#and create a whole sob story

[globodamorte]

chasing tails spoilers if anyone cares about that

can u imagine if Taeyeon was the killer and she was sooo fucking out of touch with reality and just wanted to be famous and rich so she murders her friends to try to ride on the tragedy to make money afterwards.

[h0estar]

dawg, one thing abt me is that i've always been an advocate for yukine and yato's happiness.... so i'm just curious.... WHEN EXACTLY WILL ADATCHITOKA PAY FOR THEIR CRIMES AGAINST THIS KID AND HIS SILLY SELF-PROCLAIMED DAD 😭 LET MY BOYS REST MAN DAMN

[plasky]

I fucking love adding my OC's from like a whole different universe into my silly Object Show City and then designing them to what they would be like if they were there their whole lives

[badolmen]

from eden, part VIII

Word count: 11,296

Warnings: Shipping, self-deprecating thoughts, strong language, violence, blood/injury, mild gore, death, animal death

Summary: After a couple peaceful months living on the ranch with Tango, Jimmy thinks he’s finally found true contentment. Until a stranger named Bravo, who shares a disturbing similarity to Tango, shows up at their door one day. But what happens next is even more unexpected, and threatens to destroy everything they’ve built together.

A/N: Welp, I got this done a lot sooner than I expected despite my summer clinicals. Surprise. Ik this part has been highly anticipated so hopefully I’ve done it justice. Hope y’all enjoy, pls reblog/comment if u do! It really does help <3 - Aqua

~*~

from eden, part VIII - i slithered here from eden, just to sit outside your door

~*~

Somewhere in Double Life, a player sits in a rocking chair.

Jimmy’s head is bent down in concentration as he carefully passes his needle in and out of the fabric. Embroidery has always soothed him, so it’s been his favorite way to spend the time in quiet moments. Several framed squares of his designs already adorn the ranch’s walls- as well as a few shirts in Tango’s closet.

Afternoon sunlight streams in through the window beside Jimmy, illuminating the dust that floats lazily in the still air. He can hear the occasional ka-thunk of pistons as Tango troubleshoots the sugar cane farm in the basement. Beyond that, the animals outside are always audible- though far less so than they used to be, back when the cow pen was adjacent to the ranch house. The background noise is something familiar, now. Something comforting.

It’s been a lovely couple months on the Double Life world since they all agreed to end the death game. Everyone’s bases are really starting to come along, as is the centrally-located shopping district. Infrastructure is gradually getting built up- paths, bridges, landscaping, and even a few communal farms. With the world border down, the Double Lifers are taking the opportunity to spread out a bit.

Jimmy thinks there’ll be an expedition to the nearest stronghold in the coming week to finally procure some elytra and shulker boxes. He’ll leave that particular adventure to the more PVP-inclined players, though. He knows Tango isn’t a fan of dragon fights and truthfully, he doesn’t trust his own capabilities in that regard, either. The last thing he wants to do is cause Tango an unexpected death at an inconvenient time.

There have been a handful of accidents between the two of them, mostly during caving sessions. Those are generally inconsequential and easily laughed off. Jimmy wants to keep it that way.

Keep reading

[hybbart]

Day 2506: The world almost ends...

Short story below

The last thing Tango could recall was laying on the ground in a warm pool of his own blood, staring up at a sea of faces gnashing their teeth and claws into his limbs.

And thinking, none of you are Jimmy.

Then everything burned away into darkness.

Yet the world did not end.

It reformed itself a pool of indiscernible reds, an incomplete, deafening whisper, and a biting stench.

A barrier draped itself out over it all. The first shape to ever form, outstretched to block out the colours and sounds and smells. The first feeling accompanied it, something soft and structured, dragging the whole world back down.

And Tango thought for the first time, and he thought, that is Jimmy.

The world was swallowed once more, in its infancy before anything could take form. So, it tried again.

This time it created more than just red. Blacks, blues, greens. Yellow. Tango reached out for it, but had no body with which to do so. Trapped by nothing. There were sounds but they were somewhere else where he wasn’t. Skin he did not have itched and burned. If he could only exist enough to reach, but what little there was soon slipped away. The first, last, and only thing this Tango knew was despair.

So, it tried again.

In this one Tango had a body, he knew, but it was a cage. Cold, stiff, unyielding to him rattling it, begging for freedom. He still couldn’t reach Jimmy, only a shadow in the pool. He screamed, but it made no sound, and he went unseen.

So, it tried again.

Everything burned. Not an inch of his cage went unbitten. If he could he would tear it all off. This time Jimmy heard him, but it did Tango little good. There were too many sounds, too many smells, and they all ripped him apart until there was nothing left.

So, it tried again.

And again, and again, and again.

Until finally the world began to settle into place.

Tango peeled open his eyes, staring up at the clouds, body numb and heavy from the pain. It was like his muscles had turned into snakes biting each other every time he moved, but he could move. He could feel, and think, and hear the nearby sound of bird song.

He tried calling out for Jimmy, voice like shards of glass to his throat and ears. It was good enough. There Jimmy was, leaned over him, blocking out the sun. Though it still burned to do so Tango could feel the weight of a hand on his own. He wished he could assure Jimmy that he was fine.

Jimmy watched him silently. Tango reached out for him again, tears in his eyes. “Jimmy.” He croaked, trying to beckon the avian forward. But he would not move. Tango began to sob. “You’re here. You’re here.”

He opened his mouth. It was as though the whole world went silent to listen. No voice came. Nothing but a sickening crunch. Tango’s vision swam, consumed by Jimmy. Old blood poured from his mouth, drenching Tango below, around the mangled remains of beating flesh. No light filled his eyes, not the bright light of the sun or his own inner sunshine he always carried, or even the black flames consuming his wings. They were as lifeless as the dried mould clinging to his jaw bone and the grey of his cheek.

Tango couldn’t scream.

His own heart wrenched him awake. The rest of him delayed, eyes darting and muscles cramping. Something was squeezing his left arm to death until it was numb. His eyes began to sting from the light piercing right into them. A muffled voice filled the air, and a shadow cast over to block the sun.

“Are you okay?” It asked.

Tango was in too much pain to reply. The shadow stretched out far to canopy the whole sky from view. Wings. They were wings. Tango gasped, trying desperately to call out. “J-”

But his eyes adjusted soon enough, and before him was not feathers made of fall wheat and butter. These were a dusty brown, only golden in the light of the afternoon sun. The eyes that stared down upon him were a piercing sky blue and the shoulders were far too broad. New panic settled within Tango’s bones. Too much of his body hurt to run away.

“Oh, good, you’re awake this time.” He said, voice most certainly not Jimmy’s. His grin was too sharp. “I was starting to think you were just gonna kick the bucket.” The stranger shifted, grabbing something far beyond Tango’s view. “Which would be quite a shame given how much of my supplies you’ve used up.”

Some brightly coloured cylinder was held up towards his face. A water bottle, Tango’s brain finally provided after several seconds. Tango managed to move his mouth enough to accept, its straw preventing him from spilling too horridly over himself. Even still, he quickly found himself choking, sputtering up much of what made it into his mouth. The stranger hummed to himself, waiting for Tango to cease his coughing before trying again, this time one gloved hand cradling the back of Tango’s head to hold him up just slightly. The water went down much easier. Only after it was taken away did it occur to Tango it may not be the best to trust the liquid. He was already a soft breeze away from death, what did it matter?

Because you still have to find Jimmy.

The stranger yelped, but Tango ignored him as he tried to push himself up. “Hey, there!” Hands found their way to the back and front of his torso, the only thing keeping him from collapsing back down as the brief pulse of energy abandoned him. “You took at least fifteen chomps, there, buddy, you’re in no condition to be on your feet.”

Tango tried to explain himself, tried to yell at the man. But all he could get out when he said Jimmy’s name was a squeak that tore up his throat. Insufficient. Though he tried to fight back, the stranger laid him back down. Tango tried not to sob. Everything hurt, everything was going horridly wrong, and his rancher was probably dead in a ditch somewhere. He’d follow soon enough at this rate. It was all so pointless-

Warmth wafted through the air. Sweet and achingly familiar. Tango’s head lulled to watch the stranger as he held up a fork towards him, the fluffy pasty dotted with berries and dripping syrup. “I hope you don’t mind, but I kinda live off instant pancake mix at the moment. If you can eat.”

Tango wasn’t sure he could, but he accepted the offer anyways. Even just the smell would have brought tears to Tango’s eyes if he could cry. The bites kept coming until Tango hadn’t the strength to eat anything more. His body screamed at him to both stop and eat, desperate for the food Tango had been denying it and lacking the strength to continue, stomach rolling in that fashion that he knew meant it would all come back up if he tried.

Silence returned while the stranger finished the rest, most of it still there. Anything else might have made Tango throw up from the smell anyways. All he could think of instead was breezy summer mornings, sat at an uneven oak table covered in blemishes that they never got around to replacing, throwing plastic tablecloths over instead. Coffee that became tea that became increasingly questionable flower water that became tea once more. The distant sounds of mooing and much closer sounds of barking, and, somewhere in between, a bird song matching whatever was on the stereo.

Why had they left? They should have stayed on the ranch. He should have tried harder to convince Jimmy not to go, should have put his foot down. When that bridge came into view he should have immediately turned them back around. They saw the ocean, and what good did it do them? Jimmy died, lost and far away from home, and Tango would soon join him...

The next time Tango woke up it was early morning. Something loud had ripped him from his slumber, but he could not for the life of him recall what it was. As best he could he looked around, and found the stranger shutting a cabinet set against a far wall. Tango must have made some sort of noise, because his head immediately swivelled towards him. “You’re awake again.” He said, matter of factly. There was too much energy in his hops to a kitchen. Did all avians wake up at the crack of dawn?

It was almost hard to watch the man, actually. Tango had seen it with Grian, but it hadn’t registered. Because he was a puffball and it only seemed natural, or because he’d never had reason to note it. This strangers talons similarly rarely touched the ground, taking leaps and bounds to reach for anything. Wings casually unfurled themselves to glide him across the room. It was so different to Jimmy, who stumbled his way everywhere, only used his wings for balance.

More food was set in front of him, this time a small bowl of mixed berries. “I already ate.” Explained the stranger while he held out a spoonful. “If it’s too hard to chew I can blitz it into a smoothie.”

“No.” Tango croaked. Easier than last time, but his throat still felt like it was splintering.

The stranger quietly fed him. The sun was quickly rising, but the avian didn’t seem to have anywhere to be. At some point Tango thought he heard the bark of a dog, but no one else came into the sky-lit room. The stranger’s clothes were not the sort one wore when they knew zombies were nearby. His sweater was sleeveless and his gloves were for sport, to keep frog scratching his hands and keeping a good grip, rather than the heavy leather work gloves Jimmy wore. The sort of thing they’d wear on peaceful days at the ranch, not the city Tango thought he was last in.

“So,” The man rocked his head slightly as he put the half-empty bowl aside. “You got a name, stranger? If you’re up for talkin’ of course.”

“Tango.” His voice scratched worse than it usually did, almost incoherent to his own ears. No long sentences, then. “You?”

“Wels, at your service.” He did a small bow, smile widening. “There’s not a lot of survivors out here these days, Tango. You musta come quite a ways?”

He nodded, wincing at the sting in his neck. Had he been bitten there? “We came from the mountains.”

Wels’ eyebrow rose. His hands began moving just outside Tango’s vision, fiddling with something. “’We’, huh? Run into some bad luck?”

“I’m looking.” Tango quickly snapped. “We got separated. He’s here.”

“You don’t sound like you believe that.”

Of course he didn’t. Tango had never been the optimistic sort. It was Jimmy who comforted them when things went wrong, calmed Tango down when he lost his temper. Thought there’d be an adventure to have exploring uncharted territory. If it was Jimmy here and now instead, he’d be just as determined as day one. Tango couldn’t do that, could barely hope to even find a body. But... “If I stop looking, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

The room fell quiet. A rough hand lifted the stump of Tango’s left arm, peeling something off it. It stung, but not as much as the air did seconds later. Tango grit his teeth. It last too long, but eventually it subsided into a dull ache. Even without looking he knew it was swollen and ugly, raw from wearing his arm for too long. It would take too much time to pull on and off without help. Why was he so stupid as to design it that way? Like he’d never be alone?

The dog outside continued to bark.

“Well, then,” Wels sighed. “Guess if you gotta keep looking then I’ll have to keep my eyes open, too.”

Tango strained to shake his head, “You don’t have to-

“Hey, it’s my city. Who better to keep an eye out? Besides,” He stood up, spreading his wings wide enough to block out the skylight, “You aren’t really getting out of bed any time soon, and you can’t exactly get back down without my help anyways.”

“Down?” Tango murmured to himself, turning towards the sunlight.

His vision was still a mess, but he could see it. Behind stacks of supplies and reorganized furniture was a wall-wide glass balcony, doors wedged wide open. Peeking over the rail was the very top of a half-dozen skyscrapers he recognized from the ground.

Wels hopped over towards the open doors, grabbing various items from a table. A bag, rope, a sword- was that metal gauntlets? By the time he’d kitted out he looked like he’d raided a museum exhibit. When he noticed Tango’s staring he gave him a grin and a thumbs up. “Gotta go for a water and medicine run. Be back before the sun sets.” He jumped up onto the railing, but paused. “Say, uh, what’d your buddy look like? In case I run into him.”

“Blond.” Tango rasped. “Lanky, bit taller than you. Long yellow wings. Should be with a big black dog with no eyes. Hopefully...”

Something in the man’s wings tensed, smile falling away. “A canary avian?” He asked.

“Yeah.”

“And you- how did you say you got separated.”

“He was gone when I woke up. He kept-”

“Wandering off?”

The blazeborn’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah... What-”

But Wels unfurled his wings once more, waving his hand dismissively. “We’ll talk later, when I get back. You should rest up, get back on your feet.”

With that he was gone.

Tango could feel his heart hammering in his chest, wounds pulsing down his limbs. He turned his gaze up to the ceiling. How on earth was he supposed to rest after that?

[5sospenguinqueen]

Lullabies Pt 2 | Max Verstappen x Singer! Reader

Summary: Max left without letting you fully explain. Nearly a year later, he realises he made a mistake when he thinks you're moving on.

Warnings: Swearing. Angst but also fluff. Redemption arc.

Female reader with various faceclaims (pics found on pinterest). Takes place in 2021 with slightly altered timelines.

Main Masterlist

prev.

━━━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━━━

Oct

YourUserName just posted

liked by pierregasly, kellypiquet and others

YourUserName a huge thank you to everyone who came to my album release concert! 🥀 a huge apology to anyone who missed out but after such a phenomenal crowd this evening, i'm pleased to announce the GUTS tour coming 2022!!

11,998 comments

User1 a tour!!! release the dates/countries now please and thank you

User2 mother treating us

User3 okay but when she SANG The Grudge with the tears rolling down her cheeks, poured her whole soul into that

→ User4 omg yes, you could legit feel the pain in your own chest

→ User5 no no no because what about the gasp through her sobbing at The Stranger

User6 nobody can tell me that Obsessed wasn't written as a kelly piquet pov

→ User7 haha literally because y/n has never said a bad word about this woman but she is all up in her business 

→ User8 and all up in her likes too from what i saw

User8 not my delusional ass hoping it’s max and that the lighting just made his hair darker

User9 love how she’s still featured on the wags page despite her and max not being a couple for 10 months now

→ User10 legit. they post her more than kelly

User11 i bet max is kicking himself for letting her go now that someone else has realised how much she’s worth 

FutureF1Wag i need to know where f1 wags got that pic from because it’s SOOO much clearer than the one i got

User12 okay but where can i get a man like that because that kiss looks hawt!

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Nov

YourUserName just posted a new story

lilymhe have the best time, babe. brunch debrief tomorrow?

→ YourUserName 11?

→ lilymhe absolutely 

YourBestFriend oo look at you being treated right 

→ YourUserName i know. how sweet

they're sooo pretty as well

→ YourBestFriend you’ve had bigger though 

→ YourUserName don’t do this today 

→ YourBestFriend sorry. be safe. text me when you’re home 

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Dec

User1 max really said, just because i didn't want her doesn't mean anyone else can

→ User2 be serious, he clearly loves her. he just confused his priorities for a hot second

User3 the way these rumours have been floating since max and kelly went social media official though. like everyone has constantly said they're on the rocks since we found out about them

→ User4 literally. like i loved max and y/n but they've both moved on. people are just creating drama because they can't accept that max and y/n aren't together anymore

User5 no because y/n is literally max's forever after and nobody can convince me otherwise

User6 max and y/n are literally each other's one true love. kelly was just the poison apple that leads to their true love's kiss

User7 y/nstappen shippers rise!

User8 she's watching his races again!

User9 she watched him win!!

User10 @ YourBestFriend is just like us for real. you can tell she's been praying for them to get back together

→ User11 she's feeding us crumbs and we're lapping them up

User12 not red bull down here fighting with us in the trenches

maxverstappen1 just posted

liked by YourUserName, danielricciardo and others

maxverstappen1 FUCK YEAH! WORLD CHAMP! 🥇🇳🇱 a huge thank you to @ redbullracing for their support throughout the whole season. you made all of this possible.

7,330 comments

redbullracing what a season! here's to many more, champ

christianhorner so unbelievably proud of you! enjoy the celebrations

danielricciardo congrats, mate. couldn't be happier for you. looking forward to celebrating later 🍾

landonorris woohoo! my shirt is still wet from your tears

→ maxverstappen1 don't lie. you cried more than i did

→ landonorris true

mclaren well done, max! an amazing achievement

YourUserName congrats, world champ x

liked by maxverstappen1

→ User13 mama en papa

→ User14 not the best phrase to use when the reason they broke up is due to a miscommunication about having children 

User15 omg omg omg, not a drill, guys. the queen has commented. and max liked!! 

→ User16 user we may not get them back together but i’ll take the tiny trickles of friendship they give us

→ User17 same sis same 

→ User18 may our delulus come trululu

YourUserName just posted

liked by maxverstappen1, carmenmmundt and others

YourUserName so i may have just won my first grammy? my ultimate gratitude to @ lovelessofficial for taking a chance on me when no one else would, the biggest love to those who supported me before i deserved it, and a final huge thank you to the inspiration behind the album 💕🦁

9,556 comments

User1 miss thing, looks like you got more than just your first grammy

→ YourUserName it's definitely a nice collection ;)

francisca.cgomes so proud of you, minha linda 🌼

→ YourUserName couldn't have done it without you pouring wine down my neck, kiks

lilymhe that's my girl!!

YourBestFriend wow, look at that dress. it would look better on my bedroom floor

liked by maxverstappen1

lewishamilton amazing achievement, y/n. well done

→ YourUserName thanks, lewis. you raced so well this season

danielricciardo did somebody say celebratory drinks later? 🥂

maxverstappen1 congrats, grammy winner x

liked by YourUserName

→ lovelessofficial thanks for joining us for the celebrations

→ User2 max was at her after party!!!!

→ User3 over a year after their breakup and we might be getting them back together??

User4 the trophies in their house must be overwhelming 

→ User5 love that we’re talking like they’re already back together

User6 'the inspiration behind the album' is so shady and sweet haha, poor max. i love that he'll be forever reminded of how badly he fumbled

→ User7 what makes you think she's on about max

→ User6 um, she wrote the album after their breakup and used the lion emoji, which she always used in posts about him. read the room, babes

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Jan

YourUserName just posted

liked by victoriaverstappen, charles_leclerc and others

YourUserName happy new year's from me and my loved ones to you and yours (yes, he got drunk after this and ruined the rest of my photos)

13,441 comments

User8 omg omg omg omg!!!

User9 they're back together! they're back together! we win!

charles_leclerc beautiful couple. glad to see you both happy again

danielricciardo yuck. i haven't missed the pda

→ YourUserName you're just jealous you can't be our third

→ danielricciardo every day baby

maxverstappen1 i didn’t ruin them! they just become less pg

→ User10 woah, mr verstappen, we were not familiar with you

redbullracing our favourite trophy winning couple. can't wait to have y/n back in the paddock next month

maxverstappen1 looking forward to all that the future brings us, mijn mooie vrouw 🥰

→ YourUserName mijn lieve echtgenoot 💕

→ User11 um, the pet names!!!

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I know some people said on Danny’s that they wanted it to be longer but this are only planned as a duo series. Sorry, guys! 💕

Baby Fever Angst Series

Tag list

@bibissparkles @barcelonaloverf1life @rlalliehayes @dullypully @softtina @callsignwidow @lav3nder-haze @minkyungseokie @luvrrish @fall-bambi @evans-dejong @sadsierra2 @justdreamersdream @spookystitchery @dark-night-sky-99 @majusialikesfastcars @luckyladycreator2 @bborra @mrosales16 @reguluscrystals @tvdtw4ever @alwaysclassyeagle @gigicisneros @spanishcorndogs @thecubanator2 @goldenharrysworld @awritingtree @jxnellat @sbrn0905 @hc-dutch @buckybarnessweetheart @ironmaiden1313 @dreamercrowd @yourbane @reguluscrystals @peachiicherries @g-l-o-b-e-w-h-o-r-e @itsjustmyopinionf1 @evesfile @openthenyoor01 @princessria127 @hrrorflm @the-untamed-soul @nataliambc @oliviarodrigostan13 @sweate-r-weathe-r

As always, so sorry if I missed anyone. Thanks for all your support x

[p3achfilm]

views. eren j.

balcony honeymoon sex! missed my bby ren,enjoy this drabble ₊˚⊹♡ also eren’s colombianooo so he’s talking in spanish a bit!

𝓲ridescent hues blossomed across the sky, painting a masterpiece of colors that seemed to dance and shimmer with every passing moment. the horizon was ablaze with shades of fiery orange, deep magenta, and soft lavender, blending seamlessly into one another to create a breathtaking gradient that captivated the senses. the sun, a golden orb, slowly dipped below the skyline, casting a warm, ethereal glow over the landscape.

seagulls filled the air with their cheerful calls, their voices a melodic symphony that echoed softly against the backdrop of the vibrant sky. their graceful flight, with wings outstretched, created a mesmerizing contrast against the colorful canvas above. each call seemed to tell a story, adding a layer of liveliness to the serene evening, a reminder of the bustling life that thrived even as the day came to a close.

the evening breeze began to stir, carrying with it the mouthwatering scents from the food trucks lining the shore. the delightful aromas of sizzling tacos, freshly made doughnuts, and savory grilled meats blended harmoniously with the salty ocean air, creating a tantalizing mix that would make anyone’s mouth water. the wind was gentle yet full of vitality.

“pa fucking you good princesa?”

you struggle to articulate your thoughts as your head feels heavy, honestly, your whole fucking body feels like it's weighed down. the way eren's relentlessly rocking into you has you gripping the balcony railing, desperately searching for some semblance of stability. his grip on you is borderline painful, his nails leaving indents in your skin, but he's the only thing keeping you from falling over, and he knows it.

his thrusts are relentless, deep and calculated, making sure that every move counts. he's fucking you hard, so hard, yet with so much purpose and care. he knows exactly what he's doing to you and it shows in the way you're unable to string two words together. he's driving you absolutely insane, has been for the last hour, and the coil in your stomach is wound so tightly, you think you'll die if he doesn't let you cum.he doesn't want you to, though, and he's been denying you your release since he's started fucking you on the balcony, and god, it's driving you up the wall.

your breaths come out as a soft "mhm," unsteady and shaky, your head tilting down slightly. "come on, ma, lift your head, look at the view.” eren muses, one inked hand collecting the hair stuck against your strung out face, the other on the small of your back. it's hard to ignore the way his knees buckle as your gummy walls contract around him, swollen pussy lips sucking at his cock.

“you feel me in your stomach?" a particularly forceful thrust sends tremors through your legs, and you cry out, “fuck ren nghgh,” the last word coming out with a choked sob as the head of his dick presses into the spongy skin of your g-spot.

"i'm so fucking deep, look at you baby, taking all of me in that little pussy."

it's too much, eren's voice and his thrusts and the pleasure that's burning inside you is too much, the tight, wet, warmth of him filling you is too much, the way he's gripping the back of your neck is too much, everything is so much, so overwhelming, that tears of bliss start to form in your eyes, threatening to roll down your cheeks. "eren, eren—fuckk!"

you're not sure if it's a response to your cries or if he just noticed how fucked out you are, but eren pulls your hips flush to his and grinds up into you, "oh, i know baby, i know, but you've been so good for me, just a little more, okay?"

a little more?

how can you take a little more, how can you take anything more, eren's so fucking big, you feel so full of him. he's hitting so deep and grinding right against the sensitive spots inside of you, you're so wet and stretched out that his every movement is audible. you can't take anymore, he's too big, you're going to pass out. "i-i can't—i-i can't!" you shake your head and gasp, "can't do it, eren, fuck—ah-fuck!" his fingers grip your hair tighter. "yes, you can, and you're going to. you can and you're gonna cum on my dick, okay?”

it's your honeymoon, and eren hasn't been able to keep his hands off you all day. it started with him waking you up with his head between your legs, thumbing your clit slowly. you had barely opened your eyes when you felt the first wave of pleasure washing over you, eren's tongue working its magic.

"buenos días, preciosa," he had murmured against your doughy thighs, his voice sending vibrations straight to your core. after breakfast, it continued on the kitchen table, plates scattered on the floor as he bent you over, his hands gripping your hips with a possessive intensity. "i can't wait, i need you now," he had growled, thrusting into you with a desperation that matched your own.

now, standing on the balcony, the city lights twinkling in the distance, you feel completely consumed by him. "eres mía, solo mía," eren pants, his pace quickening. "y siempre lo serás." his words are a promise, a declaration.

and you know he’s far from done with you.

[lixies-favorite-cookie]

calling skz clingy headcanons ◦ ot8

Paring◦ ot8 x reader

Words◦ 3,578

Genre ◦ hurt and comfort

Warnings ◦ reader blows up at the boys a few times, mild cussing I think, hyunjin is lowkey toxic in this but the reader is more toxic, honestly all of our boys are pretty dramatic lmao, they keep getting lazier and lazier😭, I fucking hate y/n in this like fr I'm gonna kick her sorry little ass, seungmins is... suggestive...dirty talk and fingering only for like one line, so is hans lmao all happy endings because I am not sadistic... or realistic

Taglist ◦ @thetoastghost222, @ur-fav-lvr

A/N ◦ honestly this is my super random chaotic thoughts I had at 2am bc I was really hating the way I was writing a love lived between the stars and the sea so I wanted to take a small break and clear my pallet I hope you all like it even though it lowkey sucks lmao <33

Also im lowkey fucking with making headcannons this is kinda fun...

~cookiecreates 🍪

chan

I feel like Chan would be the most emotionally mature about the whole thing, especially when he sees the storm brewing in your eyes before you even spit those venomous words.

"Fuck Chris, do you have to be so clingy all the time?" You shout, your mouth curling in a disgusted sneer. 

You've never flinched away from him like that, never been so mean-

He's first hurt then he sees it-

There are cracks in your demeanor; large gashes in your heart; he could read you like an open book; the stories your soul wished to tell resided in your glassy eyes.

Hurt people hurt people.

You didn't think he was clingy; no, you loved his touch. You were simply overwhelmed, overflowing with so many simmering feelings—his love did not have room to shimmy through.

So he makes room-

He tilts your chin up with a sincere voice and asks, "What's the real reason why you are shutting me out?"

The unadulterated dedication in his words leaves you in shambles. 

Chan would tear open his heart before your eyes just to prove that there are openings for your soul to pour all your pain into him.

and he would still find a way not to spill a drop

"It’s so hard,” you sob. “They told me you were too good for me, that I wasn’t enough. They said I should shut you out, run away before I got too attached. I had to make you hate me so that I could never weigh you down again."

Chan is fuming.

He wants to ask who said that? He wants to ask where they live? He wants to ask if you want to witness their destruction? He wants to ask if he should use a knife or a gun?

But instead, he says, ‘Darling, you would have more luck breaking the bounds of the moon than untangling the way you are threaded into my soul."

what. the. fuck.

Chan the next William Shakespeare up in here

...was this based on something I wrote for my new series...yes. am I ashamed... no.

I'm a hopeless romantic who wants to marry a poet.

Sue me.

You never thought the apocalypse would be so rewarding, because you are reeling, spinning out of orbit, a meteor spit out into space, hurling towards unknown destruction—destruction that tasted like fresh morning dew.

Chan was perfect.

what the fuck were you thinking?

He holds you through the night, chasing away the whistling of the cold winter wind, his warm arms creating a home around your heart.

lee know

do not ever ever ever ever ever ever ever call Lee Know clingy unless you are willing to dedicate your life into creating the next wheel of time because after you plant the seed in his head, he will blossom a garden of newfound insecurities.

"Can you please not be so clingy right now? I'm having a really bad headache," you whisper through the thick fog clouding your brain; you have been living with a red hot rod skewed through the back of your brain all day. You didn't mean to say the word clingy, but it is futile to search a thesaurus from a blurry page, and right now the world seems to be nothing more than a piece of abstract art.

He just wanted to hold you and you call him clingy??

To others, the sentence would be like water rolling off their backs, but to him, it was a ragged shard of glass stabbed straight into his chest.

Lee Know is extremely inexperienced in the world of intimacy, often clumsy with his actions—hesitant with his words, so why would you say such a thing?

Knowing how insecure he is??

You would only ever say it if you meant it fully and completely??

Honestly, in his head, he would be lowkey, really dramatic, but he's so beyond hurt, feeling like you're just picking at a gaping wound.

like I said, dramatic.

justified. yes.

dramatic... also yes.

I am a firm believer that his tough-guy act is only that.

an act.

He was pretending like he didn't care what you said, but when he gets into the other room, it takes everything in him not to shatter into a million different pieces, feeling so overwhelmed with how many emotions are coursing through him.

No matter how much you apologize after that, no matter how much you prove what you said was nothing more than your head foggy and in pain, it still will take lifetimes for that scar to fade.

and he will only ever get over it with a million reassurances and a thousand conversations

which you are willing to do as long as he needs it

changbin

Honestly, I dont really have a clue with this one, but I am definitely leaning towards him being more like Chan in the emotional mature way he handles it, but instead of comforting you at the drop of a hat, he just leaves the room and lets you stew on your sorrows.

"Your so clingy," you groan, shoving his arm off; rolling your eyes as the mattress shifts with his weight. You just want to be left alone. You weren't sad. You weren't mad. You were just tired and did not want to be touched.

In perspective, could you have handled it better? Yes, but what can you do now? I'm going to punch this bitch in the face I swear I hate y/n and I'm creating her

He's first very confused, then the hurt hits like a falling star crashing into his chest.

What do you mean he's clingy??

"Fine," he states, still dizzy from the utter whiplash you were giving him.

like what the hell?

Sleeps on the couch that night (bad idea don't do this)

He stews about it far past the dreams in his head

That is, until you trudge out of your bed in the morning with red-rimmed eyes and a face filled with regret.

After a shitty nights sleep without the heat of your boyfriend's arms, you realized very quickly what it would feel like if you were to never feel it again, and all of a sudden, you never want to be left alone like ever again.

The grudge he was previously trying to hold drained out of him, and in that instance, he jumps up, pulling you into his arms.

He is very quick to forgive you, when you voice your reason for snapping at him, was nothing but compressed frustrations manifested into the wrong source.

hyunjin

hyunjin. hyunjin. hyunjin.

I feel like in a fit of both hurt and the toxic trait of self-isolation, he would be petty and stay at the boy's house for a few days.

He had tried to give you a good morning kiss that day, but you were stressed and late for work, rushing to put on your clothes. The way he whined about wanting to be touched ground your gears beyond belief. You got stuck in your shirt, which was too tight after you shrunk it in the dryer, and your firm has yet to give you another one. Hyunjin's flighty hands wrapped around your waist, trying to help you untangle yourself from the mess of fabric, only for the button to get caught in your hair, pain ripping through your scalp.

"Stop it hyunjin!" you shout, attempting to unthread the way your hair has meshed into the slits of the button. "You're so fuckin' clingy."

It was all a mess—your heap of shifting fabric and jerking limbs, hair sticking up at every angle. His heart was crushed somewhere in a pulp on the floor in front of him.

He just wanted to help...

Your red-hot anger quickly bled into a tightening anxiety that pulled underneath your ribs as you imagined the look on your boss's face when you came in disheveled and late.

"I just wanted to help," Hyunjin sniffles, bouncing his eyes around the room, filling with tears. You heartlessly roll your eyes.

"Here come the waterworks," your voice is steady, flaming with annoyance mixed with a sickening tilt of mockery. His jaw drops.

you're being so mean

His ears burn when you glare at him, disgusted by the tears streaming down his cheeks. He desperately wipes his emotions away with the back of his hand, suddenly embarrassed to even be showing you the cracks in his soul.

He runs away, like, quite literally runs out the door, sprinting to his car and driving straight to the group's house, collapsing in a fit of sobs in Chan's arms.

He stays there for a good 3 days, ignoring all your calls and texts.

No matter how much it hurts his heart not to talk to you, he shuts you out in a weak attempt to show you what it would be like to live without him.

But this tactic is short-lived when you arrive at the boys' house, snot sobbing into his chest.

"i-im so sorry," you repeat over and over and over into his skin, hoping the further you dig into his chest, the closer the words will hit his heart. 

He's not going to lie; no matter how much you cry, a little bit of pettiness will still stay during the conversation, a small scar of his hurt dictating his choices.

"Why didn't you come home? I thought we were over?"

"I thought that asking to sleep in the same bed as you would be too clingy"

Your heart cracks. He sees it, immediately regretting all his words.

"I'm sorry!" he yelps, pulling your head straight into his chest again.

You shake your head remorsefully, "No, I deserved that."

Even though so much of him still wants to be petty, his love for you trumps the feeling.

(I'm not forgiving you though wtf)

han (this one is long asf)

Han is freaking out.

I mean like the devil's bony hand gripping at the base of his spine, stale breath wafting down the skin of his neck type of freaking the fuck out.

You had a job that required you to go on-site, on-call often, like Han’s—that’s why you were so understanding about his busy schedule; yours was just as bad.

Today was a nightmare. Your coworker, the devil in disguise, didn't show up for the presentation she had created, and since she threw you under the bus saying you helped her (you didn't), you were forced to come in and present it.

Leaving Han at the restaurant waiting for you to arrive-

You forgot-

It was debatably the biggest presentation of the year, showing off her new design to multiple new investors, and yet your phone kept buzzing.

You told Han this was important

You never sent the message

You don't think you have ever seen your boss so furious

From Han's point of view, he's been sitting here for 2 hours, and you are still not here.

There are so many scenarios flying around in his head—

Are you okay?

Did you stand him up?

Are you breaking up with him?

Did you get kidnapped??

Han got tunnel vision when he was scared, his restless brain shooting out dire scenarios faster than he could decipher the impossibility of them. It was overwhelming. The walls were closing in on him. Nowhere in the world was safe. His head was swimming, the room was spinning, the earth was popping through space.

He keeps texting and calling and voice mailing. The icy anxiety crystallizing in the pit of his core turns his fingers brittle, creaking as he jams them into his phone screen.

He can't breathe.

Too many possibilities.

Untill-

Your boss got fed up with your phone ringing, screaming at you to go answer it since it was clearly more important than your job.

he was a prick

You answer it, the heat of your building anger curdling a deadly brew inside your soul. Without looking at the 200+ messages Han had sent you, you answer the 50th call of the day, immediately hissing into the speaker, "Do you know what you just did, Han? I got yelled at by my boss in the middle of a presentation because your clingy ass can’t exist without constantly needing my attention for more than 5 minutes. Stop texting me." Your finger smashes the end call button before unruffling your skirt and walking right back into the room.

Han feels like he might just melt straight into the seats, the way his whole body burns.

The whole world stops for a moment, the earth bleeding down the walls, swirling into pools of muddy color. He was sinking, lungs filling with the ink of a million different sweltering elements.

He ruins everything.

He was so wholly overwhelmed he could barely crawl into his car, desperately gripping the steering wheel while the earth collapsed in on him.

He ruins everything.

It's almost impossible to get to his house the way his tears blur the road.

(that's actually fr dangerous don't drive while crying)

He ruins everything.

He doesn't cry when you walk through the door.

He doesn't touch you when you run to him, standing over him, huddled on the floor.

He doesn't breathe as you cry over his body, twinkling in and out of consciousness.

He ruins everything.

Your makeup runs down your cheeks as you try to shake him awake.

He fainted in the kitchen. It wasn't uncommon when he was alone during his panic attacks, the anxiety ripping harsh bouts of oxygen from his lungs.

You squish his cheeks together, forcing his lips into a pout, shoving your faces together, pouring unadulterated passion into his system.

He short c i r c u i t s.

"I'm so sorry," you sob against his lips. "I didn't mean to be so mean. I didn't mean anything I said. I was just stressed, and I thought I sent the message telling you not to text me, and I didn't. I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry." Your voice is high and wet, pushing his mouth deeper into yours.

It would be sceintifically impossible for your lips to get any closer-

and yet his tries.

He pulls your trembling body into his lap, fireworks exploding from the ashes where your words had lain.

"So you don't think I'm clingy?" His voice cracks, fresh tears collecting on the outer corners of his eyes. You have never shaken your head so adamantly in your whole life.

"No, never, never ever."

"Then come here."

You two have never been so close before in your life, hearts tangling in your chests as he presses your body into his.

You were going to prove just how much you loved his touch.

:D

felix

Oh Felix, my kind sweethearted boy that deserves nothing less than prince treatment. He’s so kind, even though he’s so hurt. He’s actually scared he’s annoying you, so he makes himself more distant so he doesn’t bother you.

""Fuck, Felix, can you not see I am clearly just trying to relax? I mean, you don’t always have to be up my ass all the time," you snap, curling back up into the sheets Felix ripped off. You were exhausted—there was no excuse; you were just really tired. Felix, being the loving boyfriend he is, wanted to hold you while you slept, but of course, you being the dumb idiot you are, shouted at him.

are you stupid like fr cause like THE LEE FELIX WANTS TO HOLD YOU AND YOU SHOO HIM AWAY

you deserve federal prison

Felix is so many synonyms for destroyed that it should be physically impossible to still be alive with a heart that lies shattered in the pit of his stomach.

Felix doesnt know how to feel sad, angry, hurt, upest, embarrassed.

He just clenches his jaw, trying to keep his bottom lip from trembling.

Felix has always been secretly self-conscious about the way he expresses his love toward people, often being very touchy-feely. He understands that this isn’t everybody's favorite thing and how it can get fairly annoying.

He’s already so terrified you’re going to leave him; he overanalyzes every interaction.

But this interaction did not need to be analyzed to know what you meant. You were very direct about that.

The way your venomous words attached to his stomach, pumping him with poison that swirled his stomach sick.

You don’t apologize when you wake up, not believing you need to justify yourself. He was being clingy, and you had every right to express your opinion about it.

im going to punch this bitch in the face

As surprising as this is, he actually doesn’t cry about it. He doesn’t cry about it because he is so worried that him crying about it would annoy you, so he would rather let his sadness seep into the back of his brain than show you emotions that could potentially turn you off.

Like I said, destructively kind.

He really takes what you said to heart, trying his best not to give you any skinship unless it’s to guide you through a crowded room or pull you away from the bustling activity of the road, holding your hand until you get to your destination.

He actually feels like he can’t function without your touch, but he muscles through it, relishing in the small actions he can get.

He tries to show his love in other little things that aren’t physical touch. It gets to the point where he is so deep in his head he shies away when you try to initiate skinship, terrified he’s going to get back into the habit of the joy of touching you and make himself seem annoying again.

He’s so beyond scared of being a nuisance.

It’s been two weeks with this flighty physical touch, and it all finally starts to click when you notice his smile isn’t nearly as bright anymore and some of the stars in his eyes have faded away.

"I want you to be clingy again, please, please, please. I mean, cling wrap, Kola. If you ever think you’re being too clingy, please hug me a little tighter. I’m an idiot, a complete and utter moron. Really, I should be evaluated on why I am even able to exist in society."

His heart literally bursts so relieved he can finally touch you again.

He gives you the most dopamine-coddling, brain-boggling cuddles known to mankind that night.

Your skin is so close together it feels like there isn’t a part of your body Felix doesn’t occupy.

He has created a home in your heart that no other man will ever stay, where he will rest until the day you fade away.

seungmin

Oh bro is pissed

"You're so clingy," you deadpan as his arms wrap around your waist. You had seen a stupid TikTok prank on your For You page and had the brilliant idea to try it on your boyfriend. But the way his whole body tenses against your skin, muscles rippling underneath your fingertips, you know you are so beyond fucked. "What did you just say to me, baby?"

well you just signed your death certificate

So many ideas brewing in that beautiful head of his-

Like, your ass will be red, your stomach will be painted, your mouth will be filled, and you will be descending into the grave. Like all the rest are lovey-dovey 'I’m sorrys,' no—your sorry will be told on your knees.

He will edge you intill you are teetering on the ledge of oblivion

"You want to cum, baby?" He's so condescending, easily lifting your waist from the sheets, his sticky fingers creating bruises when he pins your legs down to gain more access to ruthlessly abuse your g-spot.

"Yes, Yes, Yes, please," you beg, body trembling on the bed, large qaukes of pleasure rushing through your bones as his mean fingers plunge into your messy cunt.

"But that would be too clingy wouldn't it?"

oh how i want his fingers

(this one is really short bc i hate writing smut but i feel like this would be smutty)

jeongin

I honestly have no clue. I feel like he’d be more confused than anything because, like, me?

clingy?

mf I barely touch you?

Honestly, kind of annoyed more than sad—like pissed that as soon as he wants to touch you, you think he's clingy. But he's like Chan in the fact that he sees past your words and into the anger brewing in your eyes, allowing both you and him to cool off before he says something he will regret.

He just walks out of the room and lets you calm down.

I am also a firm believer that this man is healthy as hell.

He could tell that his heart was starting to beat a little too hard and his head was getting a little too fuzzy with all the raging words he wanted to say. But instead, he just walks away and lets you calm down, then talks to you about it before you go to bed because he is also an extremely firm believer in the fact that you should NEVER go to bed angry.

this one is shorter bc like I'm lowkey running out of motivation and ideas

did you like this? check out my new series a love lived in between the stars and the sea here

or maybe read doomsday here

[woncon]

➳ like a rainbow

➶ stray kids ot8 x gn!reader ｡˚ °

-ˏ` ✎﹏ sometimes it just hurts and you need to cry it out. but don't worry, your boyfriends are here to help you through it.

➴ genre: angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, fluff in the end

: ̗̀➛ warnings: crying, emotional pain

⌨ :: 1.2K words ♡ ︵ . .

⁀➷ i had a sobbing afternoon the other day. i wrote this as a therapy session, and now I'm dedicating this to all the dear Stays who need it! <3

⁀➷ thanks to @wonsheep for helping me fix my grammar mistakes and for giving me advice how to convert a whole story into another language precisely °♡̷•.

➳ stray kids masterlist | main masterlist

You retire to the bedroom. You don't even bother to close the door. You just throw yourself on the bed, and the tears are already flowing. You curl up in a ball and let your heartache take its course.

Today seems to be one of those days.

A day for crying.

You're too weak to get up. You're too tired to think. You’re just hurting and you let it hurt. Maybe if you use up all your tears, it'll be easier.

Maybe.

You embrace your body. Your shoulder shakes. Your whole being gives way to desperate cries. You close your eyes because you see nothing but your own tears, endless. Your heart is pounding loud, crumpled in its cave.

You don't even hear when someone enters the room.

Chan calls you by name, softly and quietly, but as soon as he realizes you aren't sleeping, but instead hiccupping from sobs, he is not subtle, he repeats your name in terror and comes to your side.

"What happened? Who hurt you?" He grabs your face. "My baby? Baby, talk to me. What hurts?"

You cuddle up to him, bury your head in his chest and shake it. You can't talk about this now. You have no words now, only tears, but you cling to Chan's body to let him know that even if you can't articulate it, you need him here. So you don't dig your fingers into the fabric of your sweater, but hold Chan close to you.

Meanwhile Chan is stroking your back, rocking you slowly, trying to soothe you with his kind words, you are still crying bitterly, your own chest unable to suppress the grief that is welling up inside you.

Soon Felix sticks his head into the room. His incomprehension quickly gives way to worry. His eyes widen, his mouth clenches helplessly, and every bitter sound you make creates another crack in his heart. He wants to climb on the bed, cuddle up to you, touch you reassuringly, hoping that his touch, his presence, will go some way to soothe your suffering.

But before he can do that, Chan whispers something to him. Felix doesn't understand at first. He shakes his head.

"Blanket. Hot chocolate. Music. Netflix. Dori," repeats Chan.

Felix nods vigorously, and heads out of the room to hand out tasks to the others. Everyone is committed when they find out how bad of an emotional state you are in. They are eager to do something to cheer you up, if only a little.

Seungmin looks for your favorite blanket. Felix makes the hot chocolate while Hyunjin roasts marshmallows. Jisung and Jeongin take care of the music, one brings the speakers from Chan's studio, the other your favorite playlist. Changbin's forearm disappears into the sofa as he searches for the remote control. Minho lures Dori into his lap to bring him to you.

When their duties are done, they all go to the bedroom and shower you with their kindness. You crawl out the cover of Chan's chest and sit up. You are so struck by all these hopeful faces and loving little things that for a moment you completely forget the pain you have felt, and the mere purpose of your existence is the vibrant gratitude you feel for them. A visceral gratitude for their kindness and love.

"See, little one?" Chan says with a half smile as your boyfriends flood the bed. "You are not alone. You are never alone. If you need it, you can cry on everyone's shoulder because we're here to take care of you."

Chan pulls out a tissue from his trousers and hands it over. You blow your nose. Seungmin spreads the blanket on your legs. Jisung turns on the speaker, then puts it on the nightstand. Jeongin starts the music, and the bedroom fills with rippling melodies instead of your inconsolable crying noises.

"Here." You get the hot chocolate in your hand from Felix. 

As you sip the sweet drink and eat the marshmallows, you feel warm inside. Your tears slowly dry up. 

You feel safe in the ring of your boyfriends on your huge bed as they quietly watch and listen to your wishes and reactions. They do their best to make you feel better, and their efforts alone make you feel better. By being here, being with you, and wanting to help, you know that no matter how much it hurts, they will try so hard to make you not suffer. They will listen or silently embrace you, whatever you need, they will want to give it to you, but they won't let you wallow alone, helpless.

Felix clears the empty mug up with a broad smile. As soon as your hand is empty, Minho immediately puts Dori in your lap. The cat instantly curls up on your blanket-clad thigh, settling into regal comfort.

At times, Dori specifically likes to be around those who aren't exactly in a good mood. He makes it almost a mission to cheer them up. Even now, as you run your fingers through his fur and he purrs contentedly, it's enough to bring a small smile to your tear-streaked face.

"You're like a rainbow now," whispers Hyunjin. You look at him. His eyes are bright with wonder, lips slightly parted. "Your tears fall, but your smile shines. Your face is a rainbow."

Embarrassed, you wipe away the remaining tears with the sleeve of your sweater before they dry completely on your face.

"Thank you," you say. "For taking care of me."

"Of course, beauty. We love you," replies Changbin, handing over the remote. You hold it with the hand you're not using to stroke Dori's soft fur. "We love you so much, you can choose the movie. If you want."

"But we can do other things if you feel like it," Felix adds, caressing your hand. "Anything that makes you happy."

"It's nice like this. Can we stay a little longer here?"

Everyone nods.

You scratch the base of Dori's ear.

"Thank you, really," you whisper emotionally.

"No need to thank us." Much to your surprise, Minho is lying down on your other side, resting his head on your shoulder and sliding up. You put the remote next to Dori and stroke Minho's hair with your free hand, and it seems as if he purrs too. You enjoy that this time you don't have to fight with his tsundere self to get him to cuddle up to you. 

Then your hand is snatched out by Hyunjin, who settles down behind Minho. He plays with it, drawing little hearts on your palm.

“Grandpa, space please!" Seungmin pushes Chan aside so that he can lie at your side. Chan snorts, Minho giggles and you smile.

"My seat's taken," Jisung snorts sadly, nudging Dori, who's sprawled on your stomach.

"You have other seats, Sung," Seungmin mutters, who no longer has such a problem because he's found his place next to you.

“Right!" Jisung gets excited. In the next moment, he leaps at Minho, who moans angrily for a second, but lets Jisung sprawl out and nestle on top of him.

Chan, Jeongin, Changbin and Felix form the other pile. 

You wish you had eight arms like an octopus to touch them all and pull them to you. And then Jeongin smiles sweetly at you, Changbin looks at you lovingly, and you understand that you don't need eight arms, because they are all in your heart, as you are in theirs, be at arm's length, cities or continents apart.

[the20thangel]

The Realm's Jewel

Another Request! Summary: (like an Au where there was no war) The reader is Rhaenyra’s only daughter and Damon’s daughter. She comes to King's Landing but with Benji, whom she married. BUT Aemond loved the reader and thought that when they married, her life with Benji would be horrible. When they show up, she’s very happy and has two little boys that look exactly like Benji. And maybe a little fight scene?

Word Count: 2510

The whole Red Keep was buzzing with excitement; Princess Daenys was returning to Kingslanding after five years away. King Viserys was overjoyed he missed his sweet granddaughter. She was indeed a beauty, with beautiful, long platinum hair and large doe-like eyes that were a gorgeous purple color. She was the eldest daughter of Princess Regent Rhaenyra and Prince Consort Daemon. Twin sister of Prince Jacaerys, she was the realm’s jewel. Everyone in the realm adored the lovely princess, so they celebrated her return. She spent five years away due to her marriage to the Lord of Raventree Hall. When the two were babes, Lord Benjicot and Princess Daenys were betrothed secretly by Princess Rhaenyra and Lord Samwell. Princess Rhaenyra noted that House Blackwood was not a House Paramount but had a great army and fierce warriors. It was a considerable advantage for her own house, and House Blackwood was honored with a princess. 

Daenys and Benjicot met a few times growing up. Unbeknownst to the rest of the court, the betrothed and Prince Jacaerys bonded by playing pranks on numerous Lords and Ladies who visited Kingslanding. Benjicot and Jace created a bond of brothers and, in turn, would sometimes try to play pranks on the princess. Unfortunately for Jace, all Daenys needed to do was bat her doe-eyes and push a pout to have Benji forget everything and follow her around like a love-sick puppy. Jace would tease Benji for it, but Benjicot couldn't care less. Benjicot and Daeny were due to marry each other on their 18th name day, but when Daenys turned six and ten, something changed. 

Viserys declared his wish to see Daenys and Aemond married. Rhaenyra raged at her father, stating that Daenys was her daughter and her daughter's marriage would not be decided by someone else. Viserys grew angry, declaring that he was the King and Aemond was a Targaryen prince; there was no better match than him. As Aemond walked smugly to the training yard, he taunted Jacaerys and Lucerys before shouting to Daenys that they would soon wed and asking her to reign in her brothers. Daenys blood ran cold hearing the news, and she ran to her mother sobbing. She did not want to marry Aemond; her heart belonged to Benji, and she would rather die than be married to someone else. Rhaenyra knew that the only way Daenys could marry her chosen husband would be how she married Daemon, going off and marrying, not allowing her marriage to be broken. Quietly in the night, Rhaneyra prepared Princess Daenys, writing a letter to Lord Samwell, explaining the situation and hopefully allowing her daughter to marry his son sooner than planned. 

In the cover of the night, Daenys flew out on her dragon Sliverwing to Raventree Hall. When the Red Keep noticed the princes' absence and scouts were sent to find the princess, a raven arrived from the Riverlands—stating the Princess's marriage to the Heir of House Blackwood, with the Septon’s stamp of officiality and a Septa’s account of the couple consummating the marriage. Viserys internally fumed, but he knew he could do nothing, only glaring at Rhaenyra, knowing she was the one who helped Daenys leave the Red Keep. 

Aemond was a whole different story. The Prince raged for three days, beating up anyone in his way, upset that the Heir to Raventree Hall stole his princess. He all but commanded his father to let him travel to Raventree Hall and bring back the traitor's head. This caused Viserys rage, stating that he would not risk a war with the Riverlands by killing an heir. Viserys noted that not only would the whole realm rage, but the seven, Aemond’s gods,  would curse him for killing his niece’s husband. Aemond huffed, leaving, and he would wait; he knew Daenys would soon see she made the wrong decision and come back begging for an annul, and they would marry the way the seven wanted them to be. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Five years, and finally, the princess was back for the first-year celebration of her mother’s time as a Princess Regent. The whole court was waiting eagerly in the sides and gallery to catch how married life faired for the princess. Everyone quieted down when two Kingsguards slammed their swords to the ground, calling for attention, as a herald shouted—presenting Lord Benjicot Blackwood, of House Blackwood, Lord of Raventree Hall, and his lady wife Crown Princess Daenys Targaryen, with their two sons, their heir Davos Blackwood and his brother Aenar Blackwood. The whole court gasped when they saw the two four-name day-old sons walking between their parents. Davos wore mainly a red doublet with little ravens on his collar, looking like an exact copy of his father saved for the beautiful purple Valyrian eyes. While Aenar wore a black doublet with little red dragons on his collar, one eye was grey and the other purple, showing off the blood of the First Men and Valyrian running through his veins. They grew more in shock, seeing how Princess Daenys matured into a fine jewel. Her hair was raised in braids and then into a bun, letting a few hair strains frame her face. She walked side by side with her family, caressing a medium-sized bump, signaling that she was expecting another child with her husband, who looked smug, walking into the throne room. 

All four stopped infront of the iron throne, bowing to the Princess Regent, who walked down to hug her daughter and greet her grandchildren. 

The two boys grinned at their grandmother, bowing before they said, “Good morrow, your grace. It's nice to meet you.” 

This caused the whole court to swoon, well, all but the Targaryen/Hightower side of the family, especially Aemond, who fumed those sons and future children should have been his children, not some smug lord. He could not believe his Daenys took this long to return. Was she being held captive, and was her regal persona just that, a persona? He knew he needed to help her escape, and after she and he were married, he promised to treat those boys as if they were his, for they had to be more of Daenys in them than of Benjicot. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As the Blackwood family settled into their suite, Daenys could not help but reminisce about her time in the Red Keep. There were many things she missed at her old home. 

“Wow! Muna, this your old room?! It's bigger than mine and Aenie’s rooms together!” asked Davos as he ran around in circles, causing Benjicot to laugh and pick up his son. 

“Yes, your mother was very spoiled here; she sometimes would act like it too,” taunted Benji as he smirked at his wife, who turned and playfully glared at her husband. 

“You dare lie to our sons, dear husband? Hmm, I will not stand for such lies.” She walks towards her eldest son, kissing him on the crown as she asks the servants to bathe both boys in preparation for the upcoming feast. 

“I only jest, love. You were not that spoiled,” grinned Benji, laughing as Daenys mock gasped, lightly hitting her husband.

“We shall see if I let you sleep in the bed with me at night, then we’ll see who truly is spoiled,” Daenys lightly threatened Benji, the princess grinning as he brought her to his arms and kissed her before the doors opened to bring in the Princes Jacaerys and Lucerys, who then pretended to gag. 

“Ugh, we did not need to see that!” jested Lucerys, jumping on Benjicot’s back, causing the lord to laugh, letting go of his wife as he pretended to wrestle with Luke. Jace shook his head at the two men and walked to his twin, kissing her on the cheek. 

“How was your trip here, dear sister,” asked Jace. 

“Tiresome, with two restless boys and a babe who would not cease kicking every time they felt their father’s hand on my stomach,” stated Daenys, smiling as her husband and younger brother messed around. 

“Then you have two overgrown children here, so what are we to do?” joked Jace, who then shouted, feeling Ben grab him and bring him into the fight. 

“I thought you both came here to warn Daenys not to mess around like children?” questioned Baela walking in with her sister Rhaena, both being betrothed to the Targaryen brothers. 

The men separated breathing heavily as Daenys looked confused, “Warn me? About what?” asked Daenys. 

Luke groaned, “about uncle Aemond, he is still in his ass, thinking that you were stolen from him and that Ben here is a terrible husband to you.” 

Daenys scoffed, “Is he truly into his delusions to think I ever loved him? Anybody with eyes could see how Ben and I acted around each other. There was a reason why House Blackwood was constantly invited to the Red Keep.” 

Jace snorted as the two boys ran into the room, into their uncles’ arms. “Well, not him, so don’t be surprised if he tries to pick a fight with you, Ben.” 

Little Davos smirked uncanny to his father's smirk, “Kepa will just then break his nose, just like he did with the loser Braken when he tried to kiss Muna !” exclaimed Davos, while Aenar cheered. 

The two Targaryen Princes and their future wives gaped, staring at the Lord of Raven Tree Hall, who only grinned. 

“That will be a story to tell when the children are sleeping,” explained Daenys. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The feast was going well, and everyone was enjoying the food and entertainment brought by Princess Rhaenyra. Well, all but one. Aemond kept glaring at Benjicot any chance he had. His glare only worsened when someone complimented the couple or when Benjicot showed affection to his wife. Aemond could have sworn that he once saw the lord smirk at him as he caressed the Princess’s growing belly. Aegon noticed before snorting into his wine that a storm was brewing, and he was much too sober for it yet. 

As the toasts began, everyone was toasting Princess Rhaenyra’s first year of reign or the welcome back of Princess Daenys. Finally, everyone grew tense when it came to Aemond as the Prince rose, staring straight at Daenys, who scowled, pressing herself to her husband. 

“A toast to Princess Daenys; welcome back, my princess. I have missed your pretty eyes all these years, but you are back where you belong. It is truly a shame your sons look so much like their sire. Nevertheless, they will be loved…” started Aemond, smirking at Benjicot, who was becoming upset with each word coming out of his mouth. 

Davos and Aenar were confused. Why was this man saying that it was a shame they looked like their Kepa? Muna always stated that she loved how they looked like him when they asked the question. Alicent was trying to shut Aemond up, telling him to be quiet and sit down, but Aemond only pushed her away. 

“You both should have pure Valyrian blood, but your father stole your mother from me and, in turn, tainted your blood with that of those barbarians blood of the First Men.” as soon as the words left Aemond’s mouth. 

Benjicot angrily rose from the table, which caused Aemond to start walking around, ready to fight Lord Blackwood. The whole table exploded with chaos, and Rhaenyra, Viserys, and Alicent called for order and peace. Jace and Luke each took one of the boys far from the conflict with Baela and Rhaena. Daemon reached his daughter, leading her away for her husband, as Daenys yelled for Benjicot to return. Heleana covered her ears as she pressed her eyes closed, not wanting to see, with lastly Aegon laughing drunkenly at his brother’s stupidity. Lord Blackwood was not called Bloody Ben for nothing. 

As Aemond ran to Benjicot, he took out his sword, swinging it towards the head. Benjicot, who had seen actual conflict and not just training, quickly ducked as he punched Aemond’s face. This caused Aemond's eyebrow to bleed, and he stumbled back. Angered, he threw himself on Benjicot, who in turn grabbed him as they fell to the ground, punching and kicking each other. 

Alicent began screeching as Rhaenyra called for the kingsguard to separate the two. As the guards ran in, Benji was able to get on top of Aemond, and he wildly punched the Prince’s face repeatedly, Ben’s knuckles becoming a bloody mess; he would have continued if he had not heard Daenys distraught yell. 

“Ben, that’s enough; you’ll kill him!,” shouted Daenys as she broke free from her father, running to her husband. 

As Benjicot smiled widely, he raised away from Prince Aemond and threw one last kick. Daenys reached her husband, grabbing his face into her hands. 

“Come back, Ben. You did enough; I’m here,” she whispered as she kissed Benji, who finally exhaled and pressed a small kiss in return. 

“Guards, seize Lord Blackwood, have him whipped for striking Prince Aemond!” screeched Alicent as she tried ordering, growing angry when no one moved. 

Viserys, although weak from the chaos, walked with the help of Heleana. “That’s enough, Alicent; if anything, Aemond should be punished for insulting Lord Benjicot and Princess Daenys and their children. He caused this violence!” 

Alicent gasped, “He is your son Viserys!” 

“That does not excuse him from insulting guests or trying to kill them; get Prince Ameond a maester for his injuries and the rest back to our rooms. No, Alicent enough! Guards take the queen consort back to her rooms, with a tea to calm her.” ordered Viserys as both his daughters led him away. 

Daenys sighed in relief and quietly apologized. She asked her brothers to take her sons to the nursery and led her husband back to her rooms. Once in her chambers, Daenys cleaned up her husband's wounds, mainly his knuckles. 

“Was that all necessarily Ben?” asked Daenys as she cleaned him up. 

Benjicot sighed, feeling only slightly ashamed. He had not meant to cause stress to his wife. “Yes, he insulted our sons, and I grew tired of him thinking you are his when you are mine, my princess, my love, my wife,” said Ben as he kissed her neck. 

Daenys sighed, “I know, but you know how much I hate seeing you injured; it kills me every time.” stated Daenys, kissing him softly on his lips. 

Benji apologized again to his wife, holding her close to him, kissing her crown as he gently rocked them. Daenys sighed in contentment before a mischievous look crossed her face. 

“Although I grew very excited once I saw you winning the fight. You look radiant, my love,” whispered Daenys, her grin growing as she heard her husband growled. 

Daenys squealed as Benjicot flipped her, him in between her legs. 

“One day, your pretty words will not have such an effect on me, my princess,” growled playful Benji as he nibbled on Daenys lips. 

Daenys giggled, “One day, but that day is not today,” grabbing her husband's shoulders as they continued to kiss.

[v6quewrlds]

Dad Joe who accidently hurts their daughter while doing her hair, and he feels bad and comforts her and gives her treats, etc. The reader comes home to the both of them, passed out on the couch, watching a movie with treat wrappers around them. Joe wakes up and explains and comforts him, telling him it was a common accident. Just thought it would be fluffy and sweet.

♡♡♡

joe looked down at his illuminated phone screen. 10 am. he had been at this for an hour and a half already. this was his first time attempting to take care of amara's dark coils alone, and your written instructions were more complex than any playbook he had ever studied.

he had somewhat successfully gotten through the wash routine but the detangling process was a whole different story. he knew he had to be gentle, but it was so easy to get lost in his concentration and accidentally yank too hard.

amara scrunched up her nose and closed her eyes, bracing herself for the inevitable tug. joe took a deep breath and gently pulled the comb through her hair, creating a part down the middle. "perfect," he whispered to her reflection, his voice full of pride.

he picked up the tiny hair ties, each one a vibrant shade of pink, and began to separate her hair into two sections. the first pigtail went up without a hitch. but as he moved to the second section, his fingers slipped, and the comb snagged on a particularly stubborn coil.

"ow!" amara whined, her eyes flying open. tears spilled down her cheeks, and joe's heart clenched. he had been so close. he gently brushed the tears away with his thumb, his eyes filled with apology. he set the comb down and picked her up, cradling her in his arms.

her little body trembled with sobs as he held her, and joe felt his own eyes sting with the pain of knowing his baby was hurt. "i'm sorry, amara," he said again, his voice soft with whispered emotion. "i'm so sorry. did that hurt really bad?"

amara nodded, her chin wobbling as she buried her face into his shoulder. "how about some candy?" joe offered, trying to lighten the mood as he carried her to the kitchen. "it's our little secret, okay?" he opened the pantry and pulled out a bag of her favorite mini reese's cups, the sweet smell wafting through the room.

amara's sobs slowed as she looked up at him with curiosity, her eyes red and puffy. "candy?" she sniffled.

he placed her in the high chair and gave her one of the mini-cups, watching her face light up as she took a bite. he sat opposite her, his eyes watching her expression carefully as they shared the sweet treat. the chocolate stuck to her fingers and her cheeks, but joe didn't mind. it was a small price to pay for the small giggle that escaped her mouth.

with renewed patience, joe began to braid the second pigtail, taking his time with each strand. his large fingers worked deftly, despite their size, as he carefully shaped amara's hair into the style nyla had taught him. the kitchen grew quiet except for the sound of their munching and occasional giggles as joe tickled her neck with the end of the braid.

"all done, pumpkin, wanna take a look?" joe held out his phone, the camera app open and ready to capture the moment. she nodded eagerly, her eyes wide with excitement.

he snapped a picture of her with her new hairstyle, amara's smile was a mix of joy and relief, her eyes shining with excitement to show her mommy. "look how pretty you are," joe said, his voice full of pride as he held up the phone for her to see. she beamed back at him, a chocolate smear on her cheek adding to the charm of the moment.

they cuddled on the couch, joe's strong arms wrapped around her as they watched her favorite cartoons. the comforting embrace helped soothe any remaining sting from the hair-pulling incident. her head lolled onto his shoulder, and he felt her breathing even out as the sugar rush from the candy began to wear off.

joe's eyes began to droop, his eyelids growing heavy with sleep. amara's soft snores grew louder, synchronizing with his own deepening breaths. he knew he should clean her up before you returned, but the warmth of her tiny body pressed against his own was too comforting to resist. soon, they were both fast asleep, their snores echoing in the quiet room.

the door creaked open, and you stepped in, your sneakers squeaking against the hardwood floor. the sight before you made you smile, despite the mess of hair products scattered across the table. joe and amara slept peacefully, with chocolate smudges on amara's face and the brown wrappers of the mini reese's cups scattered like confetti around them.

you couldn't help but chuckle at joe's expression - a mix of exhaustion and contentment. it wasn't often you saw your husband so at ease. here he was, snoring lightly, his chest rising and falling with the same rhythm as your daughter's.

setting your groceries down, you took out your phone and snapped a few photos of the two of them, capturing the tender moment and sending it off to the grandparents' groupchat. the image of joe's gentle embrace, amara's head nestled into the crook of his neck, was one you knew would be framed and cherished. despite his grumbling about your complicated hair care instructions, he had clearly risen to the occasion.

[lillie98]

You Can’t Be What You Can’t See.

Positive, authentic representation means the difference between feeling like an alien in your community and discovering your identity. I’ve been on this journey for the last four years. Diving into media, my past, and other autistic creators to put together some semblance of what it means to be me. A large piece of that puzzle snapped together last year after watching Stranger Things Season 4, specifically the Painting Scene. I could not wrap my head around why Mike didn’t take the time to comfort Will as he cried or why he didn’t seem to understand Will was talking about himself. I thought back on his whole characterization and what I would have done in that situation, and the lightbulb dinged: Mike is autistic…just like me.

It was an overwhelming moment of joy, understanding, and identity that not only did we share the same diagnosis, we practically share the same brain. Since then Autistic Mike has taken over my mind and taught me more about myself than any doctor. I’ve explored him through my writing and used his (eventual) relationship with Will as something to aspire to, that maybe someday my Will will come for me. Someone to accept, love, and understand every part of me. It is incredibly healing and life-giving and I’m so thankful for everyone involved in creating such a beautiful story. When Bhavna announced she had opened commissions for her art, I knew I had to have this turning point in my life memorialized. We worked together for about a month to come up with this piece and I could not be happier. I sobbed when I saw the preliminary sketch—I finally felt seen.

All that to say, never be embarrassed about something you love. There is someone out there who needs to see it’s okay to exist. Please enjoy Mike’s latest DnD info-dumping session while his boyfriend, Will, looks on. It’s late, they should be in bed, but Mike can’t stop and Will’s too infatuated with Mike’s happiness to make him. The world is a little too loud, so Mike donned his headphones, and Will loves the way they relax Mike and allow him to process the world a little easier. Thank you, Bhavna. Happy Stranger Things Day. ❤️

[warandpeas]

Here’s the part where we have to do that uncomfortable thing that feels a little awkward and self-promotional and vaguely transactional. But it's also unavoidable if we want to continue existing in any capacity that remotely resembles the version of us you’ve come to know.

The reality is that while thousands, even millions, of people might enjoy our work every week, “enjoy” doesn’t necessarily translate to “support” in any kind of literal, sustainable sense.

We don’t get paid by Instagram or Twitter or any of the faceless platforms that we pour hours of our lives into. No passive income streams quietly flowing in while we sleep. There’s just... this. Us, making things we love, for you to enjoy, and the hope that some of you—just a few—might feel moved to help keep the whole thing afloat.

This isn’t a sob story. It’s just a small reminder that art���any art, really—doesn’t materialize out of nothing. It comes from the hours and effort of real people who would love, in a perfect world, to keep creating without interruption. But the truth is, without Patreon or something like it, we’d be spending those hours doing other things. Uninspired things like manning a cash register or whatever else you’d imagine when you think of what happens to people who aren’t lucky enough to… create.

PS: https://www.patreon.com/warandpeas

[1920sladydectective]

Best Friend's Mother Ch.4 3.9K

Here's chapter four of the @shinyshayminflower prompt story!

I hope you like it! Love you lots and lots, you can find the other parts on this account or on AO3.

Angst and Feels, no smut for this chapter.

Not again? You were going to throw up. You knew she didn’t love you, but you were foolishly surprised she had fucked Mel’s friends before. 

“Why?” Mel’s tipsy voice was hoarse, eyes shining as she looked between you, “Why couldn’t I have one thing that was mine”

You wanted the ground to swallow you, you wanted to kill Ambessa, you wanted to word vomit apologies and explanations. Your tongue was lead in your mouth. 

“Mel,” Ambessa’s tone was neutral.

“And it had to be her,” Mel whimpered, “because who other than the only best friend I’ve ever had? Only the best for Ambessa Medarda,” 

“I’m so sorry, it’s my fault too,” It ripped from you, suddenly spurred into action,”God, I-I, Mel I love you,” 

Her eyes darkened, a stuttered breath, “And that’s why you stuck your tongue down her throat, is it?”

“No, no,” Your whole world was falling apart, “I didn’t want this to happen, you’re my best friend,” 

Her bitter laugh killed you. You stood there, slaughtered, as the two Medardas began to argue in hushed tones. As quickly as her fight had ignited, it had died a distraught death. Alcohol and anger merging to create a half person. You barely caught what was said, though Mel’s muffled sobs were obvious, as was Ambessa’s motherly tone. 

It felt like a joke, some bad sitcom. Your lips were still warm, smudged crimson. 

She had moved off of you, swaying towards her daughter as if to calm her. Hushed whispers swirled around you. You lent, shivering and destroyed, against the fridge as they held one another. Their relationship would survive, of course it would, they were mother and daughter. They had a place for one another in their hearts. 

Where did that leave you then? Chopped liver, used and discarded at a moment’s notice. It was clear that this was not going to be discussed properly tonight, so you were an unnecessary detail they had shelved for later. Water sloshed about in your vision, sharp feedback ringing in your ears. 

Icy hands wiped pathetically at stray tears as you gulped, walking around the kitchen island with a slur from your lips about leaving them to it. You had the good sense to pat an incoming Rictus on the shoulder. 

“Lock the kitchen door,” It was hurried, “Mel and Ambessa are having a bit of a moment,” 

“And you?” His quiet tone made you gulp. 

“I am going to bed, tell Kino I drank too much and started throwing up so you helped me to bed,” 

“Yes Miss,” He’d never called you Miss before.

Unsteady, foal legs propelled you up the stairs as you sucked in small, stifled gasps for air. The sight of your room dropped you into the abyss, vision blurring as everything dialed to a thousand. This was it. You were so beyond fucked. It took black spots dancing around your eyes for you to remember to breathe, nails cutting your palms as you rocked back and forth on the plush carpet. 

Her face, shattered and pleading, was burned against your eyes like an old TV screen. Permanently fixed, the colours faded and warped. She had been so quick to hate her mother, her fury for you burning slow and low as it waited in the wings. You were no fool, a cat fight and some wine was not going to solve this. She had chosen you, allowed you into all areas of her life, and you had obliterated that trust, whether it had been your intention or not. She would never know how much you cherished her for now each word would be laced with guilt, rendered insincere upon arrival with little more than a cursory glance. 

Then, bitterly, your heart remembered Ambessa. You had never been special, had never been anything and you hadn’t even been the first. Mel had trusted you despite her mother’s history, because it was you and you were her best friend. You deserved every bad thing, grunting as your palms crushed your streaming eyes in an attempt to staunch the flow. None of this had gone to plan. You couldn’t understand why she’d kissed you in the first place, the memory of her kind eyes like a hot poker to the heart. You’d ended it, later than you should have, but you’d done the right fucking thing. 

Stripping naked, you crawled under the spray of icy water. It dulled you, skin becoming numb to the shower’s harsh droplets. Your cries were silent, measured, as if afraid to take up too much space. Golden glitter rotted away to reveal the monster underneath. You stayed like that for longer than was healthy, delirious limbs pulling you out as you drifted in and out. Cosy, fluffy pyjamas warmed you through as you sat, silent and empty on the bed staring at your laptop screen. 

Ever practical, you had shoved it all down in favour of a plan. First of all, you needed new student accommodation. There was no way Mel would want you living with her now and you needed to get ahead of that curve. You were sitting in a Manor house, scrolling through spare room listings like a zombie. It was three days till Christmas. You wanted to disappear. 

At some point you passed out, body slumped and shattered. 

Flecks of sunlight woke you, throat dry and face stinging. On autopilot you got ready for the day, and then just kept going. All your things were neatly folded, stuffed into a tired suitcase and sealed away. You would give Mel whatever conversation she needed and then you would leave, because it was what was necessary. 

Mel had sent you one text. Seeing her name made you dizzy. 

Breakfast Table, 10am. 

                                      Be right down. 

The house was empty save the three of you, you would learn. Rictus had dragged a hungover Kino out to facilitate this chat. You arrived in the kitchen to Mel and Ambessa sitting quietly side by side with mugs, one for you placed on the opposite side. 

A united front, two against one. Fantastic. How the fuck was that fair? What happened to how could she? 

“Morning,” You hated how unsteady your voice sounded, sitting primly in the wooden chair. 

“Sleep okay?” Mel asked, eyes unsure. 

You would have rathered if she called you a Cunt. Pleasantries had no place here. “FIne,” 

“Shall we start then?” Ambessa said, gaze focused on her daughter. 

Like it was a business meeting, and you? Their troublesome employee. 

It started rather structured, Mel had access to more facts than you’d anticipated. You were clearly not important enough to be there at the start of this conversation then. She knew when it started, when it stopped and when it started again. She was pragmatic and clearly emotionally dissociated, the events of the past twelve hours wrecking you all. You fought back a bit there, there was no restarting. 

“She kissed me,” You grumbled, barely able to look at her. 

“You kissed back, quite hard” It would have been teasing, your mind wished it was. 

“Mum,” Mel’s voice was clear, her look piercing. It was hard to gauge the dynamic here, they were on the same side but Ambessa faced far more aggression than you did. Repeat offender problems, perhaps.

“Neither of you cared about how this would make me feel,” It was the same tone from the night before, cutting harshly from a sober mouth.

“I did,” You cried, hands beginning to tremble again, “I do,” 

“If you did, you would have told me months ago,” Mel snapped.

“I know,” your gaze was distant, trapped in memories, “I made the wrong choices and have no excuse for them,” 

“We’ve both made mistakes Mel,” Ambessa’s tone was honey, “We love you, we want to know how to move past them,” 

Her use of ‘we’ made you twitch. As always, she had no problem speaking for you. Still, it seemed she was searching to heal your relationship with Mel as well as her own. Your heart glowed, you shoved it in a safe. 

“You can move past them by keeping your hands to yourself, Mum,” She snapped. In another, better timeline you would have giggled. 

Ambessa simply leaned back, taking a swig. 

“I just want to know why she did it,” Mel muttered, more lost than you’d ever seen her as she turned to you, “Mum I get, she’s done it before, but why did you?”

It was the worst question to ask, because you’d realised somewhere in those wallowing autumn nights that the love had bloomed even before she bent you over that island. Your motivator had always been love and that felt more pathetic than anything. It was the first time you looked to Ambessa on purpose, eyes panicked, yearning for even a dust speck of the comfort she was giving Mel. To your ultimate surprise you found it, crinkled eyes steady and holding you up just for a second before they looked away. That was the final nail in the coffin. 

Mel saw it before you even attempted words. You subconsciously braced for screams or laughter, but were met with a pained gasp. 

“Oh no,” Mel’s voice was soft, pitying “You didn’t,”

“Spare me,” It was a scoff, the cry of a wounded animal, “I know how stupid I am, kay?”

“Mum, go check on Mina,” Mel’s voice was dismissive, practically shoving a protesting Ambessa away. 

Ambessa left begrudgingly and the scales shifted, evening out. 

She didn’t speak for a long time, her face fixed in contemplation. It was the same face that crafted winning debates, negotiated designer deals and commanded attention of your student house chore chart. Each moment dragged, your eyes unsure where to stay as you grappled with your life. Was she going to tear you to shreds? Dismissing Ambessa so there were no witnesses to your murder? Or worse, was she going to outright admit that she despised you. 

“You fell in love,” It’s said in a hushed whisper, like gossip shared in a lecture hall. 

Your lip wobbled, the tsunami threatening to make itself known, as the plainness of the truth was said by the one person you’d wanted to tell. “Yeah, yeah I did,” 

She was on you in an instant, warm arms pulling you against her as you froze in place. 

“That was fucking dumb,” She huffed, her own voice watery, “Even dumber that you did it alone,” 

You gurgled in tears, laughter forced out as you looked at her incredulously. She was actually comforting you, as if this was normal. She was better than either you or Ambessa deserved and as she rocked you, you waited for the other shoe to smack you in the face.

“I hate you right now,” 

“Makes sense,” You sniffed, wanting to block the sound of those words out forever. 

“But right now doesn’t mean forever,” She huffs, trembling fingers taking your own, “Just need time to be furious, time to grieve I suppose,”

“I’ll give you whatever you need,” It was a babble now, “I’ll move out obviously and I c-can head home, you deserve a nice Christmas,” 

She looked at you like you’d grown a head, “No babe, none of that will be happening actually,”

“But,” 

“You have hurt me in an indescribable way,” Her voice was firm now, as if she were adult and you were child, “But I have decided I want you in my life despite that, and you are going to respect that even if you don’t understand it,” 

“I really, really don’t,” You squeaked, “But I’ll try, I want to earn your trust Mel, more than anything,”

“That’s good, because it’s Carol Concert Day and I would hate to sit next to Kino instead, he’s always so fidgety,” 

Fuck. Kino. Your face must have betrayed your panic. 

“Mum and I decided we won’t tell him, this,” She gestured between you and the space her mother had occupied, “died last night and therefore is irrelevant,” 

“Okay, whatever you want,” 

“It might also help things if you have a chat with Mum, actually talk about whatever’s happened,” 

“Easier said than done,” Your stomach twisted, “It’s a mess,”

“Try for me?”

Manipulative posh brat. You loved her. You’d do anything she asked, “FIne,” 

“I’m sorry you love her,” Mel said, gaze settling somewhat “It’s a shitty place to be,” 

You gave her the space she requested, finding the Matriarch supreme with Mina who was uncharacteristically quiet. 

“An olive branch?” You were actually holding out an olive flavoured breadstick, a hastily grabbed prop. You were staring down the barrel of a gun, unsure if it was loaded. Involuntary, awful Russian Roulette. 

She took it with a raised brow, offering you the chair you were already lowering yourself into, “How was that?”

Your rattling chest finally took in a full breath, “She wants to be my friend,” 

“You sound surprised,” 

“I am,” a cough, “and grateful and surprised I still have a head,”

“I was thinking much the same,” Mina crunched the end of the breadstick slyly, “Right, unacceptable,” she was flung off and it was as funny as always. God, you wished she was more awful somehow, make it easier. 

“And you? Seemed I missed a lot of the conversation,” 

Ambessa hummed, “I saw no point in lying to her, and this was regrettably a familiar conversation for us, it was better she learnt it from me, I am easier to be furious with,”

It felt stupidly chivalrous, like she’d done the heavy lifting so you could reap the rewards. Your assessment of how things would pan out had been so wrong you were half certain you were still in that room, looking through house listings. 

“Feels good to get it out?” You didn’t care about her answer, though you found you couldn’t not ask.

“Oh yes,” A snort, “It feels brilliant to be utterly degraded by your own child,” 

“You deserve it,” 

“I know,” Her tongue clicked, body tired.

“She wants us to patch it up,”

“Patch what up, the casual sex or the emotional turmoil?” 

“Don’t mock me,” Anger flared, dark and red. 

“I’m not,” A weathered sigh, “I respect my daughter enough to take this seriously, Darling,”

It was the worst thing she could have said. There was no respect for you, yet again. No desire to actually hear you, just a wish to please Mel. You were a middleman now to her, your feelings important if they impacted her child. 

“Well, we had a fun summer fling,” You were distant now, “It ended poorly for me, as usual for you I take it?”

She at least had the decency to wince at that, an almost disbelieving nod. 

“You tried to reignite something, I refused and then, like a fucking demon, you kissed me anyway,” 

“You kissed me back,” 

“So you said,” 

“Pushed me away too, well done,” 

“It was a test?” You wouldn’t have been shocked if she nodded. 

“That’s dramatic, even for me,” She licked her lips, “It was a lapse in judgement,” 

“Have a lot of those, do you?”

“Around you, yes,” It was lighthearted, eyes tempting as ever. This was not what patching it up meant, your tell tale heart shining through the safe’s cracks. 

“I think I hate you,” It was gentle, confused. 

“I have that effect on people, Sweet Girl,” 

You made an agreement to actually stick to the odd friendship you’d gained. Your priority was Mel. Her priority was Mel. A common goal that pushed you through the sticky residue of the remaining tension. 

Pushed you through that is. Ambessa Medarda, eyes fixed on your tentative smile, was firmly on the other side pondering something awful. She knew you were a problem. 

Kino returned, shaky and none the wiser, stumbling into the library. 

“There you are, Princess,” He called happily, “Glad to see you’re still alive after last night,”

Oh Kino. You don’t know the half of it, you idiot. “Thank Rictus, he held my hair back,” 

“He just took me on a boys breakfast,”

“A what?” You bit your cheek, your eyes meeting Ambessa’s bemused ones.

“I dunno,” He scratched his head, “Said he’d missed me, was really nice actually,”

You were nodding to compensate for the laughing rushing in you, she was doing the same.

“Fantastic!” You said in unison, as he pulled up a chair and crushed any remnants of your conversation. 

The rest of the day was smooth, surreal in its normalness. You were giving Mel space, but that wasn’t all that different to how you normally wandered about the place. The few presents you had managed to buy, now unpacked from your destroyed exit strategy, were placed under the tree and you got through a couple of hours of work before it was time to leave. 

Mel curled into you on the train, eyes fixed on the outside world rushing past though her thumb did its usual rhythmic strokes. The barriers your actions had placed sliced at you, bit by bit. Still she reached through them, cutting herself too, in an attempt to mend what you had broken. 

The Royal Albert Hall was picturesque, Christmas cheer infectious as you sat in your box. The view was unparalleled and yet they didn’t seem to fussed, messing about with the food and drink on offer. Fucking rich people. A little plate was handed to you by Ambessa, all your favourites plus things she thought you’d like to try. You nodded. It was actually normal, well your new normal. It made Mel smile, proof that you’d done as she asked. 

Carols in a place such as this were transcendent, wrapping you in comfort and applying balm to your battered mind. Kino and Mel were insistent on irritating each other, flicking at hair and chattering at each other before Ambessa smacked them both on the arm. You received a smile. You were the golden child, enjoying the music calmly whilst the others squibbled. 

Ambessa couldn’t keep her eyes off of you. You were much more interesting to watch. The music was known to her, but your reaction to it was a strange new delight. Stolen smiles she would hide behind sips of wine and hesitant coughs. She did respect Mel, loved her in a way that she had long since grappled with as all consuming, and yet she just could not look away. It made her stomach churn, each meeting of your gazes a zap of electricity to her chest. She was privileged to receive some of your quips, a calmness settled over you in the aftermath of destruction and you had taken to the changes like a duck to water. She didn’t know whether to be awed or worried, so she settled for the pulsing, confusing beat in the middle. 

You and Mel spoke quietly on the train home, some fibres knitting back together as Kino attempted to argue with his mother about why Die Hard was a Christmas film. She was showing you some furniture she wanted to buy for your house and it was domestic and safe and only slightly off. You hated the armchair and you knew that she knew that. 

“Looks great,” You lied meekly, “Love the colours,” 

“Thought you would,” She smirked, “I’ll order it now then, and the matching blanket,” 

“Awesome,” 

She started to laugh,”Are you just my bitch now?”

“I can cope with an ugly chair,”

“And cope you shall,” She showed you the delivery confirmation, phone pushed forward proudly. 

Bugger. You’d hoped she was bluffing to fuck with you. Your slow grimace made her laughter louder, and you flicked her with the lid of your Diet Coke bottle. 

Christmas Eve had arrived. 

It was a day filled with energy, board games and gingerbread houses. You learnt you were shit at biscuit engineering, unable to keep two walls standing let alone a whole house. Rictus had rescued you, the Medardas too caught in their own projects. With a steady hand he assembled the gingerbread flat pack and laid the piping foundations for your chocolate buttons and sprinkles. Yours looking shit would have been funny, if it weren’t for the masterpieces before you. 

Ambessa felt that odd buzz again, eyes raking over your shaky hands as you tried to pipe icing, or reposition walls. You seemed to naturally excel at everything she had seen, so watching you fail was almost cute. Your frustration took over your face, eyebrows scrunched with an open, wincing mouth. 

“Now, what the hell?” 

Kino snorted, adding the final touches to his stained glass windows, “I don’t think art is your calling, Princess,” 

“Or architecture,” Ambessa added with a smile.

“I think it’s good babe,” Mel said, squeezing your shoulder, “In the same way a five year old’s would be I guess,” 

“Rictus?” You said hopefully. 

“You can’t ask for my opinion, I did most of it,” He snorted, fixing a window pane across the room. 

Your gingerbread house was sacrificed to be eaten, the others deemed too sacred. It did at least taste good, Kino had said. You’d then bitten him on the arm, suggesting it would be a miracle if he tasted better than he looked. You were separated, Mina placed between you like a barrier. 

As the hours grew later, you drank your tea and prepared for bed. You were promptly stopped at the stairs. 

“We haven’t prepared for Christmas, into the living room,” Ambessa gripped your arm, pushing you into the space. 

Mel and Kino stood, wide smiles on their faces, organising a little plate. 

It had mince pies, a cookie and a glass of milk on it. 

“What are you doing?” It slipped out incredulously. 

“If we don’t do this, Mum doesn’t give us our presents,” Mel said.

“I don’t give you anything, Children,” Ambessa said, outraged, “That’s his job,” 

“Where’s the thimble of port?”

Kino placed down a large wine glass, rolling his eyes, “Father Christmas prefers a full glass apparently,” 

“Yes he does,” Ambessa smirked, before turning to you, “And can pop down the reindeer’s carrots,”

You looked at her, disbelieving eyes boring into her gleaming irises, “Why would they need carrots? I’m sure they’ve had enough already,”

Her eyes darkened, “They have a long evening ahead of them, do you want them to get exhausted halfway through? What if every house thought as ridiculously as you? What if they’re running on empty?”

You barked a shocked laugh. Of all people, Ambessa Medarda was not someone you anticipated continuing this tradition into her children’s adulthood. Grabbing some carrots, you left them next to Mel’s plate. 

“Happy?” You gestured grandly. 

“I’m sure Rudolph will be overjoyed, Dear,” She walked over kissing you each on the forehead, with a tenderness that startled you, “Now, off to bed little wolves or he shall leave you with an empty tree,” 

The tree already had presents underneath it, placed by the three of you. You hadn’t consciously clocked the lack of hers. 

You felt fuzzy, overwhelmed by Christmas and the first tendrils of contentment that had been unburdened by your lies. A long road lay ahead, but if Mel’s conspiratory giggle as she grabbed the open port bottle and tugged you to her room was anything to go by, you were going to make it out the other side. 

“Hey,” Mel said, passing the port back to you to finish, “What’s the time?”

You grabbed your phone, arms wobbly with intoxication. 

12:02am

“Merry Christmas!”

[notjustjavierpena]

I just wanted to come on here and say that I really appreciate you choosing to write about wife’s strained relationship with her family. As someone also struggling with that part of their life it’s beautiful to see that even if one part of your life is not great one can find beauty and love in another and create their own family.

The life that Javi and Wife have build together is an immense privilege to read.

Solace (Drabble)

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Hi anon, I have gotten a few of these messages a few times and it makes me wonder if they are from the same person. If not, it feels incredibly privileged to give people this kind of comfort through fiction. I tried writing a little drabble for you, and I hope that you like it. I’m so sorry that your family cannot see how amazing you are 💖

Summary: A certain kind of sorrow hits you when you are alone with your infant son for the first time.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: Angst, hurt/comfort, exploration of strained relationship with family, non-descriptive talk about emotional neglect, kisses, tears and eternal love.

Word count: 1.5k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52937182/chapters/152266855

Solace

It’s been a long day. That’s all there is to say when Javier walks through the door with a cheerful smile as he sees you on the couch, cross-legged and rocking newborn Lucas in your arms as he sleeps soundly.

It has been a week of being trapped inside a blissful baby bubble together, cocooned in the wonder of being a family of three for the first time. However, today the reality of everyday life has finally caught up with you both. It has been the first time you have been without your husband here to help and at the same time, you haven’t been alone with your thoughts since earning your new role as a mother yet.

You hate to see Javier’s smile falter as tears fall from your eyes in relief from seeing him, have never wanted to be the reason he doesn’t smile when reunited with you and his baby boy. It has probably been on his mind since he locked up the sheriff’s office.

He doesn’t say a word, just drops his bag and crosses the room in what seems to be only a few long strides. When he reaches you, he drops down to one knee on the floor next to you on the couch. He is so sweet when he brushes a tear from your cheek, catching one that threatens to drop onto Lucas’ onesie too.

“You did so well today,” he praises softly, switching to use the back of his hand when several teardrops start to roll down your already streaked face. He finds that it isn’t enough and quickly unbuttons the sleeve on his dress shirt with his teeth to use the fabric to dab your face dry, “Shh, baby, I’m here now.”

You wish it was only the exhaustion of being alone with Lucas the whole day that was bearing down on you but it is not. Instead, it is a much deeper ache that has racked through your body and soul today, an ache that you’ve known for years and do not know how to soothe.

“I missed you,” you whisper to Javier. You let out a shaky breath, trying to hold it together in case a sob will disturb Lucas in his sleep. He sleeps on so peacefully, completely unaware of the overwhelming emotions in the room. You reach to run your finger over his little cheek, admiring the faint dark hair on his head.

In front of you, Javier pushes himself off the ground to sit beside you on the couch. He looks at you with a gentle understanding in his eyes and then down at his son before wrapping an arm around your back. You tilt your head to rest it on his shoulder, becoming more aware of his warmth.

“I missed you too, Mamá. You’re exhausted, let me take him,” he whispers back, rubbing your arm soothingly, “Has it been that crazy today?”

“No, it’s been fine,” you say quickly because it is the truth; Lucas is an easy baby compared to so many stories that other people have been telling you in preparation, thinking that they’re being helpful. You gently make the transfer, careful not to drop his head and shift him into Javier’s arms, “He’s been so good to me.”

“But?” Javier cradles his infant son in his arm while the other still wraps around you.

“But I didn’t expect… to miss my mom,” you reply with shame coating your voice. You feel Javier’s hand stop tracing your arm, his body pulling slightly away from you to look at you properly. There’s a questioning look on his face, furrowed brows.

“Your mom?” He asks in confusion.

“Yeah, well… not her, clearly,” you clarify with a little embarrassed smile that won’t convince anyone that you’re not hurting from saying it like that, “I just realized how alone I am in this. And I’m not saying that you’re not doing enough but… I just wish I had a mom who was different.”

Javier doesn’t reply for a moment, patiently waiting for you to elaborate without judgment on his face. You swallow thickly, “I’ve been alone all day and I kept wishing she could be the kind of mother who would come over and hold Lucas while I take a nap, who would reassure me that I’m doing it right, that I’m a good enough mom.”

You hear Javier say your name softly while you look down into your lap, a feeling of relief and sadness mixing together in your chest. It feels good to say it but it doesn’t fix the gaping pain in your heart of what could have been. You pick at your fingers and finally, tears start to fall down onto your shirt, no longer able to drip onto your baby, “I just… It would have been really nice to have had a mom who felt like I feel about Lucas.”

Javier drags you closer. You automatically curl up beside him, pulling your legs up onto the couch and turning your body towards your husband. You reach out for Lucas to brush a hand over his stomach, his little mouth hanging open and his chest moving steadily.

“I look at Luke and I just instinctively think that I would do anything to keep him from hurting. Why didn’t she feel like that? Why did I get the mom who hurt me?” You babble through silent tears, once more keeping a sob at bay for your son, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t even sit here and complain. I know it’s not fair— at least, I have a mom, and you—“

Javier’s fingers that have been resting on your arm slide up to cradle the side of your head, guiding you to fall carefully into him until he can press his lips to your temple. He takes a breath and sighs, “You’re not all alone in wanting more. We can both grieve what we didn’t have. Even if it’s for different reasons.”

“I know,” you look down at Lucas with softening eyes, wiping a few tears away but they’re just replaced with new ones, “But what if I am bound to become her? I sometimes feel like she’s contaminated me.”

Yet as you have said those words, Lucas makes a noise in his sleep and you are on him in less than a second. You reach to put your finger in his small flexing hand, a rush of dopamine flowing through you from merely touching him. You smile through tears.

Javier says your name again to get your attention. He also shifts slightly so he can lift your head by your chin, eyes sure as he talks, “How you feel… I know I can’t fix it, but I can tell you that you are the mom he needs and deserves. Every worry or sleepless night you endure for him is proof of that. You are doing so well by just being there.”

“Javi,” you whimper with a trembling voice.

“I’m not done. Listen to me,” he interrupts you before you can tear his words apart, “He’ll never wonder how much you love him. Not with the way you’re looking at him right now, not with how you reach for him the second he needs you. You think you are your past? If anything, you’ve taught me the exact opposite.”

His hand lets go of your chin to cup your chin. He brushes a tear away and leans in to rest his forehead against yours. You finally find the right words when you’ve released a breath you didn’t know you were holding, “That’s how I feel about you. That I never doubt how much you love me, not with how you’re looking at me right now.”

Javier smiles at you and you feel your heart flutter, nearly melting into the cushions as he replies, “Tú y yo para siempre, mi amor (You and me forever, my love).”

“Thank you,” you whisper and the tears on your face turn into gratitude in an instant. You give him a soft kiss on his mouth before the two of you sit in comfortable silence for a while on the couch together.

Lucas starts to stir fifteen minutes later. His tiny face scrunches up before he opens his mouth and lets out a soft fuss, yawning with the whole of his body. You reach instinctively for him but Javier tuts at you.

“Let me take care of him for a while, Mamá,” he says with a tone in his voice that always reassures you. Despite the intense desire to protest, you can feel your body already giving in at the idea of getting a break and the emotions from just a moment ago have tired you out.

“Okay,” you nod hesitantly and it earns you a loving kiss from your husband before he gets up. As he leaves you to sleep, you can hear him murmur softly to his son, mentioning you in the midst of his one-sided conversation. It sets it in stone; everything will be just fine and if Lucas were to forget you in the little time that you are apart, Javier will be there to remind him of you.

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[ramblings-of-a-chaotic-neutral]

Hello everyone! I'm back with another Merlin au! This one is a horror-themed au for spooky season! Enjoy!

This au is Inspired by the story of King Pedro I of Portugal and Ines de Castro (which is a heartbreaking story that deserves to have more people talking about it), and it's set in a world where Merlin and Arthur are already together in season 3. After a magic reveal gone wrong, Merlin's magic was revealed while Uther was still alive, leading to Uther ordering Merlin's execution while Arthur was away on a hunting trip. When Arthur returns, he's met with the news of Merin's death, but he refuses to believe such horrible news until he rushes into Gaius's chambers, screaming for Merlin, only to find Gaius and Gwen sobbing over Merlin's body.

Arthur is overcome by grief and, after a few hours sitting in Gaius's chambers staring at Merlin's unnaturally still form with tears streaming down his face, Arthur marches off to face his father, to make him pay for his crimes. Uther is, of course, furious over Arthur getting so worked up over a treacherous sorcerer, but Arthur fights him like a madman, fueled by grief and rage.

In the end, Arthur wins the duel, and while the shocked lords and knights watching the whole ordeal were expecting Arthur to run his father through with is blade, Arthur does something that no one expects. He uses his blade to carve open Uther's chest, cutting out his heart, saying that Uther had been so heartless as to take Arthur's love from him, this ought to be his fate.

While the lords and knights were all shocked and horrified at the display, there was little they could do besides acknowledge the prince as their new ruler. Within a couple days, Uther's funeral and Arthur's coronation were organized, but Arthur still felt numb, even as the crown was placed on his head. He could almost feel the empty consort's throne next to him, where Merlin was always supposed to be, mocking him viciously.

But then, an idea formed in Arthur's not-quite-sane-anymore mind. Merlin had always deserved to sit at his side, to be honored as any consort to a king should be. Arthur had to see this through, to ensure that Merlin received the honors that he was denied during life.

Arthur ordered the servants to, under Gaius's supervision, collect Merlin's body, dress him in royal robes, and have him carried to the throne room. There was no way to make any of this right again, no way to make Arthur feel whole once more, but there was a way to make sure that Merlin's memory and all that he meant to Arthur lived on.

When the doors to the throne room finally opened, shocked and horrified gasps rose up from the assembled court at the sight that awaited them. There, being carried in on a stone slab, lay Merlin's pale, prone body, dressed in royal finery from Arthur's own wardrobe. His colorless pallor against the rich red robes created a striking and distinctly disturbing contrast, which was only heightened by the colorful jewelry that accompanied the outfit.

Arthur imagined what a magnificent sight Merlin would have made if he were alive and yearned for such a vision with all of his heart. But the reality of the situation was as grim as the expressions of the knights carrying Merlin's body. Merlin was gone, taking Arthur heart and all of his joy with him, and all that was left for Arthur to feel was somber determination to make at least one thing right: Merlin would be honored and remembered as a king.

The crowd's shocked whispering didn't cease as the procession passed them and made its way towards the thrones, reverently placing the slab in front of the steps to the throne, but they were shocked into silence as Arthur picked up Merlin's body and cradled him gently before carrying him over to the consort's throne and placing him on it with the greatest care.

The court was silenced at the disturbing sight of a limp body sitting in the queen's throne, but horrified gasps shot up from the crowd as the king suddenly turned around to face them, his eyes bloodshot and glaring at them all.

"You, all of you, stood by and let my father do this! And now, you will show your respect to the man you had forsaken. Merlin was everything to me, and I never had any intention to rule without him by my side. Living or dead, if I am king, then so is he."

Arthur slowly made his way back to his own throne and sat down, a picture of royal power. His eyes darted over to Merlin for a second, before shifting back over the crowd. Still, was it just Arthur's desperate imagination, or was there now a slight flush in Merlin's skin that wasn't there earlier?

"Just as you all knelt before me and took an oath of fealty, you will do the same for him. You will give him all of the honor he deserved in life."

At first, the lords in attendance just looked at him in utter disbelief, but the fierce glare Arthur sent them confirmed that the king was being entirely serious. Slowly, each of the lords knelt before the consort's throne, not daring to look up at the disturbing sight before them, and recited their oaths of fealty, feeling the king's burning gaze on them all the while.

Finally, after all of the lords had taken their oaths, a pale Geoffrey presented Arthur with the consort's crown, a treasure that had not been seen by anyone since Ygraine's passing. Arthur gingerly lifted the crown and made his way over to Merlin.

As he stepped closer, Arthur wanted to weep. Perhaps it was some cruel trick his mind was playing on him, put it looked like Merlin's color had returned to him, making him appear like he was only sleeping, like he would wake up and everything would be fine again.

Taking a steadying breath to hold his tears at bay, Arthur finally stepped right in front of Merlin, holding the crown over his motionless head. It wasn't fair, Arthur decided. It wasn't fair that Arthur had finally become king, was finally in a place where he could openly profess his love for Merlin, but Merlin wasn't here by his side to see it!

Still, he could let everyone else see his love for Merlin. Slowly, he lowered the crown onto Merlin's head, letting rest on his limp head. Arthur took a shaking step back, trembling with rage and grief as he looked at Merlin, bedecked in royal robes and wearing the crown that Arthur had always longest to give him. Arthur's own mind still mocked him, making Merlin look almost alive again, like he was only sleeping, when Arthur when that Merlin was gone, and all that was left of him was this pale, empty shell and a terrible hollowness in Arthur's chest where his heart was supposed to be.

Arthur tenderly gasped Merlin's chin, tilting his head up to face him. This was goodbye, Arthur knew it. After this, Merlin would be laid to rest with all the honors of a king, and Arthur would be left ruling over his kingdom alone and heartbroken for the rest of his days. With tears flowing freely down his face, Arthur leaned down and pressed a kiss onto Merlin's lips. Once again, Arthur's mind took pity on him, as he could swear that Merlin's lips were warm with life under his own.

Arthur drew back, gazing at his love's face for what might be the last time, attempting to commit every minute detail to memory, such that Merlin's likeness would never fade from his mind even as the years went by. As Arthur eyes scanned over Merlin's face, however, there was one thing that struck him as odd before his mind caught up to what he was seeing and his heart, which had felt cold and frozen fir days, started beating at a frantic rhythm.

Because Merlin's eyes were open.

(Yes, Merlin was immortal the whole time, but his magic was just taking a while to heal him lol!)

And that's all for now! I hope you all enjoyed this au! Let me know if you'd like to see a continuation!

And, as always, thank you for reading through my ramblings! :D