#especially when all his fears are her reality

[dark-konohagakure2]

hii i love ur work smm <33 do u think u could write an obito x younger sister reader where he still becomes evil but he watches over in the village as the years pass and notices kakashi getting too close, so he kidnaps her and reminds her who she belongs to <3 thank u

tw: incest, brother/sister, noncon, stalking, jealousy, possessiveness, semi-public sex, kidnapping, quickie, manipulation

All characters depicted are 18+

Obito still possesses a deep resentment for the Hidden Leaf Village, and just reality itself, but there are two things that keep Obito spying on the village; Rin's grave, and his younger sister. Obito still has some semblance of love and protectiveness towards his sister, even if she is all grown up now and able to be on her own, Obito just wants to make sure that she's alive and well, as long as she isn't getting involved with the wrong crowd that is.

He's checking up on her one day when Obito gets his worst fears confirmed, his sister has fallen in with the wrong crowd, the worst crowd possible; Kakashi. Obito is enraged, wondering why she would involve herself with Kakashi of all people, she knows damn well that Kakashi was (and still is) his biggest rival, so why would she be getting so friendly with him?

The Uchiha can only reach the conclusion that she's either malicious, getting involved with Kakashi just to spite her dead brother, or she's forgotten about him, about her own brother, the one whose supposed to be the most important man in her life, and Obito just won't let that slide. He's going to make sure his sister learns two thing: that he's still alive and kicking, and that she belongs to him entirely.

He'll snatch her up the very second she's alone and vulnerable, didn't he ever tell her not to walk alone at night? He's disappointed in his dear sister's carelessness. She has no clue who this mysterious masked man grabbing her is, and it takes her a moment to realize who he is even after he removes the mask due to his scarring, but when she realizes that it's her presumed dead older brother, she looked horrified, especially since Obito looks pissed.

"I can't fucking believe you! I leave for a few years and you decide to jump ship to Kakashi of all people?! I think its time to show you who your real big brother is!"

He'll start dragging her away with the intention of taking her to his hideout, but she's struggling and screaming her empty little head off, she's being much too loud and annoying for Obito's liking. He'll take a little detour, one that will shut her up nice and quick. He'll shove her against a nearby tree, covering her mouth with one hand and holding her wrists with the other. He'll hiss at her one last time to keep her mouth shut before he begins to undo his pants.

Obito is normally very gentle with his sister, seeing her as delicate and helpless, but his judgement and rationale is greatly clouded by his anger at the moment, so he'll be anything but gentle as he rips off her panties and forces his cock into her without any preparation or consent. He might apologize to her later, and she has to forgive him, they're family after all.

Normally hearing his sister scream and cry would make Obito upset, even if it is muffled by his hand, but Obito has become nothing but normal since his supposed death, and instead of being saddened by the sight of his sister in pain because of him, it turns him on, his decency and morality seems to have died along with his old self.

He's in a bit of a rush, so Obito will dump his load into her pussy rather quickly, consequences be damned. He'll make a half hearted attempt at apologizing to her as his spent cock slides out of her cunt, but it's clear he doesn't exactly mean it, he just doesn't want her to completely hate him, but he'd be fine with her fearing him, it makes her more obedient that way.

"Don't be like that, this is just a punishment for your bad behavior. Now stop whining already, let's go home so I can make you feel better, like I used to..."

Of course when he says "home" he means his dark and dank cave he calls a hideout, but he can make it comfortable for her, if she's good. If she's an extra good girl, then he might even give her the privilege of having her own bed instead of being forced to share his.

[clubsmarties]

"That you are or well I should say you already had." Laurel had made quite the impression even before he officially met her. "I am too. It worked out that I didn't stay in bed like my original plan had been. To be fair the Halloween party was fun all things considered. I did take you out on the dance floor. Wasn't all bad." His smile grew the longer he stared at her. "Is that where you're from? You did say Texas wasn't your home either. How come you didn't go to college out there? You could have left your dad and gone back?" Eli nodded his head as he smiled thinking of her friend coming to see her. "Bet that makes you happy. Do you know when you'll see her?"

Her laughter made him laugh, it was a contagious moment which they shared together in a odd little way. "Good to know bribery works on you. May end up being my secret weapon." A smirk crossed his features as he gave her a look to say he was thinking up ways to bribe her. "Fair point," he confirmed. "I'll keep you warm. Why not. Is it your feet or hands that get cold?"

"Alright I'll be holding you to that. Dont judge my awesome blankets." Though the thought of her finding the tiger blankets on his bed made him chuckle to himself. He heard her stutter briefly and looked over in fear he had said or done something wrong. But when he locked eyes with her he couldn't help but smile. Squeezing her hand a little bit tighter. "And what?" he prompted her to finish that sentence. "I promise next time you can get both lunch and dinner for me. I do like to be wooed." he shrugged giving a slight mischievous smile. "I really do think that if you weren't there she'd have clawed my eyes out. Took a lot for her to hold back I presume."

"Don't be. If I wasn't comfortable I wouldn't have answered. But yeah, we're close. I drop everything for them as you have clearly seen. As for the holiday birthday. It's alright. I've never seen a reason to celebrate it since it isn't even my actual one. Who knows when I was actually born. But family insist on it every year." He sounded exasperated but reality was he enjoyed it especially getting a cake after his complaining. "Tempting," he laughed. "But no. I wouldn't ghost you. Something tells me we'd be compatible. A little bit of a push and pull I'd guess but nothing we couldn't conquer if we worked together. I can be pretty level headed if need be. I find astrology rather sexy so I mean, if you want to talk eight world wonders to me then by all means."

"I'm taking quirky title, I'm making an impression already. I like it." Quirky was one interesting adjective, but she didn't mind it at all. It was a funny one to her. "Sounds like I should be thanking your family for your party appearance then. I'm really glad you took a chance," she confessed with full sincerity. Was she being completely obvious in her interest? Yes, definitely. There was no hiding it, but Laurel was glad they met. Whether things went how she hoped or not. Friends would still be a very good outcome. She found herself smiling as she looked at him, taking in each feature that complimented those rosy cheeks. "No, she doesn't, but I wish! She's out in California, her and her boyfriend stayed out there for college. I worked really hard to convince them, but didn't happen this time. They might come visit soon though."

Laurel's smile widened when he talked about Juju, making a note to tell her later when she called her. It also just warmed her heart how he easily picked up on her connection to that wonderful girl she called her best friend. "She does, I miss her a ton too. Definitely not, bribery would work on me too," she joked, joining his laughter with her own. Still, his laughter caught her attention - the way his eyes crinkled, oh Laurel was swooning. It was the kind of laughter that made her want to keep saying or doing anything just to elicit that reaction again.

Was she serious, she couldn't really tell to be quite honest. It was the kind of thing said in a joking manner, but she wouldn't mind if it did. She'd leave it at that. "No hogging the blanket; I mean, if you keep me warm, there's no need to hog blankets," she said with a gleam of mischief in her eyes, her flirting getting ridiculously obvious. "But, okay I'm taking notes here. Hey, I don't judge awesome blankets." He really didn't mind, huh. She figured most people minded ditching classes, Laurel usually didn't until she realized that skipping a class meant falling behind. Now, she was strict about going, but today? An exception could be made. So, it was the complete truth when she answered. "Good, I don't mind at all either. I'm excited to learn more about you and," her words trailed off when he took her hand. It was a nice fit - their hands interlocked. Oh, Julia was right, she was falling...expeditiously. "Okay, but I'll get the next one. Yes? Just to keep it even." Without thinking, already eagerly requesting a next one. Seeing his attitude shit, Laurel made the silent decision to not bring Jenny up again, not wanting to sour the mood. "Well, I don't really like third wheels. Quick thinking on your part, wiggling me out of dinner with that class project you told her about."

With his sigh, she was quick to wonder if she had asked the wrong thing or if he was one of the guys who was annoyed by the astrology questions. Though, when he began talking, she felt terrible for even bringing it up. "Oh, I see. I'm sorry, I didn't think...well I didn't think at all when asking. A holiday birthday, so you're kicking off the year with a birthday, wow. You're still close with your foster family, it sounds like." It seemed like a real family to her, the kind of closeness and bond that most families lacked. She was already shaking her head at herself for her blunder when his chuckle caught her off guard. Her eyes were drawn back up to him, a soft nod in response to his question. A slightly awkward laugh escaped her, "I mean, I wasn't thinking of that but compatible signs are interesting," she admitted. "It does depend on all that, but I will say - astrology is not make or break for me. How about you? Would you ghost me if we're like the worst astrological match in history?"

[calm-with-anxiety]

If I see or hear people defending their votes for Trump with “well I didn’t really know her policies and plans for her presidency” I will burst into flames. We live in a time where almost every piece of information is in your hand, you could’ve Googled her plans, it was on her fucking website for weeks, it was 80 pages of policy and how they planned to pay for it. Like you chose to be an uneducated voter that got information from commercials and short form video.

The economy line is bullshit because his plans will make everything more expensive, tariffs are payed for by you, you think the multibillion dollar company will take on the extra cost to buy and ship goods by lowering the CEO salary, no, they will make the item more expensive because they never promised you a $200 tv, but they did promise stockholders a dividend of $10/share. His mass deportation policy will cause the economy to collapse because immigrants, legal or illegal, do the jobs that others look down on. You never see a line of white guys in overalls hoping to be hired for below minimum wage to pick fruit for hours in the sun, you don’t see young white men showing up to construction jobs that the builder has subcontracted so it’s cheaper to build. The bedrock of the U.S. economy is cheap labor and a majority of that is immigrants who are looking for jobs that don’t require knowing perfect English and have employers that look the other way when you don’t have documents because they know you will work for anything.

Don’t even get me started on healthcare, outside of women’s healthcare which will get worse, if he finally gets rid of the affordable care act, aka Obamacare, they will replace it with nothing. The man was president before and after John McCain put his thumb down they never tried to make a new policy that wasn’t throwing the whole program into the trash. Also the affordable care act is more than just low cost healthcare, it put in place pre-existing conditions, for those too young to remember, the insurance companies could deny you coverage all because you might get cancer one day because your mother had it, you would have to pay out of pocket for an inhaler because asthma was a pre-existing condition, even if you were diagnosed with it later in life. Don’t forget what the vaccine situation will be, especially if he puts RFK jr. anywhere near it, like there is actual fear that Polio will come back because guess what? Most people under the age of 40 are not vaccinated for it because it was considered eradicated due to the mass vaccination of children in the 50s and 60s. When you complain about feeling like shit after getting the flu shot or a Covid booster, that is the vaccine working in your body, your body is doing an internal workout so if and when you come in contact with those viruses you won’t be getting extremely sick or die because someone doesn’t know how to cover their cough.

I think this election was proof that you can have all the information and still know nothing because you chose to know nothing. People vote with their eyes, not their mind. Gas where I live has been under $3.00 for months, it’s been under $2.50 at the warehouse stores for weeks, but because an ad on tv said prices are rising people believed the tv over their own experience. People saw grocery prices increase and blamed the administration when in reality corporations took advantage of Covid shortages, raised prices, recorded historic profits, and didn’t start bring prices down until this summer after people realized what was happening to some extent and even then they didn’t return to pre-2020 prices because the profit still needed to be high, they looked at the $2 increase in a bag of chips over 4 years and blamed democrats and not Lays.

This is going to be a painful 4 years, for many people here and abroad, Ukraine will have to depend on Europe which is starting to lean conservative as well and the war in Gaza will take an extreme shift that will make the last year look like a paper cut in terms of humanitarian assistance and a possible end. It’s already getting on my nerves as people tweet “we keep fighting” and “we need to be strong so they can’t do all they plan to do like the first time”, it’s not going to be like the first time, the adults in the room he had with him, many who came out and supported Harris, are gone and now it will be yes men that he was told to put there by the extreme right like the supporters of project 2025 and billionaires. And for those saying “well maybe he will die in office”, you think JD Vance is better? He allegedly picked him because DT jr. suggested him and if you have ever seen jr. and his takes you would know Vance can be worse.

This is gonna hurt for many people that will now be seen as lower than second class citizens and you won’t even have lower prices to show for it as that seemed to be the reason you voted for him, enjoy your expensive goods as people lost rights.

[ficsinhistory]

You know what is really fun stuff and I can't wait to see? When Miles and Gwen have to talk and he finds out everthing. That Gwen ran away from home and joined society because she had nowhere else to go and that her canonical event is to die, not just because she loves Spider-Man, but just to die. Whether she's a hero or not, because she's a Gwen Stacy and they always die. Especially since Miles has no idea about any of these things in the first place.

And of course, when I say fun I mean incredibly painful and traumatic 😃

[wife-of-all-dilfs]

Hii! I love love love all of your finnick fics! Could I please request a fic where reader is also a victor from an earlier game and she is in an established relationship with Finnick. They both get reaped (not the same district) for the 75th games and reader gets critically hurt in the part where the cornucopia spins. Like she falls into the water after maybe being injured and she can’t swim, so Finnick has to risk everything to save her life.

I’m really looking for like a hurt/comfort with a seriously injured reader and Finnick going through hell to save her because he cannot imagine a life without her in it.

Thank you so much if you’re willing to write this or something like it, feel free of course to change anything to your liking!

two souls, one heart | f. odair

masterlist

summary: finnick refuses to lose the love of his life. your inability to swim complicates things, especially when the cornucopia begins spinning.

pairing: finnick odair x fem!reader

warnings: pre-established relationship, heavy angst, drowning, death, bone fracture

notes: thank you so much!!! i really enjoyed writing this, shed a few tears but still enjoyed it lmao. listen to 'beginning of the end movement v' by the newton brothers on repeat for the full experience <3

A quiet nursery rhyme was being sung by the water's edge.

The calm waves around the Cornucopia lapped at the rocks, the blistering sun causing the surface to sparkle. Wiress' voice interrupted Peeta as he mapped out the arena's clock-like wedges in the dirt. Everyone was focused on the map; you should have been too.

Dark blue ripples had your eyes captivated. So tranquil. So hauntingly beautiful. Loving the sea was in your blood, as your District Four was your home. You would think coming from a fishing district would mean your swimming abilities were mastered. In reality, they were practically non-existent. No matter how many times Finnick had attempted to give you lessons, they never stuck.

Neither of you seemed to care though, always too enraptured by simply being in each other's company—feeling Finnick's hands support your body as you floated on the surface...

"Don't you let go of me, Finnick Odair, or I swear to god I'll drown you."

"Will that be before or after you drown first?" he chuckled, though ultimately tightening his grip on your body in an attempt to reassure you.

....hysterically laughing when he got wiped out by a sudden wave...

"No way! I can't—" You broke into a fit of laughter— "I can't believe that just happened!"

"Are you laughing at me, sweetheart?" Finnick asked, trudging through the water towards you, his hair drenched and swept across his forehead.

"Yes!"

You doubled over, knees buckling as you struggled to contain your laughter. Despite trying to put up a serious front, Finnick too let a few chuckles slip at the hysterical sight of you.

"Oh really?"

Just like that, his arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you down into the cold water, earning him a squeal just before you crashed together below the surface.

...and washing up on the sandy shore in each other's arms, salty lips capturing one another.

"I'm covered in sand," you murmured against Finnick's lips.

He gave you another kiss before pulling away. "It's okay," he said, pecking your lips again. "I'll help you wash off in the shower when we get back." And then sent you a stomach-flipping grin.

Even though you wouldn't trade those memories for the world, if you had known your life would soon depend on the ability to swim, you would have paid much more attention to the lessons.

Finnick stood closely beside you, his trident digging into the dirt as he gripped it tightly in case of an attack. He had noticed your drifted attention, observing the way your eyes stared at the rippling water, like death was lurking just beneath the surface waiting to drag you down to the murky depths.

He could protect you from most things in the arena, but fear was something entirely different. A trident couldn't defeat the darkness in your mind.

A hand slid onto your lower back, rubbing gentle strokes to gain your attention. Your gaze tore from the blinding blue and settled onto Finnick's face beside you, watching his mouth curve into a light smile. You knew the silent words he was trying to convey: 'You're okay, sweetheart. I've got you.'

For a fleeting moment, the anxiety had disappeared. How could anything ever go wrong with Finnick by your side? The corners of your mouth quirked, preparing to send him a smile in response. But it never came. Something new had caught your attention. The woman by the water was no longer singing.

Wiress had been murdered.

The second Katniss let her arrow fly into Gloss' chest, everything around you seemed to explode into action. Anything that could go wrong would go wrong—Murphy's Law. And it did.

The Careers had initiated an attack.

Charging forward from the waterside was Cashmere, determined to avenge her brother's death. Instinct quickly kicked in and the spear in your hand was sent barrelling through the air and into her chest. As you watched her body slump to the ground, an enraged yell came from the side.

Finnick was fighting Brutus.

With your only weapon lodged within Cashmere's chest, aiding Finnick was impossible. Enobaria revealed herself beside Brutus, displaying her vicious fangs and throwing a dagger that sliced a small cut across Finnick's shoulder. Though the wound was minor, your heart lurched as he cried out in pain.

Before a single thought in your brain could form, your legs were moving. Not towards Finnick, but after Enobaria. Remember who the real enemy is—screw that. Finnick could have died. Your Finnick. He called out your name, his voice hoarse and frayed, but you continued on, hatred fuelling each step. It seemed Katniss and Johanna had the same idea, following behind you with their weapons bared.

Salt water sprayed onto your face, but you paid it no attention. Nor did you notice as the jungle surrounding the island began to blur into one overwhelming hue of green. Only when your body was thrown to the harsh rocky terrain did you realise what was happening.

The Cornucopia had started to spin.

Nothing could compare to the terror you felt as gravity's merciless force dragged your body toward the violent waves surging against the rocks. Just as your lower legs breached the edge, a hand grabbed onto your own. Katniss. She too was hanging onto Johanna whose only lifeline was an axe buried in the rocks.

A moment—that was all you were given to scan your surroundings. Supplies and sharp-edged weapons were flying everywhere. White water was spraying into the air. Finnick, who was thirty feet away, was gripping onto a rock ledge whilst keeping Beetee from sliding into the furious waves. His head turned to the side and even from a great distance, your eyes met.

It was at that moment you knew, you just knew the odds weren't going to be in your favour. God forbid you lived a simple happy life with the man you loved, days spent together on a calm beach. God forbid the Gamemakers gave you one last chance to be in his arms. God forbid you survived.

And with that sudden realisation, the universe, sick as it was, decided it was time.

Your hand began slipping from Katniss's; an unseen tear fell from your eye, and you smiled. A smile of goodbye sent to the love of your life. His face contorted into one of agony, lips moving but you couldn't hear his voice over the roaring waves. Still, you knew exactly what he was shouting.

"NO! NO!"

There was nothing he could do but watch your body disappear into the waves, repeating over and over "no, no, no," and praying his cruel eyes had deceived him. They hadn't.

Dark blue was in every direction you looked. The undertow tossed and rolled your body like a ragdoll in a washing machine and despite your attempts to swim, the surface only seemed to be slipping further and further out of your reach. Darkness engulfed you, so thick that you couldn't tell which way was up or down. That was when the panic set in.

Your arms and legs thrashed frantically, struggling against the water's force, desperate to reach safety or an air pocket. Cold water flooded your throat as you gasped uncontrollably. You screamed as every attempt at breathing felt like fire burning in your lungs. Finnick. Where was he? Where were you? What was happening? Why wouldn't it stop?

Thoughts submerged your mind in terror, and you were powerless to stop them. All you could do was feel. Pain. Fire. Burning

At some point, the Cornucopia had ceased its spinning and your body came to a rest in the water. An eerie calm suddenly washed over you; a sense of clarity stilled your wild movements. This was the end. There was no future. No hope. The world above wasn't yours to call home anymore. You now belonged to the sea.

Of course, your water-logged mind had forgotten that home was where the heart was, and your heart was still beating... above the surface, in the aching chest of another.

Tendrils of hair floated around your face like fronds of seaweed. Rays of sunlight penetrated the surface, turning the surroundings a vibrant sparkly blue. As you sank further down, the water, now a comfortable lukewarm, cradled you in its embrace. It felt safe, like being in Finnick's arms again. Like home.

You gazed at the sun's rays; they looked beautiful. You felt beautiful. But time was running out and the bright light soon began shrouding your entire vision, though not before you witnessed a dark figure dive beneath the waves.

**********

Finnick loved the ocean. He spent most days in District Four down by the beach, swimming, spearfishing, and watching the sun rise and set on the blue horizon. If he believed in reincarnation, he would have imagined himself to be a lionfish or dolphin in his past life, living in an underwater world, free from tyranny and oppression. He loved the ocean.

But that love was incomparable to what he felt for you. So, when he dove into the rocky waters to save you and felt the currents fighting against him, he determined there was nothing he hated more than the ocean. Not as he watched its strong grip drag your motionless body further down below him.

Your back had just touched the soft seabed when he swam far enough down to envelope you in his embrace. He should have swum you back to the surface immediately, but in his distressed state, he couldn't help but foolishly stare at your lifeless appearance. Your skin was blue. It's just the water's colour, he told himself. Your eyes were closed. She's just asleep. Your neck didn't pulse under his touch. She's... She's...

He had no justification for that. Feet planted firmly on the sandy floor, he propelled both himself and you back up to the surface. As Finnick paddled back to the Cornucopia, the others reached down and helped lift your limp body onto the rocks.

"Is she...?"

"Peeta," Katniss quietly reprimanded him.

Finnick paid them no attention. He said nothing but trauma screamed in his eyes. His breathing was ragged and his hands were trembling as he frantically checked your pulse again—in both your wrists and your neck; he even pressed his ear to your chest. All he heard was the waves lapping against the rocks.

"No," he whispered again.

It seemed to be all he could say anymore. No. No, this couldn't be happening. You were just standing beside him a few minutes ago; your eyes were just looking into his. However much he tried to deny reality, it didn't seem to make it any less true. You were gone.

He choked out a rough determined breath, interlocked his hands over your chest, and began pressing repeatedly over your heart. Wet strands of tangled hair were strewn across the rocks like dead seaweed. The usual soft pink accompanying your cheeks was nowhere to be seen, devoid of any life.

"Come on, sweetheart," he muttered before pulling down your chin to blow air into your lungs. The kiss of life. And when nothing happened as he pulled away, he restarted the chest compressions. "Oh, don't do this to me," he begged, voice breaking. "Don't do this. Breathe."

Any moment now. Any moment, your eyes would flutter open, the colour would return to your glowing skin, and your heart would beat with life beneath his hands. Your lips would whisper his name and he would pull you into his arms, where he would keep you safe until the end of time.

"Breathe."

Thirty compressions. Two breaths. Nothing. He did it again. Thirty compressions. Two breaths. Silence. Maybe he should've just ripped his heart out and replaced yours with his own. Death would come for him within seconds but hearing something beating inside your chest would've made the sacrifice worth it.

Life would flash before his eyes and your beaming smile would be the last thing he'd get to see. His last thought would be of relief that you were alive.

Johanna rested a tentative hand on Finnick's shoulder. "Finnick, she's—"

"No, she's not!" he exclaimed, continuing his movements. "She's fine. Aren't you, baby? You're fine." He cupped your jaw, his thumb stroking your soft skin before he pressed his lips to yours and blew twice. "You're fine."

The golden bangle around his wrist glimmered in the sunshine as he pressed on your ribcage. All he had to do was keep you alive until Plutarch rescued everyone. One simple task and he failed.

"Finnick, we have to go," someone said. Who? He didn't know nor care.

Leave me, he wanted to say. Leave me here to die. Let the Careers mutilate my body, take my life, my last breath, but let it be by her side.

Something cracked beneath his palms and he knew one of your ribs had fractured. His arms stilled, half-expecting you to cry out in pain but then he remembered. And with that sickening crack came a devastating realisation—you really were gone.

A sob erupted from his throat and his head fell to your chest, drenching your already-soaked wetsuit with hot tears. Everything else seemed to disappear. The arena, the Careers who could attack again at any moment, the spectators who were avidly watching. Everything.

It was just him and you. He didn't care that his screams and deafening sobs could bring unwanted attention or jeopardise the group's safety. Any tribute with half a mind would know crossing him in such a state would be a fatal flaw. Even if they did, it wouldn't matter. Nothing mattered. Life no longer had meaning.

Finnick pulled your lifeless body onto his lap and cradled you protectively in his arms, lightly rocking back and forth. His forehead rested against your own, cold and damp. You always were the cold one, needing his touch to light a fire beneath your skin. He loved having you rely on him for warmth, but not like this.

"Come back to me, baby, please," he begged almost inaudibly. Tears were running down his cheeks as he brushed pieces of hair away from your face. His lips were on yours once more, heartbroken and painfully delicate; not to fill your lungs with air, but to fill your heart with his love in the hopes it would be enough to bring it back to life. "Don't leave me."

Pleas, prayers, begs, and wishes flew past his lips, over and over. And then they stopped and Finnick simply stared. Silence fell across the entire arena. The birds didn't chirp, the other tributes remained quiet, and the trees stood still. Even the water had calmed, resembling a perfectly flat mirror.

Finnick only had three words left on his tongue. Three final words to give you, wherever it was that you were. He slowly leaned down, squeezed his stinging eyes shut, and pressed a long farewell kiss to your forehead. His eyes remained closed as he parted from your skin, unable to take another look as he whispered his final goodbye.

"I love you."

And then, for the first time since he had rescued you from the blue depths, he felt his heart beating again. Just like yours was.

**********

There was a voice, distant yet reassuring—a lifeline to consciousness. Black was all there was. Coldness was all that was felt. It was desolate. But that voice... that voice was so anguished yet so familiar and encouraging that it lit a fire inside your chest, warming you from the inside out.

In the distance of the dark void was a figure, their body made entirely out of a pulsating golden light. Each word the voice spoke enhanced the light's brightness. "Come... me, please..." Brighter. "Don't leave..." And brighter.

The light was warm and comforting, just like the voice attached to it. Whoever's voice it was that brought the light resonated deep in your mind, tugging at the strings within your heart.

Your heart.

The thumping in your chest was weak, almost non-existent, but it was still there. Though it seemed time was running out. Pitch-black darkness outweighed the golden light ten-to-one; you could feel its cold breath creeping onto your back. So, you started running towards the figure. Sprinting. Until all that surrounded you was golden.

"I love you."

Water. At first, it came trickling out in two fluid streams from the sides of your mouth. Then suddenly, it was spraying into the air as choked coughs forced the liquid from your burning lungs. Light flooded your vision—not golden and inviting, but vivid and overwhelming.

There was something warm beneath your legs, against your arm, rubbing at your back, holding you in an upright position. While you heaved, dry-retched, and gasped, that soothing warmth remained.

As your airways began to clear and the expulsion of water ceased, your half-lidded eyes rolled around the area. Still dazed and disoriented, you struggled to make out what surrounded you. There was immense rippling blue, vibrant hues of green in the distance, dark rough grey beneath you, and elongated blobs of colour that stood a few feet away.

"Just–just keep breathing, sweetheart." That voice. The one belonging to the figure of light that brought you back. It was madly repeating the same words over and over. "You're okay", "Deep breaths", and "You're alive."

Shaky fingers brushed the stray wet strands of hair from your face. So warm. With the little energy you had, your head turned to seek out the golden light again. And you found it.

The blinding sun shining down reflected off his bronze hair, turning it a divine golden hue. His brows were raised and scrunched together as though he couldn't possibly believe what he was seeing. Deep lines were etched into his tear-streaked skin, evidence of his previous turmoil. Those sea-green eyes stared at you, afraid that if he so much as blinked, you would fall lifeless in his arms once more.

"You're here," he whispered.

Finnick. YourFinnick. Your light.

When your eyes met, a splitting grin lit up his face, made up of an inconceivable amount of raw emotion. You weren't sure what to do—smile, laugh, cry, kiss him? Your mind was scrambled, overwhelmed with love for the beautiful golden-haired man in front of you.

Without warning, your face scrunched up and the tears began flowing. You weren't sure why you were crying. Maybe it was because you had just been brought back from the brink of death; maybe it was because you couldn't believe someone actually cared so deeply about you.

Finnick cradled your face in his hand. "It's okay," his voice trembled, tears now cascading down his cheeks. His smile, however, never disappeared. "You're okay. You're safe now. I'm not letting you go."

He took your face into two large hands, brought you to his lips, and pressed a tender kiss to each tear that rolled over your skin. One of your hands rested over his; the other was placed against his chest, feeling it rise and fall so you could synchronise your breaths.

His arms moved to pull you tightly against him, almost like he was trying to merge your body with his. Or perhaps, it was your soul. You didn't care about the pain aching in one of your ribs. You wanted to tell him that his soul was already intertwined with your own, but words couldn't describe the sentiment as profoundly as you felt it.

In the simplest of terms your water-logged brain could muster, you whispered, "You're my light, Finnick."

Brows scrunched together, he looked down at you, fighting back the urge to start sobbing in your arms. If he had been anywhere else, if there wasn't an entire country watching, he would've gone on for hours, explaining how stupidly, selfishly, and incredibly in love with you he was.

But he couldn't do that. Not now. So, he placed his hand over the one you had resting on his chest and readjusted its position. He could feel the thumping, even through your palm.

Your eyes were full of emotion as you stared up into his. You already knew what his next words were going to be and for the first time since you were thrown into the water from the Cornucopia, you smiled.

Rhythmically, your hand and his pulsed together. Finnick's gaze flickered across your face and he grinned. "You're my heart."

[delulujuls]

so cold | house of the dragon

hi, if you haven't watched s02e02 of hotd yet and you don't want spoilers, then please don't scroll below. but feel free to hit a heart button if you wanna came back later and check on this one.

all rights to ideas used here belongs to george r.r. martin, hbo and warner bros, i just added a bit to them from myself. title is inspired by so cold by ben coaks. also, in this one reader is viserys' fifth child, older than helaena but younger than aemond, aegon and rhaenyra.

summary: targaryens started falling into madness forgetting that they are family and a strong family needs love, not war

warnings: death of a child, murder, explaining of a killing

pairing: sister!reader x rhaenyra targaryen x aegon targaryen (ft. daemon the troublemaker)

Young mother cradled child in her arms, rocking her gently to sleep. She lovingly pressed her daughter to her chest, softly humming under her breath. The girl slept, nestled against her mother, who couldn't bear to let her go. She feared that if her daughter left her embrace, something terrible might happen to her.

Someone will hurt her like they hurt her beloved boy.

"Your grace, you should rest," one of the maids whispered, preparing the queen's chamber for the night.

At one point, the young woman didn't hear her words, staring into the candle flame and lightly rocking her daughter in her arms. After a moment, she looked up at the servant and, realizing she had momentarily lost touch with reality, only sniffed and nodded. She carefully laid the girl in bed, covering her with a blanket. She gently sat next to her, hastily wiping herself her tear-streaked cheeks. Young queen placed a hand on her daughter's head, tenderly stroking it.

"Your grace," the maid began again, trying to encourage her to rest, but the she didn't let her finish "Stay with her until I return, alright?"

She asked, but it sounded more like a command. Y/N lifted her gaze to the maid, who nodded quickly. The young queen glanced at her daughter one last time, leaning down to give her a gentle kiss on the forehead. She adjusted the blanket on her one last time and then stood up. The maid immediately took her place. She didn't look at the sleeping girl, but at her mother, who quickly put on a cloak and hood over her nightgown.

"Where are you going, my lady?" the maid asked softly, nervously clutching her apron. She knew there were two guards outside the queen's chamber, and no other entrance to it. Yet, she was terrified of the responsibility the woman was placing on her, leaving her child in her care, after everything that happened not so long ago.

"I need some fresh air," she replied, wiping her wet cheeks again. Despite her whisper, her voice was firm. "I'll be back shortly. You're safe here."

The maid nodded and watched the young queen leave. She disappeared behind heavy doors guarded by two knights of the Royal Guard, who straightened up as soon as they saw her.

"Your grace," one greeted her, about to ask where she was going, noticing her attire suggested an outing. However, she cut him off. "I need some fresh air before sleep. Until I return, there's a maid inside with Jaehaera. Let no one inside, and if anyone asks, I'm asleep."

She announced, scanning their faces to ensure they understood her words. The knights nodded and bowed, because who were they to deny the queen leaving the castle, especially in her current state? Each of the three people Y/N informed of her departure assumed the young queen would take a short stroll around the castle or stop in one of the gardens to clean her mind before going to bed. However, Y/N was heading to the Dragonpit, not even thinking about going to sleep any time soon.

When she arrived, the dragons immediately sensed her presence. Feeling her sadness and grief, they murmured softly, with their gaze following her steps toward Vermithor. The old dragon knew where he would have to fly before she even appeared inside. He would fly to Dragonstone.

The cold, night wind swept tears from the young queen's cheeks as she sat on the back of the Bronze Fury. She realized she didn't actually know what to say when she will arrive to the castle. Would the guards even let her in? Would Rhaenyra want to talk? Maybe Daemon was nearby on Caraxes, wanting to attack her?

However, no one attacked her from the air, and when she landed, no one awaited her with an army. As she reached the castle gates, she removed her hood, letting her white hair fell over her shoulders.

"Your grace," the guards bowed, but they would have lied if they claimed her appearance didn't shock them.

"I want to talk to Rhaenyra," she announced, looking at their faces. Seeing her swollen eyes and wet cheeks, they didn't even dare ask if she was armed. Before them was a grieving mother who didn't want war. She wanted explanations.

When Rhaenyra was awakened and informed of her sister's visit, she quickly went to the main hall, barefoot and in her nightgown. She felt like she was still dreaming and her mind was playing tricks on her, but when she saw her sister accompanied by two guards, she realized the reality. Sisters looked at each other in silence, unsure of what to say and how to begin. Rhaenyra felt a lump in her throat when she saw in what state Y/N was. She felt like she was looking at her reflection from a few weeks ago when she herself mourned her son's death. Y/N's eyes welled with tears again. She hadn't seen Rhaenyra for so long.

"Nyra-," she began, but her voice broke. The older woman started towards her, but a guard stopped her with a hand gesture.

"Your grace, we don't know-," "She's my sister," she said firmly, glaring at him. She passed the young knight and approached the girl, whom she immediately hugged. As soon as she closed her in her arms, Y/N began to sob. Rhaenyra held her tightly, feeling her own tears burning beneath her eyelids.

"They killed my boy," she cried, clenching her fists on Rhaenyra's robe. "They killed my angel, who did nothing wrong. Why? Why did they kill one of the two most innocent people in this cursed castle?"

Rhaenyra had no answer to any of her questions. Even if she wanted to say something, she couldn't, being completely out of words. She hugged her sister, who trembled in her arms. Despite her heavy cloak and cape, she felt her body shaking.

Still embracing young queen, Rhaenyra led her to one of the couches where they sat together. She held her hands tightly as she tried to sort out what she wanted to say. Y/N had no idea what to say either, she just wanted to rid herself of all the pain no one in the castle cared about. No one wanted to listen to her, no one even wanted to hug and comfort her; everyone needed to be heard and comforted as well. Of all the people, Y/N could only come to Rhaenyra, who was now an enemy to all of King's Landing. However, for the young queen, she was not an enemy but a sister and a mother who had recently mourned the death of her child, too. No one could understand her better.

"They cut off his little head as if he were a worthless pig," she said bitterly, staring into the flame dancing in the fireplace. Rhaenyra saw that Y/N still had her dead son's body before her eyes, and she knew that the sight would stay with her for a long time. She would give anything to relieve her pain.

"I've never seen such a small coffin. And it was still too big for him," Rhaenyra quickly wiped her wet cheeks herself, but it didn't gave much help.

"Instead of treating his funeral properly and with respect," Y/N began, but her voice broke. "Otto ordered a procession. They dragged him through the entire city along paths he was not even able to walk in his lifetime."

Despite the sadness, grief, and sympathy, Rhaenyra began to feel anger. The Hightowers turned the death of a child into a spectacle to portray them as victims and her as a murderer. It wasn't even about deciding to condemn her even more; it was the fact that they used the tragic death of an innocent child for it.

"He said Alicent and I should take part in the procession so that people would sympathize more. She…she-," young queen began to sob, to which Rhaenyra hugged her tightly. "When I said I didn't want to, she declared it was my duty. It wasn't my duty, was it?"

"Of course not," she answered, stroking her head. Rhaenyra's tears soaked her sister's hair as she hugged her. "You didn't deserve this, Y/N. I'm so sorry."

The young queen cried in her arms, and Rhaenyra continued to hug her tightly. All she could do at the moment was provide her with a little comfort, which she was so eager for. Y/N herself had not been a child so long ago and now she had to deal with such suffering.

After a while, when the wave of despair passed, Y/N moved away from her sister and looked at her face, desperately seeking explanations.

"What actually happened, Nyra?"

"There was a mistake," a voice came from the corner before Rhaenyra was even able to open her mouth to speak. When Daemon came out of the shadows, Rhaenyra hugged her sister tighter and gave him a fierce look.

"You have no right to be here," she said sharply, but her voice trembled on the last spoken word.

"I have the right to explanations," he replied calmly, looking at her and then at his niece. The young queen looked at him in silence, finally wanting to know the truth. The pain could be devastating, but she knew that moving forward would require it.

"Why-," she began, biting her lip painfully. She didn't want to cry in front of him. "Why did they kill my little boy?"

"Aemond was supposed to die," he said, approaching. "Son for son."

Y/N shook her head in disbelief, snuggling into her sister. She couldn't look at her uncle.

"They didn't find Aemond, but they found you and your children-" "That's enough," Rhaenyra interrupted sharply. "Leave, now."

However, Daemon approached even closer, still looking at his niece. He knelt in front of her.

"There are no words to describe how sorry I am," he said quietly but firmly. "I'm so sorry Y/N, that you got caught up in this conflict. You and your children shouldn't be involved at all."

The young queen sniffled and looked at him tearfully. She felt a cold hand tighten around her throat, struggling to breathe because of what she heard.

"I'm sorry, Y/N," he repeated, this time looking her in the eye.

"How many more family members will I have to mourn for this madness to end?"

Rhaenyra kissed her temple and hugged her tightly. The three of them remained silent for an indefinite time. At one point, Y/N stood up, breaking free from her sister's embrace. She wiped her wet cheeks and took a deep breath.

"Aegon is angry and wants war," she began, looking around them. "But more than anger, it's grief that consumes him. He lost a child."

"We don't want war either," Rhaenyra assured, holding her hand. "The last thing I want is more death."

"I'll try to talk to him and appeal to his reason," she said, squeezing her sister's hand one last time. "I don't want any more death, too. This has to end."

She was about to leave, but Rhaenyra stood up and hugged her tightly one last time.

"I love you, bird," she whispered, holding her tightly. "I love you and I'm so sorry for all of this."

"I'm not your enemy," Y/N said softly, closing her eyes. "I'm your sister. And I too love you."

After a difficult farewell, the young queen returned to the castle. As she walked through the empty, silent corridors, she tried to be quieter than a mouse. However, as she passed Aegon's chambers, she heard sobbing. Her brother must have sent the guards away because there was no one at the entrance. The girl fought herself for a moment, but after a while she quietly entered the room. Aegon sat by the fireplace, leaning his elbows on his knees. He nervously rubbed his hands and his hair covered his face, but she could hear him crying.

Y/N still had her hand on the doorknob, unsure what to do or say. Since the news of their son's death, they has not spoken a word with each other.

"Aegon..." she began uncertainly, but he didn't react to her words at all. The girl left the door ajar and walked slowly to him, afraid of what she might expect from him.

"I just wanted to-" she didn't have the opportunity to finish, because he caught her around the waist and pulled her towards him, hugging her tightly. The young queen put one hand on his shoulder, the other stroking his head. She herself felt tears under her eyelids again.

"Why does this keep happening to us?" he asked, raising his head and looking at her from below. Aegon also desperately needed explanations that could help him digest the pain, but no one wanted to provide them to him. The girl touched his tear-stained cheek and wiped it off, shaking her head helplessly. She also didn't have an answer to the question that would haunt them for the next few weeks, months, maybe even years.

"I just wanted to be happy and have a loving family," he said, his voice breaking. "What did i do wrong?"

Y/N burst into tears again and sat on his lap, hugging him tightly. Aegon hugged her even tighter, ignoring her cloak and the smell of the night she brought with her into his chambers. At that moment, all he desperately needed was a little comfort and a silent assurance that everything would somehow work out.

She needed it, too.

Targaryens needed each other.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hello! First i loved the reader + cannibal works you did.

Second, you could write small or big idk pieces of reader and him having their bond and seeing others react to it. It would be funny to see some of them go "excusme this not high blood claimed CANNIBAL?"

And Cannibal just there like "its my human, shut up before i eat you"

Also, HC that Cannibal would totally take the reader to a different place since he finds the rest of humans so 🙄🙄🙄🙄 and 100% sure he was touched when reader bowed to him :,)

Cannibal will always be my favourite dragon, Balerion coming a close second but come on! A dragon who never had a rider cuz no one was worthy?! Imagine the history you’d make when claiming this absolute unit!

You wouldn’t say that you claimed Cannibal like most people have assumed, if anything you’d describe what you and the behemoth mad was more of a connection, a bond that went deeper then that of dragon and rider. It was rather difficult thing to explain to people because the only people who would understand had a hard time themselves coming to terms with the fact that someone without a single trace of Valyrian blood in their body had accomplished what many could not; claim Cannibal.

You truly believed that everyone had the ability to be a dragon rider but the unfortunate reality was that half of them ever would was incredibly rare. So for those that were dragon riders, it was the highest honour imaginable and you were now one of them!

Your bond with Cannibal was unlike any other, it was almost as if this spark, this fire, connecting the two of you to a point where you didn’t know when you began and where Cannibal ended. You could sense Cannibal’s distrust for all humans, especially those who had Valyrian blood running through their veins no matter how small it may be, he hated them all as equally as he did the other humans. With you however Cannibal harboured a deep possessiveness over you. You were his rider after all and he didn’t like it when people like Aemond, Daemond or Rhaenyra got anywhere within distance of you and would blow fire at them without an ounce of hesitation.

‘Cannibal.’ You hissed after Cannibal tried to roast Rhaenyra alive for merely touching your arm in congratulations. The dragon only kept his piercing green eyes on the silver haired woman in red next to you, looking at her with hostility and contempt.

‘It is..quite alright my dear.’ Rhaenyra tried to console you but the daggers your dragon was driving into her back was enough for her to take a step back, she had the blood of the dragon and therefore didn’t fear them but Cannibal was a dragon of unpredictability and therefore must be treated with caution. ‘No harm done.’ She flashes you a smile before departing back to the castle. You sighed before looking at your behemoth of a dragon whose eyes dilated upon seeing you finally pay attention to him, his tail wagging slightly behind him.

‘You are more than your worth sometimes.’ You murmur as you scratched his head before swiftly mounting him as he flew you both off of DragonStone and elsewhere where you wouldn’t be disturbed, but you couldn’t help but thank moments like those that were just for yourself and your dragon as you do tend to get tired of getting asked the same shit ten times over. Yet you swore you had claimed an antisocial cat instead of a dragon whose whole reputation was eating dragons, humans and dragon eggs alike. This was merely one example of how possessive Cannibal got, it was far worse when it was a man like Aemond, then that’s when Cannibal became far more hostile than usual.

For the moment the dragon saw the one eyed prince approach you, his tail immediately shielded you from view while roaring at the prince to fuck off back to his fossil of a dragon, huffing smoke from his nostrils and baring his teeth. ‘I’m going to call you Cannibal the cat if you keep this up.’ You told the dragon as you moved from behind his tail to greet Aemond, who was looking at Cannibal with an unreadable expression. ‘Fascinating.’ He muttered softly as he looked at you.

‘What is?’ You asked.

‘The fact that the first person to ever claim Cannibal is someone with no Valyrian blood nor ancestry to speak of.’ Aemond replied and you couldn’t help but scowl at this, feeling as though this was meant to be some sort of dig at you, but then again the joke was on him because he wasn’t the only one to ride with a dragon of legend anymore.

‘Can you blame me? I don’t rest dragons like their weapons to be used to threaten people in bending the knee.’ You spat back. ‘Sounds to me like you are compensating for the fact that you would’ve been viewed just like any other house in Westeros had it not been for the very Dragons you ride, and yet here you are, treating them as though their disposable while pondering why it maybe that their dying out.’ You added, staring Aemond down as his jaw twitched, you had struck a nerve but all you did in response to that was shrug your shoulders. ‘Sounds a bit hypocritical dont you think my prince?’

‘You know nothing of the word.’ Aemond said lowly as he stepped towards you, only to be greeted by Cannibal’s shadow looming over you both, lowering his head to glare at Aemond from behind you while you looked directly at the prince; unbothered and calm by the whole thing.

‘I wouldn’t but I’m sure your bloodline is more familiar with the misuse and treatment of Dragons than I am.’ You said, feeling no fear with Cannibal having your back, literally, as you looked back at your companion with a smile. ‘Let’s us go somewhere else Cannibal, I fear we may have overstayed our welcome.’ Cannibal only made a sound akin to that of purring and taking that as your que to bid Aemond farewell and mounted Cannibal once more and left.

You had Cannibal’s back and you knew he had yours as well and that’s what you prided your connection on, never had you ever known a more peaceful nights sleep, not until Cannibal draped a protective wing over you to keep you warm during those nights where you just wanted to stay beside your dragon as you cuddled into his warm scaly belly. Your heart and his were one and you feared that without Cannibal, you’d loose apart of yourself forever and you’d treasure every moment you had with your dragon, no matter what may come for either of you in the future.

Now for some character reactions;

Aegon shits himself. Enough said. He will not go near you especially if Cannibal was constantly on the verge of wanting to eat him whole.

He doesn’t care of how you claimed him like others would, he’s terrified of Cannibal and doesn’t want to stay for long enough than he had to, he’s not about that life despite the family he’s reluctantly born into.

Aemond on the other hand was intrigued on how you managed to do such a thing, it was feet unheard of and yet you did it and without being eaten on top of that.

He also would view this as something that was predestined by fate or something like that. You and him being the riders of the largest dragons left alive in Westeros, imagine the destructive force the pair of you would be if you were to be wed to one another. It’s a thought that hasn’t left his mind since the day you claimed Cannibal and while the bitterness of your words stung him, that didn’t mean he wasn’t about to put an end to his dreams of you and him flying together on Vhagar and Cannibal in happy union.

He’s delusional but a dangerous kind, so Cannibal is always on high alert with him.

Otto would try pull out all the stops and arrange a marriage between you and Aemond, feeding into his grandsons dangerous delusions, claiming that you were only this way to see whether or not he would love you at your most stubborn. Besides what’s greater than having one large dragon on your side? Two large dragons!

So Otto doesn’t care about how you claimed cannibal but only the benefits for the greens of you doing so would be enough to have Rhaenyra’s forced yield and pledge for Aegon or die fighting, either way works out for the greens in the end but all he needed to do was get you with Aemond.

Rhaenyra found you claiming Cannibal to be a once in a life time miracle as it wasn’t often that a dragon was claimed by someone who wasn’t a descent of Old Valyria. For you had to be truly something for a dragon as stubborn and dangerous as Cannibal to agree to be yours and knows of the target that you have placed on your back by doing so.

To put it simply, she wants you on her side of the war when the time comes as a last resort should she need you in her most dire of times. You and Cannibal had a connection unlike any other she has ever seen and that makes you an essential asset that everyone will want. She wanted to get to you before the greens do and will try her hardest but it would take some time considering how on guard Cannibal is to anyone who wasn’t you.

He knew what she was doing but with time she hoped that you would get Cannibal to understand because if she nor the greens couldn’t get to you, then there would be another level of uncertainty in knowing that a nomad dragon rider and their dragon were taking to the skies with leisure. You and Cannibal were a lot more dangerous than you may think and that’s what scared her the most; you not understand the power you now hold with cannibal at your beck and call.

Jacaerys thought that someone who wasn’t of Valyrian decent couldn’t claim a dragon nearly as successfully as those of Valyrian descent could. However you managed to defy all expectations that were previously set and proven that the impossible could be possible through the right circumstances.

He had so many questions on how you did it but Cannibal would always stop him and take you away before he could. He had read stories about cannibal and knew better then to hop on Vermax and chase after you, and so he would just allow his mind to ponder on how it was that you managed to claim Cannibal without being consumed.

He too feared the eyes that you have no attracted to yourself by doing such a thing and would try his best to protect you no matter what but Cannibal was proving it very difficult to get close to you without fire being out at him. However Jace was determined to make sure that no harm came to you, even if he had to do so from afar.

[floatyflowers]

Dark! House Of The Dragon x Game of Thrones! Reader|Part 2

<<<Part 1

Through the years spent at Dragonstone, you managed to strengthen your ties with your siblings, your mother, Baela and Daemon.

You even visit Rhaenys and Corlys, and became best of friends with Rhaena despite Rhaenyra feeling possessive of you leaving her side.

This is all necessary to keep strong connections with the Velaryons, knowing very well that Rhaenys and Corlys know that you and your siblings are not their son's children

You even wore House Velaryons color at all times to please them and it worked very well.

Rhaenys and Corlys even requested to stay with them at Driftmark but Daemon and Rhaenyra rejected the idea.

Strangely enough Queen Alicent and your grandsire request the same thing, but of course, they got the same reply.

Rhaenyra felt threatened by the idea of you leaving her side and wed you to Jace earlier then expected.

Rhaenyra sensed your nervousness at the wedding and hugged you in assurance.

"Don't worry, I will be with you every step of the way, my sweet girl"

She didn't know that you remembered yours and Robb's wedding.

Daemon and Rhaenyra agreed to have the wedding on Dragonstone in the old valyrian custom.

They didn't invite anyone except the family members on Dragonstone.

Viserys was disappointed but not more angry then Alicent who found offense.

It's not like she invited Rhaenyra to Aegon and Helaena's wedding anyways.

Or maybe she did, but your mother didn't want you anywhere near the Hightowers.

Rhaenys also held grudge against Rhaenyra for doing such a thing, meanwhile Corlys was furious as he wished for the wedding to be on Driftmark.

Aemond felt heartbroken and stopped writing to you while Aegon drank away his pain.

Meanwhile Luke felt a bit jealous as he kind of had a crush on you, and your other younger siblings just enjoyed the celebrations.

Daemon encouraged Jace to impregnate you and ignore Rhaenyra's advice against having babies early.

And when you announce your pregnancy, Rhaenyra became so fearful for your life.

Especially when she saw how weak you were during the pregnancy.

You reminded her of her mother, Aemma.

Her paronia reflected on Jacaerys and Lucerys, thinking that you might not make it.

Meanwhile, in reality, you weren't ill, you were sad, because you wished for Cersei to be here.

Despite what she did to your previous husband, but still, Cersei loved you and this was clear.

On your fifth month, Rhaenyra announces that she is also pregnant just so she can support you and ease your worries.

You and Jace already chose the names for the babies, if it was a boy he will be named Aenar, and if it's a girl, then she will name Aemma.

Luke and Joffrey chose the perfect egg for the baby from your dragon's clutch.

Baela would read you stories as to pass time while you stay in bed.

When you want into labour, the whole castle went in chaos to ensure you have a safe delivery.

Daemon threatened the maesters that if anything happens to you, he will feed them to Caraxes.

Jace was on his way to support you during labour, but when he arrived, you were already holding his daughter.

Everything was going on well, with your new small family.

Until your grandsire, Corlys fell ill, and Vaemond decided to question the legitimacy of you and your full brothers.

Part 3>>>

[freyaphoria]

hey luv!! not sure how much are you into 'spanking' but, I was wondering if you would make a reaction of Yan!Matz, Seonghwa catching you escape while Hj is not at home so Hwa spanks you/punishes you?👉👈

I know that Hwa would probably tell Hj but I would really like to see how Seonghwa would punish her😭

(btw i'm in love with ur stories, keep going and take some time to rest🖤)

a/n: When you sent me this request at night, I screamed and started writing at 4 a.m. This request may have opened up my writer's block thank you soooo much♡

Dark Side (partI)

tw: spanking, restriction with ropes, dragging, failed escape attempt, yandere!Seonghwa, hair pulling, kinda force feeding, hurt-comfort, punishment and aftercare, crying

wc: 3.7k

taglist: @aim-blossom @bambisd0ll @oddracha @peqchplvto

part 2 ->

Your hands trembled uncontrollably as you grasped the handle of the back door, your heart pounding with a mixture of fear and anticipation. How could they have been so careless as to leave it unlocked? The realization dawned on you as the cold air rushed in, caressing your face with its crisp touch. You stood there, frozen in disbelief, as the door swung open, revealing the vast expanse of the backyard and the towering pine trees that seemed to stretch endlessly into the horizon. This moment felt surreal, as if you were standing on the precipice of a new reality.

This was the first moment you found yourself so close to freedom. For the first time, you felt that escape was truly within reach, especially with Hongjoong away from the house. In a normal situation, you would have been settled on the couch watching TV while Seonghwa busied himself in the kitchen preparing dinner. But your mind was elsewhere, consumed by thoughts of escaping.

You thought about telling Seonghwa and escaping together. But what he told you yesterday showed that he was gradually deteriorating psychologically, that his admiration for Hongjoong had escalated to a concerning level, one that left you feeling uneasy about his willingness to escape alongside you. Convincing him to leave in that moment felt impossible. Maybe, in a few weeks, you could plant the seeds of doubt in his mind, but right now, it just wasn’t feasible. You simply could not let this opportunity slip away when it was right in front of you. When you came back with the police, you were going to save Seonghwa and put the evil in jail.

With each silent step towards the door, the possibility of freedom made your heart race even faster.Could you truly manage to escape? You had lost track of how long you had been trapped here, and you questioned your ability to readjust to the outside world after such a prolonged period of isolation. All these thoughts filled your veins with more adrenaline, and you could hear your heart beating.

You found yourself standing at the threshold, that thin line separating captivity from liberty. Instinctively, you glanced back, scanning for any sign that Seonghwa might have noticed your absence. You imagined the scenario if he had caught you: his gentle voice calling out, "Angel, come here," followed by report to Hongjoong. But to your relief, there was no sign of him. You were alone, unobserved, with the path to freedom clear before you.

Your foot made contact with the small marble stone at the entrance of the garden, its cold surface sending a shiver through your body, it was a sensation both foreign and familiar. You started to walk quickly and felt that soft grass beneath your feet that you hadn't felt in weeks, maybe months. You moved quickly through the garden, the taste of freedom already filling your spirit. The ability to move without fear, without the looming threat of Hongjoong, was intoxicating. But there was something you missed: The kitchen window looked out onto the backyard.

When Seonghwa saw you speeding through the backyard, he muttered a curse under his breath and quickly left the kitchen. The back door hung wide open, a reminder that he had forgotten to close it when he stepped out earlier to tend to the flowers. Seonghwa was shocked to see you walking past the edge of the yard and heading towards the thick forest nearby. He knew he was in big trouble. The thought of Hongjoong returning home in this moment made his stomach drop; if he found both of you outside, he would kill both of you. Seonghwa knew he had to go after you. Hongjoong had told him to do whatever it took to keep you here while he was gone.

He didn't call out to you, thinking that if he called out to you, you would panic and start running faster. Instead, he ran towards you silently but quickly, his footsteps muffled by the soft grass beneath. Your heart raced in your chest, and your breaths came in quick bursts, anxiety coursing through your veins. In an instant, Seonghwa was upon you. He lunged forward, wrapping his arms around your waist, and with a forceful motion, he threw you down onto the soft grass. The air was knocked from your lungs as you hit the ground, and confusion set in.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Seonghwa's voice was sharp and raw with emotion as he positioned himself over you, pinning your arms to the sides, using his body weight to keep you down. His eyes, normally warm and inviting, now showed both anger and distress, with his messy hair falling over his forehead from the effort of chasing you. The sudden aggression from the usually calm Seonghwa caught you off guard, causing you to instinctively lash out. Your legs flailed wildly as you attempted to kick him off, your mind momentarily confusing him with Hongjoong in your panicked state. "Are you out of your mind?! Did you think you could escape that easily?!" Seonghwa's grip tightened as he shouted, one of his hands released your arm, only to grasp your face roughly, his fingers digging into your cheeks. "Seonghwa, what are you doing?! You’re the one who’s out of your mind!" you cried out, struggling against his iron grip. "Let me go! Your voice grew higher with panic. Seonghwa, out of breath, kept holding you down and grew frustrated trying to make you understand the seriousness of the situation. Your pleas seemed to fall on deaf ears.

"Let you go?" he scoffed, his voice dripping with disbelief. "What do you mean by let you go?" His hand released your face, only to seize your arm once more as he began to forcibly drag you back towards the house. "Don't you understand? You belong to me just as much as you do to Hongjoong. Did you think I’d just let you escape from us?!”

His words hit you like a jolt. You had never witnessed this side of Seonghwa before—so unyielding and forceful—but amidst the chaos, fear for your safety was absent. You thought you still had time before Hongjoong arrived to learn your escape attempt and avoid the fallout, and that Seonghwa would save you from Hongjoong's ruthless punishment. But in that moment, you couldn't have been more wrong.

Your arm throbbed with pain as you struggled against Seonghwa's iron grip, his strength far beyond what you had imagined. "Seonghwa! Please, it hurts!" you cried out, your voice laced with desperation. As he forcefully dragged you across the ground, your clothes caught on the rough terrain, tearing and collecting smears of grass and dirt. "Shut up, you asked for this!" he barked back, his tone sharp and harsh, devoid of any hint of sympathy or concern, as if he were completely indifferent to your suffering.

The journey home was too quick, and you realized you couldn’t get very far. As soon as you reached home, he threw you to the ground, knocking the air out of your lungs. Seonghwa then slammed the door with a force that echoed through the house. You winced, rubbing your sore arm from his tight grip. "I can't believe you," Seonghwa's voice cut through the air, harsh and devoid of its usual warmth. It was as if the gentle Seonghwa you knew had vanished, replaced by a doppelganger channeling Hongjoong's ruthlessness. "I thought I could trust you. I thought I didn't need to watch you 24/7." He closed the distance between you and knelt down, his hand gripping your hair, pulling your head up to meet his gaze. "But I was wrong," he said, his voice heavy with rage. Fear crept into your spine as he hovered over you, in this moment, he seemed even more terrifying than Hongjoong. While Hongjoong's actions were often predictable in their cruelty, Seonghwa now resembled a ticking time bomb, leaving you uncertain of when or how he might explode.

"Seonghwa, why are you so angry—" you began, but he cut you off. “You ran,” he said, tightening his grip on your hair until it became painful. You squirmed, desperate for the agony to cease. “I'm sorry!” you cried out, your hands fumbling to loosen his grip. “I didn’t ask if you were fucking sorry,” he retorted, his tone deeper, more menacing than you had ever heard. Fear began to course through your veins, your heart pounding wildly in your chest.

Seonghwa was thinking about what he would do to you; he stared at you with a stern expression, his mind racing with worries about what could happen next. If he told Hongjoong about your attempt to escape, he would face serious consequences, especially since the escape happened because of his own mistake. He might even risk damaging his relationship with Hongjoong. After a moment of thought, Seonghwa decided it was best to deal with the situation on his own and not inform Hongjoong.

His jaw tightened as he watched you tremble more and more with fear. "Get up," he commanded, finally releasing his grip on your hair. "Hwa-" you started to protest, but he cut you off sharply. "Get up and go to the basement." Your eyes widened in disbelief and fear. The basement? Seonghwa had never before demanded such a thing from you. "What are you saying-" you stammered, only to be interrupted once more. "If you want to keep this from reaching Hongjoong, you'll go to the basement. Now!" he snapped, urgency dripping from his words.

You began a slow, hesitant walk towards the stairs, but Seonghwa's patience had evidently worn thin; he forcefully shoved you down, your feet stumbling to maintain balance as he flung open the heavy metal door. The chill of the basement air hit you like a wall, and the darkness felt heavy.

You dared not speak; his demeanor had changed to someone frightening and dominant, similar to Hongjoong when he's stern. Seonghwa closed the door behind you, the sound echoing loudly, and then grabbed your arm, pulling you toward an old couch in the dimly lit room. With Hongjoong still hours away from returning home, you realized how vulnerable you were. Seonghwa had the power to do whatever he wanted with you during this time, without anyone to stop him or even make a peep about it, sent a shiver down your spine. The basement suddenly felt more stifling than ever, closing in around you as you faced the unknown intentions of this new, frightening version of Seonghwa.

He settled into the couch, an aura of dominance radiating from him. Just as you were about to ask him what he was going to do, he yanked you onto his lap, positioning you face down with his knees pressing into your stomach. "Seonghwa! What the hell do you think you’re doing?" Panic filled your voice, but he was unfazed. In a swift motion, he tore off your already tattered shorts, fabric ripping as though it were paper. The moment you opened your mouth to protest further, he silenced you by crumpling your shorts and stuffing part of them into your mouth. You were taken aback, the fabric blocking your protest. Your hands instinctively went to remove the makeshift gag, but before you could, he seized both of your arms and bound them tightly behind your back with a rope you couldn’t even begin to fathom where he had found it. Now, you found yourself in a vulnerable position—sitting on his lap, face down, your backside fully exposed while your shorts muffled any cries for help. With your arms securely tied, you could do nothing but wait in confusion and dread for whatever he had planned next. The rush of blood to your cheeks was overwhelming as you squirmed, trying to regain some semblance of control, but he had you pinned, and the ropes tightened with every movement you made.

“Let’s get this over with before Hongjoong shows up,” he murmured with a hint of urgency, “I can’t have him finding out it was my fault the door was left open.” With that, he grasped the sides of your panties, adjusting them with a deliberate slowness that sent shivers down your spine, fully revealing your exposed skin. You wriggled slightly, desperation creeping in, but his grip was unyielding, and he quickly absorbed your resistance. His warm hand glided across your backside, gently at first, before suddenly delivering a sharp slap that echoed off the walls of the room. A muffled scream escaped your mouth as the pain shot through you—both a shock and a burn that lingered. He began to rub the spot he had just slapped, the gentle caress contrasting harshly with the sting. Each time you attempted to shift away, he would pull you back down into position, maintaining control over you.

“Hongjoong won't know about your little escape attempt or that I’m punishing you. Do you understand?" His words were firm, filled with a mix of warning and authority. The heat of embarrassment surged up your neck and across your face as you tried to understand what was happening. It was all too much. When the next slap landed, intensifying the throbbing pain in your ass cheek, you flinched involuntarily, mixing fear and humiliation. “Understood?” he repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument. You nodded frantically. “Good girl. Now be a good little girl and accept your punishment.” Each blow that followed wasn’t just a physical hit but a toll on your spirit, the redness spreading across your skin becoming unbearable as tears threatened to spill.

"How many steps did you take outside? Fifteen? Twenty?" His grip didn’t loosen as he began to cup and rub your sore skin, contrasting sharply with the pain he had just caused. When he finally removed the fabric from your mouth, you coughed and struggled to catch your breath. His hands were soon back on your skin, delivering another loud slap, the echo causing your heart to race. “I asked you a question!” The authority mixed with anger in his voice had you trembling; you felt completely vulnerable and utterly at his mercy. “I-I don’t know!” you stammered, desperation clawing at your insides as the pain continued to radiate. “Give me a number or I’ll treat you as if you took a hundred steps and punish you accordingly.”

It all clicked into focus—he intended to deliver a spanking for every step you confessed to taking outside. Panic washed over you as you scrambled for a response, understanding that each number corresponded to another blow. “Maybe… eight? Nine? Hwa, I’m so sorry! I promise it won’t happen again!” You winced as another strike landed hard, pain surging through your entire body. A shrill scream burst from your lips, tears streaming down your face as you felt utterly broken. “You can’t even make it to the basement door in eight steps! You definitely took at least twenty.” The realization of how many more strikes you would have to endure set in, fear gripping you tightly. “Seonghwa, please! It hurts!” You could feel the ropes digging into your wrists as you writhed in discomfort, helpless under his control. “Count!” His voice was steady but filled with a tone that no longer held any traces of affection. There was now a different Seonghwa standing before you, far removed from the person you once knew. The Seonghwa that Hongjoong had molded through his rigorous training and relentless expectations had emerged, bearing the marks of his newfound identity. Park Seonghwa, with his warmth and kindness, was a ghost of the past, replaced entirely by Kim Seonghwa, terrifying and merciless, with traces of Hongjoong in his personality.

"I'll take it as four so far. Count from here. But if you miss, you start over."

You were lying down with a cold compress pressed against your swollen eyes, a result of the tears that had flowed so freely just moments before. Your eyes were puffy and red, and the ice was meant to numb the sting and reduce the swelling and since you couldn’t sit down, you were lying down and eating the fruits that Seonghwa had prepared for you to comfort you and apologize in his own way, which he forced into your mouth even though you shook your head as no. Your favorite show flickered on the TV screen, providing a backdrop to the tense atmosphere. Your head rested in Seonghwa's lap, his hands multitasking - one soothingly rubbing your back while the other continued to offer forkfuls of juicy peach to your lips. The silence between you was palpable; you hadn't uttered a word since the punishment, your last spoken syllable being the final count of "twenty."

There was about an hour until Hongjoong arrived and in that hour, you both had to put everything back to how it was and act like nothing had happened. You could find an excuse for crying, but you didn't know what excuse to come up with for not being able to sit at the dinner table. After Seonghwa finished shoving the last remaining slice of peach in your mouth, the taste still lingering, he tenderly caressed your hair, leaning down to plant a gentle kiss on your head. “I need to get back to making dinner before he arrives. Can you manage to stay by yourself for a bit?” You didn’t respond; silence enveloped the space between you, your gaze fixed on the TV screen, your mind hardly registering anything at all. The sharp, burning sensation in your lower body remained, a reminder of everything.

"Angel, please say something. You're making me worry," Seonghwa said, his voice filled with concern. You looked at him and saw his worried eyes and guilt. You reminded yourself that Seonghwa was just following orders and his feelings were shaped by manipulation. He was just doing his job and wasn’t to blame for this situation; he was a victim of Hongjoong's manipulation too. You knew running away would lead to punishment, and you had indeed been punished harshly. Your feelings towards Seonghwa were complicated; you weren’t really angry with him, more so upset by the dynamics that had forced you both into this situation. Yet, the tension was thick in the air. If only he had chosen to overlook your escape, perhaps downplaying it with a simple warning 'not to do it again'. However, that wasn’t Seonghwa’s way. His sense of duty drove him to enforce the rules. The thought of what Hongjoong might do if he discovered your escape hung over you like a dark cloud. Past punishments had left scars—physical and emotional—and the fear of more severe consequences loomed large over you.

“Seonghwa?” you finally broke the silence, your gaze still intensely focused on him. “You won’t tell Hongjoong, right?” Fear crept into your voice as the thought of another punishment sent chills through your spine. Your body was still recovering, aching from the last punishment, and the thought of enduring more pain was unbearable. "As long as you don't make it obvious, I won't have to tell him," Seonghwa assured you. You understood the implication - if Hongjoong sensed anything amiss, there would be no stopping him from digging deeper, and Seonghwa, unable to bear the weight of it all, would be compelled to share everything that had happened. You found yourself desperate to maintain a façade, aware that any hint of suspicion could unravel everything. Despite the persistent pain, you knew you had to summon the strength to act as though nothing was amiss - to sit through dinner and participate in whatever activities Hongjoong might propose afterward.

Seonghwa gently took your hands, examining your wrists and massaging them softly. "There are no visible marks here," he observed, placing a kiss on each wrist before carefully returning them to your sides. "You should rest now. If dinner isn't ready when he arrives, he'll grow suspicious." With careful precision, he lifted your head from his lap, placing a pillow beneath it before kissing your forehead once more. “If you need anything at all, just call out, and I’ll be right there,” he promised, his tone filled with a warmth that contrasted sharply with the icy fear that gripped your heart. If only Hongjoong could show just a fraction of that care. Even when he punished you, if he could take the time to heal the wounds he inflicted and offer a shred of comfort, perhaps you wouldn’t harbor such deep-seated resentment towards him.

This was the first time you saw Seonghwa’s dark side and the first time you witnessed Seonghwa's darker nature, and it filled you with a deep sense of fear that you had never felt before. Up until this moment, you had held onto the belief that he might be an ally in your desperate situation, someone who could empathize with you. After all, Seonghwa himself had been a victim of that crazy bastard, just like you. You once thought that if a chance arose for escape, he would be the person to help you, or at the very least, he would choose to ignore your attempts to flee. However, that hopeful perspective began to shatter before your eyes.When he caught you trying to escape and forcefully pulled you back into the house, you still clung to the flicker of hope that perhaps he would guide you to safety. Maybe he would suggest taking the front entrance. But after telling you to go to the basement and punishing you for almost an hour - because you forgot what number you were at halfway through and started over - you realized that Seonghwa was actually just like Hongjoong, only more merciful. And as your idea of running away with him was completely ruined. The realization that you had to tread carefully around Seonghwa was a harsh lesson learned, leaving you feeling more trapped than ever in this nightmarish reality.

Part 2 ->

[bunnyrafe]

𓊆ྀིhow father figure bf!rafe & soft pogue!reader met…and some bits ‘n pieces of their first time being naughty, of course.𓊇ྀི

content / warnings -> 18, MDNI. 600 f!reader, age gap, fooling around in public, daddy kink.

“Haven’t seen you around here before.”

Rafe Cameron’s voice falls on your ears and makes you jump like startled kitten. He’s leaning over the bar with an empty scotch glass in his hand, eyeing you carefully. Almost like he could eat you alive if you make one wrong move…

It’s understandable thats he’s never seen you when you’ve barely left The Cut before. You never had a reason to, but now that you’ve been forced to get a job, the easiest place to run to was The Island Club.

Serving drinks to kooks and dirty old men in a little tennis skirt is not how you want to spend your days, but if it keeps a roof over your head you can’t complain.

“It’s, um— my first day…” Your response is quiet. You’re afraid to look him in the eye— you’ve always been demure, especially around people who were born into status on the island.

You’re sure all he sees is another pogue. A derelict. After all you’ve heard he’s the newly crowned king of Figure 8 now, whatever that’s supposed to mean… but Rafe doesn’t see that in you at all as he examines your smaller form, and the way your hands shake as you polish pint glasses.

Instead he sees a sweet girl with beaten up sneakers. A girl who’s in need of guidance and a warm environment to drown herself in, in need of someone strong and dependable in her life. You need to be held at night, and to be swept away from The Cut and plopped right into his mansion…

“Right.” Rafe sniffs once, as if he’s trying to clear his head.

And he is, because he’s sure you’re freshly twenty-one while he’s thirty and getting older every damn day…

That day you both left it at that.

But lucky for you, that’s the first of your many interactions with Rafe Cameron. Most days he’s talkative, asking random questions about your upbringing and hogging all of your attention at the bar for himself. Some days he’s grumpier than others— doesn’t even look at you while he grumbles what he wants and gulps it down a single moment later.

It’s always scotch. Or whiskey. Or bourbon.

Until one night it isn’t and suddenly all he wants is you alone. No chaser. He’s yanking you into the staff only bathroom with a harsh grip on your arm that has you whining like a wounded animal in the hallway. You can’t help but wonder how many times he’s done this before with other servers that were just as naive as you seem to be.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he groans against your already spit slick lips, lifting you up onto the counter in one swift movement, “Haven’t been able to stop thinking about you and this little skirt, even when I’m fuckin’ working.”

“Do you say that to every girl you drag in here to fuck?” You whisper back, trying to rile him up but also fearing the brutal reality of it all. Since, at the end of the day, you’re fucking around with the man who can get whatever he want.

“Watch that pretty mouth of yours,” he snarls. His palms run along your soft thighs, helping you spread them even more to make room for him between your legs. You cling to him when his hand snakes down the front of your cute panties, gasping while he mumbles against your heated cheek, “Daddy doesn’t wanna be harsh on you so soon.”

“Daddy—” you choke the title out in utter disbelief, with your eyes fluttering shut and rolling back into your head just as his rough fingers rub over your clit in teasing circles, forcing your whole body to lean into him for more.

“That’s it, angel.”

He coos the words to you, determined to make you return to your closing shift with messy panties and the taste of him lingering in your mouth… “Already s’good for me.”

©BUNNYRAFE 2024

[sakur4ii]

Rooted Connections Pt.2

Charles Xavier x Reader x Erik Lensherr

the gender of the reader is not specified

Note: I will not make a third part, I hope you like it. Also reminder that English is not my first language, let me know if there are any mistakes I didn't notice (especially with pronouns).

Summary: feelings come out, plants love romance and you are still as blind as in the first part.

Finally, peace.

After supposedly saving the future from great chaos, Charles decided to reopen the doors of his school, offering you to stay with him. You accepted because you didn't want to leave him alone, feeling his sadness through the earth. Although in reality, he wasn’t alone; he now had his students, but the connection the three of you had created was so strong that you feared that if you also left, he would break again.

Years have passed, and now the school is full, and you are a teacher.

You walk through the halls, searching for something, maybe someone, though you’re not sure. The mansion’s plants have warned you but haven’t specified anything, so you proceed cautiously, trying to find some intruder.

"Professor Y/N,” you hear, a voice you know well.

“What is it, Jean?” You turn around; you can’t see her clearly, but you can feel her nerves and hear her heart beating faster than usual.

“Someone is approaching from the backyard.”

Before she finishes speaking, you are already running to the backyard. The plants don’t want to reveal anything, and for some reason, you don’t feel any unusual presence, leading you to assume that the earth doesn’t want you to know who the intruder is on purpose.

Once your bare feet touch the green, damp grass, you stop feeling the presence of everyone at the school except for the person sitting on the grass a few feet away from you, and Charles, who is coming up behind you.

You take slow steps toward the seated person, hearing a gasp behind you. You sit down next to him and wait for Charles to come closer until he is on the other side of the man.

“What are you doing here, Erik?” Charles asks. You can feel his conflicting emotions through his voice. On one hand, he is happy to see him again and that it isn’t to stop him from killing all of humanity and condemning mutants. On the other hand, he’d love to punch him again for prioritizing revenge and abandoning him.

But you focus more on the absolute pain you feel from Erik through the earth. You can feel him mourning, yet also very angry, seeking comfort to avoid vengeance.

When Charles doesn’t receive any response, and you can assume he also starts to feel the man’s emotions, you wrap your arm around Erik’s shoulders, pulling him into a side hug, enough for him to start crying.

“I tried,” he sobs into your neck, while Charles sits on the ground, leaving the chair aside and firmly holding Erik’s hand between his own. “I tried to live like them, to blend in, and they… they killed my wife and daughter.”

You don’t know what to say; you don’t know how to comfort him with words, so you just rub his back. You know Charles is afraid of saying something wrong, something that will only make the situation worse, so both of you remain silent, comforting your old friend (and the third missing piece of the puzzle) through gentle touches.

“I didn’t know where else to go… you’re all I have left.”

-------------------------------------------------------

You weren’t born blind; you had the privilege of seeing the color of the sky and vegetation. You had the privilege of having a favorite color, but an accident occurred, and it was no longer worth thinking about things like a favorite book or a favorite flower because you couldn’t see anything anymore.

Plants are very talkative; they always have been. They love to gossip, and they love drama. The day before the accident, they were very hysterical, sensing something bad was coming, but they couldn’t say what.

Then the accident happened, and you were hospitalized. The plants felt guilty, apologizing over and over, even the plants you didn’t know but who knew you, apologizing and feeling ashamed that they hadn’t been useful, that they couldn’t prevent the tragedy.

It was when you lost your sight that your powers began to manifest: control of the earth, the ability to feel through it. Your mentors were the plants, the trees, and the earth itself. You learned that you could see through the roots of trees, and that was an easy way to find something or someone.

When you met Charles, even before the man arrived at your house, the plants were more talkative than usual. They told you everything they knew, like how Logan was from the future and needed help, your help. But they mostly talked about Professor X and a puzzle. You couldn’t understand them, but their excitement amused you.

When they freed Erik from that cell, the plants began talking non-stop again, once more about a supposed puzzle and Erik’s entire life, about how angry they were with some of his actions but how much they appreciated him.

The first time they fell completely silent was when Erik shot Raven; the second was when Erik fled to avoid being captured.

The third time you didn’t understand the silence; you were listening to Charles reading to his younger students, and out of nowhere, the plants fell silent, a mourning silence.

And the fourth time was the day after the third when Erik appeared unannounced at the school. Although it was more for drama—did I mention they are dramatic?

Erik stayed at the school, purposely obtaining the room that was between yours and Charles’.

If before the plants always talked about Charles, Erik, and his family and the children at school, now, whenever you entered your room, they only talked about Charles and Erik. You only heard about the children if you went outside.

A couple of years have passed. Erik is visibly better, happier, and that makes you happy because it’s real, he’s not pretending, and you’re the first to know that.

-------------------------------------------------------

Your room is a madhouse; you feel like you’re losing your sanity. They won’t stop talking about how handsome, intelligent, and kind Charles is, or how hot, serious, and cunning Erik is. They have the audacity to tease you for not being able to see them, those bitches. When did they go from remorse to mockery?

“What time is it?” you ask, tired, sitting on the edge of your bed while putting on your sunglasses. They all ignore you, except for some jasmine flowers Charles gave you for your birthday along with some heart-shaped sunglasses.

You leave the room, grateful for the silence the hallway plants give you. You don’t know what to do; maybe you’ll go to the kitchen and eat some ice cream, you’re not sure.

When you arrive at the kitchen and take out a tub of ice cream and a spoon, you’re surprised that no plant has told you not to eat something so cold in the middle of the night, raising your suspicions.

You focus on the earth, sensing how all the children and adults are sleeping, everyone except Xavier and Lensherr, which makes you sigh tiredly.

Lately, the plants not only wouldn’t stop talking about them, but they also did everything possible to ensure you spent most of your time in the same room with them, and you only complied because deep down, you wanted that too.

You finish the ice cream and walk through the halls to Charles’ office, without any obstacles in the way (the children make sure not to leave anything lying around that might hinder you, even though they know you could easily avoid it; they fear you might get distracted and have an accident).

—“Come in”— you hear in your head, making you jump in place, and some nearby flowers laugh.

You open the door, and for some reason, they’re both sitting on a three-seater couch. Charles’ wheelchair is set aside to not get in the way, and the plants laugh conspiratorially.

«Speak of the devil…» a flower murmurs, sparking your curiosity.

“Can’t sleep?” Xavier asks. You shake your head. The other man is silent; you know he’s watching you, his intense gaze on you. Sometimes you think he has the power to read souls and keeps it a secret.

Charles laughs at your thought, but you don’t notice him elbowing Erik to stop being so obvious.

“Come sit with us, darling.”

The flowers and plants in the room react as if the pet name was directed at them, as if expressing what you don’t dare express even in your own head for fear the telepath might discover your feelings.

Smiling, you approach the couch. Erik, the closest to you, takes your hand and guides you to sit between them.

“What were you talking about?” you ask.

“Nothing important; we were just planning to take the older kids on a field trip, maybe,” Charles responds, and you know he’s not lying, but from the booing of the plants, you can tell that wasn’t what they were discussing before you arrived.

Erik remains silent; you can’t figure out why. Lately, you can’t sense his feelings, only his emotions, and you can guess that the earth is hiding them on purpose—or maybe the metal?

What you do sense is his knee brushing against yours and his gaze trying not to linger on you for too long.

You tilt your head to one side, sharpening your hearing, trying to pick up something more; you don’t know what, but you want to hear all their movements and, above all, the beating of their hearts.

Just when you perfectly hear their rapid heartbeats, the plants start making a ruckus, making you frown.

“What’s wrong?” Erik finally speaks.

“Why don’t the plants want me to hear your heartbeats?”

Unbeknownst to you, Erik and Charles share a wide-eyed look of complicity.

—“We should tell her”— Erik.

—“Now?”— Charles.

The silence between the two men creates a lump in your throat. Since that day on the plane, you felt like you were missing something in the dynamic, all because you couldn’t see. You felt out of place in moments like these, where they might be communicating with just a glance—or worse, telepathically. You hated the thought that they were having secret conversations, thinking that they were using the fact that you couldn't see to communicate in secret. And you hated knowing they were communicating because you could feel the change in emotions through the ground, but what you hated even more was that now you couldn't even feel the emotions of the two men because nature decided to turn its back on you this time.

Tired, you get up from the couch.

"Sorry for interrupting your time alone, I'm going to bed."

You avoid the obstacles you can't feel now but know are there.

"Y/N, no, wait! It's not what you think, let me explain," Charles says, while Erik gets up and runs towards you, grabbing you so you won't escape (and without you knowing, preventing you from bumping into the closed door).

"Listen to them, listen to them, listen to them," the plants chant in unison as you squirm in his grip. The earth allows you to see through your feet again, finally letting you feel the emotions of the two men, which makes you stop struggling and fall into shock at what you're sensing.

"You two are in love," you whisper.

Erik leads you back to the couch and sits you down so that you're facing the telepath, while he hugs you from behind and hides his face in the crook of your neck. He's embarrassed.

Charles gently removes your sunglasses, and you can feel his emotions not just through the ground but also inside your head. He takes your hand in his.

"We’ve been debating whether or not to tell you; we didn't know how you'd react, darling."

"So much secrecy just to tell me you two are dating? I'm not homophobic if that's what you were worried about," you say with an amused smile.

You're sure both men are rolling their eyes.

«Don't be an idiot» a flower says.

"Shush."

Charles laughs while Erik raises an eyebrow in a questioning manner towards him, knowing he's missing something.

"We're not just dating, Y/N. We love you as much as we love each other, and we want you to be a part of what we have because you're the missing piece of the puzzle," says Charles.

"And we want you to be officially ours," adds Erik.

Their words take you by surprise, making your heart race a thousand miles an hour. You're sure you're blushing, and loose words echo in your head.

The missing piece of the puzzle... ha... that sounds familiar.

At some point during the evening, you moved to Erik's room (the one furthest from the other rooms, with only one flower that you gave him a long time ago), where you shared kisses, hugs, words, and feelings. Where you expressed the great love you share, making grand plans for the future. And where you realized that you never were out of place; rather, you had always been missing, so they could feel complete.

The End.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

@djlnkaled @kindlover @only-nope @larissa1379 👋❤️

[ahqkas]

Mattheo with gf! Reader who spaces out a lot due to her adhd. Sometimes it comes to an extant where mattheo had to either pat her shoulder to snap her out or either snap his fingers lightly in his face. Of course mattheo would glare at anyone who would snap rather rudely at his gf.

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

MATTHEO HAD ALWAYS KNOWN THERE WAS SOMETHING DIFFERENT ABOUT YOU. it wasn’t just your infectious laughter that warmed his heart or the way your eyes sparkled when you talked about something you loved. it was the way you would suddenly drift off into your own world, leaving conversations mid-sentence or losing track of what you were doing. at first, it puzzled him, but as he got to know you better, he understood it was part of your ADHD. it was just another piece of you that he adored.

one afternoon, the two of you were in the hogwarts’ library. the ancient room was filled with the soft sound of rustling pages and the faint smell of old books. you were seated across from your boyfriend, a pile of textbooks and parchment spread out before you as you tried to study for your upcoming transfiguration exam. mattheo was deep in a particularly dense herbology textbook when he looked up and saw you staring blankly at the high arched ceiling. your quill was frozen in mid-air, a tiny blot of ink spreading slowly across the parchment.

he watched you for a moment, noticing the way your eyes seemed to be far away from this land, distant and unfocused from the task before you. with a hint of a gentle smile, the slytherin boy reached across the table and tapped your hand with his index finger. “hey,” he said softly as you blinked a few times, your gaze snapping back to his. “where’d you go, angel?” he teased, a playful glint in his eyes.

you sighed and returned the small smile back to him. “sorry, i was just . . . somewhere else.”

mattheo chuckled and enveloped your hand with his before you felt a light squeeze on top of it. “no need to apologize. just wanted to make sure you were still with me.” he gave you an encouraging nod, full of understanding. you adored your sweet boy to pieces, especially with how gentle he was with you. the complete opposite of how he was with others.

later that day, during defense against the dark arts, professor snape was explaining a complex counter-curse. you were diligently taking notes when your mind started to wander again. the professor’s voice became a distant hum, and your thoughts drifted to the quidditch match next weekend. mattheo was a beater on the team, a fact that filled you with both pride and a bit of anxiety. you couldn't help but picture him out on the pitch, his muscles rippling under the tight quidditch robes as he swung his bat with a strength and power that was mesmerizing to watch.

you imagined the way his dark curls would cling to his forehead, damp with sweat, and the intense concentration etched on his face as he scanned the field for any bludgers that could be considered a threat to the promised victory of the slytherin house. you could already hear the cheers of the crowd, the roar of excitement that accompanied every successful hit. your boyfriend was as feared as adored.

as you continued to daydream, a warm hand gently touched your shoulder, snapping you back to the reality. mattheo’s dark irises met yours with a mix of concern and amusement dancing in their depths. he had been watching you space out, a small, knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips when he recognized what was going on.

“you okay?” he asked quietly, his lingering hand tracing its path down your shoulder.

you gave him a nod, feeling a bit embarrassed. how could you manage to live like this? with a boyfriend like that? merlin, you needed a release. “yeah, just spaced out again.”

the said boyfriend offered you a reassuring smirk, along with a knowing glint on his face. “it’s okay. just stay with me, alright?” he gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze before turning back to his notes.

the final bell of the day rang, and you both made your way to the great hall for dinner. the long tables were crowded with students and meals, the clatter of silverware and the buzz of conversation instantly filling the room. you sat down next to mattheo, who immediately started piling food onto your plate, knowing that you often forgot to eat when you were preoccupied. a bit of this and a bit of that, exactly like you liked, before he moved to help himself to tons of food as well.

and as you ate, your mind started to drift, again. although this time, it was the flickering candles above that captured your attention. the way they floated and swayed to the atmosphere of the hall was mesmerizing to you. suddenly, you felt a gentle nudge against your side and when you ripped your gaze away from those lights, mattheo was looking at you with that same smirk plastered on his lips.

“earth to [name],” he said, snapping his fingers lightly in front of your face to emphasize his words.

you shook your head, blinking as you refocused on him. “sorry, i was just . . .”

“mesmerized by the candles,” he finished for you, his smile widening. “i know. they are pretty cool.”

you laughed, feeling your heart swell with the affection you held towards your sweet boy. he always seemed to know exactly what to say to make you feel better. but not everyone was as understanding. a few seats down, you heard a student mutter something about “space cadets” and “daydreamers.” before you could react, mattheo’s expression darkened and his soft smile shifted into a deep scowl. he turned towards the student, his eyes blazing with protectiveness and anger.

“got something to say?” he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

the student paled and quickly shook his head. “no, nothing,” he mumbled, looking away. mattheo was known to not be messed with and the student didn’t possess a death wish for now.

your boyfriend turned back to you, his expression softening instantly. “ignore them,” he said, reaching out to take your hand in his, the warmth providing you with the needed comfort.

you smiled, squeezing his hand in return. “thank you.”

the night went on and the two of you retreated to the common room. the fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting a warm glow over the room as you curled up on the couch with a book, while mattheo sat beside you, his arm draped over the back of the couch. every so often, he would glance over at you and the book in your lap, drinking the written words in like it was water.

at one point, you felt yourself starting to drift off again, the words on the page blurring together. before you could get too far, the slytherin boy gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch instantly bringing you back.

“you still with me?”

you nodded, leaning into his touch. “yeah, i’m here.”

“good. because i’m not going anywhere.”

in that moment, you realized just how lucky you were to have someone like mattheo riddle in your life. someone who understood you, who accepted you for who you were, and who was always there to bring you back when you drifted away. and you knew that, no matter what, he would always be there, watching over you with that same loving gaze as you would watch over him with.

[heechwe]

midnight faith | 𝐩𝐣𝐬

୨୧ pairing: park jongseong (jay) x fem!reader ୨୧ word count: 2.5K ୨୧ genre: fluff, semi-angst, smut ୨୧ tags: werewolf!jay, established relationship, pet names (darling, sweetheart, etc.), biting, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, knotting, creampie, cock stuffing, breeding kink ୨୧ synopsis: You know his history and where he comes from, both being huge factors that affect your current relationship, but all you care about is your future together. ➸ banner created by @hobeemin ♡

The grass surrounding the blanket underneath your back prickles your ankles. Jay sits crisscrossed next to you, observing the way the sunlight peers through the forest trees and paints your skin. His breath goes in and out in uneven increments, and you open one eye to look at your boyfriend. You’ve had your eyes closed for the past ten minutes, focusing on Jay and all he had to tell you about his history, pre-werewolf and all. The boy is practically shaking at the fact you haven’t responded to any of it, but with a smirk, you reply, “So it really isn’t just caused by a bite?”

Both of you laugh, the sound reverberating around your patch of grass. In relief, Jay sinks to a resting position on his stomach beside you and props his chin on your chest. “Yeah, that’s not exactly how that story goes. Well, at least for me it didn’t.”

You run your fingers through his hair. “So it was a genetic thing?”

He nods. “My parents thought maybe it would skip a generation since my grandfather didn’t inherit it from his father. Sadly for them, I came home after some party scared as all hell, wondering why the fuck I had claws and this desire to run on all fours.” 

You giggle as Jay takes one of your hands into his and kisses your knuckles. “After a while, I learned how to control the shift, but I shut myself away from everyone, especially my parents. Because of them, it was this huge rush to understand myself, my abilities, and my family’s history. The one thing I couldn’t get over then was that it wasn’t a choice. It was always something I was born with.

“But, it’s all in the past now.” Jay sighs and presses his cheek to your stomach.

“Well, parts of it are. But, Seongie, it still gets to you and affects how you are around people. Sometimes, you act like everyone’s fragile when you’re around, like you won’t be able to control your impulses or actions, so you don’t let yourself truly be yourself. Including me.”

He looks back up to you, recognizing the truth in your words. “I try not to,” he whispers, moving so your faces are at eye level, his lips an inch away. “I just don’t want to hurt anyone, especially not you.” Pain flashes over his features, too strong for him to ignore. “I don’t fear a lot of things, but the possibility I could harm you scares the fuck out of me.”

The vulnerability Jay can often hide so well is written all over him. His hands shake and his bottom lip is tucked between his teeth, but it only takes the well of tears in his eyes to strike a knife through your chest. Your boyfriend may be a supernatural creature, but it wouldn’t take a genius to see the guy’s immense capacity for kindness. The way his eyes widened in fear when he shook your father’s hand when they first met, the whispers of a lullaby he sang to your sister’s newborn daughter when you had to babysit her, and his adorable fascination with tiny animals prove all of his fears will never become a reality. “Baby, you don’t have a harmful bone in your body. You may have impulses as a wolf, but there’s no way you would hurt someone on purpose.” The wind brushes through the trees as you speak, barely covering the tremble in your voice. “And you would never hurt me.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because you wouldn’t be so scared if you didn’t love me, and I love you enough to know all the fear is in your head. You just have to trust yourself.” 

You brush your mouth against him, and the sound of the wind in the brush and the heat of the sun ebbs away. Your reassurance and touch ease his worries until it’s only you and Jay, nestled against a soft blanket away from the world and lost in each other with the soft collide of each other’s lips and tongues.

Jay grunts and backs away from you, a heady expression flashing across his eyes.

Breathless, you reach for his hand. “Is that what you meant by hurting me?”

He nods, saying your name while trying to slow down the fast pace of his heartbeat. “I love you, and I never want to hurt you, but what if I didn’t mean to? I mean, I can’t even kiss you without feeling like I’m losing control. How could I make love to you?”

You shake your head and reach for him, his body and yours coming into contact instantly.

“Because we trust each other, and we use that trust to know and respect our limits. If you’re scared, we stop. If I don’t like something, I'll tell you.” You smile, nipping at his lips with a quick peck. “Besides, I wouldn’t mind losing control with you. I feel that way with you a lot of the time anyway.”

Jay chuckles and kisses you, rendering you breathless. “God, what am I gonna do with you?” 

It sounds more like a statement than a question when it leaves his lips, but you grin regardless. “A lot of things, I hope. Right now, I just want you to kiss me some more.”

And as Jay lies you down onto the blanket with his mouth attached to yours and quickly trailing down your neck, you listen to the sound of his breath and the trickles of the river, forgetting his fears the longer he holds you in his arms.

The moonlight bathes your bedroom in blue shadows, the color of Jay’s brown eyes more hypnotic than ever before. His bare chest quietly heaves up and down, unsure of where to start first. Shaky hands hold your waist against him, too scared to venture further than where they are at in the current moment.

Standing in front of him now, underwear-clad and more sure of him than he is in himself, you kiss him to quell his fears. You hope the act is as reassuring as it feels. “I trust you,” you promise him.

He nods, his lips turning at the corners despite what anxieties still linger in his body. You kiss him harder, dissipating what is left of his resolve. He wraps his arms tighter around you, nails digging into the small of your back when you press your tongue inside of his mouth.

Jay takes his lips from yours, his breath ragged. “If anything is too much,” he says, “you have to tell me.”

“Cross my heart,” you tease, but sincerity is still present in your tone.

Suddenly, he lifts you up and wraps your legs around his waist, the act knocking the wind out of your lungs. Half a dozen kisses meet the column of your throat before Jay bites down on the skin. He sucks and licks at the pieces he’s bitten, marking you for himself as he lays you down gently onto the bed.

You can barely think straight as he rips the material of your bra off of you in a quick motion, the sounds of the seams ripping apart hitting your ears. He inhales a shaky breath, mesmerized by the swell of your breasts under the cover of nightfall.

“You’re so breathtaking, you know that?” Jay phrases it more as a statement than a question. You blush and try to hide your face with your hands, but he takes your palms in his instead. “You don’t have to hide from me.”

Your heart clenches. “Neither do you.” You sit up to take his face in your hands, kissing both of his cheeks before once again meeting your mouth with his.

A low rumble emits from his throat, the groan shooting to the space between your legs. You moan into his mouth, taking one of his hands and pressing it to the cotton covering your clit.

“I want you this much because I trust you, Seongie.”

He mumbles out a curse. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You’re not going to. Please,” you say, dipping his hand inside your underwear to feel the pooing wetness. “I need you to touch me.”

Without warning, his eyes glow a bright hazel in the darkness of your bedroom. The hunger he’s tried so long to suppress seems to come over him in a wave. His hands press you back down into the mattress and his face comes into contact with your underwear. You can feel his breath against your center, and you want more than anything for him to bury his mouth there and leave you a mess in the sheets.

“Jongseong,” you call out, “please.”

He smirks and takes his hands to the corners of your underwear to yank them down. Not violently, but with a serious edge that takes you back. Where was the shy boy that you began the night with?

“Use your words, pet,” Jay demands with a growl.

“Put your mouth on me, please.”

“That’s better.” The cool temperature of your room on your body is replaced by Jay’s tongue, the man you love licking lavishly between your folds. You’re unsure how he’s never done this before when he knows exactly how to make you buck your hips into his awaiting mouth. He’s already so perfectly in tune with your body, knowing when to take time away from your pussy to swirl his tongue around your clit. 

Moans and gasps leave you in quick succession. Your hand buries itself in his hair, and he continues to growl and groan into your center to make you shake even harder.

“I know you’re close, my love. Don’t hold back on me now.” He takes a second to kiss the insides of your thighs before diving back into your pussy. With a long swipe of his mouth from your perineal to your clit, you cry out as your orgasm washes over you.

You take your hand from Jay’s hair when you come down, wiping the sweat off of your forehead with a laugh. “That was–”

Jay smirks and bites his bottom lip. “I’m not done with you yet, pet.” He presses your lips against his, the taste of you filling your mouth when he slips his tongue inside. “Flip over for me.”

You do as he commands as he takes both his jeans and briefs off quickly. By the time he pushes your hips back against him, his cock brushes against your entrance and the wetness from your previous release.

“Fuck,” he whispers, letting himself be coated in your arousal before moving any further. He loves the feeling of your body wiggling against his for any kind of friction, your legs spent and weakened from the pleasure you just received. But he’s going to love it even more when he feels you wrapped around him fully. “Ready, my love?”

“Yes,” you gasp.

Sliding inside of you is so easy with your earlier slick, causing garbled moans to leave both of your mouths at the same time. Jay chastises himself for waiting this long to be intimate with you knowing now how exquisite it feels to have your walls pulsing around him, welcoming his body like he was always meant to be there. Around you, inside of you, calling him yours.

He begins a slow rhythm, thrusting in and out at a comfortable pace, He laces his fingers with yours, wondering how he was so lucky to find someone so understanding, so beautiful, so patient. Anyone else would not have been so stubborn to cut through the many walls he put up, but he’s grateful to have found you who was willing to do the work so effortlessly.

These thoughts make any sense of uncertainty dissipate completely. And in doing so, his control loosens and desire heightens to an unfathomable degree as he watches your body ease up and down his cock.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Jay curses, his length swelling to the point he cannot think about anything but your pulsing walls around him. His body is locked to yours, this cock cinched to the point he knows it’s too late to slow down or stop. He had only ever heard of this prior with his brothers and friends who also shared his genetic disposition. But now, knowing it isn’t just a myth and he has no control until he fully releases inside of you, he has never been more turned on in his life.

Knowing he’ll fall apart inside of you, make you as swollen as he feels, is enough for him to come then and there. But Jay knows depriving you of a second orgasm when you’re this close would be cruel. And he’s anything but a cruel person.

He pounds harder into you and wraps an arm around you to find your clit with his fingers, rubbing the bud tenderly. It’s an insatiable mixture of heady and delicate; so intimate you wish you could kiss him while he thrusts deeply from behind you.

“Seongie, I’m so close.”

“Me too, my love. I could stay here all night,” he grunts his beautiful, filthy words into the space between you, the sounds accompanied by the meeting of your bodies. “You want that too, don’t you? Want to be filled up with nothing but my cum, belonging to nobody but me, huh?”

“Y-yes, more than anything,” you confess, loving the intimacy of his explicitness.

“So dirty for me. So perfect.” He kisses the center of your back as he continues to plow mercilessly into you.

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna–” You have no time to finish your sentence as the second release floods your senses, the feeling in your body as bright as the moonlight and heavy as the sweat coating both of your bodies.

You barely have time to recover as Jay also comes a few seconds after, bottoming out as he releases. He refuses to let any of his cum go to waste, continuing to thrust inside of you in spite of your sensitivity. You mumble about it being too much and for him to pull out soon, but he’s focused on making sure none of him spills out.

When he’s satisfied, he releases you and lets you fall onto the comforter of your bed, spent and exhausted.

You giggle as he places kisses all over your sweaty face. “Jay, please.”

“What? I can’t kiss you now?” He asks, burying his face in your neck.

“You can when I’m not gross.”

“I think you’ve never looked more beautiful.” He grabs your palm and kisses each finger individually.

“Stop it,” you say, bashful. Jay knows you know it’s true, though. How could he not think so, completely in love and satisfied with your body filled with nothing but him?

He wraps the both of you in your blankets, his chest against your back. He’s never felt closer to you than in this moment, and he could not ask for more.

Well, besides another round in the morning.

“I love you,” he says before falling asleep nestled close to you.

“I love you too, babe,” you respond, feeling the thrum of his heartbeat and the glow of the moonlight as your eyelids close.

@mini-mews @jayparked @yoursjaeyun @sungbeams @jenoslutie @loserlvrss

𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 ౨ৎ˚₊

@kvanity-main @sweetvenomnet @onedoornet @sayxonet @violetanet @svthub @whipped-kpop-creators

[mystic-writings]

ink on skin | daryl dixon

PAIRING — daryl dixon x fem!soulmate!reader

REQUEST — anon — hello! could you do an angsty story with daryl dixon? fem reader please <3 

SUMMARY — daryl gave up on the concept of soulmates long ago, even with the words marked on his wrist. and then he found you.

WARNINGS — canon-typical scenarios, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, soulmate au

WORD COUNT — 3,573

NOTES — this was supposed to be part of a really long collection of prompt drabbles from years ago but i found it in my docs and turned it into something a lot longer <3 it’s not the best (i couldn't for the life of me work out a good ending), but i think this might be one of my faves i’ve written bc of how poetic the first few paragraphs are 

masterlist | navigation | requests are open!

Daryl gave up on the concept of soulmates long before the world ended. He gave up on it when he was just a boy, when his mother died and his father stopped showing love. When he was told by his peers, his brother, his father, that no one would ever want him to stay with them, because he just wouldn’t be wanted by anyone. 

He grew to loathe the words on his wrist from a very young age. He did everything he could to cover them — makeup he stole from his aunt, long-sleeved shirts, bracelets, you name it. He’d even gotten used to not glancing at the ink scribed on his left wrist, making sure that no matter what, his eyes never fell on them. 

But even when he hated the words that sat there, waiting to be spoken by someone who cared, someone who wanted him, he couldn’t deny the countless nights he spent awake, tracing each letter and imagining what his soulmate’s voice sounded like. How would they say those three little words? What would they look like? When would he meet them? 

Daryl missed the feeling of being wanted. He only ever felt it when he was with his mother, when he was a young boy who didn’t know anything but that the sky was blue and soulmates were real and his father was mean. He hasn’t felt wanted — truly wanted — for a long, long time, not even when he found the group. 

Over time, with the loathing came the forgetting of the words marked on his wrist. By the time the world ended, Daryl had almost completely abandoned the reality of having a soulmate, and he rarely ever thought about it. In fact, he felt some relief in the fact that the world had ended. The chances of him finding ‘the one’ had lowered significantly now that most of the population was undead, and he had no reason to worry about being better for someone just to make it seem like he was worth loving anymore. 

For almost three years, he lived with the relief of likely not having a soulmate anymore. 

Today was an ordinary day, especially for the Alexandrians. At least, it seemed like an ordinary day. The sun was shining, people were milling around, crops were growing. But underneath the surface was something that no one wanted to address. Fear. 

Negan was beginning his wrath on the community that could barely keep itself alive. He demanded supplies, and he demanded a lot of them. So, half of Daryl’s people had gone out on runs to look for stuff. Food, clothes, medicine, whatever they could bring back. Daryl was among that group, taking a car as opposed to his motorbike and going to a high school with Carol.

At first, he volunteered to go alone, but she reasoned with him. It was too big of an area for him to cover on his own, she said. He could get hurt, or worse. And it was Carol, how could he deny her? She was his best friend, after all. So, Daryl drove in silence, Carol in the passenger seat, staring curiously at him. 

The feeling of her eyes on his annoyed him to no end, and eventually, the archer caved. 

“There somethin’ on my face or wha’?”

“Nothing,” Carol chirped. “Just… thinking.” 

“‘Bout wha’?” Daryl asked, sparing a glance at the woman. 

Carol shrugged, eyeing her friend. “About those words, on your arm.” 

Daryl tensed, shifting his posture to hopefully hide them from Carol’s view. “And?”

“Well, they’re not gone, for one.” She stated, a lilt in her voice. “And they’re… interesting first words for a soulmate, don’t you think?”

“How am I supposed ta know? I ain’t never seen anyone else’s tattoos. And it ain’t like I got a good chance of meetin’ ‘em, with all this shit goin’ on.” Daryl grumbled, watching Carol shrug and avert her gaze, looking ahead at the road. 

“Just saying… I wouldn’t give up hope, Daryl.” 

How would Carol know whether or not he should give up hope? Sure, she’d been the person closest to him aside from Rick, but even she knew nothing about his soulmate. Hell, he was still trying to figure out how she knew exactly what words marked his wrist. Still, he shook the thoughts from his head and continued the drive in silence, as though nothing had been spoken between the pair. 

Somehow, the high school Daryl and Carol had arrived at seemed to be completely abandoned. 

There were no walkers roaming around outside the grounds, most of the windows were intact, and the parking lot was practically void of cars. It was a small town, but from what Daryl could remember of the high schools they’d driven past or looted during their time at the prison, he figured most high schools in small towns — like this one, in particular — would’ve been turned into aid camps for refugees. 

Even with no signs of life, Carol and Daryl kept their weapons up as they entered through the main doors. 

Flashlight beams swept over every inch of the school, and it became clear as to why there were no walkers. Rotting bodies littered the linoleum floors, dried blood splattered over tile and wall and metal lockers. A stench that the pair had, unfortunately, gotten used to, permeated the air, filling their guts with a permanent feeling of nausea. 

The first place they’d found was the nurse’s office, and while there wasn’t much in the way of medicines, there were supplies that Alexandria was lacking. Gauze, tension wraps, bandaids, generic over the counter medicines like ibuprofen and Gravol. Whatever was left, Carol loaded into the backpack she’d brought, filling it to the brim with what they found. 

“Cafeteria should be this way,” she nodded down the hall, flashlight sweeping across the path before they exited. 

Passing by empty classroom after empty classroom, Daryl said, “Migh’ need some of this stuff for later, when the kids get older, ya know? Be good for ‘em to learn.” 

“Yeah, it would be,” Carol nodded, eyes landing on a set of double doors to her right. “Maybe we’ll come back for all that stuff later.” 

Daryl grunted in affirmation, about to push the cafeteria door open with his shoulder. He paused as a loud thump echoed down the hall. His eyes flashed, followed by the beam of his flashlight, landing on a singular closed door, a plastic chair propped under the handle. 

“Leave it,” Carol advised. “It’s just a walker.” 

Daryl nodded, but his eyes lingered on the door for a moment. Deciding to leave it be, he pushed the cafeteria door open, finding it empty yet again. The pair crossed the large area to the hot table, where they could already see some canned goods lying about on the tables. 

“If there were people here,” Carol began, “why wouldn’t they have taken the food with them when they left?”

“Why’s that matter?” Daryl asked, propping his crossbow against the wall and pulling out his knife. He knelt by the door to the kitchen, putting his flashlight down and wedging the blade between the frame. “‘S more for us, ‘s all that matters. Don’ gotta question everythin’,” 

Carol said nothing, keeping her flashlight trained on the door for Daryl to use as extra light. 

After prying open the door, the pair used a cart to transport the mounds of large, sealed canned goods. With Carol pulling and Daryl pushing, they’d made quick work of the first two trips they needed to make, loading their trunk as best as they were able. 

On their way out of the third and final trip, Carol held the cafeteria door open as Daryl pushed the half-full cart, stopping abruptly as the door started to swing shut behind him. 

“What? What is it?”

“I hear somethin’,” Daryl muttered, straining his ears to listen for the noise again. He listened for what felt like decades, and just when he thought he was going crazy, he heard it again. “There,”

“What? I didn’t hear anything,” Carol said. 

“Nah, I heard it. Comin’ from this way,” he gestured down the part of the hall they hadn’t bothered exploring. Slowly, focused entirely on identifying the noise, Daryl crept down the hall, a confused Carol following him. 

Just as he’d been passing the room with the chair blocking the door, Daryl heard two sounds: a dull thunk, and a hiccuping cry. He stopped, turning to the door that had drawn his attention before. 

“Daryl, it’s just a walker,” Carol insisted. “Let’s go, we got what we need.” 

The archer didn’t listen, footfalls nearly silent against the linoleum as he approached the door, knife raised. In quick motions, Daryl pulled the chair from the door, sending it down the hall with a resounding screech, grabbing at the handle and pulling it open. The hinges squeaked as he peered within the dark, small room — a supply closet, he’d discerned from the cleaning products lining the shelves. All sense of danger left him when he wasn’t met with a walker, but instead a girl, her body half-laying, half-sitting, propped against the wall. 

Daryl’s eyes widened, taking in her form. She was covered head to toe in dirt and grime, save for the clear tear tracks down her cheeks and neck. Her hair was matted, and the side of her calf, just above the ankle, was wrapped in dirtied bandages. Her only protection was a small knife, covered in dried blood, the handle of which rested in her limp hand. 

“Holy shit,” Daryl blurted, catching the attention of Carol, but barely gaining acknowledgement from the girl before him. 

Carol, peeking over Daryl’s shoulder, moved first. She darted around the archer’s broad frame, kneeling down at the girl’s calf. Peeling the bandage from her skin, Carol sighed in relief, finding a deep gash where she feared there might have been a bite mark. “She’s hurt,” Carol remarked, moving closer to search for a pulse. “And barely alive.” 

“Go bring the cart out, I’ll carry her out,” Daryl’s eyes never left the girl’s form as Carol left. Carefully, he scooped the girl into his arms, relief flooding him when a weak, protesting groan fell from her chapped lips.

There was no telling how long she’d been stuck in that closet, without food or water, simply left to die. And based on the chair propped against the door… it had been intentional. 

Daryl carried her to the car with ease, having Carol assist him as he laid you across the back seat, taking the time to make sure she would be secure as they drove. After confirming that everything was packed into the trunk, Daryl peeled out of the school parking lot, the drive back to Alexandria being much shorter than the one to the school. 

The sun was setting when the car passed the gates, and from there, things passed in a flurry of motion. Daryl carried the girl to the infirmary himself, watching Tara and Denise move about hastily to heal this mystery woman. 

“What happened to her?” Denise asked, cutting the bandage from her ankle. 

“Dunno,” Daryl huffed. “Found her like tha’. Musta been trapped for a while. Few days without water, at least.”

Denise only nodded, working to clean the wound and stitch it. She barely had the focus to think about the wound itself, how deep it was and the likelihood of infection setting in. Tara worked at cleaning the girl’s skin, inserting an IV into her hand like she’d been taught. 

The sun had set by the time they were done, the girl changed into new clothes and her skin cleaned of grime. Tara had been sitting by her side when Daryl came back to the infirmary, after going to the Grimes home to eat something and give as much information as he could to Rick and Michonne. 

“How’s she doin’?”

“As good as she can,” Tara smiled awkwardly. “I don’t think she’ll be waking up anytime soon, she’s like— super dehydrated. It’s been an hour and I’ve had to change the bag thingy twice already.”

Daryl grunted in acknowledgement, pulling up a chair on the other side of the girl’s bedside. He didn’t know much about her — or anything, really, not even her name — but even with her chapped lips and sickly look, he thought she was beautiful. And he also knew that whoever had left her in that closet had done so on purpose. He figured it might have been because of her injury, but it was cruel no matter which way he tried to paint it. 

He just hoped she’d be okay when she woke up. 

It took the mystery girl three days to wake up. Managing her health at a time where there weren’t any real supplies to use had been difficult, and it took all of Denise’s focus to make sure she had enough fluids. 

Waking up in an unfamiliar, oddly clean, room, on a bed, with no stench of rotting bodies wafting through the air was confusing, terrifying, and oddly comforting. 

Your body woke with a jolt, eyes snapping open like you’d woken from a nightmare of sorts. There was movement to your right, and you jumped back from it, frantic eyes finding a blonde girl attempting to calm you without touching you as best as she was able. 

“Hey, hey, you’re okay, you’re safe.” She’d said, stressing the last word. “One of our guys found you in a supply closet and brought you here. He— He said you were half dead.” 

Pure fear and confusion kept your mouth shut. The girl kept talking, asking questions, but you couldn’t bring yourself to respond to any of it. The pain in your leg hadn’t been of any help, pulsing and throbbing with every slight movement. 

By the time she’d realized you weren’t going to respond, she sighed and moved over to the kitchen to your right. When she came back, she placed some food and a tall glass of water on the bedside table, backing away slowly as she spoke. “I’m Denise. The man who found you, Daryl, is on his way to see you. Maybe you’ll feel more comfortable talking to him?”

The idea of speaking to anyone, even the man you vaguely remember before passing out due to dehydration, made your stomach roll. Still, you picked up the plate, gratefully digging into the food you were given. Drinking the water, you relished the feeling of it sliding down your throat. Water was something you hadn’t had in what felt like years, and you’d be damned if you didn’t cherish what you’d been given. 

As you finished up, the door creaked open, and your body stiffened. You watched a burly, reserved man step inside, his movements hesitant. You watched Denise approach, whispering something to him — likely about you. Presuming this was Daryl, you willed yourself to relax, even as you pulled your knees tight to your chest, arms locked around them. 

You watched him approach the bedside, standing awkwardly beside you as you looked into his eyes. Strikingly blue, surprisingly soft. 

“Hey. Ya alright?” He asked. His voice was rough, southern accent awfully thick. But his words sounded soft, somehow. Small. Like he was trying not to frighten you. 

All you could manage was a nod. He huffed, nodding back, clearly somewhat relieved that you were at least communicating somehow. You kept your eyes on him, tracing every inch of his face and his clothes. It was clear to you, though you were unsure of how, that he must’ve been built for this world. Daryl seemed out of place in this clean, crisp, white room, and when you pictured him in the woods, he seemed to blend right in. 

After a moment, he turned and went back to talk to Denise. They spoke in hushed whispers, and you thought back to the exchange you’d just had. Your mind had been reeling, so caught up in the entire situation, that the words Daryl had spoken didn’t register. And neither did the tingling across the inside of your wrist. 

Pulling down the sleeve of your shirt, your fingers grazed at the skin where the words you’d been waiting your whole life for the right person to say used to be. With wide eyes, you found the words gone, replaced by a slight scar of where they had once been inscribed. It was surreal, and definitely not the time. 

“Hey,” Daryl called out as he came to stand beside you again, voice still soft despite its natural roughness. “Doc said ya can leave if ya want. I know ya don’t know me, but if ya want… ya can stay with me. I got a cot ya can sleep on, if yer okay with tha’,” 

You mustered up a small smile, nodding at the man before you — your soulmate. You’d been wishing to find him your entire life, but with the world ending, you put that aspiration aside. You certainly hadn’t expected to find him when you were at the brink of death, trapped by the selfish people you’d once considered family. 

Carefully, you slipped out from the blankets, stumbling as you put weight on your injured leg. Luckily, Daryl caught you, wrapping an arm around your waist as the other guided your arm to rest around his neck. Wordlessly, you watched his cheeks flush red as he shifted his weight before you began walking. 

It was painful, getting to the house he lived in. Not because of your leg, but because of the proximity. Along with the fact that you couldn’t bring yourself to speak a single word, not even to him. 

As you settled into the large basement room he’d taken, he told you more about the community, about his people. The ones who lived here — Rick, Michonne, Carl, and Judith — were family to him. The others were the same, but they all lived in different homes. He laid out the cot as you sat on the bed, watching intently as his voice reverberated around the room, rattling your heart in your chest. 

“I know ya don’t talk much,” he huffed, rooting through a bag of his and pulling something out. “But ya can write, right?”

You nodded, watching a smile play on his lips as he handed you a notepad and pen. 

“Can ya tell me yer name, at least? So we can call ya somethin’ that ain’t jus’ ‘girl’?”

Smiling, you wrote out your name and handed the paper back to him. Your smile widened when you heard him say your name, meeting his eyes as he looked back up at you. 

“Ya can talk, right?” You nodded. 

Daryl nodded, leaving the pen and paper with you, just in case. “‘M gonna go find Rick, tell him yer stayin’ with me fer now. Alright?”

The thought of Daryl leaving you, of being alone, in an unfamiliar place, with no light aside from the window at the very top of the wall, shocked the fear back into you. As he turned, heading for the door that led to the stairs, your breath caught in your throat. As quickly as you were able, you reached out, grabbing the man’s wrist and pulling him back to face you. 

“Please, don’t leave.” You whispered, voice gravelly and strained. It surprised even you, eyes widening as you met Daryl’s gaze. But his carried a certain fear as his eyes tore from your own, locking onto the wrist you’d caught. 

Following his line of sight, your heart stuttered, watching the ink on his arm begin to fade into his skin, into the same imprinted scar of words that you had. 

“Yer…” he breathed, eyes filling with tears.

“Yeah,” you whispered, eyes watering, watching him as his eyes remained on his wrist. “Your soulmate.” 

Daryl pulled his wrist from your delicate hold, his mind on overdrive. He’d thought it ironic, that the apocalypse had only pushed him closer to his soulmate instead of further apart. And now, the words he’d been desperate to cover throughout his life were finally gone, and the woman that the universe decided was meant for him was sitting on his bed, saved from the cusp of death because of him. All because he couldn’t take his mind off the closet with the chair blocking the door. 

His hand came to his wrist, rubbing at the skin that was no longer tainted with words he thought would never be spoken. And despite all of the fear Daryl carried with him over the years, the gratefulness he had for the apocalypse and the relief that he’d never have to let down his soulmate when they saw that he wasn’t good enough for them, he felt none of it when he looked at you. 

All he could feel was happy. Relief, not that the world had ended, but that you were safe and healthy. 

And, all of a sudden, meeting your eyes, Daryl was okay with the idea of having a soulmate. All the words that had been spat his way growing up, all the times he was desperate to pretend like he didn’t have a soulmate didn’t matter anymore. All that mattered was you. 

It would take time for Daryl to feel like he deserved you, he knew that. But you were here, and you were alive. That was enough for now.

Forever taglist: @mazerunnerrose @theboldandthebootyful @miraclesoflove @heliads

Daryl Dixon taglist: @katrina765 @hp-hogwartsexpress @ellablossom @alexxavicry @avabh12 (open!)

taglist form here!

[sainzproductions]

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐨 ⋆ 𝐜. 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐳

THE OTHER WOMAN / SEQUEL !

where you acclimate to the current dating scene after eight years of being with carlos...

liked by lewishamilton, charles_leclerc and others

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↶*ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊ-

You felt like you had done a good job all by yourself. You took your sweet time getting used to being alone again, having spent the better part of the past decade accompanying carlos and living together with him.

As embarassing as it was to admit, there were days where you'd wake up abruptly as if hearing his footsteps, or the faint rumble of his voice lulling you to sleep. There were moments where you'd break down crying upon seeing an article of clothing belonging to carlos, or seeing pictures when you were still happily together.

It wasn't easy to forget an eight year relationship. You soon realized. He was all you've ever known and adored... You dreamt a life with the guy for crying out out loud!

You wanted all the permanent things, the domestic future, him.

But the reality was that you were different people who wanted starkly different things in life. Carlos was set on his career while you had the burden of being a woman. You didn't have forever to waste away, and you didn't want to spend it waiting for a future that could never be in the stars for you and him.

You had accepted it. It wasn't all tears, and tearful reminiscing anyways. Your life had picked up after a couple of weeks. It was a lie. You spent a month and a half being pathetic. But who was counting?

You were having the time of your life. Your singleness provided a way for you to realize new and old hobbies.

You finally went back to your hometown, despite your fears of facing your parents' knowing looks and getting an ill timed i told you so's from their ever skeptic way of seeing life. Especially your relationship with Carlos..

But your mother took one look at you; in your deshieveled and devastated form, wordlessly opening her arms and craddling your pathetic self as you wept about your broken heart.

You found peace in the tranquility of your childhood home. Reacquainting yourself with your horse, champion whom you had been neglecting— you realize belatedly. The help couldn't take the horses out that much, where you formerly took the stallion out for most of the day. You made sure to make up for lost time however.

You were also able to rekindle old friendships, quickly becoming fast friends once again as if no time had passed at all. You traipsed all over Madrid, enjoying the thrill of meeting new people, of learning new things... And how forward the current dating scene seemed to be in regards to matters concerning...

"Wait, wait." You press a hand towards his broad chest, breathing roughly. Your chest rose and fell with excitement as you tried to come down from how fast the things had quickly become heated between the two of you. "We're going a bit too fast, don't you think?" You whine under your breath, as his face came down to press open mouthed kisses on your neck, easily finding your most sensitive spot as he expertly manouvers your body, backing you up against the wall.

"Relax. We won't do anything you don't want." He says, softening his tone, "I'm not a hooligan." He tuts, pressing a feather like kiss on the side of your lips.

"Says the man who pulled me into a dark room to play tonsil tennis." You retort amusedly, stroking your fingers on his neck. You couldn't help but close your eyes at the sensation of his lips against your skin, his fingers making quick work of slipping under your skirt, and you hissed from the sensation of his cold rings against your thighs, "You're cold!"

"Warm me up then, love." He was evidently amused by your reactions and the way your cheeks flushed at his crude remark. He wiped away every other thought from your mind, as he kisses you wantonly. He made sure to hold your gaze as he pulls away, sinking down to his knees... and kissing your thighs softly. "Beautiful. So fucking beautiful. I couldn't think of anything else when you walked into the room. Nobody else mattered but you... you're bad for my business, darling."

You could hardly register anything else after that

↶*ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊ-

The breakup came with the long forgotten territory of male attention. Sure, there were some bold and uncaring lads few and far between, but Carlos had quickly shut down every attempt with a swift glare and a possesive hand over you. You didn't mind. You only needed him and his attention and everyone else were merely annoying backnoise.

As it is, your breakup was made public through the urging of Carlos' management and his public relations team. You cooperated seamlessly despite being civil, to the point of rudeness, to their every demand.

How ironic was it that through his blatant act of wanting to separate himself from you and everything else that had to do with you; he made a declaration to the world that you were readily available.

Your dms were sure packed to the brim when you'd later had the energy to do anything asides from the basic tasks of taking care of yourself. You couldn't laugh nor cry upon seeing several of carlos' work acquaintances making their presence known in your dms. You even saw his former (and possibly current) teammates taking their shot.

You couldn't help but wonder for how long has he been... Non committal towards his best mates about your real score. They couldn't possibly muster up the courage had it been the true duration of your separation. Men aren't that proactive. They atleast had some base sense of loyalty.

Then again, it didn't take very long for him to be spotted with some model on his arm. He looked happy, invigorated... Annoyingly handsome. Fuck him and his perfect face. You wished you atleast threw a heel at him for being a dickwad.

Were you seeing other people out of spite or trying to prove yourself to him? You wouldn't exactly say so. You'd had an agreement with the well established, and good looking gentleman who had made you tremble and writhe under his tongue. He was incredibly lax and cool, and great company in every sense of the word. He made you laugh, he also made you cry just now.

And so while you made yourselves look presentable, you were first out the door while he waited a few minutes to make his entrance into the party again. You gratefully took a flute of champagne from a passing waiter, wetting your parched throat as you looked around as normally as you could. Blending in with the fancy people in their cocktail dresses and designers.

You heard footsteps approaching after a few moments. Another man spotted him, and he grinned in recognition upon the sight of the ever famous....

"Sir Hamilton!"

[herstoryheaven]

Descendants Harry Hook x Reader: Lost and Found on The Isle

Prompt: Y/N escapes her cruel life in Auradon and finds herself on the Isle of the Lost, where she unexpectedly finds love and acceptance among villains, especially in the arms of a certain pirate.

Reader: Female

Word count: 1250

Average reading time: 4 min 35 sec

Category: Hurt/Comfort

Warning: This story contains themes of isolation, harassment, emotional distress, and the challenges of feeling like an outsider. If you are sensitive to these topics, please read with care.

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Disclaimer: All events portrayed in my stories are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events is purely coincidental. Any actions or behaviours portrayed by the characters may differ from reality and cannot be connected to any actual person. This work is purely fictional and intended for entertainment purposes only.

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In a world filled with royals, in a place called Auradon, where everything seemed perfect on the surface, lived a girl named Y/N. Her life, however, was far from ideal. Treated as an outcast and burdened by the cruelty of her peers, Y/N felt like a shadow amongst the vibrant crowd. The isolation weighed heavily on her, and she longed for escape a place where she might find acceptance and a sense of belonging.

One stormy night, Y/N made her decision. She packed a few belongings and slipped away, her heart pounding with a mixture of fear and hope. Her destination? Well... The Isle of the Lost, the dark and dangerous place where Auradon’s discarded villains and their children resided. It was a risky move, but it was her last chance in the hope of finding something different.

As she arrived, the Isle lived up to its reputation. The streets were grimy, the buildings crooked, and the people suspicious. Y/N’s fear only grew with each step. She was an outsider in a world that didn’t welcome her. Wandering through the streets, she found herself cornered by a group of rough-looking guys. Their intentions were clear, and Y/N's heart raced with panic.

Just as the situation grew tense, a loud sound cut through the tension. Uma, the fierce sea witch and leader of the Isle’s pirate crew, emerged from the shadows, followed closely by her loyal crew members Harry Hook and Gil. Uma’s commanding presence and Harry’s rough charm quickly got rid of the threat, and the attackers scattered like roaches under a spotlight.

Y/N’s knees buckled, and she fell to the ground. Harry, with his signature smirk, approached her, his eyes softening ever so slightly when he saw her terrified state. Uma looked on with a mix of curiosity and amusement, while Gil hovered nearby, ever-ready to support his friends.

“Didn’t expect to find a damsel in distress tonight,” he said, his voice a smooth, low rumble. He extended a hand to her, which Y/N hesitantly took. “Name’s Harry Hook. And these fine pirates are Uma and Gil. You’re safe now.”

“Thank you,” Y/N whispered, her voice trembling.

Uma’s eyes sparkled with amusement as she gestured to the group. “Come on, let’s get you somewhere safe.”

In the safety of Uma’s hideout, Y/N felt a strange sense of relief mingled with anxiety. The Isle was rough, but it was also intriguing. Harry, in particular, couldn’t keep his eyes off her. He noticed the way she flinched at sudden movements and how her gaze darted around nervously.

Over the next few weeks, Harry and Y/N grew closer. They spent time together exploring the Isle, and Harry, with his charismatic pirate charm, showed Y/N the hidden wonders of their world, the secret hideaways and the beauty behind the grim facade. One evening, as they strolled along the mist covered docks, Harry casually slipped his arm around Y/N’s waist. She stiffened at first but then relaxed into his touch, a blush spreading across her cheeks.

Harry’s lips curved into a mischievous smile. “You know, darling, this place looks a bit more enchanting with you by my side.”

Y/N chuckled softly, leaning into him. “You always know how to make everything sound so content, so perfect.”

Harry’s eyes sparkled with affection as he leaned in closer. “That’s because with you, everything is perfect.”

One day, while Y/N was wandering alone, a gang of troublemakers started to harass her. They advanced with menacing grins, no trace of remorse for what they are about to do, and Y/N's heart pounded in her chest. Just as she was about to give in to the panic filling her chest. Harry appeared, his expression fierce. He pushed through the crowd, his protective stance clear as he positioned himself between Y/N and the intruders.

“Back off,” Harry growled, his voice carrying an authoritative edge that left no room for argument. “She’s with me.”

The intruders, clearly intimidated by Harry’s status, fierce glare and confident demeanor, backed away, muttering under their breath as they disappeared into the shadows. Harry turned to Y/N, his eyes softening as he gently reached out to caress her cheek. “Are you alright, darling?”

Y/N nodded, tears of relief welling up in her eyes. “I… I didn’t think anyone would come.”

Harry pulled her into a tight embrace, his strong arms enveloping her. “I’ll always come for you. You don’t have to be afraid here.”

As their relationship blossomed, so did their affection. Harry would surprise Y/N with stolen kisses during shared meals, as they walked through the market, or even as he whispered sweet nothings in her ear. One night, under the starlit sky, they lay together on a blanket by the sea. The sound of waves crashing against the shore provided a soothing backdrop as Harry pulled Y/N close.

“Look at those stars,” Harry murmured, his lips brushing against her ear. “They’re nothing compared to how you light up my life.”

Y/N turned to face him, her heart aching with love and uncertainty. “Sometimes, I still can’t believe you’re here with me. That someone like you would choose someone like me.”

Harry cupped her face gently in his hands, his gaze unwavering. "You're not just anyone, darling. You're my everything. I chose you because you make me feel things villains aren't supposed to feel. You make me see the world in a way I never knew I could."

Their lips met in a kiss that was both tender and passionate, filled with the promise of a future they could build together. Harry’s hands roamed lovingly over her back, pulling her closer as their kiss deepened.

As their relationship progressed, Uma began to see Y/N’s value beyond just Harry’s affection. She had witnessed Y/N’s bravery and kindness and saw how Y/N fit seamlessly into her crew. One day, Uma called Y/N to her quarters, her expression serious but not unkind.

“Y/N,” Uma began, her tone steady, “you’ve proven yourself to be more than just a lost soul here. You’ve got spirit and heart, and you’ve earned your place.”

Y/N looked at Uma with a mixture of apprehension and hope. “What do you mean?”

Uma smiled slightly, a rare show of warmth. “I’m offering you a spot on my crew. You belong here, and you’ve shown that you’re capable of more than you know. You’ve got the grit and the grace we need.”

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise and gratitude. “Thank you, Uma. I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Uma said with a nod. “Just keep being yourself. That’s all we need.”

With Uma’s approval, Y/N felt a renewed sense of belonging. She continued to grow closer to Harry, their love flourishing amidst the challenges. Whenever danger threatened, Harry was always there, his protective nature evident in every gesture. He would wrap his arms around her, pulling her close during moments of fear, his kisses always a reminder of his devotion.

As the days turned into months, Y/N and Harry’s love blossomed. They faced challenges together, each obstacle only strengthening their bond. In the heart of the Isle of the Lost, amidst the chaos and shadows, Y/N and Harry discovered a love that was pure and unshakeable, a love that healed old wounds and built new dreams. And in that love, Y/N finally found the acceptance and happiness she had always longed for, wrapped in the arms of a pirate who had stolen her heart and made her feel truly cherished.

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Copyright: All stories contained herein are the intellectual property of the author. Unauthorized copying, reproduction, or distribution of these stories, in whole or in part, without explicit written permission from the author, is strictly prohibited and may result in legal action. Respect the creator's rights and creativity. For permissions or inquiries, please contact: herstoryheaven@gmail.com.

Request Guidelines: When submitting a request, please ensure that your request does not contain any explicit sexual content or graphic depictions, and avoid any form of extreme violence or graphic descriptions of violent acts. I appreciate your understanding and cooperation in maintaining a respectful and inclusive environment for all readers. If you're unsure about your request or want to request about someone I haven't written about yet, feel free to ask me anytime.