#Grace Field Children

[naehja]

And it's my second The Promised Neverland Fanfic

It's in french, because i'm more comfortable to write fanfic in my native tongue. ^^"

Summary: January 2046. Peter Ratri has a diabolical idea to punish Isabella after the evasion of the children. Not only will she be named Grandmother and will be forced to continue to perpetuate the system, but she will have to have two children. A son to replace Ray, a daughter to take over in the future.

Thank to @officersnickers to have helped me to put all my ideas in orders =)

[agentbootyreportingforduty]

these two are literally the most girldad! shaped characters i’ve been ever seen in my life

[sophiesbookishthings]

August Reads

Tress of the Emerald Sea by Brandon Sanderson

This book reminded me a lot of Ella Enchanted for some reason. It had a very similar vibe with the love story and the adventure. Wit/Hoid was the narrator which was delightful. I always love a good immortal silly guy who's actually wise and powerful that shows up all the time. Also this book has pirates, so big selling point for me. And I thought the whole spore thing going on with Tress's planet was really cool. 12 moons is a bit excessive though lol. I really liked this book a lot, it was fun. Definitely a book I'll be rereading at some point I think.

5/5 ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

The Book of Bill by Bill Cipher Alex Hirsch

Oh Gravity Falls my beloved. This show is still like top 10 for me tbh. It just fits my brand of weird so well. And idk if I was always like this or if I'm like this because of Gravity Falls lol. I can't believe we got new content in 2024. Also, Ford and Bill are totally exes. Mabel's right.

5/5 ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Circe by Madeline Miller

I will always love a good greek mythology retelling. I was (and will always be) a Percy Jackson kid at heart. I will admit, though, I didn't know a ton about Circe going into this, as I often confused her and Calypso. But as per any mythology based book I read, there were a lot of ventures to wikipedia to learn a bit more about who's who and what else they were involved in. Oddly enough, though, I hated The Odyssey when i had to read it in high school. If there's 1000 Odysseus haters, I'm one of them, etc., etc. or whatever. But Penelope (my beloved) was done right in this book. I also liked that Circe is a morally grey protagonist in the story. She does a lot of stuff that is not really very good, but I support women's wrongs so I thought she was super interesting. And altogether i just really liked this book. There's something about the way Madeline Miller writes that hits just right for me.

4.5/5 ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️✨️

In an Absent Dream by Seanan McGuire

I love the Wayward Children series so much. I was a lot like Lundy as a kid. Very about rules and books and pretty alone. I really found the goblin market super intriguing and I think it's one of the worlds from the series I would do best in. It's all about fair deals so it can be harsh at times but it was always fair. I knew the end of the book was coming since Lundy was a character in previous books but it did still hit hard.

4/5 ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Across the Green Grass Fields by Seanan McGuire

More Wayward Children! The main character of this book was intersex, which I didn't actually know going into it, but it was neat cause I don't think I've ever read a book with an intersex character before. I really liked the setting of this book. The Hooflands seem to be one of the least harrowing worlds in the series. I loved the centaurs that took care of Regan. They were fun.

Belladonna by Adalyn Grace

4/5 ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Elantris by Brandon Sanderson

This one was really good. I've had this book for a while now and I just haven't got around to reading it until now and I'm so glad I finally picked it up. I really liked both the main character and the love interest, which is kinda rare for me. The whole concept of a girl that's quite literally followed by death was really cool and very well done. I'm excited to read the rest of the series, which I believe is recently completed.

5/5 ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

I'm trying so hard not to finish all the Sanderson books (but mostly the stormlight archive) before Wind and Truth comes out in December. So I'm reading standalones and definitely not Rythm of War. Tell me why this book took me so long to finish though. I've read stormlight archive books in less time than this took me. It wasn't even that I disliked this book in any way I just don't think it grabbed me as much and I struggled to make myself sit down and read it. This book was super heavy on the politics and religious aspects of the plot and I think that may have been what caused it to drag for me since I tend to be a bit more interested in the magic aspect of fantasy books. But luckily that did pick up a bit more toward the end. But anyway! I loved Sarene in particular. I thought she was so cool. She was manipulating the hell out of people the whole book and I loved it. The end did make me interested see what Sanderson will do in the sequel.

3.75/5 ⭐️⭐️⭐️✨️

[powdermelonkeg]

Cheat Code #2 for accommodating disabled characters in sci-fi/fantasy:

How you aid a disability depends on if it's a new development or had always existed.

i.e.: If someone's lost their legs to a griffin biting them off last week, giving them steampunk prosthetic legs is a good aid. There's something they can't do, that they very recently could, that they need to learn to work around. The prosthetic legs still need an adjustment period to learn how to use them, but your character knows how legs should work and can figure it out more easily.

If someone lost their legs because, as a child, they wandered away from the space field trip and got partially eaten by a carnivorous plant, then it depends. Prosthetic legs can technically work, but the longer the character was without legs, the harder it'll be to re-learn how to use them. You might want to go with bionic legs for short distances, but a hover chair for daily use.

If someone was born without legs, then prosthetic legs are more hindrance than they're worth. Your character has never had legs, and has no idea how they're supposed to work.

Imagine if you're in a world of centaurs; you're given prosthetic hind legs, and now expected to be able to climb up cliffs with the grace of a mountain goat. It's a whole new skill you'd have to learn, and you would get annoyed with it very fast; how are they supposed to sync with the legs you already have? How are you supposed to balance? You can't feel anything, you don't know how much space it occupies.

Someone who's always been disabled doesn't need the thing they were born without, they need aid that lets them do what everyone else can in a way they're familiar with. If your character has always been deaf, glasses with subtitles appearing on them are infinitely more useful than aids that let them hear, because hearing when you've always had silence is going to have a steep learning curve and be ridiculously overwhelming.

Your rule of thumb?

Try to give them something they're used to.

Note: This is different with very small children, because they're already learning how to use every part of them. If a toddler in your sci-fi was born without legs, they can be taught to use bionic legs at a very young age, but it has to start early or it'll run into the problems above.

Cheat code 1: How to avoid eliminating disability in your setting

Cheat Code 3: How to make your setting itself disability-friendly

Cheat Code 4: How to personalize your character's disability aid

[i-like-writing-stuff]

never changing [ five hargreeves x reader ]

a/n: hi y’all! it’s been a hot minute since i’ve been on here, but after the absolute shit show that season 4 was, some sparks ignited in me to write up anything to take my mind off it 🙌

its not anything crazy, just fluff and banter since i haven’t written anything in years so it may be as poorly redacted as this season lmao

summary: five and y/n attend their niece birthday party together, yet separate

“Happy birthday, little Gracie!” You smiled widely, trying not to drop the wrapped present box as the six year old girl jumped into your arms, “Oh my gosh, look at you! You’re just getting prettier by day, aren’t you?”

You had just got off work in a hurry to make your appearance at the little girl’s birthday party at a decent time, in spite of the amount of paperwork you managed to bury yourself in lately. You knew how much it would have meant for the celebrated one to show up and you couldn’t bear to let her down, especially on her birthday.

After spending most of your life working for the Commission, and then a decent amount of time exhausting yourself in trying to stop multiple Apocalypses, your last six years have been pretty quiet as a lawyer. You really wanted to get out of the whole assassin thing, but at the same time couldn’t exactly move on from the thrill of the work field. Your career as a lawyer took off really well these past years, but inevitably it came along with the cost of always being stuck at work, so whenever your niece got the chance to see you, she was truly enthusiastic.

“Auntie Y/N!” She wrapped her tiny arms around your neck, engulfing you into a tight hug, “You are here!”

Nonetheless, these six years have been truly and undeniably the most peaceful time of your life for as long as you could remember.

“You literally saw each other the other day,” Five raised a brow, watching you and the celebrated one act as if you hadn’t seen each other in years.

You and the little girl shared a look, before rolling your eyes and turning to glare at the man next to you. Ever since Grace learned how to talk, you and her would gang up on her uncle for your amusement, especially since he was so keen on entertaining the banter.

These past six year have gone by in the blink of an eye, yet at the same time at a slow and steady pace. You spent most of your time working anyway, but still kept in touch with the seven siblings you’d grown to love.

Some in different ways than others.

“Uncle Five, you’re always more excited than me to see Aunt Y/N,” Gracie waved him off, making you burst out laughing, “Jealousy isn’t a good look on you anyway.”

“What is a good look on him anyway?” You smirked, making the little girl laugh, as Five swept her into his arms;

“Okay, munchkin, it’s your birthday today, but tomorrow I’m going back to bullying you,” He joked, causing you both to laugh, before the two shared a hug before you, “You’re lucky your gift has no return policy.”

The party had already started by the time you made it there. The playground was huddled by other kids around Grace’s age, along with their parents. The music was playing loudly over the laughter of children and you were pretty sure that most of the family had already arrived. It was not the most ideal gathering, but you tried your best to keep in touch with most of the family to your best capabilities.

“Y/N, I’m so glad you could make it!” Luther smiled, appearing from the crowd of guests, immediately giving you a big hug as his niece was still wrapped around Five, “Haven’t seen you since Thanksgiving!”

“Big shot lawyer doesn’t always have the time to stay in touch with family, huh?” Diego teased you, following suit, as you rolled your eyes, dropping off his daughter’s gift in his hands.

“Big shot delivery driver doesn’t know the phone works both ways, huh?” You smirked, putting your hands on your hips.

Diego laughed out loud as he gave you a hug, always in the mood for a back and forth short banter with you. After all, you truly were family, even if you didn’t always have the time to be present in the Hargreeves’ day to day lives. You may have met them in the original timeline in 2019, when you accidentally time traveled with your former partner at the Commission, Five, but after all you’ve been through, you didn’t need to have grown up together or be blood related to be considered that. And you truly were grateful for each and every single one of them, in spite of the many differences over the years.

After everything that’s happened six years ago at Hotel Oblivion, everyone went their separate ways. Allison was back with her daughter while trying to further her acting career and also help Klaus stay on the sober line, Viktor had moved to Canada where he opened a bar, Diego and Lila had three kids, Luther was “professionally dancing”, Ben had some run-ins with the law and Five, ironically enough, was working for the CIA.

“Well, you two are as annoying as always,” Ben told you and his brother, making Diego roll his eyes as he walked towards the gift table to set down your present.

“Please try to stay out of prison at least for the remainder of the year,” You joked with the man, making him roll his eyes as he hugged you loosely, “There’s only so much favors I could owe the DA.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Ben groaned, “I don’t even know why they let you work at the law firm since you still look like a prepubescent with no boobs. Even Five got a growth spurt.”

“I sized up to B recently, thank you very much,” You nudged his shoulder, before placing your hands on your chest in an offended manner.

“Okay, Gracie, not a conversation you’d wanna hear,” Five spoke up, putting his niece down, “Your aunt needs to learn some etiquette on how to act around children.”

“Funny coming from you,” You couldn’t help but wave him off.

You didn’t come in with Five at the party, but as fate had it, you did run into him as you were parking your car. He had just gone out to his brother’s dusty van to bring inside some more cookies for the guests. You kept in touch with him as well, but not as often as you would have liked. It’s not all that serious, but given the fact that you were a lawyer still climbing your way to the top and him being a top notch CIA agent, you didn’t exactly have the time to hang out.

At least, not as much as you’d have liked.

Five was watching you with a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips, and his hands in his pockets. He had the same look on his face as always when watching you. He had the same smile when he saw you in combat for the first time during your first mission for the Commission together, the same look in his eyes when you appeared for the first time in 2019 alongside him in your teen bodies. The same posture he had when he met you again in 1963 after months of not seeing each other.

He wore the same love on his face while looking at you when you and the siblings split up after the events at Oblivion.

And never once did you notice that.

Not once in these past six years you let your feelings surface.

“You know Grace is my niece too, right?” He couldn’t drop the small smile even if he wanted to.

“Since when are you such a family man?” You raised a brow, trying to keep a confident composure.

“Oh, something changed in me between the first and third time I traded the world for my siblings,” He lightly shrugged his shoulders, making you roll your eyes at the sarcastic remark.

You two never changed.

“Please, I was there for the twins birth,” You waved him off.

You rarely see Five, and even when you do you always try to act normal, as you do around the rest of the Hargreeves. Everyone tried to get you two together at first, since the apocalypse was over and there was no reason for you to not get together, right?

You really wished it was that easy. In hindsight, maybe it was. But you couldn’t take any chances in losing Five forever if something were to go wrong. Maybe some would see it as something stupid, or as if you wasted so many years, but to you- mentally, you were almost seventy, while physically nineteen. You had so much time ahead of you now, all that mattered was to get a stable career first.

Five let a chuckle escape, shaking his head in disbelief, as he looked at the floor for a couple of seconds. When he looked back at you, you tried to keep your composure. You couldn’t help but feel pathetic that after all these years, your heart still skipped a beat whenever he’d look at you.

“You’re doing that thing again where you forget that some other people are still around, guys,” Luther raised his hand, grabbing your attention once again.

“I got bored of watching seventy year old virgins,” Ben shrugged his shoulders, “I’m gonna go get shitfaced.”

“Always a delight seeing you, Benjamin,” Five said, as Luther followed the ex-tentacle boy suit to make re he was not about to actually get drunk;

“This is a six year old’s birthday party!”

You giggled, watching the two brothers speed away while arguing amongst the kids in the crowd. When your eyes laid back on Five, who was intently watching you, you couldn’t help but feel a small blush creep its way in your cheeks.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Spit it out, Hargreeves.”

“I said it’s nothing!”

“Fuck you.”

“Why?”

You watched him dumbfounded for a couple of seconds because of the only answer he could come up with, before walking away, hoping he would follow you.

When he did try to keep up with you, you looked away to hide the proud smile. Even after all these years, things were still the same with him. He was still so eager to spend time with you, he was still smiling at you and entertaining your conversation.

“Aunt Y/N, Uncle Five, come play in the ball pit!” Gracie ushered you from afar, already tucked in the plastic colorful balls.

“You heard the birthday girl!” You smiled, grabbing his hand to drag Five after you.

Even after all these years he would instantly lock his fingers with yours.

[obsidian-pages777]

Bella in your Astrology Chart: Your Beauty and Grace.

The asteroid Bella (number 695) in astrology is associated with beauty, grace, and attraction. Its placement in the houses and signs of a natal chart can reveal how these qualities manifest in a your life and how you appreciate and express beauty.

Bella in the Signs

Aries:

Bella in Aries suggests a dynamic and bold approach to beauty. There is a preference for vibrant, energetic, and pioneering styles. Confidence and a direct manner in expressing attractiveness are highlighted.

Taurus:

In Taurus, Bella's energy is sensual and grounded. There is a strong appreciation for natural beauty, comfort, and luxurious aesthetics. This placement often indicates a classic and earthy style.

Gemini:

Bella in Gemini emphasizes versatility and variety in beauty. There is a fascination with different forms of expression, often changing styles frequently. Communication and intellectual charm are attractive qualities.

Cancer:

With Bella in Cancer, there is a nurturing and sentimental approach to beauty. Comfort and emotional connection to aesthetics are important. Traditional and homely styles are often preferred.

Leo:

Bella in Leo brings a dramatic and glamorous energy. There is a love for attention-grabbing styles and a flair for the dramatic. Confidence and creativity in self-expression are emphasized.

Virgo:

In Virgo, Bella's energy is modest and refined. There is an appreciation for subtle, clean, and well-organized aesthetics. Practicality and attention to detail in beauty routines are highlighted.

Libra:

Bella in Libra emphasizes harmony, balance, and elegance. There is a strong attraction to aesthetically pleasing environments and relationships. Sophistication and a diplomatic approach to beauty are key themes.

Scorpio:

With Bella in Scorpio, there is an intense and mysterious energy. There is a preference for deep, transformative, and sometimes edgy styles. Passion and magnetism are prominent qualities.

Sagittarius:

Bella in Sagittarius brings an adventurous and free-spirited approach to beauty. There is an appreciation for diverse and culturally rich aesthetics. Optimism and a love for exploration are attractive qualities.

Capricorn:

In Capricorn, Bella's energy is disciplined and classic. There is a preference for timeless, structured, and professional styles. Practicality and a sense of responsibility in beauty choices are emphasized.

Aquarius:

Bella in Aquarius emphasizes innovation and individuality. There is an attraction to unconventional and avant-garde aesthetics. Originality and a forward-thinking approach to beauty are key themes.

Pisces:

With Bella in Pisces, there is a mystical and dreamy energy. There is a preference for ethereal, romantic, and imaginative styles. Sensitivity and a connection to the spiritual in aesthetics are highlighted.

Bella in the Houses

1st House:

Bella in the 1st house suggests that beauty and grace are integral to your identity. You may be seen as attractive and charming, and these qualities are prominent in your self-expression.

2nd House:

In the 2nd house, Bella's energy focuses on values, resources, and personal security. There may be a talent for making a living through beauty-related fields, and a strong value placed on aesthetics.

3rd House:

Bella in the 3rd house emphasizes communication, learning, and local community. You may have a gift for sharing beauty knowledge or creative ideas through writing, teaching, or speaking.

4th House:

With Bella in the 4th house, there is a focus on home, family, and emotional foundations. Beauty and aesthetics may be central to your family life, and you may create a nurturing and artistic home environment.

5th House:

Bella in the 5th house highlights creativity, self-expression, and children. There is a strong emphasis on using artistic talents or beauty in a joyful and playful manner. You may also be involved in creative projects with children.

6th House:

In the 6th house, Bella's energy is directed towards daily routines, work, and health. There may be a focus on integrating beauty practices into your everyday life or using your creative talents in a work setting.

7th House:

Bella in the 7th house emphasizes partnerships and relationships. You may seek or attract partners who are involved in beauty or creative fields. Aesthetics and charm play a significant role in your relationships.

8th House:

With Bella in the 8th house, there is a focus on transformation, shared resources, and deep psychological processes. This placement can indicate a talent for creating beauty out of intense experiences or using aesthetics as a means of transformation.

9th House:

Bella in the 9th house emphasizes philosophy, higher learning, and travel. There may be a focus on exploring beauty practices from different cultures or using creative talents to express philosophical ideas.

10th House:

In the 10th house, Bella's energy is directed towards career and public life. There may be a strong desire to achieve recognition in beauty or creative fields. Ambition and a sense of responsibility are prominent.

11th House:

Bella in the 11th house highlights friendships, groups, and aspirations. You may be involved in beauty or creative communities, and these themes are central to your long-term goals and aspirations.

12th House:

With Bella in the 12th house, there is a focus on spirituality, subconscious, and hidden aspects of life. This placement can indicate a talent for finding beauty in the unseen or using aesthetics as a means of connecting with the divine or the subconscious mind.

[fullscoreshenanigans]

#Alicia be like “rip to Lani but I'm different”

Rip Lani 2038-2046

[shalomniscient]

arlecchino has recieved many nicknames from you over the years. love and dearest are her favourites, though she does sometimes field darling as well. when you’re feeling mischievous, arlie takes the stage. and when you’re feeling especially tender, under the sheets with the warm hearth crackling away opposite the bed, perrie graces her ears as gentle as your embrace.

she thought, perhaps naively, that you’d run out of clever little ideas for yet more nicknames for her. but tonight, as you pick out your necklace from your vanity, you surprise her yet again.

“angel, can you help me with this?”

and arlecchino, fourth of the fatui harbingers, father of the house of the hearth, goes completely and utterly still. her hands, which were busy fixing her cufflinks, pause midair as she looks at you in the mirror with a thoroughly perplexed expression. when she finally finds her voice again, it’s uncharacteristically tentative.

“angel?”

you return her look in the mirror, head tilted at a questioning 45 degrees. “my necklace, i can’t clasp it on my own.”

“no, i—“ she huffs, mildly exasperated, but steps over to help you with the necklace. it’s a delicate gold chain, with an iridescent rainbow rose charm hanging from it. a gift she’d gotten you for your birthday. “what do you mean, ‘angel’?”

“what about it?” you ask with a smile, leaning back into the delicate touch of her warm hands against your nape. “it’s quite cute, no? unless you dislike it?”

“i don’t dislike it,” she corrects, her eyes in the mirror fixed on the way the charm rests delicately above your sternum. “i merely find it… unexpected. i’m afraid i do not see how it fits.”

you hum at that, turning in your seat to face her. you take one of her dark hands, then work on fixing her cufflinks which had previously been forgotten. they’re cast in silver, and encrusted with a single, shining gem. it gleams the same colour as your eyes.

“after you gave the children that… lesson—“ Arlecchino’s expression pinches ever so slightly in something close to guilt at the small bite in your words, “—they’ve all been telling me about those wings of yours that you keep hidden. Angel happened to be one of the many descriptors used.”

You conveniently leave out the part where the children added ‘of death’ behind it. To your uses, it is blissfully unnecessary, despite how accurate it may be.

“I… see.”

You pat her hands once you’ve fixed both cufflinks, intertwining your fingers with hers as you stand from your vanity stool. Arlecchino’s expression is caught between bewilderment, surprise and the barest hint of mirth. You press a gentle kiss to her cheek, then squeeze her hand.

“Well? Shall we go, angel? Our reservation is in twenty minutes.”

Arlecchino clears her throat, then nods. Turns her gaze slightly to the side so she doesn’t have to see what she knows is an abjectly self-satisfied grin on your face at the delicate flush on her pale cheeks, her body betraying her at just how she really feels at this new nickname.

“Yes, of course. Let’s go, dearest.”

And as she walks hand in hand with you on the way to the restaurant, trailing but a few inches behind you with her eyes resting on the way your profile glows in the setting sun, she can’t help but think—if she really is an angel, then her only god would be you.

[entitled-fangirl]

Chance. (P4)

Aemond Targaryen x reader; Aegon x wife!reader

Summary: Things get messy quickly when she realizes Aemond's plans.

Part 1, 2, 3

Masterlist

..........................................

"Prince Aemond, there's been a riot."

Aemond stood tall, his back to the man. He turned his head slowly, taking in the guard's words. "And?"

"The queens and princess have been returned."

Aemond's head immediately shot to the man, his eye wide, "WHAT?"

…

"Please refrain from movement, your grace. I understand it is difficult."

She let out a soft groan, her jaw clenched so hard that she couldn't bring herself to speak.

The Grand Maester carefully moved the needle back through the skin, completing the first stitch on her brow.

Through the riot, her only major injury was a split brow. Easily manageable, though still painful.

Especially when she had to refrain from furrowing them when the pain came through. 

Sat up in bed for once, Aegon watched from afar as the maester pieced together his wife at her vanity.

He didn't try to speak. He didn't want to. Just watching. 

When the needle moved back through the skin, she took in a sharp breath, managing to not move her face besides the slight widening of her eyes. 

…

"Nonsense! Tell me." Aemond grinned.

"No! It's foolish!" She laughed. 

"I'm sure it's not. Just tell me."

She let out a breathy laugh at the thought of what she was to say, "Fine. No laughter."

He huffed playfully but shrugged, "Very well."

She took a deep breath before closing her eyes to avoid seeing his reaction. "Archery."

His eye widened. "Archery?"

She opened her eyes to look at him once she realized he was impressed rather than mocking.

He nodded, "I did not suspect that of you. Any good?"

She smiled, "My father would help me practice by throwing apples into the air."

"Did it work?"

She nodded with a smile, "Incredibly."

Aemond chuckled, "I'd like to see you with a bow in your hands."

She bit back her smile a bit, "Perhaps after our wedding."

"Oh?" He teased, "Are you trying to trick me, girl? Will I marry you only to find out you're horrid at it?"

She barked out a laugh, "Oh, yes. You've discovered my plan."

He smiled, "'Tis a good plan."

She smiled back, "It is."

…

"My queen."

She turned her head just barely to acknowledge his presence, "Aemond."

He frowned, "So informal?"

She let out a breath in amusement that quickly dropped back to her stoic behavior, "I'm afraid I'm not sure what to call you these days."

He hummed, moving further out on the balcony to join her.

He stared out at the city alongside her, "I heard of your recent… mishap."

She sighed.

He continued, "I am quite thankful you came out unharmed."

She scoffed under her breath.

He turned to look at her in slight anger, "Do my words offend you so?"

She shook her head, "You've no idea."

He let out a frustrated breath, "Then tell me."

She turned herself to look at him fully. The horrid sewing of her brow on display for him and a haunting look to match.

He had to hold himself back from gasping. It was rather horrid now, irritated and red. A striking difference to the usual calmness of her skin. 

"The maester said it may scar," she murmured. She then let out an unamused chuckle, "Perhaps you and I will match."

He gritted his teeth. "My people did this?"

She paused a moment at his choice of words, but continued, "War haunts more than just the warriors who fight it on the field."

"I'll kill them for you."

"You'll kill people fighting in these streets for their families? Wishing to feed their children at night? Do not waste your time."

Aemond jaw clenched. He forced himself to take a deep breath and reconvene himself, "Why do you not know what to call me?"

She stared out at the city, "You're a confusing man, Aemond."

"I'm not sure I understand."

She sighed, speaking with calculation but a tone of casualty, "You are the Prince. You are the King regent. You are my brother-by-law. You are our greatest warrior and fiercest dragon rider. You were my betrothed that I…" she paused as she looked at him, "And I still do not know if I can trust you."

He hummed and looked back out at the city, deep in thought. Finally, he spoke, "I assure you, I am no enemy to you, my queen."

"I have yet to decide that."

His head snapped to her, "How so? What is left to decide?" His voice grew rash, "I have defended my brother in battle and now I rule over his throne until he is well-"

"-He'll never be truly well, Aemond." She argued.

He sneered, "You must let me finish." He took a breath, "I rule in his stead, I fight his battles, and I care for his wife- all things he didn't want nor deserved from the beginning! He is weak!"

Her voice raised as she grew defensive, "Watch yourself!"

His eye scrutinized her form, "Do not pretend you are a threat to me."

"I am the QUEEN!" She yelled. 

"I. AM. THE. KING!" He roared and stepped up to her quickly.

She flinched away, taking a few steps back at the anger in his eyes.

Her voice returned to its quiet tone, "You've stated your fealty just then and there."

His face went from rage to surprise, then quickly to remorse, "I am not your enemy, my queen."

"And I almost married you," she stated. "Perhaps I married the right one after all."

…

She sat on the bed, watching the Maester help Aegon walk for the first time. 

Aegon took slow, painful steps and grunted and whines with each one. 

But a step was a step.

He managed across the room before his leg gave out.

Y/n quickly moved, throwing herself from the bed to help the maester catch him.

Together, they moved him back to the bed.

"He's making incredible progress, despite how slow it must feel to you, my queen."

She sighed lightly, "It is great progress. I am very pleased with it. Thank you."

He smiled, excusing himself quickly.

She turned her attention back to Aegon and ran a hand through what hair he had left, "That was wonderful, my love."

His eyes displayed the pain he was in. The whining continued softly as if involuntary escaping from his throat.

She turned serious suddenly, "I am going to ask you questions, Aegon. And… I don't wish to know the entire truth. You will either shake or nod your head. That is all. Understand?"

"Y… yes."

She look a long agonizing breath. She could ask anything.

"Did you truly slay Meleys?"

He shook his head.

"Is Princess Rhaenys truly dead?"

He nodded.

She sighed. "Did Aemond participate in the battle in any capacity?"

He nodded.

"Aemond and Vhagar killed Meleys?"

He nodded.

She bit her lip. How to word these questions just right?

"You were not caught in crossfire of any kind?"

He let out a grunt but shook his head.

Here it was. Just work up the nerve.

"Vhagar and her rider, Aemond Targaryen, released dragon fire upon you with the intent to kill you, knowing full and well that you were the king, Aegon Targaryen II? His brother?"

Aegon closed his eyes, beginning to hiccup and tears fell from his eyes and down his scarred face.

She stared at him, keeping the pity deep in her gut until she received an answer. "Aegon."

A curt nod.

..........................................................

taglist: @p45510n4f4shi0n, @darktrashsoulbear, @vieenr0se, @pez-unicorn, @marlenees-world, @thatbabydeer, @kahelis, @misspinkonmars

[yourmomsawh0r3]

Lost

anthony bridgerton x fem reader

summary: During a storm, Anthony Bridgerton finds his friend Y/N unconscious after a fall from her horse.

The skies over Aubrey Hall were dark and threatening, the air heavy with the promise of a storm. Anthony Bridgerton, the eldest of the Bridgerton siblings and the responsible Viscount, often found solace in the rhythmic gallop of his horse across the rolling fields. On this particular day, he decided to go for a ride despite the gathering storm clouds, hoping the fresh air would clear his mind.

As he rode through the familiar paths, his thoughts drifted to Y/N. She had been a constant in his life since they were children, their bond as strong as any familial tie. But recently, he found himself noticing her in a new light – the way her laughter warmed his heart, the spark in her eyes when she spoke of her passions, and the gentle grace she carried herself with. Yet, he had not fully confronted these feelings, pushing them aside in the face of duty and responsibility.

The first crack of thunder startled Anthony from his reverie. He looked up, realizing the storm was upon him. Deciding to turn back, he urged his horse into a faster gait. As he approached a familiar clearing, he saw a sight that made his heart stop – Y/N’s horse was galloping wildly, riderless.

Fear seized him, and he spurred his horse towards the clearing. There, amidst the pouring rain, he saw her – Y/N, lying motionless on the ground. Her form was crumpled, mud and rain soaking her clothes. Without a second thought, Anthony dismounted and rushed to her side.

“Y/N!” he screamed, his voice barely audible over the howling wind and rain. He knelt beside her, his heart pounding in his chest as he gently turned her over. Her face was pale, her eyes closed, and she was utterly still. “No, no, no,” he muttered, panic rising in his throat.

Without wasting another moment, Anthony scooped her up into his arms. She felt frighteningly light, and the fear of losing her gnawed at him with every step. “Hold on, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. “Just hold on.”

The journey back to the Bridgerton estate was a blur of rain and desperation. Anthony’s muscles burned with the effort, but he didn’t slow his pace. His only thought was getting Y/N to safety, to help. The image of her lying unconscious in the rain fueled his determination.

Finally, the grand silhouette of Aubrey Hall loomed ahead. Anthony’s cries for help alerted the staff, who rushed out to meet him. “Get the doctor!” he shouted as he carried Y/N inside. “Now!”

He placed her gently on a settee in the drawing room, his hands trembling. The house was a flurry of activity, the Bridgerton family and staff moving quickly to assist. Anthony barely registered his mother’s worried face or his siblings’ concerned questions. All he could see was Y/N, still unconscious and pale.

The family doctor arrived swiftly, ushered in by the commotion. He examined Y/N with a professional detachment that both reassured and terrified Anthony. Every second felt like an eternity as he waited for the doctor’s verdict.

“She’s sustained a concussion and some bruising,” the doctor finally said, his tone grave. “But she’s strong. With proper care and rest, she should recover fully.”

Relief flooded Anthony, and he sank to his knees beside her, tears mingling with the rain still dripping from his hair. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “Thank you.”

The hours that followed were a blur. Anthony refused to leave Y/N’s side, holding her hand and willing her to wake up. His mother brought him a dry set of clothes, but he barely noticed the discomfort of his wet clothes. All he could think about was the fear of losing her, and the realization that he couldn’t bear the thought.

As the storm raged outside, the hours stretched on. Anthony’s mind raced with memories – their childhood escapades, the laughter they shared, the unspoken bond that had always existed between them. How had he been so blind? How had he not seen that she was more than just a friend?

It was in the quiet hours of the night, as the storm began to wane, that Y/N finally stirred. Her eyelids fluttered, and a soft moan escaped her lips. Anthony, who had been dozing fitfully by her side, jerked awake, his heart leaping with hope.

“Y/N?” he whispered, his voice trembling. “Can you hear me?”

Her eyes opened slowly, focusing on his face. “Anthony?” she murmured, her voice weak.

Relief and joy surged through him, and tears filled his eyes. “Oh, thank God,” he breathed. “You’re awake. You’re going to be okay.”

Y/N’s brow furrowed slightly as she took in his tear-streaked face. “What happened?”

“You fell from your horse,” he explained, his voice thick with emotion. “I found you in the clearing. I thought… I thought I’d lost you.”

Tears of his own began to fall as he spoke, the weight of his fear and relief overwhelming him. “I was so scared, Y/N. I’ve never been so scared in my life.”

She squeezed his hand weakly, offering a small, reassuring smile. “I’m here, Anthony. I’m okay.”

In that moment, Anthony knew he couldn’t hold back any longer. The realization that he could have lost her, that he had almost missed his chance, was too much to bear. “Y/N, there’s something I need to tell you,” he said, his voice raw with emotion. “I’ve been such a fool. I’ve been blind to what’s been right in front of me all these years.”

She looked at him, her eyes filled with curiosity and concern. “What is it, Anthony?”

“I love you, Y/N,” he confessed, his voice breaking. “I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember. But I was too stubborn, too scared to admit it. Finding you today, seeing you like that… it made me realize how much you mean to me. I can’t lose you. I don’t want to live without you.”

Tears welled in Y/N’s eyes as she listened to his heartfelt confession. “Oh, Anthony,” she whispered. “I’ve loved you too. I’ve been waiting for you to see it, to understand that my heart has always belonged to you.”

The weight of their unspoken feelings hung in the air between them. Anthony leaned forward, gently brushing his lips against hers in a tender kiss. It was a kiss filled with all the love and emotion that had been building for years, a kiss that promised a future together.

When they finally pulled apart, Anthony rested his forehead against hers, tears of relief and joy mingling with hers. “We’ll get through this together,” he whispered. “I’ll take care of you, Y/N. I promise.”

And in that moment, as the storm gave way to a peaceful dawn, Anthony and Y/N knew that their love was strong enough to weather any storm. Their journey had been filled with twists and turns, but they had found their way to each other at last, their hearts and lives intertwined forever.

[bbkoolkatz]

pairing: barbarian prince! katsuki bakugo x fem! reader.

content warnings: FEMALE READER! violence and injuries, cultural discrimination, prejudice, xenophobia, social ostracism toward the protagonist (you), intense conflict, gender dynamics, emotional distress, animal death, harsh environments, power struggles, language barriers. [lemme know if I forgot something]

sorry if this seems scattered. it was written when I got time and I barely had any during the past two days ╥﹏╥

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 1 ~ 𝕴 𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖇𝖊𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖊 𝕸𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗! 4.1k words

prologue!

your world got significantly smaller, restricted behind these stone walls. you sat on the edge of the window of your new chambers, staring out at the vast, jagged landscapes that surrounded you, awaiting your husband's daily visit.

for these past few days, everytime katsuki came to see you, he was covered in soot, sweat, or this amazingly, deliciously, sweet aroma. and you wondered which of them he'd come with today.

the biting chill of the air that graced your skin gave you goosebumps, as you shivered, taking a frigid breath in, "ragna," you murmur, turning to the tall, sturdy woman who stood silently by the doorway.

she stepped forward, expression neutral as ever. she'd been a constant presence since your arrival, being the only one capable of bridging the gap between you and this new world. "yes?" she answered, waiting for what comes next.

"can you tell me about your people?" you hesitated a bit, "i want to understand." patting the cold stone next you.

ragna's expression softened slightly, and she moved closer, making herself comfortable, "of course, my lady," she smiled, "what do you wish to know?"

you gestured vaguely to the walls around you, "everything. how things work. the customs. start anywhere."

her lips twitched, holding back her eager grin, "as you can see, my lady, our clan is nothing like your kingdom," she started, guiding your head to look out the window again and down to where the people were hard at worked in their fields, and moving about with logs on their shoulders, "here, our women hold power. they are life and death."

your brows knitted together at her word phrasing, "how so?"

ragna's voice grew steadier, carrying a note of pride as she spoke of her people, "in your land, men rule because they are stronger. here, women rule because they create. the clan mother is the heart of the people. she births the warriors, guides their steps, and ensures the clan's survival. she is the one who holds the true power."

"she is our leader. a fierce woman, strong and wise." her hands form fists subconsciously, "the men may wield their axes, but it is she who determines where and when they fall. she is not to be taken lightly."

you leaned back, feeling every bump of stone bound together against you, processing everything she said. "this is why they seem so different from my people?"

ragna nodded, "men may sacrifice their children for their people, but women sacrifice everything for their children." your thoughts briefly flashed back to your father... "your arrival disrupts the balance, my lady. some believe you weaken us. others fear change. you are our future." bringing a hand forward to hold yours.

"do they hate me?" you blurted out, fiddling with your fingers as you looked up to the conflicted look that overtook ragna's face.

she hesitated, thinking carefully, "some fear you. others... yes, they do hate you. they see you as weak." she didn't lie, if they could they'd iliminate the weakness on the spot.

your chest tightened, but you straightened your posture, brushing it off. "they too were once weak." you brought your stare up to her's, "and just as they grew stronger, so will i."

before ragna could reply, heavy footsteps echoed in the hall, and both your heads quickly snapped toward the door. katsuki entered, his broad frame making your heart race as your eyes land on him, his presence thickening the atmosphere.

his red hot glare, sharp and unyielding, flicked between you then ragna, and back you, all the way down to your trinket covered ankles that jingle as you walk.

his beefy arms squish you into his chest—a custom you introduced him to as a way of greeting you instead of awkwardly standing in front of you for 20 minutes— and you couldn't help the stupid smile that crawled it's way onto your face, "hvat eru þeir að segja?" katsuki rasped, his tone curt and seemingly straight to the point. ragna stood up, and rattled out a bunch of incoherent words and sentences and your eyes darted up between them, back and forth.

katsuki's jaw clenched, his gaze shifting back down to you. "ekki skiptir máli hvað þeir hugsa," he snapped, turning away. though you didn't understand his words, his displeasure was clear.

ragna's translation was quiet, her attention coming back to you, "he says it doesn't matter what they think."

you rose to your feet, immediately connecting the dots—ragna ratted your doubts out...— you lift your chin to look up at him, "it does matter. if they hate me, it's only a matter of time before they act on it." and ragna's voice echoed behind yours.

katsuki's lip twitched in frustration, but he said nothing. instead, he rested a hefty palm on your head, leaving behind a tense silence that settled heavily in the room.

later that day, katsuki returned to your room, plopping—what you think—is a dead boar, down in front of you and he kneeled beside it. you immediately look at ragna for help. "it's for making you sad you earlier." she giggled, resting a hand on her belly.

"sad? i wasn't- oh..." you too started giggling as you realized, "will he do this everytime i get upset?" you chuckled, cradling his head in the soft cushions of your chest, trying your best to hold in your laugh as she nodded. "i'd like for you to show me your village, instead of a dead animal, katsuki." and ragna's voice followed yours.

and finally, he brought you out of the stronghold for the first time since your arrival, the steady rhythm of his boots, leaving heavy crunches in the gravel as he walked beside you, and ragna trailed a little ways behind. you could feel her eyes burning the back of your head with every step you take...

your skin tightened, perking your nipples under the thin cotton draping your body, as the wind prickled your skin, sending a violent shiver down your entire body. katsuki shrugged his fur cloak off and threw it on you, sending you in a stumble with the force.

"hæ!" he yelled, grabbing your arm, "i'm okay, i'm okay," you giggled, looking up at him, "afsökun," he roughly dusted you off. ragna had rushed to you but with a simple raise of your hand she stopped short.

"thakka thyer," you smiled at him, only to grin wider when you saw the shocked look on his face at the almost familiar sounds that graced his ears. "shall we?" you hug his cloak closer as you continue down the dirt paths that lead into the village, tucked into the valley where the stronghold stood tall against the horizon.

the houses were made of timber and stone, thick roofs sloping against the cold, with the distant hum of activity filling the air. you had never seen a place like this—untamed, rough, and yet strangely beautiful in its own way. the land, harsh and unforgiving, matched the people. you had heard stories of their legendary strength, their ability to overthrow kings and destroy rulers. they were known as conquerors, fierce and untouchable, but now, walking through their village, you see a different side.

the first thing that struck you was the children. in your kingdom, children were raised in luxury and comfort, but here they played in the dirt, their faces smeared with earth and joy. the laughter that filled the air was light, carefree, but it wasn't the kind of joy you were accustomed to. it was raw, unrestrained, and full of life.

a little girl with wild hair and a smudge of dirt on her cheek approached you, holding out a small wooden doll. she spoke in their tongue, too fast for you to try to understand, her wide eyes full of hope.

ragna bent down, translating with a smile, "she says you're very beautiful, that she's never seen someone like you before."

you laughed softly, reaching out to take the doll, the weight of it simple, yet comforting. "thakka thyer," you murmured, hoping you said it right, because katsuki looked at you like you were blabbing nonsense when you said it to him...

the little girl beamed, rushing off to join the other children. you couldn't help but watch her go, her carefree spirit so unlike anything you had known. these children, these villagers— had never been pampered. they never had the luxury you grew up with, and yet, they had things you didn't.

as you walked further into the heart of the village, you saw a group of women working together to prepare food—big cauldrons over roaring fires, knives slicing through meat with practiced ease.

their eyes flicked to you briefly in curiosity. it seems this was their first time seeing a someone as small as you. though their stares started to feel more and more judgemental the longer they looked...

a small group of older men sat nearby, their muscles thick and solid, but their hands were not gripping axes. instead, they were working leather, stitching it together with slow, deliberate motions. they were crafting, mending, tending to what was necessary for survival.

it was a sight that shocked you, the great warriors who were known for their brutality now focused on such delicate, mundane work. you had imagined them only as conquerors, towering giants, but here they were, doing what needed to be done for the survival of their people.

you glanced at katsuki, his expression unreadable as he walked beside you, taking in his features that glowed in the sunset. he looked like the rest of them—stoic, hard, and powerful.

ragna, ever the silent observer, noted the look on your face. "is it so different from what you imagined? my lady," she leaned to whisper.

you nodded slowly, taking in the sight of the men working alongside the women, "they're strong," you murmured, "but also... gentle, in ways i didn't expect."

ragna smiled, "that is the balance of our people. every piece is needed. every role is vital." the softness of her expression a stark contrast to the roughness of her surroundings.

as you walked further, you passed the blacksmith's forge, the rhythmic pounding of a hammer against metal ringing in the air. you had seen blacksmiths at work before, but the sheer power of the men and women here was something else. their muscles flexed with each strike, their movements coordinated, and their fire-forged weapons were some of the finest you had ever seen. the blacksmiths, covered in soot and sweat, didn't look up as you passed, their focus unwavering.

you caught sight of an older woman sitting on a bench near the edge of the village, her back hunched but her gaze fierce. her hands were gnarled from years of labor, but she sat with an air of quiet authority, watching the village with eyes that had seen more than most. you felt a sudden urge to approach her, you wanted to know what it was like to live a life so full of struggle, of strength, and survival. you needed to ask.

but katsuki's voice broke your thoughts. "vér skyldum fara aptr." he said, his tone sharp,—almost a warning or perhaps? or just a desire to keep you close?

you nodded, but before turning to head back, you gave the old lady one last glance, before grabbing on to your husband's arm.

-

nightfall came quickly, and the air was biting as the sun descended behind the jagged mountains. ragna was at your side, her presence comforting, though the silence between you was palpable. neither of you spoke as you approached the large wooden doors of the council hall, guarded by two massive warriors. their eyes flicked to you, but they didn't move. there was no hostility in their gaze, but the wariness remained, a reminder of how much you still had to prove...

one of the guards nodded at ragna as she spoke briefly in their language. the doors creaked open, revealing the vast room inside—a dimly lit chamber lined with long tables where the most powerful figures of the clan gathered. the air was thick with the scent of stone, fire, and old wood. the council members were already seated, their faces solemn and stern as they discussed matters that shaped the future of their people.

you couldn't help but feel the weight of all their eyes on you, most didn't understand you and didn't care to. you were katsuki's wife, a foreigner, an outsider—and that was all they saw. ragna whispered at your side, "do not be afraid. you are here to learn, my lady."

with a deep breath, you nodded, chin lifting in quiet defiance. no matter how much they resented your presence, you would stand your ground. you weren't just a pawn in their game—at least, not anymore.

the high table at the front of the room was where katsuki sat, his back straight and posture commanding. his eyes flicked to you as you made your way toward the empty seat beside him. the others at the table were much older, faces lined with experience, each one dressed in the heavy furs and iron of their clan, exuding authority and strength. katuki's mother, clan mother, was present as well, seated at the head of the table. her fierce gaze swept over you as you sat, unbothered by your arrival but no less critical.

"sittu hér," katsuki muttered in his native tongue, his voice low and tight, barely above a growl. though his words weren't exactly warm, there was something almost comforting in the gruff tone.

ragna translated softly, in your ear. "he said, sit here."

you nodded to him, your eyes meeting his for a moment before you focused on the other members of the council. you felt every set of eyes on you as if they were all waiting for you to make a mistake, to stumble.

the clan mother spoke, her voice booming, though her words were foreign to you. it was ragna who translated once again. "we have gathered to discuss the future of the clan. there are whispers among our people that threaten our recent unity, and we must decide how we will face these challenges."

your breath caught in your throat at the translation. you knew there were whispers, rumors— but hearing it spoken aloud in such a cold, clinical manner made it finally feel real. you glanced at katsuki, but he gave no sign that he was bothered by the news. his gaze was unwavering and his posture still.

"torvok's faction grows restless," one of the councilmen said, his voice deep and gravelly, though you could sense the unease in his tone. his thick beard seemed to be the only soft feature of his face, as his eyes were sharp, calculating. "they say the blood of our people is being tainted by this foreign bride."

the words stung, though you refused to show it. instead, you kept your chin lifted and your gaze unwavering, even as the room seemed to close in around you.

the clan mother's voice broke through again, sharp and clear. "i am not blind to the whispers. torvok and his followers believe that they can stir unrest, but they will not succeed. our future is bound by the strength of our warriors, but also by the strength of our alliances. the marriage to the princess was not made lightly. it was done for the good of the clan, for the survival of our people."

katsuki's eyes flicked to you briefly, the tension between the two of you unspoken. he was angry, not at you, at those who dared to question his strength and your place in the clan.

"the alliance between our peoples is the only way forward," another councilman spoke, his voice harsh but carrying a trace of concern. "if torvok and his followers believe the princess is weak-"

"gæt þín tungu. þú munt eigi mæla svá um konu mína aftur." katsuki slammed his fist onto the table, his voice echoing through the chamber.

ragna's translation was swift, "he says, you will show respect." she swallowed the dryness in her throat and you passed her your goblet of spring water, and she reluctantly accepted.

the council members exchanged uneasy glances, but none spoke further. the clan mother observed the exchange quietly before speaking again. "we will deal with torvok's rebellion. it will not disrupt the balance of this clan. the princess will learn the ways of our people, and she will prove her strength."

her gaze shifted to you, calculating but not unkind, the weight of her approval—or disapproval—hanging in the air. "þú munt sýna þeim hve sterkur þú í raun ert."

"she says, you will show your true strength to the people." you nodded, your posture straight and unwavering.

☆.｡.:*❀.｡.:*☆

the next day when evening came, a feast was held in the great hall. the smell of roasted meat filled your nostrils and the crackle of firewood greeted your ears, with the low hum of conversations spoken in harsh, guttural tones. you sat beside katsuki, your presence a beacon of contrast amidst the towering figures of the barbarian clan.

you felt their eyes, sharp and suspicious, cutting through your skin like shards of ice. but you kept your gaze level and expression neutral, even as your pulse quickened.

"ragna," you whispered, leaning toward the woman beside you, "are they always this... tense?"

ragna's reply was cautious, as she too had her suspicions, "they are watching... waiting for something..."

you nodded, fingers gripping the edge of your goblet as you brought it up to your lips.

suddenly, a crash echoed through the hall, drawing all eyes to the far side of the room. a figure, cloaked in shadow, leapt forward, a blade glinting in the firelight.

your breath hitched as the assassin lunged forward, and before you could react, katsuki was on his feet, his movements swift and precise. he intercepted the attacker with a growl that reverberated throughout the hall.

"ek mun drepa þig fyrir þetta!" katsuki snarled, his voice a thunderclap of rage.

the assassin struggled, but katsuki's strength was overwhelming. he slammed the man onto the floor, the blade skittering out of reach.

ragna translated softly, "he says he'll kill him for this." leaning down to your ear.

"katsuki," you called, a soft voice cutting through the chaos. he paused, his eyes burning as they met yours.

"bring him to me," you ordered firmly, walking out from behind your table. ragna's translation was immediate, and for a moment, katsuki hesitated. then, with a grunt of annoyance, he dragged the attacker toward you.

the hall fell silent as you stepped forward, your small frame dwarfed by the imposing figures surrounding you. your eyes swept over the room, locking briefly with those who dared to look your way.

"if you think me unworthy of becoming clan mother, then feel free to challenge me." you announced, "do not sneak or cower to take my life." you pick the assassin's dagger up, admiring the shine it gave with the firelight.

ragna translated each word, her voice carrying them with the same fierce determination.

"what is your name?" you asked, looking down at the struggling figure under your husband's strong arms and he mumbles something while laughing, that makes katsuki dig his knee into his spine even more, "my lady, i cannot translate what he said..."

"you cannot?" you seethed, "or you will not?" turning to face a flustered ragna... "very well."

"raise him to his knees," you spat, watching every muscle flex as your husband obeyed. blood trickled from the corner of the assassin's mouth, his defiance still burning in his eyes despite katsuki's unrelenting grip on his shoulder.

your heart was racing, but you forced your voice to remain steady, "do you have a family?" your foreign words sharp and clipped ringing through the hall. ragna, standing by your side, quickly translated. and his head shot up, giving you a good look of his entire face.

he then spat on the ground near your bare feet, muttering something in his language. katsuki snarled, his hand tightening on the man's shoulder, forcing him lower.

"he refuses to answer," ragna said softly.

"so he does have a family..." you grinned, rubbing the handle of the well crafted dagger. "what is your name?" you asked, tilting your head as you burned the image of his face in your head. short black hair stuck to his forehead as he hugged and turned his head away.

"he refuses to answer that as well, my lady..."

you took a breath in, "it seems he is not proud of his actions. a man who hides his name, does not deserve the dignity of forgiveness."

the rest of the clan murmur at your boldness, their guttural voices rising and falling in the background. your husband's usually sharp gaze now fell soft, with a mixture of surprise and intrigue glinting in his eyes.

"tell them this," you turned to ragna, "this man attempted to end my life, not out of bravery but out of fear—fear of change, fear of the unknown." you looked down at him in pity, trying to think of a suitable punishment. "such fear has no place here."

ragna translated, steadily carrying the weight of your words.

"i will not demand his life," you continued, your voice ringing clear. "but he must face the consequences of his actions." you paused again, thinking. "let him carry a mark that will remind him, and everyone here, of his cowardice."

the murmurs grew louder, rippling through the gathered barbarians.

"what... mark?" ragna asked quietly, her brow furrowing in concern.

"hmm... i'm not sure," you pat your chin with the dagger in thought, "oh! i've got it!" you clap, "burn the mark of a coward into his left cheek for all to see." you clasp your hands in content, a bitter smile itching it's way across your lips.

ragna hesitated, her lips parting as though to argue, but katsuki spoke first, his voice low and guttural.

"bróðir," katsuki barked, gesturing toward one of the guards nearby, he stepped forward, his expression grim as he produced a branding iron. the clan fell silent, the air thick with tension.

you stepped aside, allowing the guard to heat the iron in the nearby fire and you turned to the gathered clan, voice strong in your chest, "let this be a warning to all who think to act against me. i am not a woman to be underestimated." something came over you, you couldn't hold back your words... "i am your future clan mother, and i will protect what is mine."

when the iron was ready, the guard approached the assassin, who now struggled against katsuki's hold, his defiance finally giving way to fear. katsuki held him steady, his jaw tight as the iron was pressed against the man's skin.

his screams tore through the hall, echoing off the stone walls. the scent of burning flesh filled the air, and the mark—a simple, sharp rune symbolizing cowardice—was left seared into the flesh of the man's cheek.

"this is mercy," you said firmly, "remember it."

katsuki released the attacker, who crumpled to the ground, clutching his face. katsuki's sharp eyes swept over the gathered crowd before he barked a command, sending the guards to drag the branded man away.

the hall remained silent, every pair of eyes now fixed on you as your pulse thundered in your ears, but you held your ground with your chin raised high.

katsuki stepped beside you his presence imposing and protective. he said nothing, but his gaze lingered on you for a moment longer than necessary.

"i will say it again for those who did not hear me the first time." you paused, letting ragna finish her translation, "if you think me unworthy, you are welcome to challenge me." gesturing to yourself, "but know this, i will not fall easily."

"i will protect my people everything i have." you promised, "ég mun verða móðir!" and they exchanged shocked looks, at the familiar words rolling off your tongue.

»»————> 𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖘𝖑𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘 <————««

"hvat eru þeir að segja?" - what are they saying?

"ekki skiptir máli hvað þeir hugsa." - it doesn’t matter what they think.

"hæ" - hey! or oi!

"afsökun" - apologies

"þakka þér" pronounced "thakka thyer" - thank you. [it's written in pronunciation form when reader speaks 'cause she's learning.]

"vér skyldum fara aptr." - we should head back.

"gæt þín tungu. þú munt eigi mæla svá um konu mína aftur" - watch yourself. you will not speak of my wife in such a way again.

"þú munt sýna þeim hve sterkur þú í raun ert" - you'll show them how strong you really are.

"ek mun drepa þig fyrir þetta!" - i'll kill you for this!

"bróðir" - brother [because katsuki's mother is clan mother, he referred to the guard as brother.]

"ég mun verða móðir!" - i will become mother

if you already asked to be in the tag list and you're not there then please check your settings and fix it accordingly or ensure that you have at least one post on your blog and ask again.

»»————> 𝖙𝖆𝖌 𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙!

@twoplayergaymers @ch3rryjampi3 @lxdystxrdustt @selfishgucci @sleepyfxce @depressed-waffle-time @abinformyobsessions @kodzubaby @cottagedumpling @msjaeger @condy-wants-a-cookie @who-xo @naiomiwinchester @your-mum3000 @weebperson2003 @koigeidi @lanadelgarf @misaki-kira8 @lightsinmycity

mlist!

[kaznejis]

Your opal eyes are all I wish to see- Erik Lehnsherr x Reader

Professor Erik Lehnsherr was an enigma, it was undeniable to anyone who crossed his path. He emanated a magnificent presence; intelligence, authority, power. But, he was also kind, when he wanted to be. Reverent smiles when a student offered an insightful point during one of his seminars, a chuckle when a hint of true personality slipped out during their answer, a smirk when the debate prose grew heated.  A true beacon of trust, solemn kindness to all of his students; but, sometimes, in the darkest depths of the night, tucked safely into the comforts of your duvet- you felt that part of him reserved an extra sense of kindness for you. 

A/N: Hi! Thanks for reading, I (hopefully) intend to make this into a series of stand-alone but affiliated oneshots. This one can act as a form of 'introduction' to this series.

*NOTE* You ARE 18+ in this, just some innocentish, legal teacher x student happenings. If my renowned university allows it, then I guess Xavier's school would too.

Read it on AO3! / Word Count: 4.6k / Series masterlist

Professor Erik Lehnsherr was an enigma, it was undeniable to anyone who crossed his path. He emanated a magnificent presence; intelligence, authority, power. But, he was also kind, when he wanted to be. Reverent smiles when a student offered an insightful point during one of his seminars, a chuckle when a hint of true personality slipped out during their answer, a smirk when the debate prose grew heated. 

A true beacon of trust, solemn kindness to all of his students; but, sometimes, in the darkest depths of the night, tucked safely into the comforts of your duvet- you felt that part of him reserved an extra sense of kindness for you. 

It was small at first, minor episodic moments that could have been passed off as nothing. A nod of gratitude at a correct answer, a click of thumbs when something you noted reminded him of a point, a smile as you approached him with a question after class. He had been your saving grace in the bleak sadness of those first days at the school- initially you had viewed the ‘Gifted School’ as your punishment, punishment for the twisting of cells within your body and soul; for the inherent iniquitous poison that resided upon the tips of your fingers and the tears that dripped from your eyes. At the flicker of a breath you could force a being across the bridge between living and death; make the decision for them, shove their teetering body upon the ledge their soul balanced upon. It had been too much, too much power. You had been too much of a burden to your family back home, what’s to say you weren’t one here? 

Despite those dark, dragging days; months followed your enrolment upon the school and gradually, you grew comfortable and found home in the place you had once seen as a finale to any semblance of normal life, an eternal imprisonment. So, as you came to see the school as home; you grew comfortable with the teacher that graced the presence of your studies three days per week: Monday, Wednesday and Friday. 

His methods of teaching were interesting- he tended to treat his students more as ‘friends’; seeing as though he opted to teach the older students over the sniffling children of the school, he saw no means for punishment or lecturing- instead opting to have what he liked to call an ‘academic discussion’. His classroom was an open, equal playing field for all- a chance to truly be understood by an, arguably, more unorthodox mutant; as compared to Professor Xavier or McCoy. Most days he would grace the classroom’s presence donning his selected dark turtle neck of the day, similarly dark chinos and his trusted, sharp lace-up loafers. 

You spent many-a-day looking forward to his sharp, attractive outfit of the day. 

On the days where you didn’t have a class with him, you prayed, hoped, begged that you would pass him at some point in the day; book yourself at least a fleeting smile into his obviously busy schedule. Some days he would provide you with just that, a genuine smile and a passing question on how you were finding his assigned reading; sometimes you would even be able to develop that into a conversation. Some days, you would be unlucky; your paths simply unfated to align on that specific day. But, some days, you do pass him; your heart picking up speed as you near him in the hallway- on those days, in those unlucky moments, he would simply pass right by you; not even sparing you a fleeting second. Leaving a grating emptiness within your stomach. It was safe to say, those successful meetings had become everything. Your own driving force to make yourself presentable on the days where you weren’t guaranteed to see him, an excuse to leave your room on the days where nightmares blurred the edges of your vision and infected the depths of your twisted soul. 

It was a Friday when it truly started, transcended past your lone imagination and your regretful dreams, past the moans and pants of Erik into the depths of your pillow beneath the blanket of night, your own hand sneaking between your thighs. It had been the average Friday at first- breakfast with Jean, mutant politics with Professor Xavier at 9, and then at 10:30: mutant history with Professor Lehnsherr. 

It had been warm- a soothing, blurring comfort laying upon the grounds of the school; there was a bonfire planned for that night, a signal to the beginning of Summer, the break from classes that would be due to come. You had practically bounced into Erik’s classroom; excitement blurring any sense of formality as you failed to wipe the grin from your face- he turned to you as you entered, pausing his conversation with a student already mobile at their desk; a confused smile instantly graced his features, his eyebrow raising in amusement. 

“Morning Y/N.” Professor Lehnsherr, unlike his counterparts, only used first names with his students- even playing field, and all. 

“Morning Professor Lehnsherr.”

To that he instantly chastised you, “How many times have I told this class that you can just call me Erik? I beg Y/N, what do you have against my god given name?” 

You shrugged, grinning earnestly as you rifled through your backpack, today was one of the good days, “Nothing, nothing at all Prof- Erik.” He chuckled at your correction, hands on his hips as he turned fully towards you now- dismissing the student he had been talking to entirely, but presumably unintentionally. 

“Well, what’s gotten you so chipper today, Y/N?” 

“Oh!” You grinned wholeheartedly towards him, practically purring at the attention he was granting you, “It’s the summer bonfire tonight, of course.” 

“The night where Y/N gets absolutely wasted with no remorse, she means.” Jean tittered beside you, winking at you as your face instantly bloomed with heat. You couldn’t even be angry at her in that moment, because the laugh that bloomed from Erik’s chest made your own embarrassment all worth it. 

“Well sounds like you all have a good night ahead of you.” He was leaned against his desk now, boundless legs crossed at the knee and hair falling upon his forehead as he grinned to himself. 

“Will you be there, Erik?” You questioned tentatively, breaking the urge to suck your lip between your teeth; a desperate attempt to silence the leaking of your own secrets in his mere presence. 

Raising his eyes to you, Erik seemed to watch you for a moment; his eyes unreadable and face expressionless as he lounged there, every length of his stature going still. Biting your tongue, you could barely breathe; silently lavishing in his gaze as your heartbeat thundered in your ears- your surrounding classmates, Jean- all succumbing to a blur as you watched each other; two beasts stricken in the wild, the string connecting your mind to his pulled taut; similar in more ways you could ever know. After what felt like forever, eternity, mere seconds- he rose, smoothed a hand over his slicked-back hair and straightened his posture, “We’ll see.” 

And at that, the moment ended, he turned away entirely- scratching his worn-down chalk against the blackboard as he began his lesson; the only part of him available to you was the harsh lines of his back as you regained your ability to breath, digging crescent moons into the skin of your thigh as the surrounding classroom came back to you in waves. Scrambling to open your book and prepare your quill- you used the familiar ministrations as a chance to even your breaths, preparing for the inevitable event of him turning back towards the classroom, turning back towards you. 

As you, finally, began to catch up with his words and write your notes- Jean’s chair scratched against the floor beside you as she leant towards you, her voice that followed was lower than a whisper, intentionally audible only to you, “What the hell was that?” 

She had noticed it too. Gulping, you shook your head, barely raising your eyes from the book  before you, “I have no idea.” 

The remainder of his lesson passed in a blur, the ache between your legs and the confusion filling your chest all too noticeable as you failed to truly focus on the lesson before you. Your lack of focus meant you had specifically been unable to understand the essay prompt Erik had presented to the class- your sudden silence was almost deafening, the other students very obviously used to you  picking up the slack in discussion as you would usually grasp the opportunity of any attention Erik would spare you. 

You made the rash decision to approach Erik at the end of class, your own strive for academic success stubbornly drowning your own nerves towards him. As the other students filtered from the classroom, you diverged from Jean with a promise to see her at the party later; to which she could only reply with a pointed grimace towards Erik. Erik, who had promptly lowered himself to the seat at his desk, his gaze laser-focused upon a stack of papers before him; his gaze did not rise as you approached.

Clearing your throat, you teetered awkwardly beside him, your fingers a constant twitch at your sides, “Erik, I was wondering-” 

“Sorry Y/N, I can’t help you today- I have an obligation immediately after this.” Oh.

You blustered for a moment, your nerves and twirling fingers reaching a screeching halt as he effectively cut you off. Oh. The twining line that you believed existed between the two of you instantly snapped, the wretched, torn fibres hanging limply at his rejection. Blinking, you could only stare as he resolutely refused to look at you; his fingers lay upon his lips, his index finger rubbing against the chapped, pink skin.

He seemed almost bored by your presence. 

At that thought, you made your exit, and did it hastily. Without even sparing him another word, you backed out of the classroom; your heart stuttering and knees quivering- the walk to your room was agonising, the eyes of students and teachers alike followed your harried figure; confusion and empathy following your form as you will yourself to just make it to your room, just make it to the safety of a closed door. 

As the door slammed behind you, you could only breath; confusion and hurt swirling within the dregs of your stomach as you heaved brokenly. Erik had never dismissed you like that; had never talked to you like that. What had you done to deserve that? Had your question of whether he would be attending the bonfire offended him? The mere thought of associating himself with a gaggle of students; immature, unaware, uninteresting students. You realised, that was all you were to him. As he had been your saving grace, the aid that motivated you to climb from your bed in the mornings; you had been nothing but apart of his job, a hindrance to his time as you only extended the time he had to endure your presence- all in your plight to force yourself upon him. Horror replaced the confusion then- the realisation that you had been nothing but an embarrassment to yourself in his presence- his esteemed, intelligent presence. 

You vowed, there and then, that you would leave him alone- contribute nothing more than what was necessary, ignore him in the hallways, direct any questions you had to your other professors. It was for his benefit more than anything, you wanted to garner nothing but a positive impression upon him. 

The remainder of daylight saw you sulking beneath your duvet; scribbles adorning your diary as you lamented your feelings for Erik, chastised your own stupidity; the happiness that had graced your presence that morning didn’t allow even the slightest linger. As evening dawned and as the dining hour passed; your door suddenly flung open, Jean at its helm; a plate of tray of food in her hand and a displeased impression upon her face. 

“Y/N! You’re going to miss dinner.” She allowed herself entrance to the room, placing the tray upon your bedside and throwing the covers from your sulking form, “You know you can’t drink on an empty stomach, eat.” 

Admittedly, the smell of the delicious meal effectively coaxed you from your dwelling; instantly, to Jean’s chagrin, you began to eat with the manners of a starving wolf, your body becoming accustomed to the feeling of hunger that had been turning your stomach for hours, “Thanks, Jean.” Stopping your tirade, you allowed her a smile; to which she instantly raised an eyebrow at how pathetic it was.

“Hey,” Frowning, she joined you upon the mattress, a hand moving to lay against your back, “What’s got you so down?” 

Placing your fork down, you huffed; a heavy exhale falling from your nostrils as you stared resolutely down at your plate, “I’m such an idiot.” 

“What? Why-” 

“Professor Lehnsherr; I tried to approach him after class today and he dismissed me completely… Oh Jean I’m such an idiot-” 

“Y/N, you’re not an idiot- why would he do that? He’s always up to have a chat after class with anyone, but especially you.” 

You paused, lowering your face into your hands; the comfort of Jean’s hand rubbing circles upon your back, coaxing your feelings forward, “I think I’ve made him uncomfortable.” 

“Uncomfortable?” 

Nodding, you turned to her then, a frown marring your features as you held back your own tears, “You know, my crush on him- I think I’ve gone too far, he feels that he can’t even speak to me anymore.” 

You could only watch in shock as Jean laughed at that, a grin lining her features as she raised an eyebrow incredulously, “Y/N, he’s a grown man and a teacher! If he was uncomfortable I’m sure he would do more than just ignore you.” Jean shrugged, a lopsided smile upon her face, “Maybe he was just having an off day- remember how weird he was at the start of today’s class?” 

You nodded, a true smile finally adorning your features, “Maybe,” You sniffled, “Well- this just provides all the more excuse to get drunk tonight.” 

“And, all the more excuse to put a pretty dress on to take your mind off of Professor Lehnsherr.” She practically sang his name, giggling as you rolled your eyes before rising, offering you her hands and dragging you towards the hellscape that was your wardrobe.

The ceremonious activities began with a bang that night, literally- Professor McCoy having added too much gasoline to the bonfire’s mass, causing the first lick of fire to essentially skyrocket upwards; causing screams of genuine terror to erupt. Howling with laughter, you and Jean had stumbled towards the drinks table- each pouring yourself a cup of punch before discreetly adding vodka, from Jean’s own trusty flask, into each of your cups. 

“To getting over crushes,” Jean grinned, though you didn’t miss the way her gaze drifted towards Scott, “Cheers!” 

“Cheers!” You crashed your cup against hers, giggling obnoxiously as some spilled from hers- only to gag upon your first sip of the apparent poison within your cup, “Jean! How much did you put in here?” 

She shrugged, a cheeky grin painting her features as she sashayed her hips to the music that had began, all the while moving backwards towards the bonfire and the crowd beginning to form. Shaking your head, you followed her; greeting your friends and fellow students as you entered the crowd- pushing forward before finding the perfect spot directly in front of the fire. You had the perfect view of the opposite side; it seems that the school’s faculty had formed their own group towards the edge of the student-crowd, mingling and laughing over bottles of beer respectively. You didn’t pay much mind towards others in the crowd as you danced and drank and laughed with Jean. That was until, a commotion erupted from the professor’s crowd as a figure joined them. 

To your shock, it was Erik. Erik, dressed in an unbuttoned plaid shirt and black jeans to match the undershirt hugging his chest; his sleeves were rolled up to the elbow. The usual pomade that held his hair in place had been forgone in favour of his natural waves; a lone strand of longer hair protruding upon his forehead as he accepted a drink from Professor Xavier, a genuine grin directed towards his friend. You could do nothing but stare, frozen in place as your cup hung limply in your palm. He turned then, his gaze scanning past the campfire, towards the crowd you stood at the forefront of; his search allowed you the split-second of grace to look away, turning hastily towards Jean as you grabbed her hands. “We should refill our drinks.” Jean agreed readily, pulling you out of the crowd, away from Erik’s waiting gaze. 

At the mere reminder of Erik, his existence- the way he had dismissed you that morning; the drinks began to flow freely. Cup after cup was downed as you lost any care for the way others were seeing you- finally, truly, you were letting go, foregoing the emotional baggage that lay upon your shoulders just for one night. 

It was well past midnight as you wandered away from the bonfire, bored of watching Jean make out with Scott, “Congratulations.” You grumbled to yourself as you shoved your way through the overgrowth, the trees casting foreboding shadows upon your vision as you trampled over stray branches. After a minute of walking, you stumbled upon an old shed; the building’s wretched curves and rotting wood illuminated beneath the moon as you stood before it. Just as you were about to turn, return to the safety of the campfire; a rustling sounded on the other side of the building. Curiosity peaked your mind as you peered round the rise, only for shock to bridle them simultaneously as your gaze fell upon Erik, sat upon the steps in front of the building, an unlit cigarette poised between his fingers. He looked up instantly upon the sound of your unconcealable gasp. 

“Oh-” You breathed, shocked at the sight of him, “I’m sorry, I’ll just-” 

“You’ve caught me,” He huffed, holding his hands up- a willing criminal succumbing to their crime, his cigarette still hung limp between his fingers, “I’ve been caught.”

Your drunken conscience only allowed for a broken giggle to form from your mouth, for your knees to tremble and your feet to stumble in his direction. He raised an eyebrow at you, mirth painting his smirk as he looked you up and down unashamedly. You could only watch as he fumbled around in his jean pocket for a moment before retrieving a lighter; turning it in his hand- once, twice; before placing the cigarette between his lips and lighting it. The blunt, ember end of the cigarette illuminated his face in the darkness; the bustle of the bonfire long behind you in the shadows of the building he sat beside- he took a prolonged drag of the cigarette then, the smoke clouding your nostrils as he exhaled. 

Chuckling, he turned towards you, the cigarette balanced upon his lips and reducing his voice to a blabbering murmur, “Don’t smoke, Y/N, nasty habit to get rid of.” You could only nod; mystified by the drink and the smoke and the heed of his gaze, his heavy eyelids and messy hair, his presence rendering you silent, mute as you could only stare right back at him. 

Your heartbeat only skyrocketed as he patted the step beside him, beckoning you over with a tilt of his head; a puff of smoke abrogating from his mouth as he did so. You complied, discreetly wiping the sweat from your hands upon your knees as you lowered yourself beside him, allowing him a polite smile as you curled your arms around the bare skin of your shins. You were dangerously close, the harsh scent of cigarette smoke and cologne lost to the administrations of the day, invading your senses- you could only breathe it in, breathe in the moment, the proximity of his form. You didn’t know what to say, what to do- you only knew the Erik that wore restricting turtle necks and had perfectly slicked back hair; not plaid shirts and battered nikes’. It seemed that he was too aware of this, opting to smoke his cigarette silently beside you, allowing you your own time to process this interaction. 

Finally, you found your voice; the sound of it a mere croak at first as you turned towards him, your knee knocking against his abrasively, clumsily. God, you were so drunk,  “Could I- could I have a try?” 

His gaze bled into yours before it dropped to the cigarette between his fingers, he gestured to it at first; to which you nodded in confirmation. His features morphed into one of amusement, impressed as he handed it towards you; tutting all the while, “Naughty.” 

You laughed, head hanging back loosely as the alcohol broke the filter that had at first clouded your, already dulled, senses, “I just want to try new things, Professor.” To which you then attempted to take a drag of the cigarette, though you failed entirely, breaking into a fit of coughs as the smoke preemptively wafted into your open mouth. 

Erik grinned, shaking his head as he plucked the cigarette from your fingers, “See, like this.” You watched as he puckered his lips around the bud, inhaling, demonstrating before exhaling smoke directly into your face. If you had moved forward only a few inches, your mouths could have met in a kiss, your mind spoke insidiously. Once he handed the cigarette back to you, you followed his administration; though you were still unable to stop the hacking coughs from rising within your lungs, practically throwing the cigarette back at him as you spluttered into your elbow. 

“How do you even get used to that?” 

He shrugged, returning to his own routine of inhaling and exhaling, “Like I said, nasty habit.” 

Exhaling quietly, you allowed silence to settle over the two of you; an embalming sense of bliss filling your senses- the sounds of the bonfire had long since calmed now, the party having wound down for the night as people presumably either left for their rooms or huddled in groups around the fire. The blurred edges of inebriation left only a residual floating sense now; your heartbeat having calmed, simply basking in the proximity of Erik’s presence, closer than ever before; closer than the dreams that awoke you at night, that plagued every day and every interaction with the man beside you. 

His own resolute silence dawned upon you then; shit, maybe he wanted to be alone? You instantly began to rise to your feet, “I’m sorry, Erik, I-” Before you could continue, a hand curled around your wrist; dexterous fingers caressing the skin there as he stared up at you; his gaze open, unabashed. However, the moment ended as soon as it started, he seemed to catch himself; his gaze darkening as he snatched his hand away- almost as if he had made contact with boiling hot coals, not the cool skin of your wrist. You stood there for a moment, shoulders taut and shock unbridled as you stared at the spot where his caress had just laid. 

Abruptly, he stood; a hand carding through his hair as he disposed of the cigarette- the bud smoking upon the ground as he began to pace; shaking his head all the while, “I’m sorry Y/N, Oh, I’m so sorry-” 

“Professor, what-” 

“Please,” He begged brokenly, his voice broken as he pleaded with you, stopping his pacing a mere step before you, “Please, don’t call me that.” 

His words were strict, final. You could only nod, regret and embarrassment fizzing within your throat as you garbled out an apology, “I’m sorry, Erik, I-” 

“God,” He sighed, his eyes practically rolling back as he stood before you, his hands clenched at his sides; as if he were holding himself back, “I wish you didn’t call me that either.” 

“I- I’m sorry, I don’t-” 

Erik turned, pacing back towards the step before lowering himself upon it, his head instantly falling to his hands as the tips of his fingers entangled into his hair; his whole demeanour clenched in distress. You sincerely did not understand what was happening. When he spoke next, his voice was low, but grating with emotion. Emotion that resided deep within his bowels, within the very vessels of his soul as he raised his head towards you, “I’m a terrible teacher.” 

The confusion ebbed and flowed through your bloodstream now, practically a part of you as you could only gape at him, “What? No-” 

“No, Y/N.” He spoke, silencing you, “I am awful, horrible. I have thoughts that no teacher, no man should have.” 

Swallowing nervously, you advanced towards him; coaxing yourself forward as if approaching a stalking predator; his gaping mouth practically waiting to engulf you, feast upon your blood and bones and soul. “Erik, I don’t understand-” 

“Y/N.” He rose, instantly crowding towards you, his hands moving to caress your shoulders and arms and waist; engulfing the feeling of your skin like a man hungry past the bounds of starvation. You could only stand there, panting. “Day and night, awake and asleep; I think of you. You reside in the light of every dream and the deep darkness of every nightmare; you are always there.” It was his turn to pant now, your hot breaths mingling upon the cold air as you willed, begged yourself not to give in, not to look down at his lips. Before you could reply, he shook his head, tears swimming in his eyes, “You don’t have to say anything, please, never feel pressured to say anything back; to return my horrible, wretched thoughts. I’ll leave, I’ll leave the school, I’ll leave you alone-” 

You swallowed the sound of his words with your own lips, a hmm the only sound that remained of his rant as you moved to clutch his cheeks, his jaw, the ends of his hair. The two of you stumbled backwards as you gasped into his mouth, your lips moving with intense fervour as he manoeuvred you backwards- encasing your neck with his arms as he propped you against a nearby tree- the bristles and branches scratching against your form allowed no solace as your lips engulfed Erik’s, your soul ricocheting against his as you moved in perfect tandem. Tongues and bodies intertwined as you gasped and moaned and panted against his mouth; your leg hitching around his waist as he dragged a hand downwards before trailing a finger across the skin of your kneecap- he was everywhere, the feeling of him electrifying as he moved down; his tongue forming shapes upon your throat as his breath burned hot against the sensitive skin there.

Just as his hand began to move south, just as his fingers intertwined with the edges of your skirt- a twig snapped in the nearby wood. Instantly the moment died, Erik disconnected himself from you entirely; his shirt half hanging from his frame and hair a mess as he panted at you, eyes wide; form trembling. You could only stare back, chest heaving and back firm against the base of the tree, your leg still hanging limp in the air as the contact point had since retreated. 

Gulping, you patted at the hair on top of your head, wiped at the moist upon your lips, “Erik-” 

He didn’t spare you the grace of another word as he retreated, moving backwards; his stricken gaze never leaving yours as he retreated into the dark of the trees, back to the bustling of the party. Once his figure disappeared, you could only collapse against the tree entirely; tears pouring from your eyes and glistening upon your cheeks as you sobbed, your whole body feeling nothing but anguish.

TBC

[bvnnywrites]

Still Waters Run Deep

Chapter 2: Überprüfen

PAIRING: Eldritch!König x Reader

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry for the very long wait. My body gave out on stress and I passed out the side of the road this Monday on my way home. Also, I was manic and I had an episode yesterday so yayeet. Also, I read all your comments in the last chapter and asvbhbvdvdhdhfhv I LOVE ALL OF YOU GUYS. THANK YOU SO MUCH RAHHHHHH. Anyways, enjoy the chapter! UwU

WARNING: NON-CON/DUB-CON, DARK, SMUT, NSFW, Creampie, Breeding Kink, Fingering, Stomach Bulge, Age Gap, Unprotected Sex, Cockwarming, Implied Discharge, Power Imbalance, Abuse of Authority, No Beta Reader, Dom! König, Size Kink, Size Difference, Cannibalism, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Cannibalistic Thoughts, Older!König, Eldritch!König, Monster!König, Masturbation, Dark Romance, Blood and Gore, Violence, Monsterfucking

THE ONLY INTERESTING THING TO DO AT KORTAC, if he wasn’t out and about in the field, was apparently dwelling in the thought of committing fraternization – and König chided himself that he was better than this.

But there’s nothing to worry about. Of course, he isn’t losing sleep overthinking the eager look on your face to get in his good graces—his approval and validation. No. he isn’t staying up late, seeing your adorable pouty lips and sweet-looking eyes glancing up at him because you’re too small whether you stood or sat. Especially, the softness of your flesh when he held your chin to make you look at him, or the warmth of your body when he soothed you from seeing those disgusting pictures.

König definitely does not want to know every detail of your life—what your flesh taste like pressed against his tongue, what it feels like as the tentacles on his face roam your body and leaving slick in its trail, what you like or hate, what blood type you have, how soft your hair is when he’s gripping it in his fingers while he’s shoving his cock deep in your little cunt, what your favorite position in bed is, what it feels like to have your pussy milking him desperately as he breeds you again and again until you’re pregnant with his children.

No.

No.

Who the hell was he kidding?

He’s is a fucking pervert—the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

What he’s doing is fucking disgusting and he can’t believe that he’s thinking this way about you. God, König knows he’s a thousand shades of fucked up, but he did not expect to be like this. The colonel never expected he’d go this fucking low. He doesn’t want to be like he’s father—a disgusting fucker who was selfish and sick in the head—but he can’t help but fall straight down the rabbit hole and into the maws of the abyss of his own wicked desires.

König is a fucking disgusting creep because you’re so sweet, calm and understanding when he threw the first few layers of ugliness from his soul, dumping it on your lap, and you so graciously comforted him. He is disgusting because you’re literally twenty-three years younger than him, old enough to be his daughter, and yet your eagerness to obtain his approval has him losing his shit. You have him losing his morals. The softness of your skin has him wanting more, his teeth clenched with poorly contained desire, and yet he demands more – to be closer, to reach into the depths of your soul and twist it until you’re as fucked up as he is—craving him the way he craves you. You have him understanding why his father did what he did because now he thinks that maybe the sick fuck couldn’t control himself in the presence of his ‘Aphrodite’.

And you… you were König’s ‘Aphrodite’—the embodiment of his desires, both good and bad.

He is a fucking pervert because you were eager to help him in this manhunt for the so-called beast. Eager and desperate to advance in the ranks of the military – that’s all you were probably hoping, but instead of following the logical side, König had let himself be swayed by the waves of his depravity.

König was always proud of his self-control – his more human nature that he had inherited from his beloved mother. He never thought the day would come where these sickening thoughts would run in his mind. He was a monster, yes, but nature does have a way of being more predominant than nurture. At least, in this case. It didn’t even matter that his mother – who despised and loved him at the same time – had engrained the Lord’s teachings into his head or the holy scriptures that she would beat into his flesh.

All those teachings went to waste because at the end of the day, he was his father’s son.

He could see the disappointing and disgusted look on his mother’s face right now.

But all that washes away when his mind comforts him with the thoughts of you. The way your pretty eyes look up at him through long lashes, the way your voice addresses him has desire pumping in König’s veins. Because somehow, when it comes to you, he feels calm as he feels the need to lash out. He feels the need to bite and claw at you, marking you as his own little wife to love and to fuck. He wants to rip off his mask in front of you and make you braid his hair and weave flowers into it because you called him ‘beautiful’, wants to let one of his tentacles slither around your neck while he bites you and marks you as his. His little and eager to please mate—his beloved wife-to-be.

He can still see your pouty face, as if you’re there right in front of him. Your pretty wide eyes looking up at him—looking at him as if he wasn’t a disgusting monster—like an actual breathing person. Your scent lingers in his nose for the past two days. You smelled delicious – divine, if he’s honest. You reeked of the shower gel that you use,  and that suffocating perfume—or is it a cologne?—that you’re using to make yourself fresh. Several thoughts ran in his head, wanting nothing more than to smother you in his scent. Rubbing his smell all over you, until every single being—doesn’t matter if mortal or not—would know that you’re his.

The thought itself had his cock twitching more than it did before. It’s throbbing hard, leaking precum all over his hand as he pumps it with his fist while the other grips the sheets. Judging from your smaller form against his, you’d definitely be fucking tight, which was why he was gripping it mercilessly. The pictures of pin-up girls had long been discarded. He doesn’t need those when he has your pretty face, adorable ass, and alluring scent engraved in his mind. He’s a fucking perverted old dog… and it was all because of you.

König wants to have you on his knees before him. Relieving him of his stress by wrapping your adorable lips around the head of his dick, soft tongue lapping at the precum he’s making as if you’re a goddess and the gushing liquid was ambrosia—the very thing you needed to live.

He wants to take care of you, cradle you in his arms and pepper your face with kisses and show you how much he can just provide for you—KorTac isn’t cheap in their payments, and he is one of their best mercenaries they have, not counting the huge mess he has made that his superiors are ordering him to clean up. He was too valuable for them to lose, so they’re just asking him to wipe away the evidence and pin the blame on some poor soldier who was there at the wrong place at the right time.

König wants nothing more than to hold you close. He can’t even think about letting you fall in the grasp of another man—whether they be as old as him or young as your age, whichever you prefer—because you are fragile as you are gullible. He can tell by the way your eyes glimmer at him or the kindness that blossoms on your face whenever you cater to the soldiers under your command, acting as if you’re a mother to them. He wants you to be his. His little, beloved wife. Waiting for him in the house he’d buy for you in Hallstatt or maybe he’d catch you walking along the shoreline of the lake while you’re telling stories of yours and his love story to his unborn child that grows in your womb.

By God König wanted you more than anything.

He’s thinking of putting you on your knees, preferably on his bed so it wouldn’t make you uncomfortable in the long run, so you can be comfortable while he shoves his cock down your throat. Your pretty lips wrapped around his cock, little whines and moans vibrating from you and on to his length and muffled from how strong his thrusts are inside your tight, wet, and warm mouth.

 Your face would be messy, mascara running down your cheeks, if you had any, and lip gloss smeared and staining his cock. And König would try to be gentle, so he wouldn’t end up breaking you, but it’d be impossible when you’re so eager to please him. You’d have trouble barking out orders and speaking normally, because he knows he’d wreck your throat by the time he’s done with you.

König is fantasizing about it—having you in such a state, making use of your delicate mouth and moving tongue.

But guilt flashes across his mind. No. No, he couldn’t do that to you. You’re a fragile little thing—not to mention a human. You’re like an adorable little mouse beneath him. Breaking you would break him too—hurting you would hurt him too.

He is a worthless monster, a disgusting being that should be shot dead for just thinking of you—his klein hase—like this. That woman who read his future was right. He was depraved. He’d ruin you…

But God have mercy on him because he couldn’t bring himself to care enough to back the fuck away from you.

Your name falling from his lips like a prayer, chanting your name as if you’d be able to save him from eternal damnation – and maybe you could, in your own human way. A primal and dark urge to have you in his full mercy, waiting for him to claim you. He… He just wants to be accepted by people, to be welcomed by his peers, but none of it matters now because he just wants to be accepted by you. He’s panting and groaning, pumping his dick several times, chasing that climax. He is shamelessly hard, cock angry as it's about to burst.

König feels dirty for this. He felt like a teenage boy who’s jerking off to his crush. And despite that, he’s imagining you sucking on his cock or having your forehead pressed against his, whispering how much you love him and how you can’t wait to be filled with his cock. He imagines your cum-drunk expression, eyes glazed as your head is muddled and filled with nothing but pleasure, and that makes him cum; thick ropes of white shooting out from the tip, while his cock pulsates as he pumps it continuously before gradually slowing to a halt.

He keeps cumming, more than he usually does. The white, thick liquid staining his abdomen, pants, and sheets. He moans, biting his lips in a poor attempt to conceal his pathetic whimpers. His release covering his hand—sticky and disgustingly warm. Bless KorTac for allowing him and other high-ranking superiors to have their own room, because he knows goddamn well that he won’t be able to commit such sinful acts in communal barracks.

Post-nut clarity hits him hard, almost the same way his mother would, and he’s shameful for what he had just done. The two of you barely know each other, only getting information about you out of your files, and yet he was infatuated with you the moment you arrived on KorTac that sunny day. And yet he fell in love completely in just a matter of two days after talking with you.

He wants to resent you for what you made him do. He wants to worship you and mark your body with his marks. He wants to be left alone—preferably in your arms while you stroke his hair and look at him lovingly because no one ever looked at him the same way you do.

“Mein Gott, Shatz. What are you doing to me, liebling?”

König pants, letting his head fall back into the pillow as he sighed. His muscles relaxed, so much that he feels like he’s going to be one with the mattress. He lays there for a bit in his own bodily fluids before he got up to clean himself and get changed, replacing the sheets with cleaner ones.

“Colonel, are you there?”

Your soft voice came to his ears, making him stop in his tracks. Was he delusional to the point that he’s imagining your voice? He’s losing it. He’s definitely losing it because no way in hell did you sought him out at—he glances at his clock and sees that it’s 24:58 on a Wednesday—this late in the night. König ignores the voice, opting to throw himself back into the bed, cuddling his pillows and imagining that it’s you.

“Colonel?” Your voice echoes, followed by a soft knock. “Sir? This is very important, I’m sorry.”

Oh. Oh. No, he’s not actually hearing things. You’re actually outside his door. König wore his mask, covering his ugliness because he didn’t want to scare a pretty little thing like you. It would be too soon for you to see his face. It’d be like putting a frog straight in boiling water instead of heating it up little by little.

He rushed to fix the cloth over his head, zipping and buttoning his pants. König almost tore the bolts of his door just to immediately see you, and when he swung the door open—almost ripping it off the hinges—he saw you standing there with several dossiers in your arms. Your pretty doe-like eyes, the ones he fantasized about as he came literally just seconds ago, looks up at him with a sheepish gaze. You smile apologetically up at him, neck craning to properly look at him. He sees the way your eyes glanced at his shirtless torso before flickering up to look at him.

Were you attracted to him the same way he is to you?

Did your cunt also drip at the thought of him, the same way his cock throbs at the mere thought of you? Did you also touch yourself when you were alone the past two days after you two spoke to one another? Did you also call out his name? Whimpering and panting as you flicked your clit and plunged your tiny fingers in your weeping pussy–

“Sorry to disturb you so late at night, I was ordered to give you these documents. Horangi said that I deliver these to you because it needs your immediate approval, sir.”

You say to him, spouting out your reasons and he can see that you’re doing so in hopes of not angering him because you think you’ve disturbed his sleep. How adorable. König keeps a note to himself to tell Horangi not to let you out this late at night; he doesn’t want you being suspected as the killer. Your cheeks are slightly red, and König finds red pretty on your face. So much so that he wants to just grab your squishy cheeks and pepper it with kisses. Maybe nibble on it affectionately.

“It’s alright. No worries. Come in, Schatz.”

He moves aside, letting you in. And, oh boy, you eagerly entered his chambers as you rushed to the desk in his room. You bend over to place the heavy papers on his table, and he has half a mind to bend you over the desk, tear off your clothes, and fuck you stupid until all you can do is mewl and whine on his cock. The fact that he was imagining you on your knees, choking on his cock or pumping it with your hands while you whispered sweet nothing to him five minutes ago didn’t help the colonel either.

“I’m really sorry. I know you’re probably sleeping–”

“I said it is fine, liebling. No need to lose your head over nothing, ja?”

He finds it endearing that he calms you, that his words weigh that much for you. Usually, he’s used to barking orders, establishing things with force. And yet, when he speaks to you softly, reassuring you, that it’s alright if you waltz into his room—into his heart, even—and take whatever you wanted is a nice change of pace. He’d give more to you on your way out, because he loves you. He wants to marry you. He wants to take you back with him to Austria. You’re beautiful in gear, but König knows you’d be more beautiful in maternity dresses.

But he is sane about you. Completely sane about you. Totally normal. Absolutely nothing wrong with his state of mind regarding you. Everyone loves strongly, ja?

“It’s late at night, and I don’t want you to end up as a corpse in the halls, liebling. Let me escort you to your quarters, ja?” He says softly, walking up to you as he effortlessly moves the paperwork that were practically heavy for you. “It would ease me to sleep, knowing you’re safe and sound in your bed.” König pats your head.

“I… um… are you sure, sir?” You look at him, confused as you tilt your head in confusion. “You must be tired for the day, and I’ve already taken up much of your time.”

He ignored your words of worry as he grabbed his hoodie and wore it, finally giving you an ounce of mercy because as much as he loves the way your eyes are drawn to his torso, he also doesn’t want to give you cardiac arrest just because he was being too much for you.

Now that you’re here in his room, alone with the colonel, your heart hums nervously. You pray that no soldier would see you walk out of his room at this hour. Because you don’t want to burden him with silly rumors when he’s drowning in paperwork, focusing on an investigation, and you don't want to add up to his plate.

“I want to protect you from harm, Schatz. With me around, I doubt the beast would hurt you.”

Lies. No, wait. It’s not all lies, so basically just half-truths. With König around, the thing that lurks in the halls of KorTac would never hurt you, if anything it would worship the ground you walk on. Ask him to give you a town for your dowry, and he would enslave every continent on Earth and lay it by your feet—because the thing in the dark is him, and he loves you, and he wants to give you the world.

“Okay. I mean… if that’s okay with you, sir.”

“König.”

“What?”

“Please, mein liebe. I would appreciate it if we drop the formalities. We are comrades, ja?”

“Alright… as I was saying, I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to burden you, König.”

“You’re not a burden. Not to me… not if it’s you, mein liebling.”

Your face scrunched up in confusion with the way he addressed you. It sounds like German, and the way he pronounces it makes you feel important. You don’t know German, and you kick yourself mentally because you wish you knew what he was calling you. For all you know, he’s calling you stupid affectionately. Because it took you weeks before you realize Izzy was calling you ‘stupid’ in the most affectionate way possible, so who’s to say the colonel is any different?

Before you can ask him what the words mean, he walks past you, opening the door for you. You walk out his room, thankful that no one’s there to see the two of you together.

You two walk down the halls, side by side. And poor little you.t you’re practically walking alongside the devil. The halls are empty, devoid of any soul. The trip to your room was quiet, no one is around, obviously. Soldiers were already asleep, and those who didn’t need to follow the curfew were chilling in their room or buried in neck-deep paperwork in their offices.

König wished he wasn’t the monster right now. He wished it was someone else, because he wants an opportunity for him to be a hero. To be a protector. To put up all of his pent-up aggression on someone else while you praise him for his strength and bravery. Maybe shower him with loving kisses, even. He wants something to try and kill him, just so he can show you that he can protect you from anything and anyone who would want to kill you, but then you stop in front of your room, making you turn and smile at him.

He loved your smile, the way your skin stretched and your adorable features twist just to give him a kind gesture

“Well. This is my stop.” You offer him a warm smile, unaware that it’s a currency that König could never afford yet you willingly give it to him for free. “Thank you… for looking out for me, König.”

“You’re a valuable soldier. It would be a shame if the thing lurking the base comes and kills you, Shatz—I want you safe.” He smiles at you beneath the mask, and the way his eyes crinkle is adorable and you know he’s smiling when they do that. “For as long as I’m able to, I’ll protect you, okay?”

His fingers gently held your chin, afraid that he’d break you at the slightest pressure. Your heart thumps in your chest. How could Roze or Izzy ever tell you to avoid him? He was practically a sweetheart. The colonel wanted you safe more than anything, isn’t that enough to warrant an inch of friendship from you?

Your eyes met his, those eyes that remind you of a storm at sea, are filled with nothing but warmth. It makes your breath hitch with how… oddly intimate it feels. You’re sure that if you weren’t a soldier, if the two of you met outside the forces, as civilians, without the medals and badges, you’re sure that he would’ve kissed you right then and there. It felt like your heart was about to explode – it’s too overwhelming.

So, you forced yourself to look away, stepping back and away from his grasps—from his touch. The absence of his touch makes your head clear without realizing it felt hazy in the first place. Such a strange effect that the colonel has on you.

König is displeased that you’ve put more distance between you two, but he doesn’t show it. He doesn’t want to make you worry, despite the adorable look on your face whenever you do look troubled. So, König opts to pat you on the head briefly.

“Sleep tight, Schatz. Don’t forget to lock your door, ja?”

“Alright, co–König. Good night.”

As you shut your doors, the monster outside stood there for a few more minutes before it walked away.

“Did something good happen today, colonel?”

“None of your concern, major.”

Horangi was as sharp as ever, deep voice rumbling in his chest which intimidated most people around him. He was also the only one in the ranks to be able to speak casually with his superior – even though all of KorTac members usually avoid the giant soldier since they don’t really want to risk being discharged because they can’t function properly anymore. Horangi was the closest thing König has to a friend – which is kind of sad since a former gambling addict was the only one who can tolerate his shit and can understand him, even with his hood permanently on.

But Horangi was right.

Something good did happened.

You happened.

“That new lieutenant.” König starts. “If you’re sending her out to deliver files, tell me so I can escort the klein hase to her destination,” the colonel orders him, “I do not wish for her to be hurt.”

He spent the night awake, drinking and shredding it in the gym, trying so hard to put your adorable face out of his mind. You were out of sight alright, he hasn’t seen you running around base for the day because he’s too busy cooped up in his office and signing off the papers that you’ve given him hours ago, but the way your facial features would get distorted into something more adorable every single time he closed his eyes was highly concerning.

And he calms himself down in those wee hours the same way he did moments before you knocked on his door—jerking himself off until he felt nothing but self-hatred and the yearning of having your soft body pressed up against his.

“She’s a lieutenant, König.” Horangi snort. “You know I don’t recruit the weak.”

“She’s a woman,” König responds, “I’m not saying she’s weak, but most soldiers in base are men… I’m sure you can see where I’m going with this.”

“She can handle herself.”

“And what of the monster on the loose?”

“Why? Do you plan on eating her next?”

“… Perhaps.”

König thinks for a moment. It should be easier if he would have an official legal reason to keep you by his side. Have your desk literally in his office so he can always keep his eyes on you, make sure no one lays a finger on you. König chucks his delirious thoughts to the lack of sleep, his fingers held down the paper while he wrote with his pen, but he wished he was holding you down and fucking into your wet cunt instead. He had those things before – overthinking about the tiniest details in someone he never truly knew, but understood that he can’t be with them—it could be his childhood crushes that he could never had thanks to his hideous appearance… and anxiety. It could be fantasizing about a pretty woman that caught his attention one day—imagining a life with them, multiple kids, and maybe a dog or two. König is aware that he has a problem , but not like… this; never dangerous.

The problem was that he knows he can have you.

Perhaps not in a traditional way. No. He can’t court you, that’s against the rules, and König wished nothing more that you were a civilian instead of a soldier. Because of your badge, he couldn’t be with you. He has half a mind to snatch you away and leave you as his perfect little bedmate because he knows you would never marry a monster like him, so abducting you was… reasonable. He can shower you with gifts in your captivity, decorating you with all the gold and jewel in the world while he’s fucking his child into you. He can have his men kidnap you, and yes, it is inhumane but you would be happy with him as his wife than a woman playing as a lieutenant. He would soothe your worries, fuck you every single hour with no rest until his cock rearranges your insides and impregnate you until he can convince you that he was the perfect mate for you, and then boom – happily ever after.

He knows that he can have you.

And it drives him crazy because he has never felt a strong urge to want  something so bad in his life. At this point, it’s not even a want. It’s a need. It’s hilarious how the two of you barely knew each other, but König was head over heels for you. He wants you by his side, whether you’re willing or not.

“Have you eaten?” Horangi asked.

“Not yet.” König answered.

That’s how he found himself sitting down at the mess hall, eating this food that was barely stimulating his senses. Horangi didn’t join him, said he had to attend a meeting with his soldiers since a complaint was given to him. It was good, actually. There was rice, three hamburger steak, gravy and mashed potatoes. They gave him a bigger serving simply because he was a giant man, it only made sense to give him enough sustenance to function. The food was delicious, but König didn’t really pay attention much to it.

Now that he has had a taste of you—you giving him kind words and smiling at him—König couldn’t get enough. You were like a drug. He want to pin you down, ravage you in bed, feel your walls clamp and spasm around his cock over and over again while you’re reduced to nothing but mewls with a cum-drunk expression the same way a drug addict heats heroin over a spoon before injecting it into their systems.

He needs you under him, panting and blushing, lips puffy from kisses, skin glazed with sweat and marked with his lips and teeth.

He needs you under him, creaming on his cock while he stretches out your cunt deliciously – taking him to the hilt like a good girl, cock forming a bulge on your abdomen. Juices dripping on to the sheets while he suckles on your nipple, his other hand groping your other tit.

He needs you under him–

“Colonel?”

König’s eyes snapped up and locked on to yours, and the concern scribbled on to them has his heart swooning over you once more. Your brows are turned upward with worry and you standing in front of the table he was sitting at, calling out to him has him wanting to put you on his lap and nuzzle against the crook of your neck. He smiles underneath the mask, seeing you again, blessing his eyes with your beauty.

“Ah, liebling. What brings you my way?”

“Roze is on a mission and Izzy is currently in a meeting, and every seat is taken. So, I was wondering if I can sit with you.”

“Of course, mein liebe. Your company is always welcome.”

You can sit on his lap.

You can sit on his face, ride him while he eats you out. Tongue lapping at your sweet juices as you cum on his face. God, he wants to spoil you. Cover you with kisses and embrace you because he loves you.

To König, you’re adorable when you eat. Your cheeks puffing a little like a chipmunk as you chew your food, before gulping some of your water. There’s a bit of mashed potato smeared by the side of your lips, and you don’t seem to notice. Before he can stop himself, his fingers had made contact with your skin, wiping away the stain. He sees you visibly froze, eyes widening so adorably.

“You had mashed potato on your face.” König chuckled, wiping the food off of his gloves with a tissue.

“O-oh…” You stutter, smiling sheepishly. “Sorry. I was hungry… I missed breakfast.”

Your cheeks turned red, flustered at his gentle gesture, and König eats that shit up. His mind keeping the moment in his head. His desires spilling over it like ink; tainting a shared innocent memory between you two. He stares at you for a solid minute, engraining your features into his memory—as if he hasn’t memorized your face at this point—and smiles softly beneath the mask. There are scars all over his body, including his face, and the tentacles on his face struggles not to reach out to you and feel your skin against it.

He wants you to know that he would do anything for you. How he’s willing to lay down his life for you. How he’s willing to protect you from anything because you’re all he ever wanted in his whole life. You would appreciate a man with scars, right? After all, it’s a sign of bravery.

König took part in many battles, too many to count with his tentacles and fingers and toes combined; spent his youth training to be the best killer possible. He took part in many conflicts and killed hundreds, maybe thousands even,  while feeling nothing but recoil. He isn’t afraid of anything – maybe, except for talking to people sometimes. It’s not like he’s terrified of them, but rather afraid of making a fool of himself. König always hated talking to people, but being colonel meant he had to communicate to soldiers under his command and his superiors.

He isn’t afraid of anything. But… he is afraid of you finally seeing underneath the mask and thinking that you, in fact, find him revolting to look at.

The colonel takes one look good at you, and figures that maybe it’s worth the internal turmoil if it meant that he would have you by his side. He would agree to get as many ranks as possible if that meant he could provide for you and have you quit your job as a soldier. If that would allow him to come home to every day and night instead of sleeping alone in his room.

“I suppose you enjoy your breakfast, liebling?” König chuckled, and your face just goes even more red.

“It’s delicious,” You answered, smiling sheepishly.

He loves it when you smile. Obsessed with it—the way your eyes twinkle with delight whenever you cast your gaze at him without a hint of disgust.

“Would you like to get coffee someday?” König offered. “I know a café that has really good coffee or if you prefer non-caffeinated drinks, they also have milkshakes and their desserts are pretty good.”

 And you with those pretty doe-eyes of yours say, “Sure! Set the time and date, colonel.”

Other soldiers are looking. They’re glancing at you and him, but you don’t seem to notice the stares or the fact that it had gone slightly quiet. He is a creep, weirdo and all the words in a song that he’s been blasting in his tiny headphones these past few days because he can smell the sweetness of your perfume and the way you are smiling at him with such unbridled admiration was driving him mad.

“How about this Thursday, ja?” König inquired, wanting to hear your opinion on the matter.

You think for a moment, brows furrowed and König finds it really endearing. Izzy said she’d take you to a café but she wasn’t really sure yet since she says it might be the day Horangi and her go on missions. Roze wouldn’t be back until Sunday, and you’re left alone with nothing on base.

Well… there is König.

“Sure! I’m free this Thursday.” You say to the colonel, brimming with excitement at your newfound friendship.

The monster is pleased. It seems you’ve checked out all the boxes he’s looking for in a mate.

Tags: @itsbellaham,leslie-lemon,tapioca-marzipan,starcrossed02,manjiroxs,mr-sol,euuuuuuun,sleepyoriana,urmom-77,marriedtoeddie,sylviatherosairy,breannab2018,asmicity-writes,slutforelliewilliamss,3-kai-3,notsamaira,kenz-ee

P.S. Idk how to tag or if I did it right^^

[cece693]

Sword Fighting (Nico Di Angelo x Son of Aphrodite)

link to part two

Summary: You were a likable asshole—everything not associated with Aphrodite. You were devilishly handsome but with a temper of Zeus himself. It was as if you were a byproduct of Aphrodite and Ares. Unsurprisingly, you catch the eyes of many, but more so, the son of Hades, Nico Di Angelo.

tags: no specific timeline/book, oblivious idiots in love, Nico isn't dating Will, you did have something with the son of Apollo, dancing around feelings

Nico watched from the shadows, eyes fixed on the training field where you and Percy Jackson were locked in a heated sparring match. Each movement you made was precise, and confident—like you were born with a sword in your hand. The sunlight caught the sharp angles of your face, highlighting the look of sheer determination in your eyes as you deflected Percy’s swing with a graceful sidestep.

Nico tried to look away. He knew he should, but something kept his gaze glued to you. Perhaps it was the influence of Aphrodite in your veins, that inherent allure that seemed to draw in everyone around you, making them wish they could be closer, even when they knew you could be merciless. But deep down, Nico knew it wasn’t just that. He had felt the allure of others before, including Percy, but what he felt now was different. It was stronger.

You were unlike anyone he’d met at camp. A likable asshole, some called you, a paradox that intrigued him. While most children of Aphrodite were known for their beauty and charm, you were the polar opposite. Devilishly handsome, yes, but with a temper that could rival even Zeus himself. It was as if the gods had mixed the charms of your mother with the fierce spirit of Ares, creating something dangerously compelling. And that danger was precisely what caught Nico’s attention.

Your sword collided with Percy’s in a shower of sparks, and a grin spread across your face. The thrill of the fight, the intensity of it—those things stirred something inside you that Nico could almost feel from where he stood. It was part of what made you so maddeningly attractive. While others found themselves drawn to you for your looks or your charisma, Nico was captivated by that spark, that raw, untamed energy you seemed to possess.

And it frustrated him.

Nico wasn’t one to get swept up in emotions, especially not for someone so openly infuriating. You were arrogant, quick-tempered, and brimming with an insufferable confidence. Yet, there you were, invading his every thought. He wanted to hate you, to dismiss you as just another self-absorbed child of Aphrodite. But every time he watched you—whether you were laughing with friends, glaring at someone who had crossed you, or fighting as you were now—he felt his resolve crumble a little more.

Percy swung his sword in a wide arc, but you were faster, ducking under it and stepping to the side. “You’re getting sloppy, Jackson!” you teased, voice tinged with that self-assured arrogance Nico had grown used to hearing.

“Yeah, yeah,” Percy grumbled, adjusting his stance. “Just you wait.”

You turned your head slightly, as if sensing Nico’s gaze on you. For a split second, your eyes met his, a flicker of something unreadable passing between you. Nico’s heart skipped a beat. Then, just as quickly, you turned back to Percy, deflecting another attack with a casual flick of your wrist.

“You’re staring again, Di Angelo.” A familiar voice came from behind him. Not bothering to turn, Nico felt Will Solance come and stand next to him, probably wearing a knowing smirk. He felt his cheeks burning, “Shut up, Solace.”

No heat was behind his words; after all, it seemed foolish to argue with one of his only friends. Will chuckled, glancing past Nico to where you continued to spar with Percy. “He has that effect on people, you know.” he remarked with a knowing smile.

Nico’s jaw tightened, an unexpected pang of jealousy curling in his chest. He knew Will meant nothing by it, but the reminder stirred something inside him, something dark and possessive. You and Will had a brief romance once, something that had lasted only a few months before you both decided to part ways amicably. But despite the clean break, the memory of your closeness with Will gnawed at Nico. He hated that it did. The two of you had managed to stay friends, and he couldn’t deny that Will still harbored a certain fondness for you—one that Nico wasn’t sure he could compete with.

“Right,” Nico muttered, eyes narrowing as he watched you effortlessly parry another of Percy’s attacks. “He seems to have that effect on everyone.”

Will raised an eyebrow, glancing sideways at Nico. “Jealous, are we?”

Nico shot him a glare. “No.” he lied, a little too quickly. He hated how transparent he could be sometimes, especially around Will, who knew him too well for comfort.

Will sighed, his smile softening. “Look, I get it. He’s…hard to ignore.” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “But you should know, our thing was just a fling. We’re friends now, and he’s—”

“Don’t,” Nico cut in sharply, his voice tight. “I don’t need you to explain anything.”

"But—" Will tried to speak, however, Nico had already disappeared. Huffing in frustration, the son of Apollo continued watching as you easily beat Percy, sword hovering dangerously under his chin. When would those two oblivious idiots realize they're pinning for one another?

[midnightarcheress]

and they said speak now

we’re meant to combine. to heat each other up, to become one. pairing: simon 'ghost' riley x f!reader cw: angst. no comfort. angry yearning simon. mentions of cheating. reader is part of tf141. no use of y/n. part 1 | part 2

you and Ghost have never been friends.

sure, you are acquaintances, colleagues, teammates. but friends? no. it's more of that weird position where you'd take a bullet for each other if necessary, but would never, ever, stand in the same room without a dense fog of tension circling your bodies, limbs trembling with pent-up unjustified fury.

it's been like this ever since you joined the task force. when Price announced a new member to the group, Ghost silently protested; in his head, four was more than enough people to cover their intricate missions, so making it an odd number would only throw off their balance - in and out of the field.

the first few days were surprisingly easy. being the new member was already hard, so you just kept to yourself, did as you were told, and stood out of everyone's way. but soon enough, you and Ghost started clashing. snarky comments evolved into name-calling, finger-pointing, and complete disregard for decorum. for any poor bystander that got caught in the cross-fire, it'd seem like two petty children throwing tantrums at one another, not two well seasoned soldiers of a special ops task force.

years passed, and it never got better. the hatred between the two of you was intense. palpable. frustrating. arousing. full of unspoken words that could never dream of coming out of your lips. even when you're spitting venom at each other and barking death threats - unfunded, in most cases - there was an undeniable spark underneath it all, simmering its way to the surface at every stolen glance during briefing, a pub visit, or a blood-filled battle ground.

he didn't want to admit it, but you worked well together. the minute you'd step in the field, a switch would flip in your minds and there wouldn't be any traces of hostility left, only a deep connection the transcended the need for talking. you'd understand what he needed just by looking in his eyes. his beautiful brown eyes. usually unreadable, but in action, they were the vessel for an obscure language you were oddly fluent on.

in missions alongside you, despite the constant pump of adrenaline coursing through his veins, he felt peaceful. the emotional turmoil in his brain regarding your existence would quiet down, being overruled by a sense of admiration and a strange vulnerability. he knew the range of your skills, but he couldn't help being amazed by your stance, your swift yet precise moves, your mindset. how could a person be graceful while stabbing another?

it was conflicting. the push and pull, the tiring tango that would go on and on with a song that never reached the end. a dynamic that drained the both of you but a dynamic that neither had the will to change. it was something. something that filled your dull lives, a flesh-eating flame that licked your skin every time your arms brushed, that somehow just kept burning brighter.

Simon could feel it. he felt it when you were stranded in a ruinous safe house during a snowstorm and had to cling into his chest to not freeze to death. he felt it when he saw your eyes sparkling as you gasped for air after hearing one of Soap's terrible jokes. he felt it when your blood stained his hands and your consciousness almost slipped out of his reach forever.

you could feel it too.

that's why the news of your engagement ripped his heart out of his chest. the heart he kept hidden behind a fortified wall, stranded in an island not even the bravest sailors dared to reach. but you, with all your stubbornness, got inside. maneuvered in the labyrinth of cracks of his heart and made yourself a little spot. a spot you were oblivious to.

for some delirious reason, you invited Ghost to the wedding. maybe you wanted all of your trusted teammates with you. maybe you wanted to be a little smug about your happiness. either way, you're a civil person, so handing him the invite was the sensible decision; giving him at least a choice.

he didn't like your fiancé. in fact, he despised the guy. it didn't matter that he was a well-known officer, full of achievements and medals, beloved by many, respected by all. in his eyes, the bloke was no more than a frail bastard looking for a doll to show off. how could you get married to that selfish prick? how could you subject yourself to the wishes of a man who only saw you as a prize? why does he care?

for an even more delirious reason, Simon decided to go. worst fucking idea.

his nerves were through the roof. fighting with the necktie like he was the one about to get married, but ultimately tossing it aside. he didn't want to go, he didn't need to go. but he also didn't want to give you the satisfaction of winning the round, he wanted to be the so-called bigger person and show you how he can put differences aside. celebrate your happiness. so he took a seat on the bench, waiting for the inevitable death march.

it was a small event. a few friends, barely any family. he watched as you floated down the aisle, draped in white satin and bearing the brightest smile he has ever seen. he was so accustumed to seeing the harsh expressions you would make at him, that he couldn't help standing in awe as the final fleckes on sunlight danced on your skin, shining on your face and nearly casting a halo over your head. all for the stupid dumbfuck standing at the altar.

Simon couldn't pay attention to the ceremonialist; his mind was too consumed by the disorientation of seeing you. seeing you as a bride. seeing you as a bride in the altar. seeing you ready to live the rest of your life with someone who's not worth one second of your time. he just sat there, transfixed by the scene and only concentrating on you. your beaming eyes, your plump lips, your soft hair, your fingers intertwined with your fiancé's.

the type of focus that made him not register the involuntary movement of his feet to the corridor after the priest said "...speak now or forever hold your peace."

"don't do it." Simon's gruff voice echoed in the small chapel, reverberating on your eardrum like a violent outburst.

confusion shaped the faces of your loved ones. everywhere you looked you saw grimaces, wide-eyes, and parted lips. the sound gasps followed by murmurs of disbelief, the atmosphere thickening by the second, making it impossible to breathe. but for you the room was quiet. too quiet.

"please, you can't-"

"Ghost." you interrupt, dropping your fiancé's hand and glaring at the man who had the nerve to taint your wedding. your mind was racing with a million thoughts. it must be a cruel joke on his side, creating a spectacle out of this, you think.

before you realize it, your hands are dragging Ghost by the arm to the back of the church, stuffing him inside of what looks like a storage room, full of antique paintings and candles.

"have you lost your mind?"

"i think i have," he answers, taking a deep breath, "i must be batshit crazy, i know. but you can't marry him." your eyes narrow, looking for any indication of it being a bluff. why is your half-colleague-half-enemy objecting at your wedding?

"this isn't you. him," he scoffs, gesturing to the man on the other side of the door, "isn't who you are. you're not the type to be controlled by a man, giving in into his act, calling it love.

"what?" you ask, utterly thunderstruck by his words, "calling it- i'm not being controlled, Ghost. i know you're not familiar with the idea, but people can actually love and respect each other."

he dismisses your comment. "do you truly love him?" Simon knows what love is, knows it a little too much and that's what keeps him distant from people. it never ends well. "can you seriously tell me that this isn't a desperate attempt to fill the void in your heart? you're not happy with him."

"i'm not getting married out of necessity, Ghost. and who are you to say that i'm not happy?"

Simon paces in the room, footsteps creaking the hardwood floor. he knew that he was only digging himself a deeper grave, but he couldn't back down now. he won't allow you to commit such a terrible mistake. "i know you. i've watched you ever since you started dating that mutt," he says, studying your face, "you look different around him. almost small. frail."

his words are sharp, cutting through the air like a scathing blade. you feel the anger in his tone, but there's something else beneath the surface. he's almost... tender?

"you reduce yourself beside him," he adds in a matter-of-fact way, taking a step closer to you, "you're a force of nature, a beast, a goddamn hurricane, not-" he glares you up and down "this."

"i don't reduce myself!" you suddenly shout, eyes boring into his skull, "you think that because i'm getting married i'm throwing myself away? i'm a fucking soldier!"

"i know that!" he shouts back, taking a towering stance over you, "does he know that? you know damn well that the minute you sign those papers he's gonna begin persuading you into retiring, into being a perfect little trophy wife he can parade to his buddies."

you laugh. a dry, dull, hollow laugh. you don't know if it's due the absurdity of his statement or the shocking concern laced in each word escaping his mouth. it's one of those moments you're certain you dipped into a parallel universe, because the reality of it all seems too insane to believe. you stand in front of him with arms crossed, pondering your next move in this godforsaken argument. of course he wouldn't give you a break, not even in your wedding day.

"come on, be serious with me for one moment. he doesn't care about you. the real you," Ghost grits his teeth, "he cares about having your warm body by his side, but he doesn't see the vulnerability hidden behind your eyes. the part you keep a secret, tucked away from the world."

you clench your fists, battling against the desire to punch his gut. you're too proud to ever confess, but his words are slowly getting to you, clouding your brain with doubt. "i'll admit, it's not entirely his fault. he's too shallow for his own good, only knows what you show him. but i see what you try to hide." he says in a quieter tone. luring you in, trying to dissipate the tension.

"it has crossed your mind, hasn't it?" you tilt your head, confused by his question, "us. you've wondered about it."

you scoff, "no, i haven't." lie.

"don't lie now, darling." the pet name should make your skin crawl. but it doesn't. he didn't say it in his usual condescending mode, the one he employs whenever he's mocking you. there's no poison in his tongue, it's... sugary. drips like honey over you.

"you feel the heat between us, the suppressed fire itching to make us combust," he steps closer, still lingering a few inches from your body but too close for comfort, "you know how good we are together. everybody sees our synchrony in the field, how perfect we work," his gaze remains unwavering on your eyes, "tell me truth."

"the truth? the truth is that you're a lunatic-"

his fingertips dig in your skin, burning a hole to your bicep. your breath hitches on your throat, startled by the unexpected use of force. his jaw tightens at the sight, muscle twitching and threatening the remnants of self-control that prevents him from kissing you.

your head spins. his face is close. his scent fills your nostrils to the point of dizziness, intoxicating your lungs and sending shockwaves through your nervous system. "fine!" you blurt, "i might have thought of it, but it doesn't mean anything. just because we work well together it doesn't mean we're made for each other, Ghost."

"but it means something."

the air is full of anticipation, tension, energy. it's the moment before a lightning struck. as the space between you decreases, the shield insulating your opposing charges falters, resulting in a rapid electrical discharge that jolts your heart to life. he pulls you into a kiss, daring you to push him away.

your lips meet with a boiling intensity, the fusion of desire, rage, and something more. time stands still as his tongue finds yours, softly massaging it with both tenderness and passion. his touch is eager yet deliberate, the loud thumping of your heart fades into a ringing on your ear as his hand moves from your arm to your waist, pressing you even closer to his body.

"no, stop!" you push him, catching your breath as he stumbles back into the wall, "what's wrong with you?! what's wrong with me? i have a fiancé waiting as i waste my time here with you!"

"god, you don't get it, do you?!" he yells, "he doesn't deserve you! you put him in a pedestal, and while i'm stuck dreaming about you every fucking night he's out there-" he stops himself, giving you a unfamiliar deer in the headlights look.

"he's what?"

silence.

"Simon, finish your sentence."

"look, i," for the first time in the whole exchange, Simon is stumped. he didn't want to bring up the topic. he curses his mouth for flowing with his anger and talking too much, "i didn't want to tell you, i wanted you to see with your own eyes how much of a dipshit he is, but," he gulps, "he's a fucking cheater. i've seen him at the pub a few times with different girls, hands all over, drunk kisses-"

"you're lying," you retort, holding back the tears that start creeping up the corners of your eyes, "he wouldn't do that."

"i really wish i was lying. i'm so sorry."

you lean back on a chair, trembling as your breathing quickens. you don't wanna believe what he says, he's just letting his jealousy speak. but deep down, you know. all the times he came home with a smudged red mark on his neck, a wrinkled phone number in his pocket he rapidly dismisses. it's so typical, isn't it? no matter how devoted you are to a man, they will always search for more. the insatiable need to desire.

Simon frowns at your quivering figure. his heart aches when the small tears make their way down your cheek, staining your white dress. he crouches in front of you, a hand on your knee trying to convey his support, his guilt for being the bearer of the fact, his love. give me your pain. i can handle it. you're not alone, my darling.

"don't touch me." you hiss, raising your watery eyes to his. the look of hurt in your gaze pierces through him like a sword. he wants to say the right words, to protect you, to give you a new reason to love, but his mind is incapable of forming a remotely comforting phrase.

the tears on your face are hot. the salt streams sting on your skin, but nothing compares to the sorrow that filled your ventricles. you can't stay like this, you can't let him win. you're stronger than this. you're stronger than him.

Ghost jumps when you suddenly stand up. the pain in your irises are now accompanied by the unmistakable wrath he's used to deal. only now, you don't direct it at him; instead, you open the door and stomp your way to the altar again, followed quickly by Simon, worried about what you're going to do.

"it's over."

"babe? what?" the fiancé looks down at you, bearing a disgustingly sly smile, not quite believing your words, "you're kidding, right?"

you don't weaver. despite your tear-stained face and obvious hurt state, your resolve is clear. he truly doesn't care about you. he never even went to check on you after you disappeared in a room with Simon, never felt a ting of threat because he believes the control he has on your soul is enough to keep you tight on the leash. "i said, it's over."

the grin in his face fades when he realizes your certainty. he glances at the tall figure in the back, ready to throw hands if he ever so slightly thinks about laying a finger on you. "of course. you." the man says, rolling his sleeves and making his way to Simon.

only to be stopped by you.

"he has nothing to do with this," you state, blocking his path and pushing his chest with a strength you didn't know you had, "this is between your cheating ass and me. i'm not gonna play into your game anymore. there's no wedding, it's over."

the glare he gives you is bone-chilling, and for a second you see his will to pounce at your throat. without any doubt, Ghost moves you aside and shields your body with his, eyes making all the communication. try me. one step closer and i'll kill you.

even with his conceited persona, he knows better than to actually pick a fight with Ghost. he wouldn't hesitate to snap his spine bare-handed, not even inside a church, so he backs off. it really is over.

in the meantime, you're already halfway out the door, breathing in a deeply needed huff of fresh air. it's the classical movie scene with a runaway bride after the big climax - but in this film, the bride is alone. not with the pining romantic counterpart that just poured his heart out.

your name falling from Simon's lips lead your soul back to your earthly form, the reality dawning on your head one more time.

"leave me alone, Simon."

"but," he stops in his tracks, taking in your scorched-earth appearance, "i don't want you to be alone, please, let me-"

"no," you cut him, "i don't need you near me right now. or ever, for that matter."

straight to the core. a gunshot would hurt less, he thinks. "you don't have to do this on your own. i know that our history prompts you to not trust me," he sighs, pondering for a moment if he should really speak what his spirit desperately long for, "i wanna change that. let me prove how much i love you."

his words find their way to your bleeding heart, contaminating your mind with the possibility of being loved by him. for someone who maintains his feelings at bay, kept under lock and key, he sounds sincere.

"love?" your scoff intercuts the rhetorical question, "the Ghost i met doesn't know love. he knows anger, knows disgust, disdain."

he watches your lips quivering, tears threatening the edges of your waterline once again. he wants nothing more but to reach for you, wrap his burly arms around your body and never let go. whisper comfort into your ears, sweet promises of devotion, and give the solace you yearn for.

"i need... time."

Simon looks up to your eyes, locking his gaze and quietly nodding. he understands. he isn't fond of leaving you in this state, but he knows you won't have a change of heart minutes after a love confession. not when he spent years showing you nothing but hate.

it pains him to see your sorrowful grim. pupils following attentively as each of your steps put more distance between your bodies, planting new cracks in his heart. it's only for a while, he repeats to himself as a mantra, cursing silently for treating you with such a freezing-cold demeanor, when all you did was warm his soul.

it was true. Ghost only knows the bad, dreadful emotions. only served you hate and didn't bother to change.

but the thing is, Simon has never hated you.

it's my first time writing like this so i'm a little self-conscious, but i'm also proud of myself <3 hope you like it! i wanna make a part 2, but idk.

little note - i had to edit it on my phone so it was kinda awful lol sorry for any mistakes

[chuellas]

Angel | He didn’t plan on having a traditional future with a marriage and a family but one surprise trip to your work has him second, maybe even triple, guessing himself.

⤷ Ft. Nakahara Chuuya

Warnings | Fem!Reader, mentions of having children/pregnancy, slight identity crisis on Chuuya’s part, WC: 1.3k

A/N | Hello Tumblr people!! I am so excited to finally get to posting this fic. Hope you all enjoy and have a wonderful day <3

The day started out just like any other day for Chuuya, waking up next to you still soundly asleep, making the two of you coffee and breakfast then sending you a text to wake up to as he left for work. He’s been lucky today, only having a short stack of paperwork to finish before heading out to the field. After checking in with a few of his subordinates, Chuuya decides to call it a day early. 

An exceptionally ordinary day for the Port Mafia executive. 

The ginger checks his watch and a grin graces his features when he realizes you should be getting out of work in about 20 minutes. He can easily make it to the clinic you work at before you get off. Usually he’ll text you that he’s coming to pick you up, but he figures today he’ll surprise you and what’s a surprise without a bouquet of your favorite flowers from one of your favorite local florists?

Chuuya makes it to your work in 15 minutes. With 5 minutes to spare, he parks his car. The executive strips himself of his jackets, trying to make himself present as if he has a more casual job then he does and walks into the clinic. 

This clinic isn’t somewhere Chuuya would usually frequent, each time he visits you he feels a bit awkward entering the building. You work as a pediatric nurse, so you see children all day every day. You’ve expressed how difficult it can be watching sick children coming in all day but you still love getting to help them and their parents, even if it’s just for a small visit. 

The executive makes it about 5 feet into the office building when he’s stopped in his tracks at the sight of you with a child, a little boy — he can’t be much older than 4, maybe 5, years old. You’re sat on the floor with him, playing some sort of made up game and something in the ginger’s chest stirs. 

Your smile is wider than usual, a sparkle in your eye as the little boy climbs into your lap, handing you a book with his small and chubby outstretched arms. You take the invasion of your personal space in stride as a soft laugh falls from your lips and you start reading to the young child. You’re so enthralled with the boy that you don’t even notice your boyfriend standing there, starstruck. 

The scene laid out in Chuuya makes his heart yearn. In his line of work having children is risky. Being with you alone is dangerous, if it weren’t for you being an ability user yourself, Chuuya never would have entertained a relationship with a civilian. But with a child… he’s not so arrogant that he would guarantee their safety when, realistically, he knows that’s not something he can assure. 

Logically, his brain is telling him that the two of you could never become parents. But that little voice in his head that’s gotten increasingly louder since he met you is practically screaming at him. The image of a small bundle of joy with your hair and his eyes flashes across his mind. Then there’s the thought of you pregnant with his child and that short circuits something inside of his brain. He's no longer thinking logically. 

Chuuya never thought he wanted that. He was okay - content even - with it only being the two of you for the rest of your lives. But now? seeing you with a child like this, how good you are with him, he’s no longer sure. 

You’ve never brought up the idea of marriage, let alone children. Chuuya just assumed you understood that’s just something he wouldn’t be able to give you. Or maybe even that you didn’t want that kind of life. But the mafia executive is plagued by images of you in an extravagant white dress, a swollen stomach and a child that’s the perfect blend of your genes with Chuuya’s. 

Oh.

The ginger is too far gone.

It’s not until your coworker, the receptionist, is greeting Chuuya that you notice him. Not a moment too soon either, Chuuya was spiraling in a direction he doesn't think he would recover from. The woman’s voice brings him back to reality as you look up from the picture book that has a cat on display. Your eyes are misty but you smile brightly at your boyfriend. 

You’re so breathtakingly gorgeous that Chuuya literally feels winded, like your smile stole his ability to breathe. 

You tilt your head curiously. “Couldn’t wait till I got off to see me?”

“Well, I was planning on it, but looks like you’ve been preoccupied.” The ginger squats down next to you and the little boy in your arms stirs, turning to eye the ginger suspiciously.

Your attention is brought back to the small child for a split second before your head is turning to look behind Chuuya as the clinic door loudly clicks open. You smile warmly and maneuver yourself up, somehow keeping the boy in your arms. A woman with the same green eyes as the boy walks in with a baby swaddled securely to her chest. 

You gently let the boy down and watch as he runs up to who Chuuya can only assume is his mother. The resemblance, even at such a young age, is uncanny. Once again Chuuya’s thoughts are brought back to what a child with you would look like. What features would he or she get? Hopefully they would get all of your personality and temperament. 

The ginger looks over to you as a way to subtly observe your features but what he sees makes his stomach sink and face drop. The look in your eyes is longing and Chuuya knows. You want children of your own. That’s not the look of someone who never wants children. 

You put on a tight smile as the woman speaks. “Thank you so much for watching him. say thank you to the nice nurse, natsu.”

The boy waves at you with his small and chubby hand. In a timid and quiet voice the boy thanks you and then waves as his mother guides him out of the clinic. You both watch the trio until the door shuts. 

“Oh my god- I didn’t realize my shift was over with already! Are you here to pick me up? I just need to finish entering something and then I'll be out, okay-?” You blush, catching yourself before you call Chuuya your usual term of endearment while still in a professional setting. “U-uhm… fifteen minutes max. I'll be out before you know it.”

The ginger’s face softens and he smiles at you lovingly. “You got it, Doll. Y’know where to find me.”

You smile back at him and nod. As you go to turn around, Chuuya grabs hold of your hand and stops you so he can bring it up to his mouth and place a tender kiss atop your knuckles. Your breath hitches and your shoulders tense for a moment. Your cheeks heat up and you quickly look around to find your coworker cooing at his display of affection. 

You let out a squeak and pull your hand back when the executive looks up to you. 

“Chuuya- I- You-” You let out a huff and frown at him, grabbing him and spinning him around then pushing his back. “Just- Go, I’ll meet you out there.”

Chuuya watches you with an amused smirk as you turn and scan your keycard to unlock the door. He waits until it’s shut to wave at the receptionist before heading back to the parking lot. 

His mind still lingers on what the future could truly hold for the two of you. He's seen plenty of his colleagues build happy lives outside of the mafia. Maybe it’s wishful thinking but chuuya’s starting to think maybe he could too. The two of you have made it this far, why not push the limits? 

The executive’s hand twitches and phone burns in his pocket. He's made the decision, there’s something he has to do. He waits to get into his car, but the moment he does, Chuuya is unlocking his phone and searching up engagement ring cuts and styles.