails useless with the gloves. His index finger moved so that you could breathe, the air entering and leaving your pits with a cry.

The sting of his cock entering your pussy made you scream, your body felt trapped between Jungkook's weight and yet you tried like a caterpillar to get out of its confines. You denied and denied and more juice came out of your pussy with each crash, it was sinful.

"Open that little hole for me, I'm going to do what your husband couldn't do."

You opened your eyes when you felt the hot liquid run down your thighs and into your dress. You grabbed Jungkook's hand when the brush of the carpet against your clit betrayed you and your pussy started pumping his cum out. A spanking, you moaned, raising your ass in the air looking for more.

"We could have done this like civilized people, but you never understand." He whispered in your ear before turning you around. A soft kiss to your needy lips, the hand-painted on your skin. You closed your eyes, letting your back arch at the strange sensation of being kissed with so much love.

"What I do not understand?" You whispered, brittle.

"Now that you have killed your husband, you have destroyed the only wall that protected you, which means you are just one more object in this mansion full of monsters that all they want is to kill you." His explanation was expressed so lovingly, that the caress on your cheek made two tears fall to your temples. "And I'm going to take advantage of how little you will be now. Like a hole in a wall, just a fucking bother." Another kiss, wet lips molded in heaven, the dark stains from your lipstick leaving evidence.

His smile warmed your chest, it sounded divine. To belong.

ps: gotta be honest with you, chief. this fic is not it for me but i felt like i had to write something, even though words are difficult for me. if you have some constructive criticism, please go ahead. as always thanks for reading, bisou.

[itsagrimm]

He Who Comes From Under The Water

Chapter 1 - The Promised Bride

Monster!König X she/her afab Reader

CN sexism & patriarchy, mentions of death, suicidal thoughts, accidental attempted drowning, arranged marriage, choking on water, mention of a human bodies decomposition

eventual smut.

Beta-read by @sandinthemachine and @queenquazar. Thank you both so much for supporting me with obsessing over fairy tales.

Masterlist

“So, you are a king without a queen?” The old man asked while throwing his rod back into the water. “I suppose you require a queen then, eh?”

The king, considering the old fisherman’s words, slowly nodded. “I suppose I do. But where does one get such a fine lady?” 

The water below the wooden landing was dark and dirty. Frogs croaked and fireflies danced over the green sludge and water lilies, lively and playful like the flecks of sunlight that reached the surface through the thick forest trees. A pretty scene on any other day.

Not this one.

Your tears had long stopped flowing into the water of the deep pond. Now, you sat there, your hand tangled in the water and your thoughts lost, dark and deep like the water below you.

A few days ago, your grandfather died. A kind old man who had spent the last years of his life close to the warm oven in winter and fishing in the pond in the summertime.

You remembered bedtime stories as a child with sweets sneaked into your hands. You remembered kind eyes who watched out for you as you grew from child to maiden. You remembered worry in those same eyes when your father died in the forest chopping wood, when your brothers perished in a tavern fire, your uncle and your mother succumbing to sickness, and - finally - your cousin breaking his neck after climbing a tree.

Yes, there was a lot of pain in your grandfathers’ eyes. But even more to worry.

The old man had been your last living relative, and most importantly your last male relative.

And now you as an unmarried village girl from a clearly cursed family, had no one who could inherit your family’s house and support you.

It was only time until the village would shun you and chase you away to get rid of all the bad around you.

That is if you were lucky.

You could try to make it into the city where you would live for a while as a beggar or, if you were hungry and deemed pretty enough, work as a whore.

In his last days, your grandfather tried to arrange for a husband, but no one wanted a cursed girl, and so his last words to you were to visit his favorite fishing spot.

You sighed.

Now, you sat on the same spot where your grandfather had sat, catching fish, and gazing over the water.

Maybe that’s what he had meant, you mused. It would be easier to end it all here and jump into the pond only to never return to the surface, drowning your sorrows and yourself with your grandfathers’ blessings. At least you would choose your fate with your chin proudly raised and your dignity untouched, floating into the abyss in your best billowing skirts from the funeral and no more tears left to cry.

As much as that was possible considering your situation.

“It’s a good place to leave this world,” you spoke out loud to taste how it felt on your tongue. It resonated, with the forest, the pond, with you.

“Indeed, it is.”

You twitched in surprise, heart jumping into your throat.

“Who is this?” you called over the water, glancing around for whoever lurked within the trees, hiding between the ferns.

A hand, big and wet, snatched yours from the water and pulled you in with one strong tug.

You wailed in surprise before crashing into the pond and swallowing the muddy green water, gurgling and gasping for air. Something seized you – strong and solid. Instinctually you kicked and punched it.

Was this it?

NO! 

Fighting for your life you thrashed around, struggling and trying to free yourself to get back up to the surface. But whoever had you in a hold only dragged you down, carrying you further into the dark.

Your panicked eyes widened, trying to see who attacked you, trying to see anything.

It was dark. Only the dark, green water around you.

No, no, no, no!

Your lungs heaved for air as your heart drummed painfully in your hurting chest.

A second hand twisted around your throat and over your face. Instinctually, you opened your mouth and bit down.

The hands jolted back with a howl reverberating in the water, releasing you from the deadly weight dragging you down. Hungry for air and with burning lungs you swam up with frenzied strokes, pushing through the surface. Gasping and coughing you breathed, feeding your body with much needed air.

Quickly, you glanced around. No one there. Was this someone from the village trying to get rid of you? Did you manage to drag your attacker down with you? Or was it an animal in the water?

Before you could move, something grabbed you again and lifted you a good length out above the water.

You screamed and kicked again only to have your legs and hands fixated in an iron grip.

“Hold still!” A voice commanded you, foreign and vibrating close. You struggled on, thrashing your body against the solid form behind your back, unwilling to take any chances and die here without a fight.

“I said, hold still!”  the grip around your limbs tightened, forcing you into stillness. “There, finally.”

Slowly, you turned your head. You were caught in the grip of a dark, green form, pressed against what must be its chest and stared at by sharp, watery eyes from a nearly obscured face from tangled wet hair and a beard.

Who is this? You thought to yourself, still heaving for air.

“Why are you fighting me?” the strange being said, “I’m here to take you in as my bride. Just like I have promised.”

You coughed again, a bit of swamp water and spit running down your chin, splashing onto the being’s arm.

“What?” you cried and with your head still spinning.

“What what?” The large figure snapped back, “The old man asked me to take you as my wife, yet you bite me? Is that how you want to treat your future husband? Do you want me to let you go? I have no need for an unwilling bride.”

 You blinked, your body slowing down and your mind starting to think clearly again.

“You nearly drowned me. Let me go!” you cried out as much as your abused lungs allowed.

The figure blinked and instantly dropped you.

With a loud splash you crashed back into the water.

Your body seized and your mind raced, struggling to comprehend and move your body up.

You made a few weak swimming strokes, but it wasn’t enough to move your still tired and abused body up. Water started filling your lungs again and you were about to dr-

Something grabbed you and lifted you. Again.

“Woman!” the strange being cried out in annoyance, “What are you doing?”

You coughed, swamp water from your hair dripping over your face, disorienting you further as you gasped for air.

“Wait, maiden, do you need to breathe?” the strange creature asked, “Make up your mind! I was just trying to take you home, but you don’t want that. So I did like you asked but then you started sinking like a stone back into my waters again, heaving for air!”

You shivered, “Of course I need to breathe! All humans need air, idiot! What kind of question is that?!”

The creature groaned and grumbled, “The old man forgot to mention you are a human. I thought you might be a nymph or a bigger frog lady. Well, that’s just bad luck.”

You snorted, “Oh, I am sorry that me needing air is inconvenient for you! I nearly died down there in those muddy waters!”

“Hey, those are mighty fine waters of mine, thank you very much. Besides, the second time was not my fault.”

“Your waters?” you managed.

“Who else’s waters?” the figure deadpanned as you’d asked the most obvious question, swayed, and started moving towards the landing before carefully putting you onto the planks instead of holding you like a cat holds its naughty young, “Stay. Let me take a better look at you.”

You huffed and collapsed onto the planks out of the wet arms. It wasn’t like you could run anyway with your body still shaky and weak from the near drownings. Instead, you lifted your head for a better look at the stranger as they studied you.

The strange being from the waters was built like a man, but huge and larger than the tallest man you had ever seen. And it had the face close to a man too under all that unkempt hair and beard. But its facial features were fine, much too fine for any man who could lurk in the waters, and slightly too angular and with eyes a bit too lively and sharp to belong to a human as they studied you.

“Pretty girl.” the man from the water finally grumbled, “A bit unruly but pretty. At least that the old man did not lie about it.”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise, “Thank you?”

The man shrugged, “Sorry for trying to drown you, apparently, I misunderstood your fragile physique.”

Fragile physique. He made it sound like an insult.

You took one final breath and summoned your strength to sit up to be on the same eye level as the large man from the water.

“Who are you?” you asked while trying to sort your wet skirts.

He snorted and waved slightly.

“I am König – king of all under the waters. Naturally. And you are the bride I was promised by the old fisherman a couple of days ago.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, “Do you mean my grandfather? He used to fish here.”

The man shrugged, causing little waves around his shoulders where he emerged from the pond, “Most humans all look and smell the same to me, honestly. He was old for a human, liked to share stories, and left me a bit of tobacco as offerings sometimes. Smelled of smoked fish.”

Memories of your grandfather flashed before your eyes where he sat on the bench in front of the house, smoking his pipe in the late hours of the day, watching the sun go down.

Your mouth went dry.

Had he? Did he really?

Did he, in all his misery and worry, promised your hand to a strange man from the pond – a huge and wet and cold and clearly dangerous monster.

You went stiff from the overwhelming thought of being given away like that to a stranger - to a monster.

“Well, you are a human but I’m not in the habit of breaking promises and I'm sure you would make a good enough queen,” König continued, “Unless you object of course. There is little as unhonourable as having an unwilling bride, not even the slimiest toad approves of that.”

König babbled on about waters and ponds and marriage but your head was spinning. Your grandfather arranged for you to marry an algae cover man from the pond who's idea of home nearly killed you. The painful absurdity of it made you consider jumping right back into the water.

The cold, dark and green water.

The buzzing of the summer insects and splashing of the little waves drowned everything else out, turning louder and louder and louder and-

“Maid?”

His hand touched your arm, slowly shaking you.

You jolted up only to fall back.

“Yes?” you managed while leaning back, away from the large, clawed hand.

König’s watery eyes shifted around you as if searching for the right words.

“Listen, I don’t know too much about you humans, “ König started, “but you look cold and miserable. Maybe let’s worry about that first and talk about our wedding later.”

You blinked as the realization in all its form settled in.

Marrying him?

He would drown you in this pond, your flesh rotting and being picked by the fishes until nothing but a pile of bones were left.

Your bones, your lovely bones.

No! You had felt your life slip out of your fingers, the precious air bubbles escaping your lungs bare moments ago. Your cold hands wandered around your pained body intuitively, cradling yourself and trying to protect you from the outside world. You weren’t ready to give up on this life - to give on your body - and you would keep yourself safe and alive. This was your skin, your hair and flesh and bones! Death would come to you one day but you would be damned if it came today at the bottom of a dark pond and by the hands of a man.

“Yes, you are right. I should get dry,” you managed, sensing a chance to escape.

With wobbly legs, you tried to get up only to sway and stumble down on your knees. You needed to leave this place.

König tilted his head, watching you.

You tried again; your muscles too weak to carry you.

“Dear,” König said with slight amusement in his voice, “Your will is admirable, pretty girl. But I doubt it will be enough to get you home.”

“So? Will you drag me back into the pond and finish your work?” you replied, considering the option to crawl home and far away from the water

“Why would I do that, bride?”, he chuckled before turning serious again, looking at you with those blue more than clear inhuman eyes, “I have heard it’s not customary but allow me to get you to your home before you hurt yourself. You humans take so long to heal and an injured bride during the wedding would be a nuisance.”

Fearful you tried to move again.

He watched, waiting for your answer.

You considered his words. Your home. And he clearly wanted you in one piece at least before the wedding.

“No pond?”, you asked with an oh so thin weak voice.

“No pond.” He reassured, “That’s clearly not your element, my little bride-to-be.”

Slowly, you nodded.

Carefully, as if not to spook you, he scooped you back into his arms once again and pressed you to his chest.

You felt yourself going stiff again from fear, but before you could cry out, König stepped out of the water and away from the dreaded pond.

“See, no pond,” König spoke soothingly, and you felt his voice vibrate in his chest as he moved and swayed to avoid branches while shielding you with his shoulders, “I’m keeping my promises, my little bride.”

[icarusignite]

An Eye for an Eye Ch.3

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x OC

"Sorry about the blood in your mouth, I wish it was mine."

Summary: Daenys receives a letter from her mother, a relic of brighter times that evokes memories of a familial love that once enveloped her, now tainted by betrayal and sorrow. As she reads, Aemond observes, realizing with a pang of despair that the ties that bind his wife to her family are unlike anything he has ever known. The realization that he can never reclaim such warmth after the deeds he has committed leaves him hollow, bereft of hope, and haunted by the chasm that separates him from the love he so desperately craves.

Word Count: 3.6k

My dearest darling girl,

I hope you are faring well. We all miss your presence here, Lucerys and the boys in particular. They all have things to tell you and sometimes the distance feels like too much, although I realize it has only been a few days. 

I hope that your husband is treating you well, but I would expect nothing less from my brother. From what I have seen for myself, he cares for you deeply, so perhaps you shall be content in your marriage. Such is the hope of every mother for their child, is it not? I will admit, however, that your mother is a selfish creature, who wishes you could have remained with her forever. 

You were my child first, before you were anyone else's. Was it so wrong to hope that you could have remained mine longer? 

Oh, look at me, blathering on so. The babe must be making me sentimental. Only a moon left and yet I already cannot wait to see her. Yes, her. I have not told anyone just yet, but it is a girl this time, I am certain. I will name her Visenya. You shall have a sister, and I will have four darling girls. Perhaps the gods are sending her to me as a consolation for not having you anymore. 

Give my greetings to your grandsire. I fear he is not long for this world and I wish to be with him during his final hours. Perhaps you might lend him strength until I arrive. I find myself not up to riding these days, but as soon as this sickness passes, I will make my journey to King's landing at once. 

The boys are doing well. Jacaerys is shouldering his responsibilities as heir well enough, and the younger ones are growing up to be fine boys indeed. Aegon and Viserys miss your nightly tales, but Joffrey has already laid claim to your chambers. He says you have a better view of Dragonmont and the bay. Worry not, I am certain we will be able to evict him should you like to visit us. 

I worry for Lucerys though. He is a quiet boy, not as sure of himself as the rest. He is afraid to inherit Driftmark, to bear the responsibility I have placed upon him. Perhaps it is indeed too much for his gentle soul, the gods know that such positions are quite a burden. In another life, I think he would have enjoyed learning at the citadel. 

Our Lucerys as a maester, can you imagine? I think he would have been suited for it. He was always so taken with Maester Gerardys and his work. 

I had an interesting conversation with him this morning. The sweet boy thinks he cannot be as great a ruler as Lord Corlys. What's more, he thinks that I am perfect. How comical, when these days I feel anything but. 

Perhaps you might ease his mind about his worries when you write to him. Tell him that he is capable of the responsibilities I have placed upon him. Tell him that his mother will prepare him as best she can and that his family will always be there to support him. I have told him as much, but he has always listened to you better in most things. I think he took your departure the hardest, so write to him as often as you can, my love. I have seen how your letters light up his entire countenance. 

He said he had something of great importance to tell you, but he won't say what it is, so I shall leave it for you to discover. He is adamant about visiting you on your name day, so he will probably tell you then, if his raven doesn't find you first. 

I do not wish to force your hand but you are so dearly missed here. Perhaps you and Aemond might like to spend a few moons with us here in Dragonstone. It will be an opportunity for your husband to see your childhood home. 

I have rambled on long enough now, but do let me know and I shall make the arrangements. 

With all my love,

Your mother.

Aemond crumpled the letter in his hands, frowning as he did so. Irritation picked at his nerves. It was quite hypocritical of his half-sister to refer to him so fondly when she had never made any efforts to endear herself to him over the years. It was obvious that his mother had already gone over the contents of Rhaenyra's letter, the broken seal a testament to it, so he could not imagine why she asked him to deliver it to Daenys. It would only further alienate her from their cause if she was reminded of her loyalties to her mother. 

Still, he supposed it made sense. He had always known his mother to be a kind-hearted person, even if she wasn't able to put her compassion into words. For all he knew, this was her attempt at mollifying his grieving wife, by giving her a piece of home. It must have been penned quite a while ago, before the death of King Viserys, before the death of Lucerys. 

He felt the resentment begin to climb up his throat along with the bitter bile of regret. Reading that letter had been too much of an intimate look at Daenys's relationships with her family. He knew his half-sister's family functioned differently from his own, but he couldn't help but feel deprived, as if something had been taken from him, something he never even had to begin with.

A father. A family that was not so disjointed. 

"I am just going to leave this here then," he placed the crumpled scrap of parchment beside Daenys and turned to leave.

"I will never know what he had to say to me," she hissed, interrupting his departure. "I will never...I never got to write to him. I never got to tell him that he would have made a brave Lord of the Tides. I will never get to tell him how much I- I will never get to tell him anything and it is all your fault."

"You must know how sorry I am, truly." 

She sat up straighter then, scrubbing her face with her sleeve, leaving it reddened and blotched. A little of her fire had returned to her eyes, and Aemond wasn't quite whether to rejoice that for a moment his Daenys had returned, or lament that she had only done so out of loathing for him. 

"Your apologies mean nothing to me so cease them at once! You cannot bring him back, can you? No, you cannot, so I do not want any more empty words. He died scared and alone and I just know that his last thoughts would have been of mother. Of how he had failed her, of how he'd failed Lord Corlys. And I will never get to tell him that he could never fail us, not ever."

The one-eyed prince turned to leave again, no longer being able to stomach the derision she threw his way. Maybe that made him a coward but he did not care. He could not bear to see the sharp hatred in her eyes anymore, not when she had only ever looked at him with warmth before.

Daenys's hand shot out and grabbed his arm before he could depart, her nails digging into his arm.

"Wait..."

It took her a while to gather her words. She pawed at her face again and swallowed her hiccups as she took deep shuddering breaths to collect herself, equal parts sorrow and rage. 

"I need to know. I need to know what you said to him last. What his last words were. Is there...is there anything of him left?" she choked on the last word.

Aemond hung his head, refusing to meet her searching eyes. What was there to say? Whatever last words his nephew may have said meant nothing now, swallowed up by the wind and the waves. Why the bastard boy was flying in the direction of King's Landing instead of returning home to Dragonstone, Aemond did not understand back then, and now he certainly would never know. 

Lucerys Velaryon's last actions would remain forever a mystery. 

"Tell me what happened," Daenys repeated. 

"Aegon told you most of the story. There is not much more to it I'm afraid."

"Tell me anyway. I want to hear it from you. Every single detail."

"It will only hurt you. I do not wish to cause you more pain."

She smiled bitterly, her fingers digging harder into his arm. Her nails would leave marks, perhaps even draw blood, but he could not make himself pull away. He relished in the pain because at least this way she was touching him. She was speaking to him. 

"You have hurt me enough already. What's a little more? This time I am asking for it. You owe me this much."

"I cannot speak of it again."

"Do not act as if you are the victim! As if you are the one in pain! Not when this is all your fault!" she was seething now, as if she was mere moments away from flinging something at his head. 

"I do not wish to speak of it because of what it'll do to you."

"How much worse could it be? I just...I just want to hear it from you, instead of your idiot brother."

Aemond met her gaze and sighed in defeat as he began to recount the tale again, and every time he'd try to gloss over certain parts, her grip would tighten and she'd ask him to reiterate. 

"What. Did. You. Say. To. Him," she asked for the umpteenth time, speaking as if each word pained her, her hold on his arm becoming almost deadly.

He was nearing the end of his tale, and he wanted to stop speaking. He wanted to stop but he had the mouth of a waterfall and his wife's attention was far too compelling. 

"I tossed him my knife. Told him I would not blind him but that he would have to give up one of his eyes."

"And what did my brother say to that?"

"He said he would not fight me because he was there as a messenger only..." Aemond paused.

"Continue!"

"No."

"Aemond..."

She said his name. It had been so long, but she had still said his name, except now it sounded different, the syllables harsh and unforgiving. 

"Do not make me say it, please."

"You are in no position to plead with me," Daenys sneered. 

"I cannot do it."

"You owe it to me."

"I told him I would...that I would take his eye out myself," Aemond took a deep steadying breath, his gaze dropping to the floor, "and I called him a...a..."

"A bastard," his wife finished softly, her breathing almost ragged. "You called him a fucking bastard, didn't you? It is your favourite insult to leverage."

"I am sorry."

"You know that means nothing to me. Do go on. What happened next?"

"I...your brother...he departed on his dragon, and then... well, you know the rest."

He considered telling her the rest of it, about how Maris Baratheon's words needled into his skin and burrowed into the recesses of his mind, filling him with fury and resentment. It felt too much like an excuse though, and he knew exactly what she'd say in response. She'd call him a coward again, trying to blame his misdeeds on someone else. She'd scorn him for dragging the Baratheon girl into a fight that wasn't hers to begin with. 

No, he wouldn't mention Maris at all. It would be utterly pointless. 

The one-eyed prince watched helplessly as his wife dropped his arm as if she'd been scalded, as if the mere touch of him burned her. 

"Why?"

It was only one word, but he found himself unable to answer. What could he say anyway? What could he possibly say that would mollify her, that would ease her pain, and make her more forgiving? He could bring up his eye again, but the truth of it was that it was never truly about his eye. 

Aemond Targaryen hated Lucerys for the privilege he held, for getting away with maiming him, for being absolved of his crime while his own wounds were left to fester. His hatred had spread through him like a sickness, like rot, bone-deep in its misery. The gods were cruel, and everything his nephews were freely handed, he had to scavenge for. Everything they received in abundance, he had to make himself content with crumbs of. 

For him, King Viserys's trueborn son, to be set aside in favour of a mere bastard was inexcusable and it was this that he could not let go. It was this unpunished crime that led him to take justice into his own hands, and follow his nephew out into the storm. 

It was always going to happen. Lucerys Velaryon had been dead from the moment he stepped into Lord Borros's castle, from the moment he set eyes on Aemond. The Stranger had already staked its claim on him, just as his one-eyed uncle had, and no amount of remorse would change the fact. 

An eye for an eye made the world go blind. 

Aemond Targaryen would soon come to learn the true meaning of that, and it would be his wife, who would make him see it. 

Right now though, she was chewing on her lips again, mulling over his words in contemplation, formulating her response. Her fury distracted her from her grief, but it was not a welcome respite. 

"You called my brother a bastard...after swearing to me that you would never do so again. Does your word truly mean so little?" she finally spoke, her voice sombre. "And how hypocritical of you. If he is considered a bastard, then so am I, or have you forgotten, lord husband? Have you forgotten that you married a bastard, something you consider to be less than a person? Or have you perhaps always scorned me for my supposed inferior birth?"

Lord husband. 

Her words dripped with venom, and he marvelled at how she could make what once were his favourite words sound like poison.

"You are not inferior."

He meant what he said, although perhaps not in the way he intended to. It was easy for him to forget that she was a bastard too, with her fair hair and violet eyes — dragonless child that she had been—he had more in common with her than with anyone else, and so he could pretend that she was just like him. He could pretend she was everything like him and nothing like them. 

It made her easier to love. 

She was him and he was her. 

It made her easier to stomach without the rot of resentment clouding the air they shared. 

"You are not inferior," Aemond repeated. "You are not less of a person."

"But I am still a bastad?"

"I didn't say that."

"But you did not deny it," a crazed laugh bubbled out of Daenys's throat — a prelude to a sob. "You killed my brother for the crime of existing. You might as well do the same to me."

"That was not the reason."

"Wasn't it?"

Aemond sighed, stepping away to run his hand through his hair in exasperation, "It was an accident, I swear it. There was a storm and the visibility was low. Then your brother's dragon came at Vhagar breathing fire. If Lucerys had just listened, if he had just...,"

"If he had what? Given you his fucking eye? Do not pin this on him or Arrax, you pathetic fool. They are dead and you are alive to sit here in front of me and present your pitiful excuses. You are the one who thought it was a good idea to chase them with a beast of war. A war-hardened dragon! They didn't stand a chance!" Daenys's voice rose an octave.

"Vhagar lost control," Aemond's voice dropped even lower. 

"No, you lost control! And my poor brother paid for it! Tell me, is there even a body? Does my grieving mother get to see her dead son one last time before she burns him? Do I?"

She squeezed her eyes shut before he even answered, stealing herself against his response, almost as if she knew.

Aemond was quiet for a moment.

"There isn't," Daenys answered her own question. "Whatever was left of him is in the sea now? Shipbreaker Bay, Aegon said."

Silence stretched between them, the only sound the distant clatter of the castle servants going about their day. How strange it was that everyone was able to go on as if nothing had happened, and yet here she was, with her entire world come to a standstill. She remained motionless, her fingers reaching to clutch the fabric of her gown. Better to twist the threads around her fingers, than her fingers around her husband's throat. 

Aemond's apology hung on the precipice of his lips, waiting to be spoken, but he found himself unable to utter the words.

She shook her head at him, as if anticipating it, the movement almost imperceptible, and a single tear trailed down her cheek. The one-eyed prince resisted the urge to wipe it away, resisted the urge to touch her as she pressed her lips together, a delicate tremor betraying the strength she summoned to hold back her emotions.

Then the room shrank around them as her grief erupted, her anguished wail shattering the stillness, her breath catching in her throat as she confronted him with a gaze ablaze with accusation. 

"Oh, why couldn't you have left him alone? Why couldn't you have let your stupid grudges go? I would have given you both my eyes had you asked, I promise. I would have given them to you with a kiss and my blessing if you had just asked. I would have blinded myself for it, if you only...How could you be so cruel!"

The weight of her words pierced through him. 

An indictment and a prophecy. 

"Why would I take yours? He was the one who took my eye, not you! Left me with this hideous disfigurement for the rest of my life, without even having to answer for it! Everyone in King's Landing looked at me with either pity or disgust. None of the ladies at court would have married me!" Aemond roared.

Oh. 

He had said the wrong thing and he regretted it even before his wife's lips curled in disgust.

"No one would have married you?" Daenys scoffed. "I would have married you. I did marry you!"

"I did not want your pity. I feared that even you would be repulsed by me. That one day you would see past whatever sympathetic affection you held for me and be sickened and ashamed of the scarred creature you claimed to love."

He did not know why he said the words, the most shameful thoughts spilling out of him, unabridged. Perhaps Maris Baratheon's observations had hit him harder than he expected, and now it was all he could think about. 

Then Daenys opened her mouth and proved all his fears to be true. 

"You were right," she nodded, almost to herself. "I do find you hideous... unsightly even. I do see now, past whatever affection I held for you, and I am sickened and ashamed that you are my husband."

"Daenys..." Aemond's voice trembled. His world was shifting, tilting on its axis. He felt like he had been slapped. In fact, he wished she had slapped him, it would have hurt less.

"You. Repulse. Me."

"Stop."

"Leave. I have nothing more to say to you and I wish to be left alone."

And when the door swung shut behind him, but the click of the lock never came, Daenys felt the walls closing in on her, suffocating her once again. 

In a sudden surge of frustration, her hands lifted a crystal trinket from Aemond's desk. It was a fragile, ornate thing, one of the many she had gifted him, a momento of happier times. Before she had marvelled at them, basking in the joy that he kept them all neatly arranged where he could see them every day as he worked, but now they only brought her rage. 

With a primal scream, she hurled the trinket at the door, where it exploded upon impact. Then, one by one, she hurled them all at the door, each one accompanied by a cacophony of shattering glass. 

She fell to her knees amidst the wreckage, her breaths ragged, the echoes of her screams still reverberating through the room. Tears streamed down her face as she clutched at her chest, the intensity of her emotions leaving her gasping for air. She resisted the urge to swallow the jagged shards, stuffing them each into her mouth, one by one until her tongue was heavy with the taste of blood and not her husband's name. She'd force them down too, swallowing until that gaping hole in her stomach was filled too, filled with glass that felt less fragile than the memory of her dead brother. 

It was her cursed mouth that brought this on, so it was only fair, that it paid the price. 

When she lifted the largest of the pieces, only seeing the stream of scarlet when she knew she ought to have felt the bite, she knew old habits died hard, and she had never been one to cope well. 

A/N: likes/reblogs/comments are highly appreciated, would love to hear your thoughts <3 Comment to be added to the taglist

[yinlikesbooksandtea]

青のすみか

Where Our Blue Is

“Satoru?”

You never thought you'd see him again after you graduated Tokyo Jujutsu High. Being a sorcerer wasn't for everyone and that was clear. Seeing your own best friend fall apart and drown in their depression spiraling from their past. It's hard not to leave with your own mental demise. Dead. Dead. Dead. People fall one by one, and you knew you'd be soon if you didn't leave.

3:38am

Oddly specific. I can't sleep. We all can't. The burdens of society and capitalism hanging over our shoulders. Being a teacher wasn't the easiest either. You may have left jujutsu society but being a kind person never really left your heart. A beer in one hand and a cigarette in another. You promised yourself, you'd never smoke yet here you were. A certain brown haired girl would have chuckled at you now. Sitting at your balcony smoking like your old friend would. A knock at your door surprised you. Instinctively your head turnt to the noise, your body freezing for a moment. Feet moving against the wooden tiles of the cheaply rented apartment. A shiver going down your spine at the thought of someone knocking at your door at midnight. Though a familiar mop of white hair catches your attention through the peephole. Blue eyes you'd never forget in a millennia looking right back at you. Like he knew you were there. The sound of the door knob twisted, before you knew it your hand had opened the door to greet your friend. An acquaintance you'd count now with so many years that past. Everything changed.

Yet it still felt the same.

The familiar white hair, vibrant blue eyes that sparkled like the sky, the intimidating aura that came with someone as tall and big as him. It was all the same but so different. The white bandages that used to be wrapped around his eyes no where to be seen. How can someone grow even taller after highschool? You wanted to ask by decided against it.

“Satoru?”

His name glides off your tongue the same as it used to. As easy as ever as if a decade hasn't past. You're no longer 18, but you're 28 now. Wrinkles and smile lines are a little more visible on each other's faces. But there's a certain beauty to it. You were alive and had the privilege to age. If only your dear old friends had the same. Maybe things would have been different. Satoru didn't look a day over 20. Still the same, handsome as ever a masculine aura that complimented him had grew as well. A bittersweet smile emerges on his face as he stands there. A hand tucked in his pockets as he bends downwards slightly so you can see him better in the dim light.

"Hey. It's been a while."

It's been a while indeed.

And suddenly you can't help but smile back at him either. Your head tilting to the side as you did so like the teenager you once were.

"I brought some sweets."

That handsome voice said. Of course you did. He loved sweets and something's never change do they? Even in the sadness of being an adult, a flower blooms in the harshest weather. A sweet smile finally blooming on that face that was ridden with sorrow. Your feet carrying your body, as you stepped aside to let him in. It seemed that spring has come once more. Your spring.

"Come in, Satoru. I'll make us tea."

"At 3am? We aren't gonna be able to sleep later."

"It's not like we plan to do we?"

I guess somethings never change.

We did meet again.

Like grains of stars in an infinitely expanding galaxy. Spilling through the gaps between my fingers.

-------------------------------------------

Hello it's been a while since I wrote something! I wrote this at 4 am so if there's some mistakes I'll check in the morning but honestly it's been a while since I felt like writing something. I got a little sad and wrote something a bit melancholic ish I guess. Highly highly recommend reading the lyrics of Where our blue is before you read this fic! Sorry it's a bit short and request are always open.

Anyways hope you guys like it :)

[strongheartneteyam]

I wish I could

Chapter 2

Pairing: Neteyam Sully x female!curvy!human reader

Neteyam is aged up.

CW: lots of fluff, childhood friends to lovers, reader loves na'vi children so much and dreams about being a mom one day, angst, the whole Sully family loves reader (including Neteyam but she doesn't know that yet lol)

Author's note: as this is an Avatar AU, reader doesn't need a mask to breathe Pandora's air and not die. Maybe because she was born there, never left and was adopted by a na'vi woman since she was a really small child, she was gradually exposed to Pandora's environment and some kind of mutation happened, so she can breathe, because her body adapted to survive in the planet without the need of a technological device. Idk if it makes sense at all honestly, but, what the hell, fanfics are supposed to be fun and not make 100% of sense, so... just try to not think too much about it n enjoy ahaha

♡

Chapter 1

♡

"Oh my God, such a cute little thing you are" You said while squeezing Tuk in your arms. Even though she was bigger than you because she was a na'vi child after all, you held her like a human toddler. You loved her so much, as if she was your own child. And she loved you too. She was giggling so happily while you squeezed her tight. She was so fond of you that Neytiri would always leave you to take care of her when she left for a hunt. She trusted you, thought you were a really good kid. And you were known in the tribe for helping na'vi mothers with their children. From babies to pre-teens.

You thought Neytiri to be such a beautiful and wise na'vi woman. You desired to be like her one day. You also wanted to have a big beautiful family like hers but that thought would always soon turn from a happy one to one that filled you with angst and sorrow. You were just a human after all, left to the care of a sweet na'vi lady after your parents died in a battle against the Sky People when they came back to Pandora once again. Those horrible days are over now, thank Eywa. Your biology was so different from the na'vi that you didn't even know if it was possible for you to get pregnant from mating with a na'vi male. There are couples of a na'vi and a human out there but none of them ever tried to conceive a hybrid child. The closer someone got to it was the Sully kids who have na'vi and human blood running in their veins but their father had an Avatar body, not a human one, so, it's technically not the same. Why couldn't you just marry a human guy and have a human child?, you may ask. Well, you never knew how to say it without sounding weird but you never felt attracted to the males of your own species. They just looked so plain and boring next to the na'vi men, so passionate, family-oriented and fearless. And also, you couldn't deny that the way they towered over you and their blue skin that shone in the dark because of their freckles played a big part in your feelings too. Yeah, that will never not sound pervy.

You wished you could just mate with the na'vi you fell in love with, but you didn't even know if Neteyam would ever look at you that way. Your small, soft frame might look weird to him. Specially since you were really curvy and a bit fat even for human standards. But still, you dreamt about his big hands touching your skin and his blue beautiful lips kissing yours, so tenderly. Sometimes you woke up and cried, realizing it was indeed just a dream and you were alone laying in your mat.

The na'vi woman you learned to call "mom", Ao'ite, took you as if you had been born from her womb, she always showed you love and took great care of you. And even though she was a great mother to you and you loved her so very much, you never felt like it was enough. It pained you to say it because it sounded ungrateful and even cruel, but you always wondered what it would be like if your parents hadn't die. You didn't remember them, since you were only 2 years old when the murders happened, but you always thought that if they had raised you, maybe you would feel like you belonged somewhere. You loved Pandora and would always call it your one and only home, felt so connected to the trees, animals and oceans, but you would never be a na'vi girl. You could never tame and have your own Ikran or go through any important and beautiful thing only the na'vi can do. That crushed your heart.

You were so lost in your thoughts and immersed on Tuk's little laughs, in a mix of sweetness and sadness, that you didn't even notice how Neytiri's and Jake's older son was looking at you. Neteyam had a spark in his amber eyes when he looked at you holding his little sister. He thought you looked so beautiful and motherly when you played with her. He thought you'd be a great mother one day. He knew how much you wanted to have a family and he only wishes he could be your mate and give you little na'vi children. The smile that was adorning his lips died a bit and he looked away. He didn't know if you found him a suitable mate or if you were just disgusted by how different and odd he looked compared to humans. It hurt him to think maybe you could never reciprocate his feelings. He has loved you since you guys were little kids and he saw your - then weird to him - appearance. He was puzzled in the beginning but with only an hour playing together with you, running through the forest, just close enough so his grandma wouldn't lose sight of the two of you, he found his little heart beating fast inside his chest. And it wasn't just because he had been running, he realized. It was because he knew that you were the one he was gonna chose to be his mate, to spend the rest of his life with, no matter how different from him you looked. What confused him in the beginning was now the most beautiful sight to behold. And it never changed. 15 years later, when you're now both 20 and not 5 anymore, he still looked at you like you were the Pandora skies at night. So beautiful and enchanting to look at. He could look at you for hours, and sometimes he almost did, while you were sitting somewhere in the middle of the people, when they reunited to have meals together at night. You were close enough for him to be able to look at you but far enough for him to not be noticed and perceived as a creep to you.

One day Jake sat next to his elder son and realized who he was looking at. He told his son you were a great girl and he should try courting you if he liked you. Neteyam was shy in the beginning and even denied he was looking at you but his dad knew him far too well so, seconds after that, Neteyam sighed and told his father that he truly loved you and wanted you to be his mate. Jake smiled. That reminded him of what he felt when he was being taught the na'vi ways by Neytiri and fell in love with her. He was immeasurably happy when he realized she loved him too. He just wants his son to be happy and he was glad he had chosen you. Jake always felt something good coming from you. You were like him when he was still stuck in his human body: you loved the na'vi ways more than the human ways and wanted to be one of them. He just wishes it wasn't so dangerous for you to be transfered to an Avatar body. You had once told him you would try, just so you could feel like you were one of the people. But in Jake's heart you were and would always be one of them, even if you were a tiny human girl. And he knew most na'vi felt the same about you. You were really loved by the people.

Neteyam looked at you again, as you were holding his little sister's hands and she was asking you to let her braid your hair. You smiled and said yes and she smiled even wider and started touching your hair. You had beautiful, soft hair and it would always end up a bit entangled when Tuk would braid it. She was a child and was still learning so her braiding skills were still not on point. But you didn't care. You always let her braid your hair and would sit patiently while she did. And you would wear the braids she would make for days, even if they looked a bit funny. It was so special to you how that precious na'vi child showed so much love towards you. Such an innocent little soul. You wished so hard that one day you could have your own na'vi child braiding your hair. Na'vi babies were the cutest thing you had ever seen. Even though you would look enormous carrying a na'vi baby in your belly (if that could ever happen, in your wildest dreams) and you probably would feel so heavy and bloated, you just knew without a shadow of doubt that you would love that child more than you loved your own life and die for the little being if you needed to. To protect them from any harm.

Little did you know you had a na'vi in front you willing to give you as many na'vi babies as you'd let him. Neteyam loved you so much it hurt. And little did he know you loved him too. And little did you both know that having a hybrid child was actually possible.

•.°☆•.°☆•.°

Sooo... it's my first fanfic in English and it's not my first language so please be gentle with me and forgive me for any mistakes. This story is gonna have more parts written soon. I'm thinking of writing some smut within the story and maybe put some breeding kink coming from Neteyam and his human loving it. What do you guys think? Would you want me to? Tell me in the comments haha Please, like and/or reblog this post if you like it. Love you guys 💙

[hannahbarberra162]

Can't Fix Fix A Broken Heart - Chapter 5

Now on Ao3

Chapter 4 Chapter 6

Chapter 5 - New Beginnings With Newgate

18+, MDNI.

I realized “Moby Jr” is not canonically in OP. It's from “Oh, Sweet Child of Mine” by mamamittens on Ao3. That story got me down the OP yandere rabbit hole in general. I’m not caught up with current OP yet so sometimes I get things wrong. Please feel free to correct me.

Also, there will be more smut eventually. Just not quite yet. We’re sailing in the right direction. 

You walked down the road robotically, not thinking about where you were walking. You had said your teary eyed goodbye to the Brothers - you really would miss them. Walking, you were flanked by the four men, who were slowing down to match your shorter stride. Ace was holding your things at his insistence. You didn’t feel like talking and they weren’t asking you anything. You were already tired and wanted to nap - you didn’t have much stamina. You’d run through a gamut of emotions and fixed all those tables. Normally the fixing alone would have you snoozing. But you had a feeling there wouldn’t be a chance to sleep for a while to come. After all, it was only early afternoon. 

“Cariña, would you like me to carry you? You look like you could use a rest,” offered Thatch. You blushed a little. Carry you? Like a baby? Were you that pathetic? You still had enough pride to walk even if the offer was a little tempting. 

“Ah, no? Thank you though? We’re almost at the wharf,” you said, pointing down the road. And indeed you were - you saw the Moby Jr. gently bobbing on the water. Once the cobblestones of the street ended and the boardwalk to the docks began, your hands started to shake. It was just a lot. You couldn’t even separate all your feelings of sorrow, loss, nervousness and trepidation from one another. 

Vista, Thatch, and Ace all continued walking while Marco stopped you for a moment. He put his hand on your shoulder and turned you towards him. You looked up at him, feeling unsure and weak. He chucked your chin with one large index finger. “Chin up, it will be OK yoi. You’ll be among friends. Oyaji is intense but he means well.” You nodded silently. You weren’t sure about friends but it did make you feel better that you already were acquainted with a few crew members.

Marco moved his hand to your shoulder and you saw some blue flames leave his arm for yours. You screeched in surprise - was the fire going to burn you? Marco looked down and only smiled, keeping his arm where it was. “Don’t worry, those are just small healing flames from the Phoenix. I forget to control them some of the time.” He tilted his head and asked “are you injured somewhere? They don’t appear indiscriminately. I’ll check you out when we get back to the main ship.”

“O-oh, that won’t be necessary, I’m completely fine,” you said nervously shifting your shoulders under his arm. Marco hummed but didn’t say anything else.

Everything blurred together as you set sail on the Moby Jr. Since the visit to your island was for supplies and partying, you weren’t far from the Moby Dick itself. You felt your eyelids drooping - the afternoon sun was so warm and the sea air so pleasant. You had forgotten that being aboard a ship could be relaxing. You knew you were at your limit and needed to rest. You had a hard time sleeping in front of other people - let alone people you didn’t know that well. And the boat was rather small - it would be hard to find a spot where you felt secure enough and out of the way enough to actually sleep. You poked around a little bit and decided to rest between two of the supply crates they were bringing back. Just a quick little refresher and you’d be all set…

You didn’t know how much time had passed before you heard footsteps stop in front of you. You immediately woke up with a start, in full fight or flight mode. You had always been a light sleeper but now were attuned to any noise approaching you when you were sleeping. Marco was crouched in front of you, giving you a relaxed smile. 

“We’re here yoi. Let’s not keep everyone waiting,” he said while ruffling your hair. You took a deep breath and got up, stretching your legs.

You two were the last ones on the boat and you followed Marco to the deck. The Moby Dick was…immense. You had never seen anything like it. It made the Marine ship you had been on look like a skiff. Marco was waiting next to a rope and wood slatted ladder, motioning for you to climb first. You went up to the ladder, frowned slightly, and made the hand gesture for Fix Fix. Only then did you start to climb the ladder.

“I didn’t think the ladder was broken yoi,” Marco said conversationally while you two were climbing.

“It wasn’t yet. But the rope was deteriorating between the second and third rungs of the ladder. It’s been in use for a while and was getting worn down.”

“But if it wasn’t broken, how did you fix it?”

“Oh, um. I can sense when things need fixing, even if they haven’t completely broken yet. I prefer to fix things before they actually break if I can. Like, I can tell that the screw in the left arm of your glasses is stripped and may fall out soon. It’s an awareness I can tune into. It's really not that interesting. And, um, I can also fix your glasses when we get to the top. If you want.”

Marco laughed and said “Thank you. Such a sweet offer.” Suddenly, he let go of the ladder completely and fell as if in a dive. But before you could blink, he was rising above you in his Pheonix form. You could do nothing but stare. It was absolutely breathtaking. He was the most amazing creature you’d ever seen - or would see -in your life. The rippling blue feathery flames, his golden accents, the elegant way his body soared through the air…He was utterly and completely magnificent. You wanted to watch him fly for hours and you knew you’d still want to see more. He stretched his mighty talons as he flew by. You saw their razor sharp edges and cringed at the thought of being at the wrong end of those weapons.

He landed at the top of the ship, partially transformed himself, and offered you a hand to come over the side of the ship. You were still watching his resplendent form and took his hand. He then changed back completely into a man and said simply “Welcome home.”

You wanted to talk to him about his Phoenix form, but it was hard to focus on any one thing when you were finally aboard the Moby Dick. People were milling about, working, people were calling and waving to Marco, Thatch was already drinking and laughing with Ace…there were so many people moving around, so many things to look at, and your devil fruit was calling for you to fix a million different things. And everything was so…large. You felt like you were a kid again, sitting at a chair that was too big for you and swinging your feet. You didn’t have much time to ponder, because Marco once again put his arm over your shoulders really, a simple tap on the shoulder would do and said “c’mon. Oyaji wants to meet you.”

Marco POV

When you looked up at him at the wharf with your big sad eyes, he almost scooped you into his arms up right there. You needed someone looking after you, and he was ready for a new project. You were like a little wounded bird he could nurse back to health. And just like a wounded bird, once he earned your trust and healed you, you’d be thankful and loyal to him. 

When he saw you tucked away, sleeping on the boat? Oh, the things he’d wanted to do to you. You looked so innocent and serene - and calm for once. He loved seeing you at peace, but it brought other thoughts to mind. How would you react to waking up with his head between your luscious thighs, holding them apart, licking and nibbling as a good morning surprise? Would you mewl quietly like a little kitten or would you be loudly moaning his name as you came on his tongue? Would you taste as delicious as you smelled? He knew he’d find out eventually. 

He loved how awe struck you looked when you first saw his Pheonix form. Like he was a God come to life. He didn’t feel bad about pulling out all the stops, he knew the kind of impression his Phoenix gave. He wanted you to see how powerful he was and yes, maybe to intimidate you a little bit. A healthy dose of fear might help you remember that might makes right on the seas, and you needed someone like him.

He knew he and the others were touching you a lot and that you didn’t like it. It did break his heart a little to see you flinch every time anyone came near you. But touching you was the first step of making you comfortable with their attention. And he needed you to be very comfortable for the kind of attention he was going to give you.

Y/N POV

Obviously, this was Whitebeard’s ship. You knew that. It wasn’t a surprise. But you just didn’t think through the idea that you would have to actually meet Whitebeard himself. Marco calmly walked you towards the rear of the deck. You were nervous, naturally. You were meeting a Yonko and requesting to be let on his ship, who wouldn’t be? You saw a dais surrounded by nurses wearing pink uniforms…and thigh high leopard boots. They were fussing over the largest man you had ever seen, who was sitting nonchalantly on a regal looking armchair. He was powerful even at rest. You wanted to stop moving closer but Marco still had an arm over your shoulders, so you were propelled along with him.

“Marco, welcome back my son,” boomed Whitebeard. “I hear we have a new child coming on board.” Whitebeard turned his attention to you - it felt like being in the center of a hundred flame dials. You started fidgeting, and Marco patted your shoulder with the hand that was already there. You briefly turned your head to the side and saw that other people had started watching the conversation from the sidelines - making you feel like you were being watched in an arena. It seemed news traveled fast on the ship.

“Thank you Oyaji. We found someone in need of assistance working with Vista’s brothers. She just got her first bounty.”

“GRARARARARA, what did you do, child? Congratulations” laughed Whitebeard.

Still fidgeting - pinching your fingers, you answered “I, um, didn’t do anything. They said I was part of a pirate crew but I’m not. I think they just want me back. I didn’t do anything, um, bad.”

“Well, there’s always time to change that,” Whitebeard remarked with a smile. Even though he was large enough to squish you like a bug, he gave you a warm feeling. You felt comfortable speaking to him, even in front of the growing crowd.

“What’s your name, child?”

“Y/N”

Marco added “she’s also a devil fruit user. She has the Fix Fix fruit. Maybe could help us out if we ask her nicely.”

“Is that so, child?” Whitebeard said to you with an indulgent smile.

“Ah, yes,” you said, gaining a little bit of confidence. “I can fix almost anything. I’ve worked on ships before so I’m familiar with the kind of repairs they usually need. But I’ve never been on a ship like this,” you said gesturing in a motion indicating the ship as a whole. 

“GRARARARARARA no one has, child. Welcome aboard.” He tossed his head towards the nurses. “Tate can show you where the women’s quarters are. Settle in, and we’ll celebrate gaining another sibling.”

The crew raised their voices in a raucous cheer, which startled you. You had been focusing so much attention on your interaction with Whitebeard you had almost forgotten they were there.

You were astonished at Whitebeard's words - new sibling? You didn’t know that you were going to stay here on board! Did that mean you were in the crew? Or just that you were allowed to stay? Your head was spinning and you didn’t know what to say, so you said the first thing that popped into your mind.

“Um, thank you Captain Whitebeard. Would you like me to fix your chair?” 

You heard Whitebeard laugh again as Marco took his arm off your shoulders and sauntered over to Whitebeard. They started talking in low tones, with Whitebeard laughing intermittently. Tate stepped down off the dais and approached you with a broad smile.

“It’s nice to have another woman on board, Y/N! I'm Tate, the chief nurse on board. Come along with me, I’ll show you where to put your belongings. And as long as we’re going that way, we might as well give you your introductory physical.”

“Physical? Like, a doctor’s visit?”

“Oh yes. Everyone gets one when they first join. It’s standard practice. And you’ve already met the doctor, Marco.”

You gulped - this was not something you had anticipated.

[indieyuugure]

I'll miss our pretty boys but at least glad we are gonna get a good conclution 💖

Indeed, they will be missed 😢

Parting is such sweet sorrow…

But the ending will be good, I promise!

[iveriee]

hiii!! how are you lovely? id like to request a tom riddle x soft!hufflepuff reader? reader has seen him as her best friend since first year but then she over hears him talking about how he does not care for her :( so now he just wonders why she’s no longer “clingy” or sweet to him. hurt&comfort, angsty ish, i just want a grovelling riddle 🫠🫠

★;ANSWER: Of course! I'm doing well, Thank you for asking. I apologise if this is not to your liking.

★;CATEGORY: Angst.

★;PAIRING: Tom Riddle x Gn!Hufflepuff!Reader

★;SUMMARY: in which.. he repents his actions.

★;PS: This fic contains severe mentions of toxicity and a slight implication of death and violence. If anything of the sort makes you disheartened, then i would suggest you not to read this. As I mentioned, I have been quite stressed due to my examinations and Henceforth the quality of this fic may be a bit lower than expected. I attempt my very best to improve my writing. Once again, English is NOT my first language and hence, feel free to correct any grammatical incorrections. Writing non-yandere fics is quite strange for me and i apologise if I have accidentally made him into a yandere. I'm aware you mentioned a Fem!Reader, however I'll be doing a Gn!reader as to be more inclusive!Of course I had to use 'perhaps', 'henceforth' and 'quite'. And of course, i had to make Abraxas Malfoy an utter jerk.as it's a headcanon of mine that the Malfoys are all jerks.

Perhaps they presume us not to cling to others—to adhere to the cinders of a strained candle, of a relationship that ceased to live. To cater to it's ghost, it's bones. With one ray of aspiration, that the other would return. Yet you did. You had ever since that day. That evocative day in the Great Hall. That day when you ventured to befriend Riddle. That day when you shelved your sorrow as if it was a gruelling test you so utterly detested. And perhaps, you always would do so. Whether it was inadequate or purposeful, you paid heed to him. For six years, you had done so now. Yet none of your amiability ushered reciprocation from him. None. You'd praise his talents. You'd jest with him. You'd attempt to find solace in his ignorance. Of course, that was, not possible. You were human after all. Perhaps, it was due to you being a Hufflepuff? Perhaps it was as he did not how to convey his feelings? Perhaps, you utterly and desperately desired to invent an excuse for his behaviour.

And Henceforth, one abominable day, when your potion transformed indictable, far off the path of the accurate instructions—You tilted your gaze downwards. The mortification was quite too much for you. The air smeared you, resulting in quivering. A mere reach for your quill felt like a distinguished task. To mix lumber to the fire, An awful act happened. Which, of course, had to include him. Prying your ears, you examined. To distinguish the start, Riddle was frowning at the sight of your dismay(perhaps, not your dismay..).. If you had, perhaps, attempted to tell anyone that, they'd blaze into laughter. Of course, he did not look any less appealing, even whilst frowning. (If you knew the correct reasoning, that is)

However, of course, somebody had to destroy such a thing and that git was indeed Abraxas Malfoy. Perhaps, he ought to diminish the tension. And Henceforth Malfoy cast a repulsed look...at you..perhaps? "[Last Name] is a scatterbrain." He spoke to Riddle. "I think you're acquainted with them, My lord?" Imbecile you concluded to yourself, scowling. Yet the act that cast the most anticipation was Riddle's response. Your heart blazed. Sweat grazed your cheeks. Would, he, perhaps, come to your defence? It was juvenile,a foolish reassurance, the concluding luminosity of your life. Perhaps he cared. The mere wonder of it made you smile. (albeit somewhat slight)

If Tom concealed his feelings, then, perhaps he was quite proficient at it because his thoughts were utterly and completely inscrutable. Your frame began quivering. You steadied your gaze and examined him, with a surge of internal reassurance. "If that is,perhaps, what you believe to be true, then I must say, I do not care for [Last Name] and nor do i have no intention of paying heed to them." He stated firmly, causing Malfoy to flinch. "They are merely a classmate and a stranger to me."

Engulfed. That was the stature of your luminosity. Engulfed by him and the vicious wave that was sorrow(certainly a wave you'd never get over of). Tears plunged your cheeks before you could make of it and your lips closed on eachother. Restraining your palm against your mouth, you quivered. No, this had to have been another formidable nightmare of yours—it had to have been. He could not have been so...cruel. He had to have considered you as an acquaintance, at the very least . You loved him. You indeed did. With all your heart. Ever since the day you first gazed upon him. And yet, this was the conclusion, the answer to your persistent affection? You had splurged years in the aspiration that he'd...care. You were, sincerely and utterly pitiable. Life was an anguished tale. And, of course, you were the one having to suffer it.

And henceforth, this very abominable day, you quit your attempts to gain heed and he began his.

[★]

Perhaps nobody at Hogwarts with an orderly mind would have ever believed that Tom Riddle yearned after a mere Hufflepuff . Neither would the Hufflepuff in interrogation. Of course, he displayed no clues of mourning. On the budding days, he discovered no need for your juvenile affection. It was otherworldly to even wonder that he would require you. You brought no assistance to him and he regarded you as a 'mere nuisance.' Yet as herbage mutated copper—honed and gnawing, plunging onto the vicious month of October, The Hogwarts castle glinted with eerie ginger and blazing green, the act of ignorance from you towards him became...perplexing.. to say the very least.

It felt vacant. He felt vacant. As much as Riddle cherished his pride, He was almost wounded by your actions.You no longer bothered to praise him tenderly or adhere onto him. You no longer attempted to even gaze at him. However, as he had reassured himself quite alot of times, he had no requirement for you. And so henceforth, he persisted with life, excelling and being applauded like every other common day. Yet, you cannot merely plunge sorrow by detaining it. And perhaps, it shall make the matters worse when it rises, sizzling up to the surface to swamp you.

That sorrow certainly rose early.

And assisted with a broth of envy and guilt.(though, of course, he would never admit so) You had, at last—created proper friendships with amiable people, unlike, a very certain somebody whom you, precisely, despised now. To examine you speak to others, to see you content;considerate, sympathetic (Not with him, of course) slashed him with envy so utterly disdainful. In an instant's heed, He began to covet you, to crave you. He ought to have your affection once again. To possess your sweet, agreeable praise again. To have you clutch onto him. To fluster you, and—And perhaps, even kill to do so. Of course, the victims' identities were quite evident. Perhaps, it was merely amusement he required from you. Or perhaps, he may have, though quite unlikely, fallen in love.

And so henceforth, one agreeable day, when you had attempted to plod to the Black Lake—only to be approached by him. You felt satisfaction and hatred as you utterly refused to gaze at him.Your reasoning,being,the way he gazed upon you. You felt a rooting inclination to speak, yet, of course, you did not, allowing him to begin this clutter of a 'conversation'. (you could swear to Merlin that you had examined sorrow in his eyes!). The silence stirred distant. He spoke. "Greetings, [Name]." It felt as though you had, perhaps, heard the most astonishing wonder in the world. "I aspire that you are doing well?" You scowled at such a cloyed question. "I suppose i should get to the point, shouldn't it? Indeed, I would like to apologize for my behaviour. As you are aware Malfoy is—"

"An imbecile, yes." You responded curtly, frowning at the mere sight of him. He was,perhaps, too bewitching for you to be furious at. "Quit the Formalities, Riddle..."

"Is that so?" He questioned, inching quite near, smiling viciously. "In mere words, i would be honoured to rekindle our.. friendship." His smile diminished and his handsome face reeked of vulnerability. It was equivalent to viewing lime skies. Your heart ached to embrace him, to weep onto his chest, to allow him to comfort you—Yet, you could not fulfill it. You had dignity. And yet, you had love. Towards him. And perhaps, you always would. Tears boiled once more, and you gazed at him. He embraced you, and you had what you had so potently ached for. His hands cupped your cheeks as he smiled at you and you returned the act, though in tears. Joyful tears. Perhaps, he even shed a tear himself. (though unlikely). He pressed his lips onto yours and so did you. Profoundly. "Repentance, perhaps, inched us nearer, didn't it, love?"