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xnova239x · 14 days ago

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I feel like I’ve been writing essays in my latest posts, haha.

Here are my thoughts and ramblings on Solas and Solavellan:

I’m in bits… I cannot watch that scene again without breaking out into gut-wrenching sobs.

I found that to be a perfect reunion.

I was not expecting a horny, ass-grabbing, “Fade tongue” passionate make out sesh. Nor did I want one, honestly, after seeing what Solas was going through all game.

After what Lavellan was dealing with all game.

The South was being utterly ravaged by Blight. Orlais, Fereldan, the Free Marches… all of it wrecked… possibly even fallen entirely. Lavellan, despite being the leader of a disbanded Inquisition in my game, was trying her hardest to bolster defenses, protect the innocent and fight the war down there. While also wrestling with her, obviously still raw, heartbreak and love for the Dread Wolf.

In Veilguard, Solas is absolutely not the one we knew in Inquisition. Here, he has fully accepted the role of villain and mantle of the Dread Wolf. He is not the thoughtful, wise apostate who sometimes sets his coat tails alight, plays mental 4D chess with Iron Bull, trolls the hell out of Sera, debates philosophy with Cassandra and is the passionate, suave, smooth flirt with Lavellan.

No.

Here, he is Wisdom… corrupted.

He is Pride.

He is a Pride demon, for the majority of the game. Using clever half-truths, trickery, lies and omissions to get what he wants.

(You can really see this in the “Fight him” ending where I’ve heard some are saying he’s OOC. He calls himself a God, when that is something he has been adamant he is not up until this point. But, in this ending… he is demonic in nature. Pride has completely overtaken him. You haven’t made an attempt to help/understand him. Therefore, you are standing in his way. He has no respect for you now. He has that “You can’t beat me!” attitude. He’s furious when he is, in fact, outsmarted and beaten. His eyes glow… screams that you are short-lived, implies he is better than you and that he is a God, compared to you. Not at all out of character for a demonic creature.)

(To be honest, I was kind of reminded of the Mage Origin/Harrowing from DAO when we interacted with him and when our companions etc ask “But can we trust him?”. Rook can be like “Obviously not” or “Yeah… for this thing… but he will stab us in the back”)

He tells Rook just enough to spark their interest, to keep them working with him…

As only he can fix the world. Only he can defeat Elgar’nan.

Yet, he is completely and utterly strangled by his Regrets and Guilt. Guilt for ruining the Elvhen world by, actually, trying to save it… guilt for being unable to convince Mythal to stay with him, ultimately leading to her murder…

Mythal, essentially, created him. I kinda view their whole dynamic as something akin to Witch and Familiar.

She had taken a body first. Solas began existence as Wisdom. He was her companion spirit. I always wondered why he is almost always depicted in his Dread Wolf form in Elvhen statues and mosaics… not his Elvhen one. Familiars usually take an animal form, guide and protect their bonded witch/mage, pass on advice and wisdom and help with their magic. I get the impression this was the beginning of their relationship: he was her guide… her protector. His statues were always surrounding hers in a guardian-like position. I don’t necessarily see Solas and Mythal as romantic, per se. The Elvhen began as spirits. Beings of pure and raw emotion. Maybe Solas did have some sort of infatuation with her… but I think it more of a twisted reverence. He worshipped her, in his own way. He had such a deep bond with her… beyond mere love and friendship. He was in her service.

A willing slave is no less a slave.

This bond is all that’s left to drive this twisted sense of duty he has all game.

He could have argued that this world was a dream - it wasn’t real. But… he’s lived in this world for years… and grew to, at the very least, enjoy it in some ways. He developed friendships… and, depending on your world state, fell in love with a mortal woman. He didn’t mean to, but he did. He doesn’t want to destroy it. It means something to him.

But this duty to “restore the ancient world”… it’s too deeply embedded within him. He’s a former spirit. He needs to follow his purpose.

Which had been warped from his original one so badly by Mythal. She even says this.

I pulled you from the Fade you loved and sent you into war. I used your Wisdom as a weapon… and it broke you…

He is broken. He is not himself… not really. Every choice he has made to this point is in service to this duty.

It takes Past, Present and Future to break this notion in him.

Past: Mythal. She needs to release him from this slave-like behaviour; this extremely powerful sense of duty to her. He needs to hear from her that everything was not all his fault. They fucked things up together. He shouldn’t bear all of that on his own.

Present: Rook. The one person all game that can constantly call him out on his bullshit. The person that reminds him of his younger self (I suppose I was not so different…)… if that younger self was able to accept and reflect on his mistakes and accept the consequences of his actions. For all Solas’ talk… he cannot accept the consequences of what he has done. His whole purpose is to change it. Undo it. Not live with it.

Future: Lavellan. His love. His heart. Vhenan. She represents what he truly wants. He wanted to live his life with her. To forget everything and be with her as Solas. Her forgiveness and reassurance that her love for him is still strong… helps him stand tall and accept what he must do now. She wants him and will follow him. She will no longer let him chase her away. She wants to support him… love him as the person he is… not make him into something he’s not. He no longer has to be alone. They will face whatever terrible things lie beyond the Veil together.

It’s something Emmrich says in a quest of his that puts a fair bit of meaning into why Solas finds himself so attached to Lavellan.

Spirits are not things to be disposed of. They’re so susceptible to the world’s whims, Rook. Some spirits are dangerous. But, how quickly most respond to a bit of kindness, or care… or simple attempt to understand…

Tell me that is not how Solas responds to your Inquisitor throughout Inquisition if you actually listen to him, ask him questions and make an attempt to understand his point of view. Lavellan does exactly this. She allows him to be more himself. Impart Wisdom… become Wisdom, not Pride.

She does not warp him. She stabilises him.

He no longer has to fear dying alone. For he will no longer be alone. He has his Vhenan. His home. His future. Wherever it takes them.

#dragon age #dragon age: the veilguard #dragon age the veilguard #dragon age: the veilguard spoilers #dragon age the veilguard spoilers #da4 spoilers #datv spoilers #da4 #datv #solas #solavellan

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decayedgloria · 1 year ago

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request!!

(wlw)

arlecchino fucking reader with her dick after getting jealous that reader was talking to childe too much. if you could make it size kink and possessive that would be nice!

ty!

use your words

ft. Arlecchino

A lil drabble for you :)

Tags: Afab!reader, wlw, strap fucking, dom!Arlecchino, size kink, slight degradation, possessive arlecchino and oblivious reader, nsfw under cut, mdni

In your defense, you had always been on the more extroverted side- it seemed as though you could talk your head off to just about any and everything, even your superiors, apparently.

You whined in desperation as Arlecchino dug her nails into your hips, no doubt leaving behind sharp indentations as she slowly moved her strap in and out of your gaping hole, never truly sating your desire to finally cum. With your arched back and plump ass right against her, Arlecchino grinned wickedly at the beautiful sight before her.

"That's right, love..." She whispered huskily, leaning over to place her lips right next to your ears, warm breath fanning over your face. "Only I can make you feel this good. Do you think that brat Tartaglia can do this to you?" You shook your head feebly, rolling your hips against hers in order to have some sort of relief, but to no avail. She only tsked in annoyance, bringing a hand against your ass for what seemed like the nth time that night.

"You were so eager to use your words with him. Why not use them now?" Suddenly, you were pulled into a fast and deep pace by Arlecchino, her hips snapping against yours in a feverish frenzy as you gasp and moan in surprise, though no actual words came out of your fucked out mouth- only praises for her.

"S'good...! You make m'feel so- ngh!" It was as if your mind had been overtaken by the exhilarating pleasure and pain all at once, with the only sensation you could properly feel being the way that her cock seemed to stretch your gummy walls even more than it usually did. You try to bury your head in the mattress below you, but Arlecchino's hand firmly held you back by the neck, hissing once more in your ear as she lets out a few grunts of her own.

"Don't even think about silencing yourself. I want to hear you scream on my cock. Let everyone know what a filthy slut you are for my cock." She growls, her sharp tone hungry for your voice as she slowly, but surely splits you open.

All you could do was sob and babble, tears streaming down your face as you try to form a coherent sentence for her, the knot in your lower abdomen growing tenser and tenser.

Earlier that day, Childe had asked you to keep him company at a tavern not far from the camp you were situated in. As his good friend, you decided to tag along; whether or not it was the alcohol that made your oblivious to his lingering touches or hungry gaze, Arlecchino cared not.

She only wished to punish you for even speaking to him.

Her teeth dragged across your body as she left all kinds of marks on your skin, like a grotesque artist painting their flesh canvas with blood. Much of your back was left with large, dark love bites and the occasional bite mark as she staked her claim over every inch of you- from your chest, to your stomach, to your thighs; all covered in her marks.

She relished in the way you writhed underneath her, pleasure clouding your mind and making you utterly helpless, taking her in your tight little hole like the good cockslut you were. Archons, your entire, sinful being would be the end of her.

"Go on, cum for me." Arlecchino said breathlessly before tilting your head and pulling you in for a hungry kiss. You moaned into her mouth as you finally reached your orgasm, arching your back even more and trembling slightly. You rode out your orgasm on her strap, almost collapsing from how worn out you were, finally becoming aware of just how much sweat and spit you accumulated throughout the night.

And judging by the way Arlecchino pulled out of your gaping hole, only to push you against the mattress on your back and slinging your legs over her shoulders, it was far from over.

Perhaps you should talk to Childe more often.

A/n: wooooooo i hope you liked this anon this was really fun to write, but it is my first time writing smut like this so i apologize if i was lacking lol

#genshin impact #genshin imagines #genshin headcanons #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #arlecchino smut #arlecchino x reader #genshin arlecchino #afab reader

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diejager · 9 months ago

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Alright so reader ends up pregnant, mom thinks it's horangis kid, reader moves in with him and we have the whole nursery situation

What happens next, like how will they treat her when she's 7 months pregnant? How will they deal with her cravings and stuff?

And what will happen when she gives birth and the baby's a carbon copy of konig? Will the mom be like "🧍‍♀️oh well that's interesting" or will horangi and Konig take reader away and disappear from the face of the earth? Or even worse, they make sure the mom's not gonna bother them anymore (yknow like ⚰️💀⚱️🪦)?

The whole story line is amazing btw and if I could, i would kiss your brain because of how amazing it is

I’m gonna expand on Baby Scenario since it’s almost the same principle. Cw: DARKFIC, DUB-CON/NON-CON, STEPCEST, kidnapping, forced pregnancy, childbirth, tell me if I missed any.

Your mother had adamantly encouraged you to move in with Horangi, it would only make sense, no? Since he was the father of your kid. You’d have more space from both her and your stepdad, and would be able to spend more time with Horangi, to build that intimacy and relationship that you’d need if you were to care for a child. You would have extra room for your stuff and a nursery fro your upcoming child in Horangi’s home since he lived alone, his ultilitarianlydecorated house was a perfect place to start building a warm home —a blank canvas coaxing you to paint.

You reluctantly agreed to her proposition, not having much of a choice when she was obliviously overcome with joy, König’s hard stare and Horangi’s tightening grip on your hip, low enough to make you uncomfortable but not too much that it was improper. The move was made quick, the sudden change of your environment left you disorientated, confused and lost while they carried box after box into the living room of your new house.

They hadn’t made a move on you since the test, leaving you alone to do your own things: fix your side of the room, paint and move furniture around the nursery when Horangi and König were busy with other things, or reading on the bean bag you moved near the window for better lighting. It made the move a bit better, neither feeling as oppressed as you felt nor as freeing as you used to be, but it worked nonetheless of your change of ownership. It, however, hadn’t last long, they were quick to lay a hand on you, their fingers kneading and wandering over your sensitive skin, moving you to the bed and leaving you mewling and panting from their mouth and fingers alone.

When your cravings knocked down the door with weird and changing tastes, both men were eager to help, buying or ordering whatever you’d cried about wanting even if you ended up throwing it away because you didn’t want it anymore. They were accommodating to your growing needs, at your every beck and call when you had a sudden craving or sickness. Your mother couldn’t be any happier about how it turned out, that you were with someone she could trust to care for you and not a boy who’d leave you the second he heard you were pregnant, she booked everything for you until the assumed date of birth.

But on when you gave birth, staring at a boy with auburn strands and brown eyes, and a girl with black locks and pale eyes, your mother looked as horrified as you were, much unlike Horangi and König’s pleased gaze. She fought with him, screamed her head off and tried to pry them away from you, to protect you from the men who forced themselves on you and knocked you up. You learned that she kicked König out, throwing all his items out and had tried to have them both removed and taken away from you, but there was little she could do against powerful men. Their names and reputation the blade of their defense, to use and to wield to take you away from her.

The last time you saw her, she was in tears, sobbing and fighting against someone’s arms, clawing her way towards you while you were pulled away and into a black SUV. They cut your contact with your mother and the rest of the world, keeping you in a locked box of their own making. You didn’t know what happened to your mother or how she was, you were completely cut off from anything than your penthouse. Your only physical contact was your kids and the men who called themselves your husbands, caring for Leon and Yoon-Suh and making sure they had food when they came home.

And it wouldn’t take long before they’d ask for another child.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @lucienbarkbark @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @223princess @maylovesyousomuch @infpt-zylith @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami

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pasukiyo · 2 years ago

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𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧 | tom riddle

tom riddle x f!reader 4,488 words warnings: smut. angst. allusions to murder. horcruxes. notes: takes place in 1946, around a year after graduating from hogwarts. summary: there has always been darkness in tom riddle. perhaps you were too blind to see it before. or maybe you’ve known all along, but never acknowledged it until it was too late.

“Tom! I… fuck! I… I love you!”

Tears streamed down the sides of her face and pooled on the pillow below as Tom gripped her hip with one hand and her shoulder with the other. His pace was brutal, inhumane almost and it made the headboard slam against the beige wall, her fingers grasping the sheets between them to anchor herself. Her cunt clenched and her walls tightened around him as she came for the second time already, and she sobbed into the pillow, bittersweet pleasure surging through her.

Tom groaned at her words, tugging her back against him by the grip he had on her hair, his lips right beside her ear. “Say it again,” he muttered, and she panted, chasing air back into her lungs. “Tell me you love me again.”

“I… I love you! I love you, I love you, iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou!”

With something not unlike a growl emitting from his lips, he pushed her back down into the mattress and grabbed both of her hips, throwing his head back when she tightened around him again. He could feel his rage as it began to slip away, all the things that have been on his mind all day slowly melting away, and all he could think about was her and how good she felt. All he wanted right now was to come, to unravel and release himself to her.

But a small voice in the back of his head made all his anger surge back into him all at once, and he seemed to pick up his pace again, as if he were digging another orgasm out of her.

“I’m sorry, Tom. But you are only eighteen. Much too young to be a professor if you ask me. But, if you are still up for it, come back to me in a few years time. After all, I’ve never seen a student more exceptional at Defense Against the Dark Arts than you.”

Tom narrowed his eyes at the small of her back as he fucked into her harder, as if it were even possible. He fucked her like he hated her, fucked her like she was his outlet and in a way, she was. Tom couldn’t even begin to describe the day he’d had, not until he did something with all this anger bubbling up inside of him, ready to pop.

And when it did, she was there for him, and she willingly offered herself up for him to take all his frustrations out on.

When she came for the third time around his cock, he knew that he was close, that the end of his fury was near. All he had to do was chase it, so he thrusted deeper, reaching the spongy spot deep inside of her that had her seeing stars. “Tom!” She screamed, muffled by the pillow. “It feels… oh Merlin, it feels so good.”

Low grunts emitted from behind Tom’s closed lips as he thrusted again and again and again and again until finally he reached his end, and he fell over on top of her as she cried, and he buried his face into the crook of her neck.

“Tom…” she whined as he circled his hips, and he shushed her, pressing kisses to the shell of her ear. “Shhh, quiet,” he whispered as he pulled himself out of her, sliding into the spot on the mattress beside her. He watched as she writhed, and he circled an arm around her, pulling her into his side. She sniffled as she nestled into his chest, resting a hand on his stomach as his fingernails absentmindedly traced patterns between her shoulder blades.

A silence fell over them like a warm blanket, and she thought that she never felt so safe, and with Tom touching her so tenderly, she felt the most loved she’d ever been. Tom turned to press his lips against the crown of her head, and she blinked up at him, tears long gone from her eyes but their remnants made her cheeks swollen and sticky.

Tom couldn’t help but admire his view.

“Are you feeling better?” She asked, and he hummed in reply, nodding and fluttering his eyelids closed. She rubbed her cheek against his chest, contemplating whether to question him further. “What happened today?” She couldn’t suppress the urge to ask, and he sighed, rubbing his brow with the pads of his fingers on his opposite hand.

Although most of his anger had subsided, it seemed to only make leeway for hate, hate for everything. He hated Hogwarts, the only home he had ever truly had, he hated Defense Against the Dark Arts, he hated Professor Dippet, the Headmaster who had turned him down for the job Tom so desperately desired. He hated everything, he hated anything he could.

But not her. Not the woman laying with him. He could never hate her.

She was the only thing he could bring himself not to hate in this moment. Hate could have fully taken the reign of his heart, but there would always be a small piece of it that loved her, that would always love her. She was the only thing he had ever learned to love.

Which was why it was so easy to tell her everything, to share all his frustrations, his annoyances, anything. She was always there to offer an ear to listen, a body he could lie on, someone he could love.

“Dippet turned me down for the Defense Against the Dark Arts job,” he admitted. “Said I am too young.” He left out the part where he jinxed the job so that no one would ever be able to keep it for too long. Except for him. So when Professor Dippet finally came to his senses and gave him the job, he’d know he was a fool for ever rejecting him in the first place.

Unfortunately, it would just take time.

But Tom Riddle was not a patient man.

“Oh darling,” she murmured, nestling closer into him, nudging her nose against the underside of his jaw. “I’m sorry,” she whispered as she pressed kisses to his skin. Tom said nothing as she melted into him like candle wax until they were one. The silence was back to pull them in like warmth on a cold winter's day, and eventually, the woman in his arms fell into the depths of slumber, her soft breath like early morning dew on his skin.

But Tom stayed awake.

He laid there staring up into the ceiling, sinking further and further into the mattress. His mind shifted from the woman sleeping soundly in his arms to the woman who had come into his place of work just the day before. Hepzibah Smith, a foolish woman she was to reveal to a complete stranger that she was a direct descendant of Helga Hufflepuff herself.

Another foolish mistake was to reveal to the handsome clerk at Borgin and Burkes that she had come into possession of Helga Hufflepuff’s cup and Salazar Slytherin’s locket. Of course, Hepzibah Smith couldn’t have anticipated who the handsome clerk at Borgin and Burkes really was. She couldn’t have known what was going on inside of his mind, couldn’t have known how strong the storm swirled inside of him, couldn’t have known that she had fallen into his plan like a trap, couldn’t have known how close he was to snapping.

Tom Riddle was inevitable.

And he was coming.

And poor old Hepzibah Smith would have no idea what hit her.

The next morning, she stirred awake to find that the bed was empty where Tom would usually be. She moaned and rubbed her closed eyelids with her knuckles, her lips falling agape as she yawned. She sighed and sunk back into the mattress, staring up at the ceiling as she blinked the sleepiness away from her eyes. She guessed Tom must’ve left for work already, much to her dismay.

She allowed herself to lay in bed for just a few more minutes before she heaved herself off of the mattress, shivering when the cool air hit her naked skin. She padded over to the wardrobe and dressed herself in a pale blue dress, settling herself down onto her vanity stool as she wrapped a bow around her waist and tied it behind her back, soothing down the wrinkles of her skirt. She winced as she worked a brush through her hair, and when she was done, her eyes fell upon a necklace laid carefully on the edge of the vanity.

She picked the locket up and the phantom of a smile curved her lips as she rubbed the pad of her thumb over the deep blue pendant. It was a gift from Tom, given to her just after they had graduated from Hogwarts. He said he had seen it in a shop in Diagon Alley before the year had started, and the moment he had set eyes on it, he knew that it would look dashing on her.

She felt warm at the memory, like she’d been kissed by the sun itself. She reached behind her neck to fasten the chain and let the deep blue pendant rest just above her chest before she rose from her seat, making her way down the steps of their home.

She could see no sign that he had touched anything before he had left for work, even all the food in the kitchen seemed to be in the place they were the night before. She scowled at this as she toasted a piece of bread, wondering if Tom had even eaten at all before leaving. He’d often forget to take care of himself in favor of getting work done, which was an awfully annoying habit of his. She’d constantly scold him for it, but he’d do nothing to change it.

She sighed as she took a bite of her toast.

She glanced outside the kitchen window as the morning sun peeked through the thin, yellow curtains on either side of it. It was a beautiful day, and the sun seemed to smile down on the small town of Hogsmeade, basking the village in its warmth. It’d be a perfect day for a stroll around town.

She dusted her hands off on a handkerchief and grabbed her small coin purse before making her way over to the front door, swinging it wide open and welcoming the fresh morning air into her lungs. She closed the door behind her and smiled at the next door neighbors, an elderly couple that at times (much like the night before) she was grateful hadn’t the greatest hearing.

“Good morning Mr and Mrs Barnable!” She beamed and waved at the couple where they sat on two wooden chairs just outside their home, and they exchanged bright smiles with the young woman passing by, waving their fingers. “Morning, miss!” The elderly woman said as she tended to the scarf she was knitting in her lap.

She turned back to face the road ahead of her, grinning and waving at anyone she passed by. She could hear a soft meow from the valley to the right where a small tabby cat sat, and when she kneeled and beckoned it forth, it came trotting up towards her, butting its head into her palm.

“Good morning to you too, Miss Kitty,” she chuckled before eventually rising from where she had knelt, making her way further down the street. It wasn’t until she reached Tomes and Scrolls that she stopped, pushing the door open in front of her and stepping inside.

“Ah! Good morning miss!” The current owner, Alan Brown, greeted her as she smiled, nodding her head in acknowledgement. “Good morning Mr Brown,” she said, turning to search the shelves of books lining the walls.

“Is there anything in particular you are looking for today, miss?” He asked as she dragged the tips of her fingers along the spines of the books, searching for any title that stood out to her. “I’m not yet sure,” she admitted, “do you have any recommendations?”

Alan Brown pursed his lips as he walked around the counter and past where she stood, and her eyes followed as he searched through the bookshelves before finally seemingly finding what he had been looking for.

“Now, I’m not sure if you’ve read this one already or not,” he began, passing the green hardcover into her hands. “But it is one of my favorites. It’s about a wizard who goes on a long and strenuous adventure in search of his soulmate. The author has such a way with words.” She smiled as she gazed down at the book, and she thumbed through the pages, deciding that Alan’s summary had piqued her interest. “Well, I suppose you’ve sold me,” she giggled, tucking the book beneath her arm and digging through her coin purse before passing him a few sickles.

“Thank you,” Alan Brown bowed his head in thanks, “and do let me know when you are finished with it. I’d love to hear your thoughts.” She smiled, “of course. I’m sure any book you recommend is certain to be a good one.”

And when she stepped outside of the small bookshop, Tom Riddle was stepping outside of Hepzibah Smith’s home some miles away, Helga Hufflepuff’s cup— his second Horcrux— and Salazar Slytherin’s locket tucked safely away in his knapsack.

He looked both ways before padding his way down the street, and a part of him wondered how long it would take for someone to notice that Hepzibah Smith hasn’t been sticking her big nose in everyone’s business in awhile. He wondered how long it’d take for them to find her, and a part of him already felt a twitch of amusement when they’d attempt to find whoever killed her to only come up with nothing.

Fools, he thought they all were. Hepzibah Smith, the Ministry of Magic, all of them. They were nothing more than mere fools.

Lucky for him.

Tom glanced around the empty street one last time before Disapparating and in mere seconds, he was back in the little town streets of Hogsmeade, his home just up ahead. It was still early in the morning, early enough that she should still be home.

He opened the door to their home and looked around, but she was nowhere to be found. He made his way up the steps and into their bedroom but still, she wasn’t there.

He knew he couldn’t expect her to be at home all day, but still, he couldn’t help but feel disappointed to come home to an empty house, wishing nothing more than for her to be there. He found himself longing for her again, longing for her touch, her hair, her lips, her skin. She was the only thing he could turn to for comfort, for she was the only one he felt comfortable around, the only one he had brought himself to trust.

He trudged back down the stairs a little dispirited, but just as he was about to make his way over to the armchair in the corner of the living room, the front door swung open, and there she came walking in, a soft smile spread on her face. She blinked up at him when she noticed him in the middle of the living room, and she set her new hardcover book on the dining table as well as her coin purse, her grin widening.

“Oh! When did you get home, Tom?” She asked, striding up towards him and rolling onto the tips of her toes to wrap her arms around his neck, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. “Just now,” he replied simply, his hands on either of her hips as she pulled away. She furrowed her eyebrows, tilting her head. “I thought you must’ve been at work. Where were you?” She asked, and she watched the way Tom’s lips curled into a small grin.

There was almost something… off about the way he smiled.

“You’ll never believe what I’ve acquired today,” he said, reaching into his knapsack and retrieving both the cup and the locket. She looked at them for a moment before glancing back up at him, shaking her head. “I’m sorry, Tom. I’m afraid I do not understand…”

“This,” he shook the cup in his right hand. “Is Helga Hufflepuff’s cup.”

She blinked once, twice, thrice. She stepped closer and looked down at the cup in his hand, her fingers soft against the golden Hufflepuff badger, uncertain. “Is it… is it real?” She asked, still unsure what to make of this. He nodded, “one hundred percent authentic.” He held up the locket in his opposite hand, “and this, my darling, is Salazar Slytherin’s locket.”

She eyed the green serpent in the middle of the locket, but didn’t dare touch it. She withdrew her hands away from the Hufflepuff cup, shaking her head. “But… Tom, how could you afford all this? We haven’t any money…” she trailed off as he carefully placed the Horcrux and the locket back into his bag. Her eyes followed his hands as they reached to cup either side of her face, and he gazed down at her with those strangely dark eyes, somehow darker, murkier than ever.

She was the only one who could read Tom Riddle. But right now, she hadn’t even the slightest clue what he was thinking, what was going on inside the strangely beautiful yet mysterious mind of Tom Riddle.

“You needn’t worry about that, my love,” he murmured, the pads of his thumbs soothing over either of her cheeks. “You needn’t worry about anything at all,” he whispered against her lips before drawing her in for a kiss, and she watched as his eyelids fluttered closed. Instinctively, she reciprocated the kiss, and she allowed Tom to do whatever he pleased.

But she couldn’t stop the storm raging inside of her head even as his kisses trailed down her neck, past the deep blue pendant around it, and to her collarbone where he sucked marks into her skin, his fingers unraveling the bow she had tied so delicately behind her back mere hours before.

She couldn’t help but worry over how cryptic he was being, and she wondered if she’d ever know the whole truth. She wondered where he was just before he came home, when she presumed he was at work. Surely nobody came and donated such ancient and magical items to Borgin and Burkes without a high price— but of course, she didn’t know much about the shop that Tom worked at in the first place.

Her pale blue dress was being slipped down her arms as Tom’s kisses ventured down to her breasts, and she clutched at his shoulders, squeezing her eyes closed when he took one of her nipples in his mouth. Something was wrong, terribly wrong and she could feel it. But she could worry about it later. She couldn’t bring herself to worry over it anymore, not when Tom made her feel this good.

So she let him lead her up the stairs and into their bedroom, let him lay her down gently on the bed, let him tug her dress down her legs and completely off her body. Her heart thud against her chest as she watched him undress himself, unbuttoning his black shirt, sliding his grey trousers down his legs, slipping his feet out of his noir leather shoes. She let him trail kisses all the way from the tops of her feet, up her legs, to the inside of her thighs and all the way to her center where her slick trailed down her slit, unbeknownst to her until he pressed his tongue flat against her, lapping it up.

Her toes curled in and she threw her head back against the pillow as Tom toyed her clit with his tongue, gazing up at her through hooded lids. He gave her pearl a long and thorough suck before trailing kisses back up her belly, between the valley of her breasts, up her neck, once again past the pendant on her throat, and creeping up her chin until he reached her lips again. He cradled her head with one of his palms and her eyes fluttered open to meet his, and he thought that this was when he felt most at home.

But even he knew that this couldn’t last forever.

In fact, it was only a couple of months later that Tom decided what he must do.

His heart trembled in his chest as he listened to her sobs whilst he packed his few belongings in his briefcase, and when he slammed it shut, he gazed up at her as he locked it. She, who was once always smiling, whose eyes used to always sparkle even in the darkest hour, now only cried, her eyes bleary and begging him to stay.

“Please don’t do this, Tom,” she managed to speak between sobs, her voice wavering and meek, on the verge of breaking. She gathered either of his hands between hers and she squeezed, she squeezed so hard because she knew that this was her one chance to be his anchor, to anchor him here so that he may stay here forever with her. “You can’t… I don’t want you to…” she shook her head, frustrated with herself and him and absolutely everything. “Please don’t leave.”

She didn’t understand, she couldn’t understand. Nothing could have ever prepared her for this, nothing could’ve prepared her to watch him leave, to go off on a journey all alone for who knows what reason. She’d known Tom since their first year at Hogwarts and since then, she always knew that he was an enigma. But this, this leaving her without giving any reason— it was frustrating. Oh, it was so damn terrifying and it frightened her the way she could feel her heart break, and she feared that she’d never be able to mend it again.

For all these years, she’d always had him, always had him by her side and always sought after him on her darkest days, always confided in him and reached out for him when she needed someone. What was she to do now that he was leaving her alone?

She never felt like somebody until Tom came along. But with him, she felt important, she felt like she mattered. And now it just felt like he was throwing her away as if she were nothing.

Tom said nothing, even though he, too, could feel his heart begin to rupture in his chest. He loved her. He truly did, even though he was terrified of love at first. After all, he’d never loved anything in his life until she came around.

And when he allowed himself the luxury of loving her, he knew he was jeopardizing everything he had been working toward ever since Albus Dumbledore had told him why he was different from every other kid at the orphanage, ever since he stepped foot into Hogwarts, ever since he had told himself that he’d be the greatest and most powerful wizard of all time.

But he made an exception for her, because when he tried to tear away, he found that he couldn’t, he found that he couldn’t bring himself to be without her unless he felt like bleeding. She was like his bandage, holding him together, keeping him going.

And so in doing that, he had made his first mistake. He gave himself a weakness.

But it had all been worth it, because after all, Tom could never regret loving her, and he knew that no matter what, he’d never forget her. And maybe someday, once he’d successfully split his soul into seven pieces, he’d see her again.

But for now, he knew what he must do.

He gripped his briefcase and strode out of their bedroom, making his way down the stairs. Of course, she chased after him, just barely managing to grab his elbow when they both reached the bottom of the steps, and she turned him around, grabbing either side of his face.

She gazed up into Tom Riddle’s dark irises and saw something more, something she thought she’d seen in a whisper just months before, back when he first showed her Hufflepuff’s cup and Slytherin’s locket. But it was evident now, and she flinched when she saw it.

She wasn’t sure how she hadn’t noticed it before, how his skin had gradually become slightly paler than it was before over the months, how the sclera of his eyes were no longer pure white but a bright red. Tom Riddle was still as handsome as she remembered him to be but somehow more… ominous.

“What is going on inside that head of yours?” She asked quietly, shaking her head as the hand not cupping his cheek ascended towards his hairline, brushing a loose curl of dark hair away from his sullen face. Her bottom lip trembled and her eyes began to water again when she met his stare once more.

After a while, he finally said, “we will see each other again, my love.” He grabbed either of her hands and tenderly pressed a kiss to the inside of her wrist, squeezing his eyes closed as if to savor this moment. She blinked, and a tear crystal slipped down her cheek and to the floor below. “You must know that I love you,” he murmured, and she knew it. She knew he did. Which was why she couldn’t understand why he was leaving. “And I can give you the life you’ve always wanted. But I must go away for a while first.”

She shook her head and her hand slithered around to the back of his head, keeping him here, holding him here. “All I want is you,” she whispered, pushing against the back of his head until his forehead fell on top of hers, her other hand squeezing his bicep. “I want to be with you. So please, just stay.”

Tom squeezed his eyelids shut tight, savoring this last touch before he was willing himself to pull away. Her palm slipped down to his until his touch was ripped away from her altogether, and when he took a few steps backward, she could feel all the scars that Tom had made shine like stars, the scars that he had single-handedly stitched together rip open.

Because somehow, she knew that this would be the last she’d see of her Tom Riddle.

“We will see each other again,” he repeated in a whisper like a sacred prayer, and she had no doubt about it. But she knew that once he left, everything would change. “But for now, this is goodbye.”

And at once, her Tom Riddle Disapparated away and her legs wobbled before she fell to her knees, leaving her to bleed all alone in the home that once belonged to them.

a/n; a little something i thought up last night after watching a cardigan tasm edit LMAO but honestly i love this song and i feel like it kind of fits tom???

| 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 |

@darkmoviesquotespizza @lyis 🥹🫶

#tom riddle #tom riddle x you #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle smut #wizarding world #harry potter #harry potter fic #harry potter fandom #harry potter imagine #tom riddle fic #Spotify

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marchtomydrums · 3 months ago

Text

Old Habits

Billie Dean Howard x Cordelia Goode x Wilhemina Venable x Reader

Your last class was canceled today so you decided to surprise Billie with a visit. She's been working hard this week and sometimes you like to surprise your girlfriends with lunch.

You walked into the building smiling at the women at the front desk. She smiled as you walked by with your hands full of Billie’s favorite takeout.

You opened her office door and what you saw next was completely unexpected. There was Billie's face deep between some woman’s thighs as she trembled on her desk.

“Oh god, Billie Dean.” the woman moaned.

“Billie?” you called out.

The blonde's head pops up quickly as she looks at you.

“Y/n?”

“I...I um I brought you lunch but it looks like you already have some,” you mumbled setting the bags down on the table.

“Y/n.”

“See ya at home,” you said quickly as you ran out of the office.

“Wait no! Y/n! Y/n!” Billie screams running after you.

You didn't stop you ran as fast as you could. You cried the whole way home going over the scene again and again in your mind.

Once you made it home and behind closed doors, you snapped. Your sobs were loud and painful. It felt like your heart was being squeezed in your chest.

“Sweetheart?” Cordelia called out.

“Oh honey what's the matter?” she asked sitting beside you on the couch.

You cried harder as she held you. It didn't take long for Mina to walk into the living room.

“What's wrong? What happened?” she asked. Cordelia shrugged her shoulders as she tried to calm you down.

The front door slammed shut as Billie walked in.

“Oh thank god you guys are here. Y/n I.”

“Get away from me,” you screamed.

“Y/n please let me explain.”

“Yes please do please explain to them how you were cheating on us!”

“What?” Cordelia and Mina said in unison.

“Yeah. I went to her office with lunch to surprise her and there she is fucking some woman in her office.” You shout.

Cordelia and Wilhelmina’s heads snap towards Billie. “What?” they asked in unison shocked to hear this.

“It’s not what you think,” Billie says to them.

“It was Ally.” She says.

The name means nothing to you but you notice how the other two women’s shoulders relax a bit as if this is good news.

“Who the fuck is Ally?” You hissed.

��Ally is a friend of ours. She lives in Michigan. She’s a senator there.” Billie says.

“Okay. And?” You asked still not understanding.

“Babydoll before you the three of us would invite others to sleep with us. Mostly random women we met out but sometimes friends. Ally is someone we used to sleep with often whenever she came to town to visit. She hasn’t been here in a while but she showed up today.”

“Wait a minute. So you’ve all been sleeping with her since we’ve been together?” You asked looking at each of them.

“No.” They quickly say.

“Sweat heart we haven’t been with anyone since you,” Cordelia says softly.

“Well until now…” Mina adds looking at Billie pointedly.

“Hey! We never talked about Ally and if our plans changed. It’s not like I planned this she just showed up. It’s nothing that any of us haven’t done before.” She says defensively.

You look over at the blonde tears streaming down your face. “How would you feel if you saw me like that? Huh? Pinned down by some other woman throwing my head back in pleasure as she eats me out?!”

Mina growls at the thought of someone else having their hands on you. Out of the three of them, she is the most possessive.

Billie Dean lowered her head in shame.

“I wouldn’t like that. I’m so sorry y/n I swear to you it wasn’t something I had planned nor would I do it again. Babydoll please believe me.” She begged reaching out to hold your hand.

You snatched your hand back rejecting her advances and shaking your head.

“I don’t want to be touched. I want to be alone I need to think.” You said making your way towards the stairs.

The three women watch you disappear upstairs.

“Nice going Billie Dean!” Mina hissed at the blonde.

“I didn’t do it on purpose you know how Ally is.”

“Yeah, I do. But that still gives you no right to just have your way with her. I thought we left that lifestyle once we became involved with y/n.” She says looking over at Cordelia.

“I thought so too but Billie Dean is right we never spoke about what would happen if Ally or any one of our friends returned. I think the two of us subconsciously decided we were done with that once we met y/n. Maybe Billie had other thoughts?” She asked looking over at Billie.

“So you two are just going to blame this on me? I never thought about being with anyone else but the three of you. Ever. Ally is different though. I thought… I thought it was okay.”

“Well, it wasn’t,” Mina adds.

“I know that now!” Billie huffs.

“We will figure it out,” Cordelia says.

“I hope y/n will forgive me.” Billie cries.

Cordelia frowns as she brings Billie into her arms holding her tightly. Mina looks at the sight in front of her as her heart breaks. One for Billie Dean and one for you. While she was upset with Billie she didn’t like to see any of you upset.

“Just give her some time. She’s hurt but she will come around. I will speak to her.” Mina says.

“Thank you.” Billie smiles.

The three women smile at each other sending looks of love to one another as the sound of Billie’s phone interrupts them.

Billie frowns as she looks down at her phone.

“Who is it, Billie?” Cordelia asked.

“It’s Ally.” She sighs handing the phone over to Cordelia.

Cordelia and Mina look over the text.

Are you lovely ladies free tonight? I miss the three of you.

Flight leaves at noon on Friday.

Let me know.

-Ally.

#lgbtq #wlw #writing #fiction #television #sarah paulson #american horror coven #american horror story #wilhelmina venable x reader #billie dean x reader #cordelia goode x reader

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icequeenlila · 8 months ago

Text

A Son for a Son

“What is wrong with you?”

Neteyam’s voice was small, but intense, pressed through the slits of his teeth, bared in a silent snarl. There was something vicious to it. Something that was almost vile. Kiri, who had been sitting pressed right up next to Jake, moved away from him now. Shock clear inside her wide eyes.

“Dad”, she croaked at a loss of words, her voice small and miserable. She was shaking her head absentmindedly, while slowly crawling away from him.

Jake looked at her and suddenly his chest didn’t feel all that numb anymore. He didn’t even try to apologize. He deserved this.

“All I ever tried to do was protect him!”

Neteyam’s voice made the hair on Jake’s neck stand on end. He looked back at his son and whatever wall there had been protecting Jake from everything he didn’t want to feel, broke away just like that. Like harsh waves of ice-cold water hitting him straight on, and all his defenses came crumbling down.

Neteyam didn’t look like himself anymore. There was bottomless rage inside his burning eyes, silent tears running down his cheeks unnoticed. His shoulders were drawn back, muscles strung tight and shaking violently. He looked like a mad animal about to attack.

And Jake felt his own heart shatter at the realization that he’d never noticed how much of himself Neteyam had been hiding all this time. Without him noticing. It was all breaking free now.

“I tried to protect him, not just from all the dangers out there!”, his son screamed, voice strung so tight it was barely his own anymore. “Not just from the outside, from all the shit happening around us!” He made a wide gesture with his hand, movements abrupt and edgy, signing at the wreck of a life they were leading.

“Neteyam.” Neytiri’s voice was weak, face wet with tears as she reached for her son.

Neteyam ignored her.

“I wanted to protect what he has in here!” He violently tapped his chest, his burning gaze not once leaving Jake. He was shaking all over now, almost out of his mind. “Because I know Lo’ak and I know he doesn’t like himself and I know that part of it is your fault!”

A heavy sob rasped from Jake’s throat, and only now did he realize the hot burn inside his eyes. The wetness of his skin and lips, as miserable tears ran and ran his face. He didn’t say a word, determined to listen to everything Neteyam had to say. Everything his son had to throw his way; he would take it.

“All I ever wanted was to keep him safe and you … you just … you turned me into this!”

And Neteyam’s voice was a wretched thing now. Shrill with raw anger. His eyes focused solely onto Jake, gaze piercing him, lips pulled tight over his teeth as his jaw trembled with uncontainable rage.

“You turned me into this nightmare, into a bad memory. You made me his biggest guilt! What the fuck?! What is wrong with you?! Tell me! Tell me, because I don’t get it! You tell us you love us, that you will keep us safe and then you do this! You blamed him! You blamed him! You put my death onto him! I hate you! I hate you! I HATE YOU!”

“Neteyam!”

Neytiri was at his side now, not waiting for him to look at her but simply wrapping both her arms around her son, pulling him in tight against her. She buried her lips against his sculp and kissed him like she had when he’d been still a child, one hand on the back of his neck, the other smoothing over the top of his head, and she cried while rocking him back and forth, holding him like the small child he once had been.

And something broke then. A shudder running through Neteyam’s body, the all-consuming rage inside his eyes subsiding as something else entered his gaze. Something softer. Something that was deeply hurt and vulnerable. Unbearably raw.

His face half buried against his mother’s shoulder he blinked against the tears, eyes wide, like he only now grew aware of them. Like he was only now starting to feel the pain they brought. Like he was only now understanding how utterly broken it all was.

“Mom?”, he croaked, voice barely audible, his body falling slack against his mother, his arms hanging useless at his sides.

“I am so sorry, my son”, Neytiri cried, rocking him softly, holding him, running gentle fingers through his hair. “I am sorry. I promise everything will be right again. I promise I will keep all of you safe. Your father and I will do better. I promise, Neteyam. You will never have to feel this way again.”

Neteyam showed no reaction.

~ from chapter 10 'Hope'

Link to fic

Link to chapter 10

#atwow #avatar the way of water #avatar way of water #loak sully #neteyam sully #jake sully #atwow loak #atwow neteyam #neytiri sully #neytiri te tskaha mo'at'ite #neytiri #ao3fic #ao3 #atwow fic

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darkestspring · 2 years ago

Note

The night Aemond lost an eye, what if Lucerys twin sister had sided with him. Claiming Vhagar chose Aemond just as much as he chose her and it wasnt right for him to be beaten up for it.

The only one in the room besides his mother to back him and make him feel validated.

Then at Storms End she offers her own eye in replacement of Lukes.

You had always thought their bullying (it was just that, no matter how many times luke and jace told you they were just playing with him, friendly teasing they caught it) of aemond was vile, it was horrible.

You had formed a friendship with over shared secrets in the secluded areas of the library.

Your dragon was bigger than normal. When your egg hadn't hatched, your mother had brought you to dragonstone and you had bonded with silverwing, your great-great grandmother's dragon.

"Silverwing is big enough to saddle two." You had told Aemond one day, a smile on your face. "I want to take you for a ride." You had, in secrecy. No one knew but the giddy smiles you shared in seclusion mean everything to you.

So, how? You had thought to yourself in horror, seeing Aemond's bloody face and his right eye stitched up. How could this have happened? Why did jace have a blade? Why did luke hurt him? How could they have taken it so far? From bullying to maiming... Are these really my brothers?

You had ran to him, forsaking your secrecy with him. "Aemond, Aemond. You're hurt. You're-" Sobs came out of your mouth, ignoring everyone else.

"Don't cry." He, who was injured, had comforted you.

You had been angrier than ever, screaming at your mother, sobbing at the injustice of it all, unaware of Aemond's awed gaze on your or the victorious look that alicent had given to your mother.

You had refused to talk to anyone for almost a year afterwards, something that had torn your brothers and mother to pieces.

but it had been years since then and so much had changed. You had remained the same. Loving and defensive. No one understood the care you held towards Aemond and it angered you. You didn’t want to think of how your mother would react if she found out that you had given yourself to Aemond when you had returned to the driftmark claim.

But your grandfather was dead and aegon was made king in front of the crowds, stealing your mother’s birthright. You and Luke had headed towards Storm’s End, only to be met by Aemond.

His stance softened as he saw you but hardened at the sight of your twin.

“I want your eye.” Aemond had claimed. “One will do. I will make it a gift to my mother, for all the pain of that night.”

“I came as a messenger.” Luke refused, stepping back as his hand clutched at yours.

“Luke, leave us.” You demanded, bringing both his and Aemond’s attention to you. You gave your twin a stern look and he nodded, leaving to go to Arrax. “Luke’s eye would not suit you, Uncle.” You commented. “It is a purple eye you need, like mine. Shall I pluck it out for you?”

“Sweet niece.” He murmured, his gaze neevr leaving yours as he walked closer to you in slow, steady steps. “It is not your eye I want.” He refused gently, his hand reaching out for your cheek. “I remember your tears that night. It was only you and my mother that defended me.”

“And yet, i fear it has not been enough. You still crave revenge and we are on opposite sides.” You fought against the urge to melt into his warmth.

“I wonder, does your mother know that I took you for my own. How you screamed and sobbed. How you came apart for me.” His thumb brushed over your cheekbone as your cheeks went red.

“Take my eye and be done with it.” You pulled back, staring at him with a hard look in your eyes. “Or take me and make me your wife.”

#yandere house of the dragon #yandere aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #lukes twin reader

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yandere-writer-momo · 2 years ago

Note

Is it alright to have Yandere Jun with mermaid reader who wants to see humans and then leave.🙂😳?

I didn’t forget, it was just difficult for me to picture this. So happy mermay y’all! @scr3amingqueen I finally made a story for your fan art 💕🧜‍♀️🧜

Yandere Baki Head Canons

Yandere Jun Guevaru x Female Mermaid Reader

Jun Guevaru

When Jim finally escaped prison, he returned to the sea. His heart filled with adventure lust

Jun decided to explore uncharted waters and low and behold, he catches a glimpse of a colorful tail of a fish he’s never seen before. A very big fish

He encourages his men to set out nets to try to catch that colorful fish. Maybe it was a new species? Either way, it may sell for a pretty penny

But this fish was incredibly smart. It evaded all of the traps and sometimes, Jun swore he’d seen the upper half of a woman. He brushed it off as him getting a little crazy from being on the water for too long

Then the day comes that he’s finally able to capture that fish and… it wasn’t a fish at all but a mermaid. You were a mermaid that was just curious of the strange creatures on the large vessel, you never meant them any harm

Mermaids were stories of sailors who have been gone for too long on the sea, Jun had no idea that they’d be true. That this beautiful creature that laid out on his ship deck in front of him was real. Yet here you were sobbing in front of the sailors, unaware of the pearls that fell from your eyes instead of tears. A jack pot

Jun has his men put you in a tank of salt water below the ship deck and he makes sure that they make you cry a lot by scaring you. The crew members slap their hands against your tank and make loud noises to get more pearls to fall from your eyes. You’re miserable

A week goes by and you become so incredibly homesick. You miss your family and friends. If only you hadn’t been so curious… then maybe you wouldn’t be so hungry and sad… maybe a song would make you feel better?

It’s late at night and all of the sailors are sleeping except Jun. He’s in his captain quarters trying to figure out where to sell you and that’s when he hears it. The most enchanting melody he’s ever heard

Jun rushes to your tank, his eyes widening at how gaunt your cheeks look compared to when he first found you. Had his crew members not been feeding you like they were supposed to? He’s sad you stop your song and swim to the far corner to your tank. You’re afraid of him… and Jun’s heart twists. He doesn’t know why it hurts him to see the fear in your eyes but it does…

Jun punishes the crew members for their mistreatment of you and takes it upon himself to care for you. It’s the first kindness you get from your captors. You’re extremely hesitant of Jun but you begin to warm up to him over the course of the next few weeks

And you finally speak with him. He’s shocked to learn that you can speak and even more shocked that you understand him. You two begin to converse for hours and he finds you extremely charming. Jun is also thrilled to finally know your name (and you his)

You share with him about how mermaids can gain legs if they drink human blood but you joke with Jun that it’s just a folk tale amongst the other mer. Jun begins to think about it. He really enjoys your company… Jun realizes he’s in love with you. Madly, utterly in love

One of Jun’s crew members tries to touch you while you’re in your tank. You scream loudly in fear. Your scream alerting Jun, the pirate captain running to your defense and quickly giving the member a quick death. He didn’t hesitate to slit their throat. Their blood splashing all over your face and some even got into your mouth…

Imagine Jun’s surprise to see that you now had the lower half of a human woman? Legs and all? He quickly dresses you in his shirt and carries you to his quarters before anyone can see you. Jun lays you on his soft bed with a bright smile

You’re confused on why Jun keeps pressing his mouth to your body as you lay there. Why he’s telling you how much he loves you and how he’s so happy that you can now receive his love. It’s a strange change in the man you’ve come to call your friend to now call your lover

Jun saves that crew member’s blood for you so you can keep your legs. Jun wants you to live with him as a human forever. Jun tells you his wishes of you becoming his wife and even the mother to his children

There’s no hope for escape and Jun convinced his crew to make sure you never escape. That you are to be referred to as Missus Guevara

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yellow-computer-mouse · 3 months ago

Text

hey!!! i cooked up some good ol book 8 spoilers for everyone! :)

uh. trigger warning for:

wof spoilers

being burned alive

almost drowning (very short mention)

lmk if you want a part two! that would be much fluffier and mostly consist of winter just. wanderin around bein silly :p

around 2 and a half pages in google docs!!! i cooked!!!!!

Hurt.

That’s all Winter could feel after colliding with Peril.

Hurt and fire and smoke, dashing across his scales and choking him until he thought he’d die of suffocation before immolation. He tipped his wings, falling backwards and plummeting to the ground. It cleared the smoke from his face, but the rush of air only fueled the fire. It grew stronger as Winter fell, burning faster and harder until all he could feel was hurt, all he could hear was flames crackling as wind whistled past him, faster and faster-

He hit something. Hard. He felt the pain burst through his shoulder and arm and ribs. He gasped, convulsing as he did. The smoke was building around his face again, asphyxiating him again. It hurt, it hurt so bad, worse than anything he’d felt before. He felt a scream tear out of him, bloody and raw and scraped with the fumes of burning.

He couldn’t breathe. Whether it was the smoke, or his voice not letting him stop, or simply his dying convulsions, he couldn’t manage to breathe. His lungs burned just as much as the rest of him.

He felt himself shrieking, sobbing, convulsing as the fire licked over his scales, eating up all the oxygen around him for itself. He tried to choke something out, not sure if anyone could hear him over the flames roaring. It was so loud.

“No- I-”

“T-tell Moon I- t-that-” He sobbed, feeling his muscles tremor beyond his control, using his body’s last reserves for themselves. He tried to cry out his friend’s name again, but his voice mercifully gave out. He tried to breathe, but there wasn’t any air left for him. The fire burned, it burned-

Something cold surrounded him. Something cold and wet that burned worse than the fire did. He thrashed, but it just made it worse, spraying up and around him and surrounding him completely, pulling him back and forth, tossing his limp body around like some sort of cat-and-mouse. He tried to breathe, but it filled his throat, his lungs-

Cold. He felt cold. He had felt a chill in the air before, but it had never reached him quite like this. He shivered. Was this what dying felt like?

Pressure. Sharp and heavy and insistent, sparking sharp bursts of pain in his shoulder and arm and ribs. He sputtered, shuddering pathetically as he coughed up the horrible choking thing that had dragged him down so quickly.

“Winter!” The voice was so sharp, so sudden. He startled, hissing frostbreath at the speaker-

-but nothing came. Why didn’t it work? His frostbreath always worked. He coughed up more water- water, it was water- and collapsed, feeling his arms give way. He trembled from cold and pain and exhaustion and fear. He was scared. Why was he so scared?

He felt something small and smooth roll over his scales, gently taking away the lingering burning feeling. Surely he was dying. He heard a soft, muffled voice. The Great Ice Dragon, he thought wearily.

“No,” they said. “It’s just Turtle.”

“...Turtle?” What an odd name for an IceWing.

“Not an IceWing, dude.” What? “Uhh… hello? C-can you see me?”

Winter blinked. He could see vague colorful blurs around him, black and pale and green. A green shape waved in front of his face, and he recoiled, hissing defensively. His frostbreath, yet again, didn’t come.

“Hey, whoa… Chill. I-it’s just me. Turtle? From your winglet?”

Winglet…?

Turtle laughed nervously. “Y-yeah. At Jade Mountain?”

Jade Mountain? That… sounded familiar.

“Me and Qibli? And Moon?”

Moon. Right. And Peril…

Peril.

Fire, dancing across his scales, choking and smothering and burning, moons, it burned-

“Winter! Dude! I-it’s okay..” Winter blinked at him, trying to get his eyes to focus. He couldn’t quite manage, and Turtle remained blurry. “Here, l-let’s go. We’re gonna take you to Mayfly’s.” He heard footsteps leading away from him, and he struggled a little. His arms gave way to exhaustion under him as he tried to prop himself up, dropping him back into the dirt. He whined. What a pathetic groveling sound.

Turtle turned back around, staring at him. At least, that’s what Winter thought. He was very blurry.

He heard someone walk closer. Their pale shape drew nearer, trying to lift Winter.

“Alright, here we go,” Qibli said, nosing Winter’s ribs gently. The warmth from his scales made Winter tense, but there wasn’t much he could do as Qibli dragged him up by the scruff of his neck. Winter would normally complain, but… he was so cold.

And everything hurt.

And it was so, so nice to be carried.

He didn’t register the walk to Mayfly’s hut, nor being dropped unceremoniously onto a cot. He whined softly, stretching his right wing out gently to try and search for Qibli. All he succeeded in doing was catching his claw on Mayfly’s chest.

“Hey,” she said lowly. “Hold still.” He complied as he felt her move closer, peering at him cautiously. She stepped back and turned towards Qibli and Moon. “What happened?”

“Firescales,” Moon said. “We- uh, we put out the fire, but…” She just nodded towards Winter. He didn’t understand what that meant.

“He also almost drowned. So, uh. Maybe check that out,” Qibli added, worry peeking through his tone. It made Winter wonder just how bad he was doing.

Mayfly looked back over at him, studying him once more. “Of course,” she murmured, seeming more focused on Winter than before. He felt her poke and prod at him, examining his burns intently. He closed his eyes, wanting some reprieve from the bright lights and his muddled, fearful thoughts. Only for a moment, he thought.

Winter felt awfully warm. It was too warm for the Ice Kingdom. Was he lower in the territory? He couldn’t remember much of anything, just fire and falling and feeling too warm. Did I fall asleep with Hailstorm again? he wondered, frowning. He really didn’t want to be in SkyWing territory… or even lower IceWing. Their parents would be so mad. He stretched his wings out, searching for the other dragonet beside him.

“Hailstorm?” he called, trying to find his brother. His eyes weren’t working. Why couldn’t he see? What happened to him? “Hailstorm??” Where was his brother? Why was he all alone?

“H-Hailstorm?” Nothing.

“Hailstorrrrmmm??” Nothing.

“Stooorrmyyyy?” Nothing. He felt so hopeless, so lost. Where was Hailstorm? Was this another rankings test? He shuddered, remembering his first. How scared he was in the blizzard. He wanted his brother.

He tried again, crying out for his brother. “Stormy?” he whimpered.

He heard footsteps. Heavy, staggered, slow. Terrified, he bundled himself into a little ball, trying to hide. It wasn’t Hailstorm, he knew that much. He couldn’t see.

“Hey,” growled a deep voice. He curled up smaller. “What do you want?”

Winter didn’t respond.

The dragon’s voice softened. They sounded familiar. If only he could remember who they were…

“...Winter? Isn’t that what they said your name is?” He shivered under his wings. He had never been cold before. Why was he cold? He was cold and warm all at the same time, and he couldn’t find his brother. He mewled, like the little hatchling he was, searching for his brother. The strange dragon stepped closer, pausing before gently wrapping their wings around him. They seemed unsure, hesitant. A little uncomfortable.

Winter opened his eyes. Warm brown enveloped him. Right. He was in Mayfly’s hut in Possibility. He wasn’t with Hailstorm. Hailstorm was gone.

Mayfly sighed, muttering something under her breath. Winter couldn’t quite pick up on it, too worn out to care. He just laid still, feeling a whine build in his throat. He shouldn’t. He knew that. He wasn’t a hatchling anymore.

Everything hurt. He had no idea what “home” was anymore, his friends had left town, he was alone and cold and scared and warm. Too warm. Far too warm.

He whimpered, unbelievably soft, as he drew his wings around himself again. He heard Mayfly perk from her corner of the hut where she had been shuffling something.

“You alright?” she asked, not making any move towards him. He let out another soft, pained noise, shivering. He heard Mayfly stand, lumbering over to him again.

“Winter?” she asked. He didn’t know her very well (if at all), but her voice was softer than usual. He mewled again. She sighed, going quiet for a bit. “Let me get you another salve. It might help.”

#not skeletons #yellow writes #wof #wings of fire #wof fic #winter wof #mayfly wof #turtle wof #moonwatcher wof #qibli wof #this is not accurate to what happens in the books #but the main focus of the fic DOES happen #so uh. spoiler alert #wof spoilers

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scorpionrising · 10 months ago

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there is love that doesn't have a place to rest — ch. 2

pairing: finan x fem!oc word count: 2709 content warning: this fic deals explicitly with the trauma of sexual assault. while there are no drawn out, graphic scenes, it is made explicitly clear what is going on. for context: oc is uhtred's daughter and was captive in dunholm for all her childhood. proceed with caution. additionally, expect canon typical attitudes, behaviors, violence, etc.

read on ao3

“and if i would've known how sharp the pieces were you'd crumbled into i might've let them lay" –big red machine ft. taylor swift, renegade

“Why are ya’ doin’ this, Lord?”

“You know why.”

“No, I really don’t.”

Ravna knew she ought not to be eavesdropping. Her father would be quite cross if he found out, but her time at Dunholm taught her several things. The first being how to sneak around without being caught. She did not catch the beginning of her father’s conversation with Finan, but she could surmise enough what it was about.

“Finan.”

Father sounded pained, as if the words were being choked out of him. She dug her nails into the bark of the tree she was behind to keep from poking her head out. Surely then, they would see her.

“Lord, I belong at your side on the battlefield.”

“I trust above all others, but what’s more important is Ravna trusts you above all others.”

She bit her lip to refrain from letting out a gasp.

Finan sighed audibly. “She will not take kindly to ya’ leaving me here to spy on her.”

“You are not spying.”

“Oh, I’m not?”

“Just keep her safe, and make sure she eats.”

“Lord, is that not what Gisela is for? I’m a warrior, not a nursemaid.”

The metallic taste of blood bloomed on Ravna’s tongue. A nursemaid. The urge to storm out there and confront them both nearly overtook her. A nursemaid! She wanted to scream. The last four years, she had thought Finan to be her friend—a true friend. Just as Sihtric was; just as Osferth was. She had for so long thought them equals. Clearly, he did not feel the same and saw her as a mere child. Squeezing her eyes shut to keep from crying in her rage, Ravna reached up to where her teeth had split her lip and rubbed the blood away.

“She will not talk to Gisela. She will not talk to me. She talks to no one as she does you.”

Had he been reporting her words back to her father all this time? Her stomach churned. How many of the abuses she suffered at Dunholm that she spoke only to Finan of to spare her father the heartache did he know about?

Perhaps she really was no more than a child, because she had been silly enough to think of him as an individual rather than her father’s man. Anger surged through her, a defense from the rushing wave of sadness pooling beneath her ribs.

“Surely Sihtric would be better suited for the job. They grew up together, and his wife just had a baby.”

“I need Sihtric to spy—”

“Lord, you have me acting a spy here!”

“Finan!” Father’s words came out in a venomous hiss. “You will remain here, and you will take care of Ravna.”

“Very well, Lord.”

“Osferth will stay as well. Invite Ravna to train with you both. It will serve her well. She ought to learn to protect herself.”

With her father’s tone a bit lighter at the end, the two men began to walk away. Once she could no longer hear their footsteps, Ravna let out the short sob she had been holding in and sank to the ground. Back pressed to the tree, she drew her knees to her chest and pressed her forehead down. She stayed like that for some time, switching ceaselessly between furious and horribly sad.

Still gnawing on her raw lip, Ravna hoisted herself up and marched straight for town. Nursemaid, she thought with a scoff. She was no child. She would prove both her father and Finan wrong. She did not need someone charged to look after her. She had survived on her own well enough at Dunholm.

She entered the hall in a storm of rage, kicking up dust and dirt behind her as she stomped up the stairs to their living quarters. She slammed doors behind her, kicked objects out of her way, flung her boots off and across the room. It was a good thing she was alone. If her father or Finan dared show their faces anytime soon, it was likely she would make an attempt at stabbing them.

“I’m a warrior, not a nursemaid,” she mocked in a horrible mimicry of Finan’s brogue. She blew a raspberry and entered her room. “Pathetic.”

She flopped facedown onto her bed and sprawled her arms out. She would remain here until someone came to find her, and they would need to drag her from the bed if they wished her to move.

Eventually, she must have fallen asleep, because soon flames were licking at her skin. They curled around her limbs like scorching hands, forcing her limbs apart and clawing at her throat. Smoke entered her lungs and her vision went hazy. She was burning.

She coughed desperately, praying it would be enough to keep the fumes from choking her. She coughed and screamed and thrashed until—THUNK!

She came to, no longer on her bed, but in a heap on the floor. She must have banged her head, because it was throbbing with a large lump forming on her forehead. Quietly cursing, Ravna rubbed her eyes and grabbed the bedpost to use as leverage to stand up. The world spun, all out of order for a moment.

“Sister?”

Feilan’s sweet voice drifted through the closed door. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes once more and wrenched the door open. Her little brother’s eyes did not even reach her hips, but they were gleaming up at her as wide as can be.

“Mama sent me to come get you,” he said quietly. “Father is leaving.” His nose wrinkled and he looked around past her. “I heard you shout.”

“I merely fell from my bed,” she said, running a hand over the braid she had slept in. “I am well.”

His eyebrows crinkled together in concern that was perhaps too great for a six year old, but he stuck his bottom lip out and his hand as well. She forced a smile and took his hand, allowing him to lead the way down the stairs.

Everyone was gathered down in the hall; Sihtric and Sig and their baby, Osferth, Hild, Gisela with Stiorra in her arms and Father at her side, and Finan—the great traitorous bastard. Father grinned at her, as though he had not been plotting with Finan a few mere hours before to spy on her.

“And to think, I thought I’d be leaving without a goodbye from my eldest,” Uhtred said, raising his arms out as if to hug her.

Ravna permitted the hug, but cut it short. If he noticed her aversion, he hid it well. But then, a crease formed between his eyes.

“What is this on your head?”

He raised a hand to her face and she promptly swatted it away while ducking out of his reach.

“I fell,” she said.

“Are you well?” he asked suddenly, fretfully. “Perhaps you should sit down—”

“I am fine!” she snapped.

It was rare that Ravna ever thought to raise her voice. She did not like loud, sudden noises, and the shouts of men did little to make her feel at ease. She kept quiet for a great many reasons, but especially because she did not want to frighten others as she had been frightened. Father looked even more concerned now, which only served to infuriate her further. She was neither soft nor fragile, and she hated being treated as such.

She had been thirteen when her father pulled her from the dark cells below Dunholm, but she was no longer that shivering, bruised child. Yes, the nightmares still plagued her, but if they had not stopped in the last eight years, she just supposed she would have to live with them forever. Just as she had been doing. Shooting her father a vicious glare, Ravna stomped over to Sihtric to wish him goodbye.

“Do not get yourself killed,” she said sternly.

“He has already gotten this speech from me,” Sig said. “But we both know he won’t listen.”

“No, he’s too pigheaded,” Ravna agreed.

“I will not have you two conspiring against me while I am gone,” Sihtric said with a frown.

Ravna smirked and looked over Sig’s shoulder at their son. The boy’s eyes had not been open once any time she had gone to visit, and she wondered if he shared the same mismatched eyes as his father.

“I can hold Bjørn so you two can have a proper goodbye,” Ravna offered.

Sig grinned. “He got his proper goodbye this morning.”

“Sig!” Sihtric hissed. “The baby!”

“The baby is too young to understand words, husband,” Sig said, eyes rolling up to the ceiling. “Here, Ravna, you can take him if you like. He’s getting heavy in my arms.”

Ever so carefully, Ravna reached out to take little Bjørn from Sig. With her oldest friend’s son in her arms, she could feel some of her anger sapping out of her. It was hard to be infuriated when holding something so sweet and small. She hummed quietly, bouncing the child in her arms as a tiny smile crept onto her lips.

Ravna held him until Sihtric and her father left the hall together, already locked in fierce conversation about the rogues they were sure to encounter. Heaving out a great sigh, Ravna handed Bjørn back to Sig and made her promise to reach out if she needed help. Gisela had even offered her a space in the hall, but Sig—ever the self-sufficient woman—declined quite gracefully. Very pointedly ignoring Finan, Ravna marched straight for Osferth.

“I’d like another lesson on your Holy Book.”

Osferth’s face split into a grin. “Of course, Lady.”

He held his arm out for her. Snorting, she placed her hand in the crook of his elbow and began to walk.

“You know you do not need to call me that.”

“Oi! You two!” Finan called after them. “Wait!”

Ravna rolled her eyes, which Osferth certainly noticed, giving the look of surprise that overtook his face. His surprise did not come as a shock, of course. How often did Ravna treat Finan with a sweet smile and wide eyes? Perhaps she really had been acting like a child this whole time; well, no more of that. She could be just as independent as Sig.

“Is everything alright?” Osferth muttered.

“Yes, of course,” Ravna said, smiling and batting her lashes.

The monk’s face darkened by a few shades and he briefly looked away from her. He cleared his throat and avoided eye contact with her until Finan reached them.

“Where ya’ off to?”

“Prayer,” Osferth said.

“Alone,” Ravna added sternly.

She did not think she could bear to be around Finan right now, not with the knowledge that he would be likely reporting all her comings and goings back to her father. Would he write it down so he would not forget a single action she took? Or would he commit it all to memory and just inform Uhtred of the exciting bits?

At her unusually cross tone, Finan and Osferth alike widened their eyes in shock. It was rare she ever got snippish, and even more rare for it to be directed towards Finan. She glowered, tightened her grip on Osferth’s arm, and began pulling the monk after her to walk away. If Finan thought he was being left here to act as a nursemaid, he could spend his time with the actual children.

She led Osferth through the woods to the spot she loved so much, and sat down in a huff. There was a small smile toying at his thin lips as he mirrored her position. They sat close, facing one another with their knees touching.

“So,” he began, “why are you angry with Finan?”

“I am not angry at Finan,” Ravna said defensively, scowling.

“Could’ve fooled me.” He grinned a bit teasingly. Then, his face organized itself into something a bit more somber. “Something is clearly bothering you, Lady.”

“I’m not a lady,” she said, half blushing.

“You’re an ealdorman’s daughter,” he said as though she needed to be reminded of it. “That makes you a lady.”

She rolled her eyes and lifted her face to the sun. The air was getting warmer each day, and soon she would be able to swim in the river without catching a chill. With summer came a sense of freedom she constantly longed for. It was a happier time, and Father’s eyes always had less worry in them when he looked at her.

“Ravna,” he whispered.

She snapped her eyes towards him. Just like her father, and Gisela, and Sihtric, and even Finan now, there was a look of deep concern clouding his blue eyes. She clenched her jaw and tried to ignore the rush of anger. He reached forward tentatively and placed his hand over hers atop her knee.

“What is troubling you?”

Was it pity in his eyes, or was it something else?

“Everyone thinks me a child,” she finally said after a long moment.

“Who is everyone?” Osferth asked. “Because I certainly do not see a child before me. I see a woman grown.”

“That is different,” she said. “We are… of an age, with one another.” She wrinkled her nose and looked down at his hand covering hers. “I speak of Father and Gisela, and Beocca and Thyra, and—”

She stopped herself before she could say the last name, but Osferth saw straight through her.

“And Finan?” he asked her.

She was not proud of how her face burned in response. Embarrassed at how obvious it was, she pulled away from Osferth and brought her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs.

“I always thought him to be my friend,” she said quietly, ashamed at how stupid she had been all these years. “I thought he saw me as I am, not merely his Lord’s daughter.”

She was not proud of the bitterness she heard creeping off her tongue as she spoke, but Osferth never judged.

“You should not let it bother you,” he said in that quiet, contemplative voice of his.

“But it does!” She exploded, falling backwards to lay across the large boulder. “What of when I have a family of my own? When I am a mother, will my father still have his men watching my every step to report back to him?”

“I think it’s hard for him,” Osferth said. “He lost you when you were still a child, and he thought you dead for eight years, and when he found you again, you lived in Winchester with your aunt until you reached majority.”

“And that is my fault?” Ravna asked, shooting up with blazing eyes. “He did not yet have Coccham and I could hardly galavant across the country with him!”

“I did not say that,” he said gently. “I mean to say, you left his life as a child and reentered it as a woman.”

“It has been years,” she hissed.

“But far less time than you spent away from him,” he said.

She hated how he was right. Letting out a loud groan, she slumped back down and stared up at the cloudy sky through the tree branches. The birds above were chirping some absurd song, louder even than the rushing of the water below them.

“Your father loves you, Ravna,” Osferth said, a heavy sigh falling from his lips curdling the words a bit. “Many cannot say the same.”

She thought briefly of Kjartan, and the bruises he would paint across Sihtric’s skin, but what was most prominent in her mind was King Alfred. His cruelty to Osferth was an understated one. Whelped onto a servant girl, tossed into a monastery without a second thought, and never acknowledged. It always brought an overwhelming sadness to her heart when she thought of it. She reached a hand out until her fingers found his, and she grabbed onto him.

“You are loved, Osferth,” she said. “Surely you know this.”

She turned her head to look at him. His head was bowed down, the hand she was not holding tracing the cracks in the boulder. He glanced back at her and smiled just a bit.

“Now, tell me about Eve and the apple again,” she commanded. “I do not understand it.”

#finan x oc #finan fanfic #finan x reader #finan the agile #the last kingdom #tlk fandom #osferth #sihtric kjartansson #uhtred of bebbanburg #finan tlk #tlk fanfic #finan #tlk uhtred #tlk season 3 #mark rowley #the last kingdom fic #osferth x reader

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sirianasims · 11 months ago

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Cecilia moved in. As a freelance writer, she could work from anywhere, and she loved being closer to nature than she had been in Newcrest. After all, she grew up on her father’s and grandfather’s farm in Henford-on-Bagley. But when her parents got divorced, her mother had moved back to Newcrest with Cecilia and her brother.

I felt happier than I had been for a decade. I couldn’t remember having ever laughed so often or so loudly. I almost felt like when we were teenagers, except this was better.

This time, I truly appreciated just how lucky I was. It was a privilege being with the love of my life, and this time I would do things right.

Everything got even better whenever Freya was there. I loved the feeling of being a proper little family. Freya and Cecilia would joke around like old friends, and it made me happy to see them get along so well.

Freya also stuck to her promise and taught Cecilia to play basketball. Or rather, she tried teaching her. Cecilia was definitely more of a dreamer than an athlete, but she just laughed at her own clumsiness and admired Freya’s skills.

I was so proud of my daughter. I still hadn’t discussed the baby issue with Cecilia, and I really wanted to. But it was still a bit soon for that, we had barely been dating for six months and only just started living together full time. Maybe if everything kept going this well…

That is not to say that everything was perfect bliss – we obviously disagreed sometimes. I still had a tendency to get defensive when I felt criticised, but Cecilia was patient with me, and we always calmly reached some sort of compromise.

Except once.

I don’t even remember what the discussion was about. I just remember that for the first time in our relationship, I lost control and raised my voice, angrily yelling at her about something.

Katherine would have immediately matched my anger and things would have escalated into a full-blown screaming match. Cecilia did not.

All I saw in her eyes was fear.

The love of my life was afraid of me.

It felt like a punch to the stomach.

“Shit. Cecilia, I’m sorry…”

I wanted to crawl into a hole and die on the spot.

Cecilia put her arms around me. My entire body was tense and I couldn’t even look her in the eyes. I felt terrible.

“Eric? Eric, darling, look at me. I’m fine, everything’s fine. Please…”

She was not at all fine, I could hear her voice breaking.

Why was she comforting me? I was the one who did something wrong, I should be the one to comfort her. I held her tight, telling her how sorry I was for yelling, and she started sobbing.

When she’d calmed down, I finally got the full story.

I only knew that her most recent ex had been a bit of a jerk, and that she hadn’t dated for about two years after him. Not until my father had suggested she pay me a visit.

"Jerk" didn’t begin to cover it. The guy had been outright abusive, picking fights just to have an excuse to scream at her. But she was afraid of leaving him, because he was so possessive and jealous. It wasn’t until he finally hit her that she realised that she had to get away.

My heart broke for her. How could anyone treat my sweet, gentle Cecilia like that? She was the kindest person I knew.

But then I realised that I had just been yelling at her myself. The pit in my stomach returned.

I knew then and there that I would never raise my voice at her again. Or anyone else, for that matter. The memory of the fear in her eyes, the fear of me, made my blood run cold.

I realised that I still had a lot to work on. I wanted nothing more than to feel worthy of her love.

Apart from that incident, our relationship was close to perfect.

I was still a little ashamed of my philandering past, but Cecilia insisted that she didn’t care whether I’d bedded a thousand women before her.

What we had was something else.

Still, I wanted to make it up to her, so I did my best to put all my experience to good use.

While my motives may have been questionable in the past, I had never been a selfish lover. Deep down, I had known that I was using all those women to escape my own problems, so I had always made sure to make the experience as enjoyable for them as possible.

With Cecilia, I rediscovered the joy of pleasing someone just to see them happy.

She joked that I spoiled her.

I just wanted to hear her scream my name.

There was no doubt in my mind that Cecilia was the one. By the end of autumn, I had already bought the ring and always carried it with me. A dainty, pale blue thing, the stones set like a butterfly.

Cecilia loved butterflies.

beginning / previous / next

#duchellilegacy #duchellichapters #duchelligen3 #eric duchelli #cecilia bell #freya duchelli

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mochinek0 · 2 years ago

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Daminette December 2022: 14-Toxic (Meme)

"Mrs. Wayne, I apologize for the call, but there is a situation at the school with your daughter." a voice spoke, "We need you to come down to the school."

"I'll be right there." Marinette answered.

Marinette quickly made her way to her husband's office.

"I have to head to the school. They called and said something happened with Amaya." she stated.

"What happened?" Damain asked.

"I don't know." she frowned, "They just asked me to head over there."

"I'm coming, too." Damian declared.

They both knew what likely awaited them. Amaya had told them of a girl, who was deemed as 'New Pop'. She was the latest popular girl at school for dating the basketball star. The girl had become angry when she learned that her boyfriend had previously asked out Amaya and she had turned him down.

Marinette frowned as she walked the halls. After hearing Amaya saying how people were questioning her, she quickly filled her in about dealing with Lila. She never wanted her daughter to feel that way.

"Where are this girl's parents? You told me her mother would be here thirty minutes ago!" a voice screamed.

'Why does that shouting sound familiar?'

'The school called me ten minutes ago, that liar!'

Damian quickly grabbed Marinette's hand. He knew if he didn't stop her, he also would hurt whoever was yelling about their child. Marinette slammed the door open and glared at the people inside. She quickly recognized their newest secretary. She had seen the way she stared at her husband.

"M-Mr. Wayne!" Claire exclaimed, "Wha-"

"I think the question is why are you shouting at my daughter." Damian growled, "We can hear you down the hallway."

Claire shook under the glares from the Waynes. Amaya quickly rushed over to her parents and hugged them.

"What seems to be the problem?" Marinette asked.

Claire cleared her throat, "Your daughter is bullying mine!"

Mari sighed.

'I thought as much.'

"We have taught our daughter to never bully anyone." she replied.

"Well, you didn't do a good job." the secretary huffed, shoving her daughter forward.

"And you didn't let me finish, Claire." Marinette interrupted, "I taught her bullying was wrong because I was bullied. I also taught her to look for all the warning signs."

"Warning signs?" the principal asked.

"For example, before calling me, you asked where this took place and looked up the footage. We pay good money to make sure this place is ran correctly."

"The altercation was in the bathroom." the principal answered, "No cameras."

"I see. How did she hurt you?" she asked the injured party.

"She hit me." the girl sobbed, revealing her bloody face.

"With what?" Marinette questioned.

"Her hands." Michelle sniffed.

Marinette got her daughter's hands and looked them over.

"Delicate and soft. Not a scratch or a scar. Nothing under her nails and none of them are broke or chipped. There's not a sign of bruising or blood." Marinette stated, turning over her daughter's hands infront of them.

"She washed it off!" Michelle shouted.

Marinette smiled and pulled out a black tube. She clicked on a button and it lit up. She hovered it over her hands.

"This is a black light." Mari announced, "Not a trace of blood. Even if she had washed it off, this would have revealed it. There's not even a trace of it on her clothes. Also, she would have had defense marks from you trying to hurt her."

Claire looked down towards her daughter.

"Her father and I noticed a bottle of paint in the hallway, on the floor. I hope that wasn't yours." Mari smiled.

"Wh-why would it be?" the 'New Pop' answered, looking away.

"Oh, good then." Marinette sighed, in exaggerated relief, "For a second there, I thought we needed to call an ambulance. It said it contained toxic chemicals. To keep away from your face and that it could cause burns and blindness."

The popular girl screamed and quickly ran out of the room. Marinette smiled.

"How?" the principal asked.

"My bully tried the same trick with me." Marinette shrugged, "Poor thing was a model. Now, she's not."

Claire quickly moved to rush after her daughter.

"Claire." spoke Damian.

"Y-Yes, sir?" Claire questioned, hesitantly.

"You are fired." he declared.

"What?" she asked, shocked.

"Your daughter must have learned her tricks from someone close." he stated, "As I recall, you called out sick today. You look perfectly healthy to me. From your appearance, you appeared to have wallowed in someone's bed and rushed over. Your lipstick is still smeared and your heels are on the wrong feet."

Claire whimpered and rushed out.

The principal smiled, "I'm sorry for calling you. I know you would want to know."

"I'm glad that the situation was taken care of so quickly." Marinette smiled.

"Bullying needs to be dealt with swiftly, not down the road. We are never too busy for her. If possible, I would prefer them to be with separate teachers and lunch schedules." Damian declared.

"I'd also ask a student that is truthful to the staff to listen out for any rumors or even ask if they have heard any already." Marinette brought up, "If she's anything like mine, she's been telling people this has been going on for awhile. They will likely believe the other girl over our daughter."

"I'll ask the art students about the paint. They know who goes in and out of the room, the most, and can help spread the word." the principal replied.

"Can I go home for today?" Amaya questioned.

"I think that will be best." the principal answered, "I'd rather have you here at your best."

As the Waynes left the school, they noticed an ambulence in front of the school.

Amaya smiled and shouted, "I hope they can remove all that paint you put on your face, Michelle! It would be a shame if you blinded yourself with toxic paint!"

The girl cried harder as she was loaded into the back. Quickly, everyone started whispering.

'That's my girl.'

"Amaya, are you okay?" a girl ran up and asked.

"Yeah." Amaya smiled, "My parents took care of it. They saw a paint bottle and mentioned it. They said it was toxic and could blind people. Michelle ran out screaming and outted herself as a liar, in front of her mother and the principal."

"Are you going home?" the girl asked, "Are you in trouble?"

"I'm not in trouble." the Wayne heiress declared, "I'm just going home early. I'll be back tomorrow."

The Waynes walked away from the school and towards the car.

"If you ever get in an actual fight, I expect you to win." Damian spoke, as he closed the car door.

"But show restraint. " Marinette stated, "We don't need a call that you put a kid in an ambulence for breaking their ribs."

Amaya smiled, "What about a finger?"

Marinette rolled her eyes, "As long as it's not severed."

Amaya looked to her father, who smirked at his little warrior.

"I'm glad you listened and waited for us to arrive." Marinette spoke up, "I never want you to go through what I did."

"I don't think Father would allow it." their daughter replied.

"Who said I would do anything?" he answered with a smirk, "I'm sure Todd would be just as effective in relocating a child, while you appear publicly, with a solid alibi."

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