#are the dread fears your play things child

[muffinlance]

Toddler: I am going to make a panopticon hover craft

And then he did

[sherlock-is-ace]

the imposter syndrome i feel every time i even slightly think i might be autistic is insane, specially for a person who highly relates to the lived experiences of people who are professionally diagnosed.

Like I was just watching this one youtuber, and she was talking about very specific examples in her life and childhood where she saw autistic traits that made her realize she was autistic and then seek a diagnosis and then get one, and everything she was saying was like she was describing my life! But yeah no, I can't be autistic tho

[foreverdolly]

࿔ SAVAGE BONDS part 5 『 feyd rautha x atreides!reader 』

summary: destined to one another since conception, your very life belongs to feyd rautha. as a token of good will you are sent to the strange planet of giedi prime a week before your wedding ceremony, only to learn that it is far more hostile than you imagined it would be. a failed assassination attempt has tempers flaring and sparks flying when it is decided to be safer to sleep alongside feyd. you hate to admit it, but he has played the part of a "protector" better than the guards who were tasked to watch over you. whilst you have been dreading this union all of your life, feyd has been anticipating it. meeting you as children had left him awe-struck. . . and a bit obsessed.

warnings: !SMUT HEAVY IN FUTURE PARTS!, feyd is super overprotective in this fic and kills multiple people in your honor, blood and gore, it's a dark romance folks, political marriage, forced proximity, temporary unrequited love, a lil dubious consent in some scenes, there's a lot of talk about breeding, enemies to lovers (in your mind, not his), there's a "who did this to you" scene, knife play, blood kink, breeding kink heavy, lots of scent marking/marking.

word count: 6.6k

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“Move.” 

He was like an impenetrable wall. 

You attempted yet again to step around Feyd, your outstretched hand just barely brushing against the door before the man turned his body, blocking you from the exit. He stood with his arms crossed, using his much larger frame as a barricade. After the. . . events that transpired last night, the only thing that was on your mind was freedom. You needed breathing room, if only for a few minutes. Feyd had been your shadow for the last three days. He hadn’t left your side even for a second. 

You wanted to trust him, even against your better judgment, so you tried to believe that it was only because he wanted to protect you. There was still that overly cautious voice nagging at you, telling you that he was looking for weaknesses to use against you later. His all-seeing eyes could be sizing you up, making note of how many bites it would take for him to swallow you up whole. The last thing you wanted was to be consumed by this place. . .  Consumed by him.  

The events that had transpired in your guest bedroom four days ago had your suspicions rising, and you needed to be certain that you were just paranoid before you could even begin thinking about your fast approaching wedding ceremony. 

You had feared your impending fate for the entirety of your life. That had always been the one thing that frightened you most, and yet here you were, bruised and battered. It was crazy to believe that there were people on Geidi Prime that were worse than Feyd-Rautha. . . and yet here you were, depending on him for safety. You needed answers. 

How had the guard even entered your room in the first place? 

“I won’t tell you again. Move.” Your jaw ached, teeth grinding together as you tried to keep yourself from striking him across that cocky face of his. 

The skin between his brow bones wrinkled ever-so-slightly as he stared down at you. It was almost as though he was scolding a small child, watching them flail and cry after their punishment had been dealt. Last you had checked, you’d done nothing wrong. Why were your basic rights being revoked after the attempted murder? Why did it feel like you were the one paying the price? 

“Either you come with me and train or you stay in our room until I grab you. You have two choices. Pick one.” The pale Na-Baron almost seemed bored of your antics and you couldn’t blame him. 

You’d been fighting him every chance you got ever since he had forced himself on you last night. A silent vow had been made right then and there: you were going to make his life a living hell, only stopping once you deemed he had done his proper penance. 

“I like neither of those options. Watching you train has done nothing for me. I want to learn-” 

“You don’t need to learn how to fight. Is it not the husband’s duty to protect his wife?” He tilted his head to the side, staring down at you with a hint of concern in his eyes. 

Why was he so obsessed with the idea of protecting you? The most he did while the two of you “trained” was block your onslaught of attacks. Gurney wasn’t afraid to hit you in the sparring ring, even if you ended up injured and butt-hurt. He was blunt and told you the ways that you could improve yourself, meanwhile Feyd had been treating you like you were made of porcelain ever since the assassination attempt. You hated it. With your vocal cords still fried from the strangulation, you were made all too aware of the fact that your fighting skills were subpar. 

You’d tried goading Feyd into attacking you head on many times, but no matter what you said he still held his punches. The difference between his treatment of you and other’s was startling. Someone could look at him wrong and he was immediately jumping down their throats, ready to strike with lethal precision. 

“One day you will have to leave me alone, if even for a few minutes. . . and what then? You can’t always be there-” You were trying desperately to explain, and yet he would hear none of it. He looked almost offended by what you were saying. 

“I will always be here,” He was quick to interject, eyes suddenly wild. “I won’t let anything hurt you again.” 

Realistically you knew that your heart shouldn’t be pounding the way that it was. 

Still, there it was, hammering away in your chest. Every once in a while it was almost as though that dark veil that he had cast over himself was lifted, revealing someone entirely new to you. Someone, as much as you hated to admit it, that was entirely too likable. Loveable, even. His constant changes in personality were starting to give you whiplash. Was he someone completely different when he was around you? Or was he just trying on different faces to see which one you liked better? 

You clenched your fists at your side, trying hard to calm your raging emotions. His actions last night were completely barbaric, and yet you couldn’t forget the softness of his lips. The warmth of his mouth over yours had plagued your dreams and made it impossible to sleep. It was insane of you to feel this conflicted about something. You should hate everything about this man, and yet here he was, promising to be your protector. More than that, he was promising to stick around, which was arguably more terrifying. 

“I’m going then. Will you not be coming with me?” He unfolded his arms, reaching a hand out for you to take. 

It hung there in the space between you two, his pale fingers twitching. For a second you contemplated taking it. Regretfully you realized that you had something that you needed to look into. 

“I’ll stay here,” You faltered when you saw the hint of rejection in his eyes as he let his hand fall back to his side. “My bruises are tender today, so I’ll just take a bath.” 

Why were you trying to make him feel better about your refusal? This was all too confusing. 

“Alright then. I’ll see you in an hour.” And with that he turned on the heel of his boot and walked through the door, careful to close it tightly behind him. 

You breathed a sigh of relief, moving forward so that you could press your forehead against the cool metal. It felt good against your flushed skin. 

“I won’t leave until I hear you slide the lock into place.” His deep voice was muffled behind the thick barrier between the two of you. 

You closed your eyes tightly, sliding your hand against the door until you found the lock, clicking it soundly into place. It must have appeased him, as you heard his retreating footsteps just a second later. 

Time ticked by as you waited to be free of your newfound guardian. The last thing you wanted was to be caught in the hallway sneaking around. Feyd would surely side with his uncle if you were to tell him all about your suspicions, so you’d rather just investigate on your own until you had solid evidence. You wanted to believe that you hadn’t been set up to die, and yet you had this intense gut feeling that this all went even deeper than that. 

Why would they make good on the promised engagement if they just wanted to kill you? It’s not like you were any real threat, other than the fact that you had been blessed with your mother’s gifts. As you were now, you were basically useless, which was a very hard pill to swallow. 

Slowly you unlocked the door, scared that the sound might alert someone. You had slipped the knife you had stolen during your first dinner on Giedi Prime into your belt, hiding it under the flowing black gauze of your blouse for good measure. Even if you were caught, you needed some way to protect yourself. 

The cold metal bit into your skin as you slid the door open, reminding you that you were safe. You will never let anyone hurt you like that again. 

This time you will be ready. 

Two rights and then three lefts. You had memorized the way to go in order to get to the left wing for this very reason. The Baron’s defenses would be tight, but his office would be relatively empty around this time. It was just about lunch, and according to Feyd he would retire to his personal quarters. If you could distract the guards for long enough to slip in, riffle around for information, and then get out. . . you’d be home free. 

You wiped your sweaty palms on your skirt as you walked through the hall, training your expression to one of stony indifference. Modeling it after Feyd’s, you briskly made your way, hoping that the guards would be confused enough to let you pass without so much as a second thought. 

‘I belong here.’ You lied to ourself, trying to bolster your confidence. 

A few men in uniform turned to look after you, but no one stopped you. The way to the baron’s office was completely new to you. Feyd had never taken you this deep into the left wing before- only to get to the grand-hall to show you where the ceremony would be held. It was as large and foreboding as all of the other rooms on the giant estate, but the onyx floors had a certain shine to them as though there were flecks of quartz sprinkled throughout. You didn’t want to admit it at the time, but it was a rather extravagant place to get married. 

You’d nonchalantly asked if the Baron lived in the left wing seeing as the architecture was seemingly more grandiose. He couldn’t have known that you would try to make your way in this direction on your own because he had let it slip: the baron and his office were located very close to the grand-hall. 

“What are you doing over here?” The man’s voice was deeper than Feyd’s, though he was half his size. 

The guard at his side looked to be twice your age, and yet the expression in his eyes made you think that he wouldn’t think twice about ripping your head straight from your shoulders. 

“The Na-Baron asked me to come and get you two.” It felt awkward using Feyd’s title, stuffy even. 

The two blinked a few times in disbelief, looking you up and down as if you were an insignificant worm. It was almost like you could hear their thoughts. You were nothing but a pitiful Atreides, so what were you doing taking orders from someone as important as your soon-to-be husband? They doubted that he would ever confide in you for anything other than warming his bed. 

“He told me that the two men standing in front of the Baron’s office were needed in the training room.” The sooner they were gone the better. 

Their eyebrows furrowed in confusion, slowly looking behind them at the large door they were currently standing in front of. How would you know that this was his uncle’s office unless you were explicitly told? 

“Did he mention why we are needed?” There was still a hint of distrust in the older man’s voice, but it was far overshadowed by fear. 

Feyd was unpredictable. Unpredictability and psychosis made for a dangerous combination. 

“Another guard confided in him yesterday. Said that the two of you said something disrespectful recently and that he wanted to personally have a word with the both of you. I don’t know anything more than that.” You wanted them so frightened that they would completely abandon all reason. They needed to be gone long enough to give you time to properly search the place. 

You watched as their pale faces went a sick shade of pale purple. The two looked like the gossiping type, and if their expressions were anything to go off of then you must be right. They were quick to bow their heads in your direction before jogging off, muttering curses under their breath. 

A second. Two seconds. Three. . . 

You opened the door as slowly as you possibly could, praying that it wouldn’t make a noise. You waited to see if you could hear any movement, wondering whether or not the inside was being watched as well. Thankfully you heard nothing. The room wasn’t as massive as you had been expecting. It was just about as large as the first bedroom you had been placed in was, but somehow it looked even darker. It still had the strangely textured walls and beautiful floors, same as the grand-hall, but there was something unsettling about it. The only light coming in was through the large window that was located in the middle of the room, but the world outside was a slate gray, so even that was dim.  You didn’t have time to look out the large window, no matter how curious you were about your new surroundings. There was something that you had to do. Making a decision on how you should go about this whole predicament was paramount, and you refused to do it after the wedding. 

There was still time to try and contact your parents back home if you had suspicions of a possible murder plot. 

The Baron’s desk was neat, not a speck of dust marring it’s matte black surface. You weren’t looking for anything in particular. . . just something that would put your mind at ease. Confirmation was needed, one way or another. Either Feyd’s uncle was innocent or guilty. Of what? You weren’t quite sure yet. 

You riffled through the papers that sat on the middle of the table, careful to stack them up exactly where they once were. The information in them seemed useless to you. Financial documents- most of them discussing the retrieval of spice. Never once had you stepped foot on Arrakis, so you found them slightly boring at worst and mildly interesting at best. It was then that you started tugging at the very few drawers, knowing that you would be found at any second. There were no sounds emitting from the hallway, but that didn’t mean anything. Most of the people on this planet were freaks of nature it would seem. You suddenly began to doubt that there would be any evidence here of all places. 

Asking the guard that attempted to kill you and his accomplices questions would have been the best route, but your fiance had acted rashly before you even had the chance to catch your breath. The time to give up on your investigation was near. Seconds had turned into minutes. Your heart was pounding up in your throat, making it hard to breathe as you opened the last drawer. 

It turned out that it wasn’t a drawer at all but a small cabinet. You had to crouch down and squint your eyes in the dark to see inside. The contents would have been useless to you in most cases, but something caught your eye. . . and terrified you in ways that you couldn’t quite put into words. 

It was a cabinet filled with marked- 

“Did you see his face? It looked like he was surprised to see us.” The male’s voice had you standing up so fast that a muscle in your neck twitched, resulting in a dull pain shooting up the base of your head. 

You were about to be caught. Any second now they would be back at the door, and where would you hide in the hallway? The billowy skirt that the ladies in waiting had brought to Feyd’s room this morning nearly sabotaged you as you tripped by the door. They were just around the corner, only a few steps away from his office now. 

What would happen if you were caught? Would the wedding be called off? Would you be punished severely? 

You closed the door as quietly as you could behind you, running in the opposite direction that the two begrudged guards were coming from. You only skidded to a stop when you saw that this hallway was also heavily guarded, their backs turned to you. 

This was the worst case scenario. You were running in the opposite direction where you had come, which meant that you had absolutely no clue where you were going. There was no way that you would get out of this without some sort of formal permission, and two guards were already suspicious of you. Oh, and you couldn’t use the Voice if things started going south. 

If you could sink right into the floor, right in this moment, you would. 

The cabinet in the baron’s office was filled with keycards, each labeled with numbers that must correspond to each room. Only two were missing- two keycards that belonged to a room that had been organized on the wall of the right side of the cabinet. Left wing and right wing. The guest rooms were located in the right. 

There was no way that was a coincidence. . . not when you were staying in the right wing the night that you were injured. You had been given a keycard at the very beginning of your stay. Not even your ladies-in-waiting had a way to get into your room by themselves. They had to knock on the door and wait for you to unlock it from the inside for them. 

So if you had one keycard. . . then who had the other? Had someone broken into the Baron’s room just the same as you had, perhaps?  

A sudden grip on your wrist had your mouth falling open, your lungs seizing as you sucked in a breath, your body's natural reaction being to scream. A hand was quick to press to your mouth, muffling whatever sound you could make. The hand belonged to someone tall, their body hard against your back as they ushered you into a small space. They pressed a button on the wall, and all you could do was watch in horror as the door slid closed behind the two of you. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” 

It was pitch black in whatever tight space he had dragged you into. A closet, you surmised. Still, you could hear that his teeth were clenched as he spoke to you, voice deep and low as he whispered. 

Feyd. You hated the fact that you were so relieved that it was him. His presence here meant that you were safe. All you had to do was come up with some sort of lie as to why you were here. Walking alongside him wouldn’t dredge up any suspicions. No one would be the wiser if they saw the Na-Baron giving his soon-to-be bride a tour around the grounds. 

His chest was pressed tight against yours, and suddenly you found it hard to take in a single breath. It felt as though he might press himself straight into your ribcage. . . and maybe you really were going crazy, but you wouldn’t mind it if he did break you. The smoky, spiced scent of him was clouding your judgment. 

You were no longer yourself. 

“It’s none of your business.” You whispered back, trying to make your tone just as ferocious as his was. It lacked bite though, and he seemed to catch the way that your voice faltered ever so slightly. 

“Getting yourself killed the second that I look the other way. . .” He scoffed, and you wished so badly that you could make out his features in the dark. His body moved ever so slightly, as though he was leaning his head back in exasperation. “Do I need to bind your hands and ankles every time I leave the room? Are you that incapable of being without me even for a second?” 

“I got lost.” You hissed, the lie sweet on your honeyed tongue. You were getting better at being despicable. 

“Well, that’s too bad,” His voice softened, almost as though he was speaking to a child. “Getting lost in these halls isn’t hard to do.” 

His grip on your wrists tightened to the point of pain, and for a second fear flashed behind your eyes. You hadn’t feared Feyd since you first arrived on Geidi Prime, and it was as though you were being brutally reminded of just who warmed your bed at night. He could kill you with his bare hands if he wanted to. Those strong fingers were currently immobilizing you now, leaving bruises on your wrist where he held you so ruthlessly. 

“You’re a clever little mouse. What are you doing outside of my uncle’s door, hmm?” His hand freed one of your wrists, instead opting to grip your jaw so that he could move your head up. 

Could. . . could he see you? The breath loosed from your lungs and all you could do was squint your eyes, begging them to adjust to the darkness. He was in his element here, lost to you in the shadows. 

“If the guards caught you then they could deem you to be a spy. You would have been beheaded before I had time to get to you, and I’m sure that they wouldn’t have notified me before the killing took place. They know. . . how I am with you.” He chose his last words very carefully, faltering before he sounded the words out. 

“And how are you? With me, I mean.” You regretted the words as soon as they passed your lips, and yet you were curious. Were you nothing more than a pet to him? A plaything for him to take off of the shelf whenever it suited his mood? Perhaps he saw you as nothing more than a conquest.

Your hand shook as you began digging into your side, searching your belt for the handle of the blade that you had been carrying during your explorations of this labyrinthian prison. Slowly you pulled it out, pressing it against his side. 

You felt his muscles jump under his shirt as he realized you were now brandishing a weapon. His grip was still vicelike around one of your wrists, but he moved again, slowly looking down at his side to see exactly what it was that you were now threatening him with. 

“I could snap your neck right now.” 

“But you won’t.” That was the only thing that you were sure of. It was the only truth that you were clinging onto: Feyd Rautha would not harm you. 

He moved your head to the side, the blade pressing hard into his side as he leaned forward, squeezing the breath straight from your lungs as his hard chest pressed pressed pressed into yours. Your breasts felt as though they might burst and your heart right along with it. He placed a kiss on the side of your neck, causing you to jerk in surprise. 

The knife dug into his side and you paled in horror as you realized what you had done. He groaned, the noise echoing in your ear due to your very forced proximity. You needed space. You needed to breathe. 

“No. I wouldn’t,” His breath was hot against your cheek as he slid his nose along the expanse of your neck. “Not ever.” 

It felt as though something was being pulled taught in your heart. At any second it threatened to tear free. He had galvanized a strange sort of reaction from you- one that you were wholly unfamiliar with. This was all too new and all too much. 

“Let go of me.” Your voice shook pathetically, and while it was a command. . . truly, you were begging him. 

“You’ve finally learned to tolerate me. Or is this developing into something that you weren’t prepared for?” There was something in his voice. . . something that you were entirely confident that he was incapable of displaying: feeling. “Is that why you haven’t been able to look at me since yesterday?” 

“I-I’m angry at you. Why do you think that I would be able to even stomach looking at you after that?” 

He pulled away from your neck, the blade of the knife dislodging itself by a few centimeters with the added distance. He groaned again under his breath, his hand moving your face yet again so that he could get a good look at you. Your jaw ached as his fingers dug in ever so slightly. 

“No, this isn’t the face of anger.” He sounded sure of that. 

And it scared you that he was right. Your eyebrows furrowed as you tried desperately to see him in the darkness. Still, all you saw was black. 

“Then what is it? If you know so much then tell me.” 

“I don’t know. . .” And for a second you thought that you might have won this round somehow. “No one has ever looked at me the way that you do.” 

Your lips parted in shock as you stared up into the darkness. Did he always have to pull the rug right out from under you? Just when you were finally starting to get your bearings, he made you feel so unstable. If both of your hands were free then you would have tangled them in your hair. The arm that gripped your weapon slackened, the blade clattering to the floor beside you. 

“Then I feel sorry for you.” Your eyes pricked with tears, so you closed the useless things. Still, after all of this, you refused to let him see you cry. 

“I know.” He whispered, his voice so gentle that you could weep. 

“And I fear you.” 

“I know.” His forehead pressed against yours. 

“I don’t want this.” 

“I know.” He nuzzled against you, his grip on your wrists finally loosening. He must have known that you wouldn’t try to get away from him. 

The fucked up thing was that it felt as though your feet had grown roots, tying you to the spot. All it would take was one good shove and you would be free of him and the closet. And yet. . . 

And yet. . . 

“I could have sworn I saw someone over here.” The voice outside in the hallway made you jump, your eyes shooting open. 

You hadn’t been as careful as you thought you had been. Feyd’s earlier statement was coming back to haunt you. They would have you killed, uncaring as to whether or not you even made it into the bastard’s room. Whatever purpose you had for being in this area would be nefarious in everyone else’s mind. What were you even doing here in the first place? Your suspicions were unfounded, and more likely than not you would have found absolutely nothing to substantiate them. Would your parents be able to retrieve your body? Or would they just burn you without even sending a letter back home? 

Feyd’s hand slid up the base of your neck, gripping at your hair. Did he not understand how much danger you were in? Maybe he didn’t care afterall. His knee slid between your legs, forcing them open. 

“What are you doing?” You gripped at the back of his shirt, trying to pull him away from you, hoping that there was some place in this cramped space that you could hide. The voices were getting even closer now, searching for where they thought that you might be hiding. It was only a matter of time before they found you. 

“Saving your life.” He captured your lips in a bruising kiss, his hand sliding out of your hair so that he could begin undoing the front of your blouse. You could hear the sheer fabric of your tunic ripping beneath his hands in his desperate attempt to get to you. 

All you could do was grip onto him for dear life, unable to free yourself to even utter a cry. You were unsure as to how doing this would save you, but you were losing the ability to care much at all. If these were going to be your final moments then so be it. 

So you gave in to the desire. You gave into the wanting and the needing. You fed the ache that had been plaguing you. 

Your lips moved against his, parting so that you could fully taste him. His hands felt firm on your chest as he finally was able to tear you free of the cloth. The air was cold on your hot chest, and yet his hands were scalding against your skin. You tried to remind yourself that none of this was right, but it wasn’t working. His tongue lapped at the roof of your mouth and your own brushed up to meet his. 

More. More. You needed more of him. 

Your hands shook as they began pushing up at the fabric of his training gear. The breathable fabric stretched as you pressed your hand against his chest, finally allowing yourself to feel the hard planes of his muscles. You felt his stomach tighten as your fingers glided along his skin. You were unsure as to what you were searching for, but your body was acting on pure instinct. Your fingers reached up and up until they finally slid free of the fabric at his collar bones only to wrap around his throat.

He groaned into your mouth, his thumb brushing against your nipple. It hardened in response to the sudden attention it was getting. His knee pressed further against your thighs, spreading your legs out further for him until he was finally at the apex of your thighs. His hand flew from your breast to your hips, moving them for you against him. The friction caused your head to roll back against the wall behind you, disrupting the kiss as pleasure rocked through you. Never in your life had you ever felt anything quite like this. 

He continued to rock you back against his thigh, and while you couldn’t see him, you could feel his eyes on your face. He was watching you intently, hell bent on doing whatever it was that he wanted to do to your body. You were unsure of his goal and yet you didn’t care. Something was building inside of you- a sound, a cry, a sob. . . you weren’t certain. It just felt so good. Too good. 

He must have seen your lips part and was quick to press a kiss against them in an attempt to muffle the sound. Your knees felt weak beneath you, and if it wasn’t for his dutiful hands that gripped at your thighs then you were sure that you would have fallen ages ago. 

You remembered how he had felt against you the other night and you wondered if that was a reaction that you had somehow unknowingly caused. You wanted to feel him again. You wanted to know whether or not he was enjoying himself, so you freed his neck and instead pressed your hand against the front of his pants. What had gotten into you? What were you even doing? 

But he was hard against your hand and that was enough for you to begin rocking your hips against his knee without his prompting hands. 

The feeling of your tiny palm cupping him through his pants was more than enough. His hips jerked forward, his eyes flying open at the realization that the object of his lifelong obsessions was willingly touching him like this. He was going to fuck you in this closet if the two of you weren’t found. Feyd didn’t want it to happen like this. . . but he was losing what little control he had left. 

He loved you he loved you he loved you he loved you he loved you he loved you. 

“I-” 

The door flew open the second he opened his mouth, the bright light momentarily blinding him. His body moved on its own, Feyd’s hands moving from your hips up to your shoulders so that he could turn you, using his body to shield you from view. His chest moved up and down rapidly as he gulped down breaths, trying hard to calm himself and his pounding heart. 

There was an unfamiliar man holding the door to the closet, eyes wide as he took in the site of the two of you. It took him a few seconds to really register what was going on in the small broom closet, and then another to fully grasp the fact that he had made a grave mistake. 

“I-I-I had no clue it was you, sir.” The uniformed man stepped back, trying to show the Na-Baron respect. 

You watched in real time as something pure and terrifying bled its way into Feyd’s expression. It had chills running up your spine. 

“Turn your gaze away from her.” His voice was so low that you could barely understand what he was saying. “Now.”The other male quickly got the hint, turning his entire body to face the other direction. His back was ram-rod straight and you watched with a slack jaw as his knees began to quiver. 

You wouldn’t want to turn your back on a rabid beast either. 

“Just get me out of here. Please.” You spoke as quietly as you could, covering the scraps of material that used to be your blouse tight to your exposed chest. 

Killing the random guard in plain sight would attract a small crowd. You watched as Feyd weighed his options, and you bet that the two blades that were still strapped to his back were calling out to him. 

Silently Feyd pulled you out of the closet, holding you so tightly to his chest that your arm became uncomfortably pinned against you. 

The two of you walked through the halls silently, his eyes burning holes into the faces of anyone that even glanced in your direction. The embarrassment of being so exposed in front of everyone had you crawling out of your own skin. No one had seen you naked before- aside from the women that had been tasked to take care of you over the years. All you could do to try and keep yourself from crying was stare down at the floor, watching the pale man’s black boots make their way soundlessly through the halls. Everything he did was so graceful it seemed. 

The blood drained from your face as you were suddenly reminded of the fact that he had seen your chest completely exposed. He’d felt you, kissed you, and pleasured you nearly to the point of your undoing. 

And you had let him. You put up no resistance at all. 

Even worse, you wanted him to do all of those things to you. If you hadn’t been caught then how far would you have let things continue? In that moment you realized that you would have let him take you. You knew yourself well enough to know that you would have let him take your virginity in a broom closet. 

“No one is looking at you,” He seemed to sense your sudden mortification somehow. “I promise. I’d kill them otherwise.” And you knew he was telling the truth. He was probably taking an internal tally of anyone that started for too long, only so that he could circle back for them later. 

All you could do was nod your head and follow him down the hall, stopping only when he reached into his pocket and grabbed his own keycard, letting the two of you back into your room. 

You kept your chest covered with your hands as the two of you broke away. You knew that it was pointless, but the moment was gone and your panic had returned tenfold. 

“Now tell me,” He turned to face you and you watched as his lips turned down at the corners in slight disappointment when he noticed your sudden modesty. “What were you doing over there? Be honest.” 

You couldn’t be honest and it pained you to know that. Feyd was still a Harkonnen. He was loyal to them, not an Atreides. 

“Why did you kiss me?” You were answering a question with another question, but you needed to know. Urgently. 

He licked his lips, as though he was being reminded of the moment. “No one would ask questions.” 

Anger struck you hard in the gut. He had used the moment as a distraction? You felt like an idiot, already regretting the fact that you had allowed him to use your body like that. 

“I didn’t mean to take it that far. It’s becoming harder and harder to control myself.” He must have noticed the hurt in your eyes. “I want you. Not because we are getting married. . . but because I want you.” He was being uncharacteristically emotional today. 

You weren’t sure what that statement truly meant, but it seemed heavy- heavy enough that you felt the need to be more forthcoming with him. 

“I was trying to make my way into the Baron’s office.” A half truth, then. It was easier than telling him everything. “But it was locked.” 

Feyd’s eyes never left your face. They were much softer than they had been in the hallway, almost as though all of the hatred had melted away completely. He looked at you like he cared for you. . . and that was scary. 

“I don’t know why it hurts so much. . . but it does.” His voice was flat, almost as though he was distracted while he continued to watch you. “I know you’re lying to me. My uncle’s office is only ever locked after dinner, which is for safety reasons.” 

You had to bite your bottom lip to keep it from quivering. 

“Only my uncle has clearance to get into that room. The guards in the left wing only ever act on mine or the Baron’s orders. They’re all loyal to a fault. . . so tell me. Did you get into his office?” 

You completely ignored his line of questioning, distracted by something he had said. 

“So none of them would allow someone other than the Baron himself to enter that room?” Your voice shook with fear, your eyes widening as all the pieces started coming together. 

“No,” He looked confused as your lips parted in a silent scream. “What? What is that face for?” 

You felt more alone than you ever had in your entire life. He was out to kill you. . . There would be no escaping this place alive. Your parents had been set up and had given you away to murderers- 

“The guard that tried to kill me. . .” You couldn’t keep your voice from shaking. “What wing did he belong to?” 

Feyd’s muscles went rigid beneath his shirt, as though he was just now coming to some conclusions of his own. “The left.” 

The breath was knocked from your lungs as the full weight of everything crashed into you. 

You were stuck on an alien planet with no way home, Feyd Rautha was going to become your husband in just two days, you wanted Feyd so badly it hurt you. . . 

And his uncle was plotting to kill you. 

I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.

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[bumblesimagines]

The Sky's Empty

Request: Yes or No

Pronouns: She/Her/Hers, F!Reader

Summary: Nobody understands Queen Helaena, absolutely nobody. She's always been the odd little girl who whispers senseless things. Nobody understands her. Nobody heeds her warnings. Nobody comforts her.... except for her loyal lady in waiting.

CW/TW: Spoilers for S2, death of a child, a mother in grief, Criston Cole, could be read as platonic or romantic written with a secret romance in mind tho

Heyyyy I promise I'll do a fluffy Helaena thing soon! This is for my beautiful girl kissers who love angst.

~~~

Another prince was dead. 

(Y/N) could hardly comprehend it, could hardly believe the news she'd woken up to earlier than usual when the castle had abruptly come to life in swift panic before the sun had even begun to rise. Her maids had flocked to her bedchambers as quickly as their nimble feet could take them and woken her up with pale faces and wide eyes. 

"They killed the prince," One told her, spinning around to retrieve the clothes (Y/N) would be wearing for the day while the woman in question stared groggily after her, left to sleepily turn to the other maid and furrow her brows in question. The other one sniffled, hardly containing the tears before they spilled from her eyes. "The Queen's son, My Lady! Prince Jaehaerys!"

At her words, (Y/N) had gone rigid with shock, mouth falling open and a wave of dread crashing into her like a cold wave eager to drown her in its depths. Her hands flew to her mouth, her eyes widening until they were no doubt almost bulging from her head. Helaena... Helaena. She'd thrown the covers from her body and flew out of bed, her maids quickly springing into action to dress her and pull her hair back into a regal style befitting of a lady. 

Access to the floor where the royal family slept had been restricted until the guards managed to capture one of the men involved but Dowager Queen Alicent and Otto had granted her permission to pass. 

So, there she went, the front of her dress lifted slightly so she could speed through the halls and staircases in the direction of Helaena's bedchambers. Servants and guards stepped swiftly out of her way and dipped their heads in respect as she flew past them until she reached the doorway leading into the twin's bedchambers and stepped inside.

"Oh, Gods," She exhaled shakily and pressed a hand to her chest at the sight of the bloodstained sheets. Decapitated, she'd heard. Decapitated in front of his mother. Little troublemaking Jaehaerys who loved laughing and playing and getting up to no good with his father. (Y/N) inhaled deeply and squeezed her eyes shut, forcing her body to calm itself and her heart to slow back down to a regular pace.

She swallowed and opened her eyes again, scanning the room until they landed on Helaena. "Oh, my dear Helaena." (Y/N) whispered, placing her fingers over her lips, refusing to let the tears fall yet. Helaena needed her. She needed her. (Y/N) swallowed down the bile threatening to rise and looked back toward the servants stripping the bed and mattress. 

"I need you to move quicker." She told them icily and their movements quickened, hands fumbling and eyes frantically glancing in her direction. She watched them through narrowed eyes until they stumbled out of the bedroom and disappeared down the hall, forcing her attention to the guard standing by the door. Cole. Her shoulders squared and she strode toward him. 

"My Lady," Ser Criston greeted forcibly, his eyes dancing between the partly taken apart bed and her face. 

"Get out." 

"I-"

"Get out." (Y/N) hissed, her hand flying out to grasp the collar of his chest plate and tug him closer to her. His eyes flashed with surprise and a hint of fear, his body going rigid beneath his armor. She leaned in to angrily whisper without Helaena hearing, "Do not pretend to be doing your job when you're simply here to rid yourself of guilt, Cole. A child died because of your failure. If it were up to me, you'd be stripped of your position and cloak, now, go. Nobody wishes to lay eyes on your face today, Ser." 

Releasing him with a forceful shove, (Y/N) watched him stagger back and out of the doorway before she grasped the door and closed it in his face. She summoned all her anger and annoyance and forced it out in a long exhale, her fingers reaching down to grasp the skirt of her dress and raise it as she turned back around and approached the sorrowful mother. 

"My darling," She cooed softly. Helaena barely looked like herself anymore. Her hair remained messy and unattended, her eyes red and marked with lack of sleep, her lips cracked and bitten from anxious nibbling. (Y/N)'s heart twisted at the sight of it. 

"My boy... they wanted the boy... it was always going to be the boy... my boy," Helaena whispered, her eyes shining with unshed tears and cheeks stained with the ones she'd already shed. She sobbed and gasped, nearly collapsing over the table containing the children's toys. (Y/N) quickly stepped toward her and wrapped a delicate arm around her, the other one nudging Helaena's face into the crook of her neck. "They took him... they took him, they took my boy, my only boy."

"I know, sweetheart, I know. I'm here now, Helaena. I'm here. I will not leave your side, sweet darling, I will not. I promise." (Y/N) reassured, feeling Helaena's full weight lean into her as the mother slumped in her arms and sobbed into her shoulder. (Y/N) carefully lowered herself onto the floor, taking Helaena with her and cradling the weeping girl. She carefully began rocking side to side, whispering comforts and reassuring sentiments. 

Helaena sniffled. "They... they wish to show his body to everyone..." She hiccuped and buried her face further in (Y/N)'s shoulder, staining the fabric of her dress with tears. Her arms wrapped loosely around her, seeking out every bit of comfort she could find through her crying. (Y/N) squeezed her eyes shut again, running her fingertips along Helaena's hair and scalp. Heartless fools the lot of them; too caught up in a war they began to care for anything else. 

"I'm so sorry, Helaena. I'm sorry, my darling." (Y/N) continued to stroke her hair until her weeping subsided for the moment, leaving Helaena to nuzzle her cheek into (Y/N) shoulder and sigh shakily, occasional sniffles leaving her. (Y/N) stared at the bedframe of Jaehaerys bed, all too fond memories of helping Helaena get the twins down for the night flickering through her mind. Poor, sweet boy. A child brutally killed and for what? Revenge? Coin? 

The door creaked open and a maid peeked in, her lips parting to speak but the scathing glare (Y/N) sent her way had her shutting the door again. (Y/N) slid her hand down to Helaena's hair to gently take her shoulders, carefully pushing her back slightly and cupping her wet cheek. "Come, my dear. We must get you dressed. I will attend to you, alright?" 

Managing to coax Helaena onto her feet, she led the girl to her bedchamber and dismissed the maids. She helped Helaena dress in a gown fitting for a funeral and combed her hair, ensuring to give her encouragement and words of comfort throughout while her experienced fingers braided strands back into a bun. Helaena stared blankly at her lap so (Y/N) carefully took her hands and brought her attention up to her face. 

"Helaena," She began, "You are no longer a princess bound to do whatever your mother and grandsire wish of you. You are the Queen of Westeros. You must speak with your husband. Aegon may be... volatile and unpredictable but I highly doubt this is how he wishes your boy to be remembered. You must tell him. His word is final. Not your mother's or Otto's or anyone on the council. His. You are his wife. Speak to him. Do not allow them to parade Prince Jaehaerys to be gawked by those who never knew nor cared for him."

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Stolen Goods 3

Warnings: noncon and other dark elements. As usual, be mindful of your content consumption.

Ft. Lloyd Hansen, petite!pregnant reader

I also beg of you to leave me some tuppence in the form of a comment and/or reblog. You are cherished!

Enjoy, my loverlies.

You hit the back of the trunk with your fist, the tires put to the limit as the man drives without caution. He's honked several times and screeched to many jarring halts. You're trapped in more than just that compartment, bouncing around with the groceries, you're enshrined in a fervour of fear and despair. 

Why is this happening to you? Who is this man? What is he going to do to you? 

Well, what has he already done? 

“Please, sir, I won't tell anyone,” you beg through the back seat, "please. Just take me back--" 

"Do you like classic rock? Jazz?" He asks as the car swerves and he switches lanes. Holy shoot, is he on the highway?  

"What? Please, I promise--" 

"You're distracting me, sweet stuff, you're gonna get us both pancaked by a sixteen-wheeler," he clucks, "just calm down and enjoy the music." 

He flips on the stereo and the local pop station plays. He hums along for a moment, "Ariana, nice." He turns up the familiar top ten and you whimper. 

This is surreal. You really can't believe it. It all happened so quickly. The way he touched you, the way you just stood there and let it happen, then how he just locked you in here! Who does that? Who lets someone do that? Who doesn't raise her voice and tell him to stop? Or ignore him and get in the car and drive away? 

You. You're stupid. You should have been patient and waited for Jake. You should have done so much differently.  

Your tears spring as easily as ever. Your hormones have you always ready to overflow and now seems as suiting as that cat food commercial. You crumble completely, giving up on begging, and bawl. You're going to die, your baby too. 

Maybe that's your fault too. You were so scared when you saw the positive. When you realised the condom broke. There was that split second you wished it wasn't true. When you hoped that it might undo itself. Then you wanted it. You still do. Your baby. Things aren't perfect but you can make them better. 

You jostle with the paper bags, wallowing in your resignation and dread. Time throttles you until it feels like the whole world is on your chest. You hug your belly and apologise to your child. You're supposed to take care of them. 

When the car stops, the sudden dearth of sound slaps you in the face. You sniffle and listen with breath bated. The driver's side opens and dips. He stands and his footfalls stride undaunted towards the trunk. 

You brace yourself. You can't give up yet. The lock clicks and the lid lifts. You push it up before he can open it all the way but he has his hand on your neck before you can leap out. 

"Oh, baby cakes," he squeezes and you cough, "you don't think I'm that stupid, do you?" 

The dimming sky shrouds his figure and he puts cold metal to your cheek, "you don't wanna get yourself hurt. Or the kid, huh?" He presses the metal barrel firmly to your temple, "I don't wanna hurt you either but you gotta give a little." 

"S-sorry," you choke out and latch onto his thick wrist, teetering on your knees as the rest against the edge of the trunk, "I---I--" 

"I know, baby. You're scared. Change is terrifying but I heard you talking to the deadbeat," he pulls the gun away and holsters it. He eases you forward and helps you put your feet to the ground. He keeps a strong hold on you, "you can do better." He smirks, "hi, I'm better, but you can call me Lloyd." 

You gape at him. Is that a joke? 

“And you are...” he enunciates your name. “Sorry about your purse, I tossed it some ditch, but I got the important shit out of it.” 

“Huh?” You blink at him dumbly. 

“Phone’s wiped too. So, I’ll probably just break that down for parts--” 

“Wait, what? Why—please, why are you doing this?” 

“I’m not too sure myself, shortcake, but we’ll figure it out.”  

He slips his hand down to your wrist and pulls you away from the car. He shuts the trunk and the noise echoes off the high ceiling. You look up at the interior of the garage. Several cars are parked in the space. What kind of place is this? 

“Come on, you don’t wanna hang out in here,” he snorts and tugs you to follow him. 

All you can do is let him guide you. You keep your free hand on your stomach as your eyes burn. You can’t give up. You have to keep going for your baby. 

He takes you up a short set of steps and into a house just as colossal as the garage. He looks down at your feet as you stand on the mat. He tuts. Your slides were lost somewhere in your struggle. Your feet are cold and dirty. 

“Hm, well... what now?” He asks. 

“What now?” You squeak. “What do you--” 

“Look, honey buns, I’m not asking you,” he turns and keeps his hand around your wrist, walking you forward as if you’re on a leash. 

You’re confused. What does he mean? He doesn’t even know what he’s doing. What kind of man just does this spontaneously? 

“Erm, Lloyd,” you say softly, “it’s... not too late to take me back.” 

“Ah, but you’re wrong, sweet stuff. It’s way too late,” he snickers. “I scrubbed the traffic cams and the surveillance at the grocery store. It’s all gone. You’re gone.” He stops you in a bright foyer and faces you, “I don’t give my toys back.” 

[undiscovered-horizon]

Who am I to complain? - Nikolai Lantsov x Reader

[emotional and verbal abuse, unhealthy parent-child relationships]

SUMMARY: When your parents come to visit, Nikolai finally understands why you've never been keen to talk about them. Being the King and your husband, he isn't afraid to defy them.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 4.5k

>>Grishaverse-inspired playlist<<

"Have you listened to anything I've just said?"

Nikolai shakes you awake from being lost in thought. You look away from the insanely interesting skirting board you had been staring at for the past ten minutes. He’s watching you with raised eyebrows, awaiting an answer.

"I…” you hang your voice. At first, you wanted to just apologize and ask him to repeat himself but then a sense of dread sprouts in your abdomen - one you can’t quite put a finger on but it takes over your entire mind. “I'm sorry, Kolya. Please, don’t be mad at me, I’m sorry,” you plead, gradually speaking faster.

“I’m not angry,” he states firmly. “But I am growing concerned for you, love. What’s going on?”

“I just keep thinking about my parents' visit,” you confess while rubbing your forehead. “Ever since the letter arrived, I can hardly think about anything else."

"Yes, I've noticed you have been a bit absent for the past few days. I assumed you were going to talk to me when you're ready. Are you?"

"They're not bad people," you begin in a strange tone that makes Nikolai doubt your words right away, "and they've only done their best to give me a good life. Despite that, they have a tendency to bring out the parts of me I've grown to dislike." 

“Isn’t that what every family does?” he jokes in hopes of easing your visible discomfort. But his good humour is gone the moment you look away with a sombre expression stuck to your features.

Nikolai always considered himself exceptional at self-control but something about your sadness makes him gradually abandon reason. As you forlornly stare into the darkness of your shared bedroom, he’s ready to stick feathers to his clothes and pretend to be a peacock just to make you laugh.

“Love,” he calls out softly. His hand rests between your shoulder blades. “You’re the queen. If you want, we can call their visit off right away.”

“That would be a little rude, no?” you ask in a meek voice.

“It’s a lot more crude to make you cry.”

“I will be alright, really,” you reassure him. That miserable look on your face is slowly creeping away. “It’s just three days. Maybe they’ve changed or they’re a lot better than I remember. I’ll be okay.”

Nikolai is unsure whether you’re trying to convince yourself or him but he doesn’t push. Despite not believing your clumsy words of reassurance, he trusts you - he’ll step in only when things really get out of hand.

Nervousness and excitement often feel the same and one might even fool themselves into believing that the mortifying tension in their muscles is actually an impatient thrill. Today, however, you don’t even try playing a little trick on yourself. The more you think about your feelings, the more you’re convinced that it’s not even nervousness but fear. Still, you don’t quite understand why exactly your parents’ visit elicits such awful emotions from you.

The door to the throne room opens and a man in a white and gold livery steps inside. He quickly walks halfway to the dais with the throne. 

The servant bows as deep as he can and clears his throat before loudly announcing: “Presenting her most royal Highness’s, the Queen’s, mother and father.”

Only then do your parents emerge from the hall, walking hesitantly through the spacious throne room. Two guards are following them and your father spares them a confused glance every few steps. But the armed men only usher him to keep walking and not turn his back to the king until allowed to do so.

Feeling fear exploding in your chest, you grip Nikolai’s shoulder even tighter. Sitting on the throne, he has to look up to meet your eyes.

“Calm down, it’s going to be alright,” he says quietly. A reassuring smile curves his lips. “You said it yourself.”

As though he is a Heartrender himself, his words make you relax. You take a deep breath and let go of his shoulder. At that moment, Nikolai stands up to greet your parents as their son-in-law first and only then the king of Ravka.

Right then, your mother quickly runs up the few steps leading to the dais. Her face is red and a deep crease now separates her eyebrows.

“I have to wait to be announced to see my own daughter?” She’s barely containing her outrage. “Nonsense!”

“I’m royalty now, mother,” you explain calmly. Your voice almost doesn’t shake.

“And I’m still your mother, the one that gave birth to you. Do I not get any benefits from that?”

Maybe some people don’t actually change.

“I’m afraid you don’t.”

“Is this gold?!” your father exclaims in shock as his hand reaches for your heavy necklace. “So because of you most of Ravka is starving?”

Too occupied with the jewellery, your parents don’t notice the palace guards stepping forward to arrest them for such an accusation aimed at the queen. Nikolai spares them a meaningful look, waving them off. In his heart, he agrees with them.

“Actually, this is a gift from a businessman in Kerch,” you say quietly. Suddenly, you remember why you’ve never visited them since your wedding.

“Still, don’t you think this is a little distasteful?”

Your mother places her hand on your father’s shoulder. “She’s always been vain, darling,” she reminds him.

You’re not a queen anymore - at least you don’t feel like it. All of the gold, silk and jewels are gone and you’re back to being a scared, little girl with hay stuck in her hair. Tears sting your eyes.

Whatever you do is wrong. All of your efforts are underwhelming. Maybe they’d be happier if you weren’t there.

"You're crying?” your father asks with a hint of disgust in his voice. “Oh, don't be so sensitive, you know we’re only joking!” He’s still holding your necklace in his fingers, admiring the glistening crystals. Standing so close to you, he lowers his voice significantly to appear inconspicuous but Nikolai manages to pick up his calloused words. “Pull yourself together, this is embarrassing.”

As she usually does, your mother brings the attention back to herself. “She can be a bit much at times, so I hope you’re a patient one!”

The guards exchange questioning looks, silently asking one another if they should intervene this time. Most of the time they follow Tolya and Tamar’s steps but they’re left to their own devices on this day as Nikolai ordered the twins to take a day off. Perhaps it’s for the best - they’d surely escalate this already uncomfortable situation but it’s only because they care.

“I’d say it’s quite the opposite,” Nikolai answers, unaffected. Despite his speaking to your mother, he’s looking into your eyes. “I can never get enough of her.”

“For most of her life, I thought she’d never get married!” your mother continues. She’s gripping your arm with much more strength than her appearance suggests. “Men don’t like them independent, stubborn and opinionated.”

Nikolai’s polite smile doesn’t falter. “Three qualities of an excellent Queen.”

Your mother laughs obnoxiously. “Just wait a few years, dear.” She pats his shoulder. The guards look between themselves again. “You’ll be quick to send her off just like we were!”

Both of your parents laugh wholeheartedly while you and Nikolai exchange knowing looks. Now he understands why you have been so uneasy lately. This is going to be the longest three days of his life.

The perplexity continues as your mother suddenly places her hands around your waist, examining your torso in great detail. A sour expression forms on her face.

“Oh, honey, you’ve let yourself go,” she says in a worried tone. Her eyes trail the curve of your physique up until she looks at your face. With a serious glint in her eye, she advises you under her breath: “You can’t get fat and slobby if you want to keep the king.” 

The man who announced your parents appears again but this time he walks all the way to the stairs leading up to the throne, although doesn’t dare climb them. His facial expression borders on emotionless and serious as though he’s more of a marble statue rather than a servant.

“Your most royal Highness.” The man bows deeply. “The room is prepared.”

“Excellent.” Nikolai uses the opportunity to cut the awkward conversation short in a diplomatic way. “Escort our guests to their chamber.” 

“Right away, мой царь.”

When the butler disappears around the corner with your parents apprehensively following him, Nikolai looks at you with a grim expression. 

“Are they usually like this?” he asks, disapproval hiding between his words.

“They’re worse at home,” you answer with a shrug. A lot of terrible feelings and thoughts you were convinced you had left behind are coming back and you’re unsure how to handle that.

“You’ve put up with this kind of disrespect for your whole life?”

“It’s not disrespect, just…” you hang your voice looking for the right expression, “tough love. They don’t mean any harm.”

“Don’t mean any harm?” he repeats in disbelief. “They’ve been here for fifteen minutes and they are yet to say something nice to you. Neither of them even asked whether you’re doing alright.”

A short, troubled sigh leaves your lips. Your fingers trail the golden embroidery decorating his kaftan. “I’m married to a dashing, handsome king and live in a palace. I think they know I’m doing well.”

His hand gently grabs yours, keeping it against his chest. “As much I like flattery, especially coming from you, you can’t pull wool over my eyes, love. It’s not a matter of knowing but principle. Remember our wedding? The guests kept asking how you’re doing so much, you kept saying you’re perfectly fine before they even got a chance to ask.”

The memory elicits a chuckle from you. Yes, everyone seemed to be preoccupied with making sure you were happy and satisfied. It came to such a point, you yelled at Nikolai’s cousin ‘Yes, I’m fine!’ before she gave you a weird look and asked if you wanted some vodka mixed with your champagne. Truly, the only royal thing about Marina is her ungodly fortune but maybe that’s why you’ve grown to like her a lot - she’s down to earth and easy-going.

Nikolai squeezes your hand in a gentle, reassuring manner. “Just say the word and I will personally throw them out.”

“Kolya!” You gasp at his offer but it quickly turns into laughter. “They’re my parents and your in-laws!”

“They also refuse to show care and respect towards my beloved Queen.”

That mellow, loving look in his eyes nullifies any annoyance you might feel at his stubbornness. You pull your hand out of his grasp and place it on the side of his face. Consciously or not, he slightly leans into your touch. “I appreciate your concern.” Not minding the guards in the room, you’ve grown used to their constant presence, you peck his lips shortly. “But they have just arrived. You’ll warm up to them.”

Nikolai doesn’t answer at first. He only reconnects your lips, kissing you deeper, more desperately. When you feel his hands coming up to your waist, you lean away from him. For a moment, you swear you can see a grimace of dissatisfaction on his face.

“Be decent,” you reprimand him but the wide smile you wear so well rids your words of all seriousness.

“You started this.”

“And I will finish if you play nice.”

Nikolai takes a rather long step back, away from you,  just to make a point. He’s standing with his hands behind his back, an excited grin on his face. “You make an exquisite diplomat, you know that?”

“I learned from the best.”

The time for dinner came faster than you wanted it to. Anxiety bubbled inside your chest again. Still, you continued trying to soap up your eyes with thoughts that maybe when they sit across the table from a king, they’re going to withdraw their little jabs at you. As they say: Hope is the mother of all fools. And you’re about to learn that.

Nikolai raises his cup with wine. “A toast to our beloved Queen,” he announces in an official tone. Out of the corner of his eye, he spares you an adoring look. “Without her, I’d be a lonely, perplexed king. May we not know the world without her.”

To your horror, your father decides to join him. “May she get a grip and come to her senses.”

The dry wine tastes even more bitter as you take what’s supposed to be a celebratory sip. What if he’s right about you? It’s only the beginning of the evening and you already wish you can miraculously vanish or, worst case scenario, just run away. 

You’re about to take a bite of the roasted pheasant on your plate when your mother looks at you with raised eyebrows. She points her fork between you and the plate. “Should you really be eating all of this?” 

You don’t answer her. Whatever you say will only egg her on. Get a grip, you scold yourself and clench your fist to push fingernails into the sensitive skin of your palm. The pain is distracting, grounding.

 "You know, sweetheart, you're not getting any younger,” your mother continues. She always does that - throwing poignancies one after another and seeing what sticks. Now, when she’s literally the mother of the queen, she’s even bolder than before.

“Mother-”

“Don’t interrupt me.” She points her knife at you. “All I’m saying is as a wife, especially the queen, you have only one duty and you shouldn’t wait with it. Things will only get more difficult as you age.”

Nikolai gives your mother a bright smile. “Have no worries,” he cuts in. “We’re not waiting.”

You almost drop your fork. Flustering people is definitely one of his strategies but must he really involve your sex life in his word games? Although mortified at his bluntness, you must admit it works - your mother’s face is about the same shade as the roasted tomatoes on her plate. She casts her eyes downwards, poking at the food in front of her.

The air is filled with awkward tension but Nikolai doesn’t seem to mind in. In fact, he looks quite proud of himself. You, on the other hand, aren’t as good at putting up a believable front.

“So,” you begin in hopes of easing the atmosphere”, how are things back in…” You hang your voice. You were about to say ‘home’, only to realize that it would be an honest lie. The little town where you grew up hasn’t been home in years. “...Tamboyevka?”

“Oh, you know,” your mother says as she makes a dismissive wave with her hand. “Same old, same old. Cattle and field, nothing interesting to someone of your sort, I presume! There’s never been much use of you anyway.”

Listening to your mother’s condescending words, you push your fingernails further into the skin of your hand to distract yourself from the feeling of shame that continues to grow inside your stomach and pull you down with it. Maybe the marble floor will swallow you whole in the next few minutes and all of this will be over.

Then you feel Nikolai’s warm hand sneak between your palms, breaking up your painful distraction. He leans towards you ever so slightly and whispers:

“I’d much rather you pinch and scratch my hand than hurt yourself.”

You look at his concerned face. Words of reassurance, ‘Don’t worry, I’m alright’, nearly push past your lips when your father chimes in, continuing the conversation.

“But your brother, he bought some land down south,” he announces with excitement.

“More land?” you ask. “Ha barely manages with what he already has.”

The memory of your brother’s tired, grey face flashes before your eyes. Every time you see him, he looks even sicker than before as though he never sleeps or eats, only works in the field. He even collapsed on one July day and your parents kept saying that this is a sign of an honest, hard-working man but you weren’t as quick to call a man throwing up everything he eats ‘healthy’.

“You know how he is, always helping others.” Your mother is beaming with pride as if she’s the one doing the farming. “His crops feed two villages and it’s not nearly enough for him! Said he wanted tomatoes and citruses.”

Then it hits you. It’s not a revelation in any way but rather something you don’t think about too often - most of Ravka doesn’t get fruits in winter, especially the ones growing in warmer climates near the Shu Han border. And you not only can easily get it even when snow covers the grassy fields but you’re essentially fed it. Like that one time, you shared a tangerine with Nikolai while sitting in front of a fire, talking about unimportant things.

Despite your mother sitting right in front of you, her voice echoed in your head as though she’s a phantom haunting your thoughts and not a real person: Selfish. Spoiled. Entitled. Ungrateful. People starve because of you.

You focus on Nikolai’s warm, rough hand that’s still holding your own. The pleasant sensation is gradually grounding you, pulling you out of your head and into the present moment.

“What for?” you ask as casually as you can, not giving in to the spiralling thoughts. It still feels like you’re underwater, desperately gasping for air as your lungs burn. Squeezing Nikolai’s hand, you break the surface of the vicious tides trying to drown you in panic and shame.

Your mother, on the other hand, appears completely oblivious to your plight. “Some child told him they’d like oranges and he couldn’t say no. He’s wonderful, truly. A living Saint! What a blessing to call him my son. You should take a serious cue from him, young lady.” She waves the tip of her knife in your direction again. “But enough about your brother. What do you do when you’re not wasting time? Lay around and smell nice?”

“Well,” you swallow nervously, already knowing that she won’t be satisfied with your answer, “I meet a lot of people, take correspondence, travel across the country or read if I find the time.”

Nikolai must notice the telling crease of disappointment between your mother’s eyebrows. He joins the conversation under a skilful facade of a proud, boasting husband. “Don’t sell yourself short, love. Our Queen,” he puts strange stress on the title, “has started a scholarship for disadvantaged children, takes the time to teach young girls sewing, foreign languages and arithmetic.”

“That’s quite useless, isn’t it?” your mother looks between you and your father, not acknowledging Nikolai’s presence. She keeps stabbing the roasted pheasant on her plate with a fork as though there’s still life inside the poor poultry. “Shouldn’t you try harder?” she hisses at you. “If you continue being this lazy, the whole kingdom will fall apart! What will our neighbours say then?”

Nikolai suddenly gets up. He’s still holding your hand but you can’t be sure whether he’s doing that on purpose or if it’s just an unconscious reflex. The candlelight from the crystal chandelier cascades off his face, pronouncing the clenched muscles of his jaw - he’s angry and barely holding it in.

“Our meeting at this table is adjourned,” he announces in a firm voice. “This is beyond unacceptable. I have overlooked your transgressions simply because of your affinity to my wife. Still, I am disheartened and disappointed with the way you address your queen in her own home. The guards will escort you back to your chambers.”

You hear your mother and father trying to argue and protest, saying something about you being ‘too proud’ and ‘forgetting your place’ but you’re so dumbfounded you can’t make out the details. The guards lead them out of the dining room through one of the tall pairs of doors. When they close behind them, everything goes silent - the brick walls muffle any turmoil your parents might be causing.

Suddenly, your throat constricts. It’s hard to take a breath. Has it always been so hot in here? The tips of your fingers tingle, blood never reaching them.

He threw them out and you didn’t say anything. If they didn’t hate you before, they surely do now. You’re a disappointment, not their child. They haven’t done anything wrong, after all. You’re no good, useless, ungrateful, dramatic.

Suffocating with panic, you run out of the room through a different pair of doors, across the dining hall from the ones behind which your parents had recently disappeared. You hear Nikolai’s footsteps behind you but they are muffled by the noise of bloodflow ringing in your ears.

“Hey, talk to me,” he calls out in a soft voice. You turn around to look at him. His hand is almost at the height of your shoulder but it momentarily drops as though he just backed out from touching you. “What’s going on?”

For a man as smart as him, that’s a really stupid question.

“Why did you do that, Nikolai?” you snap at him.

His eyebrows furrow slightly. A gasp of disbelief brushes past his lips - he clearly thought the two of you were on the same page. “They were insulting you over and over again. I couldn’t just sit and listen to that.”

Truly, you should have expected that. He’s been adamant about standing up to your parents from the very beginning. Still, you’re angry that he just had to be stubborn and do the one thing you explicitly asked him not to do.

“What happened to laugh at insults? Isn’t that your own advice?”

“It is.” Nikolai finally finds it in himself to place his hands on your shoulders. “But I found myself unable to remain collected when the bitter words were aimed at you.” His palms brush against your dress and the skin of your neck until they’re cradling your face.

“I can,” you state firmly. “You should have let me handle this, I’m used to this.”

You escape his loving grasp and he lets you. Walking forward away from him, you’re not quite sure where exactly you’re heading. ‘Away’ would be a lovely direction but quite impossible when you’re confined to those four walls of marble and gold.

“You shouldn’t be,” Nikolai calls out after you.

Suddenly, you halt. You look at him around your shoulder. “What?”

“You shouldn’t be used to being treated like this,” he says in a defeated tone while walking towards you again. “They just keep putting you down, humiliating you. You’re not even slightly upset about that?”

“Of course, I am but…” you hang your voice, finally questioning your own feelings towards your parents. “It’s unfair for me to be angry with them. Ungrateful. I never went hungry or cold. They gave me medication when I was sick and made sure I went to school. Every year they’d give me something for my birthday. Neither of them has ever raised their hand against me. They’ve done all they could to give me a good life. Who am I to complain?”

“You’re the Queen,” he drones the word. His hand holds the side of your face again, thumb lovingly brushing your cheek. “People say your name in the same breath as the names of all the Saints. When I don’t know what to do or what decision to make, I always ask myself what you would do. And I’ve never once regretted that. There are important people who have agreed to my invitation only after hearing that you’ll be there too. You change everything. So you get to be angry when someone refuses to see that. I know you can take a few mean words but I don’t want you to.”

For a moment, the two of you stand in comfortable, intimate silence. Your absent gaze is stuck to the floor as you’re pondering his words. Whenever you’re about to accept that maybe, just maybe, you’re doing something good and important, the voice of your mother echoes inside your head: ‘Vain’. But Nikolai wouldn’t lie to you, would he? At least not in those circumstances.

“Can you keep a secret?” he speaks up quietly, bringing your attention back to him.

“Don’t tell me you put a wild racoon in my parent’s bedroom,” you joke, surprising yourself at your newly-found humour.

He scrunches his nose. “Alright, can you keep two secrets?” The echo of the empty halls carries your bright laughter. “To be honest, I wanted to marry you the moment you argued with me about stealing that merchant frigate in Kerch.”

“I could tell,” you answer with a slow nod. “You had a really stupid look on your face, all dazed and absent. In fact, you wore the same one on our wedding day.”

Nikolai’s lips turn into a playful smile and he’s about to say something definitely smart and smooth but a servant interrupts him:

“Your most royal highness,” she says nervously as she curtsies, “your mother wishes to see you. She seems thoroughly upset, if I may say so.” Judging by her fearful, wide-open eyes, she must have gotten a taste of your parents' hurt ego.

Anxiety once again floods your mind. Maybe you should go, apologize and pray they won’t go on a tirade about ‘raising you differently’. But then you hear Nikolai inconspicuously but meaningfully clear his throat.

‘You’re the queen’, his voice echoes in your head. A queen doesn’t cower and bow her head, does she?

“Tell her I don’t take visitations tonight,” you order the servant.

“Right away, моя царица.” She can’t hide the waver in her voice. Judging by her already fearful demeanour, she can guess quite well what will happen the moment she relays the information.

Yes, you will have to warn your parents that they actually can’t hurl insults at your servants. It’s going to be challenging, yes, but this newfound confidence is a ferocious beast, driving you to own up to the title of the queen - not in the way your mother and father want you to but in a way that you need to.

“Oh, one more thing.” The girl immediately stops and turns around at the sound of your voice. “Make sure they don’t leave their wing until either of us says so. I don’t want them wandering around my home.”

“Of course, my Queen.”

The servant bows again and leaves the two of you in a rushed step. Nikolai waits until she disappears around the corner to let his hand drop to the small of your back. He leans in close, indecently so. “I love it when you get all commanding,” he whispers against your neck.

An airy laugh leaves your lips as he pecks the soft skin behind your ear.

____

мой царь [mo-ee tzar] -> my tsar/king

моя царица [mo-ya tsa-ree-tsa] -> my tsaritsa/queen

[writing-for-marvel]

Day 31: Breeding Kink

Mob!Bucky's Kinktober Honeymoon

Mob!Bucky Barnes × Wife!Reader

Summary: Bucky gets excited by the thought of becoming a father after your honeymoon.

Warnings: strictly 18+, smut, creampie, daddy kink™️, a teeny tiny bit of angst/self doubt at the start, reader potentially already being pregnant, lots of soft feelings and pure love

Word count: 2.1k

A/N: we are finally at the end of our honeymoon journey 🥹 thank you to everyone who has read any part of this series throughout the past month. I put so much love and effort into this and I sincerely hope you’ve enjoyed it as much as I have ❤️ dividers by me, please do not use. Banners by @vase-of-lilies

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Bucky hands you a glass of your favourite wine, sitting down beside you and placing a protective hand on your thigh.

“To the last night of our honeymoon.” He toasts simply. But he doesn’t need to add anything else - all other praises, different forms of ‘I love you’, and terms of endearment have already been declared to you during the past four weeks.

You didn’t think it was possible, but after the last month, you feel even more loved by Bucky than ever before.

“And to every night of the rest of our lives.” You add before clinking your glass against his. He swirls the liquid around the glass, sniffing the rich scent before taking a substantial sip. Instead, you specifically chose to place your glass down without tasting the wine.

“Who are you and what have you done with my wife?” He chuckles in that way where you can’t help but smile at the sound. “No wine tonight? Do you want something else?”

You shake your head playfully, the news you need to disclose dry on the tip of your tongue, but the sparkling adoration in Bucky’s eyes is what gives you the surge of courage to speak the words aloud.

“I’m late.” You announce and you can see the realisation play out in Bucky’s eyes as to the implication of what you’ve just disclosed. “It’s only a few days, it could be anything really - the stress of the wedding, the travel… but it’s probably best to be cautious considering how many times you’ve cum in me over the last month.”

“You think you’re pregnant?” His voice sounds breathless and his strong jaw hangs open, as if in pure shock.

“It’s a possibility...” You trail off, unsure if his reaction is due to certifiable happiness or complete dread. Fear sinks in your stomach like lead - he’s the king of a mafia empire, danger lurks around every corner, and has a long list of enemies who would want nothing more than to murder his entire family in cold blood for revenge.

How could you be so stupid to believe he’d be enthusiastic about bringing a child into that environment?

“Did you not want to be a dad?” Your voice comes out weak, almost trembling, and you can see the concern rise in Bucky’s eyes in the time it takes you to blink. His hands cup your face, tender and loving, as he rests his forehead against yours and looks at you like you’re the only thing that exists in his entire universe.

“You are the love of my life, and there is nothing I want more than for us to create a life from that love. The thought of having a little one who is half me, half the woman I love most in the world… that joy is indescribable.”

Bucky once told you that he could not bear to be the source of your pain, that for him hurting you was akin to torturing himself. He has that same wounded look in his eye right now, as if the mere thought of you fretting about his reaction makes his heart crumble into a thousand pieces.

You kiss him this time, as if you are struggling to breathe and his lips are the only source of oxygen, a desperation to convey he will always be the life force that sustains your existence.

With his strapping hands grabbing into your hips, Bucky lifts you from the couch and walks you backwards towards your bedroom expertly while his tongue dances with yours.

In a haze of passion and lust, Bucky strips the clothes off your body, lips following the soft touch of his hands as garnets get tossed around the room. As the air caresses your bare skin, he gently pulls you closer, eyes roaming your body with a fierce thirst that somehow outshines his usual desire at seeing you naked for him.

Your head is almost dizzy from his intoxicating kiss by the time you’re bare for him and he’s laying you gently on the bed, his lips trailing patterns over your stomach as he whispers words of devotion against your soft skin. He doesn’t need to speak them any louder, his whole world is encapsulated in the person laid unclothed and dripping before him.

Rubbing his bulbous tip on your clit, Bucky slowly pushes inside you and then pulls out, slapping your clit again, performing the action over and over until the needy ache between your thighs is almost unbearable. Jolts of pleasure fire up your spine and wet arousal streams out of you as you arch your back and cup both of your breasts, fingers flicking over your hardening nipples.

“Daddy, please.” The name slips from your lips before you have the time or mental consciousness to stop it, but Bucky simply smirks in response, satisfied with just how desperate you are for him, and only him.

“Daddy’s going to give you everything darling, just lay back and relax.” He teasingly draws figure eights with the tip of his dick against your clit, capturing your pert nipple in mouth, tongue circling your tender areola, the combination of his stimulation forging a ardent whine from the back of your throat.

Then, without any notice, Bucky pushes himself into you slowly, lovingly.

“Fuck, baby, you feel so tight. You were made for me, just for me.” He growls in your ear when he’s finally fully sheathed within you.

You let your hands drift over the contours of Bucky’s muscular back, drawing him even closer against you as he buries his face in your neck as his hips begin rocking into yours. Having him hold your upper body with such gentleness all the while having his hips rail you into the mattress feels both exquisitely intimate and downright pornographic.

You’re unsure how Bucky manages to be both concurrently, but he always finds a way.

“Sounds like that feels so fucking good for you, baby. Fucking squelching for daddy.” He’s not wrong, the salacious squelch of your walls fills the room along with your lustful moans with every unrelenting, impaling thrust of his cock.

His pelvis rhythmically meets your ass as he lifts your hips, taking you by surprise and pushing your legs back into your body, testing the bounds of your flexibility. From this angle he can’t help but graze your spongy g-spot with each thrust, over and over and over again. You cry out in pleasure, too overwhelmed by the sensations undulating within you, one moment it’s all too much, the next not enough, to realise your fingernails are digging sharply into Bucky’s biceps.

At this point in your relationship Bucky knows your body better than you do, before you have time to recognise that you’re right at the precipice of a fast approaching orgasm, his nimble fingers locate your throbbing clit, massaging the bundle of nerves in that way that makes a wanton sob bubble up in your throat.

“Look at me baby - keep your eyes on daddy when he makes you cum.” Those dazzling steel blue eyes are your downfall, those same sparkling eyes which have always regarded you with an unparalleled desire and reverence, even from the very first time you met. Those beautifully unique eyes you have memorised the patterns of, committed to memory where each fleck of gold resides and how they seem to shine brighter when you’re the object of his gaze. Those same sincere eyes that filled with tears as he watched you say ‘I do’ and feasted on your body in your white wedding gown until he zipped it off you on your wedding night.

Your high hits you with a magnitude that shakes your entire body, eyes rolling back and has your toes curling. The rest of the world crumbles around you, the only thing your brain can comprehend in this life shattering moment is that Bucky is mercilessly pounding into you, pushing you through a climax that feels like a million shooting stars all exploding at once.

Bucky stills as you tremble around him, coming down from your high with sweat on your brow and a dazed look in your eyes that he can’t seem to get enough of.

His kiss is soft and sweet, but completely life ruining all the same. It takes you back to the first kiss you ever shared, how much outpouring of love you felt when his lips touched yours and you knew for certain you wouldn’t kiss anyone but him ever again.

Bucky’s hips start moving again, slowly at first, building a sensual rhythm of deep strokes which has you biting into his shoulder to prevent yourself from moaning obscenities. You can’t tell where he stops and you begin, your bodies moving together in the heat of passion, euphoria covering you both like a blanket of pure, warm sunshine.

“Gonna breed you.” He growls in your ear with that inflection in his tone where you can tell he’s just as close as you are to coming undone. “Gonna give you a baby. Our baby.”

His words satisfy some primal part of your brain that’s in control now, you swing your legs around Bucky’s waist so he stays exactly where you want him when he cums. His arms frame your head and he gazes down at you as if he’s trusting you to hold his fragile heart in the palm of your hand.

“Give it to me. Please daddy, please give me all your cum.” Your fingernails scratch down his back as Bucky’s cock grazes over the spongy spot on the inside of your walls which makes you see stars. “Put a baby in me.”

Your words only spur him on, thrusts growing sloppy, faltering slightly with a guttural groan reverberating from his chest that is the beginning of the end for you, the pebble which breaks the dam, your release flooding through you in crashing, torrential waves.

“Fuck, Bucky, I’m cumming!” You announce and through his panting, Bucky lets out a satisfied hum as you walls clench down around him, triggering his own release right alongside yours. You swear you’ve ascended to heaven, floating on a cloud of pure bliss as the ecstasy of your high radiates like a rising sun within your core.

Bucky stays hovering above you as you both catch your breath, whimsical smiles tickling the sides of your mouths as you simply gaze at each other, the only thought running through your mind being how fucking lucky you are to have someone who loves you like Bucky does, someone who will always put your wants and needs before their own because ensuring your happiness is their happiness.

“Can’t let any go to waste.” Bucky comments as he pulls out of you, fingering his release back inside you so that none spills out, flicking your puffy and sensitive clit as he does so, sending jolts firing up your spine that makes you squirm.

“Well, if you weren’t pregnant before, you’re likely to be now.” Bucky chuckles lightly, his hand brushing lovingly over your stomach as he lays beside you. “And if not, then we’ll just keep trying. We are pretty good at the act of baby making.”

“We certainly are.” You turn your head and capture his swollen lips in a raw, delicate kiss that can convey more meaning than mere words can. “I can’t wait to go back home and spend the rest of our lives together, maybe with some little feet pattering on the hardwood floors too.”

You know Bucky well enough by now to recognise the genuinely content and blissful smile spreading over his features. You crave for him to look at you like this for the remainder of your life, for him to feel so full of adoration for you that he simply cannot be anything other than blissfully happy in your presence. If he loves you even half as much as you love him, you’re positive your love story will be one for the history books.

“Te iubesc [I love you].” He places a kiss to your hairline, and pulls you closer in his embrace where you always feel at home. You’ve never felt as loved and cherished as you do in this moment right here, with your darling husband who you know would go to the ends of the world to ensure you and your possible future child are safe.

“Not as much as I love you.” There’s a sparkle in his ocean coloured eyes as you say these words, a depth of devotion you could drown in.

“That’s impossible.”

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[pomefioredove]

please, PLEASE write a rollo x reader fic where rollo wakes up from a nightmare about his brother and where there to comfort him PLEASE 🙏🙏🙏🙏

let it be known that the only reason I started playing this game was because they added frollo. rollo is like a cryptid in the HoND fandom

summary: nightmares and comfort type of post: fic characters: rollo additional info: romantic, established relationship?, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, not proofread, rollo vaguely implied to have ptsd because I do and am a scholar in trauma nightmares ^-^

There's a certain point at which bad dreams and reality melt together.

Where the line blurs, and you can't be sure where the nightmare ends and you begin. They so often feel one in the same.

Rollo is familiar with bad dreams.

At one point, he thought there would be a solution. Something to hold them back, to release him from their sticky grasp. He journaled, for a while, but all that brought him was grief.

It happens like clockwork.

Four or five nightmares in one rest, for one to two weeks, at the same time every year. He keeps track of them. How could he not?

They culminate on a certain day, one he dreads in and of itself, and then slowly, painfully die off, leaving him wounded and alone.

It's dreadful.

And it's worse that he knows exactly why they happen.

You had once asked him what keeps him up at night, as a sort of conversation starter when you were first getting to know each other. What a strange question to ask someone, and in such a light-hearted tone.

He told you he sees no use for excess sleep when he can be diligent, instead.

Sloth is a vice, he said. Detestable.

You seemed to accept that as an answer, much to his relief. The truth was far too ugly for someone as pure as you to shoulder. He was only protecting your feelings, after all. And perhaps his.

Rollo hoped, for your sake, that you wouldn't notice. He was still getting used to the idea of sleeping beside another person, and the very last thing he wanted was to burden you with all of what he is.

To put it plainly, he didn't want to scare you off.

The first few nights were easy enough. Nasty imagery wrapped up in otherwise normal dreams, those of which could hardly be considered nightmares.

He'd wake up in a cold sweat, and toss and turn until he could manage to fall back asleep, never stirring you.

This time is different.

He wakes, not quite jolting, but certainly thrashing himself back into the present moment like an animal caught in a trap.

His eyes snap open, and there's nothing but darkness, his breathing, and the uneasy feeling of his stomach. It takes a moment for him to adjust to his surroundings.

You're still asleep. Thankfully.

He liked to keep some distance between the two of you, anyway. Rollo had to ease himself into the idea of being physically close with someone without being utterly repulsed.

The only reason he'd entertained the idea in the first place was because it's you, you, pure and good, who would never do anything to discomfort him, you, who even now, sleeps like an angel in his bed.

There's something unclean about that thought, although it's not your doing.

Rollo gets up, careful not to disturb you, and paces around the room while he tries to get ahold of reality. He reminds himself of the date, the time, his full name, anything that will shake the lingering terror coursing through is body.

He does not cry. He hasn't since...

Well. Never mind, that.

Now is not the time to make a fuss. He's not a child, he's not fragile, he can handle his own nightmares without needing someone to tuck him back in.

The dream was so terrifyingly, disgustingly real, though.

The nightmares which aren't nightmares are the worst sorts of dreams, because he instantly feels silly for scaring himself over something so mundane, even if that looming sense of dread and fear still makes him feel ill.

This one was but a normal conversation, with...

...He didn't want to remember it.

The point was more so that it felt so utterly real that waking up like this, having it fall apart around him like the rotting pages of an old book, was like having his head dunked in freezing cold water repeatedly.

Not a pleasant feeling.

He paces, back and forth, in front of the now-dead fireplace, trying to regain his bearings.

He's quiet; he so often is; and yet, still, roused either by the sound of his footsteps or the heavy, uncomfortable feeling in the air, you wake.

The sound of your voice nearly scares him.

Rollo turns to you, eyes wide as you sit up, drawing your knees to your chest. "What?"

"I asked if you're okay," you repeat, turning to the space beside you to check the time. "It's two in the morning."

His answer is immediate, as calm as he can muster, although there's a faint crack in his voice on the last word. "I'm well. I was just thinking,"

"Thinking? Now?"

He nods, and turns back to the mantle. His arms are crossed over his chest, acting as a sort of armor, protecting him.

You tilt your head to the side. "Did you have a bad dream?"

He hates how perceptive you can be, sometimes. It takes him a moment to think of a suitable answer- is it worth telling you the truth?

"I have bad dreams all the time," you say. "Like... all the time. Weird ones, too. It's nothing to be embarrassed a-"

"I am not embarrassed," he snaps, whirling around on his heels to face you. His tone softens when he sees the perplexed expression on your face. "I was just trying to tire myself before returning to bed. I didn't want to disturb you."

You shake your head. "I wouldn't have minded if you did. I understand... do you want to talk about it?"

He's silent, looking away again, which is enough of an answer to you.

"Then will you at least come back to bed?"

Rollo supposes he should. He doesn't want to risk worrying you any further. That would only stir up more questions.

He settles himself in bed, lying flat on his back with his arms crossed over his chest, more cadaver than human. You always found that position so amusing, for whatever reason, and even now you can't contain a laugh.

"Are you cold? You're shaking,"

Damn it. He is. He hadn't even noticed... and though his tremors aren't from the temperature, he agrees with you anyway.

"Yes. It's rather cold tonight,"

You hum a small note of contemplation and inch closer to him. "May I?"

Rollo's face immediately turns red, although he can't help but indulge himself... just this once. For your sake, anyway.

He nods.

You come closer, resting your head on his shoulder and putting an arm around his waist in the most comfortable position you can manage while he's lying like this.

Your body is warm, soft, comforting... all things that would normally repulse him, but it's you...

He pats the back of your hand with one of his in a reassuring, though awkward gesture. As much as he expected to feel his heart pounding even harder at your closeness, there's something quite... safe about the embrace. He can't deny it.

"Good night," you murmur, already half-asleep.

He closes his eyes, allowing his body to relax... just the tiniest bit.

"Good night,"

[laangdonn]

not anymore pt2

summary: y/n tries growing in her grief at hilltop.

pairing: carl grimes x female reader

a/n: ya’llllllll thank you so much for loving the first part!!! i’d actually written pt1 a year ago and never rlly planned to ever make a pt2 but ask and you shall receive lolol, hope you like!!

*read part 1 here*

*************************

“todays the day rick n carl should be gettin here,” maggie said, sending a spoon with tomato soup into her mouth, “you ready to see him?”

i released a shaky breath, playing with my own bowl of food as my starved appetite vanished. i stared at the red, swirling liquid. “i don’t know.”

“a month wasn’t enough time apart?” she asked, eyeing me cautiously.

i hadn’t wanted to repeat myself, but i had no other answer. “i- i don’t know.”

it hadnt seemed like a month apart. i would’ve sworn it had been yesterday i walked out of alexandria alone, two duffel bags in my hand and a gun, ready to fend off anything or anyone that crossed my path.

but it had been a month, the longest we’d ever been apart. and i missed him more than anything.

it still didn’t shake my hesitancy, my worry that the moment we spend time alone we’ll go back to disagreements and fighting and perhaps, i’d never go back to alexandria again. and that’ll be the end of us. till one of dies and the other is forced to reconcile the fact that we’d never made up.

it scared me to see him. to see death again.

“well,” maggie swallowed again, her short hair bristling in the chilly air from the open window, “i think when you see him, that’s when you’ll really know.”

i nodded slowly, my eyes still trained on my soup.

she stood up out of the chair, “i need to find greg, talk to him ‘bout a few things.” she eyed me again, noticing my static, unmoving position. “you’ll be alright while i’m gone?”

i looked up at her then, not wanting her to worry, “i’ll be fine, mags.”

she gave me a small, reassuring smile and a kiss on the crown of my head before she went off, and i was left in my thoughts.

luckily, maggie’s trailer provided a lot of privacy, and knowing the tenants at hilltop, i wouldn’t be disturbed.

i stared off to a chip in the paint, thinking.

——

“i can come with you.”

“carl-“

“why can’t i just take you to hilltop and leave?”

“because, carl, don’t-“

“it’s dangerous, y/n, and reckless-“

“carl-“

“and stupid-“

“would you stop interrupting me!”

he went quiet then, his burly arms crossed over his flannel chest, eye staring daggers into my figure.

we stood by the door to our house, two duffel bags leaning against the wall i so desperately wanted to pick up and run out.

i knew despite him saying he wouldn’t stop me going, it wouldn’t eliminate the imminent last ditch effort fight from occurring.

“you told me you’d let me go.” i said slowly, as if reprimanding a child, “don’t go back on your word.”

he rolled his eyes, “god forbid i don’t want you out there by yourself! have my dad take you for fucks sake just don’t-“ he pinched the bridge of his nose, inhaling stressfully, “don’t go by yourself.”

“i can take care of myself, carl.” i spat, feeling anger surge through me at his distrust in me. “i’ve survived this long.”

“you never know what can happen out there.” he threw his hands up, “or here! yesterday, that dick’s gun was to your head in this fucking room!”

i felt his rage, i voiced his yells. it made my head spiral that i were still trapped in alexandria, suffocating in this broken reflection of my relationship that could barely withstand some independence.

but, bringing myself to reality, i also knew his fear, knew the dread at the unknown. knew the loss he was experiencing even while i was still standing in front of him, alive and breathing.

i shuddered out a breath, walking over to him to put my hands sturdily on his shoulders.

i looked up at him, watching his anger dissipate when we locked eyes.

“i know you’re scared for me,” i said softly, talking quickly before he’d have a chance, “but i need you to trust me.”

“y/n-“

“no,” i put my finger to his soft lips, “let me finish.”

i brought my hand down, his eye watching my finger fall from his flesh.

“i’ll send a letter the second i get to hilltop, so you know i’m safe,” i swallowed, “i’ll have my gun loaded and extra ammo, anything i could scavenge up from the armory.”

his eyebrow relaxed, listening to me talk.

“this is what we’re made for now,” i shook him a bit and sent him a weary smile to ease his tension, “we’re made to do these things on our own.”

he exhaled shakily, nodding to fool himself into thinking he’d allow this, that he’d watch me walk away from him into trees of undead and alive.

i leaned up to his face, our noses brushing every so slightly. my heart boomed in my chest, beating so hard i swore he could hear it himself. maybe it was both of our hearts, desperate to intertwine again.

“do you trust me?” i whispered softly, so our lips grazed.

i heard him swallow, and the breath from his nose fan my face.

“yeah,”

i pulled back at that, knowing if we kissed, for the first time since…, i knew i’d lose the battle to my heart and stay.

i grabbed the two duffel bags and locked my palm around the doorknob.

looking over my shoulder, i sent a reassuring smile, “i’ll see you when we’re okay.”

he didn’t respond, and while it sent a jolt to my gut of disappointment and guilt, i turned back and opened the door.

“y/n,” i heard him say, just as i left.

i barely looked over my shoulder.

“i love you.”

i bit my lip, finally, tears stinging the corners of my eyes.

“i love you, too.”

and the door shut.

——

crossing the lines to hilltop and realizing who i’d be seeing almost sent me running the other direction.

fear of maggie’s state of being gave me a headache as i drew closer to the entrance, and once i was close enough in view, could see her faint outline on a lookout post illuminated by the bright sun behind her.

i knew she saw me when i heard a voice scream my name.

she disappeared from the post and soon the large, wooden doors opened. i ran the rest of the way, dropping my bags and falling tiredly into her expectant arms.

as much as i told myself i’d stay strong for her, the smell of her hair and the memories of that night came sweeping back and i sobbed, wet and noisily, into her chest that shook with her own cries.

i didn’t realize we’d fallen to the floor till i felt my exposed knees sting from skimming the rough dirt.

“what-“ she sniffled, a sob breaking through her, “what are you doing here?”

i took a shaky breath in, trying to compose myself, “i came to see you.”

she frowned, burying her face back into my shoulder.

we cried a few more moments, let ourselves drown in glenn’s absence, in front of all the onlookers who just watched silently.

i pulled back, dread creeping into my stomach when i looked at maggie’s

“the-“ i swallowed, “the baby-“

“fine,” she answered quickly, stroking tears off my cheeks and sending me a faint smile, “just fine.”

i breathed a sigh of relief, nodding at the scarce good news before standing and helping her up, too.

she looked healthier than the last time i saw her, fatter in her face and her arms. her stomach barely bulged as a reminder a part of glenn resided there.

behind her i saw sasha standing, her arms folded. even from far away, i could tell she just looked even worse, instead of better.

i sent her my best sympathetic smile, receiving one back but knowing deep down, it was just another lie to comfort me.

i looked to maggie, gripping her forearms, “take me to him.”

seeing glenn’s grave, surprisingly, comforted me more than disturbed me. to know we had him, safe under dirt and bugs, but still, safe. better than laying out in the gravel, for prying, evil eyes to view him.

he was returned back to us in less than one piece, but his soul was whole with us.

i held maggie’s hand as we looked down, a few flowers resting over the raised patch of dirt.

i swallowed harshly, “what would he think now?”

“of what?” she asked softly, our eyes never wavering from the ground.

“of carl and i. of what’s been destroyed.”

i felt her squeeze my hand, “you and carl aren’t destroyed.”

i shook my head, feeling tears blur my vision and my nose sting.

she continued, “you’re right for the time apart, to grieve separately if that’s what you need.”

“is it enough?” i asked brokenly, finally looking at her.

she gestured our intertwined hands to glenn’s grave.

“ask him.”

and so i did.

i spoke to glenn’s grave everyday. sometimes scattered stories of our memories, from the prison, from on the road. sometimes i cried so hard i couldn’t breathe under the empty dusk, sometimes i laughed so hard my stomach hurt. sometimes i sat in silence.

but mostly i talked about carl.

——

if i stared hard enough at that paint chip, i could’ve sworn the wall tore a bit more right before my eyes.

i knew who i had to see, to remind me this absence was for something, that i’d grown in my grief.

my feet carried me to his grave, hidden away behind maggie’s trailer. i sat down comfortably in front of it, hugging my knees to my chest.

“are we okay?” i whispered to the air. “will i see you in him?”

“was all of this for nothing? will it always be this way, glenn?” i wiped my hand over my nose.

i let out a shaky breath at the thought, “can we overcome this?”

“yes.”

my head whipped around, and i saw carl, standing with his arms at his sides, tears filling up his ocean eye.

it gave me whiplash how fast i stood up and launched myself into his unexpecting arms. they rested limp for a moment, but quickly moved to hug my torso tightly, lifting my feet slightly off the grass as i wedged my head between his neck.

we pulled back slightly to stare at each other, and i searched his face for the blood, for the black line, for the axe.

i smiled softly when i realized all i saw were glenn’s memories.

happy memories, of the hot days at the prison when we sweat so hard playing tag, of playing a dusty board game in alexandria the first night when we were too hesitant to sleep, of watching his love with maggie and seeing it reflected in carl and i.

“why’re you smiling?” he whispered, his own face pulling to reveal a grin. he knew.

i leaned in closer, tipping his sheriffs hat up so our noses could brush.

“because i don’t see it, not anymore.” i finally let our lips touch, a kiss that sent flames bursting in my stomach and my fingers to shake with anticipation.

he leaned into the kiss, and i felt the breath on my face at his sigh of relief.

i knew he knew what i meant when i saw the tiny twinkle in his eyes reappear looking at me, knowing he felt the same.

i pulled back ever too quickly, evident in how he leaned in again.

but before i gave him the chance to kiss me again, i let my smile burst through.

we all had a long way to go, people to kill and more people to lose, but in this moment, right in this moment:

“i see you now.” i said.

and that was enough.

[imamotherfuckingstar-lord]

imagine coming to save Ace

A heaviness shuddered across Ace’s shoulders as tears formed in his eyes; all he ever wanted to do was unburden those he loved the most. Even if it meant in his death, naturally he would accept that. Yet all he could think of was his brothers. How proud of Luffy he was and how comforting it felt to know he would see Sabo soon. Then behind those thoughts, those wonderful memories, there you stood with a warm smile and a hand held out for him. As you always did.

He’d miss that that most. Rendezvous between islands and adventures to play catch up, to indulge in a something romantical that both of you would laugh off later. It was silly – two pirates from different crews but it worked anyways.

He’d miss you so much, would you miss him?

“I would.”

Ace chuckled at his own insanity because now he was hearing voices – your voice. Crumbling into laughter, he stilled when he felt a warm touch on his bare shoulder. He had taken to looking away from the fight down below in the name of saving his life. He couldn’t bear to see people put their lives on the line for him, especially his little brother. Of course, the thought of your appearance crossed his mind, and he hoped you knew better than to not stay away. If he was going to die, he didn’t want you to witness it.

“You’re not dying today, Ace. There’s a lot of people down there fighting, so you must do the same.”

He stared up at the figure looming over him; a dark shadow until the a few clouds moved and his eyes squinted in the sun. Blinking a few times, the owner of the voice appeared before him, and a sense of dread filled his eyes. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“No one, not even you, gets to tell me where I can and can not go.” You kneeled before him and that’s when he noticed the stillness down below. The fight seemed to halt in place, and he realized you were overexerting your powers.

“Nope. I just enhanced,” you smiled at Ace as you worked to release him from his shackles. “I know we haven’t seen each other in a few months, but I’ve been working really hard. I can do more than mind read and slow things down for just seconds.”

Ace studied your face, eyes focused as you freed his wrists, and he felt his heart shake. The entire ground shook under him as he realized something he had feared for so long – he was in love with you and he did not want to die. At least not today and not until he got decades with you. The thought made you smile, and you reached for his face, thumb caressing his cheek.

“I’d like that too, but we need to fight for that.” Ace inhaled deeply and quickly pulled you against his body, he held you tight and laid a kiss under your earlobe.

“Okay,” he whispered into your ear, breath hot on your skin. “Let’s fight. Then we can go away.”

An image of a humble home on a small island, looking out to the sea. A few fruit trees and a child sprinting around the grass. It was definitely a life worth fighting for and you kissed Ace so hard on the mouth he stumbled back with laughter. He looked like himself once more and you knew he was ready to fight. You watched as he stood up and held out a hand to you, a wild look in his eyes.

A look of a man so determined to live.

Taking his hand, you stood on your feet and looked down on the frozen fight.

“I guess you get to meet my little brother today.”

“I already have, who do you think sent word to me?”

The thought of Luffy doing all this for him brought tears to Ace’s eyes and you reached down for his hand, giving it a squeeze. He glanced over at you and wondered if he was worth all this trouble. People will lose their lives today for him…

“Life is worth fighting for and you don’t get a say in how we all feel about you. So, buck up, Ace. I suspect it’s going to be a long fight.”

“I love you,” he whispered, hearting pounding from the anticipation until you slipped your hand from his and held it forward. He watched as you flicked your wrist and time seemed to continue as it did, the fighting grew louder, and you smiled at him.

“I love you too.”

[iamfitzwilliamdarcy]

ok the evolution of Katniss and having kids post:

Katniss is thinking from the earliest moments of the book how she never wants kids. This is Chapter 1, even before the Reaping, when Gale mentions running away, if they didn't have so many kids, obviously here, he's referencing their siblings, but then this exchange happens:

"I never want to have kids," I say. "I might, if we didn't live here," says Gale. "But you do," I say, irritated. "Forget it," he snaps back.

This is literally page 9 in my copy from the library. Katniss has been thinking about how much they provide for their siblings already and she's also just given us exposition on her own parents-- her grief for her father and her resentment of her mother; it's also setting Gale up as a potential romantic partner, which Katniss readily rejects and is confused by the conversation at all (girly, you brought it up)

Again, in the first book, Katniss thinks she will never have children. This is nearing the end of the games-- it's just her and Peeta and Cato left-- and while Peeta sleeps, she lets herself for the first time think about making it home and what her future would be.

I think of Haymitch with all his money. What did his life become? HE lives alone, no wife or children, most of his waking hours drunk. I don't want to end up like that. 'But you won't be alone,"I whisper to myself. I have my mother and Prim. Well, for the time being. And then... I don't want to think about then, when Prim has grown up, my mother passed away. I know I'll never marry, never risk bringing a child into this world. Because if there's one thing being a victor doesn't guarantee, it's your children's safety. My kids' names would go right into the reaping balls with everyone else's. And I swear I'll never let that happen.

I included the long version and not just the part about never marrying, because Katniss recognizes she risks being alone forever. For her, even though it's terrible, it's better than having a child in this world, a world that is so horrific and threatening. She also automatically links marriage to having kids (as is natural), which complicates her relationships with both Gale and Peeta.

Catching Fire starts with a similar vein, but one Katniss now has to confront-- in order to keep those she loves safe, she will have to marry Peeta and live happily ever after with him. She wonders if President Snow will insist on them having babies, thinks it's likely a child of hers will end up in the arena because Victors' children sometimes do and Gale suspects the drawings are rigged. She reflects again on Haymitch's situation --unmarried, no children, wasted all the time-- and likens it to self-imposed solitary confinement.

Later, we get the fake baby drop, of course, and Katniss, processing, thinks "Isn't it the thing I dreaded most about the wedding, about the future-- the loss of my children to the Games? And it could be true now couldn't it? If I hadn't spent my life building up layers of defenses until I recoil at even the suggestion of marriage or a family"

We're still on the same track, the recognition of her fear of having kids in the world she lives in. Interestingly, I think it's still a loss of her children to the Games, but a less painful one-- nonexistent, possible children that she'll never have.

Peeta later is trying to convince Katniss to be the one of them to survive by talking about her family back home, and when he doesn't mention the pregnancy, she knows he's being sincere. He even mentions Gale and Katniss takes it in a way that means he would be okay if she wanted to be with Gale. He transitions back to playing the Games by telling Katniss, "You're going to make a great mother you know."

Katniss then wonders if it could be more than just a Games manipulation-- "Like a reminder to me that I could still one day have kids with Gale? Well, if thatw as it, it was a mistake. Because for one thing, that was never part of my plan."

It's HERE that we get a bit of a kicker-- she thinks about how of the two of them, Peet is the one who should be a parent. And she imagines his children--

As I drift off, I try to imagine that world, somewhere in the future, with no Games, no Capitol. A place like the meadow in the song I sang to Rue as she died. Where Peeta's child could be safe.

I think it's the first time she's considered the possibility of a safe child, and it has to be Peeta's child. This isn't something she ever imagines about anyone else, even when she thinks about running away with Gale.

Children are a sign of hope, of a possibility of living in a world where they won't be sacrificed on the altars of the Capitol. In Mockingjay, Katniss frequently notes that District 13 has very few children, especially following an illness, and that children appear to be prized -- it's partially why it's hard for her to initially accept that the rebels would bomb children- recklessly, wastefully

But it's the epilogue of Mockingjay, where this all culminates-- where her hope finds fruition. She says "Peeta wanted them so badly," but it takes years for her stop dreaming and start trusting that she's made that world, where her children, where Peeta's children "take the words of the song for granted"

It's a perfect ending, because from the start Katniss has denied herself even the hope of children, develops to thinking maybe that it could be possible one day-- for someone as good as Peeta, and that maybe his children could be safe, at least-- and in the end, his children--her own children--are no longer a hope, but Real.

[sefinaa]

❝𝐏𝐀𝐂: 𝐈 𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐫, 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐰.❞

What do you need to hear?

Subliminal channel | Masterlist

Tips | Paid Readings

Not a tarot card reading, only based on my intuition.

18+ readings

Divider

Pile 1

You must understand that the reason why everything isn’t going your way isn’t due to the fact you’re not a good person. It is not about your good deeds, or your bad deeds. It is not about who you harm inadvertently, this stems from you as a person. What are you looking for or in your case, whom are you looking for? Are you looking for something that satisfies you for the time being or for the longer term? Ask yourself this. Are you deserving of good luck? Am I deserving of the best?

If you think to yourself that every small detail of your life isn’t going well then you stimulate your mindset in the wrong light. Small simple bad things are normal for us all. One paper cut, a fight occurring, a friendship ending, these things are much smaller than you know.

A paper cut, you were careless and you lack patience.

A fight occurring teaches you patience, resilience, and knowledge. You learn from their behavior, are they a hot headed, calm, how do they react? It heightens your sense, awareness and analytical skills.

A friendship ending is a lesson for us all, it makes us grow as a person and it teaches us how to make ourselves the priority because friendships always end no matter, positive or not. Happy memories are the things one can hold on but to reminisce about the past makes us a prisoner. Do you want to be a prisoner? Does that sound ideal to you? If so, why?

So to ask once more, who are you looking for?

Think about this for a bit and speak to yourself about it until you realize you already know the answer.

The answer is within you.

Pile 2

When you see fire near you, you instantly run or perhaps freeze due to fear, and yet here we stand in the midst of it excited by it. Why is that? Why do you think you seek the adventure of danger? Do you think it plays the factor of being the person you desire or perhaps you’re hiding away once more under a facade of dread and hatred?

Do you believe that the burning flame within you is seeking to go upward or downwards? Do you believe that the same burning flame is you or perhaps it's merely the people around you, your environment?

Why all these questions? What is this reading, you may ask, the truth is, your mind is rather clustered of useless thoughts surrounding you like a snowstorm where you cannot escape, only to shelter oneself. Learn to let go of the thoughts that do not benefit you, and take in the ones that makes you happy. Let go of your worries to whom you believe or what you believe in, and let them take those worries away. Come back anew and make yourself whole once more. Your life is in your hands, not them, not the community nor your family, simply just you and you alone. Obstacles surely are a pain, are they not? But then again, obstacles make us whole so, will you be the person who stops midway through the obstacle or will you go forth with it and leap over it, perhaps even swim around it? The choice is yours and it lies within your grasp. You choose.

Pile 3

When you see the moon hiding the sun, you find it to be mesmerizing. The moon shines its beauty for us so we can enjoy the stars, perhaps to stargaze, maybe to feel like ourselves, who knows. But then again it’s just a normal cycle, a factual tradition, I suppose. But then we look at society and how it teaches us that our flaws are significant and that we must be perfect like Barbie and Ken. But then again, one cannot achieve such perfection, it’s simply impossible. Right?

Why do you believe that you must be perfect at everything? You must achieve everything and that if you do not, you’re unworthy? Not good enough and such. What are you gaining from that? Would you preferably say that to a child, let alone your child? No.

Would you find an infant, barely born and tell them, “you’re doing this wrong. What is wrong with you?! You cannot do anything right!” No. So why do you do it to yourself?

If I were to yell at you right now, how would you react? Would you reciprocate it? Would you let it bury inside and create resentment towards me? Maybe you might slap me as well. Or I suppose, you will laugh it off like it’s nothing, or maybe it truly isn’t anything because you became numb to it because you justified it.

Even so, it’s not justified to act so harsh on yourself, high expectations won’t lead you anywhere, well, I suppose it would leave you in a dump. That doesn’t sound enjoyable, does it? No.

Maybe next time, let’s try being easier on ourselves and show gratitude to oneself for achieving a small accomplishment and giving ourselves a reward. Shouldn’t be hard if you actually care for yourself, now would it? You tell me. Decide it for yourself.

Pile 4

When I think of your pile, I see a child, presumably someone who looks pale, but isn’t. I see an image of someone wearing nothing, but not in a perverted fashion. I see them staring into my eyes with such sadness, such hatred in their heart and eyes. So much anger, and yet there is a “help me” feeling of the way they are gazing into my eyes.

What I’m saying is, those reading this pile feels .. a sense of emptiness and apathy. This pile gave me anxiety for 3 hours straight and I ruined my nails by biting them (which I never do), I wish I was exaggerating, but I am not. Your pile is very rocky, lots of anxiety and frustration, and so much resentment. I can feel my heart beating so incredibly fast, I feel suffocated, I feel like I am drowning, but it’s not the same as you expect someone to drown. I feel as I am dying and that is what you feel right now.

I hear depression, anxiety, BPD, and “I’m going to kill you.” Everyone here feels so much anger, it’s going to explode on the next person. Sometimes you feel like no one understands you and they treat you as a joke, at times you feel as if you aren’t important enough to be apart of your social group, even your family as well. At times, you want to.. jump off a cliff but the thought scares you very much, not because you're a coward, but because you have this small shred of hope that you may have a better life, and you will.

I see a hill, someone's child is holding a book or perhaps a diary, they are holding it tightly, close to their heart. Despite if you don’t read or write journals/diaries, something you have within you is what you hold very close to you and you must cherish that. Keep it close, I’m not speaking of your negativity (some of you, stop it), I’m speaking of the thing you want so badly but you believe it is impossible to achieve and yet it is not. How could it be impossible? You found the right pile for you, so what is the issue of you believing it will come to you even when you do nothing? Anything is possible, that’s very obvious, understand this. If you put your mindset on something, in this case, what you want, you think of it or perhaps daydream about it, then it’s yours. That’s all.

Here is what you must hear.

When a shooting star shoots across the night sky, we all become hypnotized by it due to it being such a rarity, correct? We stargaze because stars are so mesmerizing, so enchanting. When you think of what you desire, that lost hope, you become hypnotized about it, don’t you? If shooting stars are possible, then how dare you say what you desire, that shred of hope isn’t possible?

Getting lost in a world of possibilities is such an exciting experience, isn’t it? But when you realize it’s not real, it hurts even more. Perhaps using that small shred of happiness can amplify what you want. Ever think of that? So just daydream or think of the things you want, even if it’s a “silly” daydream about being a knight saving a princess in a castle with dragons and such, and then think of what you want for a split second even and go back to that “silly” daydream. You’ll manifest what you want without even realizing.

My intuition is telling me is that you can get what you desire if you change your approach in life. If you can do that, then that small shred of hope in your life can bypass the hopelessness that you feel as of this moment. It will twist your mind and make it assume that what you want is so incredibly easy to reach and achieve.

[myonos]

BLOODBAG

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

IN WHICH you are a princess betrothed to the vampire prince of the most feared kingdom in the world.

lee heeseung x f!reader

genre: fluff, small amount of angst, one sided enemies to lovers

warnings! cursing, slightly suggestive, mentions of blood

wc: 6k (6088)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

This is your destiny.

You cannot change your destiny.

It chose you for a reason.

  These are things you’ve been hearing since the ripe age of 5.

What is your destiny? To become a bloodsucker's personal blood bag.

From the day you were born, you’ve been betrothed to Lee Heeseung. 

The Lee family is a long line of powerful vampires. They strike fear into every kingdom, every man, every woman, every child.

No one dares to disobey the wishes of the Lees.

  So how did you, a mere mortal, become betrothed to him?

Since the birth of the Lee clan, there has been a prophecy. It foresees the entire history of the Lee clan.

According to them, it has never been wrong.

  One fateful day 21 years ago, the Lee prophecy told Mira and Seungheon Lee that their first and only child would be betrothed to the first child of the current reigning king and queen of the Desira clan.

  That child would be you.

And oh, you’ve dreaded the day.

You remember being seven and asking your parents why you had to marry a stinky boy.

“Because it’s your destiny.” They would tell you.

You got sick of hearing that.

  By now, you've accepted it, although the bitterness in your heart still beats.

Today is the day you are moving to Lee Castle.

You should mention you've never even met the Lees.

So moving into their home? The whole arrangement isn't exciting for you. 

  You’re sad to leave your parents and your people. They've reassured you that you'll be fine, but you still fear the Lees will isolate you and never let you leave. 

  You don’t know what Lee Heeseung is like, but you don’t care. You'll marry him for the safety of your kingdom, but you will not show him any kindness.

  As you arrive in Lee’s kingdom, you're amazed.

You expected gloom and doom, weary, sad, fearful people, but it's the opposite.

Children are laughing and playing about. 

Markets galore of anything you can think of, clothing, fabrics, food, trinkets.

  Men are coming out of the woods, carrying stalks of wood on their backs.

As you stare out the window, a child catches your attention. She’s playing in the grass beside a booth; you assume her mother runs.

She looks up, and your eyes meet.

Waving, her smile gleams in the sun.

You wave back, your smile matching hers. 

“Can we stop for a moment?” You ask the coachman. 

As you step out, whispers surround you.

You walk to the woman's booth. “Hello.”

As she looks up, she gasps. 

She scrambles for a moment, and you can't help but giggle.

 “Your Majesty, I knew you were coming, but I didn't expect to see you. Can I be of assistance?”

You look at the array of jewelry decorating her booth.

Your eyes stop on a beautiful necklace. 

An emerald sits in the middle of a circular frame—the emerald glistens in the sunlight. 

You pick it up cautiously. “How much for this?”

The woman's eyes widened, “For you, Your Majesty, it costs nothing.”

You shake your head softly, “Nonsense. Is this enough?”

You hand her several bills out of your pouch, and she gapes.

“I can't accept this, Your Majesty!”

“You can and you will, please?” You beg, clasping your hands together.

  She contemplates for a second before putting the money into her bag.

“Your Majesty, how can I thank you?”

“No need, keep doing what you're doing.”

  You feel a slight tug on your dress, and the little girl from before is at your side.

You bend down to her size, “Hello, what's your name?”

“I'm Ara, Your Majesty!”

What an adorable child, “Ara is a beautiful name. You can call me Y/N.”

 “Thank you, you have a beautiful name, too, Y/N.”

She smiles that blinding smile before presenting a flower in her tiny hands. 

“I picked this for you.”

You take it from her, “Thank you so much, Ara. Now I have two beautiful gifts.” You gesture to the necklace.

She takes the flower and puts it in your hair by your ear. 

“Now you're even more beautiful!”

 “Your majesty,” the coachman calls, “we should be going.”

  You nod, sad that you have to leave.

“I hope to see you again, Ara.”

She nods before hugging you tightly. Everyone around you awes as you hug her back.

Then it's back into the carriage, and you continue your ascent to the castle.

When you reach the entrance, the large doors are agape, and a carpet greets you.

As you step out, loud footsteps come from inside until three people appear.

The king and queen are smiling, unexpected to you.

“Y/N, my dear, so great to meet you at last,” the King says. 

You do a long curtsy, bowing your head, “Your Majesties.”

The queen takes your hand into her own, “What a beautiful girl you are. I hope you'll enjoy being here.”

“You're too kind.”

“This is our son, Heeseung.”

They part to reveal him, and oh. 

You weren't expecting him to be so handsome.

 He offers a sweet smile.

“Y/N,” he says, taking your hand and planting a kiss on it. “It's a pleasure.”

You bow to him, “To you as well.”

His parents waste no time, shouting at the guards surrounding the entrance to bring your things inside.

They give you an extensive tour of their castle, introducing every room. Their foyer is beautiful and decorated with multiple styles of paintings.

  They eventually lead you to your room. 

It’s huge, even bigger than your room at home.

The bed sits in the middle of the far right wall. It’s king-sized with red silk sheets and a comforter.

Heeseung bends down and whispers in your ear, “More than big enough for the 2 of us.”

  Face filled with confusion, you turn to look at him, but all he does is wink at you.

What happened to Mr. Respectful?

  “You’ll meet us for dinner when you’ve unpacked your things, yes?” The queen says, not noticing the scowl on your face.

You nod, watching them leave.

Heeseung does not leave; he closes the door behind his parents, leaving you two alone.

  “I’ve been waiting every day of my life to meet you, and now I have you.” He saunters towards you, close enough until your chests are pressed against each other lightly.

  “First, you don’t have me. I’m not happy about this marriage. I’m only doing it for my kingdom.”

Your arms cross in anger, putting just the smallest space between you and him.

He laughs, “You’re cute. However you view this marriage doesn’t matter. You and I will be one soon enough.”

  Whatever that means. 

  “I’d appreciate it if you left my room now. Don’t you have to prepare for dinner too?” Heeseung puts his hands up in defense, not saying another word before leaving your room.

  So not only are you stuck marrying him, but he’s also a weird dickhead? Great. 

  You sigh in defeat and grab your bags to unpack.

There are no drawers, so there must be a closet.

There are two large mahogany doors on the left side of the room.

You open the first but do not find a closet, instead; you find an enormous bathroom. There’s a large, deep-set tub in the back of the room with three large shower heads attached. To the left of the tub is the toilet and double sinks, with more than enough space for your hair and skin care products.

  You close that door and then move to the other.

It is the closet, and it is vast. It has enough room for your many clothes, so you begin to place and hang them to your desire.

Once you’ve finished, you hear a bell chime within the castle. You look at the clock above your bed and see it’s 8 o’clock. 

  You can’t be late for dinner. You exit your room, bowing to the guards outside your door.

You almost fear you’ve forgotten where the dining room is, but your feet seem to remember, moving and not stopping.

  The large double doors of the dining room greet you, and as you put your hands on the handles, you pray you’re not the last to arrive.

You take a deep breath, fanning your face quickly before opening the doors.

  Dammit.

  The king, queen, and Heeseung are already seated.

You bow, apologizing profusely for your tardiness.

The king waves his hand, “Don’t apologize, dear. A minute will not kill anyone.”

  You sit in your reserved seat, of course, next to Heeseung while his parents sit at the other end of the table.

Heeseung wastes no time in putting his hand on your thigh.

You want to push it off but don’t want to upset his parents.

  Now you’re wondering why exactly you are meeting for dinner? You’re the only human here. Don’t they drink blood to quench their hunger?

“We can still eat regular food, sweetheart. Blood is just our preference.” 

Did you say that out loud, or can the queen read minds?

“Yes, I can read minds,” she says, smiling.

  You try to stop thinking, knowing it’s futile.

“Y/N, now that you’re here, you must tell us all about yourself. It’s only right that we get to know our future daughter-in-law.” The king holds up his drink, which you assume is wine…or blood.

  You clear your throat, “There’s not much to tell. I enjoy art and paintings, and I’d love to admire the ones in your foyer during my free time. I’m a straightforward person. I pride myself on being kind to all and being open-minded.”

As the king and queen take in your words, you can feel Heeseung’s grip on your thigh getting tighter.

It’s almost to where it hurts, so you put your hand on top of his, making him relax.

  Within a few minutes, dinner arrives. It's a beautifully done steak (extra rare for them) with potatoes, asparagus, and a beautiful au jus.

You have to say it was pretty delicious, and you devoured your plate within minutes.

You almost feel embarrassed as the Lees stare at you, but the king smiles. “Nice to see someone who truly enjoys well-prepared food.”

  You laugh with them, blushing as you wipe your mouth with your napkin.

By 9:30, you find yourself getting tired, eyes fluttering every few seconds.

“Heeseung, be a dear and bring Y/N up to bed.” The queen requests.

Heeseung immediately gets out of his chair, deciding to be a gentleman and pulling yours out.

You take his hand and leave the dining room, wishing the king and queen goodnight.

  As you walk the long halls, Heeseung takes the chance to wrap his arm around your waist.

You grab his hand, about to pull him off, but he suddenly twirls you around to face him.

You try to step back, “What are you doing?”

  “You’re too tired to keep walking.” Without another word, he tucks his left hand under your knees and the other around your waist and lifts you into his arms. 

You squeal, “Put me down! I can walk just fine.” 

He shakes his head, “What kind of future husband would I be if I let my lady walk when she’s tired?” 

You go to protest again, but Heeseung shushes you. Giving up, you let him carry you until you’ve arrived at your bedroom door. “May I come in?” He asks.

Your confused stare has him chuckling, “To wish you goodnight.” 

You’re about to ask why he can’t do it right here, but he’s already entering your room. 

You head to your bathroom to wash up, glaring at him as you go. 

“I’m not gonna do anything!”

After you’ve washed up, you head back into your room, expecting Heeseung to be gone, but he’s not. 

You yelp, putting your hands in front of yourself, even though you have a robe on. 

“Relax, I can’t see anything.”

  You go into your closet, closing the door behind you to change. 

Heeseung is now sitting on your bed. As he looks up, he smirks, “Cute pj’s.”

You huff, taking his hand and dragging him off your bed, “Nice having you, goodnight!”

Before you can push him out the door, he puts his hands out, stopping himself. 

“What, no goodnight kiss?”

You laugh mockingly, “In your dreams, goodnight Heeseung.”

  He finally leaves, giving you peace. 

You practically launch yourself into bed, snuggling into the warm sheets. 

So little happened today, yet you feel exhausted as it ends. 

You don’t know what’s in store for you, but you hope Heeseung doesn’t piss you off to death.

As your eyes flutter, you think about your family and the friends you’ve left behind. This is your life now. 

Maybe it’s best to accept it. Perhaps you should try to make the most of it. 

When the Lees gave their extravagant castle tour, they told you about a garden in the back of the castle. If you desire, you may enter the garden. 

You recall the king's words, “This is your home now. There is no place you can’t go.” 

So here you find yourself in the garden. It’s home to a multitude of fresh flowers. 

Orchids, carnations, roses, peonies, lilies, you name it, they’re here. You can’t help but go around smelling every flower, the scent sweet to your nose. 

Soon you find yourself in the garden's center, where a sleek steel bench sits. 

You sit down, admiring the surrounding scenery.

  “I see you’ve found my favorite spot.”

There’s that aggravating voice, the last thing you wanted to hear this morning. 

“Is it?” You ask. “I wouldn’t expect you to be the type to like flowers.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, pretty girl. I’d love to change that.” Heeseung says, sitting next to you on the bench. 

“I don’t desire to know anything about you.” 

You turn your face away from him, but his swift fingers reach for your chin, pulling you to face him. 

“But I desire to know everything about you.”

His hand is icy, to where a chill runs down your spine. 

You refuse to let him influence you. 

“What? Are you obsessed with me or something?”

  Heeseung chuckles, and his fangs, long and sharp, make their presence known. You think about those things biting you. Would it hurt? Would it leave a bruise? You fear you’ll be finding out the answer to that soon enough. 

“You could say that. Or you could say I’m fascinated with you. I have been since the day I knew we were betrothed.”

  You’re confused, “We only met yesterday. How could you be fascinated with someone you didn’t know?”

  “Because I can feel it, the connection we have. I’ve been able to feel it since day one. You may not know this, but vampires can remember every day of our lives, even our birth. As I’ve grown older, the feeling has grown stronger. It feels as if it’s going to burst out of my chest. You and I are meant for each other. The universe decided that for us. Who am I to disobey it?”

  You take Heeseung’s hand and pull it away from your face, “If you think for one second I’m going to believe this universe bullshit, you’re dead wrong!” 

  Heeseung frowns, “Why don’t you understand? The prophecy—”

“Forget the prophecy, Heeseung!” You shout, standing abruptly. “You can believe in that all you want, but that doesn’t mean I have to. I’m not doing this because the prophecy said so. I’m certainly not doing it because I love you. It’s solely for relations.” 

  For the first time, you see a flash of hurt graze Heeseung’s dark eyes. After a long, quiet minute, Heeseung leaves the garden. 

You’re relieved he’s finally gone, yet you can’t help but think you’ve gone too far. 

Insulting their prophecy probably wasn’t a good idea. 

You go inside, hoping to find Heeseung and apologize, but he’s nowhere to be found. 

You sigh in defeat. Hopefully, he’s not too angry. As much as he’s bothersome, you’re scared to think about him being angry. 

  Making your way to Heeseung’s room, you’re curious. You haven’t seen it and don’t know what to expect. You knock hesitantly but receive no answer. Taking a deep breath, you open the door. It squeals as it opens, and the darkness of his room greets you. 

It’s as if there's no one living in it.

You take small steps inside, leaving the door open to allow some light to shine in. 

“Heeseung,” you call. No answer. 

“What are you doing?”

The scream that leaves your mouth could wake the dead. You turn around to Heeseung standing over you. Your hand grabs your chest, trying to calm your racing heart. 

“I came… to apologize for earlier. I shouldn’t have insulted your prophecy. It’s important to you and your family, and I shouldn’t disrespect it. I’m sorry.”

  In the darkness, you can barely make out Heeseung's silhouette, and yet you can feel the smirk slowly rise on his face. “I knew you couldn’t resist me, pretty girl.”

You scoff, “And now you ruined it, goodbye.”

  “Wait!” He grabs your arm, preventing you from leaving, and suddenly, the room is flooded with light. Your eyes squint at the brightness, then widen in shock. “How did you do that?”

“I have telekinesis,” Heeseung shrugs like it’s so casual. Well, it is, for him, at least. 

Heeseung grabs your attention by placing his arm around your waist, the other hand coming up to gently cup your face. 

“What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to convince you to give me a chance. Let me show you how good I can be, how good we could be. I’ll beg on my knees if I have to.”

Then, he’s on his knees, holding your hands in his. 

“Please,” he pleads. “Give me a chance.”

  You feel a tug at your heartstrings. The way he’s pleading makes your legs feel weak. 

“Fine, I’ll give you a chance.”

A smile erupts on Heeseung’s face, and he stands before pulling you in for a tight hug. 

His embrace is warm, despite usually being cold. 

You slowly wrap your arms around his waist, prolonging the hug.

Heeseung finally lets you go, “You won’t regret this, I promise.” 

  You don’t hear from Heeseung for the rest of the day. You have no idea what he’s up to, but you hope you haven’t made a mistake.

The next day, you’re awoken by a gentle knocking on your door. 

You tell them to come in, and it’s Heeseung. 

“Good morning, pretty girl. I have something planned for today, so wash up and meet me downstairs by the entrance.”

He exits, leaving you wondering. 

You don’t want to keep him waiting, so you get out of bed and run to the bathroom. 

After washing up, you pick out one of your favorite dresses to wear. 

  You rush downstairs but compose yourself before you reach the entrance. 

Heeseung is there waiting for you. 

He offers you his hand, and you take it. 

“So what are we doing?” You ask.

“You’ll see,” he smirks but doesn’t reveal the plan. 

  Once outside, you see a horse standing with some guards. 

Its coat is a pristine, long mane flowing in the wind. 

“Beautiful,” you whisper, carefully approaching it. 

Reaching a handout, the horse sniffs you before letting out a loud whine. 

“He likes you,” Heeseung says, petting his mane.

“What’s his name?”

“Casper.”

Heeseung suddenly mounts Casper, holding his hand out for you.

Your eyes widen, “Wait, what?”

“Come on!” Heeseung urges you. 

You have to admit, you’ve only mounted a horse once before in your life. 

You take Heeseung’s hand, put your foot in the stirrup, and he pulls you up. 

“Hold on to me.”

You oblige, putting your arms around his waist and resting your head on his back. 

Heeseung smiles as he feels you. He doesn’t know how he’s gotten so lucky to have such a beautiful bride. He has to impress you.

  At Heeseung’s command, Casper trots.

You make your way out of the castle gates and begin your descent. 

The townspeople greet you both as you come through.

Heeseung leads you deep into the woods, far away from any people. 

After about 10 minutes, you finally stop. 

In front of you is a rock wall with vines hanging on it. 

“What are we doing in front of a wall?”

Heeseung chuckles at your cuteness before pulling back the vines, revealing an opening in the wall.

You walk through it and are amazed.

Inside is a small field surrounded by beautiful trees and flowers.

There’s a creek with crystal clear water running through it and a blanket in the middle.

  “Heeseung, it's beautiful,” you gasp.

He leads you to the blanket, and you both sit down.

“I figured if we’re going to get to know each other better, it should be somewhere special.”

“This place is special,” you say, looking above you. The sky is visible, and the clouds are big and beautiful. “Tell me about you, not just what you said at dinner last night. I want to know everything about you. Your childhood, what you like, what you dislike, everything.” Heeseung doesn't take his eyes off you.

If you're genuinely going to give him a chance, you feel he deserves the truth. Not lies or uncertainty. 

So you spill your guts.

  Heeseung pays close attention, eyes never leaving yours. He gives the occasional hum or nod, but other than that is silent.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says.

You can feel the heat rising to your cheeks.

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

  You turn to face Heeseung, “So, it’s your turn. Tell me all about you.”

“Well, I love music. It's something I've enjoyed since I was young. I play the guitar and piano, and if I'm not in my room, I'm usually in our music room.”

  “You’ll have to play for me sometime,” you say, lying on the blanket.

Heeseung follows and lies down beside you.

As you stare at the sky above you, you think, maybe this arrangement isn't so bad.

The next day Heeseung took you on a picnic. Sure, it was in the garden, but it was still romantic.

What you didn’t know before is how funny he is.

He had you laughing so hard, your stomach hurt.

You told him if he wasn’t a prince, he could make a living as a comedian.

He showed you his musical skills.

He’s like a prodigy. Not only is he a master at guitar and piano, but he can also sing.

  When he sang for you, your ears nearly melted.

His voice is like honey, caressing you from the inside out.

Your praises made his cheeks flush, a shy smile gracing his lips.

Later that same day, he took you to a festival in the kingdom.

Everyone was amazed by how good you two looked together.

They cheered for you, their future princess.

  Today, you and Heeseung find yourselves in your room. You're both lying on your bed, and you're reading to him.

It’s a fantasy book about a maiden who falls in love with someone forbidden from being with her.

“I'd hate to be forbidden from you. It’s only been a few days, but I can’t live without you.”

Heeseung’s words make your heart flutter.

“I've gotten used to you too. You're not what I expected. Your kingdom isn't what I expected, but I’m glad I was wrong.” 

  Heeseung doesn’t say anything else, so you continue reading. By the end of the book, the maiden and her lover can be together, and their people rejoice in harmony.

“That was a nice ending,” Heeseung slurs beside you. Looking at him, his eyes are closed, and he’s breathing slowly.

He must have been tired, you think to yourself.

Putting the book time, you figure you could take a nap yourself.

You lay beside him and close your eyes.

  When you awaken, Heeseung is gone, but there’s a sticky note on your forehead.

I had a nice nap. Thanks for keeping me warm - Heeseung.

You chuckle as he runs through your mind.

You went from hating him to taking naps with him within two days.

Maybe you’re weak, but this has been the best couple of days of your life.

You never realized how lonely you were until you started spending all this time with Heeseung.

  You admit you didn’t have many friends growing up. Kids stayed away from you because of your status, or they were only your “friend” to get something from you.

You never had a real friend or more than that. 

Now you have a real friend, or rather fiancé, who seems to be in love with you, although you haven’t done anything to deserve it.

  You regret how you initially treated Heeseung, but you’re looking forward to your future together; however that may look.

  The next day, you wake up to a wonderful smell.

Opening your eyes, in front of you is a whole breakfast platter: pancakes, bacon, eggs, and orange juice.

Heeseung sits at the edge of your bed, watching your reaction.

“Good morning, beautiful.”

“Good morning,” you say as you start digging in.

“I love watching you eat,” Heeseung says, coming to sit next to you.

You offer him some pancake on your fork, and he accepts it eagerly.

“I have to compliment your chef, seriously.”

  After your astounding breakfast, you and Heeseung decide to walk in the field behind the castle.

Heeseung takes the opportunity to slip his hand into yours. You don't hesitate to intertwine your fingers.

  Later, during dinner, the queen asks you how you and Heeseung are progressing. 

“We’re getting along great. Heeseung is a pleasure.”

This time when Heeseung places his hand on your thigh, you put yours on top to hold his hand.

  Throughout the next couple of days, you and Heessung spend every minute together.

You find yourself falling harder for him every day.

Quickly your wedding day approaches, and your nerves are starting to get to you.

  Heeseung has never mentioned biting you. But one day, in the library, you read a book about vampires and their betrothed. It was tradition for a vampire to bite their betrothed on their wedding day as a sign of bonding the souls together.

You didn't know if that tradition still held, but you’ll find out eventually.

You wonder what a bite feels like. Will it hurt? Are you going to feel weakness from it? The thought almost excites you. Heeseung biting you would symbolize you as his. 

  You want to ask him, but you fear it will be awkward.

Still, you feel like you have to know. To at least prepare yourself beforehand.

You and Heeseung are in the music room, and he's singing to you.

Suddenly, he stops.

“What's wrong?” He asks.

“Are you going to bite me at any point? I read about tradition in the library and wanted to know if it still applies.”

Heeseung’s eyes widened for a second before returning to normal.

He coughed awkwardly before answering, “Yes, it's tradition. But we don't have to if you're not comfortable.”

  “Can you bite me now?”

Heeseung freezes in his seat. You can hear how heavily he starts breathing.

He clears his throat, “Why?”

“Because,” you say, coming to sit next to him. “I wanna know what it feels like. And I trust you. But if you can't, it’s okay.”

“I can,” he stutters. “I just don't want to hurt you.”

“I trust you, Heeseung. I know you won't hurt me.”

  Heeseuny nods, taking your hand into his. He leads you to his room, where you're entirely alone.

“Are you sure about this? It'll probably sting, but it shouldn't hurt that much.” 

You nod, moving your hair away from your neck.

Heeseung moves his head down right in front of your neck.

You hear him breathing in and out.

“You smell good. Always have.”

  He takes your hands in his. “I'm gonna do it.”

Then he bites down. 

There's a searing pain that only lasts for a second before a calming feeling replaces it.

You can hear your blood flowing from your neck into Heeseung’s mouth. 

Then it starts to feel good. 

You feel as if you're in a trance.

The room starts to spin, and you feel Heeseung stop.

“Are you okay?”

You nod, coming back to your senses. “It felt nice.”

“Good.”

  You lead Heeseung to his bed, sitting on the edge.

“Thank you, now I know what to expect.”

“It'll be different on our wedding day. You have probably already read about it. We must perform a ritual. If you're okay with that.”

“I know,” you answer.

  “Heeseung, it feels like so much has changed in my life so quickly. But you're at the base of that, and I feel like everything is right. Like everything is going the way it should. It changed quickly from how it was my first day here, but I don't regret anything.” 

  You put your arm around his neck, playing with the hair on the back of his neck.

You can feel his shiver.

“Is this you admitting you have feelings for me?”

The smug look on his face makes you want to slap it off him.

Maybe your past mean side is still alive a little bit. 

“And if it was?”

Before he knows it, you're pulling Heeseung towards you and planting a fat kiss on his cheek. 

His face turns bright red, hand brushing where your lips just were.

  “You can't do that,” he whines. “I'm sensitive.”

“Well, I did.”

Heeseung lunges forward abruptly, planting his lips on yours. 

When he pulls back, it's your turn to blush.

“Do it again, properly this time.” You say.

  Heeseung leans forward, as do you.

When your lips meet, it tingles.

The kiss is soft and passionate. 

It feels as if you’re on cloud nine.

You can smell Heeseung’s cologne as he pulls you closer.

You place your other arm around his neck, smiling into the kiss.

As you both pull away, breathing heavily, you place one last peck on his lips.

“That was amazing.” He says, pushing a strand of your hair back.

You hum in agreement.

“It’s late. We should both go to sleep.” 

  Heeseung agrees, and you wish each other good night.

Back in your room, you feel butterflies in your stomach.

You grab the closest pillow and shove it in your face, squealing and kicking your feet.

  The next few days leading up to the wedding are spent with last-minute preparations.

The day of, your heart feels like it will beat out of your chest. 

A custom, handmade dress crafted from the finest fabrics cascades down your body.

Your mother is in the room with you, your father outside, ready to walk you down the aisle. 

Once you step out, everyone's eyes turn to you.

You see your family members on one side and Heeseung’s family and friends on the other.

You see his friends from other kingdoms, six nice boys you consider your friends now.

They're all smiling at you, and you smile back brightly.

  You finally look at Heeseung, and his eyes are trained on you. They don't leave yours for a second.

You smile shyly, and his serious face dissipates. 

You make it down the aisle, and your face goes to sit down.

“We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of Lee Heeseung and Y/L/N Y/N.

These two have been betrothed to one another since birth, and today we finally see them become one.

If anyone objects to this marriage, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

Silence.

“Good. Now we will hear the vows prepared by both parties. Heeseung, you shall go first.”

  Heeseung clears his throat, “Y/N, from a young age, I felt our connection. Not just because of the prophecy but because of our hearts. I am honored to be your husband. To protect you, to serve you, to give my life to make you happy. I will never hurt you, betray you or disrespect you. I promise to love you and give you the life you deserve.”

  You can feel tears prick your eyes as he finishes.

“Now, Y/N, it's your turn.”

“Heeseung, when I first came here, I resented you. I thought my life was being taken from me, but I was wrong. In the past two weeks, you have shown me nothing but love, caring, and what a wonderful life I will have here with you. I promise to give you all my love, respect, and care. I will never let you feel neglected or unimportant. You will always be my priority.”

  “Now, for the bonding ritual.” The officiant holds a large blade, one that was handcrafted thousands of years ago by the first king.

He then holds up the ancient prophecy, where the Lee symbol appears prominent.

The mingling of blood is a sacred part of the Lee clan and tradition.

Heeseung puts his hands around your neck, and you anticipate the bite.

It feels just as it did the first time, a sting, then bliss.

When Heeseung retreats, you palm the blood dripping down your neck.

Heeseung slices his palm with the blade, and you bring your hands together to mix the blood. 

Then, on the prophecy, you both mark it with your handprints, sealing your fate and bonding your souls together.

Heeseung takes a towel to clean your neck while you wrap his hand.

“You souls are now bonded and forever one. To the new generation of Lee!” The officiant concludes.

Standing up, everyone cheers. 

Heeseung pulls your face towards his, kissing you slowly. 

The cheers become louder as you part.

  Everyone comes up to congratulate you.

You hug your parents tightly while Heeseung hugs his.

Your friends come up, hugging you individually, and then run to Heeseung and give him multiple pats on the back. 

The ceremony afterward is full of love and laughter. Your favorite music plays as you and Heeseung cut the cake.

It's delicious red velvet with cream cheese frosting.

You can't help but smother Heeseung’s cheek in frosting as he looks at you offended.

You scream as he does it back to both your cheeks.

Once cleaned up, you head outside to the palace balcony, where the kingdom is gathered.

  They cheer as you both walk out, chanting your names.

You give them all your biggest smile and wave eagerly.

You hear someone calling you, and as you look down, you spot Ara. 

You wave at her diligently before making your way down.

She runs to you as the kingdom coos.

You pick her up and swing her around, settling her in your arms.

“You look so beautiful, Y/N,” she says.

“Thank you, Ara.”

She looks to Heeseung. “Take good care of her, please.”

You both laugh, “I will, Ara.” Heeseung replies.

  You're being handed gifts left and right by the people who you thank diligently.

The rest of your evening is spent with your friends, family, and the kingdom.

When everyone has left, it's just you and Heeseung.

“You're my wife…pinch me.”

So you do, pinching his butt.

He yelps before sighing, “I didn't mean it literally.”

Before you can react, he's attacking you with tickles, pokes, and prodding. 

You try not to scream as it's late but can't help the squeals that leave your mouth. 

  You both arrive at your door and as Heeseung goes to kiss you goodnight, you stop him.

“Why don't you get some pajamas and spend the night with me?”

You've never seen Heeseung move so quickly.

He's back within record time, and you spend the rest of the night together.

  Waking up next to Heeseung is blissful. 

You watch his handsome face as he sleeps. This man is your husband. 

You stroke his face gently, stirring him awake.

“Good morning,” his raspy voice says. 

“Morning, husband.”

He smiles, “Say it again.”

“Good morning, husband.”

  He wraps his arms around you, “I'll never get tired of hearing that.”

“Good, 'cause I’ll never stop saying it.”

“You're mine, and I’m yours. I couldn't ask for anything more.” Heeseung pecks your lips once, twice, thrice.

You take his hand in yours, “Now we get to spend the rest of our lives together.”

“I can't wait. Let the fun begin.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

and that’s it! this is the longest thing i’ve ever written (so far) so here’s to more in the future!

taglist: @chiiiiiiiiis @seungjiseyo @yohanabanana @yenqa @woongkification @lovekyr @autumn-lv @urszn

perm taglist: @escapetheash @vatterie

[shadeysprings]

The Tears on Ivory

—Priest!Lee Bodecker x Church Pianist!F!Reader

Summary — The new priest of your church asks you to sing for him.

Warnings — noncon, public sex, face shot, religious references, and other dark themes. There may be more that I forgot so I ask that you read with caution.

A/N — Kindly blame @vellicore and @flordeamatista for such sexy sinful ideas. But I mean, who could even resist this belly daddy? Not me. No beta so may be sloppy.

As always, your feedback is highly appreciated and your reblogs would be amazing. And of course, I hope y'all enjoy! ❤️

A sense of unease washes over you when you see Father Bodecker standing by the royal doors, bidding the last child and his parents goodbye. Choir practice just ended and you collect your music sheets from the stand of the piano, yet you do it with haste, not wanting to be alone with him in the great hall. But the sound of the wooden doors closing is just as loud as your beating heart.

“Leavin’ so soon, Sweetheart?” His voice echoes through the night air and you turn to face him, watching as he slowly walks up to you.

“It’s gettin’ late, Father.” You tell him with a smile, doing your best to hide the fear that begins to bloom in your core. “My daddy wouldn’t want me stayin’ out too long. Says it ain’t safe for a lady bein’ alone in the night.” You explain, hoping that the mention of your daddy would keep him at bay.

“But you’re in the house of God with your priest. Ain’t nowhere safer than here, right?” He’s closer now, intense blue eyes trained on you and the smirk he sends your way brings a chill up your spine. You look away, not wanting him to see your dread, and focus on the white tab tucked underneath the collar of his black shirt.

“I hear you singin’ with ‘em kids—such a lovely voice you have.” You take his compliment but keep your guard up as you cradle your purse in your arms, keeping the bench between the two of you. “I want to hear it again. One of ‘em hymns for tomorrow’s mass.”

“I’d love to, Father, but—”

“You know, disobeying the will of the priest is equivalent to disobeying the will of God.” Your hand trembles with how he says those words, swallowing thickly as you try to calm your nerves. “You wouldn’t want that, do you? To disobey the Lord?”

You shake your head.

“Good girl.” The praise makes you feel nothing but disgust. “Now, why don’t you get back in that chair and start playing?”

And just like that, you do as you are told; setting down your purse on the side of the piano and taking your seat once more. Your spine tenses and your hands shake upon setting them over the keys when he goes to stand behind you, feeling the excess of his stomach brushing against your arm.

Just play, you tell yourself, and you hope then when you do, when you’ve done what is being asked of you, that he will leave you alone.

Ever since Father Bodecker - Lee as he likes to be addressed - arrived in your quaint town as the new priest, things for you have never been the same. The sense of trepidation never once came across your mind when you were first within his presence, but it soon blossomed, quite strongly, in your opinion, when you saw the way he looked at you each time you stayed behind to practice the songs for the mass. 

How his hands would mindlessly touch you, innocently from the outside looking in, but you know to yourself that they’re beyond appropriate especially for a woman as yourself and even more for the man of God. His lips utter words of vulgarity, ones you know someone of his profession should never say.

But what had you fearing his presence was once, before Sunday mass, while you were practicing the psalms on the podium, you saw him enter from your periphery and stood behind you, too close for your liking. You thought he was simply curious about what you were reading but such thoughts ultimately vanished when he pressed his hands on the wooden surface of the stand and you felt something hard dig into your backside. 

You’d only ever escaped when one of the parish volunteers arrived earlier than expected and you heard the growl of disappointment that he emitted. Yet you know deep down that won’t be his last attempt, especially after seeing the determination in his sapphire eyes, a promise of a next time. 

As you reach the end of the song, you startled upon feeling his hands rest on your shoulders, his thumbs massaging your muscles and his warm breath scattering against your cheek.

“You play so beautifully, Sweetheart. Singin’ those praises like an angel.” He’s so close and you feel your heart pounding wildly against your chest, panic completely setting into your bones. “Why don’t you sing another praise—for me this time.”

“I’d love to, Father, but it is already getting late.” You tell him as you move to stand from your seat but his hands keep you firmly still and you gasp in shock when he leans you forward, pushing you against the keys that cry upon being pressed. “Father—what are you doing?” You ask frantically, eyes wide in fear as you struggle against his hold.

“I just want to hear that sweet voice of yours.” His voice is laced with darkness and your knees almost buckle when he pushes away the bench from underneath you, hand lifting the skirt of your dress. “I wonder what other sounds you can make, huh? I’m dyin’ to hear.”

You claw your fingers against the piano when you hear the sound of his zipper being undone, struggling much more to set yourself free. But you’re rendered helpless against a man his size, his feet pushing your own apart and a gasp wretches from your throat when in one swift move, he’s inside you—your walls stretching in pain from his girth.

Tears spill from your eyes as he moves his lips in a sadistic pace, each of his thrust sending you shivers of agony, making every second of his assault unbearable. His groans mix with the sound of ivory and your pleas for him to stop, Father Bodecker panting and mumbling a slew of curses when he continues to plunge, harder and faster, unrelenting of his sinful intent. 

You beg once more, your nails digging into your skin as you try to push him back, but such a gesture is futile—benefiting him further as it allows him to slide deeper into your core that begins to grow damp with each torturous second. 

He calls out your name in the flurry of notes, his hips moving erratically that you feel something foreign, something new, something forbidden pull at you from within. You grit your teeth and shut your eyes as you endure the sins he brandishes on your soul.

But all at once, he’s gone and you’re empty, the walls of your abused cunt clenching around nothing. A grunt is then pulled from your lips when you're effortlessly pushed onto your knees and you stare up at him in horror when he grabs the back of your head, keeping you in place.

That’s when you truly see the devil he truly is. He’s no man of God but a spawn of the underworld.

He groans once more, his cock stiff and throbbing in his hand as he strokes it once, twice, seeing his eyes shut tight with his face twisting in bliss and you’re shocked to your core when streaks of hot, white essence paint your face.  

Disbelief engulfs you, along with anger and shame—that he would do this to you and in the house of the Lord.

A dark laugh escapes him as he looks down on you, his hand cupping your cheek as he smears his seed on your face then tapping the tip of his cock against your lips.

“Blessed are you among women,” He quotes. “And blessed is the one who has shared the seed.”

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

A FRESH START [20]

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Warnings: description of injuries, language, spoilers for S3 The Mandalorian, mentions of death experiences, anxiety, PTSD references

Word Count: 5,066

Updates every Thursday

#20: SHORT STICK BEARS HIS WRATH

.

"you can't heal if you pretend you're not hurt." -aliza grace

.

Grogu had a habit of making friends wherever he went. So, it didn’t surprise Din to see that a bulk of Ari’s crew were gushing over his son and offering him different things to play with. After parking the N1 and walking to the address Ari messaged him, what looked like an old fighting gym, he entered to see a small group of people surrounding Grogu who stood on the table and babbled. They listened intently, cooed back to him, and offered him a variety of objects to either eat or play with.

Din’s eyes landed on Ari who was sitting in a desk chair, feet kicked up and ankles crossed, while frowning at the sight. When her gaze drifted toward him she blew out an annoyed breath of air. “Finally. Can you please take your son and go? It seems while he’s around my crew is,” Ari turned to yell out the next words at the people surrounding Grogu, “Incapable of doing their kriffing jobs!”

“The stressors of running a criminal empire.” Din snorted.

“Aw, you think my little show is an empire?” Ari grinned impishly. “That’s cute. I appreciate it, but I don’t think I’ve reached that level of notoriety yet.”

“Yeah, well, I have faith in you.”

Din knew her main skill set was in smuggling. He assumed that’s what she was still doing, just branching out and roping others in. Still, Din wasn’t too worried about breaking up her party or shining a spotlight down on her. Of all the evil Din had seen in the galaxy, Ari was harmless. Well, mostly harmless.

“Hey boss, can we keep it?” A large man turned and pointed to Grogu who had his hands up in the air as he babbled about a story.

“Him, you idiot.” Ari corrected. “It’s Mando’s son.”

“Oh, sorry.” The man replied. “Can we keep him?”

“See what I mean? Useless.” Ari scoffed. Din called out for Grogu who took the time to gather up all the snacks being offered to him then jumped into his pram to drift over. Ari crossed her arms and snapped for the others to get back to their jobs. They gradually drifted away. She looked at him. “So? How’s the doc?”

Din tilted his head. “Left him thirty minutes outside the city to crawl back.”

“That all?”

“I may have…” Din chose his words carefully. “Stacked the odds against him.” Ari chuckled in amusement and he nodded. “I need you to keep an eye on that for me.”

“How so?”

“Make sure there’s a corpse, and if there isn’t,” Din shrugged nonchalantly, “Make one.”

The request rolled off his tongue as if he were in Nevarro going to his neighbor’s house to ask for some sugar. Din saw no issue in his request. If he wasn’t on such a time crunch in his eagerness to return to you then he’d stick around and double check for himself. 

Ari nodded. “Alright. I’m counting that as two favors now though. So, you owe me.” Din dragged his helmeted gaze to look at her and raised an eyebrow in skepticism as if she’d be able to see. Ari read the tone enough to snicker. “Fine. Fine. We’re even then.”

“Deal.”

“So,” Ari whistled, “If you and your ‘not wife’ ever tie the knot will I get invited to the wedding? Do Mandalorians have weddings?” 

“Stop talking.” Din shook his head and turned to leave. He chuckled under his breath. Grogu followed after him⏤ the child’s cheeks full of some local dessert. Great, now he’d be bouncing around the cockpit of the N1 for Maker knows how long.

Ari called a good-bye after him as he left. “Nice seeing you too, Mando! Safe travels!”

Nima told you not to freak out. Her exact words had been, ‘Alright, everything is okay and you are safe and it’s all going to be fine but you need to know this’. Your first horrific thought was that the news would somehow involve your boys. It had been a knee jerk fear that filled your entire soul with dread. Then Nima followed it up with, ‘Kurt’s trial was put on hold’.

And, as wild as it was, you felt relief. That had been your initial reaction. Before Nevarro, hearing those words would have made you immediately throw up. But in this situation, all you could think was how grateful you were that the bad news didn’t involve Din or Grogu.

“I’m sorry.” Nima murmured and you could see how devastated she was to share this news with you. She was the kind of person who felt every emotion she had so deeply. It’s why she was so lively and bubbly as her day to day happiness shined through. However, in moments like this, it broke your heart to see her so empathetic to your own pain. “I went back and forth on telling you, but you made me swear to update you on any news I thought was important and this seemed important. Plus, I didn’t want you to hear on accident from somewhere else or⏤”

“Nima.” You reached out to squeeze her arm and gave her a smile. “It’s okay. Thank you for telling me.” The longer the news lingered in your mind the more it began to unravel your sense of peace. “What happened? Do we know why?”

She shook her head. “They won’t report it yet. Just that it’s delayed.”

Could trials be delayed right in the middle of it? You didn’t know a lot about law or the system surrounding it. Nima was rambling about something or another, trying to bring you comfort, but your thoughts drifted away. You wished Din were here. That wasn’t a surprising thought. Every single day since they left, multiple times a day really, you’d see something or think of something that made you crave their presence more than the baseline. Just yesterday you bought a bag of Grogu’s favorite blue cookies from the sandwich shop just for the hell of it. 

You heard your name, mumbled in concern, and your focus snapped back to Nima who was staring at you as if she was waiting for you to crumble. Slowly, you could feel the edges of your nerves beginning to fray, but that’s what work was for right? Distract you from all those dangerous thoughts and fears.

“Seriously. I am okay.” You reassured her once more. “This stays between us, right?”

“Of course.”

Your day carried on as if the news hadn't been shared with you. It would be the one day you wanted to keep busy that all of Nevarro decided to be the picture perfect definition of health. It was in part due to the droid being repaired which took off a lot of lower level urgent cases rather than emergent and it even saw some people with active conditions routinely. That would be it's primary purpose until the new guy that Karga hired eventually got out here.

When you went home for the night, you had only been moving around the kitchen for a few minutes, getting dinner ready, when your com rang for a holocall. You set your armband on the island counter to stand and answer. Grogu’s face immediately filled the entire screen with a loud ‘Ma!’ which pulled a laugh out of you. You needed that. 

“Grogu, share.” Din replied though you could only barely see him behind Grogu’s face.

“No.” Grogu replied simply before he began to babble about his day. He was getting better at expressing himself every day and you were picking up on words like ‘new friends’, ‘more food’, and even something that sounded like he was trying to tell you there was someone he didn’t like. Din sighed loudly, but you could hear the amusement in his tone.

“Uh huh.” You nodded your head, giving the little green boy your full attention, “Tell Ma all about it, baby.” It wasn’t until a solid five to ten minutes later that Grogu was appeased with the amount of attention from you that he was willing to share with his father. He wiggled out of the camera’s space so you could actually see Din, and the boy waved with a quick ‘Love Ma!’. You actually felt your heart tighten in your chest. “Love you too, baby.”

Grogu crawled away, probably to stir up trouble where he could find it on the small ship, and you bit back tears. The longer you sat with the news about Kurt the more you felt wired and anxious. Getting to talk to Grogu and see the cheerful boy made a world of difference.

“Mama’s boy.” You heard Din mutter with a chuckle while watching Grogu crawl away to wherever he went. His gaze quickly focused back on you and he let out a soft sigh. “Ner kar’ta. How was your day?”

“It was fine.” You leaned against the counter.

For the next half hour, you and Din talked about anything and everything. He told you about how the rest of his trip on that Outer Rim planet went, and he told you he dealt with Daelar. Din didn’t give you details on the specific, but you found that you didn’t really need them. You didn’t really care. Then you told him about your day, but gradually the two of you got off topic and trailed on about other things. Din was speaking, you could hear the sound of his comforting voice, but you found yourself accidentally zoning out. Your mind not falling into a specific thought, but just drifting away. It wasn’t until the third time that Din called out to you that you realized he had been doing so in the first place.

“Hm? Sorry.” You shook your head.

Even through a holocall, halfway across the galaxy, you could see the worry that Din wore. He had shifted forward in his seat, elbows on his knees, and there was a tension in his shoulders. If that didn’t give him away then the tilt in his head and the tone of his voice did. “What’s wrong? You’re troubled.” He didn’t ask if you were troubled. He just knew you were. “Tell me. Are you okay?”

“I am. I promise.” You replied. The last thing you wanted to do was worry him. Knowing Din, if you told him about Kurt he would do something drastic like immediately come back to Nevarro. Which, on one hand, was tempting, but it would just mean he’d need to leave again. Plus, you knew how important this mission was to him. You were not going to intercede with your own issues and drama. So, you decided on a lie of omission. “This afternoon there had been a patient with a chronic illness I didn’t remember much of. He was also Rodian and their anatomy is a blur to me. So, it was a lot of research and just working on the fly and I guess my brain just won’t let it go. I’m second guessing myself.”

Din’s entire body relaxed, but he stayed leaned over so he was closer to the camera⏤ closer to you. “Don’t. You’re incredible at what you do and immensely clever when you need to think on the spot.” You felt your cheeks warm at his blatant complements. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re the greatest physician in the galaxy.”

You snorted. “Right. And that’s your totally unbiased opinion.” Din nodded. “All that medical knowledge you have makes you an expert in that decision.”

“I have twenty plus years of working a cautery, thank you.” Din replied with a chuckle.

“Yes. Obviously, so qualified.”

“Fine.” Din’s voice took a teasing edge. “You’re the best physician in all of Nevarro. Is that better?”

You let out a loud laugh and just as it had eased your anxious heart with Grogu, Din settled your soul as well.  Din was immensely proud of himself. You could see the smug air about him even through the holocall. When your laughter died down, you rested your chin on your hand to hold up your head.

“I miss you.” You mumbled.

Din sighed. “I miss you too, ner kar’ta. But it won’t be much longer.” You perked up. “I am stopping to speak to an…old friend.” The way he said the words made you doubt that this person was an actual friend⏤ or that the relationship was tumultuous at best. “Then on to Mandalore.”

A soft smile filled your features at the news. 

“Ma! Ma!” Grogu was yelling again as he tried to get into the picture.

Din scooped the boy up to set him on his laugh and playfully scolded. “You had your turn, ad’ika. It’s my turn with Ma.”

“No. Me.” Grogu argued.

You watched in amusement as Din continued to tease Grogu into a silly argument on who got to have your attention. Maker, you needed them back soon.

Ever since Nima shared the news about Kurt, nightmares plagued you. It was an odd mix of past and future. Some nights Kurt would be carving into you, telling you that you didn’t deserve to live, and other nights you’d have to watch helplessly as he hurt Din and Grogu.

You preferred the nights where Kurt made you bleed.

That added to the fact that while on Mandalore Din was not going to be able to call you due to interference really distracted you. Sleep deprived and anxiety riddled while working in a clinic with medical tools was not the ideal combination. The bacta tank needed refreshing in case of emergencies and during a quiet moment in the office you had told Aayla you planned to get it done. It was dirty work, cleaning the bacta filters, but you didn’t mind it. You hoped forward motion, keeping yourself busy, would keep you awake and sane.

So, when your hand slipped on the mechanism, causing the thick filter door to slam shut on your hand, it had been entirely your own fault.

"Fuck!" You screamed in agony as you felt the bones in your fingers snap. Blinded by the panic, your natural instinct was to try to pull your hand out, but the door was closed too tight for it to budge. All it did was send sharp, lightning strikes of pain shooting up your arm.

Aayla was by your side in an instant and she was shouting commands or reassurances at you, but your mind was in a fog. Maybe it was the pain or the exhaustion, but your body slumped forward onto the bacta tank as your vision went black.

It came back seconds later, but you didn’t feel the same. Rather than pain, you felt the telltale sign of something running through your veins to bring you relief. You were also now lying on a cot rather than standing over the bacta tank.

“What are we supposed to do when the doctor needs a doctor?” Mayfeld scoffed. You couldn't see him from where you laid, but his voice was easily recognizable. So was Vanth’s who replied.

“Use the droid.”

“The droid? That’s your solution? Let the kriffing droid work on the woman Mando is head over heels for?” Mayfeld cried. “He’s better about the damn things, but if he heard about this he’d come back to Nevarro just to kill us. Then he’d somehow save our asses from the brink of death just so he can kill us again.” 

You groaned and all your words came out groggily, “Stop talking. Both of you.” There was the sound of steps and suddenly it was Vanth’s face in your vision grinning down at you. “Why are you in here again?”

“Well, because the doc went and got her hand jammed up in some machinery.” Vanth replied. His words reminded you of the injury and you lifted your left hand to see a splint wrapped around your last three fingers. The ring finger was the worst, but all three were discolored and swollen. Vanth’s teasing tone switched to sincerity. “How’re you feeling, little lady?”

“Drugged.” You complained and rubbed your face with your good hand. The lack of pain was nice, but you hated how certain strong medications could make you feel.

“Yeah,” Mayfeld chimed, “That’s the e-bacta shot we gave you.”

“E-bacta??” You scoffed. “Where the hell did you get the e-bacta and why did you bring it into my clinic? That shit is illegal for a reason.” This version of bacta was so potent and strong that it was only one step down from spice, really. Addictive as hell and hard to keep from degrading. “Why did you do that?”

Vanth pointed at your broken hand. “Because that looks kriffing miserable. We’d put you in the tank altogether just to be cautious but we had to break the damn thing to get you unlodged from it.”

“Shit.” You forced yourself to sit up and the room spun. Both men reached out to steady you. “The tank is broken??”

Mayfeld snorted. “Yeah, and so is your hand. Focus on that instead.”

You rubbed your face in a poor attempt to gain some clarity. “Please tell me no one told Mando.”

Maybe he’d still be on Mandalore and there’d be no service for someone to tell him you got hurt. This was just like a few days ago when you learned about Kurt. You couldn’t make Din worry. He needed to focus on his own task and not be thinking about you.

“Told Mando?” Mayfeld cried. “Nobody wants to make the call and tell the indestructible tin can that we let his girl get hurt.”

Vanth shrugged. “We were gonna draw straws later. Us, Karga, Nima, Peli. Short stick has to bear his wrath.” He grinned at you. “But now that you’re up and talking, little lady, looks like we don’t need to do that.”

Mayfeld nodded and pointed at the man. “Yeah, good point. She should tell him. He won’t kill her.”

“Either stop talking or give me more e-bacta.” You grumbled.

Ignoring the well meaning but overbearing men, you cradled your broken hand in your lap. The splint on your hand was decent. You’d need something more permanent, but for a patch job it was solid. The sound of doors sliding open made you glance up to see Aayla fluttering in. She put her hands on her hips with a solid attempt of intimidation.

“I already chased out Nima. Now you two, as well?” 

The men glanced at you and you tilted your head and added. “Go. Don’t tell Mando.” As they neared the door you called out one last time. “And…thanks, guys.”

You did appreciate them and how much they cared. Even if some of that caring just came from a healthy fear of Din. Not that you thought Din would actually hurt either man. They were friends and this had very clearly been your fault.

“Did you do this?” You pointed to your hand and Aayla nodded with a sheepish grin. “It’s good. It’s really good, Aayla.” The woman beamed at your praise and you chuckled. “Did you get any scans yet?”

“Yes. We did.” She brought over a datapad and opened up the program that held all the imaging. You took it from her to look over your own scans and winced. Dank farrik. Hairline fractures on your pinky and middle finger, and an actual break in your ring finger. No wonder you blacked out. “Do we need to get you to a facility? Does your finger need surgical correction?”

You praised her line of thought then shook her head. “The fracture will heal itself once splinted. In order to test the tendons I need the swelling to go down just a bit so I can try moving my finger.”

Aayla stepped away and then returned with a cream and some ice. She got you situated on the cot and lifted the bed so you could lay back without being entirely flat. She was going to be a good doctor one day. After she went through school and all that. You leaned your head against the pillow and shut your eyes. It would be best for you to get some solid shut eye while the e-bacta was in your system. 

Since reaching Mandalore, everything had happened fast. Back to back to back, Din had what should have been considered one of the worst days of his life. Nearly dying three times qualified as a terrible day. However, Din was not dead. More than just not dead, he was redeemed. 

Din Djarin was no longer an Apostate.

He was Mandalorian once more.

That alone could make this a wonderful day, but the knowledge that this meant he could proceed in pursuing you was overwhelming. If he thought about it for too long it’d send him to his knees. The first thing he wanted to do was call you, but that plan was derailed when Imps bombed Bo Katan’s home. Considering the woman had saved his life, and watched Grogu when he was unable, the least he could do was get her to safety. Maybe the covert wasn’t the best place for Bo Katan Kryze, but Din needed to go there anyway so why not use it as a shelter.

As Nima liked to say: two porgs, one blaster.

When everything had settled, the first thing he did was find a quiet spot to call you. Grogu was passed out in his arms and Bo Katan was sitting not too far away in contemplation.

“You alright?” Din questioned.

Bo hummed. “Suppose so. Not how I expected this day to go, but…”

“I’m sorry. About your home.” 

“...Thank you.” Bo said after a beat of hesitation.

Din could tell she was still in distress. Lost in her thoughts. He could’ve pressed further, attempt to help her some more, but it would have to wait. If Din didn’t talk to you right now he’d burst. The excitement of being redeemed mingled with the knowledge that for a brief moment today he thought everything had been over. 

He activated the holocall and leaned against the cave wall. 

When your face appeared on the screen, Din sighed in relief. Being trapped on Mandalore, sending Grogu away, your face had been the last one he thought of. “Ner kar’ta.” He breathed out. Din didn’t even care that Bo was only a few feet away and able to hear his entire conversation. “You are…”

He was going to call her a sight for sore eyes, but you looked more than exhausted. Something was wrong. Your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes and you didn’t have that same glow that Din admired. Before he could question, you spoke, “You can call! That means you’re not on Mandalore anymore, right? How’d it go?”

“I am redeemed.” Din said with pride and despite how tired you look the smile you wore brightened in excitement. You cried out about how happy you were for him and how proud and how much you missed him and couldn’t wait to see him. Hearing that praise from you was somehow better than hearing the Armorer confirm he was no longer an Apostate. Din shook his head, deciding to steer right back to his concern, “You look terrible, ner kar’ta.”

You forced a chuckle. “Exactly what a girl wants to hear.”

“You are the most stunning woman I have ever known, and every day I get to see you, bask in your beauty,  is a blessing I am undeserving of.” Din said sincerely and he watched your face twist in mild embarrassment. Your smile turning cute and sheepish. He grew serious once more. “But right now, you look ill. Hurt. So I will ask again," Din shook his head, "What. Is. Going. On?”

You twisted your lips, weighing pros and cons, and then with a sigh you lifted your right hand so it came into the screen’s view. Din’s eyes widened at the swollen and discolored look of your fingers wrapped in a makeshift split. 

“Me’bana!? Cuyir gar o'r aaray??” Din barked. Grogu stirred briefly in his arms. “Pehea rucuyir gar shupur'yc!?”

“I don’t speak Mando’a, honey.” You sighed with a small amused smile.

If Din wasn’t so caught off guard and worried about the state of your hand, the nickname that fell from your lips so easily would have made him flush in warmth. Din shook his head. “Are you alright?? What happened?”

“It was stupid.” You shook your head. “Cleaning the bacta tank, I slipped up. Got my hand caught in the filter door.” That wasn’t like you. Typically, you were very cautious and careful with your work. “It looks worse than it actually is, I swear. The swelling has gone down a lot.”

Din narrowed his eyes at your wording. “How much time has passed? When did this happen, ner kar’ta?”

“...Yesterday?” You said it like it was a question.

“Ner kar’ta.”

“Yesterday morning.” You confirmed sheepishly.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You were on Mandalore. No service.”

Din tilted his head, “You tried to hide it at the start of this conversation. If I didn’t press, would you have told me about your accident?” You pressed your lips together and winced. Din blew out a breath of air. “Dank farrik. Ner kar’ta…” 

“I didn’t want to worry you.” You said softly with a frown.

Din shook his head again, keeping his voice firm. “I need to know these things.” The thought that you were injured was staggering, but knowing you could be hurt and keep it from him? All he wanted in life was to protect you. Take care of you. “You need to tell me⏤”

“Why?” Bo suddenly called out loud enough that your face morphed into confusion at the sound of an unfamiliar voice. “Did you tell her about how you nearly died three times today?”

Din flinched and your jaw popped open. The exhaustion seemed to be wiped away and replaced with a mix of anger and shock. “You what!?” Din began to speak but you cut him off. “You nearly died today!? Din! What the hell is the mystery voice talking about!?”

“Well, it wasn’t⏤”

“You were gonna scold me about my broken hand and not mention multiple near death experiences??” Din winced. That was a fair point. He didn’t see it from that side. The sight of your discolored and swollen digits had blinded him about every other detail of the day. “Din Djarin⏤ Do you have a middle name? I want to yell your entire name at you but⏤ never mind. Just⏤ Maker! Are you alright? Are you safe? Is Grogu⏤”

Din cut in, “Yes. To all of it. Grogu is safe,” He lifted his arm enough that she could see the snoozing boy, “I am safe, I am okay. In fact, I am less injured than you are right now.” He sighed. “And, you’re right. That wasn’t fair of me. I just… I panicked.”

Your gaze softened but the concern remained. “Yeah. I guess… As long as you guys are safe.”

“We are, and we’ll be home soon.” Din promised. Your lips twitched up into a smile. “Who is taking care of you right now?”

You chuckled. “Uh, me?”

Din hummed in displeasure. He should be there to help you⏤ to take care of you. It killed him to be this far from you. A part of him wanted to stand up right now and fly home, but he needed to talk to the Armorer tomorrow. He needed to have something forged.

“Maybe you should stay with Nima…”

“I can take care of myself, Din.” You grinned. “I’m the greatest doctor in the galaxy, remember?” Din chuckled under his breath. “You really are okay, though?”

Din nodded. “I swear to you, ner kar’ta.”

They only spoke for a few more moments because Din was adamant you go to bed even though it wasn’t very late in Nevarro. You just looked so exhausted. Maybe he’d talk to Karga about a vacation. If they got the new physician to move to Nevarro then the city could afford to spare you for a few days. Vanth could stay a little while longer to cover for him. Din just wanted to take you somewhere nice⏤ somewhere relaxing. Though he should probably focus on actually courting you before he starts thinking of honeymoon options.

When the holocall ended, Din glanced over at Bo who simply tilted her head at him. He scoffed, “Really?”

“Seemed like pertinent information.”

“Your hand still looks like shit.”

You glanced up at Nima with a tight lipped smile. “A little rude considering I saved your hand.” She snickered. She wasn’t wrong. The swelling had improved but the bruising still looked Maker awful. Though, with Aayla’s help you were able to get a real splint on it. “I thought you were bringing me lunch.”

“I thought you were going to come with me to lunch.” She argued.

Luckily, the clinic wasn’t busy. So you shrugged out of your white coat, leaving you in just your scrubs, and then followed Nima who was leading the way with a bounce. There had been no further news on the Kurt situation which left you in turmoil. However, Nima had been doing her best to distract you and anytime anxiety did try to wash over you, you just reminded yourself that your boys would be home in the next 48 hours or so. 

“The Razor Crest project is going so well.” Nima clapped her hands. “I mean, we’re still missing some key pieces, but Peli and I are nearly done with the engine rebuild. Can you believe that?” You hummed in interest. It’d be nice to see it eventually. The Crest was such a strong presence in so many of Din’s story and Grogu’s pictures. Obviously, this wasn’t the exact same. Version 2.0, but still. “Peli said⏤”

The sound of a low rumble filled the air. As you, Nima, and all the other citizens standing outside paused to listen to the sound, a large shade began to cover the city. As if the sun was being blocked out. You looked up and your eyes widened at the sight of a huge ship.

“Shit. That’s a Corsair.” Nima mumbled in shock. Just as the words left her mouth, an alarm began to blare loudly and the voice of a droid called for evacuation to the lava fields. You didn't even have a spare second to panic because that’s when blaster fire rained down on Nevarro.

mando'a translations

ner kar'ata: my heart Me'bana?: What happened? Cuyir gar o'r aaray?: Are you in pain? Pehea rucuyir gar shupur'yc?: How were you injuried?

taglist:

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[llama529orange]

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3

•Since that first day you and Riddle played together in the secret garden, it had become a cherished routine. Every time Riddle came over for "study time," the two of you would sneak away to the garden, playing with the little hedgehog and laughing together. You cherished those moments, and you knew that Riddle did too. You could feel the soul of the true antagonist reveling in the joy of playing with Riddle, her laughter mingling with yours in a way that made you smile.

•But you knew that playtime alone wasn’t enough for Riddle. He would need more friends—ones who could help him in ways you couldn’t. You recalled Trey and Chenya, his future friends in the manhwa, and how important they would be in his life. You hoped to help them meet sooner, especially now, while Riddle was still young and his heart open to friendship.

•After one of your “study” sessions, you watched Riddle with fondness as he left your home, his smile still lingering on your mind. You couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread knowing that your parents would eventually break off your engagement with Riddle, favoring your younger sister, the FL, instead. You knew they only cared about their status and making themselves look good to the Queen, and they would use any excuse to replace you, the "unwanted" child, with your sister, whom they saw as more suitable.

•The thought of what would happen after weighed heavily on you. If the engagement ended, you would be sent away, far from Riddle and everything you had worked so hard to build. Worse still, you feared how Riddle would react—betrayed, confused, and left to face his future alone. His path would once again lead him to tyranny and, eventually, to his downfall.

•Determined to change his fate, you realized that the next study session should take place at Riddle’s home. It was risky; you knew the Queen kept a tight grip on Riddle’s life, and you would need to plan carefully to ensure she didn’t find out. If she did, she would never leave Riddle alone, not even with you, and everything you were trying to do would be for nothing.

•Lying on your bed, you stared at the ceiling, mind racing with ideas. You needed a plan, a way to help Riddle meet Trey and Chenya naturally and still keep him safe from his mother’s overbearing presence. As you thought, a strange feeling crept up on you. When did you start to care about Riddle so much? He was your favorite character, yes, but a character nothing more. Yet, the more time you spent with him, the more you saw his laughter, his joy, and the flickers of freedom in his eyes, the more real he became to you. He wasn’t just a character anymore; he was your friend, someone you wanted to protect.

•You weren’t just helping yourself anymore—you were helping Riddle, too. And that was enough. You made up your mind. No matter what it took, you would give Riddle the future he deserved, free from his mother’s control and the tragedy that awaited him. The first step was getting him to meet Trey and Chenya, and you would make sure it happened. This was your promise, to Riddle and to the soul that had longed for love and freedom. And you were determined not to fail.

The next day unfolded just as you expected. Your parents, obsessed with their image and always preoccupied with your sister, left on another trip, leaving you under the care of the maids and butlers. You took advantage of their absence, quickly writing a letter to Riddle, suggesting that you have your next study session at his royal home. You knew that Riddle’s mother, the Queen, would likely approve—anything to keep Riddle closer to his strict schedule.

•To your relief, the approval came quickly, and you found yourself at Riddle's lavish home, sitting across from him in the study. But as always, studying was the last thing on either of your minds. The moment you saw him, you couldn’t help but run to hug him tightly, the affection genuine and pure.

•"Riddle!" you exclaimed with a bright smile, squeezing him as if you hadn’t seen him in ages.

•Riddle, though flustered by the sudden hug, returned it warmly, a light blush dusting his cheeks. "Rosie!" he replied, using the affectionate nickname he had for you. The true antagonist within you—the soul that lingered—seemed to blush and giggle too, basking in the affection that they had always longed for.

•Breaking away from the hug, Riddle’s eyes sparkled with the excitement that came naturally whenever you were together. "Rosie, what are we going to play this time?" he asked eagerly, looking forward to your usual fun escapades.

•You grinned, loving how eager he had become for these moments of freedom. "How about we go outside to play?" you suggested, just as you always did, knowing the fresh air and space to run around would do him good. Before Riddle could respond, a loud thud hit the window, causing you both to turn your heads in surprise. Riddle rushed to open it, revealing two boys playing outside—Trey and Chenya, just as you had anticipated.

•Trey, with his kind eyes and gentle demeanor, and Chenya, the mischievous and lively one, were just as you remembered them from the manhwa. The two boys were equally shocked to see Riddle peering out of the window, their expressions quickly shifting to excitement.

•"Hey!" Chenya called out, grinning widely. "Wanna come play with us?" Trey nodded in agreement, adding a polite smile. You watched the scene unfold with a sense of familiarity, knowing this was how Riddle would meet his first real friends. There was only one difference now—you were there too.

•You looked at Riddle, seeing the hesitance in his eyes, but also the unmistakable glimmer of hope and curiosity. "Come on, Riddle," you encouraged, reaching out to hold his hand reassuringly. "Let’s play with them!"

•Riddle hesitated for a moment, but the sparkle in his eyes grew, just like when you first met. You could see the longing for connection and fun in him, something he was finally allowing himself to feel. He gave you a determined nod, his smile returning as he squeezed your hand. "Alright, Rosie!" he agreed, his excitement bubbling over as he followed your lead.

•With a shared burst of laughter, you and Riddle jumped out of the window, landing on the soft grass below. Trey and Chenya cheered as you joined them, the four of you running off to play together. You played games, chased each other, and for the first time, Riddle experienced what it was like to have real friends who wanted to be with him for who he was, not for his title or perfection.

•As you played, you could feel the true antagonist’s soul within you watching with joy, finally experiencing the warmth of friendship and love. You had succeeded in making a difference in Riddle’s life, one small step at a time. And as the four of you laughed and played, you knew this was just the beginning of changing Riddle’s fate and perhaps your own as well.