#and the love she yearns for always eludes her

[rutilation]

Tbh, the question of whether or not Nayuta is a threat to humanity is much less interesting to me compared to the question of whether she'll ever understand that she can't both make Denji happy and isolate him from all other relationships.

This chapter kicks that can down the road yet again. But, when all's said and done, I wonder what will win out: her possessiveness of Denji, or her love for him?

[perictione00]

Daddy's best friend

Pairing: Sukuna x reader

Warnings: MDNI, smut, unprotected sex, cheating, age-gap relationship, choking, oral sex.

Synopsis: When your wedding day guest list carries an unexpected twist, will you choose loyalty or be consumed by the forbidden echoes of your past?

Jujutsu Kaisen Masterlist

You had returned to your parents' house, eagerly preparing for the grand union with your true love. Daddy, the cheerleader of your journey into wedded bliss, was beaming as he had always dreamt of watching his only daughter start a family of her own. 

You had planned a humble wedding with an intimate crowd to keep things simple and affordable. Yet family ties dictated a broader invitation, including your parents' extensive network of family and friends. Enter Ryoman Sukuna, your dad's BFF—or, as fate would have it, the charming fellow with whom you shared more than just pleasantries.

Well, in short, it could be said that you were freshly out of college, and one day you happened to bump into a single, gorgeous, hot guy with a fat cock at one of your father's gatherings. You made it obvious to him how bad you were for him. One thing led to another, and the encounter escalated into a series of rendezvouses within the familiar walls of your parents' house, basically fucking in each and every corner. Alas, morality's sudden awakening prompted a parting of ways, leaving you with a wedding day guest list that carried an unexpected twist. However, with the impending wedding day drawing near, time grew more precious, leaving no room for distractions or second-guessing, and within a blink of your eye, you were standing on the stage of a pre-marital celebration in a hall full of people.

Standing in the corner of that very hall was Sukuna, who found himself feeling strangely consumed by the flames of his own regrettable choices. In a cruel twist, he became the architect of his own folly, a spectacle he never imagined. He remembers how he left you crying in order to hide the unconventional and forbidden relationship he shared with you. It was after his conversation with your father about your future and your marriage that he realized the significance of his actions. But today, the familiar sparks of possessiveness ignited inside of him after encountering your soon-to-be husband, who seemed like a person who deserved you. How could anyone have the privilege of having you when you already belonged to him?

"Tell me, Sukuna, have you ever seen a more beautiful bride than my sweet daughter?" Your father asked passionately while introducing your fiance to his friend.

"She's the most beautiful one, indeed." Even after the passage of years, a solitary word from him still had the power to leave you feeling weak in the knees. It was undeniable—he had aged like a fine wine, retaining the timeless allure you remembered. The way he appraised you with that tempting glint in his eyes didn't escape your notice. Nor did the subtle shift in his demeanor when you introduced your fiancé. Uncertain if you were reading too much into it or if reality mirrored your imagination, the nuances didn't elude you.

Once the festivities concluded, you, along with your family and fiancé, returned home, only to discover that your father had invited Sukuna over for a drink. Attempting to dismiss it from your thoughts, you went to bed. However, as silence enveloped the house with everyone asleep, you discreetly ventured out of your bedroom, yearning for a fleeting encounter with your former lover.

You were pulled into the dimness of the guestroom as a set of hands enveloped your waist, drawing you further into the shadows. Sukuna, slightly drunk yet eternally gorgeous, wordlessly guided you. No verbal exchange occurred; instead, you both surrendered to an instinctive, passionate, and hunger-laden kiss. 

Pausing briefly to catch your breath, you both swiftly started undressing each other frantically. A deep groan escaped him as you tugged at his boxer briefs, unveiling his already eager arousal and laying bare his unmistakable intentions.

Feeling a hint of arousal yourself, you couldn't resist the urge to wrap your fingers around his erect shaft. A long, wet stripe up the underside of his cock, accompanied by the familiar taste and scent, led you to slide his length into your mouth. Sucking on the sensitive opening just the way he liked, you hollowed your cheeks, sensing Sukuna losing composure. He took control, gripping your hair tightly as pleasure clouded your senses. With a swirl of your tongue and a series of slurps on the thick veins of his cock, his loud moans spurred you to take all of him into your mouth, delving into a deepthroating rhythm. Sukuna lost it when his eyes met yours and started violently bucking his hips, choking you, and controlling you in the best possible ways, like he always used to, coming undone in the warmth of your mouth. You moaned at the taste of his cum, desperately swallowing all of it.

Sukuna had realized that, no matter what moral obligations fogged his views, he would always long for all of you. He remembered the countless times he jerked off to your old nudes, the way your thoughts would take over his mind during lonely, cold nights, and the way he could only ever want you to satisfy his wants. Regardless of how forbidden this relationship was, he would do it again. He would relish in your taste every afternoon like he used to; he would fuck you in your parents' room like he used to; hell, he would fuck you right in front of them if he has to. There's no stopping now.

Laying you down on the bed, he began to spit on your cunt, pulling out a condom from his wallet only to throw it away. He runs the tip of his cock through your folds. "I'll take you raw tonight."

"Ahh-fuck me, Kuna." You respond desperately, casing him to plunge himself into you, every inch inside of you within seconds. He stretches your cunt out and begins to thrust rapidly in and out of you, not giving you any time to adjust. His one hand goes down to abuse your clit and the other wraps around your throat, choking you, earning a moan out of you.

You pull him into a suffocating kiss, all the while your hands claw down his back. The way your cunt wrapped around him, sucking him in so tightly, and the way your hips eagerly matched his pace encouraged him to rapidly thrust in and out of you. His merciless thrusting and choking had you gasping for air, and with a few more strokes along your walls, he felt you cream around him.

Your vision blurred as you came with an animalistic moan of his name, causing him to lose every ounce of self-control and milk every string of his cum inside of you.

You lay there, catching your breath, letting the guilt of your actions to settle in, but it never does. Instead, you went for a few more rounds and a few more after that before finally parting ways.

"Sukuna, what am I gonna do?"

"Marry him, but make me the happiest man on earth."

Note: It's okay to simp for fictional older men but in the real world please take caution, they have greasy hair everywhere (just a friendly reminder).

[p0orbaby]

I wish you would write a fic where both reader and Alessia plays for arsenal and are best friends, but when in one game reader gets tackled really badly Alessia gets really protective and realises her feelings for reader

The Awakening

warnings: injury, but nothing too specific

a/n: thanks for the request!

word count: 595

-

Alessia was many things.

Clumsy, sure. She'd tripped over her own feet more times than she cared to count. She had an utter lack of direction that could rival any confused traveler. But it was her ability to be completely oblivious that took the cake.

She had a knack for missing even the most obvious hints and signals in various aspects of life. Whether it was a friend dropping subtle hints or the universe itself practically screaming a message, her capacity to remain blissfully unaware was something her friends found endearing, and at times, exasperating. It was as if her mind was so often preoccupied with the world of football that the subtleties of everyday life often eluded her.

It was that that had her blind to her true feelings for so long.

-

The Emirates stood tall and proud in the heart of North London. Seas of red and white flooded the stands as fans flocked to support their team in a derby much anticipated.

She loved days like this. With its electric atmosphere and the roar of the crowd, it was a reminder of one of the many reasons she fell in love with the beautiful game in the first place.

And the match was going well, until it wasn’t.

A brutal, reckless tackle from an opponent sent you sprawling to the ground. The gasp of pain was audible even in the stands, and Alessia's heart stopped. She saw red.

Ignoring the referee's pleas to stay away, she sprinted over to her fallen friend. The other players formed a chaotic scrum around you, but Alessia didn't care. All that mattered was you, writhing in pain on the grass.

"Hey, stay with me," Alessia whispered, cradling your head in her hands. "You're going to be okay”

But as she looked down at her best friend, something inside her snapped. She realised, in that terrifying moment, that her feelings for you went far beyond friendship. Seeing you hurt like that, in pain, it made her chest ache. It birthed an overwhelming need to protect the person she cared about more than anyone else in the world.

The medical team rushed onto the field, taking over from Alessia. She watched with a clenched jaw as they assessed your injury and prepared to stretcher you off.

She wanted to stay by your side, to shield you from any harm.

You wouldn’t know, not then at least, but as you were carried off, Alessia's eyes never left you

That was the beginning. That was the moment she knew.

Like a chain reaction, the realisation set in with a sudden and profound clarity. All those times she felt nervous around you, she had brushed them off as excitement to see her best friend. The racing heart, the butterflies in her stomach, the desire to be closer to you, she had attributed all of it to the simple joy of your presence. But now, it was undeniable; it was so much more than that.

Emotions that had been concealed for so long burst forth like a dam breaking, and there was no turning back.

She’ll always remember that day, the day everything changed. With the sun shining down on Islington, casting a warm glow on the city. As her heart yearned for you like it never had before. It was a day etched into her memory, a day that had shifted the course of her life and her emotions in a way she could never have foreseen.

Alessia was many things. And being in love with you was one of them.

[hisui-dreamer]

such lengths

Pairing: Floyd Leech x f!reader

Synopsis: if your fiancé is the one to kill you in an arranged marriage you can't refuse, then why not seduce said fiancé so he won't kill you?

Tags: fluff, cliché isekai plots, reincarnation, female reader, historical setting, arranged marriages

Word count: 1.7k+

Notes: how did i write more for floyd than malleus💀

anywaysss early birthday prize for everyone's second favourite eel!!

✧Jade's Villainess✧ ✧Malleus' Villainess✧

Masterlist

The tale of this noblewoman is nothing short of a pitiful one.

Though born into a lineage of high prestige, her family's former glory had withered away, drained dry by the toils of generations past. Yet, the count and countess, bound by love and tenderness, still showered their daughter with affection, sparing no effort to ensure her well-being.

The noblewoman yearned for this fleeting happiness to linger, but destiny rarely extends its benevolent hand for long. On her eleventh birthday, her mother, weary from the ceaseless burdens of the household, succumbed to a devastating illness and became bedridden. In a desperate gambit to procure funds for the cure to his wife's illness, the count embarked on treacherous voyages to distant shores, seeking business opportunities in the coastal realms.

But alas, the wheel of misfortune turned relentlessly. On her fourteenth birthday, while returning home with promises of a prosperous business deal, the count met his untimely end in a harrowing carriage accident.

As the sole heir to the county, she was burdened with the weight of the title, a mantle too heavy for an adolescent to bear. She undertook the grim task of orchestrating her father's funeral. During the somber ceremony, a peculiar party of visitors arrived, their countenance unsettling, teeth like razors and stature unnaturally tall. She soon learned these were the Leech family, the very traders her father had forged deals with.

They dangled an irresistible proposition before her, one she could not refuse; in exchange for becoming the betrothed of the eldest Leech son, her mother's well-being would be safeguarded, and the finest remedies would be at her disposal.

Thus, the noblewoman, too foolish and naive, chose to secure her mother's future. Their union was sealed when she reached the age of eighteen. Yet, not even a year passed before a sinister illness overcame her, her constitution ravaged by a poison slowly administered by her own husband.

The Leech family, though incredibly wealthy and influential, had always hungered for the societal standing that had long eluded them. The noblewoman, unknowingly, was their golden ladder to ascend into aristocracy, for deceiving the aristocratic circles into believing she was sickly, much like her mother, proved a simple task.

And so, the noblewoman passed away pitifully, her title passed into the hands of her husband, and her mother soon followed her beloved daughter.

of all the characters you could've have reincarnated as, you had the worst luck of all when you woke up as Floyd's late wife

heck, Floyd wasn't even the main character of the novel, it was some businessman that grew up to be greedy and cruel, but had to learn how to love again after meeting the heroine

his late wife was just briefly mentioned for a paragraph about how the leech family, basically the mafia from "fathoms below", started gaining more influence and helped the businessman with his schemes

though Floyd and his twin brother jade did gain a large fanbase, they were a pretty striking duo and when did red flags ever stop fans from simping

you yourself were a huge fan of the twins, but even you didn't instantly recognize you became Floyd's late wife

it was only when you were grieving with your mother about the passing of your caring father and the leech family showed up at the funeral

the striking teal hair, mismatched eyes, and carefree grin stood out almost immediately

Mr. Leech, an formidable figure, cast a shadow of authority as he shattered the oppressive silence that had draped itself over the elegant garden. His voice, deep and resonant, possessed a commanding quality as he addressed you. "My condolences for your loss, my dear. Your father and I were business partners... He spoke very highly of you."

With a sense of poised grace, you offered a nod at his words. "Thank you, Mr. Leech. It is an honor to have made the acquaintance of your family, even under these less-than-fortunate circumstances."

Jade, his sharp and composed eyes keenly focused on you, joined the conversation. "I'm very sorry for your loss. I'm Jade," he offered his hand in greeting.

You shook his hand, your voice filled with gratitude. "Thank you, Jade."

In stark contrast, Floyd, exuding an aura of indifference. Mr. Leech took it upon himself to introduce him, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. "And this is Floyd, my eldest son."

You extended a polite greeting to Floyd, your tone warm and inviting as you curtseyed. "Hello, Floyd. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Floyd, maintaining his stoic demeanor, made a "hmph" sound before turning away, his demeanor aloof.

Sensing the tension and his apparent disinterest, you scrambled for a way to interest him. "Oh uhm, you must be tired from your journey. Would you care for some refreshments? We have some pastries prepared, if you'd like."

He turns back to you, a glint of interest flickering in his curious eyes. "Hmmm... Alright, why don'tcha show me what you've got prepared, Shrimpy?" He responds, the edges of his lips curling upward.

thankfully, the funeral came to a close peacefully, and Floyd seemingly got along with you

from then you awaited the offer letter from Mr Leech to arrive

you remembered that Floyd, though easily bored, could be really dedicated to something if he wanted to

so what better way to survive, than to make Floyd like you?? only then will your mom get the medicine she needs, and you'll survive without struggling in poverty

worse case scenario, he gets bored of you when you're older and you'll just divorce

and if he's the one asking for the divorce, he can't really make you pay compensation for the past medical fees

so, you decided to accept the proposal nonetheless

but not without precautions!! you started studying intensely on all sorts of poisons and antidotes, just in case Floyd randomly gets bored and tries to unalive you

though if he wanted to end your life with brute force, you knew you wouldn't stand a chance against him

as fiancés, there's not much improvement in your relationship

sometimes he's bored and finds hanging out with you a chore, other times he's following you around like a curious puppy, and there are also moments where he pranks you to see your reactions

you've tried becoming closer to him by getting him cool shoes and playing instruments, but he's far too aloof for you to know if he likes you or not

but thankfully, your mother's complection has improved a lot, and it does look like she's recovering

and once you're both officially adults and married, you start attending public events with floyd to establish your connections

or more accurately, for the leech family to establish connections with aristocracy

this time, it was a tea party held by some business competitors of the leech family

The elegant garden was a tranquil haven for the tea party, the soft murmur of leaves rustling in the gentle breeze providing a soothing background to the clink of fine china and hushed conversations. You, Floyd, and the other aristocratic adolescents settled around a beautifully adorned table, the porcelain teacups and dainty pastries tempting you all.

Floyd lifted the delicate teacup to his lips as he rolled his eyes, having grown weary of the incessant chatter and polite pleasantries that surrounded him. Just as he was about to take a sip, you noticed a faint, unusual scent wafting from his cup, a scent that sent a chilling realization down your spine.

With lightning-quick reflexes, you reached out and pressed your hand against Floyd's, preventing him from taking that fateful sip. "Wait, Floyd, don't," you whispered urgently.

Startled, Floyd's gaze darted to your eyes, confusion etched across his face. "What's wrong, Shrimpy?" he asked, taken aback by your trembling hands.

You carefully take out the silver hairpin gifted to you by Mr Leech from your hair, murmuring, "Please explain this to father-in-law later..." Carefully, you submerged the hairpin into Floyd's cup, and both of you watched in horror as the pearly hairpin rapidly transformed into a sinister shade of black.

His eyes widened as he looked down at the poisoned tea, realizing the danger he had been unknowingly on the brink of. Anger simmered beneath the surface, his emotions stirred by the audacity of someone attempting harm. Swiftly, he plucked the hairpin from the cup, using his handkerchief to conceal the incriminating evidence before the guests could catch on.

"I'm bored," His voice carried throughout the venue, capturing the attention of the other guests. "Let's get out of here." He said as he pulled you up from your seat with a firm yet gentle gesture, placing an arm around your shoulder as he guided you away from the tea party.

Once you were far from prying eyes, he pulled you close, wrapping you in a protective embrace. His large hand moved soothingly over your back, attempting to calm your trembling form.

"Thanks, Shrimpy. I owe ya one" he whispered into your hair. After a brief moment, he pulled back slightly, his intense gaze fixed on your eyes. "But how'd ya know my tea was messed with?"

Anxiety seized your body at the question, the weight of your response holding immense consequences. If you answered wrongly, Floyd might suspect your intentions. In a panic, you blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"I wanted to protect you!"

Floyd blinked. "Protect... me?"

"Yes!" You affirmed. "I thought maybe there would be attempts on your life since your family's incredibly influential, and I wanted to be able to protect you..." You murmured the last bit, praying that you were making sense.

With an expression of genuine astonishment, Floyd stared at you, unblinking. It was clear that your explanation had taken him by surprise, the notion of your dedication leaving him momentarily speechless.

"You... you went through such lengths... to protect me?" Floyd finally managed to utter, a hint of incredulity in his voice. A glimmer of warmth crept into his eyes as he studied your face, taking in the sincerity in your actions.

Before you could conjure up an answer, his grip on your shoulder tightened, drawing you closer to him. "You're really something else, Shrimpy," he murmured, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Hahaha! I wouldn't mind having you around!"

needless to say, floyd started following you around even more now

it seems this event really helped you gain his trust and affection

soon after the party, he gifted you a new hairpin, with "pearls he found himself" he says

he starts getting jealous when you spend more time studying poisons with jade but if you say you're doing it because you want to protect him he melts again

looks like you're not losing your life anytime soon, but i also don't think that eel is letting go of you ever

Masterlist

if you liked this post, don't forget to reblog!

[stargirlrchive]

folklore: peace ✩ jake sully

masterlist ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ folklore masterlist

summary: widowed!jake sully x female!reader, no use of y/n, angst, marriage of convenience, mentions of death, TW!! eluded to death due to child birth, less angsty than previous chapter but she’s still sad :(

word count: 2,855

sa’nok (n) - mother ; ‘ite (n) - daughter ; ‘itan (n) - son

comments: hi bbys! i love this chapter sm! already started working on the third so it should be up in a few days <3 hope you all enjoyyyyy love u bye!!! ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ 

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- pandora, omitikaya forest, 2167 -

The years had melted away quickly, your heart no longer yearned as it once had for the life you could have had because you were content with the life you lived. Everyday that passed your love grew for the children, though it was an easy task to begin with. From Neteyam to Tuk, you were sure Eywa had blessed Jake and Neytiri with the calmest babes. Before you knew it five years had passed.

Memories from the past years fluttered your mind as you readied yourself for the celebration that would be held for the clan shortly.

Lo’ak and Kiri had instantly found comfort in you as they missed their mother. You had always been around, you and Neytiri were practically attached at the hip and you had joined her and Jake during every birth of their children. They were still not quite old enough to understand why Neytiri was not around, but your constant presence eased the yearning a bit. They both had already seen you as somewhat of a mother figure so the transition did not affect them as much. Your bond with the two seven year olds was strong from the start.

As the years passed Kiri enjoyed watching you work as you healed her father or brothers. She especially appreciated it when she suggested certain alternatives to ease the pain for the wounded and you listened. She adored the fact that she had three mothers, how you talked about Neytiri and kept her spirit alive. Besides your constant presence, that was always comforting and warm, your respect for Neytiri was felt even in the way you spoke of her. As if she was still physically around.

Lo’ak was the wild card, which had been a big shock as when he was a tiny child he was always so quiet. Often playing by himself or wanting to be dotted over by you. For the first two years he was the one that clung to you quickest, and as you coddled him to get him to sleep he would mumble out that your skin felt like Neytiri’s and the sleep would instantly find him. Even now as his rebellious nature reached an all time high and Jake would scold the young boy he found solace in you. You were the gentler parent out of the two and anytime a scolding was too rough on him he’d find himself unable to part from you. You comforted him in a way he only vaguely remembers Neytiri had.

Unfortunately for Tuk she had no recollection of Neytiri, her love for you knew no limit because in her eyes you were her mother. The one she cuddled into if she had a nightmare, the only one she let braid her hair. You were everything to the small girl. Her favorite time with you was when all her siblings were gone and she had you all to herself, you taught her how to make necklaces and weave baskets, all while you told her stories of Neytiri and Jake. She felt Neytiri everywhere, she knew she was around and felt the love her mother had for her through you.

All the children had grown to love you, but it was hardest on Neteyam as he was almost nine when you stepped into the role. But his appreciation for you grew each day as he realized how much you cared for him and his siblings.

It was evident even now, just yesterday he completed his Iknimaya and you were the first person he ran to. He nuzzled into your embrace as he recalled everything that happened with his Ikran before he made the bond. “Sa’nok! Dad said I claimed my Ikran faster than he did!”

You felt like something had tugged at your heart as you stared at the tall boy, he had never called you mother before. “Oh my sweet boy, I am so proud of you!”

Your thoughts were cut short as someone behind you cleared their throat, you jumped lightly as you turned to look at who had entered the home. It was Jake. “Hello, Jake.”

You turned back to what you were doing, mixing the white paste to create a paint. Things had never really changed between you and him, just a comfortable routine. He respected you in the way a mate should, same for you. But neither of you really went past being cordial with one another despite the longing feeling that nestled into your heart at your close proximity with the Olo’eyktan. But that was all it was, a feeling that was fleeting then hit you all at once, one that you had pushed so far back you didn’t even know what you felt for the man. “I came to see if you were ready, the clan is ready to begin celebrating.”

Your fingers dipped into the paste and you painted four lines on each side of your upper arms, “I will be ready shortly, you can go on.”

Jake sighed quietly, he had been feeling awkward around you lately. He couldn't place exactly what it was but the feeling was burrowing deeper into his chest as the weeks went on. “I think it is best if we enter together. We always do so, it might make everyone think something is wrong.”

Your brows furrowed together in confusion but you did not comment on it. Your fingers continued to paint gently across your collar bones and up your throat all the way to the plump of your bottom lip. You adjusted the intricate feathered loin cloth, one that was far too fancy for a regular day but it sat nicely on your frame for the party that was sure to last most of the night and well past eclipse. Your top was covered in gold and emerald beads and sat high on your chest, your torso was exposed more than usual and Jake found it hard to look away.

He swallowed uncomfortably as you looked at him, “Ready?”

You did not wait for him to respond and made your way outside of the tent, walking past families who were making their way towards the large clearing in High Camp. Jake followed behind you, the sound of the beads distracting him slightly as he tried to keep up with your swift steps.

As you both entered the clearing it was filled with loud chatter, the music even louder as you felt the vibrations on your feet. The trees surrounding the premises were decorated with vines and leaves that glowed under the fire, “This will be good for the clan.”

You were smiling as your steps slowed down, walking besides Jake towards the center of the room. Each Na’vi you passed sent both you and Jake a peaceful smile, greeting you properly as you both motioned the greeting back.

“Yes it will. It will be some form of distraction from what has been happening with the Sky-people.”

“Hopefully.”

After you had settled into your seat, Jake began his speech. Congratulating the young warriors, naming each of them one by one. He reminded them of the responsibility the mantle held and how honorable and important their role was within the clan. They were reborn and accepted as adults and they would now assimilate to the needs of the clan. He let Mo’at take over as she guided a prayer to Eywa, the clan in complete harmony as they sent their gratitude to the Great Mother.

Jake chimed in moments later, “Let the celebration begin!”

The music picked up again, laughter and loud chatter filled the space. Your ears twitched slightly as Neteyam made his way towards the two of you. A nervous smile on his face, the words tumbling out of his mouth, “I am not expected to find a mate tonight, right?”

Your hands flew to your mouth as you tried to stop yourself from laughing. Neteyam had never brought that topic up to you and as you turned to look at Jake you figured he had not done so with him either. His cheeks were a dark purple, clearing his throat as he looked for the words to say, “No-why would you think that, ‘itan?”

Neteyam’s shoulders visibly relaxed as he shrugged, “That is all people keep telling me to do now.”

“Do not worry about that now, go have fun.”

Neteyam smiled at you, sending another one to his father as he retreated back to his friends, “Eywa, I did not think we would have had to have that conversation for another few years.”

Jake laughed quietly, “Neither did I.”

The next few hours went by smoothly, the clan had come together and everyone’s hard work was evident with the energy surrounding you. There was a change in music and everyone began making their way towards the center. It was a traditional dance all Na’vi knew and it was one of your favorites.

You sighed quietly as everyone lined up, mind drifting as you imagined what your life would’ve been like. If you would be dancing with your mate who loved you? Who would be sitting besides the Toruk Makto? If you would have had kids yourself already. A sadness you had not felt in a long time began to wrap around your heart. You blinked back the tears that pooled at your eyes as you watched everyone begin to dance.

Jake was about to comment on Neteyam and Lo’ak being dragged to dance but the words were cut short as he saw your watery eyes. He had not seen that look in your face in a very long time, sadness and longing and he felt something tug in his chest. He noticed how your head slightly moved to the sound of the music, your eyes glazed over as you watched everyone dance and laugh. Before Jake could stop himself he was up, “Come.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as Jake towered over you from his standing position, “Let’s dance.”

You were not sure why the request shocked you so much, but it did. Your eyes widened as you looked around, not believing he was talking to you. “You want to dance? With me?”

He rolled his eyes lightly, grabbing your wrist as he pulled you up from your seat, “Yes-now let’s hurry.”

Jake made haste as he dragged you along and your mind raced as nerves bubbled in your chest. There was a time, maybe two years back where your feelings for Jake had begun to confuse you. It stemmed out of loneliness and even though you did not want to admit it, attraction. It was hard, you were sad and though you had love poured onto you from the kids and the clan, there was always something missing. Some hole that was never filled.

And it scared you, caused the guilt to eat at your soul because of Neytiri, and you promised you would never let your emotions consume you that way, not for Jake. This was far too close and far too intimate, something that you had never felt with the Olo’eyktan. You were pressed side by side as body’s moved around the two of you. Your hands and hips swaying to the music as they moved in the routine you knew like the back of your hand. Your eyes locked onto Jake’s neck, you did not want to reach his eyes as both of your hands extended towards him, ghosting over his chest as your hands ran up and down. You could feel the warmth of his skin and it caused a shiver to run up your spine, trying to focus on anything but him.

Your skin erupted into goosebumps as his hands fell to your waist, moving them gently side to side to the beat of the music that was pounding in his ears. Your skin was soft, and his fingers were calloused, moving up the side of your ribs and extending them to your hands as they moved. It bothered him that you would not look at him, his head was tilted slightly as his eyes raked all over your form. Cheeks flamed a dark hue as the sound of your beaded top distracted him once again. He looked up and his eyes finally locked with yours, and it took him back a bit.

Your gaze was soft, almost shy like you had no idea what to do with yourself and he felt the exact same why. Every graze of your fingers that touched against his skin felt like fire running through his skin. It felt so foreign and he hated that he didn’t want it to end. He was wishing the song would go on for hours because he’s never had you this close, didn’t know if he’d get to again. This feeling was new and all consuming, he was scared.

The song ended and everyone stilled, it felt like someone had thrown ice cold water on him as he stared at you. A gnawing feeling clawing at his chest as he locked eyes with you again. Guilt.

He felt the need to apologize, as if he made you two cross a line you both never had before. Before he could, you turned stiffly away from him and made your way back to your seat next to Mo’at.

-

The night progressed and the sun was starting to cast a pink hue over High Camp, the crowd was still in full swing but with Mo’at deciding to retreat you did the same. Tuk was curled into you, deep in sleep as you adjusted her to begin the walk back to your family tent.

Your eyes quickly scanned around looking for the other three kids, Lo’ak and Netyam were with Jake, laughing about something he had said. Your eyes briefly locked with his as you were turning to look for Kiri.

She sat beside other young Na’vi girls, singing along to the music that was still playing. You began to make your way through the clearing, soothing Tuk’s back as she moved around in your arms, the poor girl was so exhausted. “Something is wrong between you and JakeSully.”

You turned to look at the Tsahik, she did not spare you a glance as she kept walking, “There is nothing wrong between us.”

“Yes there is, do not lie to me. The Great Mother speaks to me, gives me signs and something has been wrong since your union. She is unhappy.”

Fear gripped at your throat, you swallowed to try and ease the burn that began to burrow there. “You do not act like a mated couple. You both act as if you know nothing of each other. No kids either? Do you not want your own?”

“I am perfectly content with the life I have, Mo’at. And I have four children already, that is more than enough for both Jake and I.”

“You are just content? A union with your mate should not make you feel content, you should feel euphoric, happy, loved.”

You felt anger bubble in your chest at the older woman, she had no right to comment on what your life ended up being. All the things she felt you lacked were her doing, she planted the idea of the union, she pushed you and Jake to come together in a way neither of you ever wanted to. “What do you want me to say Mo’at? That I would gladly sacrifice myself for Jake to live a happy life with his kids? That nothing makes me happier than when he comes home and he is not injured or in pain? Do you want me to shout it out for the entire clan to hear? That I lov-”

Your ears pinned back as the words almost slipped from your tongue, your tail twitched in fear. Mo’at froze as she realized it was hard for you to even get the words out. “That you love him?”

She noticed small tears pooled in your eyes, “What is wrong, ‘ite?”

“Nothing is wrong, I told you already.”

Her eyes shifted behind you, you blinked the tears away, “Ah-JakeSully.”

You continued the short distance to your tent, Tuk feeling heavy in your arms as your whole body felt like it was going to cave in. Jake and the rest of the kids followed in shortly as you laid Tuk down.

Tears fell freely down your eyes as you stared at the small girl, trying your hardest to blink them away, “You should’ve had me bring her.”

You wiped at the tears quickly, “I was tired, I wanted to come home already and figured the four of you still wanted to be out.”

Jake’s hand gripped at your forearm, stopping you from leaving him again. His face was filled with concern as he scanned over your face. “Why are you crying?”

More tears fought to leak but you blinked them away, “Just one of those days. Peace of mind has been difficult for me to find lately.”

You removed your arm from his, something had shifted between the two of you and it scared you. You wanted no part of it.

🏷️ ; @luvlykrispy​ @fanboyluvr​ @daydreamer2k​ @tonowarii​ @mrs-sullys-blog​ @cupidddd-d​ @iamparou​ @myheartfollower​ @cwufst​ @cleverzonkwombatsludge​ @gandalfsbathwater​ @tonysslut​ @ch0nky-child​ @irisskies​ @bobojojoba69​ @sseleniaa​ @perseny​ @stargirl-ghostiesss​ ; i tagged who i could, some @’s were not working for me, pls lmk if you would like to be added <3

[dreamingsnowflake2013]

Xue Ning's deepest, most visceral desire in both lives has been to be loved by someone the most in the world. After a lifetime of neglect from those who should have given her that sort of love, be it her biological mother or her "fake" mother, she tried to compensate for this lack by becoming the empress, because she thought the position meant being loved by everyone the most, which terribly backfired on her, since it's the opposite - she was just the first among many, locked in a golden cage and an eternal struggle for the emperor's favour, and hated by almost everyone. Xue Ning had never been anyone's everything, and the more she yearned for it and tried to fill the void, the more it eluded her. She looked for it in all the wrong places - the palace, Zhang Zhe, in the capital, with her family..., but it only left her even more empty, jaded, unhappy and constantly disappointed no matter what she did. She was never good enough for them. And just when she gives up the hope of ever finding acceptance and love, Xie Wei storms into her life and GIVES HER HIS EVERYTHING, EVERYTHING SHE HAS EVER WANTED AND NEEDED, BECAUSE SHE IS HIS EVERYTHING.

He, perhaps the most unlikely person imaginable (at least for her), is the only one who can actually give her what she has always been starved for, taking her everything, all her damaged, dark, tormented and vulnerable self and loving her completely. She doesn't need to hide or pretend with him, like she does with others, since she never fears Xie Wei would reject her for her flaws.

It's telling that the only time Xue Ning actually gets angry in front of Zhang Zhe and argues with him is when she is defending Xie Wei. It's like he is seeing her for the first time, and in a way, he really is.

Xue Ning desires acceptance of everything she is, and Xie Wei embraces her completely. He is the only one who can see only her and gives her his unconditional love and complete devotion. This all-encompassing, all-consuming love that defies all reason, fear, and fate finally belongs only to her. Forever. In him, she gets what no other woman in her acquittance does - a man faithful only to her for a lifetime (maybe even more than that). Her sister is a concubine, her father used to have a concubine, but Xue Ning is Xie Wei's one and only.

Her sheer disbelief and wonder of being loved so completely when she finally realises she is someone's everything, his first and only choice forever, that she is finally more than enough and that Xie Wei would give up and sacrifice for her everything he cares for, even his own life, despite knowing her ugly, dark, messy side, he loves her not in spite of it but because of it, because he considers her his equal in every way.

How could it be him out of all people? But the truth is, it could have only ever been him.

[blissfulip]

—Legion

On AO3

Priest!Viktor x F!demon!reader

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Priest Kink, Blasphemy, Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Self-Flagellation, Demon Sex, Demon Summoning, Demon/Human Relationships, demon reader, AU - Canon Divergence, Post medieval era, Dubious Science, Church Sex, Roman Catholicism, Catholic Guilt, Improper Use of Catholic Rituals, Shameless Smut, Masturbation, No use of Y/N, third person.

Cw: Handjob

Words: 2k

[A/N: Happy Easter Sunday lmao, also whoever picks up all of the 'easter eggs' (get it wink wink) gets a kith and hug from me (let me know if you want to be tagged or removed in future fic updates!)]

Tags: @ihopeinevergetsoberr @chemical-killjoy @jinxed-jk @bobobomao @queen-of-elves @thedustybunny @syren201 @thayfass @thehistoriangirl @hypocritic-trash-baby @zaunitearchives

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III. 

Viktor stood frozen, the voice that whispered those words echoing against the walls of his head as he gazed upon the creature before him, a figure blindingly bright yet of simultaneously all-consuming darkness. The sight obscured his thoughts and left him adrift in a sea of terror. How could he have been so blind as to believe that he could command such power without consequence? Or rather, was it the naivete of believing nothing would come of it that turned against him? 

The very essence of his faith fractured—that earth-shattering feeling that had become all too common for him that day—threatened by this insidious presence. What had he unleashed upon the world? What horrors awaited him in the wake of his hubris? Viktor trembled, and his soul lay bare before the abyss, but something sinister took him out of this blossoming meltdown; she, the creature, looked familiar.

And achingly so, yet her form eluded him like a half-remembered dream. Faces swirled in the depths of his memory, merging and shifting like shadows cast by a flickering flame, but he was unable to put a finger on them.

"Do you not recognize me, Viktor?" Her voice cut through the air, eerily sweet.

Viktor recoiled in horror at the sound of his own name coming out of her mouth, the weight of her words crashing down upon him. 

“I manifest to you as a reflection of your own desires, an amalgamation of every soul you have ever yearned for, sweet human.” She hissed as she offered Viktor a hand to help him stand, her touch oddly warm as they both sat on the bed. “Do you not see it? That young woman from the bakery, or the one you always look at for a tad too long while you buy turnips? You don’t even like turnips,” she smiled slightly. “What about that woman who comes to confess every week? The one with the slightly hoarse voice that you love, even that tan young man with the green eyes,. Yes, yes, I know about him too; I am him too.”

“Who…what are you?” He asked amidst a short-lived surge of bravery.

“My name is Legion,” she said with an off-putting tone of irony, “for we are many... or however that verse goes. Mawkishly sentimental if you ask me.” She chuckled and seemed to deflate in disappointment at her attempt at humor not being acknowledged. She sighed in oddly human-like resignation, “I don’t have a name, Viktor, but I know yours , and you know what I am.”

"I seek nothing from the likes of you, Demon, you don’t know me." he declared, though doubt gnawed at him.

"You do, and it is the truth that I know you; your biggest fear is to remain ignorant and blind to the truths that lie beyond the veil of your mortal existence; I can feel it. " She whispered against his ear. 

"You are but a trick of the darkness; I will not succumb to your temptations."

"Oh, but Viktor, you already have ," she purred. "You summoned me here, drawn by your own curiosity. Your anger simmers beneath that stoic surface, against the silence of the heavens and the absence of answers to your prayers. But I answered, so why direct your anger at me ?"

“I have faith in Him; God will intercede in my favor.” He said, covering his face ith both hands, afraid his expression would betray something that confirmed her accusations.

“Yet you question his wisdom and his justice. You resent his silence, you doubt .”

“I love Him, and I will repent; I will.”

“Why? Faith without cynicism is a hollow shell. Will you let yourself be domesticated like a beast? A man of science like yourself?”

The spark of courage grew into embers inside Viktor’s chest at the mention of his work. Although he remained silent, not wanting to concede, she saw it in him, just like she experienced every emotion that grew within the transparent exterior that contained his soul.

“Embrace this fire, and you will obtain what you seek.” She said, gently laying a hand over Viktor’s. 

His shoulders slumped in resignation, but even as he acquiesced to her demands, a seed of guilt still remained. What would God think of him now for consorting with a creature of darkness? Would he be cast aside and condemned for eternity for his folly?

"What do you fear, judgement?” Viktor nodded.

“Your god is nothing but an egregore," she declared, her voice a whisper. "A figment of mortal imagination, born from the collective beliefs of humanity, he only has power over you if you allow it."

“God is my shepherd, He…” He started to recite, but his voice betrayed him.

“Yahweh, Tetragrammaton, Adonai, El, Elohim, Shaddai, Tzevaot… it does not matter who you so fervently pray to! Ancient egregores hold no power over the ancient gods.” She started saying in a firm tone, her volume high in affront. “And you, my sweet, are so unfortunately Christ hunted…a lot of work to be done.” She continued, her voice tuning back down to her previously silky tone.

Viktor's breath caught in his throat, but simultaneously, the weight of her words lifted a heavy chain that had previously hung around his neck. Although this—his God’s identity and how much power He held—seemed to be a point of contention between him and his conscience, every word she uttered seemed to confirm things he had been long thinking about. But the smell of culpability Viktor emanated was pungent, and what she saw in his heart was a whirlwind.

She was proud that he had let himself be guided by his urges, that he had, even if only for a small moment, felt true freedom in pleasure. She felt his fear when he remembered he would need to face father Isidore and then she felt his rage. He felt so strongly against him that for a second she imagined he would be nothing short of a monster, his robust yet sweet face was an interesting sight to find framed in Viktor’s memory. 

She felt sympathy and sadness and confusion, she felt worried for the young girl with the twin braids just like Viktor had, and felt intrigued as to how she had come in possession of her coin, but what mattered most to her in that moment was one problematic sensation; despondency. Viktor was close to giving up, he had nearly decided rage was useless and so was science.

“Let’s begin by working on the heavy guilt you carry.” She said, after a long silence. Viktor noticed an unsettling tenderness in her eyes when he, for the first time, looked directly into them. 

“I made a vow.” He answered, his voice breaking as it turned into a whisper.

"Do not let the chains of guilt bind you, Viktor," she murmured. "The church may preach of purity and righteousness, but it is built upon a foundation of hypocrisy, and you don’t need me to tell you as much.”

“I know of the behavior of some members of the clergy, but why should...”

“I don’t speak of individual transgressions; the church as an institution seeks to negate eroticism and sexuality, yet it embraces them in its most sacred rites.”

The deeply puzzled expression in Viktor’s face prompted her to elaborate.

“Think about the things you do during sacrament; think of the smell of incense, the touching of beads, the kissing of sacred objects, the rubbing of oils... Think about consuming the physical body of the idol you adore, and think about what it makes you feel—enlightenment, apotheosis. Remember the deep pleasure you extracted from the pain of self-penitence? It’s nearly devine, is it not? That necessity to envelop all senses?” 

Viktor nodded.

“And that feeling you get of being close to god in a way that nothing else will get you to—that sensation of being outside the perception of time and space—have you experienced it?”

“I have, in prayer.”

“Can I show you what true ecstasy feels like? One that starts and culminates in yourself without any divine intervention? 

And once again, Viktor simply nodded. The air crackled with a tension thick enough to suffocate him, his breath shallow and rapid. A rush of anticipation surged through him, mingling with a primal curiosity that threatened to consume him whole as she slithered behind him. The shift of weight on the mattress gave him a strange awareness of the materiality of what was taking place, and the hot breath on the left side of his neck caused the last string of sanity holding him together to loosen. 

For a second, he wondered if she was nothing but a very sly yet human woman that had somehow found a way into his room, but that idea was quickly quenched as both of her hands slowly glided along the sides of his still-clothed thighs, emanating that unnatural white glow that was clearly not of mortal nature. 

Her touch was delicate and warm, her nails slowly creeping up to the hem of his cassock as she pulled it up to reveal the trousers underneath. If Viktor had any idea of what she planned on doing, he would have been of more help, adjusting to make his clothing easier to remove, but unaware of what awaited him, he sat there immobile. 

After some mild struggle, she managed to get to the stubborn clasp, and the slight accidental touches ignited a fire within Viktor's veins, sending tendrils of heat coursing through his body. Soon enough, there was nothing in between them, and the cold air that came into contact with the streak of viscosity that had dampened his underpants sent goosebumps across his arms. 

She hadn’t even made her way to his cock yet, but with each gentle caress around his stomach and thighs, Viktor's senses were heightened to a fever pitch, his body aflame with a hunger that burned brighter than any candle. With the first feather touch along his shaft, he felt as if he were teetering on the edge of a precipice, poised on the brink of a pleasure so exquisite it bordered on agony. 

And then, with a slow and deliberate motion, her hand closed around him, sending shockwaves of ecstasy racing through every fiber of his being. A guttural moan escaped his lips as she began to move, her rhythm mechanic and intoxicating. With every teasing stroke, Viktor's breath hitched, his body responding eagerly to her touch. 

"Ah…God!" he gasped, his voice a hoarse whisper of longing. 

She froze on her tracks, drawing out a protesting whine from Viktor. “Do not call upon his name now; at this moment, you belong to me .” She spoke, her voice still sweet but laced with a tinge of resentment.

Viktor's mind swam in a haze, his thoughts fragmented and disjointed as he desperately nodded in agreement, before she resumed the pace of her moment. And then Viktor felt himself hurtling his head back onto her shoulder, his world reduced to nothing. She gently removed the sweat-drenched pieces of hair from his forehead and whispered words in a language he could not understand while her hand continued its path down to his neck and back. 

 For a second, he felt a reminder of the stinging pain on his shoulder blades, and then it faded. As he reached the climax of his arousal, he cried out desperate pleas, only this time to her and himself, finally surrendering to this intoxicating embrace. After letting him breathe for a while, she took one of his hands in hers and placed the copper coin on it. Viktor knew he was bound to her now.

And in that moment, there was no room for guilt or shame, only the unquenchable thirst for more.

[deliciousdekarios]

Words are Fleeting like Shadows

Quick lil piece about Gale struggling to write a poem about you, his beloved at the riverside camp. Tried to make it pine-y but idk just needed to write my idea out. be nice im sensitive.

The lantern, positioned at the edge of the campsite, emitted a soft, warm glow, illuminating the surrounding area. Sitting beside the river, Gale had his back hunched over his journal, his forehead furrowed with frustration. His quill hung uncertainly in his hand as he stared at the blank page before him, lost in thoughts of the one he had longed for. The sound of the river running close by was the only thing that broke the silence of the night.

Gale had been sitting like this for hours, trying to capture the essence of his feelings in verse. He longed to describe the beauty, grace, and spirit he saw in his beloved, but the words eluded him like fleeting shadows. Despite his best efforts, Gale couldn't find the right words, and frustration was mounting.

He missed Tara, his dear Tressym companion, who had always been his confidante, muse, and ever-faithful companion. Her feline wisdom and gentle purrs had often helped him break through writer's block, but she was nowhere to be found; she was probably back home in Waterdeep.

Gale dipped his quill into the inkwell again, determined to break through the barrier holding him captive. He closed his eyes and summoned memories of his beloved, trying to recall every detail of her laughter and smile. He wanted nothing more than to immortalize his feelings for her in verse, but try as he might, the words remained stubbornly out of reach.

Frustration and longing were bubbling within him, threatening to consume him whole. He yearned to pour his heart out onto the page, to express the depths of his love, but he couldn't find the right words. So, he closed his journal and set aside his quill, resigned that some things were beyond his grasp. For now, all he could do was wait, hope, and dream of the day when he finally found the words to express his love for her.

[see-arcane]

Lucy Undying came out a few days ago and

"It's a feminist retelling, giving Lucy the agency she so lacked in Dracula."

I am putting feminist retellings on the top shelf unit we all consider if sometimes lack of agency of a character in a story was the point

In fairness, I get the 'why' behind stuff like this.

Lucy's story is painful. It is scary and tragic and ends cruelly for her, just like so many tales of female victims before and after her. Though her death(s) have a real narrative and an emotional point, whereas your average damsel is nothing but an extra pound of meat for the grinder to help add more woe to Hero Man's story. It hurts more with her.

She stands apart from the common fridged woman by being someone we know, someone loved, someone killed and remade into a bloodstained caricature of herself to be her attacker's eternal slave. Ending her existence in that second iteration is mercy, practicality, and the setting of the stakes for Mina when Dracula targets her. If the monster doesn't kill you, the heroes will put you down for becoming a monster too. Which itself ripples out into new moral conundrums when we see how staunchly Jonathan refuses to risk destroying Mina in any form; making us question in turn whether there really was hope for Lucy the Bloofer Lady--who had killed no one yet!--if only Van Helsing and the Suitor Squad had tried another angle. It makes you chew on the implications.

So, I get it. We all want to save the character we love and who got crushed underfoot by the plot.

The problem comes in when to do that literary rescue, you completely obliterate everything about that character which makes them themselves and not Generic Strong Spunky Female #1897. And the book's summary doesn't give me much hope for this not being the case.

Her name was written in the pages of someone else’s story: Lucy Westenra was one of Dracula’s first victims. But her death was only the beginning. Lucy rose from the grave a vampire and has spent her immortal life trying to escape from Dracula’s clutches—and trying to discover who she really is and what she truly wants. Her undead life takes an unexpected turn in twenty-first-century London, when she meets another woman, Iris, who is also yearning to break free from her past. Iris’s family has built a health empire based on a sinister secret, and they’ll do anything to stay in power. Lucy has long believed she would never love again. Yet she finds herself compelled by the charming Iris while Iris is equally mesmerized by the confident and glamorous Lucy. But their intense connection and blossoming love is threatened by outside forces. Iris’s mother won’t let go of her without a fight, and Lucy’s past still has fangs: Dracula is on the prowl once more. Lucy Westenra has been a tragically murdered teen, a lonesome adventurer, and a fearsome hunter, but happiness has always eluded her. Can she find the strength to destroy Dracula once and for all, or will her heart once again be her undoing?

Now, if the name here was different? If this was, I don't know, 'Lorelei Wilder' thwarting her monstrous master 'Count Lord Duke Dracattackula,' that'd be fine. But the fact that it's trying to convince me that the central character is Lucy Westenra, the girl we know through others' words and her own as a human, and through the lens of others' witness accounts as an apparently merrily content monster as the distorted Bloofer Lady, makes me fear the worst: That our girl's been girlbossed out of recognition.

I won't pass immediate judgment. Maybe it's a hidden gem. Maybe a century's worth of character development has altered Bloofer Lucy into this form believably and the author hasn't just retroactively taken an eraser to everything she was pre and post-vampirism in order to make Standard Rebellious Hero Girl (now with public domain name!). I'll cross my fingers for it.

But I won't hold my breath.

[dany-is-my-queen]

A Question Of Loyalty XIV

Rhaenyra Targaryen x reader, Alicent Hightower x reader

Word count: 3,5k

Summary: When dragons of green and dragons of black dance, you have to choose the color that suits you best.

You took a trembling breath as the brooch slipped from your fingers, its soft clink echoing. The weight of grief, loss, and the burden of choices made.

Although you were tempted to go straight to Dragonstone with Rhaenys' remains, you ended up returning to the capital. There was no hunger for answers, no craving for interactions. All you craved was solitude, for the shock still held you tightly in its grip.

Alicent had dispatched a dozen knights to find you and fetch you safely back. Yet, you eluded their search, deliberately taking the longer path home. Your dragon, wounded by the Scorpion’s quarrels, sought solace in the nearby mountains, nursing its strength back to health.

The Dowager Queen yearned to go to you the moment she discovered your return, but you denied her presence, refusing even the comfort of your beloved Haleana, who sought to console you as well.

You screamed through your casement with intensity, your eyes aflame with a fervor on the brink of eruption. Each muffled shout gradually lost its potency, stifled and quelled until your throat could no longer produce a single vocalization. Your outburst resonated with such force that its echoes reverberated all the way to The Wall, reaching ears that stood at a distance.

Rumors, like wildfire, devoured the truth. They whispered of a shattered mind, accusing you of spilling the blood of the King's men, even the Lord Commander’s. They claimed you failed to shield him from the foe, leaving him grievously wounded. They weaved tales of your supposed treachery, plotting to keep him in that weakened state, with the intent to bring about his demise. They called you a failure.

But those who dared to look beyond the surface, who peered into the depths of your pain, understood. They saw it as a struggle within the bounds of family, an act driven by a daughter's love. To them, your actions were justified, as any child with a compassionate heart would have done the same.

Opinions, divided as they were, held no sway over you. The world's judgment felt insignificant. You berated yourself relentlessly for the inability to intervene as you wished, even though the circumstances were beyond your control. The crushing weight of helplessness enveloped you, intensifying the pain of failing to protect those you held dear. Your efforts always fell short, leaving you to bear the consequences.

With your mother gone, the world lost its balance. Without her, Laena, Laenor.. everything felt askew.

Aegon, weakened and burned, found no strength to cast blame or reproach upon you. Aemond, though visibly perturbed, chose silence over comment. Aegon's throne was now occupied by his brother, the Protector of the Realm, as he languished in his bed, unable to govern. Otto resumed his former position.

—

Days melted into one another. Food lost its flavor, and sleep became a mere facade as you sat, staring blankly through the window.

Alicent faithfully visited you every morning and afternoon, harboring no blame for the choices that led to this. She comprehended the extents of your anguish, understanding the why behind your actions. She refused to see betrayal in the loss of her sworn protector. Instead, she offered genuine concern, striving to uplift your shattered spirit. Yet, you couldn't bear the thought of her wasting her precious time on your sorrow.

"I brought the cake we learned to make together when we first met," Alicent gently shared. Memories danced within her words, evoking the image of your amazed face as you discovered your culinary prowess that surpassed even the most skilled cooks in King's Landing. "You possess a natural talent. It may not be as refined as yours, but I asked them to pour their hearts into it," Alicent concluded, tinged with warmth, hoping to infuse some light into your dim world.

"Thank you, dear," you replied, determined not to let your pain dampen her kindness. She refused to give up.

"Nyke miss ao, issa joraelagon," she stumbled in your second language, her effort endearing to you as you witnessed her struggle.

"Jorrāelagon," you corrected her gently, a flicker of a smile gracing your lips, a rare sight in these times. "You're making progress," you teased, and she returned the smile.

"I need more practice; I cannot disappoint you," she confessed, audaciously leaning against the edge of the bed. The gesture brought you ease rather than discomfort.

Silence enveloped you, and as you turned your gaze, your eyes locked with hers. The delicate intensity in her stare made you feel as fragile as glass.

"I’m sorry, Y/N. And I'm here by your side," she whispered. Your attention lingered on her lips, and instinctively, she closed the gap between you, sealing your connection in a gentle, unintended kiss. Without hesitation, you straddled her, the world around you fading as your lips sought relieve in one another's embrace, drawing breaths that fueled the yearning for each other, not mere oxygen.

As the morning light seeped through the curtains, Alicent continued to cradle you, providing serenity that eased the ache within you.

—

Amidst the gentle morning, bathed in the golden rays of the rising sun, you sat by the gardens. Within this a sanctuary was found in the presence of mother and daughter, their bond deepening over the passing months. Despite Haleana's reservations toward forging connections with others, she let her mother in.

In that very instant, a vow surged. You swore to safeguard them, to offer your very life if need be, for the anguish of losing a mother knows no bounds. There was no sacrifice too great, no price too steep.

Haleana, enveloped in her own musings, excused herself, leaving you alone with Alicent. The stage was set, and you knew the time had come to reveal things. Delayed though it may have been..

Alicent spoke of her brother’s eagerness to delve beyond mere formalities and acquaint himself with you. Succumbing to the game, you matched her jest with lighthearted banter, affirming Gwayne's honorable character and striking handsomeness.

"Handsome?" she exclaimed.

"Indeed, the most handsome Hightower I have ever known," you continued, stoking the fires of mirth within her.

"Shall I summon him to your presence, that you may indulge in a conversation, or perhaps embark on a ride together?" she offered, you feigned to be considering the proposal.

"I find greater excitement in riding dragons than horses," you confessed, your words bearing no hidden innuendo, prompting her laughter to cascade. "What have I said?" An innocent grin adorning your countenance.

"That he is the most handsome Hightower you know," she echoed your earlier words, and you tilted your head ever so slightly, directing your gaze solely upon her.

"And you, my love, are the most beautiful Hightower I have ever beheld," you added. As anticipated, a delicate blush bloomed upon her cheeks. "Though, technically, you are a Targaryen, are you not?"

"The colors of your house adorn me far better, do they not?" she mused. "You have always been black and red.”

"I bear fire and the sea within my veins. Yet, you speak true, for one force will inevitably dominate," you confessed, grappling with the figurative language that danced upon your lips. “Alicent..—“ With a fleeting moment of courage, you closed your eyes briefly, gathering your resolve, and dared to maintain eye contact as you stood on the precipice of baring yourself. Alicent, ever attentive, awaited as you prepared to unveil.

“Your Grace, my Lady," a guard's voice resonated behind you, saluting with reverence. "There are urgent matters that demand your attention. Prince Aemond and Ser Otto await you at the Hand's Tower.”

"Thank you, Ser," Alicent replied, her disappointment hidden beneath a mask of regal composure. Reluctantly, the two of you followed the guard's lead.

Upon entering the Red Keep, Alicent firmly clasped your hand, steadfastly refusing to release it, despite the passing gazes of onlookers. You reciprocated the gesture with an equally firm grip.

Within the confines of the Tower of the Hand, Aemond's scrutinizing gaze met your own, a flicker of concern shadowing his features. Ser Otto, ever disdainful of the bond between you and Alicent, maintained an air of disinterest. The presence of other lords, gathered with intent.

"What unfolds, my son?" Alicent cut through the charged atmosphere.

"The Pretender and her forces have gained an army." Aemond responded.

"An army? Have they sought the aid of sellswords?" your curiosity welled up.

“No, not sellswords, but dragons. One of them being the former companion of your very own," he revealed.

"Vermithor?" He nodded.

"How can such a thing be possible?" Alicent's voice wavered, her confusion mirroring your own.

"According to Lord Strong's spies, your father played a hand in guiding the Princess's actions. Their motivations diverged in the aftermath of Rook's Rest, but time pressed upon them. Weeks were spent in search of riders who could mount the dragons dwelling on Dragonstone. Even Ser Laenor's Seasmoke found a place among their ranks."

"Two dragons then.”

"My sources speak of attempts to tame more, wild dragons. Yet, only one yielded to their will—Sheepstealer."

"The capital would crumble beneath the weight of their dragons. They would descend upon us with six in total," Master Orwyle interjected. The scales tipped in favor of the Blacks, leaving naught but a bleak outlook.

"And how were these dragons tamed?"

"Bastard blood holds an extraordinary power, Your Grace," Larys responded, casting a fleeting glance in your direction. Your anger flared.

"My granddaughter does not ride her dragon. Sunfyre, like the king, languishes in a state of inaction. Only Vhagar and Silverwing stand to defend our city," Otto voiced.

"Silverwing has yet to recover fully. It would be unwise to send her into battle, for her presence may sow more damage than aid," you interjected. In truth, you harbored doubts as to whether you desired involvement in the imminent conflict.

"That is the least you and your dragon could offer after your lackluster performance in the recent incident, my lady," Ser Otto retorted.

Aemond swiftly intervened, commanding and authoritative. "Address Lady Y/N with the respect she deserves, grandfather. We must be prepared for any surprise attacks from the Blacks."

The fate of kingdoms teetered on the edge.

—

As the sun began its descent, casting long shadows over the cobblestone streets of King's Landing, you walked alongside Alicent, she extended an invitation, drawing you into the grandeur of the Great Table.

The Hall echoed with silence as only the two of you sat. The remnants of your interrupted conversation from the morning still lingered, beckoning to be resumed.

"Can you fathom the magnitude of the menace we face?" The very thought of combating so many fully-grown dragons sent shivers down Alicent’s spine. In that moment, the allure of escape, of fleeing the city of chaos with Alicent & Helaena, enticed you. To leave everything behind, to shield your loved ones from further bloodshed, danced on the periphery of your thoughts. Yet, that notion, ephemeral and fragile, dissolved as swiftly as it had appeared. For deep within your being, a burning desire stirred. You yearned to see her.

"We may not have the means to defend ourselves," you admitted.

"And shall we surrender, then? Yielding to her without a fight?" It held a desperate tremor, an echo of the resignation that would inevitably come.

"If your father and Aemond can devise superior strategies, if they can unearth a path to victory, then perchance we may yet elude that fate," you replied, burdened by the uncertainties that lay ahead.

"Whose side will you choose when she arrives?" Her voice betrayed the fear that gripped her heart.

A surge of guilt washed over you as you struggled to find an immediate answer, weary from the ceaseless battles waged within. In the end, it mattered not, for no matter the path you chose, you always questioned if it was the right one.

Shifting the weight of the conversation, you took a long sip of wine, the crimson liquid offering respite. And as the intoxicating warmth coursed through, you began to unburden your chest, the words tumbling forth in a hushed, intimate confession.

"My mother, she believed I harbored resentment, even hatred towards her... When she was imprisoned after King Viserys' death, she revealed the truth of my parentage to me," you confessed, your voice laden with an ache that echoed. A momentary pause allowed the weight of those words to settle. With parched lips, you took another sip.

"I accused her of me being born out of wedlock, of not being hers. And it was then, that she confessed the truth to me," you continued. Alicent's gaze remained fixed upon you, her expression unreadable, allowing you the space to share the depths of your secret.

"The anger within me swelled, for she had never intended to reveal it, and yet Corlys had known all along. He had accepted her, married her. He had accepted me and raised me as a Velaryon, never making me feel any less. For that, I am eternally grateful," you spoke, filled with gratitude.

"My true father was but a sailor, who had got her with child when she was promised to Corlys. He wanted to know me, to be a part of my life... until tragedy befell him, a cruel twist of fate. And that was the end of it. He was from Lys, as handsome as the tales of old, she said.”

Minutes passed, and you remained embraced in silence, leaving Alicent to wonder if it was time to offer her own thoughts.

She cherished the raw honesty that flowed from you, even though it was not the first time she had heard this confession. She understood the tremendous blow it had dealt you when you first learned of your true lineage.

"Perhaps my mother departed this world believing that this revelation was the reason I did not choose to follow her," you confessed, tinged with regret, the specter of missed opportunities lingering.

"But in the end, Y/N, you were by her side. You came to her rescue. In her heart, she knew you harbored no hatred, for it was something you could never possess.”

"I apologize for not confiding in you sooner," you murmured, the weight of your words softened by the realization that you had sought to shield her from the anguish that haunted your past.

"Why did you not?" Her inquiry, gentle and understanding, sought not to condemn but to unravel the complexities of your heart. "Did you genuinely believe... that I would turn you away, knowing your true parentage? You know me better than that, Y/N."

"I could not risk losing you," you confessed, the words weighed down by the fear of abandonment that had silently plagued your thoughts.

"Y/N..."

"I thought you harbored reservations..." The words escaped before you could contain them, abruptly halted as you caught yourself, unwilling to give them a voice.

She finished the sentence for you. "I know you believed that because of the princess's children.I would never turn away from you, Y/N. It pains me that you did not trust me enough to confide in me sooner, but I understand your reasons. And it is alright, truly," Alicent assured you, brimming with warmth and acceptance.

"I love you," you whispered, surrendering yourself to the rest of the night.

—

Rhaenyra recognized the urgency to press forward, as she feared being remembered as the queen who failed to rightfully claim her father's throne—a title she found unappealing and detrimental to her reputation. She had always known Alicent's words were a lie, a deceitful ploy to drive you away for good. Initially, Rhaenyra considered abandoning the fight for the sake of her children's safety, but she reconsidered, she refused to be remembered in such a manner.

For her cause, they had secured three valuable dragons: Sheepstealer, Vermithor, & Seamoke. Seamoke, her ex-husband's mount. She believed him to be alive beyond the Narrow Sea with his lover, Ser Carl. Rhaenyra envied their freedom from the burdens of duty and madness that came with their birthright. In her ideal reality, she pictured a life with you, free from all constraints.

Everything was prepared for their advancement, Jaecerys, the Prince of Dragonstone, was eager to proceed until your alliance with the High Council of the Triarchy altered their plans. Warships had arrived at the Stepstones, leading to a change in strategy. The attack was not only focused on capturing strategic locations but also targeted your father’s ancestral seat, High Tide. As those who entered the Gullet south of Dragonstone faced resistance, Prince Jacaerys fought back on Vermax, but the men from the Free Cities refused to give in. More dragons appeared above the Dragonmont, aiming to eliminate their opposition.

Sadly, the dragon ridden by Rhaenyra's eldest son couldn't withstand the assault and crashed into the sea. The heir to the Throne met a tragic end, struck by multiple arrows and swallowed by the ocean. There was no doubt about the bravery of Jace, just as his younger brother Luke had shown. The news of their demise spread quickly, leaving you with a different kind of helplessness than when you learned about Vhagar's attack on Arrax. You knew your eldest nephew wasn't a craven, and you were certain he fought until his last breath.

If you held faith in the afterlife, in.. realms beyond, you believed that Jace and Luke were now reunited.

You knew Rhaenyra’s assault on the capital was imminent, awaiting the opportune moment.

You also discovered that Daeron, earned the title of ‘Ser Daeron the Daring’. He displayed bravery by saving Lord Ormund and joining the rescue mission at the River Honeywine, becoming the hero of that battle. You knew he didn't claim all the credit for himself; he shared it with his companion & she-dragon, Tessarion, with whom you had shared many adventurous afternoons and joyful moments. Time had transformed him into a courageous, audacious, and kind-hearted lad.

Rhaenyra knew of your loss, for she, too, held deep affection Rhaenys. Upon discovering your deeds in Rook’s Rest, she naively believed you would return home to her. Yet, you did not. Finally, she comprehended that you would no longer choose her, rendering her waiting in vain. She wanted to confront you, face to face, regardless of the outcome. Expectations evaporated, leaving only the desire to extricate you from her mind and heart, allowing her to forge ahead.

—

Aemond, undeterred by counsel and brimming with conviction, persisted in advocating for a daring plan that involved riding forthwith to Daemon's doorstep. His aim was to seize his adversary unawares, ending his life within the ancient walls of Harrenhal, where the Prince had long entrenched himself. With each stride taken toward this perilous objective, Rhaenyra's vulnerability would be amplified, bereft of both husband and one fewer dragon.

Yet, despite the fervent dissuasion voiced by yourself and his mother, he scorned the wisdom proffered by those closest to him. Fuelled by his own impetuous resolve, he hastily sought to mount Vhagar's back, with Otto at his side, who embraced his shared vision.

"Tarry a while longer until your brother is fit for battle. It ill behooves you to court such hazard alone," Alicent implored, her pleas ringing forth with maternal concern.

"Mother, place your trust in my capabilities," he reassured. "Vhagar has emerged unscathed from countless fights, fret not for my well-being." Upon hearing Aemond's declaration, an almost uncontrollable surge of wrath surged within you, tempting you to lunge forward and deliver an instinctual blow upon his unwary countenance. Yet, for the sake of it, you restrained yourself, holding firm against the tempestuous emotions that coursed through your veins. "The defense of the City shall not languish," he proclaimed with unwavering confidence.

"It could, Your Grace," you interjected, your words carefully chosen to maintain a semblance of deference.

"Mark my words, I shall return bearing my uncle's head ensconced within a bloodstained sack, a fitting tribute for you, my Lady," he pronounced, with certainty and unabashed arrogance. In response, you narrowed your gaze, choosing to forsake any further attempt to dissuade him.

"Lady Y/N, I submit that you should accompany Prince Aemond, for it is wiser to traverse this treacherous path with a stalwart companion, who also happens to possess a fierce dragon. And since he spurns aid from Storm's End or his younger brother, it behooves us to act prudently," Lord Jasper proffered.

“My lords, do not misconstrue my decision as an act of cowardice. I will not forsake my post, leaving the Queen Dowager and Queen Haleana vulnerable to the machinations of their adversaries," you proclaimed.

"Fear not, for valiant men stand ready to safeguard them against any who would bring them harm. Knights capable of shielding them from all danger," He continued.

At this juncture, Alicent seized the opportunity to voice her own retort. "No knight can lay claim to greater valor or loyalty than our Lady Y/N," she admonished Lord Jasper. The men within the chamber exchanged furtive glances, and Lord Wylde, could not mask his sense of humiliation.

"'Twas naught but a humble suggestion, Your Grace, yet I shall yield to your wisdom," he conceded with an air of acquiescence.

"Come morrow, I’ll depart," Aemond declared.

~~~~~

Taglist: @nnightskiess @loveislove4 @evattude @lethal-minds @sophiexoxsblog @claymoresword @tired-ninfa @glorioushamsterqueen @alicenter @newcaptainofsquad9 @pindoris @oh-thats-cute @rxscpctals @laenordeservedbetter @voniikg @bugwritesstuff @letlovee-in @urmomsgirlfriend1 @valenciavv @the-camilucha @joliettes @itssecret2109 @i-nail-jello-to-walls @cone-fused-mind

[erzsebetrosztoczy]

hiii . I saw ur requests are open and if u still do fics can u do ac Valhalla hytham x reader? Reader is an artist and hytham enjoys his time with them , also their drawings, maybe he goes through the papers she drew on and sees himself? And he thanks the reader with a kiss.:3

U can change anything u don’t like in this request i just want a fic about my boy hytham .😭😭

Canvas of Secrets

Pairing: Hytham x reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: if you count that i love writing yearning and falling in love with Hytham instead of actually having a relationship with him lol THE YEARNING GUYS HE'S A YEARNINER MATERIAL!!!

Note: I feel like I need to get back into the writing mood, writing vibe because its still off for me??? Lemme know I tried my best with my lil fried brain :(

The mid-morning sun bathed Ravensthorpe in a soft, welcoming light, casting long shadows as villagers busied themselves with their daily tasks. The rhythmic clang of blacksmith's hammers and the lively chatter of merchants created a symphony of everyday life. Amid this bustling activity, Hytham moved with a sense of purpose, his mind focused on his duties as a Hidden One. 

Based on the documents Eivor found, another possible target appeared on the horizon, although he still had to do some research to make sure the information was true.

However, that day somehow work eluded the man as he passed by the edge of the settlement, where a small group of children had gathered around a figure seated on a low stool. Curious, he approached, drawn by the sounds of laughter and the sight of animated faces. Sharp laughter rang out in the air, but not with the usual gaiety of children- instead, he heard a soft, restrained laugh.

As he drew closer, he saw you surrounded by the little ones, gleaming eyes watching you, your hands deftly sketching on a large sheet of parchment. The children watched in awe as you brought a scene to life before their eyes, pencil strokes fluid and confident. You were capturing the essence of a lively market, complete with bustling stalls and cheerful passers-by.

Hytham paused, intrigued not only by your talent but also by the way you engaged the children, patiently answering all their questions, letting them try out anything and everything that piqued interest in their little heart from your work.. You glanced up, sensing his presence, offering him a warm smile.

"Ah, Hytham! Come, join us," you called out, your voice light and inviting. "We're just sketching the market today."

He hesitated for a moment before stepping closer. "I didn't mean to intrude. I was just passing by as I heard your little gathering having a good time." He smiled warmly at you.

You waved off his concern with a flick of your hand. "You're not intruding at all. Here, take a look." You held up the drawing, and Hytham marveled at the intricate details and the lively energy that seemed to emanate from the paper.

"You're incredibly talented," he remarked, genuine admiration in his voice.

You chuckled softly. "Thank you. Drawing has always been my way of capturing the world. It helps me see things more clearly, appreciate the beauty in everyday moments."

Hytham nodded, understanding the sentiment. "I can see that. Your drawings have a way of bringing things to life." Hytham chuckled, his eyes flickering between the drawing and her face, admiring the details and the skill that went into it

A child tugged at your sleeve, drawing your attention back to the group. "Can we draw the animals next?" the child asked eagerly.

"Of course!" you replied, ruffling the child's hair affectionately. "Let's find a good spot near the stables."

As the children gathered their papers and pencils, you turned to Hytham once more. "You're welcome to join us, Hytham."

He nodded in response, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips at her invitation, a rare sight that made your heart skip a beat. He then glanced over at the children and thought for a moment before replying.

Very well. I'll join you. He agreed quietly.

Hytham followed her lead as she guided the children over to a spot near the stables where there was enough room for all of them. As they settled down and everyone began drawing the animals around them, Hytham took a moment to observe the scene before him. He chuckled softly at the children's excited chatter and laughter, enjoying the peaceful atmosphere. The day passed in a blur of laughter, sketches, and shared stories. Hytham found himself returning to your side time and time again, drawn by your infectious enthusiasm and the sense of peace that seemed to radiate from you. He watched as you guided the children's hands, teaching them to see the world through the eyes of an artist.

As the sun began to set and the children dispersed, you and Hytham found yourselves alone by the stables. Whipping your hands on your apron you joined him at the end of the stalls. Hytham leaned back against the wall of the stable idly, his eyes fixated on the setting sun. He chuckled softly, feeling a sense of peace and contentment in the moment. Once the children had left and it was just the two of you left, he turned his gaze towards you. Yours eyes met and he noticed the warm, knowing look in your eyes. You held his gaze for a moment before speaking quietly in a calm voice, breaking the silence between the two of you.

"Thank you for spending the day with us, Hytham. It was nice to have you here."

He nodded, his expression thoughtful. " It was my pleasure to spend the day with you and the children. They're a playful and curious bunch, it was refreshing to be around such innocence. I enjoyed it more than I expected. You have a way of making even the simplest moments feel extraordinary."

You blushed at the compliment, your heart fluttering. "I'm glad you think so. Sometimes, it's the little things that matter most."

He glanced at the drawings scattered around, his gaze lingering on a particularly detailed sketch of a horse. "You have a talent for this, you know. These drawings. They're beautiful."

Your blush deepened, and you looked away, a shy smile tugging at your lips. "Thank you, Hytham. That means a lot."

Hytham noticed the way her blush deepened and how she looked away shyly, his smile softening at the sight of her shyness. He chuckled softly and pushed off the wall of the stable, taking a few steps closer to her.

“It's the truth.” He stated softly, his gaze fixed on her with a warm, genuine look in his eyes as he spoke. “You have a gift for capturing beauty on paper.”

 "This has always brought the greatest happiness to my life." You replied, crossing your arms in front of your chest, walking up to the wall and joining him to admire the colors of the setting sun. "The days pass quickly, and we often forget the things that bring us happiness as time goes on. There are memories I don't want to forget. So I learned how to preserve them.”

“And that gift will last a lifetime.” He replied softly, his eyes fixed on the gorgeous hues of orange and red as the sun descended below the horizon.”Memories are important. They make us who we are, after all.” 

"They do," you murmured softly, a smile playing on your lips. "Memories shape us in ways we sometimes don't realize until much later."

Hytham nodded thoughtfully, his eyes still fixed on the horizon where the sun had disappeared. "I never used to think much about memories," he admitted quietly. "My life as a Hidden One demanded focus on the present and the future. But being here with you, experiencing these moments... I realize how much they matter."

You reached out, your fingers brushing against his. "I'm glad you feel that way, Hytham. It's important to cherish the moments that make us feel alive."

Hytham's gaze flickered towards her at the feeling of her fingers brushing against his. A touch that sent a small shiver up his spine. He looked back at her with a softened gaze and a small, warm smile.

“And moments like this?” He gestured with his head to the setting sun and then to their surroundings in the stables, his smile growing slightly. “Are they moments that will stay with you in memory?”

You considered his question, taking in the peaceful scene around you—the gentle rustling of the leaves, the faint scent of hay, and the quiet companionship between you both. The beauty of the moment seemed to intensify with his presence beside you.

"Yes," you replied softly, meeting his gaze. "When shared with someone special, they become the heartbeats of our memories. They're the ones we carry with us, even as time passes."

Hytham's eyes held a gentle intensity as he listened, a small smile playing on his lips. He seemed to absorb your words, savoring the tranquility of the moment, the connection between you both.

He leaned closer, his breath mingling with yours in the cool evening air. "And I want to make more memories like this—with you," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, overwhelmed by the sincerity and depth of his feelings. You reached out, cupping his cheek gently in your hand. "I want that too, Hytham," you replied softly, as if afraid this moment  will disappear if spoken out loud. 

He closed his eyes briefly, leaning into your touch. "Then let's cherish this one," he murmured, his lips brushing against yours in a tender kiss that spoke of promises yet to be made, and a future waiting to unfold..

Hytham leaned into the touch of your hand on his cheek, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he reveled in the sensation of your touch and words. He felt a wave of emotions swelling within him—a mixture of gratitude, hope, and a sense of belonging he had long suppressed, and he couldn't deny the longing that stirred in his heart at the thought.

As he opened his eyes and looked at you, a soft, vulnerable look in his eyes, he took in your beauty under the golden light...

You reached up, gently threading your fingers through his hair, cherishing the softness of his dark locks beneath your touch.

Hytham's heart skipped a beat at the feeling of your fingers in his hair. He let out a low, almost inaudible sigh, closing his eyes momentarily as he enjoyed the sensation of your touch. It was a simple gesture, but it felt intimate and tender, a connection that seemed to deepen with every passing moment.

He swallowed, his words barely above a whisper as he spoke, his voice tinged with a hint of vulnerability and tenderness."I've long kept my heart guarded, hidden beneath the weight of duty and the shadows of my past," Hytham murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes remained closed, savoring the intimacy of your touch, the way your fingers threaded through his hair with such gentleness.

"But with you," he continued softly, opening his eyes to meet yours, "it feels as though the walls I've built around myself are slowly crumbling. Your presence... your touch... they awaken something within me that I thought I had lost."

His admission hung in the air, vulnerable yet filled with an honesty that spoke of deeper emotions. The golden light of the setting sun cast a warm glow over both of you, lending an almost ethereal quality to the moment.

You felt your heart swell with tenderness at his words, understanding the weight they carried. Gently, you let your hand caress his cheek, your touch conveying comfort and acceptance. "Hytham," you whispered, your voice soft with emotion, "you don't have to carry that weight alone anymore. I'm here, and I want to share whatever burdens you carry."

Hytham's gaze softened at your words, and he reached up, gently resting his hand over yours as it gently caressed his cheek.

"Thank you," he murmured sincerely, his voice filled with gratitude. "For seeing beyond the surface, for... for accepting me."

You nodded, a small smile touching your lips as you met his gaze with unwavering compassion. "You've shown me glimpses of who you are beneath the armor, Hytham," you replied softly. "And what I see... it's someone deserving of love and happiness."

The evening breeze stirred around you, carrying with it the quiet intensity of the moment. You stood together, bathed in the fading light of the sun, united in a bond that grew deeper with each shared revelation and tender touch.

When the world around you settled into dusk, you knew that this moment marked a new chapter—a chapter where walls crumbled, hearts opened, and the promise of a future filled with understanding and love blossomed under the gentle caress of an evening's embrace.

[mysticalprincesskitten]

Aegon II Targaryen x OC // House of the Dragon fanfic

Soft!Dark!Aegon II Targaryen x OFC, kinda Yandere!Aegon

Trigger warnings: darkish themes, bondage, kidnapping, kinda yandere?? Targcest, OC is Viserys and Aemma's daughter, OC is named Daenerys, OC looks like Elizabeth Olsen in my head, also total self-insert

“Well isn’t this a pleasing sight.”

Aegon sauntered into the royal bedchambers with new confidence bestowed by his stolen crown. Bound to the king's bed, Daenerys could only turn her head away. Aegon approached, slipping his fingers beneath her jaw and tilting her face towards him.

She snapped her teeth, drawing blood. He yanked his hand away.

“So spirited,” he jested. “Have I woken the dragon, sweet sister?”

Daenerys ignored him. He wanted to hear her voice. She would not give him that comfort.

Aegon sighed. Footsteps sounded; Daenerys glimpsed Aegon’s back, clad in green velvet with golden dragons sewn into the brocade, as the usurper king - her husband - poured a goblet of wine and drank it in two long gulps. When he whirled to face her, his lips were stained red.

“You forced my hand! You tried to attack me. I had to take precautions.” He motioned to the rope binding her wrists and ankles to the ornate wooden bed. “Would you rather I throw you in the black cells beneath the Red Keep?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t mean that.”

She didn’t. It stung worst of all; how she still couldn’t help but feel whole in his presence, his fire calling to hers, the blood of the dragon. Aegon had always been by her side. First as a baby brother she had cared for like a doll (whenever she hadn’t been with Rhaenyra, both of them their last remaining link to their mother Aemma), then as her partner in mischief, then as the man she loved. They had always known they would marry. Father had betrothed Aegon and Daenerys mere moons following Aegon's birth, three years after Daenerys. Otto Hightower had encouraged the betrothal. The green leech had no doubt planned to use Daenerys as a hostage against Rhaenyra.

And she had flown straight into his trap.

Daenerys sighed. Her chest ached; she missed Grey Ghost, her most faithful companion, the wild dragon who had chosen her on the cliffs of Dragonstone when she was nine. Where was he? Had he eluded Aemond and Vhagar? The dragon could have returned to Dragonstone by now. She yearned to be with him, to feel the wind on her face as they soared above the clouds.

Her wings had been clipped. Tethered to Aegon’s bed, Daenerys was grounded, caged like Dreamfyre and the other dragons in the Dragonpit.

Aegon sensed her distress. “It doesn’t have to be like this,” he said gently. Pleading. “Please, Naerys. You can be queen. My queen.”

“Our sister is the true queen.”

“No, no! Father changed his mind, my mother told me-“

“Your mother will believe any delusion that affirms her desires!”

Aegon’s face hardened. “You do not believe in me.” Eyes watering, he poured another goblet of wine.

“I have always believed in you,” she said softly, almost whispering. “It is my weakness. I should have flown with Rhaenyra to Dragonstone when I had the chance, let your mother betroth you to Helaena…”

“Do not say that,” said Aegon sharply. He was next to her now, towering over her. She strained against the rope, trying to squirm away, even as her blood stirred. But Aegon had had enough of her resistance; his hand gripped her chin, hard enough to immobilize her jaw so she couldn’t bite him. He forced her eyes to his.

“You are mine,” he promised. “My wife. My queen. You were meant for me, and I for you. You will see. This is how it was meant to be. I will rule the Seven Kingdoms with you at my side.”

He leaned closer, whispering in her ear, “And I shall never let you leave me again.”

[ash-and-books]

Rating: 4/5

Book Blurb:

A vampire escapes the thrall of Dracula and embarks on her own search for self-discovery and true love in this epic and seductive gothic fantasy from the #1 New York Times bestselling author of Hide.

“Fiercely empowering and gloriously vengeful.”—Heather Walter, award-winning author of Malice

Her name was written in the pages of someone else’s story: Lucy Westenra was one of Dracula’s first victims.

But her death was only the beginning. Lucy rose from the grave a vampire and has spent her immortal life trying to escape from Dracula’s clutches—and trying to discover who she really is and what she truly wants.

Her undead life takes an unexpected turn in twenty-first-century London, when she meets another woman, Iris, who is also yearning to break free from her past. Iris’s family has built a health empire based on a sinister secret, and they’ll do anything to stay in power.

Lucy has long believed she would never love again. Yet she finds herself compelled by the charming Iris while Iris is equally mesmerized by the confident and glamorous Lucy. But their intense connection and blossoming love is threatened by outside forces. Iris’s mother won’t let go of her without a fight, and Lucy’s past still has fangs: Dracula is on the prowl once more.

Lucy Westenra has been a tragically murdered teen, a lonesome adventurer, and a fearsome hunter, but happiness has always eluded her. Can she find the strength to destroy Dracula once and for all, or will her heart once again be her undoing?

Review:

A sapphic take on Dracula told from the perspective of Lucy as she recounts both her past and her present in a story about revenge filled with betrayal, romance, and vampires! Lucy Westenra is known for being one of Dracula's victims... and in this new take we follow Lucy from the beginning as we go past her death to the present day. Lucy and Mina were inseparable and it's known that Lucy had famous suitors, yet the moment she becomes a vampire what truly happens to her? In this story we explore Lucy's side of events as she grapples with her choices and her forbidden love, as she deals with a whole new life style and the thirst for revenge against the monster that turned her. Spanning decades, we see her grow and see her hunt down the vampire who continues to elude her... and then she meets Iris, the first person to see her for herself and to love her wholly. Iris has her own secrets though... secrets that could destroy them both. Can Lucy's past and Iris's own dysfunctional family tear them apart or can they find a way to work together and overcome it all? If you love unique takes on characters that further flesh them out and give a fresh take on the classic story, absolutely add this book to your tbr. As a huge fan of Dracula and a lover of sapphic vampire stories, this book hit all my boxes. It's a delightful read that manages to keep both the true gothic undertones of the original story while adding a fresh new spin that will absolutely captivate you while you read it.

Release Date: September 10,2024

Publication/Blog: Ash and Books (ash-and-books.tumblr.com)

Author Info: Website

Book Tour: TBR Beyond Tours

*Thanks Netgalley, Random House Publishing Group - Ballantine | Del Rey, and @tbrbeyondtours for sending me an arc in exchange for an honest review and being part of the book tour.

[ravensliterature]

A/N: Request done!

pairing: Thranduil x Black! Reader

warnings: Fluff

w/c: 560

Prompt: 

I love your writing!! please make this as long or short as you want!!

Can you write about Thranduil on wash day with a black reader!

I think it would be really cute! 

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Once upon a time in the enchanting realm of Mirkwood, King Thranduil, a wise and noble ruler, found himself in a predicament. His beloved wife, Queen Y/N, seemed to have vanished from their grand palace. Concern etched itself upon Thranduil's regal face as he searched high and low, through the sprawling halls and lush gardens, desperately hoping to find his missing queen.

The sun began to set, casting long shadows across the forest. Thranduil's heart grew heavy with worry. He summoned his loyal guards and advisors, instructing them to comb every inch of the palace and surrounding woods for any sign of Y/N. Night fell, and Thranduil's anxiety deepened. Sleep eluded him as he imagined countless scenarios, each more troubling than the last.

Just as dawn was about to break, hope sparked within Thranduil's weary heart. He hurriedly ascended the grand staircase leading to his chambers, determined to check their private quarters one last time. With each step, his mind raced with thoughts of his beloved queen. Had she fallen victim to an unforeseen danger? Had she grown tired of their life together and decided to venture elsewhere? Thranduil's thoughts were filled with apprehension.

Pushing open the ornate doors, Thranduil's eyes darted across the dimly lit room until they fell upon a familiar figure. There, by the vanity mirror, stood Queen Y/N. Her raven-black curls, in need of care and attention.

Relief washed over Thranduil, but it quickly gave way to curiosity and a sense of admiration for his resolute queen. He approached her with soft steps, not wanting to startle her.

"My love, I have been searching the kingdom for you," Thranduil gently spoke, his voice carrying a mix of relief and concern.

Y/N turned to face him, her eyes filled with surprise and relief. "Thranduil, my king, I apologize for causing you worry. I have been here all along, preparing for wash day. My hair needed attention."

Thranduil's gaze softened, his heart swelling with affection. He moved closer to Y/N, his hands yearning to help her. "Allow me, my queen. Let me aid you in tending to your glorious mane."

Y/N smiled, grateful for her husband's presence and understanding. She handed Thranduil a brush, and together they began to unravel the knots and tangles that had taken hold of her beautiful curls. With each gentle stroke, Thranduil's worries dissolved, replaced by a deep connection with his wife.

As they worked in unison, Thranduil marveled at the love and strength that radiated from Y/N. He realized how fortunate he was to have such a remarkable partner by his side. Their union transcended the boundaries of their differences, weaving together a tapestry of understanding, respect, and devotion.

Time seemed to stand still in that moment, as if the universe was revealed in the harmony between the king and queen. Thranduil's hands moved with care and tenderness, while Y/N's eyes sparkled with affection and appreciation.

When they finally finished, Y/N's curls regained their natural luster and elegance. She turned to face Thranduil, her eyes shimmering with gratitude. "Thank you, my king, for your unwavering love and for embracing every part of me."

Thranduil took Y/N's hands in his own, his gaze filled with adoration. "You are the light of my life, Y/N. I vow to cherish and support you always."

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[greetingfromthedead]

8. Eye of the Storm

Series: Mermaid!AU Depth of Despair

Pairing: Vash x GN!Reader

Word count: 2.2k

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You threw your life away. No matter how you look at it, you arrive at the same conclusion. It is your burden to bear, and yours alone. Vash should not suffer because of you; he should be able to move on with his life. You want him to be happy, and forget the nightmares you must have left him with. He saw you, everything about you. And he will never be able to erase that image from his mind. He saw who you really are, submerged in the water where you belong. He saw the monster, and you lifted the glamour that would blind him to your true nature. You cannot hide from his gaze anymore, and you hope you never have to, because the guilt is already eating you alive.

At first, you swam away, heading for the distant horizon you have never been to before, but the further you got, the heavier your heart felt. It doesn't feel right to leave Vash behind, hoping he will survive and simply leave all these horrors behind him. Nicholas knows about him; others probably do too. They will make him a target just to spite you. Vash won't be safe from your kin anymore. None of this is his fault, so you cannot turn your back on him.

And so you remain. A sentry not to your people but to your enemy. Lingering near enough to the shore to know if anyone tries to make their way up the river to where Vash lives. You are careful not to be seen by anyone, not by humans or other merfolk. Loneliness quickly creeps into your bones. Vash had given you a taste of companionship, understanding, and friendship, but now it only serves as a bitter reminder of the weight of your misdeeds.

You glide along the sandy ocean floor, the sea grass brushing against the scales on your back, caressing the fins and your long tail. It is dark, but sleep has eluded you for a while. The minimal magic found in raw fish meat keeps you going, but physically, you still feel exhausted and weak. The warm light from the lighthouse shimmers at the tips of the waves, glimmering as you keep watch. At first, everything is quiet; only the lapping of the waves against the beaches and reefs lulls your mind away from thoughts of guilt and doom. But then you notice something else. A different rhythm disturbs the currents, and you recognize it as oars hitting the water, propelling what must be a small boat. You pay it no mind; the humans don't interest you anymore; you keep away and just let the fishermen go about their business. You're somewhat glad for the nets they string up in the bay area; it keeps others away, and you've learned to be careful and even steal fish from the traps. You would have brushed it all off and ignored it if a faint and distorted melody didn't mix with the splashes of the oars. You recognize it as one you've heard the drunken sailors sing in the ports and on their boats. A very old song.

In the moonlit waves, where the sea meets sky, A sailor’s heart beats with a longing sigh. He sails the ocean, both near and far, Dreaming of his love, beneath the evening star.

It stirs you from your absentmindedness back into reality. You can only barely make out the words being sung, but you've always listened from the shadows of the pier when others have picked up a song, this one being among the favorites of the locals.

Oh, the sea, it whispers tales of woe, Of a sailor’s love in the depths below. With a heart so true, and a soul so free, He yearns for his mermaid, beneath the sea.

This time the shanty isn't accompanied by many slurry voices or a happy instrument. Instead, it sounds sad and haunting. The lone male voice sings by himself, to whom you do not know. Nobody answers or lends their voice to the melody. The longing, mournful notes echo through the water and draw you closer.

Her eyes like pearls, her hair like gold, A beauty so rare, a sight to behold. In the silent depths, where the shadows play, She sings a song that guides his way.

The timbre of the voice sounds familiar even through the disruption of the water, nearly disappearing into the crashing of the currents as the unruly surface of the sea forms tufts of sea foam that skip along the tips of the waves. You swim underneath the simple little boat. Your body is longer than the vessel facing off the rolling tides and stormy winds.

But the waves, they keep them far apart, A cruel fate for a sailor’s heart. So he sails on, through storm and tide, With the hope that one day she’ll be by his side.

You don't bother to wait and to hide your changing form. Your webbed hands take hold on the edge of the boat, your claws scraping the wood before they start to retract. You hoist yourself up enough to see over the edge, salty water dripping from your hair, and the scales and gills disappear from your skin as you inhale the sweet, dry air. The lantern swinging from a hook at the rear of the boat casts light onto your face as the large catlike pupils turn human.

"Is being human really so tedious that one must voluntarily tempt death?" you ask the man clad in red. His eyes widened the moment you appeared, and the melody stopped too as his mouth remained agape at the sight before him. "I told you to stay away from water. Yet here you are."

"I had to see you." Vash says after a moment of gathering himself. He lifts up the oars and puts them into the boat. He looks ready to get out of his seat to come to you as he leans closer. "You left so suddenly, I didn't even get a word out."

"What is there left to say?" You ask as you pull yourself along the side of the boat until you are next to him, the boat tipping towards you.

"More than I am capable of saying." Vash leans closer, his hands supporting his burly form on the same edge you hang off from. "Why did you just leave? Please, tell me."

"I didn't want to hear the terror in your voice." You reply simply, pulling yourself a touch closer to him to see any small change in his dimly lit expression. "Are you not afraid of me?"

"No," he says softly, a hint of a smile dancing on one corner of his mouth. "Why would I be afraid of you? You have never hurt me, or caused me harm. You brought me back to the beach, back to safety. You protected me from one of your own."

"I am a monster," you remind him, "someone your songs caution sailors about."

"You are not a monster. You're a creature from the depths of the sea. You may not be entirely human, but that doesn't make you a monster. Flowers are different from one another, but that doesn't diminish them. It doesn't take away from their marvel." His hand shifts from the edge of the boat to your damp cheek. "You are otherworldly, a beauty beyond the human realm. Inside and out, you are gorgeous. You always are."

"You can see through the glamour now. Look again, and you won't be fooled by the devious magic of my kin." One of your hands grabs hold to the arm that reaches for you.

"I see no difference. From the day I first saw you until this very moment, you look the same—your beautiful self. I don't know what glamour you speak of; I only know what my eyes tell me." He says tenderly, leaning further and further, risking turning his boat over to see you close. His forehead nearly touches yours.

His words make no sense to you. How could he not notice the glamour disappearing? Is the hag stone not working? He would have had to obey your command to stay away from the water if it didn't. Even now, you can see the pebble hanging from the leathery strap around his neck, and you sense your magic in it. What he sees must be the truth; at least when it comes to you.

Compared to most others of your kin, you indeed might look more human in the water, a lot less unsettling than those who have amassed their power and strength, but on the surface, everyone has a human appearance that looks convincing enough to fool anyone unweary. It is a strange irony when it comes to your kind: the more power you gather, the more monstrous your true appearance will become, but on dry land, your glamour will make you even more beautiful to any human being. The moment they lay eyes on a siren, their perception will shatter like glass. Perhaps you are simply so weak that he doesn't notice a difference. You've never talked to a human before him, so you wouldn't know.

"But there is another reason I needed to see you again." Vash continues, but then suddenly stops. The only sound filling the air is the sound of the waves. "I waited for you in the bay; I sent flowers to the open water in hopes you would find them. I can't get you off my mind."

You now feel both his hands cupping your face. You're surprised he hasn't yet fallen into the water with how he leans over the edge. Vash's face is so close; with each sway of the boat, the warm skin of his forehead brushes against yours. You can feel the heat of his breath on your lips and the longing in your heart. The sweet scent of his magic wafts over you like the tide.

"You kissed me." He says so quietly that the words barely reach your ears over the sound of water.

"I had to. A mermaid's kiss will grant you breath, even underwater. You would have drowned otherwise." You answer honestly. It is the truth, just not all of it.

"I see. Of course. That's all it was." Vash nods and pulls back, giving you more room as he leans away, his long-fingered hands releasing your face. He looks unusual. It might be the long shadows cast on his face by the lighthouse and the lantern, but his eyes look different now; the familiar laughter and warmth mix with a hint of sorrow.

You will forever continue to hurt him. No matter what you do, he will be in pain. Your heart still skips in your chest as he pulls more into the boat, and you release the arm you still held on to. You can still hang on to the feeling of his warm skin against yours, as you know you need to let go. You cannot give in to the longing in your chest. His eyes look dark, like the night sky, and his pale skin is reminiscent of the shade of seafoam under the pale moonlight. He doesn't let you retract your arm away from him, instead grabbing on to your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours.

"It doesn't change the fact that you haunt me. Every waking hour, you're all I can think about. Every night, I dream of you." He suddenly says, more insistently than before. "How can I stay away from water if that's where I can find you? You did enchant me with everything you are, and I finally heard your voice."

Everything about him draws you closer. You reach out your other hand towards his face, the sorrowful lines around his eyes deepening as he looks at you with a mixture of longing and sadness. His skin is warm, with a flush of pink brought on by the wind and your touch. His eyes soften as he leans closer again. His hand that holds yours pulls it closer, pressing it gently against his breast. You feel his chest rise and fall with each breath. You only have eyes for him—the shadows dancing on his face and between your bodies. In that moment, nothing else exists in your world except for him, his parted lips, and the warmth of his touch.

Neither of you see through the glimmer on the surface of the water; you don't notice the shadows looming in the inky blackness until they surround you. Hands reach out from the sea, scaly and wet. The long webbed fingers grab hold of your shoulders and your hair, talons digging into the flesh of your arms as they pull you away. You feel more hands grab hold of your tail, dragging you down into the dark abyss below.

It all happens in an instant. The last thing you hear is Vash calling out your name as the waves crash in over you, his fingers slipping from your grasp. The changelings around you hiss and wail, their eyes glowing in the darkness as they close in. There are too many of them to fight off, their claws and teeth dig into your flesh as the fiery glimmer of the lighthouse on the water's surface disappears into the murky darkness of the ocean.

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[imagine-that-one-thing]

Her majesty || The Re-Write

Snippet of “her Majesty” rewrite. I have absolutely loved re-writing this fanfic in my spare time and it has been one of my favourite secrets to keep, as I have changed the storyline. It has taken me quite a while to write the chapters I have, but I have throughly thought this process out. I’m still trying to figure out some details and plots but I’m ready to share a small snippet of what arose today. I’m not entirely sure I want to keep the title as “Her Majesty” or if I want to change the title to “Veil of Glass.” Feel free to let me know your thoughts and ideas!

Also, I adore the new portrayal of Anna and Harry. He’s soft but not too soft and she’s determined to stand on her own two feet and not have Harry save her every time she needs a saving grace.

Snippet of chapter 4

He walks back towards me, his steps deliberate, his gaze unwavering. Taking my hand in his, he speaks softly, his voice filled with a depth of emotion that tugs at my heartstrings, "If you want me to stay, tell me now."

It feels as though the tenderness of his voice is ripping me open to my core, forcing me to fall within his trans, and my turmoil threatens to boil over me.

A whirlwind of conflicting emotions swirls within me. I yearn for him to stay, to wrap me in his embrace and chase away the shadows of doubt. Yet, I hesitate, unable to articulate the tangled mess of thoughts and feelings that hold me back.

Caught between the desire to be strong and the fear of revealing my vulnerability, I falter. The words catch in my throat, a silent plea lingering on my lips, as I struggle to make sense of the tumultuous storm raging within me.

As I watch him step back, a wave of panic crashes over me, threatening to drown me in its suffocating embrace, breath my breath, slowly drowning me. I've always prided myself on standing strong, on never needing anyone to lean on. But now, in this moment of uncertainty, I feel the ground beneath me slipping away, leaving me teetering on the edge of an abyss I never knew existed.

What is going on? I’m suffocating on my own air.

Amidst the opulence of this royal court, where every move is scrutinized and every word is weighed, I've never felt more alone. The weight of my position, the burden of expectation, it all presses down on me, threatening to crush my lungs beneath its relentless force.

And yet, amidst the chaos of my own inner turmoil, one thought burns brighter than all the rest: the fear of losing him. Not to the monarchy, not to the whispers of court intrigue, but to the vast expanse of uncertainty that lies beyond these gilded walls. What if he walks away and never comes back? What if I'm left to face this world alone, with nothing but memories to keep me company? What a painful and sorrowful life that would be to live.

The answers elude me, slipping through my fingers like grains of sand, leaving me grasping at shadows in the dark. All I truly know is that I want him to stay tonight, to chase away the demons that haunt my dreams and soothe the ache that lingers in the depths of my soul. But I can't bring myself to ask him to put off his plans, whatever they may be, to sacrifice his own desires for the sake of my fleeting whim.

So I stand there, silent and still, my heart aching with a longing I dare not voice, as he waits for my answer, his eyes searching mine for a glimpse of the truth that lies buried beneath the surface of my stoic facade.

Finally, I find myself. I swallow hard and I shake my head, “I will be just fine,” I fake a smile, praying to the man upstairs that I can compose myself and keep my integrity intact. I am not going to stumble over my own emotions. “You’re going to miss your flight if you keep standing here waiting for me to break down, telling you that I need you to stay.”

He heavily sighs, aware that not only am I lying, but I am also telling the truth— a true paradox and conundrum of unknown, undesired emotions that I cannot piece together.

End chapter

I would like to add that I played around with an AI to help convey the emotions more effectively and to escalate the tone I was trying to persuade. I’m utterly impressed at how much it truely helped and how it guided the vision I had and helped articulate it into words. All of these chapters, I visually see in my head and sometimes it’s hard describing the exact emotion my characters are feeling or describing exactly what I see. Anyways, if you’ve managed to read this far, thank you! I hope you have liked my sudden sharing of a chapter I’ve kept hidden for over a year. Oops.