#his grandmother told him the same stories growing up

[past-j]

monkey man is SO GOOD!!

[foldingfittedsheets]

My nana maternal grandmother who taught me swears had one of the most ridiculous pet names for her cat when I was growing up. For reasons known only to her, she simply called the cat: Kitty Kitty Meow Meow. The creature in question was an absolute love bug and lived to be almost twenty.

When I was dating my last boyfriend Brendan we ended up living with his mom briefly before we moved up north together, and his sister lived at home too. One day I was sitting in the kitchen and heard Brendan call teasingly to his sister, “Okay, Miss Kitty Kitty Meow Meow!”

His sister laughed but my head shot up. “What did you just say?”

Brendan ambled over to me, “Oh, it’s an old inside joke. There was this one day I was riding the bus to Charlie’s house and I heard this girl on the bus say her grandma’s cat was named Kitty Kitty Meow Meow. It was so stupid I rushed home to tell my sister. It’s like naming a dog Doggy Doggy Bark Bark.” He was hysterically giggling just relating this story.

I stared at him.

I said, “Charlie and I were on the same bus route.”

He blinked, his giggles tapering down and slowly started to frown.

“That girl was me. That is the name of my nana’s cat.”

It turned out that while Brendan, a year younger than me, had never met me before we both graduated high school, he had apparently sat behind me once on the bus and turned a brief snippet of my life into a meme with his sister. Then a decade later we met through Charlie in college and went on to date. We were both flabbergasted by this coincidence.

But there was one more twist in store for me. I told my family about the way our paths had crossed before we ever dated and they thought it was hilarious.

Then a few weeks later I got a frantic call from my parents while they were in California visiting my paternal grandmother.

“Hey guys, what’s going on?”

There was weird excited static and thumps as the phone passed around and I heard my dad in the background urging my grandma, “Tell her!”

My grandma said ponderously, “You know my cats name is Kiki.”

“Of course, it’s a really cute name.”

“Your dad wants me to tell you the full thing.”

My eyes widened. I could not believe what was about to happen to me but I knew it was coming.

“Her name is Ki-Ki Meow Meow.”

I got it on both sides. Both my grandmas, in different states, with no contact, had named their cats the same silly ridiculous thing. I immediately ran to tell Brendan who laughed so hard he almost threw up.

[eeriefeelingsat3amuwu]

hdhahdhajfbajdnaudb Okay having Thoughts™️ about some of these ‘Odysseus raises Astyanax’ fics. Because. Because if we’re talking about the full odyssey experience. If Astyanax were to survive. He would have spent 11 years of his life growing up with Odysseus as his father. Now, to the main area of thought - Telemachus. Imagine. Imagine being a child, hearing of your father only in stories. From your mother, the servants, your grandparents. Seeing your grandmother succumb to her grief, seeing your mother grow sadder by the day, more sullen, seeing your grandfather withdraw into himself, all because of your father.

The man you are told you look like, the man who left for war, six, eight, eleven, fifteen, TWENTY years ago, left your home in disrepair, left your mother and you to deal with suitors disrespecting your house and name, the man who you are so angry at, yet Also worship as a god, because you don’t have a CHOICE. You can’t love him, you don’t KNOW him, but you love him in the way you love your gods - distant, unknowable, unreachable, and yet you have his face, your mother sometimes gates at you with these sad, sad eyes and you know she’s not really seeing you when she tells you she loves you.

You know he is a man, logically, how could he not be when your mother still remembers every calous on his hands and your grandfather tells you of how he almost set his room on fire one day, but he is only a legend to you. You hear other Kings, Kings from the same war your father left for (they came back, they are already back and he is still gone) discussing him, you hear how he helped end the war with your and your mother’s name on his lips and YET! He’s not here, he’s not here but he can’t be dead, because everyone agrees that he is too stubborn to die.

And then. He is back. And he has a boy with him. A boy who is younger than you, still just a child. And he regards the boy as his own, introduces him to you as ‘your brother’. He hasn’t dishonoured your mother, he took the child from the burning city of Troy because he is merciful and kind and you see it in the way the boy hugs him and calls him papa. And you should be happy, your father is back, you have a sibling now, your mother finally smiles properly again, your grandfather no longer cries when he sees you.

But. This boy. The boy your father brought from Troy. He got all that you have ever wanted: he got your father, from the moment he was Born he got your father, he was there for his first steps, his first words, he taught him how to sail, fight, read, count, he has been there with him through it all and you have never wanted anything more. ‘This child is not his son’ says that hateful, angry voice in your head.

You spend time with your father. He weeps, hugs you. Tells you he’s proud of the man you are now. Teaches you how to rule, it is your birthright, he says. He goes hunting with you and tells you he loves you and that the thought of you and your mother got him through many a peril. You spend time with your brother, you make him laugh, he loves you, clings to you just as much as he clings to your father, you teach him more about Ithaca, the way it is now, because he’s only heard stories. And still, in the back of your mind, you know you hate the child. You despise him with every fiber of your heart even if your mind knows he is not to blame - and that he has dealt with the same thing, just opposite to you.

Whereas you had a home, your mother and the rest of your family, but yearned for more than just the memory of your father, wanted for freedom, the boy had him, in the flesh, soothing his nightmares and teaching him to live, had the open sea and the deck of a ship, the capability to go anywhere, he lacked the stability that you had and despised. He didn’t know his grandfathers, would never get to know his grandmother, only had a memory of a mother and a brother, saw them as saints, as a reason to keep pushing forth.

You are opossites. You don’t know how it happened, as the child is not hers, but your brother looks like your mother where you are clearly your father’s son, yet your personalities seem to have been switched. You’re calmer, much more subdued, you don’t smile easily and are weaker of will. Your brother is loud and boisterous, quick to crack a grin and so, so Brave.

You still get the compulsion to bow to your father whenever he enters a room, to touch him to make sure he is real, at times. He sometimes wakes screaming, seeing horrors that you could not imagine in his sleep and doesn’t feel comfortable in a proper bed for years. He sets the curtains on fire and your father laughs in relief and he holds him to his chest. Your own chest cleaves in two.

Just. Is this anything?

[justagirlwholikesadam]

His Queen

Summary: Leonidas is growing up and he finally realized the kind of man his so called father, Joffrey is.

Warning: Joffrey is a tag itself, child abuse, Gregor has a part of this story, Sandor trying his best, reader suffers. Sandor x Fem!Reader

A/N: I have risen from the dead, I'm so sorry for not posting lately. please be patience with me because I'm still updating more stories. Enjoy -L

Word Count: 5.5K

Chapter: Two

Leonidas was young in age when he found out how cruel Joffrey could be. He had a bad temper and a vile tongue. Leonidas witnessed Joffrey order Meryn Trant to kill an innocent man for his own amusement. The face of the innocent man plagued Leonidas’s mind. His screams for mercy and the sound of Meryn Trant’s sword slicing the man’s head off taunted him along with his father’s laughter.

The knight standing guard barged into his bed chamber when he heard the prince crying in his sleep. The young prince woke up in tears, Leonidas begged him to get you. A few minutes later, you arrived running. You held your son in your arms as he told you about Joffrey killing that man. After calming Leonidas, you tucked him in bed and sat next to him brushing his thick brown curls out of his face with your fingers. You decided to tell Leonidas what Sandor told you once. Leonidas was now, realizing what kind of man Joffrey was and you had to tell him how things worked. You wanted to wait for him until he was the right age but Leonidas was smart for his age, both of your children were.

“My sweet boy, the world is built by killers. You have to get used to looking at them.” You told him, his brown eyes widened at you.

“One day you will be one too.” You told him.

“What if I don’t want to be one? What if I don’t want to hurt people, mother?” Leonidas told you as he tried to get out of bed. You grew worried, he looked like he was about to cry again. You gently pushed him back down and grabbed his hands with yours.

“Leo.” You called him by his nickname gently. “When the day comes you will. You will kill to protect your family, to protect your loved ones and to protect your kingdom.”

A tear slipped from his eye. “I don’t want to be like him.”

“I don’t want to be like, father. He’s a killer. A monster.” You held his hands and looked back at the closed door of his chambers. You didn't want the knight by his door to listen to your son. Joffrey would punish anyone who spoke ill of him.

“You aren’t like him, my Leo. You never will be.” You told him firmly as you leaned down to kiss his forehead.

“When the day comes that you have to make a decision whether or not to take someone's life. Do it for the right reason.” Leonidas nodded at you, he kept silent when he saw the collar of your robe move as you stood up from his bed. He frowned at the black and blue bruised handprint on your neck.

It was then Leonidas began to see how things were. He noticed how his father acted, how his father ruled the kingdom with fear and with no compassion. He noticed the bruises on you and the way you tried to hide it from everyone. He noticed his grandmother, Cersei, was the same as his father. He was the age of 16 when he came to terms with his father’s cruelty. He finally understood the jokes that were aimed at his uncle, Tyrion. He understood why people were so afraid of Gregor and Sandor but Leonidas didn't mind Sandor, not after Sandor opened up to him about his burnt face.

It was the day he found out about the vile things Gregor had done when Joffrey blurted out his “accomplishments.” He asked Sandor about it. Leonidas didn't see the pained expression on Sandor's face when he told the prince everything and at the end he gave him a choice.

“Being a Clegane comes with a bad reputation, my prince. I understand if you want to stop our training.” Leonidas frowned at his words. Gregor wasn't training much with him since Gregor had his own keep and lands to maintain. Leonidas’ training with Sandor continued very much.

“No, Sandor.” Leonidas shook his head and stared up at him.

“Your brother’s violence and sins doesn't define you. I would very much like to keep training with you. You are nothing like Gregor.”

“My prince, you think too much of me. I have done things I'm not proud of.”

“I know you killed people.” Sandor becomes quiet.

“My father orders you to kill.” Leonidas added with a sharp tone. “I know if you disobey my father then he will behead you. I don't want to see that. I know my sister and mother wouldn’t want that as well.”

Sandor held his breath at the mention of Joanna and you. “Mother told me that the world was built by killers.”

Sandor nodded at him. “She said I will be a killer as well but when I kill, it needs to be for the right reason. To protect my loved one and the people of this kingdom.”

“I know if you had a choice. You wouldn’t kill just to kill but you would kill to protect. People find the Clegane's brothers terrifying but it’s just really one brother that they should fear.” Sandor let out a small smile at him.

Leonidas had your sense of kindness, Sandor had to admit. Same words you shared with him one night were the same words his own son was telling him now. Sandor and Leonidas continued to train and spend time together. Joffrey was thrilled at the fact that his son was bonding with Sandor. He thought that his son could be the exact replica of The Hound, one of the best fighters and killers of the seven kingdoms.

Very often Joanna and you would be the audience of his training. Sandor was happy that he spent time with his son. He was grateful for you being there along with Joanna. His daughter didn’t seem to mind Sandor. She had always tried to grab his hands and try to hold on his hair when she was just a babe. Leonidas thought it was always funny how his sister, who barely spent time with Sandor, was so excited when she was near him.

Whenever Sandor had the chance to hold his children, it would be hidden in the library. You would keep him updated on their life and their likes. Joanna had grown to sleep in Sandor’s arms and with this it created a bit of a problem because she couldn’t go to sleep, unless it was in the arms of The Hound. As a baby and a young child Joanna would smile at Sandor whenever Joffrey came to visit. Joffrey would think that she would be smiling at him but the truth was she was smiling at the man over Joffrey's shoulder, Sandor.

This treatment also applied to The Mountain, Gregor as well. The servants and the council wonder why the small and innocent princess would give the giant the time of day. Joanna would sit on your hip when you came to watch Leonidas training. She would blabbed while chewing on her fingers until she saw him. She would squeal and wave her hands at Gregor. You bite your tongue to hide the giggling bubbling in your chest. The most dangerous man in Westeros looked uneased. Nervous of a little girl greeting him. Joanna would just fuss and fuss until she got her way. You would greet Gregor and ask for forgiveness since you had disturbed the training. He shakes his head and greets you back with no issue.

Sandor would glare at his brother. His hand on the hilt of his sword, ready to pounce in case his brother hurts Joanna or you.

Joanna grew to be a very poised young lady. She was spoiled endlessly by her grandfather, Tywin. Joffrey wasn’t there for the birth of Joanna. He had been away and during that time you had grown fond of Tywin since he was The Hand of the King. Tywin admitted to you one day during your usual walks throughout the castle. He had offered you his arm to hold on as you waddled with him. You were still pregnant with Joanna. It had been two weeks and Joffrey was still absent.

Asking for a break, both of you settled down on a chair and he had the servant bring you some water. While the servant walked away, Tywin expressed his great deal of affirmation for you. You had held up to be a wonderful queen. It was something he had wished his daughter had become when she was queen. You were well educated and had an idea of running a kingdom. Tywin, like most, knew how Joffrey ran the kingdom. You had proven your intelligence and loyalty to Joffrey. You had gotten far to sit with Tywin during court. Sometimes Tywin had asked you to fill in during courts and dealing with the people of King's Landing.

Tywin never admitted to you that he thought you would be just a breeding cow without a thought behind your pretty eyes but oh, how wrong he was. He saw so much of his wife in you. He had cried the day Joanna was born. You had granted permission for the servant to give the baby to him. Tywin's heart grew at the sight of the babe in his arms.

“Her name is Joanna.” Tywin gave you a nod of gratitude. You had given her the name of his late wife.

Sandor didn't mind whenever Leonidas stood for him when it came with highborns. Like him, Leonidas had his smart tongue. Sandor didn't think much of it until Leonidas received his first slap from his father when he stood up for him. Leonidas grew tired of his father belittling Sandor.

“His name is not Dog.” Leonidas told his father. Leonidas stood in the middle of the council room. Joffrey looked up from the table and started to laugh. He looked over at Sandor who was staring hard at Leonidas.

“I own him. He’s my dog. If I want him to bark he will. If I want him to kill he will. One day he will be your dog.” Joffrey told him as he stood up from his seat and walked towards Leonidas. Sandor grew anxious as he stared at the back of Joffrey’s head. Joffrey didn’t mind that Leonidas was now taller than him, he still gave his son a glare as he looked up at him.

“If I want to have my dog beat you up. He will because he’s my dog and my dog obeys me.” Joffrey said harshly. Sandor felt his eye twitch at Joffrey’s words. Millions of thoughts ran through Sandor’s head. What if Joffrey were to command him to hurt the prince? What would he do? He would die. He would die then hurt his own son.

“He deserves respect unlike you.” Leonidas answered him. Sandor flinched when Joffrey slapped Leonidas across the face.

“Be warned, boy. Next time I will have you punished for disrespecting me. I am the king.”

“Leave me be.” Joffrey yelled at Sandor before flinging the door open and stomping away.

Sandor shut the door and looked over at Leonidas. He walked towards him as Leonidas kept staring at the ground in shock by what just happened. His father had slapped him, it was the first time Joffrey had laid a hand on him. Leonidas was used to his father’s cruel words towards him but this was the first Leonidas had experienced this abuse. He wondered how you managed to deal with it.

“Look at me.” Sandor said as he cupped Leonidas’ face with his large hand. Sandor let out a sigh as he wiped the blood trailing down from Leonidas’ right nostril. His eyes were wide and filled with tears.

“Never do that again. Do you hear me?” Sandor yelled at him as he wiped the blood.

Sandor saw the expression on Leonidas’ face. Sandor dropped his hands and took a deep breath. His fingers ached to get his sword and slam it into Joffrey’s stomach for touching his son. Leonidas looked away from Sandor. Embarrassed that he tried to stand up for Sandor but at the end Sandor just yelled at him like his father did.

Sandor called out Leonidas' name but he didn’t respond. He kept looking at the ground. Sandor felt his heart drop when Leonidas flinched when Sandor tried to get closer to him.

“Look at me.” Sandor told him. Sandor bit the inside of his cheek as Leonidas looked up at him.

“I’m sorry.” Leonidas said softly. “Don’t be angry with me.” Sandor shook his head at Leonidas' plea, wiping his fallen tears with his thumbs.

“I didn’t mean to yell at you, Leo.” Sandor continued to wipe his tears.

Leonidas pitched his brows at the nickname. Joanna and you were the only ones who called him that. Sandor was always formal with him but he was glad that Sandor felt comfortable using it. Leonidas looked up at Sandor rather than his own father. He envisioned Sandor as the hero in all his stories. The underdog who saved the princess. Him and his sister had that in common. Both of them have seen Sandor act with their mother. They saw how gentle the guard of their father was with their mother. Opening doors and lending her his arm whenever she would sit down or stand up. Especially during their walks around the garden. Leonidas and Joanna would run and play in the garden while Sandor stood near you, keeping guard when Joffrey didn't need him. They smiled whenever they heard you laughing and talking with Sandor.

“No more standing up for me, you hear me? I’m an old man, being called a dog is nothing. I have been called at way worse things.”

Leonidas shook his head. “It’s not right. It’s not fair.”

“Life is not fair. You need to understand that right now!” Sandor told him firmly. Sandor looked away from Leonidas' gaze. He looked at him like you did. Leonidas wasn’t afraid to look him straight in the eye.

“I know life isn’t fair.” Leonidas spoke as he walked away from Sandor.

“I know that because my mother, a woman who’s amazing and a good queen, has to suffer with a man like him.” Leonidas told Sandor as he opened the door then left before Sandor could say anything.

Leonidas kept his posture. He held his head up as he walked out of the room. The servants greeted him as he passed by. Leonidas made his way to your chambers. He had knocked and heard one of your servants grant permission to come inside. He saw you sitting up in bed with a cup of tea. He smiled at the sight of you balancing the cup on top of your swollen belly.

“Leo.” You called out to him with a smile as you waved your hand to come closer to you. The servant bowed when you told her to leave and shut the door behind her while Leonidas made his way to you. He sat next to you as you placed the cup by the night stand.

“How are you, my love?” You asked as you rubbed your belly, wincing as you shifted. Leonidas was sitting on the edge of the bed near you. He felt your hand on his arm as you rubbed your stomach with the other.

“I wanted to see how you were doing.” He said, looking away from you. You gave him a smile at his sweet gesture.

“I’m doing well. I’m ready for the babe to get out.” You said eyeing Leonidas in front of you. He kept looking across the room instead of you.

“Look at me.” Leonidas didn’t have to be told twice. He did and you let out a small gasp.

“What happened?” You asked as you saw the right side of your son's cheek, it was red.

“Leonidas, tell me right now.” You ordered when he didn't speak up right away.

Sandor knew Joffrey was going to snap. He had walked with him to a council meeting that was being held without him. The blonde king was vivid at his grandfather, Tywin the hand of the king. Joffrey’s blue eyes widened when his grandfather had told him that he wasn’t needed and there was no need for his presence.

After his son told him, his guard demanded more respect than him and his grandfather told him he wasn’t needed. Joffrey’s anger kept bubbling.

“Any news on the Queen?” Joffrey frowned as Varys questioned Tywin. Sandor’s ears perked at the mention of your name.

“Bed ridden until the child is born.” Tywin had announced.

“People are growing anxious. We will have to delay the court date.” Varys said as he looked through the scrolls on the table.

“There will be no need for that. I will handle the people and their needs.” Joffrey said not even noticing the looks the council gave to each other.

“My king, the people in King's Landing would rather prefer the queen.” Tywin spoke out and held his gaze at his grandson who grew angry at this fact. Varys had shown Joffrey the scrolls of the amount of people asking for you.

“This is not up for discussion.” Tywin added when Joffrey started to make threats to the people who were asking for you. Joffrey was going to answer back when the door opened. Sandor frowned when he noticed you waddling inside as your ladies in waiting followed behind you with worried eyes.

“I need to speak to you alone.” Sandor didn’t miss the look of anger on your face.

Joffrey’s chuckle and shook his head. “This is not the time, woman. I’m busy.”

“Right fucking now.” You yelled loudly causing everyone to tense up since this was the first time you had raised your voice.

Joffrey said as he shook his head. “Whatever you have to say you can say in front of my council.”

Tywin watched as you looked over at the men of the group. The angry look on your face never left as you looked at them. Sandor watched as you sighed while placing a hand on your swollen belly.

“I am going to tell you this once. One time Joffrey.” Everyone stood quiet as you got closer to him.

“I tolerated the person you are. I looked away when you torture your whores. I looked away from your childish behavior and learn to deal with them. I have come to terms with your abuse when it came to me.” Sandor looked down at the ground when you spoke. He shut his eyes tightly when you mentioned the slaps, the names being called, the abuse Joffrey had made you endure. Sandor had cleaned the blood from your nose or cheek when Joffrey had wandering hands.

“But I will not tolerate you hitting my children.” The room was silent as you told Joffrey.

“You will not touch Leonidas. You will not touch Joanna and you will not touch this babe.”

The door opened again and they looked to see Leonidas and Joanna. Both of them were out of breath, like they just ran for miles. The room was getting filled when Joanna and Leonidas’ personal servants came rushing behind them.

Leonidas stood at the entrance as his brows knitted together when he saw his mother and father. Joanna held on his arm tight as she looked worried.

“You think you can tell me what to do -. ” Joffrey didn’t even finish his sentence. Tywin stood up as he saw Joanna was in tears and saw the slight bruise on Leonidas’ cheek. He had walked between Joffrey and you who were in a staring match.

“Everyone out.” Tywin announced as he walked towards Leonidas and Joanna.

“Clegane, walk them back to their room at once.” Sandor moved at once towards them.

“Wait, grandfather. If I can speak to my father.” “No.” Tywin said as he touched Leonidas cheek making him flinch.

“This will end now.” He looked over at Joanna who still held on to her older brother as she watched over at Joffrey who was whispering to you.

Tywin looked over Leonidas who kept staring at you, the fear in his eyes that something would happen. Sandor took a deep breath before walking to the children. The room was empty now.

“Come on.” He touched Leonidas’ shoulder. Tywin turned around when the door was shut.

The children were about to walk away as well as your ladies in waiting. Everyone had left except for them, the ladies had told them not to fret when they saw your children. They all looked towards Sandor who remained by the door. They can hear him breathing heavily as he stares at the door. One hand remained on top of his sword.

One of the servants calls out for The Hound but Sandor just ignores her. His shoulders rose up and down. This wasn't good, the children thought. Joanna and Leonidas looked at each other. Joanna steps forward ignoring the warning from the servant and grabs a hold of Sandor’s free hand. Sandor snaps back into reality. He looked down at Joanna, her brown eyes wide as she stared up at him.

“Grandfather won't hurt mother.” She tells him and Sandor doesn't know what to say, he just nods.

He knew Tywin wouldn't hurt you but it was Joffrey that he was nervous of. Sandor swallowed that fear, it hurt. He was ashamed that he couldn't do more, he couldn't do more for you and the children. He felt less of a man every time he saw a bruise on your body and now the sight of his son’s cheek made him feel ill. Joanna held Sandor’s hand and pulled him away from the door. She didn't let go, Sandor didn't as well. His hand dwarf hers and the servants had a small smile on their faces as they watched them walking with Sandor on either side.

Tywin wished he had done more to help you. Joffrey had agreed to not touch the children. He had swore to it in front of you and Tywin but that meant you weren't safe.

Sandor sat with you in the love seat of the library while you told him what happened after he left. Sweet kisses he gave you, when you began to cry. You didn't cry for your own but for your children. Sandor cried for you as he rubbed your belly. His unborn child in your belly kicked him and in the middle of it. Sandor told you what happened as well with Leonidas. A sad smile appeared on your face, you were proud of him.

Sandor left first, he gave you a kiss before leaning his forehead against yours. He promised to look out for the children but you must promise him to stay in bed until the babe is born. He rubbed your belly before wishing you a good night. You waved at Sandor as he shut the door behind him. You were about to push yourself up to leave after a few moments.

You let out a deep breath when you managed to stand up when you heard footsteps behind you. Your hands covered your belly when you turned around. You let out a gasp when you saw Sandor’s brother. He stood between the bookshelves, he was almost as tall as the shelves. His dark eyes stared hard at you and you took a step back.

“Ser Gregor. How are you?” When he did not answer, you began to worry. You looked around, he seemed to be alone.

“Didn't know you were a fan of books. Are you liking the library?” He begins to walk closer to the love seat.

“Never liked books.” He told you as he dropped his sword on the love seat. Showing you that his hands were empty. He held no weapons.

“Sandor was the reader of the family. He liked his books. I see, that hasn't changed.” Gregor walks around the love seat to stand a few feet away from you. His face was hard to read, his eyes just kept looking at your face then at your stomach. You felt petrified. Would you share the same fate as the poor women that Gregor caught? He couldn't though, you were the queen but Gregor is unpredictable.

“He even found someone to read books with.” Your stomach dropped in fear.

“How long were you hiding?” You asked him softly and you were surprised when he answered right away.

“The moment I saw you giving my brother the sign.” Gregor raised his hand up to his chin and scratched it. You couldn't believe he figured it out. Sandor and you were so careful to not be followed. He's been watching both of you for a while.

“What is it that you want from him?” He asks and you frown at his question.

“He's a second born son. He has no land and no money. He's the dog of the king.” You cut him off before he can say another word.

“He is not a dog!” You hiss at Gregor who raised a brow at you “The queen thinks much of the dog.”

You frown at his words. “I love him. I love your brother.” Gregor’s face fell. You held your head high and repeated it to him one more time.

“Then the children?” He knew the answer but he wanted to hear it from you. He knew Sandor would never tell him. You nod at him and look down at your belly.

“All three of them are his. They are your family. The princess is your niece and the prince is your nephew.”

“They will hang you for this. Hang them all including my brother,” Gregor says.

“They won't unless you keep your mouth shut. I know you hate Sandor but you can't hate Leonidas or Joanna”

“Who says I hate Sandor?” You let out a huff at that question and walked to the nearby desk. It was close to the door, you needed to be close to the door in case something happened.

“You burned his face, you pushed him to the coal.” Gregor shook his head. “His bed caught on fire.”

“LIES!” You shouted at him and Gregor’s jaw clenched. “You may have fooled everyone but not me. I believe him.”

Gregor takes a deep breath and it reminds you of a bull. You're frightened but you wouldn't show it. After today’s events, you have had enough of men like Joffrey and Gregor who use and abuse their power.

“Tell me, Ser Gregor. What do you want? What's the price for your silence?” Gregor took a minute to answer. His dark eyes stared down at you, almost trying to intimidate you but it didn't work. You stared right back at him with no fear.

“I want to know..” Gregor stopped in mid sentence and swallowed hard.

“Has Joffrey hurt the children before?” His question confused you. Why was he asking this, you wondered. Sandor has told you that his brother is incapable of feeling. His heart was cold and no love could come from him. All he cared about was killing.

“He has slapped Leonidas.” Gregor frowned deeply. His jaw clenched and his eyes hardened by your words.

“And the girl?” He growled. You shook your head at him. “We have come to a deal. He won't hurt my children. None of them.”

“Exchange for what?” You lower your eyes to the ground.

“I’ll be the one receiving the abuse.” Gregor hums and clears his throat.

“Nothing new.” You look up at him. “He's been doing it already. I have seen the bruising.”

“You're quite the observer, Ser Gregor.” You admit to him.

“Why let him abuse you more for the sake of them?” He asks.

“Because they are my children. They are mine and Sandor’s. I will protect them until my last dying breath and that includes Sandor.” Gregory’s eyes turned into slit at the mention of his brother.

You let out a sigh of relief when the tall man sat down on the loveseat. His elbows rested on top of his knees and he rubbed his hands together. You rubbed your stomach trying to ease your unborn child who was kicking like crazy.

“Does the girl have a knight protecting her?” He asks you.

“No, she doesn’t. She’s always surrounded by her maids and septon.” You answered him and looked at him carefully. He was asking about Joanna. Why?

“I want to guard her.” You shook your head.

“Ser Gregor, I know you are strong and well taught in fighting but your reputation is alarming. You rape and kill woman. Your temper worries me.” He looks away from you. You can’t understand why he’s asking for this. What does he want from Joanna? All the Gods will have to restrain you this moment because you were going to lash out. Why would his man want to guard your daughter, his niece.

“She looks like my sister.” The eldest Clegane brother said.

“Her smile and her hair.” His voice was soft as he continued to speak about her. Sandor mentioned before that her name was Ellie. That was the only thing he knew about her.

“I lost my temper one day.” He shook his head.

“Choked her, it was only for a few seconds but I was much stronger. Stronger than most. All it took was a few seconds. Broke her neck.” Gregor said as he looked across the room at you. He can still recall Ellie's face after he had choked her. Her eyes popped out and her face was red from the lack of oxygen.

“I saw the boy and the girl crying. Then I saw his face, his cheek. I couldn't protect the boy but let me protect her.” You wanted to believe him but you couldn't not after all the horrid things he had done. Not after all the blood he had shed.

“You think by protecting her, everything will be forgiven? The crimes you had committed and the rapes you had done. One day you will lose your temper with her. What would people think when they see The Mountain guarding the princess?” Gregor stood up from the seat and walked towards you. You took a step back and realized your back was against the door.

“I loved my sister.” His voice was strained. “She was the only good thing from my wretched family. Sandor does not remember but mother didn't give a shit about us and father was a drunk who liked to hit. Mother tried to sell Sandor when he was a babe.” Your face fell at his confession.

“I killed her when she came back, she wouldn't shut up about not selling him. Then I killed my father when he told me he wanted to sell Ellie for drinking money. Wanted to sell her to the highest bidder.”

No tears fell but his eyes were glossy. “There was no hunting accident. He simply fell on top of my sword.”

You let out a whimper when he stood in front of you. You were so close to him, you could smell the metal on his armor. You can smell the wine from his breath and he raised his large paw. You thought he was going to hurt you but he placed it on top of your stomach. Your unborn baby seemed to know who it was, your child felt the warmth on their uncle and kicked.

He lets out a small gasp and looks at you with wide eyes. With shaky hands you covered his hands with your own. The baby kicked again.

“Was that..” You nod at him and he starts to rub your belly. “Mother never let me touch her stomach. I wanted to when she was with Sandor.”

His words broke something inside of you. What if Gregor had a good family? A father and mother who cared, would he still be evil and murderous? His eyes remained on your stomach, you moved his hands back and forward around your stomach. A certain kick had you wincing loudly and he quickly removed his hand from your gasp.

“You alright?” He asked and you nod, biting your bottom lip. You were supposed to be bedridden until your pregnancy came to an end.

“Yes.” You answered him and leaned back on the wall, hoping to find some kind of comfort.

“Your brother’s children are always relentless at the end. Kicking their mother left and right at the end of the pregnancy.” You looked up at Gregor.

“Mother said the same thing.” He said softly. “Kicking to get out.”

You took a deep breath before asking him something that could change Joanna’s life.

“Are you truly serious about taking care of my daughter? She is everything to me, Ser Gregor. Sandor and Tywin adore her. If I accept your proposal and you lose your temper or something happens to her..”

“Then you behead me.” He cuts you off, surprising you.

“If I fail, then I accept death. I harmed my siblings, that I regret but I won’t harm my niece and nephew. That you have my word. Since I’ll be with Joanna, she’s mostly with Leonidas. I’ll keep my eye on him. I fear his tongue will get him into trouble with Joffrey again.”

You nod at him. “Sandor, won’t like this at all.”

“It wouldn’t matter unless Joffrey believes it’s his idea.” Gregor declared.

<-- Chapter One

[hardlysticks]

The Sea Breeze Carries Unknown Secrets

Poly!141 x reader. Special edition for mermay!

Recently your grandfather had passed away, leaving you his one story seaside cabin in a small town you had visited growing up. Your grandfather took over the house once your grandmother had passed, leaving it just to him and whoever decided to visit. You were the one to visit the most, spending summers on end in that small cabin playing in the sand that covered the front yard.

You can still vividly remember the feeling of the sand getting stuck under your nails as you dug a moat around the small sand castle you built. Though it looked more of a heap of sand then a castle, since you could only use dry sand.

Whenever you tried to wander closer to the sea line your grandfather would always pull you away and tell you how dangerous the sea was. Mumbling to himself about creatures that would snatch up any thing they found interesting.

Your grandfather was seen as a crazy by everyone in you family, with his stories about his time at sea and the things he had encountered. Everyone in your family ignored him but you always sat and listened with intrigue. Stories of mermaids and sirens that haunted the rocks and the coastlines of the seaside town.

The small coastal town embraced your grandfather���s stories with their own, twisting in their own thoughts on the creatures that haunted the sea. When the summers came where you sat in town listening to all the stories that were woven.

The town looked just the same as it did when you were younger, as you slowly drove into the streets remembering the summers you spent here with your grandfather… and now they were the streets you would be living in. It wasn’t long before you pulled up to the sandy driveway of the house you inherited.

“Just how I remembered it” you smiled to yourself as you started to unpack your bags from your car. There wasn’t much to move from your small apartment in the city, so it only took close to twenty minutes to bring everything in.

You had finished unpacking later in the evening, leaving you quite exhausted. With a heavy sigh you sat yourself back on the couch, exhausting eating away at your muscles. Eventually you gave in to the tiredness and fell asleep, the comfort of the couch and the sea breeze blowing from the window lulled you to sleep.

The sound of the breeze whistling through your window and a soft chime swinging from your porch filled your dreams, leaving you feeling comforted in the new environment. Though it was soon to break with the sounds of splashing water, louder then the ones you hear before a storm brews.

With a jolt you sat up from the couch, leaving you with crumpled clothes and an ache in your neck. Your mind told you to brush off the sounds and go back to sleep, but as they say, curiosity killed the cat.

Carefully you reached out and grabbed your phone from the coffee table, using the screen to illuminate your way to the front door and outside to the beachside that you considered your front yard. It takes a second before your eyes finally adjust to the dark of night.

When your eyes do adjust you notice a dorsal fin cutting through the water, leaving a small wake of ripples behind it. Sharks never came this close to shore, so it was a surprise to see this. The fin quickly dipped back into the water, leaving you with more curiosity than before.

As you step out of the house to get a better look, the water quickly splashes, large enough to send rippling waves to the shore. Along with the splash you think you hear a gruff laugh calling out from the ocean, surely your just imagining it. You’ve barely even slept!

The splashes continued, your eyes drifting to watch the water rippling. Gaining some courage you step off of your porch and get a little closer to the shoreline, when a large splash sends freezing ocean water to soak through your clothes.

“Shit! That’s cold-“ you cursed to yourself as you backed up slightly. With your voice breaking the silence of the night, the crashing of water immediately stops and it goes eerily quiet. The silence qualms your curiosity, it must have been some fish.

Right as you go to turn away you notice two heads popping up out of the water, it takes you a second to reel in the fact that it’s two human heads. A pair of crystalline blue that could rival the sea, and a pair of chocolate brown eyes that made you want to melt under.

Surely this was a delusion of exhaustion right?

“Well look a’ the Bonnie lass we ‘ave ‘ere” the one with crystalline blue eyes spoke, a Scottish lilt to the voice.

Your eyes widened at the scene unfolding right before you, two men in the ocean..? At this ungodly hour? Questions riddled your mind as your tried to find an answer to this mystery, though your brain kept trying to tell you that you were sleep deprived!

“Great you scared her mate” the one with chocolate eyes scoffed to the other, raising a hand to slap the back of the others head.

Finally you got yourself out of your head and tried to take notice of their features. The one with crystalline blue eyes seemed to be sporting an overgrown Mohawk, with some stubble that coated his chin and cheeks, and lastly seemed to be a scar that ran along his chin.

The one with chocolate brown eyes had shorter cut hair that looked like tight curls, along with a bit of stubble along his top lip.

You stayed quiet as you observed the men, though your eyes strained slightly when you looked at one of them. Instead of ears that looked similar to her own, she saw webbed fins that took place instead.

These weren’t men.. these were the creatures your grandfather had warned you about…

Note!- I’m so nervous to post this!!! I hope everyone enjoys this; considering it’s only the prologue not much has happened yet but more will !!

[ms-demeanor]

Atheist condolence card like "sucks that your grandpa no longer exists and you'll never see him again, oh well"

I mean, I'm looking for a condolence card for a Jewish family (found a pretty good one, will be adding a note about a shared memory of the deceased and hopes for the mourners that their memory may be a blessing).

But also I have no idea why people find the concept of an afterlife comforting. Legitimately, that is unappealing to me and the idea that I would be artificially separated from the people that I love and reintroduced to them after a period of separation if there was no need for that time of mourning and loss seems. Bullshit? It seems like bullshit? Capricious and cruel at best?

Anyway when my grandpa died we got a phone call when they tossed is ashes into the ocean and we never saw him again! Being reminded that we wouldn't see him in an afterlife wasn't the sad part, the sad part was knowing that we wouldn't know him anymore, that we'd be on one side of a growing divide, that there was a before and an after and we had left him behind while we had to move forward. It wouldn't have been comforting to think "well perhaps someday when I have lived my life without him, I will see him again in a place where nothing from this life (all the things that I have done, all the things that he taught me) will matter because they were worldly and unimportant."

What was comforting at that time, and after the very many family deaths that I have experienced (and I've experienced a lot! I've been comfortable with the idea that I'll never see my loved ones again when they're gone since I was a very small child!), and what I suspect is comforting even for religious people who have experienced a loss is to be reminded of the people who are still on the same side of that dividing line, who we can still love and adore and support and make memories with.

Anyway. I'm an atheist at least partially because of my grandfather, who was a magician and a skeptic and took great joy in skewering the supernatural. It would be an insult to his memory to think that he was an angel lighting up a star in heaven or whatever the christian condolence cards say.

My grandpa did a sexy comedy magical immolation of my grandmother in front of crowds; there was a devil on the flier.

(grandma's the one on the right)

Pictured: Not someone who had much reverence for death or much patience for the supernatural:

(Funny story, when my dad came to visit this week he saw a 2-post 52U server rack on the driveway from a distance and asked me "where did you guys get the guillotine? Did I leave that here?")

But my family is probably *unusually* atheist and irreverent.

For atheists in general I don't know why people think that it's more upsetting to acknowledge the truth (that once people are dead you won't see them anymore) than to be told "comforting" lies (that you will see dead people again at some mystical place that you have no access to or proof of).

I *hate* hearing "they're in a better place" when I'm mourning someone I loved because that's something that's comforting for a religious person to say but dismisses both the way that I mourn and (frequently in my family) the beliefs of the deceased. They are not in a better place, they are *gone* and I don't want to imagine that they're somewhere waiting for me to join them again, I want to remember them for who they were and accept that they aren't in my life anymore.

"They're in heaven now" "they're with the angels now" "they're with their maker" - none of those things are true and they reflect an extremely limited worldview that I don't share and find pretty insipid actually! Thank you for trying to comfort me you are doing a poor job of it I'm going to go hang out and talk to someone who actually knew them and we'll share stories of what an asshole they were and what kind of crazy nonsense they got up to and what a big, important part of our lives they were and we'll start trying to make sense of how to fill the hole left behind with something practical and joyful and fun and honest that they would have loved instead of cardboard angel wings.

[apatheticrater]

Reposting this after rewriting it 💗 I was thinking about Art and the headcanon about him growing up Catholic and my brain went brrr and popped this out. Don’t mind anything that’s not correct about church, if it’s not obvious I have not gone to a church service before and only been in a few chapels. Hope you guys like this!!

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Everyone knew Art Donaldson was a well-behaved Catholic boy. He grew up with his religious grandmother, went to church every sunday, and helped out at church camp over the summers he wasn’t playing in tennis championships. So how did he end up with you? The girl known around campus for being at every party with a new guy on her arm after each one, you were much better suited for the blonde’s friend, Patrick.

It’s a simple story really. You guys ended up in the same Gen Ed English course during freshman year at Stanford. The professor had you two group up to discuss your most recent assignment, and after a lot of flirting, you got his number and a date for that Friday night. It was unlike any other date you’ve gone on. Art was smart, respectful, kind, and didn’t expect anything from you. He picked you up on time, paid for dinner, listened to you talk, and asked questions about your life. And when he walked you back to your dorm, he was too nervous to try to kiss you. After that night, you knew you needed to lock him down, so you did.

How he ended up in this situation, with you bouncing on his dick in a closed confessional booth, no one on the other side, minutes after church ended, is a whole different story.

Art had been begging you to join him at one of his church services for weeks. He wanted you to come along at least once, and meet the people at his church that he talks to every Sunday. You were never really religious and didn’t want to go to church, but you saw how happy it would make Art and caved.

Sunday morning rolled around and you did your hair just right before throwing on your prettiest (and Art’s favorite) sundress with no panties underneath. You mingled like Art wanted you to, greeted all of the people he introduced you to, and smiled politely. It was once you sat down and started listening to one of the priest's readings that you told Art about your missing article of clothing.

“I’m not wearing any panties under this, by the way.” And you watched him very carefully after, biting back a smile at his, or more so his body’s, reaction. He shuddered, his dress pants grew tighter, and a heavy blush grew on his cheeks. It’s not that you guys haven’t had sex, but Art still gets shy around the mere mention of it.

He tries to focus on the service, but your words keep replaying in his mind. He discreetly reaches over and entwines his fingers with yours, a silent plea for you to behave. His thumb gently rubs over your skin, sending shivers up your arm.

You were the one to have taken his virginity, corrupted him completely, and convinced him to break his vow of chastity until marriage. He was still pretty inexperienced since you guys haven’t done a lot. And you knew he would be hard to convince into having sex in a sacred place, the house of God, but surprisingly enough, it was less hard than you thought.

As soon as the service ended he was dragging you by your hand to the bathroom but you quickly stopped him. “So eager today…are you sure you want to be doing this here, honey?” you ask him, smiling coyly. He pauses for a second, glancing down at his boner straining against his pants before glancing back at you desperately. He swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. His voice is hoarse when he speaks, a clear indication of how affected he is. "Please, love. I can't wait."

“Okay baby, if that’s what you need, but let’s go to a different place. Somewhere a little more private...” You say before guiding him towards the confessional located in the back of the main room, away from the lingering groups that are still talking. You have the sense to check that there is no priest or clergy member on the other side, while Art starts to desperately pull down his pants and boxers. He immediately pulls you onto his lap after sitting on the small provided bench, dragging your head forward for a heated kiss.

His hands grip your thighs tightly, his touch urgent as he hitches your skirt up around your waist. He breaks the kiss to bury his face in your cleavage, his breathing heavy and ragged. His fingers find your wet heat, and he groans against your skin, his touch growing more insistent.

“So desperate today baby…” You say quietly, running your fingers through his hair and gasping when you feel his thumb find your clit, rubbing it in tight circles. His other hand reaches up to pinch and roll your nipple between his fingers. He's shaking with desire, his cock throbbing against your thigh as he fights to stay quiet. "Fuck, fuck, fuck... I need to be inside you so badly,"

You shush him before lifting yourself up and sinking down on his cock, pressing your hand over his mouth to muffle his noises, knowing how vocal he usually is. “I got you, love, I know what you need,” you reassure him, your lips pressed against the shell of his ear. His hips jerk up, burying himself deeper inside you as he bites down gently on your palm. His hands grip your hips tightly, his fingers digging into your flesh as he silences his moans against your hand.

You bite back your own moans as you slowly ride him, pulling yourself up and down on his cock, wishing you could muffle the wet noises coming from where your bodies connect. “You know I love your noises but they’re too loud…”

He nods against your hand, his eyes closed in bliss as he focuses on the sensation of being inside you. He rocks his hips up to meet your movements, his cock hitting that sweet spot inside you with every thrust. "Mmmph, mmmph." Your hips move faster, trying to get you both off as quick as possible to lower the risk of being caught.

Art’s face contorts with pleasure, his hands tightening on your hips as he thrusts up into you, matching your rhythm. His breathing grows harsher, his muffled moans louder against your hand. His body tenses beneath you, a sign that he's close.

“Let go f’me baby…Jesus– fuck…” You moan, unable to hold back or keep yourself quiet. “Always so pretty when you do…” He lets out a muffled shout against your hand, his body convulsing as he spills into you. He buries his face in your neck, his breathing hot and heavy against your skin. After a moment, he lifts his head, his eyes meeting yours with a mix of love and guilt.

You smile and pull him into a kiss, helping him ride out his high by grinding down on his lap. He kisses you back eagerly, his arms wrapping around you to pull you even closer. After a moment, he breaks the kiss, his forehead resting against yours. He lets out a shaky laugh. "We really shouldn't be doing this in a church... But I'm glad we did."

You smile and press another kiss to his lips, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Surprised I even got you to do this…” You look into his eyes, a mischievous smile forming on your face. “Buttt…I still haven’t cum…”

His eyes widen briefly before he grins wickedly. He stands up, lifting you with him before gently setting you down on the bench. He drops to his knees, pushing your skirt up and spreading your thighs. "Well, we can't have that, now can we?" Before you can answer he starts tonguing my your, making you slap a hand over your mouth as your head falls back.

He eats you out with fervor, his tongue delving deep into your pussy as he sucks on your clit. He curls his tongue inside you, scraping against your walls before returning to your clit. He repeats the motion over and over, his fingers spreading your lips wide to give him better access. “Fuck baby—” You moan breathlessly, gripping his hair tightly in one hand as the other grips the bench. “Forgot how good you are with your mouth…”

He moans against your flesh, the vibration pushing you closer to the edge. He reaches up with one hand to play with your breasts, pinching and rolling your peaks between his fingers. He feels you tense up, your thighs shaking around his head, and doubles his efforts, eager to make you come. Your whole body tenses and it takes everything in you to not scream when he pushes his fingers inside you and hooks them just right to hit the gummy spot inside you that makes you cum almost instantly. He can feel your pussy spasm around his fingers and eagerly awaits the flood of delicious wetness that will follow.

It doesn’t take long before your cumming around his fingers, grinding down on his hand as you bite down on your own, muffling your scream-like moans. He continues to suck on your swollen nub, drawing out your release as he slowly pumps his fingers in and out of your quivering core. Once you're finished, he gently cleans you up with his mouth before kissing his way back up your body, wrapping you in a warm embrace. "Better?"

“Much better.” You say softly, trembling slightly as you wrap your arms around his waist. “We should probably leave before your priest catches us,” You say while standing up, opening the confessional door, and making sure no one’s around. He follows you out, straightening his clothes and making sure you're decent as well. He takes your hand and leads you out of the church, casting one last guilty glance back at the building. "To the car?"

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Feel free to send me asks, even if it’s just to chat, I don’t know when exactly I will answer them because it can take me a bit to write and edit sometimes 🫶

[writteninlunarlight-years]

Under Your Spell

Vox x Reader

Since childhood, I have been told I look identical to my great-grandmother. Her husband, my great-grandfather, has looked at me like I was the last fragment of her to walk this earth. When he passed, it made me realize how some people lose their first loves and never get to see them again. I decided for this story that Vox should get to see his first love after he thought all was lost. However, it was you, his first lost love's great-granddaughter. You have the same looks and names, just younger. He thought after his first love's father chased him away, that was it, and any part of your life would never be in his hands again—until you were placed in Val's hands, and his protective side came out. Can you two learn to love each other? Will things grow or dissolve since he is close to that horrid Moth man? Tw: MDNI, 18+, Assult, Val being Val, Weird family-like relations, based off my HC Vox

Wow, this one is a long one. Please enjoy it and let me know what you think! I don't normally write long pieces like this, so if we like it, I will attempt to do it more! I wanted this posted yesterday but just kept writing and writing and writing. I had to make myself stop and cut off.

“No, Vox! You will never see my daughter again! Do you hear me?” The older man’s voice thundered, his face a deep crimson, veins bulging as fury twisted his features. Spit flew from his mouth with each vehement word, a grotesque display of his rage. “She is a good Christian woman, and she will not fall for your television antics! She deserves a good man—someone who can provide for her, not some reality star scum!”

Vox swallowed hard, the bitter taste of desperation rising in his throat. Tears threatened to spill from his eyes, but he fought to keep them at bay, unwilling to give the man before him the satisfaction of seeing him crumble. “You can’t do this!” He surged forward, trying to push the door open again, the threshold of your home now a barrier between love and despair. Just moments ago, he had envisioned a simple marriage proposal—an intimate moment filled with promise. But the moment he uttered those words, it felt as if the heavens had opened up to unleash divine wrath upon him. Vox was never a good christian man and now only seemed to further prove that.

“I love her! I have loved her for so long! I will treat her right! You cannot take my Angel from me!” His voice cracked, desperation saturating each syllable as he pleaded with the man who wielded the power to shatter his dreams.

But the door slammed shut, the finality of it echoing in his heart. As Vox stumbled back, the world around him blurred, the vibrant colors of love fading into a monochrome nightmare. You were gone, just as quickly as you had entered his life, your father’s iron grip ripping you from his arms. Like a good Christian girl, you obeyed, never looking back.

You married a well-off businessman, someone who could provide in all the ways Vox was deemed incapable. Sundays found you in polished pews, while he languished in the bright glare of daytime TV. You bore children while Vox climbed the ranks to prime time, and as he basked in fleeting fame, you were left to wither under the weight of a dreaded illness. When he was ultimately taken down by his own deceitful schemes, it felt like a cruel twist of fate for you both.

When Vox woke in hell, he wasn’t surprised. In fact, he felt a strange sense of contentment; he knew he had courted darkness throughout his life. A con man’s rise to fame was paved with the broken dreams of others, and he’d danced on that line with reckless abandon. Yet, the greatest cost was the loss of you—his little angel, the only light that could have guided him from the shadows. Perhaps, if he had kept you by his side, he might have found redemption instead of ruin.

Years in hell stretched on, dull and monotonous, much like his time as a TV host. He made acquaintances, and he made enemies. He learned from the notorious Radio Demon, their relationship evolving into a rivalry as fierce as it was complex. Valentino entered the picture, a partnership forged in the fires of self-interest, followed by Velvette, who added her own chaotic flair to their strange trio. Despite these new connections, Vox could never fully release you from his heart. How could he let go of his first love, the girl who had filled his world with color?

Vox kept tabs on you long ago when you two still walked among the living, an unyielding shadow lurking in the corners of your life. He was a shady man, after all, so it was no surprise that he employed someone to follow you and your family. He needed to know you were loved and cared for, even if it meant watching from the sidelines. Your life blossomed into something beautiful—a picture-perfect family, Sunday church outings, laughter echoing through the halls of your home. Each glimpse of your happiness twisted the knife in his heart, a reminder of what he had lost. He only wished now here in hell he could have a moment to see you once more.

Yet, you never looked back at him, not once. Even when he learned you were sick, he held onto the hope that your devoted husband would nurse you back to health. Instead, you spent your final years in a realm far brighter than hell, surrounded by family, while Vox remained trapped in the shadows.

Then, one fateful day, the story took an unforeseen turn. You, Y/N L/N, the great-granddaughter of the woman who once bore the same name and likeness, found yourself in a world steeped in piety and predictability. Your family’s life revolved around the church—Sunday services, Bible studies, and summer camps that felt more like shackles than blessings.

Yet you, the wild child among your siblings and the first daughter in generations, danced on the edge of rebellion. Your spirit, a fiery blend of your grandmother’s beauty and the reckless charm of a man she once sought to escape late into the night with, burned brightly. You lived humbly, taking only what you needed in the daylight, but at night that didn’t stop you from indulging in the vices that thrilled your heart—partying, drinking, and seeking freedom in every forbidden encounter.

As you stepped into adulthood, the veil of your misdeeds was ripped away, exposing the wild and reckless girl you had been. On your eighteenth birthday, the news broke like a thunderclap, echoing through your conservative town. Whispers turned to shouts as tales of your high school escapades spread like wildfire—parties, late nights, and indiscretions that painted you as the black sheep of your family.

In a desperate attempt to salvage your reputation, your parents enrolled you in a Christian college, hoping the structure would steer you back to the righteous path. But even there, with the pressure of expectations weighing heavily on you, you found ways to maintain your hedonistic lifestyle. You studied hard, yes, but the allure of nightlife was too intoxicating to resist. By the time you turned twenty-four, your antics had once again come to light, revealing just how unladylike and un-Christian your behavior had truly become.

Disowned by your family, you were cast out like a forgotten relic, but it hardly stung. You had siblings aplenty—golden children who fit the mold your parents desired. While they basked in their parents' approval, you reveled in your newfound freedom, embracing a life unshackled from the burdens of propriety. You danced through life with a wild abandon, each misstep a badge of honor in your quest for self-discovery.

But this exhilarating freedom came crashing down one fateful night. On the eve of your twenty-eighth birthday, you found yourself at a pulsating club, surrounded by friends who matched your energy. Laughter and music melded into a cacophony of joy, and for a moment, the weight of your past felt distant. But as the night wore on, everything blurred. A drink, laced with malice, slipped into your hand, and before you knew it, the world around you faded to black.

When you came to, the vibrant lights and music were replaced by an oppressive stillness. You blinked, disoriented, trying to piece together what had happened. Panic surged through you as you recognized your surroundings—a hellish landscape bathed in a sinister shade of red. The air was thick with a suffocating heat, and the ground beneath you felt like it was pulsating with a malevolent energy.

The reality of your situation crashed down like a wave, and you realized you were no longer in the world you had known. You had crossed an unforgiving threshold, one that led straight into this hellish landscape. Memories of your life flashed before your eyes—your family’s disappointment, your reckless choices, the fleeting moments of joy that now seemed tainted.

As you struggled to rise, the shadows began to shift and swirl around you, whispering secrets of despair and temptation. You knew you were exactly where you belonged, a place you practically through yourself at the minute you were old enough to disobey your family. You were killed and now resting here in the pits of hell.

In those fleeting moments, you understood that you weren’t just a victim of circumstance from one bad drink; you were a participant in your own chaotic narrative. The life you had led and the choices you had made brought you here, and now, in this twisted realm, you had the chance to confront the consequences of your actions. 

With a mixture of fear and defiance, you steeled yourself, ready to navigate this dark new world. You would face whatever challenges awaited you, determined to reclaim your story, even if it meant battling the demons of your past—both literally and figuratively.

You were in hell and you readily accepted this, dressed in a glitzy clubbing dress, your skin transformed to the vibrant hue of a fox’s rich orange, glinted with specks of white and black. Yet, amidst this twisted beauty, your features still bore the unsettling resemblance to your deceased great grandmother.

As the years dragged on, the brutal exterminations became increasingly difficult to evade. The once-familiar landscape of hell morphed into a relentless hunt, where survival was a cruel game of chance. Desperation gnawed at your insides, leading you to a place you had sworn to avoid—a notorious sex house owned by Valentino, a figure whose reputation sent shivers down the spines of even the most hardened souls.

You stepped into that den of sexual sin with a singular purpose: the Vee’s worker bees somehow endured the purges, and you were desperate to escape the clutches of a second death. With a resolve, you signed up to be 'looked at' for a position among his girls, hoping to cling to life a little longer.

What you encountered inside was an atmosphere so charged with depravity it felt like a physical weight pressing down on you. The air was thick with the heady scent of desperation and lust, mingling with the sharp tang of sweat and smoke. You had pushed boundaries in your past life, but this was another level entirely. As nausea rose in your throat, you instinctively turned to prayer—a futile gesture in this place of darkness.

But in that moment of vulnerability, your fate took a turn. Valentino’s gaze locked onto yours, and you became acutely aware of the power dynamics at play. You were stunning, a rare gem in a world where foxes were coveted for their allure, and you were an easy choice for Val, despite your lack of experience in the kind of intensity he demanded.

Fortune, it seemed, was on your side. Within hours, you found yourself promoted, thrust into the orbit of Angel Dust, a top star in this grim world, and whisked away to Vee's Tower, where the underbelly of the film industry thrived. At first, your work was relatively tame, as Angel had angered Val, bearing the brunt of the wrath while you breathed a sigh of relief. You grew to enjoy the role, finding unexpected camaraderie with Velvette, the costume designer whose creativity brought a splash of color to the otherwise bleak environment. She was a refreshing presence, a stark contrast to the calculating Val.

Yet, the shadows loomed ever closer. Angel’s absence, demanded by the princess of hell, left you standing alone in a spotlight that felt increasingly dangerous. Whispers of Val’s violent tendencies echoed in your mind, tales of how he had ruthlessly eliminated two of Velvette’s models and three of Vox’s interns. Fear coursed through your veins as you perched on a plum-red bed, clad in a navy blue lingerie set, feeling like prey waiting to be devoured.

And then, without warning, the door swung open. You braced yourself, only to find not Val, but a strikingly handsome man with a television for a head. It was Vox, the elusive figure you had only heard whispers about. You leaned forward, captivated by the confrontation unfolding before you, the tension crackling in the air like electricity.

But then Val’s eyes landed on you, and his smile widened, a predatory gleam igniting within them. “My dear Voxypoo,” Val purred, “how about we make a deal? I’ll apologize for my misdeeds towards your interns in exchange for Hermosa over here.” 

Your heart raced as Vox’s eyes widened in recognition, his gaze locking onto you with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. An unexpected jolt of electricity surged through you, mingling with fear and a spark of something dangerously close to desire. You were caught in a web of fate, and as the stakes rose higher, you realized that your story in this hell was only just beginning.

You had never met this man before a day in your life, yet an inexplicable pull drew you toward him, a magnetic static crackling in the air around him. “Oh Vox, if you don’t want her, that’s fine. I plan on her taking Angel’s role today. The damn spider is off playing games with the princessa bitch,” Valentino sneered, and your heart sank. Fear coursed through your veins like ice water; the realization hit you hard—he intended to use you in one of those scenes, to thrust you into the depths of humiliation and despair.

“She's a high commodity; I’m sure her soul would be mine after—” Val’s voice trailed off, but you couldn’t grasp what was happening next. One moment, you were trembling in fear, and the next, a whirlwind of chaos erupted. Valentino’s eyes swirled with ominous black and red spirals as the shoot was abruptly canceled, the tension snapping like a frayed wire.

A navy blue jacket was draped over your shoulders, and a firm hand helped you to your feet. “Come with me. You will be working in VoxTech from now on. Understood?” Vox’s voice was steady, but you could only nod, relief flooding through you at the thought of escaping Val’s clutches, at least for now.

You were still ensnared in the web of the Vee’s world, but perhaps you could choose the cranky TV man who seemed more enigmatic than predatory. Maybe you could carve out a semblance of a life, away from the chaos that had become your existence.

Following Vox, you traversed the unfamiliar corridors of Vee’s Tower, finally arriving in a room that felt distinctly different from the others. The walls were lined with large screens displaying chaotic scenes from around hell, and a solitary chair sat in the center, casting a shadow like a throne of power. “W-Where are we? Val never brought me here?” you stammered, confusion clouding your mind.

He hesitated, swallowing hard. Was this place a reflection of his past? Did you really resemble someone he had lost? The thought flickered through his mind, but Vox regained his composure and sat down, turning on the myriad of cameras that monitored the chaos outside. “This is my office. You will grow acquainted with it, as you will be my personal assistant.”

A wave of dread washed over you. So you weren’t free from the chains of servitude; you were merely swapping one form of obedience for another. His gaze flicked toward you, and he must have seen the pain etched in your features because he added, “You will do nothing more for me than paperwork, gather intel, and help set up schedules.” He motioned for you to leave, his tone dismissive yet oddly gentle.

“This floor has eight unused apartments. Choose one and message me; I will unlock it for you, and you can create your own secure pin to come and go.” His words felt like a lifeline, yet the way he avoided looking at you left a strange knot in your stomach.

Nodding, you stepped out, still wrapped in his jacket, a strange comfort amidst the chaos. You wandered the floor until you found a room that resonated with you—a sanctuary away from the dirt and grime of your past. After messaging Vox, you entered, marveling at the unexpected upgrade. How had you managed to elevate your circumstances so easily?

Lying back on the bed, you gazed up at the ceiling, trying to piece together the fragments of your new life. You were seeking refuge, had become Val’s plaything, narrowly escaped abuse because of a cranky TV man who wouldn’t even look at you. What an absurd turn of events—what the hell was happening?

A deep sigh escaped your lips as you changed into comfortable clothes, the tension of the day beginning to ebb away. Just as sleep began to weave its way into your mind, a soft chime from your phone startled you awake. Vox had messaged you, detailing the new daily routine you would follow to assist him. 

Setting an alarm, you nestled into bed, uncertainty swirling in your thoughts like a restless storm. What would the next day bring? Would it be more of the same, or perhaps a glimmer of hope in this hellish landscape? As you drifted off, the questions lingered, weaving through your dreams like shadows, leaving you on the brink of something you couldn’t yet comprehend.

------------------------Time Skip-------------------------

Vox quickly grew to love your company over the last three years, though Vox knew deep down that you weren’t the woman he had loved in his youth. You were almost her replica—a haunting echo of the past—but with a wilder, more untamed spirit. As he watched you laugh, your eyes sparkling with mischief, he found himself drawn to that wildness even more. It was as if fate had conspired to create you just for him, a masterpiece crafted by your great-grandmother’s whims.

Yet, he never dared to reveal this connection, fearing it might shatter the fragile friendship that had blossomed between you. Yes, friendship—nothing more or less. However, with each passing day, he found himself surrendering to the undeniable truth that he had fallen for you harder than he ever had for your great-grandmother. 

No matter how many times he insisted that he was merely helping an old friend, a beacon of support for someone who had been torn from him, he couldn’t deny the intoxicating pull you had on him. At first, it had been your striking looks that captivated him, but as time wore on, it was your vibrant personality that ensnared his heart. You were everything Vox craved and needed on a biblical level; an irony he chuckled at, considering he hadn’t picked up a Bible since your great-grandmother had left him.

His mind was spiraling, his hypnosis streams were intensifying, and his push for innovative Vox tech was reaching a fever pitch. He even managed to score a narrow victory against Alastor, all thanks to you. How could one person be so perfectly oblivious to the advances he so desperately tried to make?

No one had ever worn his watches, draped themselves in his jackets, or even held his cherished pocket squares—except for you. But a troubling realization swept over him: all the advances he made were rooted in his time period, not yours. Your great-grandmother may have swooned at his charm, but you probably saw him as nothing more than a friend. In that moment, he knew he was utterly doomed.

You genuinely enjoyed working for Vox, relishing the opportunity to utilize your strengths. With a degree in entertainment and public relations, you found it easy to navigate the world of hypnotic persuasion he wielded. You were a wizard at uncovering people’s weak spots, providing Vox with ample ammunition against his personal enemies.

Almost immediately, you had become Vox’s young, gorgeous vixen. You liked the title so much that you gradually stopped using your real name, opting instead for the playful 'V' theme. Yet, Vox never referred to you by that name—always your real name, accompanied by a distant look that gnawed at your insides.

It had taken a year for him to truly see you, another year for him to stop freezing like a computer caught in a loop, and now, in this last year, he finally spoke without those awkward buffering noises. 

You never understood why he had chosen you as his assistant if he struggled to be around you. But you were content, especially since you had escaped Valentino’s grasp. You felt lucky that the exterminations had ceased shortly after you joined Vox. You often reassured yourself that if they ever resumed, you would leave—but the truth was, you were too attached to the enigmatic, awkward TV man.

You couldn’t deny the chemistry crackling between the two of you. He sent sparks racing through your body, igniting your nervous system with a thrilling energy. He was handsome in a classic, old-school way, the type of man your father would approve of—if only they never got to know he was a con artist. 

Every fiber of your being screamed to be with him, to unravel the layers of his soul and understand him in a way that transcended mere friendship. He was smooth-talking, undeniably hot, and invading your dreams more each night, leaving you craving his presence even more. The tension hung thick in the air, a tantalizing promise of what could be, if only you dared to cross the line that separated friendship from something infinitely more profound.

It was utterly embarrassing—sneaking down to the old production studio, heart racing, just to rent out some toys that would let you indulge in your fantasies of being with Vox. He had never once hypnotized you, but you were undeniably under his spell, enchanted by his presence in every way.

“Vox, I got you the meeting with Carmilla about the angelic steel and its reproduction,” you announced, trying to keep your voice steady despite the fluttering in your stomach. “I also secured a meeting with the health district to discuss the drug you want to utilize.” You had become extra vigilant lately, making a concerted effort to show him your interest. Your skirts grew shorter, your tops had fewer buttons, and your heels reached dizzying heights, showcasing your legs to their best advantage.

You were the death of him, and he knew it was only a matter of time before his composure crumbled completely. You were tantalizingly close, yet he felt he couldn’t take advantage of your affections. The scars from his past ran deep; he didn’t want to go through that kind of heartache again. Even if your father couldn’t steal you away like your great-grandmother had been stolen from him, the odd connection to family made him reluctant to risk your bond.

But the way you presented yourself, dressed to entice, sent a tent of desire straining against the fabric of his pants. It felt as though he was being dragged through heaven, hell, and every place in between. He knew you were in hell in your own way, unlike your great-grandmother, but damn, did you have to be so deliciously tempting?

“Thank you, Y/N. I’ll be getting off early today due to an issue with Val. If you could make sure the cleaners come in here and do their job properly, I’d appreciate it,” he said, his voice calm and cool, eyes never lifting from the screen. 

He was an enigma, nearly impossible to crack, seemingly showing no interest in you at all. Sighing, you nodded and began clearing his schedule; his fights with Val tended to stretch on longer than they should. You made sure to leave a dinner reminder for him and then headed out to retrieve the cleaning staff.

When you returned, you monitored the cleaning process closely. Vox usually preferred his tech to handle the cleaning, but today he insisted that his computers and TVs needed a “Sinners touch” to avoid any mishaps. You settled into his large chair, humming softly, legs crossed, watching as the young, fish-like boy worked diligently.

Out of the corner of your eye, a faint blue glow caught your attention. Vox was typically meticulous about shutting everything down before leaving, yet this one tab remained open. Half of you wanted to close it and move on with your life, but the other half—the curious, daring part—couldn’t resist the temptation. 

With a deep breath, you opened the screen. A Word document sprawled across the display, pages filled with dates and passages that traced the evolution of technology from its inception to the present. Your heart raced as you scrolled through the text, but then you froze, eyes fixated on the most recent passage. 

It was a detailed account of his current hyperfixation – You. As you read on, the implications began to sink in, filling you with a mix of excitement and dread. What had Vox been planning? And how deeply did it truly involve you? 

‘She was a vision of beauty, captivating in a way that made my heart race and my thoughts spiral into chaos. I found myself wanting to take her, to make her mine in every way possible—over my bed, on the couch, against the cool surface of the counter, or sprawled across my desk. It was a reckless desire, one that threatened to unravel my composure and resolve with each passing glance. I was trying to court her like a proper gentleman, even though every instinct screamed for me to act on the primal urge that surged within me.’

‘What would she think if I finally confessed the truth? The truth of the connection that shimmered between us, electric and undeniable. If I bared my soul, revealing the reason why every time I looked at her, I felt an insatiable longing to claim her and never let her go—would she recoil in fear, or would she lean in closer? Would she despise me for the dark secrets I harbored?’

‘It was a sin, a tangled web of emotions, that I saved her not just because I had to, but because I had once been in love with her great-grandmother. If only it were simple to tell Y/N that my heart had shifted over the years, that the ghost of the past no longer haunted me as I found myself enchanted by her. I needed to steady my racing heart, but the hope of seeing more of Y/N today filled me with both excitement and dread. She had left a dinner reservation for two—was it meant for us, or was it for Val and me? My heart leaped at the possibility that it was for her and I.’

You were in shock. A torrent of questions flooded your mind, each one more bewildering than the last. How did he know your great-grandmother? How had he concealed this attraction so skillfully? The cleaner’s approach broke your reverie, and the scream that escaped your lips echoed through the building, a cacophony of confusion and fear.

With a heavy sigh, you closed everything down, your thoughts still swirling like leaves caught in a wind tunnel. You gently patted the shorter fish boy’s head, his wide eyes filled with fear and uncertainty mirroring your own. As you made your way back to your room, you collapsed onto your bed, the weight of the revelations pressing down on you.

He knew her? You squeezed your eyes shut, desperately rifling through the foggy memories of your childhood, the faded photographs that lined the walls of your mind. Your great-grandmother had passed away when your grandmother was still a child, but her belongings remained—a bittersweet reminder of a life once lived. Vaguely, you recalled a picture that had often sparked your great-grandfather's ire.

Vox was in that picture… Vox, her first love, the man who had been banished by her father, the one your great-grandfather had despised and vowed to protect his family from. He was the specter who haunted your past, a figure you were compared to when you were disowned from the family and stripped of your inheritance.

The realization hit you like a thunderclap, shattering your understanding of everything you thought you knew. How did you feel? The attraction was still there, a flicker of warmth igniting within you as you considered his little habits, the subtle ways he courted you, filling you with butterflies. But could you allow yourself to love him? Would it be wrong to care for him in that way?

You glanced at your tablet, your heart racing as you noticed the dinner reservation was in just forty-five minutes. Swallowing hard, you stood up, a newfound determination coursing through your veins. The only way to truly understand what he made you feel, to unravel this complex web of emotions, was to show up. Normally, these reservations were for Val and him, a ritual of reconciliation, but this time, you would be there for him. For you. 

You moved quickly, the anticipation coursing through your veins as you stepped into the shower, letting the warm water cascade over you like a refreshing embrace. With each drop, you washed away the remnants of your uncertainties, emerging with a renewed sense of purpose. 

Dressing became an art form; you pulled out all the stops to impress Vox. The deep ruby red pumps clicked against the floor as you slipped them on, a bold statement that added height and confidence to your stature. Black frilled lace-topped stockings clung to your legs, accentuating every curve. The navy blue long-sleeved dress hugged your figure just right, revealing just enough to showcase your best assets without losing an air of elegance. You styled your hair to perfection, cascading waves framing your face, while your makeup highlighted your features, making your eyes sparkle like stars.

It had been ages since you had gone to such lengths, not since the days of trying to impress Val, desperate to avoid his inappropriate advances. With a sigh, you shot a quick message to Vox, sharing the restaurant's destination but omitting any mention of Val. Tonight was about you and Vox, and you were determined to make the most of it.

As you stepped out of your door, your Vox Tech security bot awaited you, its sleek design a reminder of the world you inhabited. Vox had insisted on the device escorting you, and as you arrived at the restaurant, your eyes locked with Vox’s as he just arrived as well. Time seemed to pause as you both stood there, taking each other in.

To him, you were radiant, every inch of you exuding beauty and allure. His desires surged within him, overwhelming as he imagined symphonies and angelic choirs serenading your presence in this chaotic world. You, on the other hand, couldn’t help but admire his dashing figure. Though a hard day had worn on him, leaving traces of fatigue etched across his handsome features, he maintained an effortless charm. A few buttons of his shirt were undone, his cuffs slightly askew, and in that moment, you realized something profound: tonight, he would be yours, and you would be his, come what may.

A soft smile danced on your lips as you reached for his outstretched arm, feeling a rush of warmth as you entered the restaurant together. The high-end staff treated you like royalty, ushering you to a table draped in elegant linens. Once seated, you glanced up at Vox through your lashes, your expression teasing as you playfully toyed with the rim of your wine glass.

“I know about our family ties…” you said, watching as his eyes widened in surprise, a dark blush creeping across his cheeks. Was he embarrassed that you knew, or perhaps flustered by the undeniable attraction that pulsed between you? 

“I want you to know, connection or not, I feel it all too,” you added, punctuating your statement with a sly wink. His composure faltered, and you could see him short-circuiting, lost in the implications of your words.

Once he regained his composure, a soft smile broke across his face, his eyes flickering nervously as he tried to avoid the luxurious curves that had him entranced. “So this means I can finally stop dancing around and court you more publicly?” he asked, a hopeful glint in his gaze.

You couldn’t help but snort, shaking your head with a smirk. “I think we’ve passed the stage of courting, Mr. Bed, Couch, Counter, and Desk.” Your cheeks warmed at your own boldness, while his face flamed with embarrassment at your teasing. A soft giggle escaped you as you flagged down the waiter, paying for the wine that would accompany your evening.

“Let’s head back to the tower, Vox… let me help you relax after today’s tiring events.” The confidence that surged within you was intoxicating, fueled by the way he looked at you and the undeniable chemistry crackling in the air. 

You had dreamed of this moment, of nights alone together, your hand tucked beneath you in hopes of relief, but it had never been enough. Each day spent near him only deepened your addiction to the awkward yet captivating man. But with the dark, calculating look in his eyes, you knew that from this moment forward, you would be more than satisfied. 

As the evening unfolded, the world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you—two souls entwined in a dance of desire, ready to explore the depths of your connection, past and present, together. 

A chill raced down your spine as you and he stepped into his work car, the evening air thick with anticipation. He wanted to wait until you were safely hidden away in his condo before his hands roamed your body, but the magnetic pull between you was undeniable. As the engine purred to life, his fingers found their way to your thigh, gently caressing the soft fabric of your stockings. You could feel his gaze on you, hungry and intense, as you breathed heavily, caught in the electrifying moment. He was eager to claim you as his own, to make you his in every sense.

The drive felt like an eternity, each passing second stretching out as his hand danced tantalizingly close to where you craved him most. You were ablaze with desire, the thrill of his touch igniting something deep within you that had lay dormant for far too long. No one had ever made you feel this way—caught between the living and the dead, lost in a whirlwind of longing and need. You were ready to surrender completely to the man beside you, to give him every part of yourself.

When the car finally came to a halt, all semblance of self-control shattered. In one swift motion, he pulled you over the center console and into his lap, his lips crashing against yours with a fervor that stole your breath away. One hand tangled possessively in your hair while the other gripped your waist, asserting his dominance in a way that sent shivers of pleasure cascading through you.

You mirrored his urgency, your fingers gripping his shoulder and the nape of his neck, feeling the warmth radiating from him. Every kiss, every whisper of his breath against your skin, sent jolts of electricity sparking through your nerves, making you whimper into his mouth. You could feel the unmistakable evidence of his desire pressing against you, a reflection of the heated chemistry that crackled between you.

With his patience wearing thin, he pulled away, but only long enough to fling open the car door. He was acutely aware of your head as he stepped out, holding you firmly against him, making his way through the throng of Vee staff and personnel. There was no hesitation in his stride; he made it abundantly clear that you were his and his alone, a declaration that sent a thrill coursing through you.

As you rode the elevator, the air thickened with tension and need. He pressed you against the cool metal wall, his lips crashing against yours as he kissed you fervently, over and over again. His hands roamed your body with a glorious sensuality, and you could hear the soft moans and whimpers escaping him, reverberating in your chest like a sweet melody.

When the elevator doors finally opened, it was as if you were stepping into a dream. He swept you up in his arms, never breaking contact with your warmth or your mouth. With a careful grace, he navigated the threshold of his condo, ensuring you never brushed against anything sharp or hard, as if he wanted to preserve this fragile moment forever. The world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you, wrapped in each other, ready to explore the depths of your desire.

The sensations heightened once you two entered his bedroom as he gently set you on the bed. He was careful to lay you down, slotting himself between your legs. He hummed quietly in the kiss as he enjoyed the feeling and taste of you. You were, finally, his, and he could have you all he wanted here. You offered no protests.

You raked your hands over his arms and chest, slipping behind his back, scratching gently with your nails on any skin you could find. Vox's sounds, the same frequent heat, and need, were identical to yours. Everything begged you to take your clothes off and take him.

Vox pulled away, looking down at you for the first time since tonight's escapades began. A sloppy, lopsided grin was on his face as he moved the hair from your face. "Are you sure you want this doll?"

You gave him one soft nod, and all bets were off. Before you could utter another word, a moan was pulled from your lips as he kissed down your neck and pulled on the base of your hair. Soft pants left you, and you felt the tension pool in your core. How long have you two wanted this?

Sighing softly and pushing into Vox's clothed crotch, he growled low and kissed you roughly. Hands roamed your body, and your dress was slowly unclasped from your body. Your chest became exposed, and the most beautiful red bra he had ever seen was on display upon your delicate body. Even Val's porn stars had nothing on the sight of you half undressed before him.

As if dreams were becoming reality, he shivered as you slowly pushed his jacket off and tugged him down by his dress shirt. Kissing him, you worked on his buttons, running your hands along his torso once it was freed. Both of you shivered in delight and need as the other touched what was finally theirs.

Vox kissed back down your neck, leaving marks all across you, and landed on your breasts. Each one gets a solid mark right on the top where your cleavage sat. His lips teased the sensitive flesh. His arms snaked around you as he lifted you gently to unclasp the bra. Once it was off, he could feel the drool not only on his tongue but his cock head as well.

He hummed in delight as he bowed down and wrapped his blue tongue around one perky bud, the other gaining his talons' attention as he made you mewl for him. He was in heaven—here, right now, was his little heaven with his little angel. He switched between the two buds until they were too sensitive from his menstruation. "V-Vox, please, too much...need more...please..." You didn't mean to sound like a young virgin, but it was all too good to feel any other type of way. Soon, you felt the pressure above you leave as he stood up at the edge of the bed. Gently, he took your leg, resting your foot on his chest. He kissed your ankle and calf, taking your tights from the garter on your thigh. Slowly, he took the garments off and got a perfect sight right up your dress. Your pretty red underwear was stained wet from your need.

"Tell me, Y/N, where do you need me most? What do you need most? Tell me, and I will happily deliver it all to you, doll, whatever you need." He sounded so good saying that. His voice was an octave lower as he was already pussy drunk. You whimpered gently and sighed when he moved on to the next leg, removing the garments

"Need you between my legs Vox, so so many toys...none of them you," Your words sent a spark through him. He now understood today's argument with Val; some toys in the production studio had been missing, and his little Vixen took them. He smiled wide and fell to his knees at the edge of the bed.

"Your wish is my command, doll," He grabbed your waist, pulling you close to him. He shoved your dress up higher on your hips, having it bunch up on your stomach. Slowly, he ran a claw down your clothed heat. With each stroke of his claw, his mouth moved closer from your knee to your core. He always managed to miss where you wanted him most, though.

When you went to complain, however, you were interrupted by the cold sting to your cunt as he ripped the panties off completely. You gasped and cried out when Vox's long slender blue tongue licked a deep stripe up your soaking cunt. "Taste so good, doll, like my own apple pie, so fucking delicious," His menstruations didn't stop there, however, as Vox began to devour you like a man starved.

Your legs spread wider for him as he slotted himself against your cunt. His tongue was making circles on your puffy bud. Your head was thrown back as you grasped onto the bed for dear life. You needed him. Each tongue swirls and thrusts, sending you one step closer to your breaking point. At some point, your legs began to close, and all you could feel was a thread snapping. Vox didn't let up, though. If anything, he abused your clit and sucked you dry further.

When you began to cry and beg for relief, he stopped and pulled up, climbing back on top of you and kissing you hungrily. You could taste yourself on him as you felt his need press against your cunt. You needed more. "Please, Vox, take me, please, please; I need to be full and stuffed."

He thought he had heard angels earlier. He was dead wrong. What he heard then and was now hearing were two completely different planes of reality. He made quick work of his pants and boxers as you resituated on the bed. He slowly crawled back over you, kissing you deeply again. When he got between your legs and slotted himself right where you needed him, you moaned quietly.

Slowly, Vox entered you, both holding your breaths and breathing out together. He was so big, filling you to the brim while you were tight on him. He finally opened his eyes when he bottomed out and saw the most beautiful sight. Your tummy bulged out where his cock sat. Groaning in need, he pushed down on the bump and growled. "Oh, look at this baby, look at how deep I am, I will fill you up so full."

You cried, nodding, holding on to him for dear life. Your legs wrapped around his waist as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. He felt so thick and full as he abused your cunt with his deliberate speed. However, you knew he was coming to an end as well; he was pent up just as long as you were, and as his hips stuttered, you finally felt it, the whole feeling you had wished for since seeing the TV man.

Sighing, he rolled onto his back, keeping himself slotted in you. He held your hand close, playing with your hair. "Stay with me, Y/N, let me give you everything after life can offer."

You hummed softly and nodded, your eyes growing heavy. Life with Vox would be perfect, and you couldn't have been happier that you, Y/N L/N, got to live the carefree life your great-grandmama once wished for.

[yandere-romanticaa]

trigger warning: abuse, animal death, malnutrition, my horrible writing. not proofread, we die like men!

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐍 - part 1. (you are here!)

masterlist.

The bitter scent of nicotine clings to him wherever he goes, his cold, brown eyes devoid of life as he wakes up and gets ready for another day. Every day is the same - wake up, get ready for work, work, head back home, rinse and repeat. He was living. But, he was not alive.

As long as he could remember, this was the life which Viktor Martinović (read as Martinovich) was leading.

Growing up his family was always distant. Cold. Even scattered at times. He had some siblings, some alive, others long gone from the Earth. To him they were all like air, non-existent and invisible but yet oh so relevant. His father hailed from Croatia while his mother was an American. Viktor could recall some more peaceful times as he would sit on the front porch of his house, his grandmother serving him tea while his grandfather told him many stories. Be it folklore, urban legends, random stories he made up, Viktor loved them all. Unfortunately, he could not see his grandparents very often as they lived in the US and the cost of travel was a rare luxury to him.

The time he spent with his grandparents was precious. He was positive that it was the only time he felt true joy and tranquility. With them he could be a little boy and do what all the little boys did - run around the streets with his feet bare, fall hard onto the ground and skin his knees, find dead animals on the ground and poke at their remains.

That last thing became a favorite past time of his.

Be it birds, dogs, cats, hedgehogs, no tiny critter was safe from his clutches. At first he did nothing but poke the dead critter with some random stick. Its lifeless eyes would stare back at Viktor, taunting him to take more action. However, one day his father caught him poking a mangled little bird which Viktor did not understand was wrong. The anatomy of the animal had caught his interest and he had no other children to play with. What was so wrong with having a hobby? His horrified father dragged Viktor by the ear back home that day, his grip so tight that crescent shaped marks were left behind on the soft skin due to his fingernails.

His father was an awfully conservative man. Everything and everyone had their place in the home and that included Viktor, who just happened to be at the bottom of the food chain because he was the youngest. Viktor does not remember his fathers face very well.

He never liked him.

All meals would start with prayer and would end with his mother and sisters putting away the plates, sometimes with Viktor's aid. He wanted to be good. He wanted to be useful. His father always taught him that he was a man and that men needed to be strong. This is not something you should concern yourself with, his father told him one chilly autumn morning.

This is a woman's duty, said his stone-faced father.

He was around 8 years old when his beatings started.

Despite his young age, Viktor was a very gifted child. He understood that something was off about his family. The way in which his siblings would flinch away once father entered the room, the way mother was always in a hurry to serve him coffee and a hot meal the moment he got back home despite being on her feet all day set him on edge.

He was very sensitive when it came to his mother.

She was his first and only real friend. She was his rock, his hero. Viktor was often sick which caused him to be physically frail and weak. His complexion was always pale as a ghost, his lips always thin and bloody from him gnawing on them and his tiny hands were always covered in cuts and bruises. The eldest brother in particular always just loved to make fun of Viktor when it came to his lack of strength. You can't even break into a sprint!, the cruel boy would taunt him as he held Viktor's book high up in the air, tearing pieces of the pages in the process.

Viktor hated his brother. He loathed him. Religion was not something he was 100% sure he believed in but during evening prayers, Viktor would always put his concentration on the fact that he wished his brother was dead. A grizzly thought indeed.

He wished for him to die the cruelest, most painful death imaginable.

The older he got, his dream only seemed to grow further and further away.

His two sisters never paid any attention to Viktor unless it was absolutely necessary, such as clothing or bathing him. Viktor was not capable of doing many things on his own because he was like a little doll. Frail and easy to break. He lived in a big house in coastal Croatia, an old city known as Dubrovnik, where the summer was long and the sun shined so bright that Viktor never wanted to go outside because his pale skin would turn a disgusting red even with the tiniest of exposure. He would spend his days locked away in his room, reading, studying or maybe playing a game which he had stolen from his brother.

He always took a little pride in the fact that his brother never caught him being so sly.

His sisters would usually be in school in the afternoon or somewhere out and about while his mother took care of the chores. Despite his fathers words, Viktor wanted to help her in any way he could. His heart would melt at the sight of his mother as she would lean down to give him a kiss on his forehead, her tired eyes shining with love. She would never give him tasks which could tire him too much which the young boy silently was thankful for. His favorite chore was chopping up vegetables and meat and in no time, he became quite skilled with using the blade. If it was possible Viktor even started to carve intricate shapes from fruits and vegetables, usually roses because his mother was very keen on them.

She never had the heart to eat any of them.

The outside world was filled with squeals of laughing children, frustrated fishermen and the bustling tides but Viktor did not need that world.

He had his own little bubble which he was more than content with. It was also convenient for him that he was homeschooled, which allowed him to spend even more time with his beloved mother. She was a doctor and a really good one too. Other than teaching him the basics such as reading, writing and mathematics, she would often throw in some more obscure things such as philosophy and anatomy. She taught him about the human body, where each organ was and their purposes.

Viktor was always enamored with this vast sea of knowledge.

The human body is like a machine, his mother would say. Treat it well and it will operate well.

Time passed. Viktor had started to grow and was 11 years old now. He was still sick, still useless according to his father. The man was a renowned fisherman and would always bring home the biggest and best kills. He would take his eldest boy with him and teach him everything he knew, hoping that one day his son would become a master at this craft as well.

Viktor hardly ever went on these trips. The sea was a cruel mistress and weak men could not be near it. His father had barely managed to teach him the basics but the scorching sun and the bustling activity was too much for him. Viktor's skinny little fingers would always be injured from carrying the heavy cargo, which his brother always made sure to make even more difficult for him by giving him even more to carry.

He was a lost cause when it came to fishing, which was his family's main source of income.

No matter, Viktor would think.

He had his own skill sets which those baboons could never understand.

Viktor would hone his skills with the blade in secret, his usual victim for practice being the very fish which were caught earlier that day. Sometimes he would stay up all night and sneak up back into his room at the crack of dawn, his hands smelling horribly which caused his sisters to gag a little if they caught a whiff of the air. Viktor studied the insides of the fishes, taking dutiful notes and hiding them all in the wooden floorboards where nobody could find them. Scattered carcasses of other animals become precious to him as he always had to be swift lest he wished to be caught by someone. Hiding them was always a pain and concealing the smell was the hardest task he could just barely pull off.

Not all secrets can be kept hidden though. Viktor found out that the hard way when his brother caught him dissecting a dead poodle. Viktor fell to his knees and begged his brother to not spill the beans, fat tears caking his face as he hiccuped horribly, his whole body shaking like a leaf. His brother merely looked down at him with a sneer as he shouted for their father to come to the garage. As Viktor heard the approaching footsteps his heart was beating so hard that he was positive that he was going to die of a heart attack right then and there.

His brother was the devil. The exact replica of his father. He was in every way, his son.

Viktor could not walk or talk properly for three months after that incident. He became something akin to a dying houseplant, unmovable and withering away in the darkness. He stopped eating completely and became skinnier than ever. His father locked him in his room but took his books away just to add more salt to the wound. Countless days passed and Viktor was rotting in bed, slowly dying from the lack of sustenance and the massive sorrow which took over his very being. Spring had been long gone and summer was over as well. He didn't even realize that it was October.

It was his birthday.

On October 31st, Viktor was woken up with a soft knock on his wooden door. It was his mother, who was holding a tray filled with food. There was even a little chocolate flavored cupcake with a single candle sticking on top, the whick not quite lit yet. His mother wished him a happy birthday and shared the meal with him. Viktor ate the food quietly, his appetite not quite out there but was still grateful for the miniature feast. His mother took out a small lighter and lit the candle.

Make a wish dear, she said softly.

Viktor gripped his sheets with all of his remaining strength, his knuckles so tight that he almost injured himself. He could feel the delicate touch of his mother who sat next to him, her presence like the calm evening breeze. With a sigh, Viktor closed his eyes but before he could blow out the candle a thought popped into his mind -

Just what was he going to wish for?

He did not see himself making it far in life despite his top notch grades. His family, father in particular, would always drag him down back to the ground. All of the money they had would most likely go to his siblings with just a tiny inheritance left to his name and when his parents both eventually passed the entire estate would go to his brother.

A lump formed in his throat as Viktor came to the realization that he had nothing to live for. He had no one on this Earth other than his mother.

He was no better than a ghost.

However, ghosts could not rest until they fulfilled some sort of quota in their lives, that one last thing for them to do so that they can finally take their final breath and bid their old life goodbye.

That goodbye came in the form of a cough.

It was his father.

His dark eyes stared down at Viktor, a strange glint of determination shining brightly inside them. With his arms crossed and mind set, he spoke:

"The weather may not be ideal but it is advantageous for your.... condition. You will not rot away in the sun, nor in this room like some coward."

His father took a few strides closer towards him, his footsteps so heavy that he could feel the floor creak beneath the heavy pressure. Viktor felt his whole body tense up as he was forced to look his father in the eye, his teeth clenching so tightly that it felt as though his jaw was going to break from the pressure. The only thing that gave him an iota of comfort was the fluffy blanket across his body, its softness a weak shield in stark contrast to the rough man before him. Viktor felt his fathers hand land on his shoulder, his touch disturbingly friendlier than usual.

"You will head out with your brother soon, to the sea. It is time you start pulling your own weight properly. I won't ever allow any son of mine to be weak."

Viktor's eyes widened - Christ, how could this be happening? Why was this happening? Cold terror came over him as he felt his lunch threatening to be spilt all over his parents.

It was soon prevented by a thought. A very devious thought.

On this little excursion it was just going to be him and his brother. All alone, at sea. The only thing keeping watch over them would be the grey stormy clouds high above them.

And just like that, Viktor had hatched a plan.

There was no going back from this moment.

🔪 TAGS: @shamelessdarkprince, @latolover, @yandere-wishes, @moyazami, @sunhareskies, @connorsui

Ahaha, here it is, the long awaited backstory for my OC, who finally has a full name! I decided to split it into several parts because it was getting kind of long and I really just wanted to post something about this guy. The demand for him is honestly kind of silly... Dare I say overwhelming even.

If you have any criticisms, ideas, complaints, literally anything - I'm all ears! My askbox is always open for a chit chat!

[stephstars08]

Haters to Mates

Neteyam x Omaticaya!Reader

Warnings: Fluff with a tiny bit of Angst, Neteyam getting Wounded, Reader almost getting killed by the Sky People, Anxiety and Maybe Grammar Errors. (Don’t Think I Forgot Any)

Summary: Y/N and Neteyam’s parents want them to become mates when they grow up but growing up Y/N completely despised Neteyam until they became teens and Neteyam saved her from an attack by the Sky People. Ever since that day she saw Neteyam in a whole completely different way!

Word Count: 1,215

Author’s Note: I am so sorry that this short and I am so sorry I kept pushing the release date of this story. I had a bit of a hectic week last week but everything is back to normal so thank you for your patience! Hope everyone had a good holiday weekend and hope you enjoy this short story! Also all photos in the cover are from Pintrest so credit to the Pintrest users for these photos!

Y/N and Neteyam were both born into the Omaticaya clan during the same time period so of course they were destined to mate with one another since Y/N’s parents grew up with Neytiri so when Neytiri’s first child came out as a boy it was a dream come true. Neteyam is only a couple days older than Y/N. Which he used a lot against her while they grew up side by side one another. When they were little, they completely despised each other. Y/N and Neteyam would constantly fight about every little thing.

When Kiri was born Y/N became very close to her. When Kiri got older Y/N would always hang out with her. When Y/N would be out in the forest playing a game with Kiri or just hanging out talking about girl stuff, Neteyam and his little brother Lo’ak would pull a prank on the them.

But turns out the reason why Neteyam would pick on Y/N is because he has feelings for her. Like every young boy he didn’t know how to show his feelings for Y/N in the right way. He just always wanted to have her attention.

Y/N didn’t always have feelings for Neteyam till he saved her from an attack by the sky people. When Y/N and Neteyam hit their teen years the sky people had returned to Pandora. Y/N was almost crushed by a falling tree till Neteyam came flying in on his Ikran. Neteyam grabbed her by one of her arms and helped her climbed up behind him onto his Ikran. Ever since that day Y/N has looked at Neteyam in a whole completely new way.

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

Y/N was sitting in her hut with her mom helping her make supper when Lo’ak showed up. When Y/N looked over at him standing in the doorway, she could tell something was wrong. “Lo’ak, what’s wrong?” Y/N asked him with worry in her voice as she stood up. “Neteyam got hurt today during battle.” Lo’ak told her which immediately made her heart rate speed up. “What?” Y/N said as her nerves started to pace. “Is he going to be alright?” Y/N’s mother asked him with concern in her voice. “Yeah, he’s getting patched up by Kiri and our grandmother.” Lo’ak reassured but Y/N and her mom could still see the worry look in his yellow eyes.

“Can you please take me to him.” Y/N asked him. She knew seeing Neteyam would help calm her nerves down. Lo’ak just gave her a nod. Y/N told her mom that she’ll be back by the time supper will be done and followed Lo’ak to the medical hut.

When she followed Lo’ak into the hut she saw Mo’at and Kiri attending to wounds on Neteyam’s back. Tuk and Spider were hanging outside the hut. She figured that they wanted Spider to keep Tuk busy since she is the baby of the Sully’s and shouldn’t see her older brother in this state.

“Oh, Neteyam.” Y/N said in concern which made him look up at her and Lo’ak. “Lo’ak, I told you not to go and bother her!” Neteyam said with frustration in his tone as he shot a glare at his little brother. “She deserved to know that you got hurt!” Lo’ak told his stubborn older brother with sternness in his tone. Neteyam knew Lo’ak was right. “You didn’t have to bring her here.” Neteyam said looking away from Y/N and his brother. Y/N spoke before Lo’ak could. “I insisted for him to bring me.” Y/N told him. Neteyam just stayed silent as he looked down at the ground.

“He get’s really moody when he’s in pain.” Kiri told Y/N giving her a sly smile. Neteyam let out a hiss of a mixture of frustration and pain from the medicine Mo’at was putting on his back. “Told you.” Kiri said which made him roll his eyes.

“You go wait outside with Tuk and Spider.” Y/N told Lo’ak since she can tell that he’s got a lot going on in his head and seeing his older brother wounded isn’t helping. Lo’ak just gave her a nod and walked out of the hut.

Y/N walked over to Neteyam and sat down next to him. She took one of his hands into hers which made him look up at her. “Just give my hand a squeeze if it stings.” Y/N told him with a comforting smile. “Okay.” Neteyam told her with a nod.

Y/N stayed there till Mo’at and Kiri were done and then she left back to her hut to eat supper with her parents and little sister.

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

After Y/N finished eating she went to the Sully’s hut to check up on Neteyam but he wasn’t there. Kiri told her that she heard Neteyam say to Lo’ak that he was going to take a fly on his Ikran. Y/N got to her Ikran and decided to sly over the forest to look for Neteyam since she wants to check up on him. When Y/N spotted both Neteyam and his Ikran she landed down next to his Ikran. She hopped off her Ikran and walked over to him. He was sitting on a log. Y/N sat down next to him.

“You know you should be resting.” Y/N told him in a stern tone. Neteyam just stayed silent as he stared out at what was in front of them. “Why didn’t you want me to see you?” Y/N asked looking at him with a soft look in her yellow eyes. “I didn’t want you to see me in that state.” Neteyam told her avoiding her soft gaze. “Neteyam, do you think that I would think that you are weak because you got hurt during battle?” Y/N asked him. Neteyam just stayed silent. “Neteyam.” Y/N said taking one of his hands which made him finally look over at her. “Do you?” Neteyam asked her. “No, I would never think that you are weak.” Y/N told him in a reassuring tone. “You saved my life.” Y/N reminded him. Neteyam just nodded looking away from her, but Y/N let go of his hand and turned his head back towards her, so he was looking at her again.

“I see you as a hero. Not just a hero to me but a hero to our whole clan.” Y/N told him. “Do you see me as anything else?” Neteyam asked her as their eyes locked onto one another’s. Y/N gave him a nod as her response. “And that is?” Neteyam asked her in a curious tone. Y/N decided to show him instead of telling him, so she leaned in and connected her lips with his. Neteyam was taken by surprise by the kiss, but he still returned the kiss. He felt like he was in a dream since he’s been waiting for this moment his whole life.

When they pulled away from the kiss, they rested their foreheads against one another’s. “I also see you as the man I’m excited to spend the rest of my life with.” Y/N told him as her lips curved up into a smile. “I like that better than the hero.” Neteyam told her with a big smile on his face. Y/N couldn’t help but let out a giggle as she continued to stare deeply into his eyes.

[merakiui]

intermission yandere!azul thought: azul thought he lost you when his parents divorced, but a chance reunion during breeding season convinces him of fate. a long-buried love resurfaces and with it the mounting greed and desire.

(cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, stepcest, nsfw, female reader, breeding/oviposition, gentle dub-con/coercion, obsession, one-sided attraction in which azul loves you, but you only see him as family, characters written as 18+)

When his birth parents first married, Azul's father had been caring for you, a daughter who had come from another set of parents, found drifting on a lone current. Aged two, you were the sweetest fry his mother had ever seen and she gladly welcomed you into her family. A year later, Azul had been born and you were introduced to him, the both of you coddled and adored by his grandmother and other relatives alike. Your eyes glittered with awe when you peered down at baby Azul, so fragile and small in his mother's arms. A tentacle gently curled around your finger, and he stared up at you, equally amazed, his blue eyes wide with wonder.

Technically, you were his step-sister and he was your step-brother. But at such a young age, you could only comprehend simple family dynamics—the ones in which siblings came from the same mother and were thus related by blood. So, even though you weren't truly related in that way, that's what you were to Azul. He was your little brother and you were his big sister. The distinction in what you were never mattered to Azul. You were his family, and that was more than enough.

Growing up, he clung to you like a barnacle, never wanting to leave your side for more than a minute, a tentacle forever wrapped around your wrist or tail fin. You were inseparable, choosing to rest in the same sleeping nook, bathe together, eat meals together, explore shipwrecks and collect treasure together, and play together. He adored you, looked up to you like you were a miracle incarnate. And in that same loving manner you looked out for Azul, protected him from mean mers, assured him that you'd never leave him when he got sad, and patched him up when his clumsiness earned him all sorts of boo-boos.

Azul thought you were an angel—or something constructed from perfection, anyway. You were brilliant and wonderful, the best big sister he could have ever wished for. Every day felt like the best day of his life when he was with you. Waking up beside you and challenging each other to a race to the kitchen (even though he knew fully well that he'd lose every time). Offering you the spoils from your shipwreck adventures, where he'd drape strands of pearls around your neck and you'd do the same, always one to share. Lounging sleepily at his grandmother's tentacles and listening to her regale the both of you with stories from when she was young. She told tales of her first love, and Azul had boldly pointed at you and declared he'd marry his first love. You. His sister. It was passable then because he was little and couldn't fully understand the meaning of marriage and what it meant to settle down with someone you loved.

Love comes in many forms, and Azul couldn't grasp the differences between platonic and romantic. But back then it didn't matter because to him love was love, and you promised you'd stay with him forever. That was good enough.

But then, years later, his parents got divorced. His father took you with him, and during the process his mother fell in love with her divorce attorney. Azul never saw you again. You moved away, or so he assumed when he'd search the neighborhood for you, deceiving himself that you were still here. You wouldn't leave him. You promised.

He searched all of the places the two of you used to frequent, gradually losing hope with each day. Eventually, when the acceptance letter had come and it became apparent that he had more pressing matters to focus on, he stopped searching altogether.

Azul's older now, freshly graduated and ready to take on the world, but before that he returns to the sea. There are celebrations he must attend; he's expressed his thanks to countless congratulations already, but he doesn't mind the excess. It feeds his ego. His family is so proud, but none can be prouder than his mother, who shackles him in a loving embrace, cooing about how she remembers when he was just a little fry. Though you haven't occupied his mind in years, at the mention of childhood, he instinctively looks for you amidst the many people crowding the restaurant. You're not there. He wishes you were.

There's a lot he has to do as he works to expand the Mostro Lounge. He's purchased a property on the surface. The building is old and dilapidated, but he has a promising vision and lots of time on his hands. He'll make it work. Summer break be damned; Azul's too busy for that. But he can't leave the ocean just yet. He'd put it off with potions for as long as he could, but nature prevails in the end.

Mating season, in Azul's hateful opinion, is a scam. Merfolk exhaust all of their efforts carrying clutches, nursing them for months, before relinquishing them to fate, where it's not guaranteed that any of their fry will survive the harshness of the sea. All of that hard work and for what? The slim chance that one or two will return. Azul knows there are ways to avoid tragedy. Like laying the eggs amidst sea anemones to ward off predators who may not be immune to the sting. Even so, he doesn't understand the appeal of this gamble. Most of all, he despises it because this very gamble is the reason why, without fail, he's forced to suffer through this miserable period of biological imperative.

He gets moody, viciously so, cherishing the shadowed, tranquil loneliness inside an octopus pot. Azul greatly dislikes mating seasons because it's uncomfortable to hold in a clutch for too long, and when he's cursed with one he has no other option but to spend hours curled in solitude, hot and flushed all over, while he squirms through the all-encompassing heat. It passes after he's released every egg, and he tries not to think of what could be if he had someone to take his clutch and care for them. Sometimes he destroys the eggs, crushes them so that, at the very least, they won't become a predator's dinner. It's mostly anger and selfishness that fuel the destruction. He'd never hurt his young, but they won't survive much longer, fated to die within the next few hours. There needs to be someone else. Pairs and whatnot. Mating and bonding and all of that nonsense he scowls at. He doesn't have anyone to complete his pair.

He surmises it will be the same next season. It always is.

Azul is always so sad in the aftermath, coming down from the high to meet encroaching depression. He's a businessman; he won't have time for a family. It's impossible to settle down at this stage in his life. It's too early. Things are just getting off the ground. He tells himself these things so he can focus, but it's so difficult. He wants a family of his own. He wants to know what it's like to be loved and mated. It's not fair that others around him, mers he went to middle school with, are starting families and finding their special someone. He deserves that happiness more than anyone.

Azul is selfish and greedy to a fault, but he's romantic at heart.

Like clockwork, he slinks off to rid himself of this annual burden. On the way to his usual spot, a scent hits him. It's faint at first, but the further he swims the thicker it gets, until it nearly leaves him disoriented with dizziness. He's too dazed with instinct to think about turning the other way, pulled towards the enticing pheromones like it's flashy bait on a fishing hook. It leads him to a deep crack set into the sea floor, too slim for a human to squeeze into. But he's an octopus and it's easy to contort his limbs to fit through. It opens up to a wider space, enclosed and dark, but he can sense another mer in here.

How can he not when your smell is so strong it practically sticks to the walls?

He lights the space with magic, a soft, yellowed glow that kisses your skin like a sweet sunrise. You're curled in on yourself, gripping your abdomen and whining in discomfort. He understands the cue immediately. Your body's ready to receive a clutch, and the emptiness pains you.

Azul has tact, or so he likes to think, and he keeps himself plastered to the far end of the little cave. You sense him then, smelling his own arousal and readiness. Weakly, you lift your head, peering at him through foggy, teary eyes. It's quiet; both of you stare at one another. Azul wonders if you'll reject him, fight him, bite a chunk out of him.

Instead, you force yourself up onto your arms and mutter, "'m sorry... I'll go somewhere else..."

"Ah, w-wait!" Clumsily, his tentacle flashes out, wraps around your tail fin, and holds tight.

You look at him, the haze in your eyes clearing, and you sniff the scent on the water, your brows furrowing. Your eyes slide to the tentacle, and suddenly recognition sparks in your gaze.

"Azul?"

He blinks, his own haze clearing. "Do I know..." He gasps, flinches away from you as if slapped. "(Name)? Is... Is it really you?" His mouth is agape, eyes blown wide. Before you can answer, he hastily adds, "W-Where have you been?! I thought you'd left! Is everything okay? What have you been doing all these years?"

You nod, but he's not sure which question that nod is meant to answer. "I..." You brace yourself against the wall and shudder. "We can catch up later. Right now really isn't..." His eyes trace down your body, stopping right at your slit, which is puffy and slick and not yet claimed. You also don't have a mate. Sensing his intentions, you turn away, shielding yourself. "Now's not a good time...for either of us."

Azul reclaims your tail fin, his grip gentle, coaxing. "It's fine. Please don't leave again... You're in no condition to swim elsewhere. Some brute might take advantage of you."

"But you...have to get rid of your clutch, don't you?"

Quiet descends upon the space. Azul doesn't speak; his scent says enough.

Your eyes widen with horror. "We can't, Azul."

"(Name)—"

"We're family," you whisper, shaking your head at him. "There's no way we can do something like that!"

"But we're not! Not anymore. Mom and Dad aren't together and we've never had a blood relation, so we can—"

You push his reaching tentacle away and grit your teeth. His scent is cloying, muddling the thoughts in your brain. "Still... We grew up together. You've always been my brother, so I can't go home with your clutch." You gasp when another appendage twines around your waist, drawing you closer to the floor. You glare weakly at him. "You're doing that on purpose, dummy..."

Azul flashes his teeth at you, smug. "I don't know what you're talking about, sister dearest."

"Stop. S'not funny..." He squeezes your hips, annoyingly playful, and your body arches itself into his touch. "Azul, please."

Azul creeps closer, his voice a tantalizing murmur. "I missed you so much. Do you know how lonely it was without you? You never visited or wrote. I sat alone at the head of the table every birthday and wished you were there by my side. You promised you'd never leave me and yet... And yet you broke it! You left and I never saw you again! I thought I'd lost you forever."

"You know that's not what happened. I couldn't stay because Dad wanted me to come with him."

"But I needed you more than Dad did!" he exclaims, features twisted with grief. Azul notices your subtle flinch and he swallows thickly, softens his intonation. "I... I needed you the most."

"I'm sorry. I'm really sorry." Your hands tremble against your nose, but it's futile. His scent surrounds you.

"Sorry isn't enough. You have to make it up to me. For every missed birthday. For every missed holiday. For every second I spent mourning you." Azul pins his body to yours, his tentacles wrapping around your arms to pull them down. He smiles lopsidedly, breathing you in like you're his lifeline. He reaches between you to press his fingers against your slit, and you mewl, squirming beneath him. He marvels at your mouth as it opens and closes, stuffed full with contradiction. "I know it's unbearable. It's unbearable for me, too, but I can help make it feel better for both of us."

"But—haa—your clutch... If you do it inside, I'll..."

His thumbs rub soothing circles into your hips, right at the borderline between scales and flesh. "You'll do fine," he promises. "Remember when you'd reassure me whenever I was scared? Now it's my turn to do that for you. So let me help you. You'll feel good soon."

"We shouldn't. What will..." You gasp and reach for his shoulders by pure impulse, overcome with a searing want now that he's so close. "What will Mom say? Won't she be upset?"

Azul hums his contemplation. Three fingers curl inside your slit, spreading it with ease. You cry out and sink your teeth into his shoulder, restlessly, painfully horny. He suspects you'd have more fight if you weren't already so deep into your heat. Maybe then your bite would have been far more agonizing.

"Then she'd better not find out." One tentacle pats your head. It's meant to be consoling. "For the record, I never saw you as my sister. I meant it when I said I'd marry you. You know that, right?"

You pull away, maw speckled with blue blood and eyes twinkling. He smiles again; you're cute when stained with his color. "Please, Zul..." You hold his face between your hands, yanking him down to your lips. His gills flutter with excitement. "Fingers aren't enough..."

"I know, love. I know."

So he kisses you.

It's heady and sloppy, more dizzying than a tempting bout of pheromones and the slick squelch of his fingers fucking you open. Azul loses himself in the sensations, massaging every inch of you with his tentacles while you throw your arms around him in return. You're coerced into acceptance in a way that's spellbinding, unable to slake the desire that burns within you. He's filled to the brim with euphoria. It's been so many years apart and now you're here with him, stuck in this cramped cave, the both of you ignorant to the hours passing above.

Azul pulls away first. Not for oxygen because neither of you need that, but rather so he can speak instead.

"Promise you won't leave me."

"I won't. I'm here to stay, so please, Azul. Please..." You dig your nails into his back, impatient. "I need you."

He flushes blue up to his ears. "A-And say you love me. More than a brother, okay?"

The tapered tip of a thicker, much larger tentacle presses shallowly into your slit. You moan your relief, rocking your hips in hopes of taking him deeper. Tears line your lashes.

"I love—mmh—love you more than—oh, please—than a brother! Zul, please, I can't take it anymore. Put it in. Please give it to me!"

Azul presses kisses all over your face, unable to stop his growing smile. "I will, angelfish. I won't keep you waiting any longer."

He pushes inside and your tight warmth swallows every inch. He drags you down onto the floor, endeavoring to fit himself to you in the closest way. You fuck like animals, noisy and wet and filthy, curled around one another like a perfect tangle of erotica. In the dimming glow of a fading spell, you capture one other's mouths at every interval, determined to savor every salacious sound. The knots in your stomach tighten and unfurl each time orgasm washes over you, and it's so blissfully mind-numbing that you forget why you were ever opposed to it in the first place.

When the first egg breaches your womb, you thrash and bite, tetchy and unsatisfied. He shushes you, cooing affectionately, petting your tummy and promising to fill it in due time. You try to snarl around another moan, but it comes out choked. He laughs, but it isn't meant to ridicule. And as promised, more eggs follow. Small, round, gelatinous things that they are, Azul knows they'll grow larger and you'll be a full house for the next few months until it comes time to lay.

He can't wait.

You ride out the rest of the eggs in pure ecstasy, so much so that it's a blur, harboring each in the crammed confines of your womb. By the time the final one has found its home inside, you and Azul are thoroughly exhausted and starved. He slips out slowly, draping a tentacle over your extended middle. They're glowing faintly, not nearly as bright to draw predators in, but once you're further into gestation you'll resemble the prettiest star.

"I'll get you something to eat," he says after a minute of untangling himself from you.

Your hand shoots out to seize the tentacle retreating from your rounded belly. "No, stay here."

"You should eat. It's been a while."

"'m not hungry..." As if to mock you, your stomach growls. You plead with your eyes, desperate. "I'll eat later. Please stay here with me. Please?"

Azul considers it, and ultimately he opts to stay. It's safer this way. He'll keep watch, and eventually the two of you will depart for home. Satisfied, you pull him back into the recesses of the little cave to cuddle up to him, your eyelids fluttering.

"Do you think any of them will survive?"

Azul turns to look at you. He remembers the way you used to snuggle with him when you were but little mers, giggling and gossiping over the silliest of things. He smiles fondly at the memory and the sight of you now, soft and gravid and glowing. And all his. Forever his.

"Of course they will."

It's an uncertainty, but he lives to beat the odds. It's in his nature to chase after and achieve the things he covets most. A family is no exception.

"Mm, I hope so," you mutter, trailing off into slumber.

"I'll make sure of it, my love."

In this dimly lit haven, it's just you and him, together as nature intended. He couldn't be more elated.

[screamintoad]

TWST oc Blanche Primrose

“I believe we’ve met before. Perhaps…once upon a dream.”

Voice claim: Nobara-Jujutsu Kaisen

Character info

  Blanche is a typically headstrong girl. Her temper isn’t as bad as some of the other students but she’ll call out others wrong doings. If she’s not doing anything too important or tedious then she’ll often be found day dreaming. Now as a second year she is fully herself and many of the students see her as a sisterly figure as she always checks up on people and make sure they’re taking care of themselves.

  The summer before she started attending NRC, she was told by her grandmother that Blanche is expected to be enrolled at a stuffy all girls private school that her grandma attended. Later that night a raven delivered a letter to her windowsill that spoke of how she was recommended to be a student at NRC by a few upperclassmen. She knew that night that she was going to choose her own fate rather than a path that her grandmother curated for her. As she pretended to be a boy at NRC she chopped her hair into a pixie cut and when Vil first saw her he wanted to faint but understood what she was trying to do. Eventually her grandmother found out about the ruse but allowed her to keep attending NRC since it made her so happy. 

Fun facts: She used to live in the same town as Jack and Vil and they’ve been friends since they were kids. She spent her first few months at school pretending to be a boy since, as far as her grandma knew, she was at that stuffy private school. Her red sweater was originally her mother’s. She’s half wolf beastfolk. That same summer before coming to NRC she would frequently dream of meeting a young man with silver hair. 

Basic info

Age: 17

Height: 179cm, 5’8

B-day: September 7th (Virgo)

Dominant hand: Right

Family: Hazel (her grandmother) 

Nicknames: Petit Rouge (Rook), Harp seal (Floyd)

2nd year

Class B

Club: Film studies

Best subject: Herbology

Hobbies: Baking, Tending to plants, Writing short stories which is why she joined the film studies club to fuel her inspiration

Pet peeve: Selfish people

Favorite food: Berry muffins

Least favorite food: Seafood

Talent: Quick thinking (does not equal smart thinking)/Singing

Unique Magic: Thorny Heart, she can grow thorny vines around her and even grow various plants from the vines. Such as ones that are just pretty or ones that have medicinal values. Sometimes when she’s startled she just SPROUTS the thorns and freaks everyone out for a second. 

Character dynamics

Vil: Childhood friend number 1. He’s like a mother hen towards her, constantly fretting over her grades and appearance. It drives her up a wall but she knows he means well. These habits are especially prominent when she first starts attending.

Jack: Childhood friend number 2. They first met when Jack was playing outside and he found her picking berries in the forest while she was wearing a hooded red cape. As schoolmates they’re both striving to help the other. That could be helping each other study or timing track runs.

Rook: Creepy dorm mate. Honestly, she doesn’t like him, like at all. She knows he possibly means well but he still unnerves her. They have lots of debates in French. 

Ruggie: She didn’t trust him at first, his scheming made her nervous every time she heard him giggling. Now as second years and in the same class, she scolds him when he steals stuff but she always makes extra food so he can have some as well. 

Silver: Love interest. Despite the dreams during summer, they didn’t recognize each other until way later, like Book 5 later. After that it was nothing but sweet sweet slow burn but one thing’s for sure. Everyone loves silver and gold.

Malleus: They both get a weird sense of deja vu when they’re first getting acquainted. They met one night when they stumbled upon each others walking routes. Neither could place it but they felt as if they had met before. Maybe in a dream, maybe a different time entirely. They get along and teach each other a lot, eventually Malleus joined in on Lilia’s teasing when it came to her and Silver together.

[two-white-butterflies]

parallel lines | d. targaryen | part seven

Description: An ordinary middle school teacher moves to a desolate town with her fiancee. After suffering episodes of vivid nightmares, she realizes that his uncle looks exactly like the man in her dreams.

Pairings: daemon targaryen/reader, aemond targaryen/reader

Trope: Reincarnation

series masterlist |

“When one is in love, one always begins by deceiving one's self, and one always ends by deceiving others. That is what the world calls a romance.” 

― Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray

"Rhaenyra, you are an angel." you chuckled settling into the passenger seat. Her car was luxurious on the inside, one of those minivans that could comfortably seat all her sons. "Oh, it's nothing, your apartment is on the way anyways." she replied with a smile.

You couldn't help but recognize the similarities between her and your boyfriend. They were half-siblings but judging from their faces, they could be mother and son. She glances at you, sensing your silence. "Are you alright?" she asked in a motherly tone.

"It's just - you look like Aemond." you blurted out, a thin-lipped smile ghosts her lips. It was a compliment, but she didn't appreciate it. "We both look like our grandmother, Alyssa." she shakes her head. You had no idea about the past.

She wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt.

"So that's the name of his grandmother! He never told me. He never tells me about his family." you looked down, realizing that you've probably shared too much.

"There's a possibility that he didn't know - our father never shared about the family anyways. I learnt all of this from Daemon." Rhaenyra reluctantly defended her brother.

For a second you contemplated asking her about their father. Aemond has told you stories about the abuse that he befell, could Rhaenyra provide more insight on your boyfriend's past? You shake those thoughts away, he told you that Rhaenyra was their father's favorite. She wouldn't understand.

"You know - the family's glad that Aemond has you. He's been unsociable these past few years. He never gives us updates, never talks to us, we thought that he was dead - or worst, in prison." Rhaenyra breathed, there was still a part of her heart that loved her baby brother - though that love was buried deep now.

"Prison?" you raised an eyebrow, laughing at the notion. "He was in prison before Tirano. Two-years, and for a crime he didn't commit." she continued not fully sure if Aemond was all that innocent. "He's never told me 'bout that before." you mumbled.

Was there another side of your boyfriend that you didn't know about?

"Well, according to the court documents. He found out that his girlfriend was cheating on him. He beat her up then the paramour went marching to our house. The paramour died. Alicent was strangely calm then," Rhaenyra narrated, as if it was something that the entire town already knew about.

"You told me that he was innocent. What really happened?" you inquired and she shrugs. "- I don't know what really happened, but he had the perfect alibi. He says that he already broke up with the girl and she came to him all bruised up. The paramour allegedly killed the girlfriend. Aegon was a witness. It all happened down at our old house." she informed.

You slumped on your seat.

You didn't know what to believe.

"- when my brother was younger, he used to be so kind. He'd make me cereal and prepare the uniform that I used for school. I don't know what happened to us, why we grew apart." she pondered with a bitter chuckle, reminiscing a past where you weren't present.

"I thought after that trip to Tirano, our family would grow closer, but we all grew estranged. I'm glad that you're here, that he's here too." she turned to look at you, speaking with the mind of a sister, one that grew up Aemond - not with the mind of a Queen whose son was slaughtered by the same man.

Aemond stared at the mirror, feeling the blood trickle down his nose. He got into a fight with some losers in some random alleyway.

He scoffs, aware that he looked pathetic. How long has it been since adrenaline pumped through his veins?

It was tiring, constantly having to hide himself in a facade of self-righteousness. It was hard pretending to be perfect!

Perfection was different for every woman. To a Plath-Orwell loving maiden, the perfect man was a guy who read Nietzsche and occasionally watched the Godfather. He perfected himself for a woman like you to come by.

It wasn't difficult to have you, but it was difficult to maintain you.

He washes his face with water, observing the crimson fluid go down the drain. There was a time, he remembers, when you were happy with each other. You didn't mind doing the laundry while he played his video games. He was aware of your beauty, but he was at peace because he knew that your loyalty was his. That you were his.

But Daemon's arrival changed something in you.

He could see that.

He sees the way that your eyes fill with emptiness when you realize that he's done nothing the entire day. He sees the way that you shrug when he asks you a simple question, instead choosing to browse through social media instead of speaking to him.

Has he lost you to Daemon?

He takes a deep breath.

He knows the outcome of this battle. He knows that in due time, he'd lose you to his uncle. Who was he to stand against fate? The past was a mirror of the future. He was just a mere bridge.

He turns the faucet off.

He'd love you for as long as you'd stay.

He'd love you, even if you were slipping through the cracks.

Only a lampshade in the middle of the living room illuminated your humble apartment. Aemond was slumped on the Victorian sofa, unbothered by the blood that trickled down his chin and gathered on his chest. He felt numb.

"Jesus, you're bleeding." you say, concerned.

"I got into a fight with some randos back in town." he mumbled, disassociated from reality. Your eyebrows merged into each other. "What?" you paused, giving him time to repeat himself. This was the first time he's ever gotten into a fight - he'd usually take the higher ground and apologize even when it wasn't his mistake.

"- they made fun of my eye." he breathed.

He was thrown back into the past, when his nephews and the other kids made fun of him - for this disability that wasn't his fault.

"Oh, Aemond, I'm so sorry." you wrapped your arms around him. Allowing him to rest his head on your chest. There were tears falling down his eye, mixing with the blood. "If I was there, I would've beat them up with you." you humored, earning a chuckle.

He felt vulnerable.

"My father made fun of my eye too, when I was younger." he admitted, lifting his feet off the ground, placing it on the sofa until he was in a cross-legged position. "- he said that someone who looks this way would never be happy in life." he stared off to the horizon.

Your breath hitched, allowing him to speak about his past. Preventing yourself from interrupting, just in case the trance would break - and he'd return back to his hermit-like self.

"When we got together, I wanted to laugh at his face because someone like you chose to love me - despite the fact that I wasn't perfect. But my dad was right." he rose to his feet, ignoring your attempts to chase after him.

He locks himself in the bathroom.

Aemond opened his eyes again, transported back to the Summer of 2016. His arms were wrapped around his girlfriend, Margaux, he could feel the heat gathering in his back for laying down too long.

"Nick is just a friend. I don't know why you're jealous." she lied through gritted teeth. He wanted to choke her for making him seem like a goddamn idiot. He saw the hickeys on her neck, the smell of another man's perfume on her uniform. "I'm not fucking stupid." his grip on her neck tightened, his eyes turning crazy.

He rose to his feet, pushing her hands away when she tried to pull him back. "Ae, stop making a big deal out of this." she chuckled nervously, while he reached for the pistol hidden in his floorboard. An inheritance from his father.

"You cheated on me with that dirtbag loser." he yelled at her.

"I didn't please stop acting like a fucking asshole." she screamed.

He slaps her on the face. The sound echoing throughout the room. Leaving the both of them in shock. "What the fuck? So what if I did cheat on you with him? You're a loser. Do you have any idea what you look like?" she insulted him, but her words were not entering his brain

He placed the bullets inside of the pistol, aiming it at her. Margaux tries to run for the door, but he grabs her forearm - stopping her.

"Aemond!" your voice breaks him free from the trance.

A gasp escapes his mouth seeing the pistol on his hand. He remembers everything that happened with Margaux. He didn't kill her. Something snapped him out of it. He sees the fear behind your eyes. He drops the gun on the floor, and it goes off.

It hits your ankle.

Everything fades into black.

next chapter>>

[nicki0kaye]

🌘  twitter | patreon | instagram  🌒

Junior Guard Captain Garazeb and Underworld crime prince Sasha fall into each other's orbit and hard. This is the 'verse where they have complimentary force powers; Guard (Zeb, empath) and Watcher (Kallus, heightened senses). you can check out the sketch phases of this here. Zeb characterization and general Lasan HCs courtesy of @sidhebeingbrand

Not ten minutes after meeting, Sasha tries to use Zeb as his ticket off Coruscant, which creates something of a diplomatic incident.

The Kallus' aren't a very powerful underworld gang, but they don't want to lose Sasha and are more than willing to become a pain in the surface's ass to get him back. Zeb's superiors don't want any of that, but there's a hiccup; Zeb and Sasha are already 'bonded'. Their auras compliment one another, and have more or less interlocked in what little time they've known each other. Untangling them now would be a process. That, and Sasha has told them some concerning things about how his family treats him and his gift.

So the plan becomes; parlay with the Kallus Family down in the Underworld.

It goes better than expected, all things considered. Sasha's family wants him to stay and are willing to accept assistance from the Lasat, because they're under no illusions that their family's way of doing things is working. Sasha's magic has always been more than either his brother or grandmother could handle. If the Lasat are willing to spare a teacher, the Kallus' will put them up and treat them like family.

Which means Zeb is going to stay.

Sasha is furious. He wants to stay with Zeb, yeah, but he wanted to go with him to Lasan. Not ruin the guy's whole career by getting him stuck in the frozen ass-end of Coruscant's basement sectors.

There's one place Sasha goes when he's feeling trapped and overstimulated. At the bottom of level 1996--a level comprised entirely of the piping needed to keep the above levels running--is a giant empty space where the next level should be. Over a hundred stories of nothing between the pipes of '96 and the sewage pit of 1994. This is where Sasha goes to worship his god. The Lasat know him as the Bendu--the one who walks in the middle--but in the north-eastern sectors of the Underworld, they simply call it 'The Void'. It isn't the kind of god to lend its favor, but it is there all the same, and it will listen. Sasha comes to it often to vent his frustrations, to scream into the dark, and this time, Zeb follows.

The whole thing freaks Zeb out. He's a good, devout child of the Ashla, and this big yawning pit his bonded feels compelled to dangle over scares him shitless. He respects the Bendu, respects Sasha as a child of the Between, so he doesn't interfere. Zeb does, however, reel Sasha into the safety of his own arms the second his crazy little human is done.

That's when this conversation happens. Across their bond, in the privacy of their auras, Zeb promises the next time he sees the stars, Sasha will be there beside him. "I know why it calls to you now, the emptiness."

A shiver works its way through Sasha. "Why are you like this?" he asks, pressing into Zeb's space, forehead to forehead. "You just promise like it's nothing."

"To be your Guard is everything. I do not want another bondmate. Terrifying small human."

Sasha's laugh is a little wheezy and broken. He forces a grin as he asks "what if?" aloud, pretending it's a game, a new way to tease the overly serious Guard, and that there's no growing fear he may misstep and give Zeb reason to abandon him.

Zeb says he doesn't know, but then counters; "what if I steal you?"

The question is left unanswered--they aren't alone in the 1996 and need to get going--but it isn't forgotten. Nor Zeb's promise that one day, the two of them will hunt the stars.

[evita-shelby]

Hi there Juli!!

I saw that you said you were taking some dad!Tommy requests for this weekend….I was wondering if you could write a dad!Tommy x reader story with the prompt: "Be gentle, please." ??

Thanks so much in advance if you choose to! ❤️

Thanks 😊

Gif by @romeulusroy

In the bleak midwinter

Twins.

If someone would’ve told him he’d be marrying you not even three months after meeting you, he wouldn’t have believed it.

He had been home from France for less than a month when he met you feeding stray cats on your grandmother’s doorstep.

Somehow the two of you had hit it off and the week after Cheltenham, Tommy and you had gotten married because you were pregnant.

With twins, or so Polly had seen in his tea the morning he told her you had cried over him not taking you to the races even knowing why he was taking Grace instead of you.

With something far greater to think about ---making enough of a profit to provide a good home for you and your unborn children--- he had no time to waste on the barmaid who led Arthur on to the point his poor brother nearly offed himself when they discovered she was a rat.

He's still sore in the chest from Kimber’s bullet when the babies are born.

One boy, one girl.

“Be gentle, please.” You say as he holds little Diane in his arms.

“I’ve held babies before, love.” He says remembering how excited he had been to hold Finn when he was born.

They were small, but the lungs on his little princess told him all he needed to know.

Charles Henry and Diane Elizabeth.

Names that feel significant and will have something to do with the fall of the House of Windsor, or so you said as the anesthesia wore off at the clinic.

Names fit for two children who will have everything he lacked growing up.

If Charlie wants a top hat for every day of the week, Tommy will make sure he got closets full of them.

If Diane wants to only eat coconuts, then he’d make sure there’s always one for her.

“To think this time last year we was feeding stray cats in the dead of night, Mrs. Shelby.” He said pressing a kiss to your forehead as you nursed little Charlie.

I love you, he means to say and yet the words convey it just the same.

“I’m glad your curiosity got the better of you, Mr. Shelby.” You said and added, “I love you too.”

[wheredafandomat]

The Creature Beneath

Written by @wheredafandomat and @simplyholl 🖤

Summary: You inherit the creepy lakefront property that's been in your family for generations. There's only one problem- the monster that has terrorized the property for years. Is the legend true? Is there really a monster under the surface?

Pairing: Loki x F. Reader

Warnings: Smut. 18+ Only. Minors DNI.

Contains lyrics from “Dreams” by Fleetwood Mac

Whore-O-Ween Masterlist

You heard the legend your whole life, about the creature that lived in the lake on your grandparents’ property. You and your cousins weren’t allowed to go near it growing up. Your dad and all his siblings could say the same.

It was like that for generations. Your great aunt Irene had seen something out there when she was eighteen and nobody believed her at the time. Her family wrote it off as her wild imagination.

But she wouldn’t let it go. Her sister, your great grandmother Hazel, shared a room with her. One night Irene woke up in a trance and walked outside to the lake. Hazel followed her, begging her to stop. But it was too late. When Irene reached the water’s edge, a horrible, giant monster emerged. He grabbed her ankle, dragging her into the water with him.

Hazel jumped in to save her, but they disappeared. She ran inside to get help. People searched for days before Irene’s body was found. Everyone agreed that Hazel had been half asleep and only imagined the creature to cope with her sister’s death.

Irene had been sleepwalking and drown in the lake. Hazel knew the truth. When she and her husband inherited the land, they vowed to never let the creature hurt anyone else. They could never sell the property. Anyone wanting to buy it would never believe them. It was too dangerous.

So they kept the property in the family. Your father was the oldest child, so he got it after your grandparents’ deaths. He decided to sign it over to you. You were an only child who still lived with your parents. He told you it was time for you to be on your own. You spent two weeks cleaning the house and moving your belongings in. When it finally looked how you wanted, your dad was ready to leave.

You walk him to his car. He gives you a hug, placing a kiss on top of your head. “What’s the only rule?” He asks as if you were still a child, not a fully grown woman. “Stay away from the lake.” You roll your eyes, like you could ever forget that. “I mean it.” He says seriously before driving away.

You always thought your dad’s side of the family was out of their minds. Irene was a young girl with nothing to do. She was probably bored and made the creature up. It was definitely a sleepwalking accident. Hazel was so horrified by seeing her sister jump in, that she went along with Irene’s creature story.

You would never tell your dad that you didn’t believe the legend. You always loved this house. It was huge with a large backyard and the lake was beautiful, even though the grass was grown up all around it from years of neglect. You spot the lawn mower in the garage, taking it down to the lake. You know your dad would overreact if he knew you were down here.

But you wanted your new home to be perfect. You start the machine attempting to cut the grass. You turn it off quickly, glancing over your shoulder. You could have sworn you heard someone call your name. You look at the lake, there’s no way you heard what you thought. You’re just nervous because you weren’t supposed to be over here.

You start mowing again, looking all around you the whole time. You finish without another incident. When night falls, you sit down at your desk by the window. It overlooks the lake. You were surprised your grandparents didn’t have the window removed so they wouldn’t have to see it every day.

You call your mom to tell her you went to the lake in an attempt to clean up. She always thought your dad and his family were silly for believing it. There haven’t been any more sightings of the creature since Irene and Hazel. You giggle over the secret you both share. “It’s not even that creepy. I think we should build a deck and we could swim in the summer. It’s really a waste leaving it abandoned after all this time.”

You look up, something moving outside catches your eye. You see a naked man with dark curls walking around by the water. “Mom, stay on the phone with me. I just saw a guy out here.” You find your dad’s old baseball bat in the hallway closet. You walk outside clutching it to your chest. You’re unsure of what you would do if you actually saw him out here.

You walk around and find nothing. You go back inside, still on the phone. You check every closet, under every bed to make sure the man didn’t come into the house. You lock all the doors and latch all the windows. After tossing and turning all night, you finally fall asleep dreaming of a beautiful man calling for you.

The following day passed quietly. You tried to ignore the unsettling feeling that lingered in your stomach at the reminder of the previous night. Your mother was still worried, she had every right to be. You assured her all was well, despite how little you believed that. You managed to get a couple of officers to do a quick check around the property.

They confirmed no one was there. They assured you were safe, and that was enough for your mom to stop calling you once every hour. As the evening began to draw in, you forgot about the events of last night. The unsettling feeling was replaced by hunger, so you decided to make dinner.

Whilst in the kitchen, you turned the radio on as you cooked, singing along to some of the songs and swaying your hips. Yesterday was completely forgotten under the security blanket of Fleetwood Mac and pasta. Just as you started playing your food, the radio began to glitch. A loud, static sound replaced the lyrics of “Dreams.” You tried hitting it to get it to work again, but it didn’t help. Sighing, you roll your eyes before catching a sight of a figure outside. Yelping, you blink before it disappeared, the radio returning back to normal.

“Now here I go again I see the crystal vision”

Considering whatever you saw had now disappeared, you blamed it on the sleep deprivation. You kept reminding yourself that the police said they couldn’t find anything. You were safe. But you couldn’t help glancing out if the window every now and then, almost hoping to spot something. You needed solid proof to call the police again, solid proof of something out there to ensure you weren’t going crazy.

You didn’t bother washing the dishes or finishing your food before you headed upstairs in need of a relaxing bath. You wanted to just put everything behind you. You were certain a hot bath and a long sleep was just the trick. You dip your fingers into the water wanting to test the temperature before you got inside.

Pleased, you entered, allowing the water to pull you in, covering you in a blanket of warmth. You closed your eyes, sinking further down into the water as it engulfed you, your face barely above the water. You hadn’t realized you had fallen asleep until you saw him, the man from last night walking around outside again. You began to follow him, his skin looked ethereal under the glow of the moon.

His curls appeared wet, but no water dripped onto his alabaster back. You continued to follow him, his pull was magnetic, only stopping once you heard his voice. “Y/N.” Gasping, you awoke, eyes opening as you tried to sit up, only to find yourself unable to. You thrashed in the bath, the water sloshing out of the side as you fought to get up.

But something was holding you down. Something unyielding. You kept trying, unable to breathe as the sound of the radio came into focus. The radio you were certain you left downstairs.

“You say you want your freedom well who am I to keep you down”

You could feel your life slipping away, but you were unable to do anything apart from surrender to the water. Just as you did, your eyes opened, body shooting upwards as you woke up from whatever cruel nightmare had consumed you. You glance around, there was no radio, only silence. Taking deep breaths, you quickly got out of the bath.

You couldn’t sleep again. Not after tonight’s events. You sit by the window, eyes completely focused on the lake. Hours passed and you didn’t see anything. Your eyes grew heavy, your head fell off your hand, startling you awake. You take a quick break from watching to go to the bathroom. When you get back, everything is still the same.

You grab your phone, scrolling aimlessly when you hear it. The rich, dulcet voice of the man, the one from your dreams, the one you saw outside. You listen carefully, it sounds like singing. Where is he? You watch as the lake starts to bubble. The mysterious man rises to the top. The haunting melody continues, pulling you outside like a magnet.

When you realize he’s luring you, it’s too late. You’re standing right in front of him. You take in your surroundings, there is nothing you can use to protect yourself. “Who are you? What do you want?” You ask him, your voice shaking with every word. He smiles, and he is stunning.

“Do not be afraid. My name is Loki.” You’re suddenly not scared anymore, almost like he willed it to happen by saying it. “What are you doing here?” He takes a step toward you. “I have lived here for many years, long before your family. I was cursed and banished to this body of water. I must break the curse so I can be free. Please help me, I beg of you.”

You reach for him instinctively. “Did you call Irene to you? Did you kill her?” You had to know before you agreed to help him. “It’s true. I called for her like I have you. I wanted her to help break the curse. When she arrived, she kept screaming about a terrible monster. She was hysterical. She jumped in the water, and I tried to save her. By the time I reached her, she hit her head on the rocks at the bottom. It was too late.”

His explanation made sense. But why did Irene think she saw some sort of monster? The man in front of you was far from that. He looked like an angel. Obsidian curls cascading passed his shoulders, green eyes that shined like the stars. He was otherworldly. You had to chastise yourself when you looked down at his exposed body.

He was built like a god with a cock to match. You had been trying not to stare at it the whole time. You felt bad for him, truly. He was trapped out here for years. Your family branded him a monster, when he just needed help.

“Okay, I’ll do it. I’ll help you.” He walks closer, pulling you into his arms. “Thank you. I can’t believe I’ll finally be free. I can’t tell you how much this means to me.” You hug him back. “Just tell me what I need to do.” You search his face for any clues, but he’s hard to read.

“It’s simple really. I have to lie with a woman to break the curse.” You process what he says. All you have to do is have sex with this man you were strangely attracted to. You weigh your options. You could say no, but it would be awkward living here with him bound to the lake, not to mention cruel.

If you say yes, you will have your lake back. Plus, you hadn’t had sex in a while. He hadn’t even seen any women except for your eighty-year-old grandmother in years. He would definitely fuck you like he’s fresh out of jail or dark dingy lake. You would be a fool to turn him down. You lay on the ground, beckoning Loki to you with your finger.

He settles between your legs, face angled down toward yours. His lips brush your own, you expect him to be cold, but he’s so warm. You return his kiss eagerly, but he pulls away. Tilting your chin upwards you stare into his green eyes. “Slow down, love. I want to take my time.” He kisses along your jaw all the way to your collar bone.

Your silky nightgown is the only barrier between you. The sheer gown leaves little to the imagination. Loki licks at one nipple through the silk, long fingers tease the other. You arch your back, aching for him. You need more. But Loki takes his time, giving each breast equal attention. His hand grazes your thigh, lifting the gown to your hips. You weren’t wearing any panties, so you were bare before him.

He swipes a finger through your glistening folds. “So beautiful.” He whispers, dipping two fingers inside you. He watches your face as you reach for him, needing to ground yourself. He gives you his free hand, caressing the soft skin by your thumb. You look to the stars twinkling in the night sky while you lose yourself in him.

He swirls the pad of his thumb against your clit. You don’t want to lose the feeling, so you buck your hips, riding his fingers. You close your eyes as your orgasm washes over you. He spreads your legs further apart, pushing into you slowly. You reach for his hand again, using it for comfort. You feel safe with him. His forehead connects with yours and it’s like no one else exists.

Each stroke is deliberate, he lifts your leg higher, causing him to hit deeper. You rock your hips, and you can tell he’s close. He lowers his head to the crook of your neck, teeth skimming your shoulder. You shatter for the second time. You clench around him, calling his name. He cums inside you with a growl. You remove your hand from his, twisting a dark curl between your fingers.

“Did it work?” You ask concerned. You expect the curse to be broken like in the movies with a cartoon flourish. “There’s only one way to find out. Follow me.” He takes your hand, leading you to the water’s edge. “Wait, why do we need to go in there? Shouldn’t we go the other way to see if you’re brought back here?”

You hesitate, trying to pull him toward the house. Loki doesn’t answer, he tightens his grip on your hand, dragging you to the water. “Loki, what are you doing? Stop! Loki! “You cry, trying to break free. He tires of your fighting, lifting you into his arms, he enters the lake.

You hit his back as hard as you can with your fists. You scream, cry, and plead with him. You drag your nails down his arms trying to draw blood, anything to deter him. He brings you out to the middle, walking further under the surface. Panic sets in. How could you trust this man when your family feared him for generations?

You ignored every warning, running right to him. The water fills your lungs while you thrash around trying to free yourself. Loki transforms from the gorgeous man to a giant green monster. The hands you held for comfort turn into webbed claws. His face grows sinister. White, straight teeth are replaced by jagged, yellow razors. Soft, pale skin turns rough and scaly.

He holds you closely, laughing as you try to fight him. “Foolish girl, this is my home. Your family took this from me. I won’t stop until you are all destroyed. You see what you want to see. Irene was terrified of the lake from the beginning. So, I appeared as my true self. I wasn’t expecting her sister to follow her when I lured her out.

It was no matter; she didn’t even fight back. I went after her sister as well, but she was too far away. I remained hidden for years, waiting for one of you to come near. It was so easy. You were so eager to help the poor man trapped in the lake. So cock hungry that you let me fuck you.”

Your lungs burn so badly you can’t fight back. You’re growing so weak; it won’t be long now. The only good thing that would come from your death was that a few more generations of your family would be too scared to come out here. It would stop him temporarily.

The legend was true. A monster did live in the lake, and he was more evil than you could have imagined.

A/N: I want to say a hugeeeee thank you on behalf of myself and the lovely @simplyholl for following along this month, it honestly means a lot 🖤🖤 happy Halloween 🎃

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