#she helped him gather the courage to return home
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marymekpop · 9 months ago
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⟢ highlight of the hour: flex x cop [10/16] ⟣
welcome back home
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lynnuvo · 3 months ago
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୨⎯ Long Gone Princess ⎯୧
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Characters: Yan!Thief x (Y/N) reincarnated as Rapunzel A lot of you guys enjoyed the Cinderella version, so why not make a Rapunzel version? Very much considering making this a Yan!Fairytales Series.
Stowed Away
When you first awoke in your tower, you panicked for days. There was literally no way out, no matter how much you clawed at the bricks. It didn't take long to figure out where exactly you were. Who else would paint a mural of herself, seriously long-haired, gazing at floating lanterns?
Meeting Mother Gothel was the most anxiety-inducing thing you had to push through. You pitied the real Rapunzel for falling victim to her sugar-coated, poisonous words. As much as you internally cringed at them, it wouldn't serve you well to raise suspicion. After all, you have nowhere to go.
Whenever Mother Gothel was gone and you finished tidying up the tower, you emptied one of your chests full of female paraphernalia and stuffed some "safety equipment inside." Hopefully, Mother Gothel wouldn't notice a missing pair of scissors. Or a few darts.
Your now abnormally long hair was disturbing, to say the least. It was pretty, but now that you were living her life, you wandered how Rapunzel managed to put up with the hair strands scattered around the house, washing the heap of keratin proteins for hours in just ONE day, and sleep knowing there was at least some hair flowing to the floor. And let's be real: you were not going to spend most of your day braiding it just to remove your work whenever Mother Gothel came back.
Unfortunately, you couldn't afford to cut your hair--not just because it'd give Mother Gothel a heart attack but because it might help you. It did have magical healing powers. The only huge problem was that you were not skilled enough to maneuver your hair like Rapunzel. In addition, if you were to leave the tower, how would you return? Until you found the secret entrance amongst all the brick, you needed a backup plan.
One day, you gathered the courage to ask Mother Gothel for more fabric to sew a beautiful wedding dress, one that was colorful and very long. Of course, you left out the part where you wanted it to be long enough to reach the bottom of the tower (it'd be a lot of work, but what else were you going to do to escape?). She was skeptical about the idea behind the dress, but you reassured her that you just wanted something like those girls in the fairytale books you had in your room. After her lecture about the dangers of the world, she agreed to get you fabric.
My Savior
One morning, while you sowed your dress, you heard the sound of metal jabbing into something growing closer and closer. In a panic, you shut off your sewing machine and tied up as much as your hair as possible. There was no way you could capture Rapunzel's beloved thief the way she did. You vaguely prepared for what to do when he arrived, but you hadn't expected it to be that day!
At last, he fell into the tower and froze at the sight of you. He glanced behind him and turned back around, stepping away from the window with hands up. "Uh. I am so sorry for breaking into your home."
You pointed one of your scissors (used to cut fabric earlier) at him with a glare. "I'll forgive you if you hand me that bag you have."
"Listen, miss, I think we can sort this out without--"
"The bag or I'll throw you back down."
He gulped and reluctantly threw you the bag, begging you to please return it to him afterwards. The shock he had at your nonchalant expression while pulling out the most sparkly crown you've ever seen was laughable. In reality though, you were in awe. You quickly snapped out of it, though, and threw it behind you. You both cringed at the clanging it made as it hit the floor.
"I need you to listen to me," you started, gripping your scissors and your dress. "I need your help."
You didn't hesitate to cut to the chase. You explained that you were kidnapped by a woman claiming to be your mother and trapped in the tower by her. Although it may backfire on you later, you shared that you were reincarnated from another world. He was in disbelief until you told him his full name, his criminal history, the companions he had who would soon betray him, and the small cottage he visited along with many more criminals or outlaws. He challenged that you just did your research, but then you told him what crime he had just committed: stealing the missing princess's crown, which was--by the way--you.
After some back and forth, he agreed to help on the condition that you return the crown. You agreed to return it on the condition that he not only help you escape but also help you live in safety.
Together, you both clawed at the bricks on the wall until the secret backdoor was found. He helped you come up with a way to hide the new backdoor again whenever Mother Gothel returned.
You found a pattern in the earlier months leading up to then on Mother Gothel's pattern of visitation. She comes back every three or four days in early evening. If she didn't return by the time the sun disappeared, she wouldn't be back at all. That day was one of those days she wasn't going back. You suspected she wouldn't return for a while since she had just left the day before. Although hesitant at the idea of a new roommate, you demanded that Yan!Thief spend the night in the same room as you. He balked at what he thought was an implication, but he soon found himself sleeping on the floor (you dropped a blanket for him). How were you sure he wouldn't use the secret backdoor while you slept? You boobietrapped it before bed, making sure he stayed in the room so he wouldn't see under the threat of murder.
Steal His Heart
Your new routine was a scary turn but also surprisingly relieving. Yan!Thief would leave the tower in search of a new home for you (and him too) and would return in the afternoon only if a piece of purple fabric hung outside the window. Otherwise, it wasn't safe to come back.
Although your relationship started off rocky (who's to blame him with how violently you approached him?), you two soon warmed up to each other. He sometimes returned with small goods that you sometimes got a clear answer for how he retrieved. That chocolate he got for you both to try? He pickpocketed it. That ripe fruit that tasted like mildew spring? He dodged all of the questions.
Eventually, you gathered the courage to leave the tower with him. Your activities differed from there. Sometimes, you both ventured a little ways from the tower to discover the terrain and help find a new home. Sometimes, you both would spend the day walking around, learning more about each other and chatting away.
With no other companion, it came as no surprise to Yan!Thief that he developed romantic feelings for you. You didn't want to admit that you did too. At least, not until you both were in a safe place.
At last, Yan!Thief found an abandoned shelter. It was rusty, but it was closer to the kingdom than the tower but sheltered away like the tower. With a pounding heart, you gathered as much as you could from your tower into a backpack that Yan!Thief had brought over and left forever. In the shelter, you cut your hair, rendering it free from its power. Yan!Thief initially didn't want it to happen due to your great abilities, but one look at your determined face told him that you knew better.
The next couple weeks was spent in paranoia, you in fear of Mother Gothel and him in fear of guards. Luckily, you two went as far as making it into the kingdom without getting caught.
One day, you brought up the idea of revealing your identity to the king and queen while fidgeting with your crown. You reassured Yan!Thief that you'd vouch for his safety and freedom for as much as possible. It took a while for him to warm up to that, but you two finally made your way towards the castle.
Everything went surprisingly as planned. The kingdom rejoiced at the return of their princess, Yan!Thief was spared of a prison sentence and was even given a home and job as a prize for bringing you back, and the dead, rotten body of Mother Gothel was found not far from the shelter you and Yan!Thief had found.
Life was a fairytale.
MY Princess
Until it wasn't.
See, although you and Yan!Thief seemed to start opening a romantic chapter, that soon closed. With your newfound title came new responsibilities, friends, and much to his worries, a possible new love interest.
He tried his best to remain just a friend to you, but it was unbelievably hard. He couldn't believe that you were slowly forgetting him, your savior! Why must you abandon your knight in shining armor?!
He did feel guilty for not appreciating his new life more. Any other criminal would probably fight tooth and nail to be in his position, but he just wasn't happy if you weren't there with him.
Once his selfishness began to boil over, he devised a plan he wasn't sure if he was going to regret. He paid a visit to your room in the castle (you had given your dear best friend special permission) and chatted with you a bit. You apologized for being so distant as of late; royal duties had been keeping you at bay. He accepted your apology more readily than he had expected. It was hard not to with your bright smile and the cute way you pushed your hair behind your ears. He asked if you had time to visit the old tower for memories sake, and you happily agreed. The kingdom had yet to find the tower (you insisted to him that you wanted it kept secret in case you needed to run away again), so you simply told your guards you were heading out for a stroll.
Once at the tower, you two ventured inside and reveled at how dramatic your lives had changed. You even reminisced your life before being reincarnated. As the sun fell, you got up and suggested that you both should head back before it gets dark.
"Yan!Thief?" You peered at his gloomy expression. "Is everything okay?"
He nodded. got up, and hugged you. You let out a gasp before embracing him back. When he left go, you caught a tear slipped down his cheek. Your hands shot up to cup his face. "Yan!Thief?! What's wrong? I'm here. Did something happen?"
He sniffled and brushed a hand over your cheek. "I'm so sorry."
You were about to demand an explanation until you caught a glimmer shine from a blade in his other hand.
When you woke, you found your ankle chained to your bed--not your bed in the beautiful castle you were meant to be in but in the tower you had escaped from a year ago.
Yan!Thief came in the room and apologized with tears streaming down his face, exclaiming that you were just too irresistible to give to any other man or even the kingdom. He promised to take care of everything.
No matter how much you screamed, threw items in a fit of rage, or revealed that you only had romantic feelings for him all this time, he wouldn't budge. It was only until he bought a longer chain that he freed you from the bed. Your heart broke when you discovered he had discarded the wedding dress you had worked hard on and abandoned in the tower long ago, and even more so when you saw that he had built a new door in front of the original secret entrance.
You were back to square one, only this time with no way out and betrayed by the one person you truly trusted in this universe.
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kinascum · 4 months ago
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LATER, BOY - M. STURNIOLO
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SUMMARY: Nerd!Matt admires Popular!Reader from afar until he gathers the courage to approach her, sparking a journey of self-discovery and budding romance.
CONTENTS: NERD!Matt, POPULAR!reader, second hand embarrassment from Matt, Matt's a simp im sorry
WORDCOUNT: 745
next part (coming soon)
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Matt's eyes remained glued to the screen of his phone, scrolling through the endless feed of social media updates. His thumb hovered over the heart button, contemplating whether to like or pass the latest post from Y/N, the vibrant girl who always had a smile for everyone. Her laughter echoed through the school halls, and her voice was a melody that filled every corner with warmth. He had heard it a hundred times, but had never dared to join the conversations she so effortlessly navigated.
He took a deep breath and forced himself to look up. Y/N was there, in the flesh, standing just a few feet away from him, surrounded by her usual gaggle of friends. Her eyes met his for a brief moment, and she offered a smile that seemed to be just for him. His heart stumbled in his chest, and he quickly returned to the safety of his screen, cheeks flaming. It was a daily dance, one he was too scared to break out of. But today was different. He felt a strange resolve coalescing within him, urging him to step out of his comfort zone.
With trembling hands, he shoved his phone into his pocket and approached her group. The air grew thick with anticipation as he got closer, each step feeling like a mile. "Hey, Y/N," he managed to croak out, his voice barely above a whisper. She looked over, her eyes lighting up with recognition. "Hi, Matt!" she exclaimed, her voice as cheerful as ever. The others in her group turned to look at him, and he felt the weight of their collective gaze. His heart was racing now, a wild stallion in his chest.
"I just wanted to tell you," he began, the words tumbling out faster than he could control, "that I think you're really amazing. Like, the most amazing person I've ever met." He felt the heat of his own embarrassment, but pushed through it, his eyes never leaving hers. The group had gone quiet, watching the unfolding scene with curious expressions. Y/N's smile grew softer, and she took a step closer to him. "That's really sweet, Matt," she said, her voice gentle. "Thank you."
For a moment, it felt like the world had stopped spinning. Then she reached out and placed a hand on his arm. "But, I uh... I have to go. I'm late for practice." And with that, she turned away, leaving him standing there, stunned. His heart sank, the brief spark of hope extinguished by the cold reality of his situation. He watched her retreating back, the words he had rehearsed a hundred times in his head now seeming so trivial. He had taken the plunge, and all he had to show for it was a simple thank you.
The conversation around him resumed, but he barely heard it. His mind was racing with thoughts of what he could have said, what he should have done differently. But as the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch, he realized that he had done it. He had talked to her. And she had talked back. It was a small victory, but it was something. Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for him after all. As he gathered his books and started walking to his next class, he couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope, a glimmer that grew stronger with each step he took away from the shadow of his shyness.
The rest of the day passed in a blur. His mind kept replaying their brief interaction, analyzing every word, every gesture. He couldn't shake the feeling that something had changed, that the invisible barrier that had separated them for so long had been breached. When the final bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, he found himself walking home with a slightly lighter step, his thoughts swirling with the possibility of what could come next.
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The next day, as he made his way to his locker, he saw her again. She was talking to a group of friends, her laughter pealing through the hallway. His heart quickened, and he felt the same fear and excitement that had gripped him the day before. But this time, he didn't hesitate. He walked straight up to her, his books clutched tightly to his chest. "Hey, Y/N," he said, his voice a little steadier this time. She looked up, her eyes meeting his, and she gave him a smile that seemed to hold a hint of curiosity.
"Hi, Matt," she replied, her voice as bright as the sun. "How was your day?" He swallowed, trying to form a coherent response. "It was okay," he said, his voice sounding strange to his own ears. "I heard about the game tomorrow," she said, her eyes sparkling. "Are you going?" He nodded, his heart racing. "Yeah, I might go." It was a lie. He had no intention of going to the game, but the thought of seeing her there made his palms sweat. "Maybe I'll see you there," she said, and with a wave, she was off again, leaving him to stare after her, feeling like he had just been handed the world on a silver platter.
The days that followed were a series of small moments like this. They passed each other in the halls, exchanged brief hellos, and occasionally shared a smile. Each interaction was a tiny victory for Matt, each smile a beacon of hope that grew brighter with every passing second. He began to feel less like the invisible nerd and more like a boy with a chance. He started to pay more attention to his appearance, wearing clothes that made him feel confident, practicing his smile in the mirror until it didn't feel forced. The slow burn of their friendship was growing into something more, something he hadn't dared to dream of.
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tags! @sturnstvs @gxldenlush @immattsslut @slut4chriss hope you liked!
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onskepa · 3 months ago
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Stxeli: Silly demon
Here is another chapter to keep you guys occupied while I type the next request! Enjoy!
Stxeli series
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“Hhhmmmhhmm~” Stxeli hums in content as she returns home from her little yovo adventure. Harvesting a good amount, many will eat well tonight. As she passes by, many greet her, some gifting her little trinkets or snacks. All that stxeli happily accepts and gives them yovo in gratitude. 
Arriving at her home, making sure the fruits are away from direct sunlight and in a cool nook, stxeli snacks on one of her gifts. There is still plenty of daylight left, her mother doesn't need her assistance and her father is important with his duties. Neytiri, her poor big sister, left to teach the ugly demon. 
So what can she do now?
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“What to do, what to do…” stxeli wonders as she walks around the village. Doing bits here and there, helping young mothers or playing with children around her age. Even helped one of the girls to braid her long hair. A skill stxeli is coming to be an expert at. Her family can proudly tell. 
“Stxeli!” 
She turns around to see Tsu'tey running up to her. Greeting each other, she smiles. 
“Hi tsu’tey! Aren't you going to train the others?” stxeli asks. 
Tsu’tey nods but grins a bit mischievous, “yes, we are going to ride the pali’s, would you like to come?” he offers. 
Stxeli loves pali riding, but the logical side of her speaks, “I love to, but I don't want to get in the way of your training” 
“You won't, your sister is already there with the demon” 
That instantly clicked in her mind, understanding tsu’tey now. Her grin matching his own, stxeli raises her arms up. 
“Up please!” 
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“Again!” Neytiri demands, her patience running thin. 
Jake sighs tiredly, getting up from the ground groaning in pain and exhaustion. To think riding a pali would be easy. Not everything is easy in Pandora, Jake guesses. If this is the easier part, he fears the future challenges he has to face. 
“Get up!” Neytiri looks down at him, showing her very obvious disapproving look. 
“I'm up, I'm up” Jake says. 
Getting back onto his feet, dusting himself off, “I know you are making this difficult for me, isn't there a better way?” he asks. 
“No, now try again” short and straightforward, something jake is taking notes about neytiri. 
He does again, this time he succeeds on getting on top of his pali, calming down the creature, he bonds with her. It felt odd yet amazing,  he can feel what the pali is feeling, feeling her heartbeat. Gathering the courage to go further, “HYAH!” he yelps, only for the thrust of the pali to be too quick. 
He falls once more, his face meeting mud. 
It took a lot of strength from neytiri to not laugh at his failure. 
Groaning in pain again, jake suddenly hears the sound of multiple hoof sounds. All coming to his direction.  So getting up and turning he sees none other than Tsu'tey and his students. Along with a tiny someone. 
“You should go away!” Tsu'tey sneers at jake. Speaking in clear english. 
“No, you’d miss me” jake talks back, a bit in a joking manner as he gets closer to tsu’tey. By instinct, tsu’tey turns his pali to cover stxeli from jake’s eyes. 
Ignoring what the warrior is doing, jake points at him, “I knew you speak english” 
Neytiri walks to jake, gently guiding the pali back. Tsu’tey speaks something to neytiri, something jake doesn't understand but chuckles it off.
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“He will not learn. A stone can see better. Look at him” tsu’tey tells neytiri, who just smiles. Shaking her head, she gives jake a little break to clean himself off. Jake happily does. 
“What are you doing here? I told you I don't want you to be anywhere near him” neytiri asks as she sees stxeli sitting comfortably in front of tsu’tey, while munching on some yovo fruit. 
“He offered!” stxeli was quick to point at tsu’tey. 
Neytiri glares at tsu’tey, grunting disapprovingly. 
“Are you two just here to watch Jake fail and laugh at him?” 
“Yes” her sister and friend both answer quickly and honestly. 
Sighing, neytiri places a hand on stxlie’s leg, “sister, please be careful, you as well tsu’tey. If she is joining you, then you will be fully responsible of her while I am busy”. 
Tsu’tey nods, “she is always safe with me,” he reminds.
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While keeping a safe distance, stxeli was enjoying her time. Seeing the dream walker fail time and time again was very amusing. And the silly faces he makes! He may be ugly but his goofy falls make up for it. 
However, because of the constant failures, it is getting on Neytiri's nerves. Clearly the dream walker is not improving at all. 
“Bah! You are pathetic! You will never learn like this!” Neytiri shouts in frustration. Up on one of the branches, stxeli was observing the whole ordinal. Neytiri is looking a lot like their father when angry. Down to furrowing their eyes. 
Jake was huffing and puffing, exhausted beyond his capability. 
“Done, we are done for today. Bathe yourself! You reek!” Neytiri shouts as she walks away. 
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“Stupid dreamwalker, stupid ugh!” Neytiri mutters in frustration as she chops the vegetables. The other na’vi kept their distance so as to not tip her anger even more. Mo’at took notice of neytiri’s emitting anger, and how it is frightening the others. Before she can ask, stxeli appear beside her. 
“Tsmuke is mad because the alien constantly fails. He is not improving sa’nu” mo’at’s youngest tells. Now finally understanding the situation. 
“You go on ahead, do what you like until dinner” mo’at says, nodding happily, stxeli leaves. 
Taking a deep breath, the tsahik gets up from her position to go speak with her eldest child. Knowing how much she takes after her father, mo’at prepares for a long talk
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“DAMN IT!” Jake curses out in anger. 
Once again Jake falls on his ass from trying to ride a pali. Groaning out in anger, he slams his fist against the ground. 
“The hell am I doing wrong?” He asks out. Letting his voice echo throughout the forest. 
“Theenk tu demon!” a voice was heard. 
Jake turned around, his ears twitching, trying to search for the voice. It sounded like a little child speaking, with a very heavy accent. 
“Hello….?” he calls out. 
“Theenk na’vi!” the voice speaks out again. 
Jake gets up, trying to find the source, “where the hell are you?” 
“STAY AWAY!” the voice screeches. 
Jake does so, feeling very confused. “Ok, ok I won't move” 
“Theenk na’vi!” the voice repeats. 
Aaaah, Jake now understands. Grinning a bit, he asks, “are you helping me?” 
“Halp tsumke” the voice replies. 
The voice no doubt belongs to neytiri’s “little sister”. The child, Jake suspects, is a human. Neytiri and the other na’vi would do their best to hide her from his view. Seems the child is doing the same. 
“Halp you, halp tsmuke” the child’s English was very broken, can barely understand her words. Her na’vi accent is very thick. 
“Ok…think na’vi you say..” Jake understood more. How the hell does that work? 
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Stxeli wanted to slam her whole head against the tree. Why did she think it was a good idea? Any of this? Maybe she was better off with tsu’tey. But seeing neytiri upset didn't sit well with her. No doubt she will be in big trouble for being this close to the demon, and alone non the less. Stxeli would do anything to ease her family’s tension. 
Too bad she didn't think it through that she had to speak in english to the demon. 
English is so hard! 
Stxeli only knows a few words from trying to repeat what her family says. Half the time she doesn't even know what it means. 
That demon better learn the peoples language soon because right now she sounds like a baby. 
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“Theenk na’vi! Pali theenk!” the child continues to say. 
Jake tilts his head, trying to code what she meant. 
“Thump…!! To thump! Beating!” 
“Are you talking about heartbeat?” Jake asks. Remembering what neytiri said. Feel the pali’s heartbeat. 
“Theenk na’vi! Pali theenk!” the child continues to say. 
Jake tilts his head, trying to code what she meant. 
“Thump…!! To thump! Beating!” 
“Are you talking about heartbeat?” Jake asks. Remembering what neytiri said. Feel the pali’s heartbeat. 
Looking at the pali, Jake takes a deep breath. Heading over, slowly raising his arms, displaying no threat. The pali takes notice, hesitant at first. 
“Easy…easy girl…” Jake soothes. The pali snorts out, letting jake get closer. 
“Bond! Kuru! Thump!” the child instructs. 
Rolling his eyes, jake carefully gets on the pali, being steady to not scare her. Feeling how calm she is, jake connects his kuru with the pali. Feeling what she is feeling, the thump of her heartbeat, the dirt from her hooves, the air in her nostrils. He can feel it all. 
“Theenk! One! Move!” 
“Ok…” taking it slow, jake thinks of what he wants to do. The pali starts to walk slowly around the area. Even taking a bit of jumps in glee. 
“Woa..!” he smiles, seeing as he has not fallen off to the ground again. 
“Ok let's try it” he mutters, his smile growing. The pali walks a bit faster, then faster, to the point where she begins to run around the area. Feeling her strong legs, her lungs taking deep breaths. It felt great, it was as though it was Jake who was running. 
“Woohoo!!” he cheers. 
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“You what?!” mo’at couldn't believe what she just heard. 
Stxeli looked down, feeling guilty. 
“I'm sorry sa’nu! I just didn't want tsmuke to be angry any longer” she tried to excuse. Mo’at wasn't hearing it. When her sweet child told her of how close she was in Jake's proximity, how it was so easy for him to see her. Mo’at was shaking in fear. 
One wrong move, that is all it can take, one wrong move and stxeli would be taken-
“Sa’nu?” 
Stxeli grabs her mothers hands, letting her smaller ones reach her warmth. 
By instinct mo’at pulled stxeli close to her chest, feeling her tiny heartbeat. Quickly it soothes mo’ats anxiety. 
“Ma’ite, that was very reckless of you. If neytiri told you to stay away from him, you do so. He is still considered dangerous ma’ite. I dont want anything terrible happen to you” mo’at says. 
Stxeli huffs a bit, “as if that demon can hurt me. He fell off of the poor pali multiple times” 
“I dont care. From now on you will be either with me, or your sempu. Do you hear me? If jakesully is close, you hide. I am serious ma’ite. Not until he is deemed trustworthy” 
Stxeli nods. However, seeing her mother behave like this is new to her. Not one did her mother display such uneasiness. It worried stxeli very much. 
“Sa’nu? Why are you and everyone so worried that the demon seeing me? Is something wrong with me?” stxeli couldn't help but ask. Mo’at was quick to shake her head, sharing a light kiss on her little head. 
“No, there is nothing wrong with you, my child. There are just things outsiders have no reason to lay their eyes on things that don't concern them”. 
Mo’at holds her child tightly, her golden eyes staring out into the world. Sharp and steady. She may allow Jake to stay in her village, but she will not hesitate to take him out if he ever dares to get close to her little one. 
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Aaaaaaaaaand that is it! Hope you all enjoyed this new chapter! Until next time! See ya!
Like the story? Click HERE to put your name in the taglist!
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gaysindistress · 1 year ago
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Hey my sweet sweetheart 😘 so I'm currently sitting in the dark as the power in the whole town went down and Id have the wish to have Bucky here with me. So there's maybe this idea where they have also no power at the compound and the reader sneaks her way into Bucks room cause she doesn't want to be alone and he prepares everything with candles and blankets to have all comfy so that he can cuddle you all night 🥺 aw this makes me crave him so bad 😞
Hey hey 💕
I tried to finish this yesterday but I got distracted when I got home. Anyways here it is! I hope you survived your power outage 😉
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The lights above flickered for a moment before all chaos descended upon me. The generators cry out as they shut off and even the air conditioning disappears too.
“Jarvis?” I hesitantly call for the AI that I hated at first but later thanked Tony for.
“Jarvis?” I call out again but there’s no reply.
I can hear others down the hall calling for him too but they too receive nothing. Vision waltzes through my wall and informs me that the power is out.
“Mr.Stark has yet to confirm when it will be back on. He asks that no one disturb him while he works to turn it back on,” he states before walking through my wall again.
I curse under my breath and flop myself onto my bed. I had been working on a mission report but seeing as the power is out and therefore the wifi, it doesn’t look like I’ll be doing anymore work.
Usually Tony is quick to get things up and running again however this new compound is significantly larger than Stark Tower. There may only be 3 stories to power however it spans across 15 acres, all of which contain various important power sources. I can only imagine how long it’ll take even with the help of Bruce and Peter (granted Peter may just get in the way but it’s the thought that counts.)
The reality of sitting alone in the dark for an indefinite amount of time starts to weigh on me and it’s been less than a minute. It’s not that I’m afraid of the dark, I’m just afraid of what’s IN the dark and being alone without a way to call for help isn’t where I want to be.
I slide out of bed, wrapped up in a blanket like it’s my armor and book it to the door. Popping my head out, I spot Wanda and Natasha walking towards me.
“We’re having a game night in the living room. You should come with us,” Wanda excitedly tells me but Natasha is quick to give me the answer I really want.
“He was in his room when we walked past,” she says with a faint smile.
“Thank you. Maybe next time,” I mumble to them as I dash past and towards his room.
When I come to stand in front of his door, I can’t find the courage to knock. I nervously shift on my feet as i hope the ceiling would come crashing down so i wouldn’t have to knock or survive this power outage. Voices float down the hall towards me and I know it’s now or never.
I gingerly knock, hoping that Bucky would hear and open the door before the voices see me.
The door cracks open and my savior looks at my wearily, “y/n?”
I wince at the harsh sound of his voice as the door cautiously swings open, allowing me a chance to slip in. I take it and tuck myself against the wall as Bucky turns to look at me.
“Come here,” he says in a gentler tone with his arms spread wide. When I don’t immediately take a step forward, he takes a cautious step towards me and waits. I almost knock him over from the force of me launching myself at him.
“Let’s get you into bed,” he whispers after pressing a kiss to the top of my head.
I barely nod in agreement and he’s gently pulling me towards his bed. Ever the gentlemen, he doesn’t try to remove my blanket and instead lifts his covers so I can curl into a ball under both layers.
He tucks his duvet around me before leaving and opening his closet. I can’t see what he’s doing but I can hear his gathering things and closing the door. Returning only minutes later to his position next my hunched form, he nudges my hip for me to move over. When I move, I can see that he’s lit several candles and placed them throughout the room. He doesn’t mention it as he crawls in next to me and wraps his arms around me.
“Thank you.”
“No need for that, doll. You know that.”
I move my head so I can look up at him and he does the same. I’ve always thought him to be the most beautiful men I’ve ever seen but the kindness and thoughtfulness of this moment confirms that. He is the epitome of beauty from his looks to his heart.
Bucky glances to my lips for a second and I do the same. It’s now or never.
We meet I n the middle, completely enthralled with each other and this moment. He closes the last few inches and captures my lips in a kiss. He shifts so that hes leaning over me as our lips move together, growing breathless. Pulling away, i smile at the man above me, delicate pieces of dark hair framing the face of this angel.
“You are the best thing that has ever happened to me” I murmur before my lips meet his once again. I feel him nod as our mouths part and his tongue slides against mine.
“And you are my light,” he murmurs back as we wrap ourselves up in each other.
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nebuladreamerrr · 4 months ago
Note
Kylian Mbappé imagine where he’s so nervous to meet your family. Especially nervous for your parents. Your family isn’t really a football family they’re more into basketball. They’re not that impressed by him.
Oooo and maybe when you get to meet his family,
And his mom tells him to the side that she has a real good feeling about you
I hope you enjoy it 💗💗
Lakers fan | Kylian Mbappé x Fem Reader
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Summary: Despite being a confident man, Kylian can't help but feel insecure and nervous about meeting your family. But will everything turn out okay?
Warnings: English is not my first language
Kylian couldn't stop mentally going over all the plans he had been mapping out for months. When you mentioned that you wanted to spend your vacation in the United States so that your family could finally meet him, his mind started working overtime. He couldn't stop thinking about everything he needed to remember: not to mix up French with English, not to forget the gifts for your family (soccer jerseys for your younger brothers, flowers for your mother, and a bottle of wine for your father), and to make sure not to address your father too informally. All of this seemed like a simple plan, but the fact that everything was in English made Kylian very nervous.
From the moment you met him, you didn't hesitate to tell him that his English was very good and that he should be proud of mastering a language that wasn't his mother tongue. Still, a few lessons with you were enough to turn him into a professional in the language.
But this wasn't what made the French footballer nervous. It seemed unbelievable that before a match against the best players in the world, he had the strength and courage not to doubt his abilities. There's no denying that the young Frenchman is one of the best players in the world, but even the biggest stars tend to get nervous and review the matches of the stars they are going to face. However, Kylian wasn't like that. He could play in a big stadium with millions of fans chanting his name, and in his mind, it was as if he were playing a match with his childhood friends.
Without a doubt, that's what made you fall in love with Kylian: that ability to make even the most exclusive and extravagant events seem like a simple gathering in the park after school. Kylian always showed you that side of himself whenever he could, whether it was when you entered a clothing store and he mentioned how he used to have a shirt with the same pattern when he was little, when you ate at different restaurants and he always compared them to the ones in his hometown (which obviously always won), or even when he had a very important meeting with his representatives and afterward told you, "Phew, I almost fell asleep. For a moment, I was transported back to when my school principal gave talks that were supposed to last ten minutes and ended up lasting 100 hours."
But having to navigate in another language and meet your parents and entire family made him extremely nervous. Especially since he discovered that they weren't big soccer fans; in fact, they rarely watched soccer matches. Instead, it was rare for the TV not to be showing an NBA game. Kylian was a basketball fan too, but with so many matches, training sessions, and competitions, he couldn't watch all the basketball games he wanted or keep up with the big stars and promising future talents.
Kylian wasn't just worried about his own nerves; he was also focused on making sure you felt comfortable and happy. Although the United States was your home country, you hadn't been back in a long time. Since moving to Paris and more recently to Spain, your sense of home had spread across these three places. He knew you'd be thrilled to reunite with your family and make plans with all your friends, but he also understood it would be strange to return to a home that had changed since you last saw it. That's why Kylian planned every detail of the trip to the United States meticulously.
Kylian worked hard to learn a few phrases in English that might impress your parents and practiced how to behave in social situations that might be different from those in France, like not greeting your parents with the typical three kisses. He knew this visit was important to you, and he was determined to do everything possible to make it a success.
Additionally, Kylian had organized a special surprise for you. He had reserved a dinner at an elegant restaurant atop a skyscraper, with stunning views of the city. This was the perfect place for you to reconnect with all your childhood friends—those you had shared moments with since kindergarten, those you had spent so much time training with through cheerleading routines, and, most importantly, those you had shared countless laughs with. He wanted your family to see how much you meant to him and how much he valued every moment with you. He also thought it was a great opportunity for them to understand that he didn't want you to isolate yourself from your friends.
Furthermore, he had prepared a speech with the help of your best friend to express his feelings and gratitude for welcoming him into your home. This would demonstrate his commitment and dedication to both you and your family, making it clear that he had made a genuine effort to integrate into your life and roots.
On the day of departure, while waiting at the airport, Kylian took your hand and looked at you with a calm smile. "Everything will be fine," he confidently assured you. "We've planned everything, and most importantly, we're in this together." His words gave you the reassurance you needed. Together, you boarded the plane towards a new adventure, confident that whatever happened, you would face it with love and mutual support.
The arrival in the United States was emotional. Your best friends welcomed you with hugs and tears of joy, and Kylian introduced himself with the kindness and respect that always characterized him. The first few hours flew by with laughter, memories, and the joy of being together. However, you quickly headed to the hotel you had reserved for your stay to recharge for that special evening.
You had slight suspicions when Kylian warned you to dress elegantly that night because you were going to dinner at a city venue. You thought he might have something up his sleeve, but you quickly dismissed the idea because these spontaneous dates were normal in your relationship. Often, these getaways were the best way to relieve Kylian from stress.
Upon arriving at the restaurant, the waiters guided you to a reserved area. Your suspicions grew when you saw this area was covered by a curtain. Upon opening it, a loud "Surprise!" rang out, and you were greeted with a multitude of hugs and questions about how your recent years had been. Meanwhile, Kylian quickly adapted, chatting with some of your friends he had met that morning or conversing with their partners.
The dinner at the skyscraper was a resounding success. Your friends were surprised to see Kylian, and he quickly won their affection with his warmth and simplicity. The speech he prepared was emotional and sincere, eliciting applause and tears from everyone present. In his words, you could clearly see how much he loved you. He thanked you for following "this crazy head" and for never doubting him, even in his wildest plans. He promised to always make you the happiest person in the world, to take care of you, to be your unconditional support, and above all, to plan your future together with both of your interests in mind.
Kylian felt much more at ease knowing that your friends had accepted him. However, the great challenge of being accepted by your family still lay ahead. He had tried his usual routine to calm his nerves: a cold shower in the morning, a light breakfast, and an intense gym session. But it didn't seem to work today. So, when you informed him that you were going to take a shower to start getting ready, Kylian didn't hesitate to call his mother.
She had always been there for him, not only as a professional and great agent capable of negotiating with major clubs but also emotionally. She was the person who had been by his side during his first breakup, and luckily, she had already had the opportunity to meet you.
"Hello, mom," Kylian said softly as he sat on the hotel bed. "I need some advice… Today is the day I'll meet y/n's family, and I can't help feeling nervous."
His mother, with her usual wisdom and affection, reminded him that being himself was the most important thing. "They will love you for who you are, Kylian. You have shown yourself to be an incredible person, and take the opportunity for them not to be your fans but to fall in love with the real Kylian and not the superstar. Besides, y/n loves you deeply. Trust in that."
His mother's words gave Kylian the reassurance he needed, knowing that everything she said was true. Ten months ago, Fayza had the chance to meet you at a gala organized by Mbappé's association. She was completely captivated seeing you interact so naturally with young children, showing your genuine interest in ensuring everyone was happy and enjoying the day. When you finally made sure all the children were content and had received a small bag with the association's logo, including coloring books, crayons, and a soccer ball, you approached Fayza, apologizing for not being able to do so sooner. So when a child clamored for your attention again, Fayza discreetly approached Kylian to make sure to tell him that she knew you were the love of his life.
After hanging up, Kylian felt more prepared for the meeting. At the end of the day, it wasn't just about impressing your family but showing them how much you meant to him.
When you arrived at your parent's house, your mother opened the door with a big smile, politely greeting Kylian and enveloping you in a warm hug, welcoming you both into your childhood home with her natural charm. Entering the living room, you spotted your siblings with your father. After the initial greetings, you all managed to sit in different parts of the room before Kylian handed out the gifts he had brought, carefully considering your family's preferences.
It's true that your younger siblings weren't big fans of soccer and hadn't heard of Kylian before, but they knew he was a great athlete. Above all, they had seen in recent videos his dedication to the sport and the good values he promoted on the field, so they didn't hesitate to excitedly rush to put on their jerseys while shyly hugging Kylian.
Your mother was delighted with the flowers he had given her and asked about the florist where he had gotten them before quickly running to get a vase and put the flowers in water. But your father was different.
He had always been like this: very affectionate but also very overprotective and, above all, a joker. He had always taken every opportunity to scare the boys you brought home.
"A bottle of wine, Kylian, huh? Interesting. I hope this isn't an indirect way of wishing me to kick the bucket soon, young man. And I also hope this isn't in your regular drinks, because if it is, I'll doubt your sporting abilities."
Nervously, Kylian began to stammer, "Monsieur, I mean, sorry, sir, it wasn't my intention, I…"
"Dad, stop making him nervous and behave yourself. We have a cellar at home, I don't know who you're trying to impress," you replied annoyed, giving Kylian a reassuring look.
The tension had already set in, and even though you tried to calm Kylian by gently caressing his hand, you understood that this wasn't entirely calming him. With each passing minute, his discomfort became more evident.
A few minutes later, your father insisted again with another uncomfortable question: "So, Kylian, tell us, what makes soccer the best sport in the world for you?"
"Uh, well, there are many good sports and I appreciate several of them, but soccer has always been the sport I've practiced. I just enjoy it like a little kid when I play with my teammates. I really enjoy playing a team sport," nervously replied Kylian.
"Well, I value your opinion, but let me question what you've said. I'm not sure if you've considered that soccer is a sport where many people win titles, but only one player from the team stands out. That doesn't happen in basketball. Everyone must stand out, whether as a team, training hard individually, and respecting the coach's decisions. The latter you've had a hard time with in the last year, haven't you, Kylian?"
Kylian didn't know where to put himself. He didn't expect his girlfriend's family to criticize his sporting actions. He agreed that many times he hadn't had the best reactions, but he was working on that. "Yes, sir, I know it's something I need to work on and…"
"Dad, stop it. It's the last time I tell you," you responded firmly, with a challenging look.
"But if we're just having a conversation, right, Kylian?" your father said.
"Yes, yes, calm down, honey," Kylian replied, trying to smooth over the situation.
Taking advantage of the uncomfortable pause, your mother entered the room with a tray of refreshments and some snacks, trying to ease the tension. "Let's relax a bit, okay? We're here to have a good time and get to know each other better," she said with a smile.
Grateful for the change of subject, Kylian dove into conversation about some childhood memories and funny anecdotes from his career. Your younger siblings, fascinated, started asking him lighter questions about his training sessions and encounters with other famous athletes.
The evening continued with ups and downs, but gradually everyone relaxed. Kylian took the opportunity to show his more human and approachable side, which slowly won over your father's sympathy.
The tension continued to build in the room when your father, with a cunning smile, asked, "And tell me, Kylian, are you a fan of any basketball team?"
"Yes, sir, I'm a big fan of the Lakers," Kylian replied with a tentative smile.
"I can't believe it, the most wretched team of the season. Do you really support a team like that? If you consider yourself a great player, which I'm still not convinced of, you should support a great team like the Celtics," your father replied, not hiding his disdain.
Kylian had lost all the energy he had. He felt mentally exhausted and didn't know what to say anymore. He lowered his head, ashamed, feeling like he had failed to impress your father.
"That's enough, we've had enough. Kylian, let's go," you said, getting up quickly. Kylian was astonished, not expecting you to take his side and confront your father.
"No, honey, it's okay," Kylian tried to calm you, though he clearly appreciated your support.
At the end of the night, when the atmosphere had calmed down, your father approached Kylian with a softer expression. "You know, soccer may not be my favorite sport, but I see how hard you work and how much you mean to my daughter. I just want you to know that you have a family here that will support you, as long as you make her happy."
Kylian touched and shook your father's hand firmly. "Thank you, sir. I promise to do everything I can to take care of her and make her happy."
When you finally retired to the hotel, Kylian looked at you with a mixture of relief and happiness. "It's been a tough day, but I think we passed the test."
You smiled, feeling a weight lifted off your shoulders. "Yes, we did. Together, as always."
That night, as you prepared to sleep, Kylian was reflective. "You know, I always knew meeting your family would be a challenge, but I didn't expect it to be so intense."
"My father has always been protective, but over time he'll see how amazing you are," you replied, gently caressing his face.
"I hope so. I want them to know how much I love you and how much you mean to me," said Kylian, with renewed determination.
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bucknastysbabe · 13 days ago
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Rating: Explicit
Tags: MONSTERBOINKING, pnv!sex, werewolves/lycanthropy, the cheesy calm the beast trope, step daddy Criston, vague Victorian/edwardian era but in Westeros, TW: dub-con, blood and guts, groomer behaviors, uh he got that dawg💄, YEAH ANYWAYS, virgin targtower!reader, prey predator tropes, summerhall! Help!, Criston’s conflicted anguish but can’t stop fucking syndrome, your honor she’s 22
Taglist: @aemondfairy @arcielee @elaratyrell @elfven-blog @ellemarianne555 @fairysluna @jacesvelaryons @jamespotterismydaddy @lovelykhaleesiii @sammmy7499 @starogeorgina @sugarpopss @towriteloveontheirarms @urmomsgirlfriend1 @zaldritzosrose
Divider by @racingairplanes W/C is 5k
A/N: Yeah so idk what came over me I slapped this out like the good ole days and hope for the best thanks Grammarly and horny colewives and the depths research take me to are places I would go with a grenade launcher but here we are. Happy Halloween fuckers boop boop
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Your stepfather had returned from an expedition from beyond the Wall with fellow retired officers from the Westerosi army. He came back sick and delirious, an infected bite of lupine nature on his ribs. You worried by his sickbed beside your mother and Daeron.
Aemond had come home to help as the man of the house. It was a horrid time, you prayed and prayed as Criston moaned lowly, sweating and writhing in pain as the maesters whispered about Direwolf bites. How he was lucky he didn’t get mauled. How no one had seen one in centuries.
Centuries.
His fever broke. Quicker than expected he got better, up and walking within a fortnight. Your loving stepfather you adored was back. Yet dismay overcame your aching heart as Criston wasn’t quite the same. Summerhall was quiet and desolate as always. It was lively once— before all of your siblings moved away, to pursue a career, start a family, and be a wastrel in the Capitol living off the family wealth.
Your mother and Criston began to talk less and less. Your bedroom lay below them. They’d fight about Rhaenyra. Fight about whether Criston was too soft on you or Alicent with Daeron, why did your grandpa have to come by so often? After hissing and uttering horrible things they’d…carnally figure it out.
You hated how you willingly listened in, body in knots as you shamefully tuned your mother out, red-faced as you secretly relished in his grunts and sighs, deep throaty moans that had your hands gripping the bed in need.
Every morning after a night such, you would pray in the small Sept erected behind the manor, fervently apologizing and confessing your wickedness to the maiden for hours. You would continue until your fingers bled from the prayer beads.
It wasn’t a happy place. You had a reprieve in typing away on your new typewriter, riding horses with your younger brother, and Criston. Except Criston wasn’t Criston. As he got ‘better’, he became choleric and isolated.
Loud noises irritated him, he’d been on a witch hunt for every critter in the house, claiming he could hear them scuttling about. The carnal noises at night were feral and disturbing, enough to make you stop your secret listening and turn over, wide-eyed. He’d go hunting on full moons and return tired and ragged— no game in sight.
The horses disliked the normally genteel man, the woods grew quiet when he sat outside to smoke on the porch. You began to grow more and more concerned, but he was snappish and you were a meek little thing— the sheltered daughter who stuttered when she spoke to lords and caught chills easily. Overdue to not being married and with a child.
You’d peered out the grand windows of the manor, seeing the glow of Criston’s pipe. He was smoking his cherry tobacco, a habit of his on a nice night. You gathered your courage and gently peered out of the front door.
His sharp eyes flickered over, exhaling the fragrant smoke before rasping, “What are you doing up, bunny?” You blushed at the old nickname, something born of you being skittish yet soft, sweet, and easy to prey on. The way Criston’s dark eyes gazed upon you made you feel like a cornered bunny.
“I was reading and noticed you were still out sir, I wanted to check on you. We haven’t spoken much lately.”
You shifted, feeling awkward. Criston’s dark curls fell across his thick brows, puffing on his pipe again. It was dead silent as he exhaled, a hand running over his overgrown stubble. He rumbled, “You need to stop reading those dreadful pulp books. Come here.”
You made to sit next to him, a hand wrapping around your wrist, Criston’s voice a near growl as he pulled you gently onto his lap. He emptied his pipe, an arm coming around your waist. You swallowed, feeling your flesh heat, the feelings you prayed away coming back as he was so close.
“Who brings you those books, hm?”
You replied, “Aemond sends them to me, sir.”
He shook his head, one big hand rubbing your soft waist, then tucking your head against his chest. Your stepfather inhaled slowly, sighing out. He grumbled, “If it makes you happy. Like that damn typewriter, he got you too.”
Writing was a passion of yours— they’d begun to let women study at the University of King’s Landing. You’d ask. Sometime soon. Maybe.
Instead, you snuggled against his chest, desperately needing the comfort. Yet you remained wary of propriety at the moment. Your eyes helplessly cast to the front door. He laughed darkly, “She’s asleep girl, stop your fretting.”
You mumbled, “She’d be upset.”
“I don’t give a damn. You’re my girl, my most special girl.”
You flushed, chest warming at his words. He huffed a laugh again, looking at you, eyes almost flashing in the moonlight, squeezing your waist, lips stretching into a grin. Your heart thumped against your breast as he ever so softly murmured, “I’d keep you here forever if I could, the sweet little bunny doesn’t need all those wolves surrounding her at those balls.”
His canines were sharp in the low light. You wondered what he was if the lordlings were ‘wolves’.
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Criston had been getting ready for his hunt, snappish and dismissive beforehand as always. He went without a horse, gun slung on his back, dagger on his waist. You’d tittered about the recent livestock attacks on some of the tenant's farms. Alicent stood up on the porch, arms crossed.
“There could be a puma down from the Red Mountains, do you want to be mauled for good with time?” She pointed out.
He snapped, “Someone’s got to deal with the tenant’s issues. Unless you plan on toting a rifle.”
You looked at Criston, pleading with your eyes. He tugged on one of your perfectly placed curls, a finger under your chin. His dark eyes turned up to your mother before moving to you. Criston murmured, “There’s much worse in the world than a big cat, stay indoors, tell Dare to be a good boy.”
You nodded, brows knitting.
Retreating to your mother’s side, Alicent pursed her lips. She shook her head, huffing, “He’s got a death wish, the fool.” You frowned, picking at the lace of your sleeves. Looking at her pursed lips, you nervously convinced yourself, “He’ll be fine. He’s got a gun. He’s always fine, right?”
She stared into the woods, dark eyes pensive as Criston’s form began to blend into the trees. She spat, “One day you’ll understand that no man will be tame. They do as they please and we pick up the pieces, do well to mind that.”
Her disapproving glare turned to you, hissing, “Even the ones you love so much.”
She turned on her heel, going inside with a slam of the doors.
You swallowed down a noise, hands gripping in your skirts. You worried. Perhaps if you just took a jaunt on your horse you could clear your head, run along your stepfather, and convince him to come back home where it was safe. Your boots were in the stables, there was a good amount of light left in the day.
You followed the trail down to the stone stable, the farrier already gone home. The staff had been making themselves scarce before sundown in light of the attacks. Entering the stable, you looked down toward Winter, Criston’s Barrowlands draft horse. The poor thing had not been ridden since Criston had returned.
Winter was cantankerous, but he handled her well. You’d overheard your stepfather complain to the farrier about the horse acting fearful. It was strange— he’d had her for ten years now. All the horses seemed to be displeased by his presence.
You took off your small-heeled shoes, changing into more comfortable riding boots. Approaching your horse, a Dornish Sand Steed named Ferris. You pet his ashen snout, cooing at the mild-mannered equine, feeding him one of the carrots always stashed in the stable.
Stepping into the stall, you brushed him off quickly before hauling on his saddle. You despised sidesaddle, your mother too, so you got to have a standard one. Ferris nickered as you pulled on his halter and attached the reins, patting his neck.
It was a swift hop until you were astride the steed, clicking your tongue to move forward, pushing one of the barn doors open to the path that divvied off into trails. Your eyes cast across the land, noticing the Red Mountains looked ablaze with the sun.
You’d better make this foolish jaunt quick. Praying you may see Criston and talk some sense into him dominated any sort of logic. You have always been such an emotional creature. Ushering Ferris into a canter, your pale hair flew in the wind as you rode.
Onwards you went, eyes wide as you looked through the brush and scrub. You’d passed some of the bloody leftovers of the sheep, stopping to gasp. Taking a moment to suck in a breath, wide eyes on a rotten half-gnawed skull and another strewn body, bloodied and maggot-covered wool about.
Ferris was edgy himself, the whites of his eyes on display. The imminent danger you’d ignored settled within your bones— cold and hard. You trembled, trying to ease your quickly panicking horse.
Snap.
Ferris reared with a whinny, you holding for dear life, cursing on the Seven as the breed known for its quickness was showing off. Yet this was a forest, not a desert. You dug your heels in, tried to pull on the reins hard, shouting ‘Woah!’
The sand steed skidded, taking a hard right— throwing you off. Your scream was cut short as your body hit a tree, breath was knocked out. You’d hit it so hard you bounced off, head struck hard against the ground as leaves and bark fell upon your unconscious frame.
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You awoke to darkness. Cold. The smell of ozone and earth. With a soft grunt, you pulled yourself up, head splitting with pain. Your fingers felt a lump on your head, dried blood that had dripped down your face. You whined as you felt your bruised ribs.
Ferris threw you off.
You had no idea where you were, your horse was gone, it was dark. Not to mention a predator on the loose. Your stepfather was ‘hunting’. Probably not this far out. You remembered the gore of sheep remains, shivering.
Intense fear filled your chest, looking around the dark trees. You needed shelter, out of the open trees where the puma could stalk and hide. Taking a shallow, pained breath, you used the tree to help you upright. Exhaling sharply, you silently cursed yourself for your stupidity.
“Never tame a man— even the ones you love,” came your mother’s voice, nagging your mind.
Taking a shaky step forward, your eyes strained for any of the rocky feet of the Red Mountains. There were crags and sometimes old hideouts from the days of the Marcher Skirmishes. The Dornish were good at making hidden sanctums. You dragged yourself along, ears hyperactive.
The clouds must have shifted— the full moon’s light bathed the forest in an eerie glow. You whimpered, moving faster, frantic eyes spotting a hardness against the natural shapes of nature. It was a whittled-down stone, a sure sign of what you were looking for.
You pushed through the burning pain in your side, panting as you made your way to the stones. Now grateful for the moonlight, you saw it, a cut into the red rock, big enough for a man to get through, much less a woman like you. Your eyes almost caught the much bigger opening above.
You collapsed in a heap once inside, panting and whining in pain. You lay in the darkness, breathing shallow as some energy had to come back. Eventually, you got up again, looking around. There were old weapon racks and scimitars. Much neater if you weren't lost alone in the wild as a sheltered, idiotic noblewoman.
Eyes adjusting further, you noted there were two separate tunnels.
“I’m dead as is…” you murmured, taking the right, and limping into the darkness. As you went deeper, the smell of the damp cave turned into something more foul— iron and rot. Blood. You held a hand over your mouth, gagging. It was the damn thing’s lair? You walked a step further, boot splattering into a puddle.
You knew what it was.
The stench of rot thickened. This was the feeding grounds. You whimpered again, falling to your knees, sobbing in the darkness. A voice reminded you to be stronger than that. You didn't know whose it was in your brain. Probably everyone you cared for. You didn't want to die, let them grieve and miss you.
Criston would lose himself. He would blame himself, you know he would.
Taking another painful breath, you dipped your hand into the blood, slathering it on your dress and neck, wherever your scent may waft. More tears slid down your face as you wiped some of your messed up hair, the blonde tresses fell and frizzy.
You went to place your hand on the wall to steady yourself, finding nothing. You fell through a small gap, landing with a pained ‘oof’. Sitting up again with a grimace, a feeling of safety seemed to embrace you. This little nook of sorts was hidden away.
A plan began to formulate in your mind. You could wait here. Eventually, the beast will come back and feed or sleep. Your best shot was sneaking out and running for it when the animal was distracted. Sighing softly, you felt around the tiny room, finding a knife of sorts, thankfully sheathed.
More shifting around and your hands felt clothing, a shredded shirt, some pants? Your fingertips felt blind— picking up a jacket of fine quality, you could figure that much feeling the fabric. It wasn’t damaged like the other items. You felt at the inside of the collar, looking for embroidery or something sewn.
You kept smelling the air, wondering why something smelt other than rot. Something that made you feel. Cashmere? Silk? The leather of the knife perhaps. Fingertips grazed some thick threading, feeling out the letters.
L-t, C-o-l, C-C-o-l-e.
Your heart stopped. A cold sweat broke out upon your blood-covered skin and ruined dress. Why was Criston’s jacket here? You smelled it, figuring out the cause of the scent— it was that cherry tobacco. You gripped it tightly, confused. What if he had hidden here too? What if he was dead? You muffled your mouth with the cloth, too scared, too upset to do much but heave.
Silence fell once again.
Your mind was going wild in the dark. You ached, it was freezing, and your stepfather could be dead for all you knew. You leaned against the wall, holding his jacket against you. Held it even when you jolted from the sounds of heavy breath and dragging.
It grew closer, the dragging of two dead bodies accompanied by the sound of two feet, and heavy breathing. That wasn’t a damn puma, you realized. Puma didn’t walk on two feet. Your mind went even further into fear and madness.
A monster? Like the ones out of your stupid dime novels?
Full moon. Animal attacks. You shuddered, listening out, breath hushed by Criston’s coat. The recollection of a silly story about were beasts and half men-half direwolves preying on the frozen North struck you.
The crunch and sound of an animal eating voraciously alerted you from your mind going down the worst route…yet. Now was the time to run. You clutched the knife and coat— refusing to die without some comfort if this went wrong.
Slithering out of the space, you crawled and crawled, not turning back once. The pain in your ribs was searing— you grit your teeth. Larger teeth crunched against sinew and bone from behind as the more illuminated front of the abandoned hideout came into view.
You breathed out, feeling dizzy from your bruised ribs crying for mercy. You fell forward from your knees, panting as quietly as you could. The energy was sapping from your body quickly. Drawing up the last of your will— the need to see your family again, the need for another day came upon you.
You shrugged off your boots, quiet as a mouse, and limped toward the near-blinding entrance. You took one staggering step at a time, biting on the coat to shut up. Your hand reached the entrance before something fell behind you. You crumpled to the ground, seeking somewhere to hide, crawling under nets behind weathered supplies crates.
A roar echoed from the depths of the right tunnel. Your blood was ice. Your breathing grew frantic as the sounds of pounding footsteps and growling. Claws were tearing at wood, cleaving its way around.
Others take you. The boots. You left your damned boots right there. It knows.
You clutched the coat and unsheathed the knife with one, shaking and praying for a quick death if it all went wrong. It felt like hours as it sniffed around, growling and rumbling, growing frustrated. Your wide eyes saw one of your boots hit the carved-out ceiling.
The boxes in front of you splintered and crackled, the netting easily sliced. You screamed in horror, eyes now upon the beast as you frantically crawled backward— it roared, heaving and slowly stepping forward.
Your eyes studied it in a state of shock. The beast was huge, with black curly hair adorning its long arms and legs, and claws on its hands and feet. Blood dripped from the sharp canines, bared, snarling at you, the slightly elongated nose just as angry looking. You whimpered, unable to process what stooped in front of you, growing closer and closer.
No, wait, it was like the book. A werewolf. You screamed as it growled and stepped closer, holding the jacket up to your mouth. One of the werewolf’s big hands jerked you forward, a furrowed brow and dark eyes inspecting your face. It huffed and sniffed at you, bloody drool smacking you in the cheek as you cried.
It yanked Criston’s coat away from you— leaving you to reach and cry and screech for it. The knife was all but forgotten. A strange look crossed its once enraged features as you sobbed for the coat, begging for something that couldn’t possibly understand. One of those clawed hands encircled your throat, pulling you upward, clenching enough to stop your squalling.
Human-like eyes were closer now as it bent down, face to face with you. You stared, wheezing as it looked…confused…eyes turning from you to the coat and back. As if it was asking you ‘why?’
The pressure on your throat lifted.
“It’s my stepfather’s coat, I- I need it- I need it,” you pled, “If you kill me let me have it to hold, please- if someone is in there- please.”
The werewolf blinked, your shrieks muffled by his musky fur as its wet nose and mouth pressed against your neck and inhaled deeply, nuzzling you. You shivered at the strange feeling, whimpering once more.
“There’s much worse in the world than a big cat.”
The wolfman pulled back, brows furrowing. Your mind was reeling but the pieces all fit. You wept a little, crawling towards the beast and backing away. Back holding the coat you pled fervently, struck with emotions.
“Criston? Criston is that you? I won’t tell you, you don’t have to hurt me, is that you?”
The Lycan’s frightening visage softened, those big dark eyes you dreamed about facing you head-on. It held your gaze, a mournful noise deep from its big chest, peaks of his olive skin showing through.
You frowned, seeing the anguish. Criston was inside the beast, he was the beast. He was the horrid thing that ate the sheep and changed into something unnatural and dangerous. You watched him pace back and forth— claws hitting the stone made you jump, and clutch the coat harder.
“Please- I don’t want you to feel alone, I’ll keep this a secret, you shouldn’t suffer alone. Please, just look at me.”
He stopped and turned, advancing on you quickly, picking you up with one arm. You clutched the coarse hair of his shoulders, once again shaking. Criston— the beastly version— inhaled your neck again, softly smelling, a chest-deep rumble shaking your frame. You felt red in the face, squeaking when its long tongue lapped your neck, cleaning the blood off. You now notice his ears, pointed and bigger.
You were led down the other hallway and laid upon likely ancient furs. The lycan was smart enough to hand you a small candle and some flint stone. You had a feeling the beast was subdued, needs met and the human could come forth. Your shaky hands got the tiny fire lit, illuminating your messy state, and well…Criston was a giant man-wolf thing.
He grunted, eyes darkening at your state. You explained, “I smeared blood all over myself so my scent would be muted. I just couldn’t leave the coat. Your scent spooked my horse and I took a nasty fall.”
He looked annoyed, growling and grumbling as his over large frame paced around the chamber, picking you up once again and leading you further into the gloom. Your eyes widened as he somehow shifted through a hole, and you cradled against his chest. You had no doubt it was your stepfather now, the little gestures and micro-expressions too familiar.
You remained alive, staring at cave springs and glowing mushrooms. He dropped you back down, a claw flicking the button to your dress. You could almost hear it now.
“Get bathed, then come and let me see what you did this time.”
You blushed heavily, still not sure whether to run in terror or not. But you stripped to your shift, ready to step in. A growl stopped you. He pulled at your chemise then retreated into the poorly lit chambers.
You took off the buttoned drawers first, then the slip, shivering as you stepped into the shallow pool, sighing as it wasn’t cold, a lovey hidden hot spring. Briskly washing off the blood, guts, and wolf slobber, you braided your hair again, slipping the white linen back on, shivering at the coolness of the cave…shivering at Criston seeing you like this.
As a godsdamn werewolf.
He was hunched over now, looking at the coat, quickly turning as you reentered, the shift clinging to your wet curves, soft and rounded. You blushed and he let out a deep growl. You had decided to button the drawers underneath the slip, knowing he’d want to see your bruising.
You shyly sat down on the furs and carpets, letting the wolf lay you down, a claw lifting your slip, face turning into pure anger, a deep rumble from the sight of the mottling across usually soft and delicate skin. You nervously murmured, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I went looking for you like a fool. I didn’t think that…” you trailed off.
Silence filled the air.
Another shiver tore through you, heavy bust peaking through the thin fabric strained across your breasts. Purple eyes met obsidian. He covered you in an instant, paw-like hand gently rubbing the bruising, eyes almost pitying you. He rumbled again, nuzzling your neck and décolleté.
Another big hand was on the right side of you, a little rougher, feeling your softened flesh. You babbled under the ministrations, the warmth of his larger body a comfort and a distraction. You began to wonder if this was real.
“Criston- wolf- sir- why now?”
He lapped at your neck as to apologize, hands sliding up and down your sides, one ghosting up your slip, running back on your soft tummy, the claws barely touching. You whimpered, heart speeding up, waiting for something. Criston looked at you again, lips dropping to press a sweet kiss.
You gripped at the skin and human hair on his chest, finding yourself rather intoxicated with desire now. His touch roamed to your teats, huge hands able to get a nice handful, squeezing. You whined, babbling, “I’ve always wanted you- Gods save me.”
He rumbled, amused as he grew impatient, growling as he squeezed and flicked a claw against your nipple; lapping and lapping at the other through your thin slip. Your needy hands pulled at your drawers, shivering as you pushed them down, soaked cunt bare.
“Gods- oh gods,” you mewled.
Criston’s hands retreated from your skin quickly, his nose twitching now— growling, eyes moving to between your legs. You desperately mewled, “D-don’t tear me in half…I know the beast is coming back.”
The beast in him didn’t have all of its needs filled. Fight, flight, feed, and now fuck. You took off your slip, bared for his gaze.
You were promptly turned onto your belly, ass hiked up as feral grumbling and growls came from behind, his nose and tongue coming up your back, hands on your ass and thighs roughly as you whimpered, panting and shaking.
A blunt tip pushed at your virgin entrance, surprisingly slick. You whimpered again before he howled in excitement as the rest of his huge cock entered you, tearing your maidenhead and penetrating you deep. Your fingers clawed at the floor as he began to fuck in earnest.
You panted and whined in pain, getting on your elbows to ease the pressure on your ribs, dulled earlier by the hot springs. Now you were burning between your legs and there, focusing on the stretch of your inner walls, how thick and wet he felt.
The pain was still there, pinching some. Criston growled and growled, forcing the most obscene noises from your pussy. He licked and nibbled at the nape of your neck as you felt the primal rhythm of his fucking begin to heat up, growing hotter with every rub.
“Ngh, wet, oh! S’full.” came the nonsensical words between wet slaps. The beast seemed to like how he stretched you to your limits, rutting ceaselessly as he felt where his cock had you speared. You panted, hand slapping down to where a mess was being made, rubbing that place you’d read about, tightening down further.
Criston whined this time— claws digging into your full hips. His face nuzzled against yours, rumbling and whining like a puppy, his cock swelling as you tightened. It felt so good, surrounded by him, your virgin pussy being rubbed and rubbed from the inside and out with a frantic hand, noises wet and sloppy.
You didn’t realize how loud you were crying and carrying on as he fucked you deep and hard, Criston, the beast, both— began to grind upwards, easily manipulating your hips. You mewled when the soft, sensitive roof of your cunt was being massaged by his veiny prick. You gasped, at the end of your rope, “Sir, Cristoooon, oh, sir, sir, oh gods- I can’t do it- oh gods.”
That wasn’t an appropriate wolf-man answer. He simply angled you harder, the tip now gently kissing your cervix. Slow and intense, rub rub rub. You blinked, feeling a sob from the intensity building up. A furry arm wrapped up under you, holding you close to his warm body as you began to unravel, pleasure filling your lower body before spreading outwards like a heavy blanket. He lapped and held you through it, kissing a little, surprising you when the beast whined like it was in pain, a mournful howl before painting your twitching cunt with white-hot seed.
You knew you were done, for now, too fucked out and delirious. The wolf pulled your smaller body atop of him, you feeling like your beloved stepfather was back, albeit in a way you were sure it took being insane to see. You didn’t have time to think about it, resting against his broad frame, eyelids drooping as its big arms enveloped you.
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You awoke with a gasp, yelping at a very naked Criston staring at a very naked you. He grabbed you gently, eyes fierce, pressing his forehead and nose to your own. His human-sized hands were holding your shoulders as he croaked, “My bunny, my baby, forgive me, you need to you need to end this.”
You pulled back, frowning before taking his stubbled cheeks in hand, eyes taking in the anguish across his features. You swore, “No. I- I wanted it. I still want it. If we need to come to a means like that, we’ll walk to the ends of the earth first.”
He stared at you, quivering in agony. He looked so tired. He looked scared. You hugged him, uncaring of anything but the man who kept you afloat— beast or not. You spoke firmly against his ear, “I’m not leaving you behind. I won’t have you do this alone. Just, just know I love you, more than anything I’ve ever shown.”
A tear slipped from his eye, his pretty lips quirking up, his fingers gripping your chin gently. Criston rasped, “I love you bunny. Never had anything keep me so…in tune with it. You- you shook me out of that animalistic fugue.”
“I’ll do it every night if need be,” you promised, kissing his cheek, hands seeking his.
Criston looked to the side, jaw and brows working as they did when he was nervous or stressed. Finally, he looked up at you, eyes firm again.
“Why don’t we stay lost a bit longer, I’ll smell out Ferris and you take your ass home. I should’ve eaten him for leaving you like this, a feast for a beast.” He picked you up, heading back towards the hot springs.
End.
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hereforreadandwrite · 1 year ago
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Abandoned Part 2
Masterlist
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Your mother always knew what was best for you.
She always saw through the intentions of others, warning you against people who were malicious or who simply wanted to take advantage of you, and she encouraged you to go towards those she liked. When you told him about Kratos and he came to give you your wedding ring. Your mother disapproved of him as soon as he walked through the door, but you were too in love to actually listen.
Your mother knew better, you wish you would have listened to her and stayed away, but no. You listened to your heart and went with Kratos, becoming his "wife."
Why did you think he loved you?
“One way or another, something is going to go wrong,” she said. "He's only here because you're young and he's lonely. As soon as he finds a woman he's interested in, he won't stay. All he does is lie and fool you 'illusion. A man like him has an ego. You deserve much more (Y/N)."
Your mother tried to protect you from this pain, but you didn't listen to her. You were so happy that a man like Kratos was interested in you.
You left your mother.
You left your loving home for a man who didn't care about you.
Now you stood in front of your childhood home. You were terrified of facing your mother. You were sure and certain that she wouldn't want you anymore, especially when you told her that you were pregnant. Speki and Svanna moaned beside you, licking your hands. You smile at the wolves, finally gathering your courage to go and knock on the door. When the door opened, your courage melted like snow in the sun. Your mother looked at you in surprise. You jabbered incomprehensible words. To your surprise, your mother hugged you.
“I missed you so much,” she said, hugging you.
You cried with all the tears in your body, of relief, of anger, of sorrow. It was probably the hormones that were causing you to have this whirlwind of emotions, but you were happy to be back home.
Your mother allowed you and the two she-wolves to go inside. You explained to her what had happened and why you were back home. Your mother had listened to you patiently without interrupting you or judging you. When you told her about your pregnancy, she hugged you, reassuring you, saying that she would do everything to help you with your child.
A weight lifted from your shoulders.
You finally felt welcome and loved.
Your mother also loved Speki and Svanna.
She has always loved animals.
Your pregnancy was going wonderfully. Your belly grew bigger day after day. Six moons had just passed and in all that time, Kratos never came. You would have thought he would have come, at least to pick up Speki and Svanna, but no. He probably never bothered to look for you. Had he even returned? It wouldn't surprise you if that wasn't the case.
Even during Ragnarok, Kratos was always out of the house.
At first, you understood that he had to train Atreus and hunt. There were times when you were alone for days at a time, taking care of Fenri when he was sick. When Kratos came home, he barely spoke to you. He preferred to take care of his weapons and other tasks. Whenever you tried to approach him, he pushed you away.
The only reasons that kept you going were Mimir and Atreus. The two had welcomed you into the home with open arms. Then Atreus left. Mimir was still with Kratos.
You have always been alone.
“I’m sorry mother,” you say, stroking your belly.
“Why are you apologizing?” your mother asked, looking at you perplexed.
"Because... I didn't listen to you... and I left with this man who never cared about me. I was stupid."
"Child. You're not stupid," she said, leaving her work to come and sit next to you. "You were in love. How could I blame you for that? I also had this bad judgment when I fell in love with the man I dreamed of spending the rest of my life with."
“Were you in love before you met father?”
"Yes, I found this man kind and caring. But... he loved me just for my beauty. He didn't hesitate to dump me when he found a more beautiful woman. Then I met your father. He helped me. He consoled me and I agreed to marry him. And before he died, he gave me the greatest gift. You."
You would never have believed your mother had the same experience. That was why he was so harsh towards Kratos. You hugged your mother, crying your eyes out. Your mother always knew what was best for you.
Why did you think Kratos loved you?
He who said he hated the Gods. He was worse than Odin.
Three new moons passed, the baby was ready to come into the world. The day he was born had become the longest day you had to live. The pain that tore through your stomach was horrible. You screamed, cried, begged your mother for this pain to finally stop. Your mother helped you as best she could, telling you to take deep breaths and push. The pain will stop when the baby is out. Speki and Svanna squealed as they heard you scream in pure pain.
Your mother couldn't help but be worried. The birth was long. Too long even. The baby should already be out. But it wasn't just that. You were bleeding profusely. She tried to stop the bleeding, without success. It didn't bode well. After one last painful push, your child finally came out of your body, finally coming into the world. Her tears invaded the little cabin. Strangely, your mother was silent, staring at the horrified child.
"How...what is that?"
"Mother... my baby..."
Your mother showed you your child. You understood why she was so horrified when she saw the baby, her left side was perfectly formed, but her right side was devoid of skin, revealing her muscles and bones as black as darkness.
“It’s a girl,” you said under your breath.
“(Y/N)…”
“She’s perfect,” you said, sobbing and hugging your daughter to your chest. “My daugther... you are the best thing that ever happened to me!!”
Your mother looked at you without knowing what to think about this situation. This child should be dead. It was impossible for her to survive with such a deformation. She was brought out of her thoughts by feeling a warm liquid spilling onto her knees. Her gaze rested on the bed. The furs were soaked with your blood. The bleeding had become more severe. Your mother tried to stop the bleeding as best she could, but her attempts were in vain.
“(Y/N)!”
Your mother's throat tightened as she noticed that you had just taken your last breath, holding your daughter to your chest.
“No…,” she whispered, shaking you. "(Y/N)! No! Daugther! Open your eyes!"
From outside the cabin, anyone could hear Speki, Svanna, the baby and your mother crying over your death.
It was only at sunrise that your mother had the courage to prepare your pyre. She wrapped the baby in thick furs, placing her granddaughter in a basket. She placed the basket on the table as she went outside to take from her supply of logs. You were never going to be able to see your child grow up, become a woman. You were never going to be able to know all his joys and sorrows. You should never have left first. You should never have died this way. You didn't have time to give your daughter a name. She was going to have to decide for you. It wasn't her role to name your daughter and raise her.
The sun was now high in the sky when your mother placed your body on your pyre and set it on fire. She will be your daughter in her arms, watching your body turn to ash.
How could things have gotten so bad for you?
Why were the Gods so cruel to you?
But now you could finally be at peace. Your mother looked intently at your daughter, her granddaughter.
Neither alive nor dead.
Your mother didn't know how that was possible, but the facts were before her. The night had passed and the child was perfectly well. She slept peacefully in her arms.
"We need to find a name for you, little one. What do you think of Hel? This name suits you perfectly."
Your mother went back inside her house. The Gods have truly been cruel to you. Your mother knew she couldn't allow your daughter to see the outside world. Your mother placed Hel in her basket to close the windows and the front door. Your mother knew she had to hide her granddaughter from the outside world. Other mortals were not going to welcome a different child with open arms.
Your mother didn't know how to protect you as she wanted to do.
She was going to protect Hel as best she could.
tag: @pookiesnatcher
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thehistoriangirl · 11 months ago
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Hey bestieee can I get uhhhhh.......what u think vik would like to get as a present for the holidays and what he would give reader in return
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Hi bestie! Of course ^^ here is it, hope you like it <3
Loving Gifts
Viktor x Fem!(Artist!)Reader----1.2K----SFW
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Tags: Established Relationship | Domestic Fluff | Slightly Suggestive at the end |
A dry, cold winter air flowed across the wide boulevards in the Commercial District, with Viktor adjusting the cozy red blanket around his neck to cover up his mouth and nose. With the sky rapidly tinted orange, he saw the Christmas lightning starting to turn on in each of the buildings around him.
He leaned against a wall, consulting the list tucked inside his pocket. 
-Dress (?)
-Custom jewelry  -> next anniversary. 
-Set of pastels (?)
Viktor had been cracking his brain to think about a gift for you ever since the coming of autumn. Last year, he had crafted you a lamp in the shape of a cherry tree, the one that was next to your drawing table, sending pink and golden hues around your atelier like in a perpetual dusk. 
This year, however, he had no idea what to give you, which made him feel quite anxious every time he entered a store, watching around the shelves to see if something caught his attention, like a call, only to end up with empty hands and another blow of gelid wind as he walked toward other business. 
What if he gave you something you didn’t like? He could imagine your eyes dropping slightly and the tense smile expanding your lips. For all the time you’d been together, Viktor had acquired the ability to read you like his favorite book.
He already had a little custom music box half-finished in his lab, kept inside the only drawer that held a key so you wouldn’t find it those times you liked to help him clean his workstation, waiting for Viktor to finish his job for the day. He snuck inside the Music Faculty to ask for a recording of the song that got you both together at the Academy Anniversary Foundation Gala two years ago when he gathered his courage to ask you for a dance.
Viktor smiled at the memory, the characteristic smell of oil and wood familiar as he entered the arts and crafts store you frequent, many of those visits with his arm interlocked in yours. 
The saleswoman smiled at him. “Hello, Sir, what can I help you with?” she said. “Is the Ma'am sick?”
“Ah—” he hung his lips ajar at the name ‘Ma’am’, because you two weren’t married, though you never corrected her, so, why would he? “No. I came here for her… eh, her Christmas gift.”
“Oh, of course!” She responded with a wide beam; her brown eyes squinted. “Do you have something in mind?”
Viktor looked around the clean and organized store, with wooden pencils and brushes, lines of canvas shown behind the counter, and a thousand rainbows shown in sets of crayons, pencils, pastels, and oil paintings.
“Yes. One of your set of pastels, please.” Viktor tapped his fingers along the handle of his cane, looking at the people walking hand by hand passing by him. He sighed, consulting his pocket watch. It was strange the way he’d grown to miss you, just comparable to how he yearned to keep inventing, to keep creating.
“Can you wrap it with newspaper?” he added. “She’s rather… curious, you see.” If you saw a box wrapped in gift paper, there was no doubt you’d start to peek. He thought you were just as mischievous as a cat. And just as adorable. 
“Of course, Sir.” For some minutes, the empty store filled with the sound of paper folding and tape being cut. “Here you have it. Careful, there. It’s heavier than it looks.”
“Thank you.” Viktor put the gift under his free arm, walking out of the store once he had paid.
The air hit even colder now that he had imagined how warm your embrace would be once he arrived home.
“But first,” he mumbled to himself, accommodating his beret and scarf before restarting his walk up the hill. “Let’s hide this in the lab.”
*~*~*~*
You put the photograph aside after watching it for the thousandth time, gently sliding it inside a book as you continue to paint the last details of Eve’s dress, the patches of clothes sewn into the fabric twin to the ones in little Viktor’s pants.
He looked so happy, standing between his parents with pride—you hoped you could mimic the childish delight on his face with your painting. Even if you weren’t good at restoring photos, why shouldn’t you replicate the image in your personal style?
Viktor had shown you the photo after some months of dating, getting it out of his notebook with its edges winkled and the paper thin for being held so much; the brown surface dotted with multiple stains. And yet, love kept emanating from it.
Now, Viktor would have the memory on a bigger canvas he could hang whenever he wished. You hoped he liked the gift, though it’ll be quite obvious wrapped under the tree once the painting was ready—you wished to give him only the best, just as he did with you. 
The brush slid against the canvas, wrist swaying to paint the thin decorative lines of the wallpaper inside his childhood home, the edge of a cold hearth behind the family tree, with Viktor sitting on a chair in the middle of his parents, the familiar toy boat in his lap. 
A smile grazed your face, looking at the round face of the small boy, amber eyes shining even in the now dim photograph. You were blessed with that gaze, too, every time he talked about his new projects and ideas, with the lamp on the nightstand giving his eyes a shine that could rival the stars.
Even when Viktor looked at you, a smile so big you could his adorable tooth gap.
You heard the entrance door creak open, settling your brush down in a vase with water.
“Moje láska, I’m home,” Viktor said, his voice muffled through the closed door of your studio. “Where are you, hmm?”
“I’m going!” You almost interrupted him, carrying the canvas toward the far end of the room, facing the closed window. 
Viktor was expecting you in the hallway, an eyebrow raised upon seeing your hands, and fingers stained with paint.
“Working still, my muse?” he muttered playfully, his hands intertwined with yours as he pulled you against him to give you a kiss on the forehead, then another on the cheek, to finally grace your lips with his own. 
You smiled, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to give him another, longer, kiss. 
“Yes, handsome,” you teased, poking his cheek that was starting to dust with a pink shade. 
“Should I let you work, then?” He hummed, his hands on your hips. “Wouldn’t like to delay your duties and get you in trouble.”
“Not at all. I only have to let the paint dry to start with the new layer tomorrow.” Tugging his hand, you pried away from the studio, so Viktor couldn’t ask to see the painting and spoil the surprise. “Come on, let’s have dinner together.”
Viktor chuckled, his thumb smudging a droplet of paint across the reverse of your palm. “Maybe I should bathe you first,” he said, eyes twinkling. “You’re always a masterpiece but today… eh, you have more paint on you.”
You laughed, one of your hands over Viktor’s. “Naughty.” Leaning closer to him, you pretended to smell him, scrunching your nose in a dramatic gesture. “You’re also very stinky.”
“That didn’t stop you from kissing me, did it?” His thumb circled your hip, fingers gently kneading the skin. “Not that I’m complaining, of course.”
“Never,” you giggled.
“Come on, my stinky dove,” Viktor teased, nuzzling his face against your hair. “Let’s draw a bath in the bathtub. I'm quite cold, so perhaps you could warm me up, yes?”
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roseghoul26 · 6 months ago
Text
Chapter 10: But It's Been Promised To Another
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Synopsis: A fic based off the song “ivy” by Taylor Swift. After a startling introduction to the man, Arthur Morgan became the most important part of your life. Married at a young age to an older, wealthy man to help your family, you were trapped in a loveless marriage, your only sense of escape with the rugged cowboy. Will you be able to keep your affair hidden, or will your husband find out, and destroy the last thing that made you happy? Tags: Fluff, Angst, Smut, Strangers To Lovers, Infidelity, Fem!Reader, She/Her Pronouns Used For Reader, Period Typical Misogyny, Emotional Manipulative Relationship (not with Arthur), Mostly Follows Timeline of Game, High Honor Arthur Morgan, Not Beta Read, Slow Burn, First Kiss, Arthur Is Bad At Emotions, Confessions, First Time Together, Cunnilingus, Missionary, Doggy Style, Handjobs, Mirrors, Party, Semi-Public Sex, Quickies, Unsafe Sex, Tags Updated Per Chapter Author's Note: for once i've got nothing to say. hope you enjoy! Taglist: @lokiofasgard12 @ultraporcelainpig @that-one-beannnn @morethantheycansay@nn-hh192 @photo1030 @just-pure-trash @julialoopeezz Chapter List
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For the first time during your entire marriage, you were excited for Hans to return home. 
Not because you wanted to see him but because it meant that you were one step closer to seeing Arthur at the party. Your back ached from sleeping on the couch as you reached for the now-dry bedding on the line, a hole in your heart that grew each time Arthur left. 
As you walked back into the house with an armful of laundry, you heard the unmistakable noise of wheels rolling over the dirt path. Excitement bubbled through you, and you ran inside and up the stairs. You got to work quickly, refitting the bed with its sheets, pretending to act surprised when you heard Hans knock lightly at the bedroom door.
Spinning around, you were nearly caught off guard by how disheveled he looked, as if he had run his hands through his hair countless times on the ride home. You don’t think you’d ever seen him like this, and the fake smile you’d plastered on fell. “Hans?” You asked cautiously, honestly a bit concerned. “Everything alright?”
His mouth formed the words, but no noise came out. Instead, he just sighed, an even faker smile than yours appearing beneath his beard. “I’m fine,” was all he said before backing up, no doubt retreating to his office. “Just… work. Nothing you need to bother yourself with.”
“But-” You didn’t even get a word out before he disappeared from the doorway. You heard the sound of keys rattling as he pulled them out of his jacket pocket, and you turned back to your work. 
A thought flashed in your mind, making you halt, listening intently for your husband. You remember that the office was unlocked, having no way to lock it after you and Arthur’s exploration. And when you heard the keys stop jingling, you knew he noticed it, too. He always locked his office, even after two years together. 
You waited with bated breath, expecting to hear heavy footsteps return to the bedroom. Your relief was immeasurable when he just continued into the office, hearing the door click as it shut instead. You were in the clear for now. 
During the rest of the time in the bedroom, you expected Hans to appear at any second, angrily shouting at you. But as the minutes crawled by and you were only met with the sounds of fabric rustling, you relaxed.
Eventually, the bed was back to its original shape, and you left the room, passing Hans’ office as you headed downstairs. Much to your pleasure, the rest of the day was spent in solitude, but Hans did finally leave his office for dinner.
You had no idea how to approach asking him about the party, never having asked him before. You stared holes into your plate until you gathered enough courage to speak. “Are we going to Mr. Bronte’s party tomorrow?”
Hans stopped mid-bite, taken aback by your question. “I know you just got home,” you stammered, “but I would like to go. If that’s alright?” 
When a minute passed with just silence, you mentally chastised yourself. But you couldn’t hide the smile on your face when he finally spoke. “It wouldn’t be a bad idea to go,” he murmured. “Is it tomorrow?”
“I know it’s a quick turnaround-”
“We’re going.” He cut you off. “There’s some people I need to talk to, anyway.”
You hoped you didn’t look too relieved. “Thank you.”
He merely waved your words off, going straight back to his food. 
The following twenty-four hours went by incredibly slowly, making you fidgety. But eventually, night came around, and you eagerly got dressed. The marks on your body were still very evident, so you went with a high-neck party dress, a dusty blush color, with skirts that ended at your ankles. Slipping on matching gloves and shoes, you decided to keep your hair down in case the dress didn’t cover everything. 
The carriage ride there was, as always, awkward and tense. You fidgeted with your silk gloves, having to expel your excitement somehow. You had no idea if Arthur was actually going to be here tonight, but you certainly hoped. 
After a tortuous thirty minutes, the carriage finally halted in front of a grand house on the outskirts of Saint Denis, a home you’d come to know quite well over the past two years. You flashed a practiced smile to the gentleman who opened the carriage door, taking his hand as he helped you out. Hans got out on the other side, meeting you as you stood at the entrance, saying a small thank-you to the man who helped you.
After being asked for any weapons, Hans extended an arm to you, which you took, linking your arms together. He nodded to the servants before walking up the stairs, you by his side. Even you had to admit that the two of you looked like the definition of high-class, regal even. With your well-crafted dress and his well-fitted tuxedo, the two of you certainly made a sight. If you weren’t already so well-known, you were confident you’d be the talk of the town now if the various heads that turned towards you as you entered the party told you anything. 
Taking a deep breath, you calmed your racing heart and pulled up the mask you’d created over the past two years. The two of you had barely gotten down the stairs of the porch before people were talking to you. Well, to Hans, more specifically. They treated you like an accessory, and you couldn’t be more glad now. You had no desire to talk to these people with their fake niceties and shallow words. You only wanted to speak to one person right now, and you scanned the crowd for his rugged face. 
You prayed that you didn’t look too disappointed when your search bore no results and focused your attention on the conversation before you. You merely caught snip-its, something about the tobacco fields of the Braithwaites. You didn’t really care, though, so you let yourself zone out.
The first hour of the party went similarly, accompanying Hans as he talked to other men. Occasionally, someone would extend a compliment your way, and you’d bat your lashes and thank them, but that would be it. They wouldn’t ask about your opinion on the matter they were discussing or if you had any advice or comments. Additionally, not one person asked you how you were doing, so you drowned your loneliness in glasses of very delicious champagne. 
And when this hour went by, and you didn’t see Arthur, or any of the Van Der Linde gang for that matter, you were kicking yourself for being so eager to go to the party. It was exhausting, participating in an environment that treated you like you didn’t exist, a mere accessory for your husband.
Your disappointment ceased to exist, though, when a familiar silver-haired man passed you, shooting you a double-take as he did. A small smile graced his lips, and he nodded politely at you, which you returned. A larger, brown-haired man accompanied him and nodded to you as well. Hans was too caught up in his current conversation to notice, and after you leaned and whispered that you would be right back, you untangled your arm from his and made your way to the duo.
“Enjoying the party, Mrs. Kerrigan?” You heard Hosea ask, bowing his head slightly. 
“With the current company, yes,” you chuckled. “How are you, Hosea?”
“Irritated because I have to spend my night with these buffoons,” he muttered so only you could hear. “No offense to you, miss.”
“None taken. And you, Bill? Are you well?”
If he was surprised you remembered who he was, he didn’t show. “Can’t say I disagree with Hosea.”
“Me neither. If I’ve gotta be in one more conversation where people act like I don’t exist, I’m gonna lose it,” you sighed. “But that’s a far more difficult issue to resolve. What brings you to party tonight, gentlemen?”
At this point, Bill excused himself from the conversation, nodding politely before entering the crowd. “Dutch wants us to scope out some jobs while getting into the pocket of Angelo Bronte.”
“You’ve got quite the task before you, then.” Hosea shook his head. “I take it you don’t like it?”
“Nothing good comes from getting close to authority. You don’t need me to tell you that. From what I’ve heard, you know much about our recent relationships with certain figures.” An image of Leigh Gray flashed in your mind, and you nodded. 
“But that’s enough talk like that for tonight. You don’t have to trouble yourself with our matters, but we do appreciate it. Besides, there’s been a certain someone who’s been looking for you since the moment we arrived.” Hosea’s eyes flicked to something above and behind you with a knowing expression.
Containing your eagerness, you turned, following the direction of his gaze. You couldn’t help your grin as your gaze landed on the porch. Standing by each other, deep in conversation, was Dutch and Bronte, cigars dangling from their lips as they spoke. And beside them, an almost outsider in the conversation, much like you’d been the entire night, was Arthur Morgan.
His attention was very clearly far from the conversation, as his blue eyes were firmly planted on you, and even from this distance, you could see his smile, slightly obscured by a cigar. He looked even better than you imagined in a tux, black material clinging to his broad shoulders and tapered waist. Before you began to stare, you tore your gaze away, ignoring the heat on your cheeks.
“How’re things with my husband,” you muttered, leaning into Hosea so only he could hear your words. 
“We’ve been meaning to talk to him,” Hosea admitted.
“Well, let me introduce you.” Straightening, you cast one final glance at Arthur as you wove between the crowds, Hosea hot on your heels. Arthur leaned over to murmur something to Dutch, but his eyes still never left you, even as Hosea gestured to him. 
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’d bewitched him,” Hosea teased, making you laugh. 
“It certainly does feel that way, doesn’t it?” You laughed back, sobering when you saw Hans out of the corner of your eye. He was still deep in conversation, and you shot Hosea an apologetic look as you returned to your spot on Hans’ arm. You now had your back to Arthur, but you could still feel his gaze.
Hans only talked for a few moments before his acquaintances dispersed. “Dear, there’s someone I’d like you to meet,” you murmured, angling your head to Hosea. Like a flipped switch, Hosea dropped the casual attitude he’d had with you and had switched to one of pure professionalism and suaveness. You knew he had a silver tongue, but it was astounding to see it in action. 
“Hosea Matthews, how do you do, sir?” Hosea extended a hand, which your husband shook eagerly. 
“A pleasure, Mr. Matthews. The name’s Hans Kerrigan and it appears you’ve already met my wife,” he glanced down at you momentarily. 
You shot Hosea a tight-lipped smile, and you shook his hand as well. Hosea went straight into business, talking about how he was the head of some new security agency in New Austin, something you knew damn well didn’t exist. But Hans was falling into his trap, which made you nearly laugh. Hans seemed almost to light up when Hosea mentioned security, so you knew the first part of their plan had succeeded. So that’s why he had come home looking so stressed: they had wreaked havoc on his business. 
The two men continued to talk for a long while, and you fought the urge to look behind you, knowing once you did, you wouldn’t be able to look away. Hosea’s eyes flicked behind you and Hans before raising his brows at you with a ghost of a smirk. “Here, let me introduce you to two of my compatriots.”
You bit your lips to stop a smile as Dutch and Arthur slid in beside Hosea. Recognition flashed across Hans’ features as he looked at the two new men. “I believe we’ve already had the pleasure. You’re the deputies from Rhodes, right?”
Dutch shot you a look, and you mouthed he doesn’t know back, and your words relieved the black-haired man. “That’s right, Mr. Kerrigan.”
“Good evening, Mr. Van Der Linde,” you greeted him warmly as Hans shook his hand before turning to Arthur. God, keeping your composure was so much more challenging than you thought it would be as you finally looked at him. There he was, the man who had stolen your heart, who had seen you at your most vulnerable, and you had to act like you didn’t want to jump into his arms right there. “It’s Mr. Marston, right?”
Hosea coughed, a poorly hidden chuckle, and even Dutch had to look away before he burst into a laugh. Biting your cheek, you watched Arthur almost look offended, shaking his head slightly. “It’s Morgan, ma’am,” he muttered, extending a hand to you. 
“My sincerest apologies, Mr. Morgan,” you gasped while shaking his hand. Barely contained desire flashed across his face as his hand encompassed yours, a hefty sigh moving his chest. You pulled away before the handshake became too long, your hand returning to rest by your side. Arthur simply nodded, stepping back until he was shoulder-to-shoulder with Hosea, letting the conversation continue. 
As the four men spoke, you found yourself unable to resist the urge any longer, and you let your eyes wander to him. Every time you did, his attention would focus on you, even if he was in the middle of talking. Hans was none the wiser, chatting with the men as if they were long-lost friends. 
You found yourself bored, and some part of you wanted to see how far you could push Arthur in public. It started subtly, letting your eyes trail over his body shamelessly, unseen by the other conversation members. Arthur caught it, though, and every time you did it, you watched his body stiffen.
It grew less subtle, running your hands along your neck, both of you knowing what lay beneath the cloth covering it. A slight wince of pain left you as you rubbed a particularly sore spot, and Arthur quickly hid his balled-up hands behind his back, rocking on his heels slowly. 
Grabbing a flute of champagne, you took a sip, letting out a content noise as the bubbly drink hit your mouth. When you pulled the glass down, a droplet spilled over the edge, and it began to run down the side of the glass. Without thinking, you ran your tongue along the glass, collecting the droplet before it hit your hand. It had been a complete accident, but even so, it finally broke Arthur. 
Arthur muttered something to Hosea before breaking away from the group, an unspoken command in his eyes as he walked away. As he passed, you could tell he wanted to reach out and touch you, but he refrained. Subtle glancing over your shoulder, you watched Arthur climb the porch stairs, disappearing into Bronte’s house.
You waited a few moments before excusing yourself and taking a different path to the house, discarding the glass along the way. It was easy to slip away, to be unnoticed by the crowds, and sneak along the high hedge bushes; eventually, you made your way inside. It was staggeringly quieter in the house, the party chatter now silenced, and all you could hear was the click of your heels and quickened breaths. 
You luckily met with no servants as you glanced around, trying to catch a glimpse of where Arthur went. Walking further in, you ended up on one of the hallways, doors lining each side. You didn’t pay them much mind, but you wished you did when you felt yourself dragged into one, a large hand grasping your wrist. 
Your cry of alarm was muffled by a palm over your mouth, and you nearly bit down until you heard Arthur's drawl. Pressed up against your back, you felt him lean down to your ear, making you shiver. “Were you noticed?” He asked, his voice quiet. 
Unable to speak still, you shook your head. “Good,” he muttered before he spun you around to face him. Lips replaced his palm, the force of the kiss nearly baking you up against the door. Your gloved hands tangled in his hair, meeting the desperation of the kiss, pulling him as close as you could to his body. 
“God, I need ya,” you heard him groan.
“You’ve got me, Arthur.”
“We’ve gotta be quick, darlin’.” You felt his hands run down your body, grasping the backs of your thighs. It took little urging from you to wrap your legs around his body, and he carried you further into the room. You had no idea what kind of room you were in, as the curtains had been drawn shut, leaving the room in almost complete darkness. But dust tickled your nose, and you knew you probably wouldn’t expect anyone to come in soon. 
Still, Arthur was able to navigate the room with ease, and you felt him ease you back down onto a wooden surface. Papers pressed against your back, and you realized you were in an office of sorts, and Arthur had just laid you down on a desk. “D’you know how hard it’s been to keep my eyes off you tonight?” Arthur asked, making you laugh softly. 
“I didn’t think you were tryin’,” you joked. 
“It’s hard to when I just wanna rip this dress off of ya.” Hands braced on either side of your head, and even though you couldn’t see, you knew his face was inches from yours. “And then you decide to tease me. It took everythin’ in me not to take ya right there,” his voice had turned into a growl.
“Arthur-”
“Roll over.” His weight left your body, and you heard the unmistakable sound of his belt buckle as he undid it. Your head spun as excitement and arousal made your body buzz, and you were almost grateful for the dark so that Arthur couldn’t see how eagerly you complied. 
Your feet were barely on the ground as you rested your upper body on the desk, your forearms holding you up. Your breath caught when you felt the skirt of your dress lift, the material ticking your skin as it brushed against it. Arthur had the skirt in a fist at your hip, his other hand trailing over your ass, running his fingers along the edge of your undergarments. “You’ve gotta look so beautiful, bent over like this,” he whispered in the dark. 
“We’ll just have to do it again.”
“Oh, gladly.”
Cold air hit your center as Arthur tugged the garment down, letting it pool at your ankles. You knew neither had time to build things up, but you were still surprised when you felt him press into you. You must’ve made some noise as he eased in, as one of his hands wrapped around to cover your mouth. 
“Gotta be quiet, darlin’,” he whispered, a slight strain in his voice. 
You nodded, stifling your noises as best you could. You were thankful that Arthur kept his hand over your mouth, as you doubted you’d be able to continue to stifle them for long. 
When Arthur’s hips became flush with yours, you both sighed softly, the stretch of him a familiar ache. He leaned forward, and you felt the lightest kiss placed between your clothed shoulders. That was all the warning you got before he was setting a viscous pace, the buckle of his belt hitting your skin with every snap of his hips. Muffled noises spilled from behind Arthur’s hand, a mix of praises and moans and his name. 
You were thankful that the desk he currently had you bent over was sturdy, the soft groan of wood instead of loud creaks, and it remained in its place as he moved. Even through the silk gloves, your nails dug into the skin of your palms as you tried and failed to make as little noise as possible. It proved to be an impossible task with how desperately he was fucking you, hitting all the right spots inside of you. You could do nothing but let your eyes flutter close as pleasure caressed your body, and you could feel your eventual release begin to grow. 
The sound of laughter outside made your eyes shoot open, and in a moment of panic, you tried to get up. Arthur was having none of it, and he used his body weight to keep you pinned to the desk. “Now ya really gotta be quiet,” his voice came out breathy, unfaltering in his movements. “Unless ya want everyone to see you like this.”
You’re not sure why you reacted the way you did, but the idea made you shudder, and Arthur felt it in more ways than one. “Oh, you’d like that?” He asked, a hint of disbelief in his words. Your cheeks burned, shame and embarrassment and excitement making your body warm. “You want everyone to see the respectable Mrs. Kerrigan bent over a desk, fallin’ apart just for me?” You barely heard his words, but you found yourself nodding anyway. “Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but that’s a sight only I get to see.”
Current circumstances notwithstanding, you would’ve commented that he couldn’t see you right now. But your comment faded in your mind as soon as it came, and you just sighed against his palm. 
Thankfully, the sound of laughter and voices receded, and in the back of your mind, you felt relief. But you hardly recognized it, especially when you felt his hand sneak between your thighs and begin to rub at your clit. The movement of his fingers, just like his hips, was quick and hurried, and you found yourself rapidly approaching your release. 
Praises spilled from his lips and into your ear, which was all you needed to reach your end. Your knees buckled as you came, your entire body being held up by the desk as pleasure washed over you. Your head spun, both from your release and the lack of oxygen, and Arthur seemed to realize this as you felt him pull his hand away. As quietly as you could, you sucked in air as Arthur chased his own release, fingers digging into his hips. 
Even though you were drunk on lust, you knew the implications of your following words as you uttered them. “Inside, Arthur,” you gasped, voice scratchy. His pace faltered, and you knew that he heard you. “I wanna feel you for the rest of the night.”
“Oh, fuck…” You felt his head rest between your shoulders, and you felt his warm breath through the material of your dress. You didn’t have to see him to know he was biting down harshly on his lip to keep himself quiet, but a small groan did leave him as he came. Warmth spread through your lower body, making you gasp quietly. 
He took a few moments to catch his breath before easing off and out of you. You had no idea where he went, so you jumped when you felt his fingers brushing up your legs, securing your undergarments back on your body. He rubbed your back as he brought your skirt back down, almost like he was thanking you. 
Using the desk for support, you turned around, making a small noise when you felt his release spill from you. Hands grasped your waist, and you were being tugged into a surprisingly gentle kiss from Arthur. Your arms went around his neck, holding him close. 
“I missed you,” you heard him murmur when he pulled away, head resting against yours.
“I missed you too.” It felt too simple of a response to encompass just how deeply you did miss him, but it would have to do. 
“You look beautiful tonight.” You smiled at the sincerity in his voice.
“You clean up well yourself, Mr. Morgan.”
“I thought it was Mr. Marston.” He still sounded irked by your comment, which made you laugh. 
“You have to admit, it was kind of funny.”
“Dutch and Hosea certainly seemed to think so.”
You hummed. “They seemed to be goin’ a good job buttering up Hans.”
He scoffed. “They didn’t have to try that hard. He’s almost a bit too eager.”
“D’you think he knows?”
“Doubt it. He’s desperate, and we just offered him the perfect solution.”
“I’m glad everything’s working out, then.”
“We’ve got some good scores lined up, too. We’re plannin’ on hittin’ the bank in town soon,” you fought back the dread that made you feel, “which should hopefully give us enough money to get the law off us and to… to start a new life.” Arthur sighed, and he seemed nervous. “Darlin’, would-”
A loud booming sound rocked the room, making you both jump apart. Bright flashes of color poured in from between the curtains, and you laughed in relief. “Fireworks,” you murmured, a bit amazed by the vibrant colors.
The flashes of light allowed you to see Arthur a bit, and he deflated a bit. “We should probably get back to the party.”
You frowned. “Already?”
“As much as I’d like to spend the rest of the night here, every minute of you bein’ gone raises suspicion.”
You hated how right he was. “Fine,” you sighed, your frown deepening when Arthur stepped away, your hands falling to your sides. But it seemed that he, too, couldn’t be away for long because you felt him grab one of your hands as he led you to the door, thumb tracing mindless patterns into your skin. Loud booms continued to rattle the building, and as you stepped outside, you heard the excitement from the crowds. 
When Arthur opened it, the beam of light that hit your eyes made you squint, and you watched as he made sure the hallway was clear before leading you out. He dropped your hand, not before pressing a kiss to the back of it, and he turned to face you. You had to bite back a laugh when you saw the disarray his hair was in, and you ushered him to bend down. Your gloves just created static, and fixing it took more effort than it should have. His eyes never left yours as you worked, a soft smile tugging his lips, which you returned. 
“There you go,” you murmured. “Perfect, as always.”
A light dusting of pink appeared on his cheeks as he stood upright. “Thank you, darlin’.”
“How do I look?”
Blue eyes roamed your body, an almost thoughtful expression on his face. “Words can’t do it justice, darlin’.” That certainly wasn’t what you asked, but you weren’t complaining. Not when he stared at you like you were Venus in the flesh, and you ducked your head. “But you look… put together.”
You certainly didn’t feel put together, but you trusted Arthur’s word. “You were sayin’ somethin’ earlier, before the fireworks.”
“It ain’t important,” Arthur quickly deflected, and you frowned, not liking that he was keeping something from you. “But that reminds me…” You watched Arthur reach inside his jacket, pulling out a small envelope. “A letter arrived for ya yesterday.”
“Is… is it from-”
“It is.” A fond smile appeared on his face at the sheer delight you radiated, and you took the letter he presented to you with shaky hands. Your name was written across the front in your mother's handwriting, and you chuckled in disbelief. 
You caught Arthur off guard when you nearly tackled him in a hug, forcing him to stumble back a few steps. Cautiously, like he was doing something he wasn’t supposed to, you felt his hand settle on your back, the other holding the back of your head, cradling you to his body. “Thank you, Arthur,” you murmured, your words muffled by his suit jacket. Taking a deep breath, you smelled tobacco and gunpowder. It seemed no amount of dolling up could change that. 
“You don’t gotta thank me.”
You ignored him. “I owe you for this.”
Footsteps echoed across the room, forcing you two to pull apart. Even though every part of you screamed to rip the letter open, you knew you weren’t in the suitable space to do it. Carefully, you folded the letter, which was already relatively small, to begin with, and you tucked it into the palm of your glove, hidden away for now. “I’ll read it when I get home.”
There was a respectable amount of space between your bodies now, and you hated it. You both tensed as the footsteps grew closer, and you both flashed polite smiles to the guests who passed. They didn’t seem to recognize you, and you breathed a sigh of relief. “We… we should probably head back to the party.”
Arthur hesitantly nodded. “I’ve got a few things I need to take care of here. I’ll meet ya out there.”
“Up to no good, are we?” 
His responding smirk said all you needed to know. “Go before someone comes lookin’.” Shaking your head lightly, you shot him one last smile before walking past him. You weren’t surprised when you felt him grab your hand, rolling your eyes affectionately. 
“Arthur…” Your words were cut off when he brought your hand up to his lips, the pure adoration in his eyes making you gasp. When he placed three kisses in rapid succession on your knuckles, it took every ounce of willpower not to drag him back into that room. You both knew what he meant by those three kisses, something he had yet to say. But it was a start. 
Your heart hammered in your chest as he dropped your hand and took a few steps back, creating a sense of finality in the conversation. “I’ll see ya out there, darlin’.”
“You better,” you muttered before backing up, not wanting to turn away from him just yet. But as you turned out of the hallway, you lost sight of him, so you faced forward. Walking back to the party alone, you blushed when you felt the remnants of him between your legs, reminding you of what had just transpired.
No one looked as you descended the porch stairs, everyone too distracted by the fireworks show. You were easily able to sneak back to your spot next to Hans, who, too, was also transfixed by the show. He merely nodded your way when you linked your arms, apparently not even fazed by your disappearance. 
Hosea and Dutch were still standing by Hans; their backs turned as they watched the show. You watched as the older man leaned into the other, whispering something to him. You could not distinguish what he said, but Dutch laughed, clapping Hosea on the back. 
The show lasted about five more minutes, and even though the sight was incredible, you couldn’t bring yourself to enjoy it. How could you, when Arthur occupied every corner of your mind? How could you, when the letter in your glove burned your skin?
The man plaguing your thoughts returned shortly after, and the disbelieving look that Hosea gave him made you nearly laugh. When Arthur stood by his side, he also leaned into him, and even though you couldn’t see Arthur’s face, you knew he was either blushing or scoffing based on how he shook his head. 
Hans right returned to business mode, wrapping up the discussion with Dutch and Hosea. You’re not sure how much time passed as you spaced out a bit, but suddenly, the two men were wishing you a good night. “Have a good night, gentlemen,” you nodded to them before directing your attention to Arthur. “You as well, Mr. Morgan.”
Your eyes followed the group until they were long gone, fighting the hitch in your breath when Arthur glanced over his shoulder right at the last moment. The longing was evident on his face, but it was broken when Bill made some comment, and you figured that the other three men were laughing at Arthur’s expense. 
You and Hans stayed at the party until late in the night, when exhaustion pulled at your already aching muscles, and your feet felt like lead in your shoes. You nearly sagged in relief when Hans led you to the front of the house, calling for your carriage. 
You almost immediately excused yourself to the bedroom when you got home, nearly running into the attached bathroom and locking the door. The idea of washing up was the last thing on your mind as you tore off your glove, the letter falling into the sink as you did. Some ink from the envelope had stained your skin, but you didn’t care. 
The sound of paper ripping filled the room. Your hands were sweaty as you held the letter up, and tears formed in your eyes as you read the words in your mother’s handwriting. 
My beautiful daughter,
You have no idea how happy it makes my heart to hear from you. The house has become joyless without you in it. How I long to hear your laughter fill it.
I must admit, I never expected to hear from you again, but how glad I am that my expectations were wrong. After you ran off, I thought we’d never hear from you again.  But it seems you’ve done well for yourself. Seeing a different last name was a bit of a shock, but how glad I am that you’ve found someone to marry! All I hope is that they treat you well and that you’re happy. 
I must stop by and see you! Perhaps bring a few of your siblings. Oh, how they have missed you! Do let your husband know to expect a visit from us soon!
Much love,
Irene
Happiness quickly wore off as the contents of the second paragraph hit you. Confusion made your brow furrow, and you grasped the counter edge for stability. She thought you ran off? Did your father not tell anyone about the marriage he had set up for you? Why was he lying to the rest of your family?
But then another realization hit you, one that made the tears in your eyes finally fall. You were going to see your family again. 
97 notes · View notes
mika-no-sekai-blog · 10 months ago
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Word count: 1400+
Warnings: none I think
I originally planned to post this tomorrow, but it's already finished anyway, so..👀
Enjoy 🫣
Part IV | Part VI
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Lucien sighed, adjusting his coat nervously. He was walking towards his former home in Spring Court and gathering courage to enter the manor. It had been a long time since he ran away with Feyre, leaving Tamlin and his destroyed court behind. Even though Lucien didn't agree with all decisions High Lord made, everyone makes mistakes and deserves another chance. Tamlin was his best friend for decades, he saved him and gave him post in his court. He already paid enough for his bad decisions. It was time to repay his kindness.
Lucien halted in front of the massive oak doors, looking around. This place changed so much that it was unrecognisable. Falling plaster, broken doors and windows, damaged staircases, greenery going wild, slowly swallowing the building. Shiver ran down his spine, the guilt making his insides twist. It spoke a lot about the state of his friend too.
He let out a long breath, imagining all possible scenarios from being ignored to childish fight. Lucien snorted amused and shaking his head walked through the entrance doors. Ignoring disaster around, he let his senses to lead him. As soon as he turned around the corner on a hall leading to Tamlin's bedchamber, he spotted his friend.
Tamlin just came out, fastening shirt cuffs. He paid him no attention even though he certainly knew Lucien was there. As expected.
"I'm glad to see you looking so good, my Lord," Lucien bowed with light smirk on his face. "Honestly I was afraid I would find you in worse state."
Tamlin passed around him without any acknowledgement. Lucien followed falling into step behind him.
"I'm worried about you," he tried it again being met with stubborn silence. "Would you mind to at least tell me how have you been all that time?" Nothing. They were almost back in the entrance hall. Lucien narrowed eyes on his back. "She's worried about you too."
"Leave me alone," Tamlin growled without looking back.
"Could we possibly sit down and talk? As before.." Lucien's hand shot up for Tamlin's forearm, lightly touching it to stop him and make him meet his eyes.
"No," Tamlin snapped, easily shaking Lucien's hand off. "There's nothing to talk about. You helped her to turn this place into this," he gestured around, "and ran away without even looking back."
"Tam.." his words failed him probably for the first time in his life. Tamlin was partly right, but Lucien already felt guilty enough even without being reminded of it. "Please."
"Return to your new home."
Lucien gritted his teeth. "It isn't my home," he muttered stopping on the threshold.
Surprisingly Tamlin halted, too, and finally looked at him. Lucien noticed that his friend lost a lot of weight ever since he saw him last time. He looked tired, tensed, pain written in his face. But his eyes.. There was something in them, a small spark of life. Of joy even. When Feyre left him for the first time, his lifeless eyes used to be full of sadness, hurt and torment. This was so different from what Lucien expected. It piqued his curiosity.
Tamlin's mouth moved as if he wanted to say something. "I'm sorry," he mumbled and ran down the marble stairs.
"Where are we going?" Lucien asked, smirk spreading on his face as he caught up with him again.
Tamlin stopped so abruptly that Lucien almost bumped into him and lost another eye on a claw pointed at him. "You go nowhere," he growled lowly.
"Fine," Lucien grinned widely, raising his hands in surrender. "Understood. I'm not invited."
Tamlin narrowed his green eyes on him. Giving him a small nod he started running, turning into his animal form between the steps. In a blink of eye he was gone.
"Very well, my friend. Let's see who is that spark for," Lucien murmured to himself still grinning widely.
Winnowing for short distances to keep up with too fast High Lord, Lucien followed Tamlin deep into the woods. Only when he slowed down to a leisure walk and changed back into fae, Lucien stopped and hid behind a massive trunk. Peeking out inconspicuously he watched his friend heading towards small cottage.
Lucien had never been in this part of the forest, but he knew this place instantly. He frowned. What are you doing here, Tam, he thought. He could only hope his friend had already learnt his lesson and wasn't up to something bad again.
Lucien's fingers curled into fists as he watched Tamlin to knock. It took mere seconds and the door opened. A beautiful young female with long shiny hair stepped out, smiling kindly. His jaw dropped at the scene in front of him. Tamlin smiled while talking with the female, his posture relaxed. From a far it looked like a friendly conversation. Lucien couldn't hear a single word, but soon enough Tamlin bid her farewell and turning into animal he sprinted away deeper into the forest.
Female stayed out looking in the direction Tamlin disappeared. Lucien waited until he was sure his friend is too far to hear him and winnowed closer to the cottage.
"I thought my friend is living in despair and meanwhile he's found a lovely company," he purred leaning against a tree.
Female yelped in surprise turning to face him. "Who are you?" she asked carefully, taking a step back, one hand reaching out behind her, trying to reach for the door.
"That's what I should ask you," Lucien smirked. "Easy. I mean no harm."
Female frowned and took another step back. She tried really hard to look strong, unmoved, but Lucien noticed small tremor of her fingers.
He flashed a smile that supposed to look kind, and straightened. "I'm Lucien, Tamlin's friend," he bowed with hand on his chest. "May I know your name, my lady?"
Female took another step back, now almost at the threshold. She seemed to not like his ironic politeness. Lucien waited for her answer, head tilted to the side. When it seemed she wouldn't answer, he sighed.
"Okay," he slowly stalked closer, narrowing eyes at her petite form. "I'm worried about my friend. And now I'm even more worried because I just saw him talking with a - let's say," he pretended to think about his next words, smile never leaving his lips, "female with a not so good reputation. I wonder what he wants from you and more importantly what you want from him."
"I want nothing," she said calmly, looking straight into his eyes even though her fingers trembled even more now.
"What a brave little thing," he grinned. "So what was he doing here?"
"He just came to.." she blushed, her face flustered. "He came to tell me he's going hunting."
Lucien arched a brow. "Why would he do such a thing? Do you know each other so well?"
She hesitated. So not so well. "Oh, beauty. Just spit it out. I won't bite you," he rolled his eyes, starting to be annoyed. Tamlin could return any minute and he still didn't have answers. "How do you know High Lord?"
"I found him wounded in the forest," she muttered.
"And I'm supposed to believe you didn't curse him?" Lucien tried to joke, but she took it seriously.
"Why should I do so? Not that I could do such a thing," she frowned even further.
"It was joke, girl," he gaped at her. "What happened? How did he get hurt?"
"I don't know. He's never told me. I was nearby when I heard painful roars and went to check it out."
"I see," he said thoughtfully, his gaze taking her in from head to toe. Female was telling truth all along.
"I just offered him shelter and food," she stated, hand already on handle. So Tamlin kept visiting her because she helped him. As far as he could say, she really had no powers even though she looked like high fae. After all she was just a harmless female who lit up the spark in Tamlin's eyes. A huge stone fell from Lucien's chest and he felt lighter instantly. His friend was well taken care of. That was something Lucien could live with.
"You have my gratitude for taking care of him," he smiled genuinely this time. "I'm sorry that I scared you, but you know. Tamlin is my friend and there are certain rumours about you. Now I see it's just rumours. Anyway I'm glad he met you."
She gave him a small nod, slowly closing the door. "One more thing," he stopped her. "I'd appreciate if you don't mention our encounter to Tamlin. At the moment he's still mad at me for a certain reason. He might take it wrong."
She hesitated, so he offered one of his kindest smiles. Finally she nodded and closed the door with a small thud.
Lucien wasted no time. Already hearing sounds of four paws in the forest undergrowth in distance he immediately winnowed away.
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fanficdelulus · 1 year ago
Text
Fractured
Fate (Gojo x Fem! Reader)
(TW: blood, death, depression)
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The bustling routine of caring for Tsumiki and Megumi had brought a profound sense of fulfillment you hadn't realized was missing in your life. From escorting them to school in the mornings to late-night homework sessions and cooking their favorite meals, your days were filled with the sounds of their laughter and the warmth of their presence.
As the higher-ups demanded most of Satoru's time, you had naturally become the main caretaker, ensuring their days were filled with love, nurturing, and the simple joys of childhood. The joy of being a family filled your home, even during those moments when Satoru's responsibilities kept him away.
Over the years, your unwavering commitment ensured that Satoru was present for every significant milestone in Tsumiki and Megumi's lives. Whether it was a birthday party, a school performance, or a holiday celebration, you orchestrated these moments with meticulous care, ensuring that they were filled with happiness and joy.
As Christmas approached, you took it upon yourself to create a festive atmosphere in your home. Decorating the tree, wrapping presents, and transforming your living space into a winter wonderland became cherished traditions.
One particularly delightful tradition involved Satoru dressing up as Santa, much to the children's amusement. Though they were well aware of his true identity, their laughter and smiles when they saw "Santa" brought an undeniable magic to the holiday season. Your efforts were dedicated to ensuring that Tsumiki and Megumi had as many fond memories as possible, no matter the circumstances
The passage of time was evident in the changing seasons, and now, eight years had slipped through your fingers. The once-bitterly cold snow had given way to the gentle warmth of spring. May flowers bloomed in abundance, casting a colorful tapestry across the landscape.
Around your dining table, the atmosphere was festive, and you joined together in singing "Happy 15th Birthday" to Tsumiki. The years had transformed the little girl into a young woman, and as you celebrated this significant milestone, you couldn't help but reflect on the beautiful journey your family had been on together.
Amidst the cheerful ambiance of Tsumiki's 15th birthday celebration, you gently posed the question as you cut the cake, a soft smile on your lips. Your husband, Satoru, leaned in eagerly, as always, ready for a slice, or maybe more.
Tsumiki's thoughtful eyes met yours as she replied, "I wished that things could stay like this forever." Her words struck a chord deep within your heart. In that moment, everything else faded away, and the world felt like it had come to a halt.
With Tsumiki and Megumi by your side, you and Satoru had woven a warm, loving home, despite the trials and tribulations. And that was the greatest wish you could've asked for – a future filled with unconditional love and happiness.
As you gently kissed Tsumiki's cheek and placed a piece of cake in front of her, you reassured her with love in your eyes. "It will, I promise."
Watching your family enjoy the cake, you couldn't help but feel a profound sense of hope wash over you. As the birthday celebration continued, you couldn't help but notice the subtle unease in Megumi's eyes. It was clear that something had been weighing on his mind, and with the family gathered around to enjoy the cake and festivities, he finally mustered the courage to voice his concern.
With a hint of nervousness, he leaned over the table, fiddling with his cake fork, and finally asked the question that had been bothering him. "You're going back to work in a month, right?"
Meeting Megumi's gaze, you could feel the depth of his worry. You understood his concerns well. It had been a while since you had been actively involved in sorcerer duties, and he didn't want you to get hurt when you returned to the field. Beneath his apprehension, there was a strong desire to become a capable sorcerer like Satoru, not only to protect himself but to ensure that you and Tsumiki could have a peaceful life, free from the dangers of the jujutsu world.
With a warm smile, you reached over and placed your hand on his, a gesture of understanding and reassurance. "I know you're concerned," you responded. "But remember, I'll only be working with Shoko at the school, and it'll be for only four hours a day. Most of the time, I'll be home, taking care of you and Tsumiki.”
Your words carried not just reassurance but a deep understanding of his feelings, making him feel acknowledged and supported in his concerns.
As Satoru reveled in the festivities and savored the delectable cake, he couldn't resist the temptation for a third helping. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, he reached for yet another slice while playfully teasing Megumi. “Worried about Mom, huh?"
Not one to let such remarks slide, Megumi swiftly snatched the cake away. "You should be worried about getting diabetes, old man," he replied with a sly grin.
Satoru began to put on a dramatic performance, exclaiming, "[Name], my darling, do you see how he—" However, you cut him off before he could continue.
With an affectionate chuckle, you addressed your husband, "My love, I'm not the food police, but Gumi's right. You had an entire sundae, three pastries, and two chocolate bars. No more for you tonight." Your gentle laughter filled the room as Satoru pouted playfully, while Tsumiki, seeing the playful interaction, pat his head before bringing her own plate into the kitchen.
As you and Satoru exchanged amused glances, the sound of Tsumiki rinsing her plate in the kitchen and Megumi clearing the table drifted through the room. It was these simple, everyday moments that had become an integral part of your lives.
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Your footsteps felt heavy as you walked down the cold, sterile hospital hallway, each step echoing the dread building within you. The attending physician, a solemn expression on her face, led you towards a single room at the very end of the hallway. The white walls, the scent of antiseptic, and the distant hum of medical equipment added to the overwhelming feeling of unease.
As soon as the door to Tsumiki's room closed, leaving the two of you alone in the sterile, unnerving environment, you couldn't contain the wave of emotions that washed over you. You collapsed into a chair by her side, your trembling hands reaching out to hold hers. There she lay, comatose because of a sinister curse that had taken her away from you.
The knowledge that there was nothing you could have done to prevent this tragedy weighed heavily on your heart. A deep sense of guilt gnawed at your very core. You had made a solemn vow eight years ago to protect both Tsumiki and Megumi, and now, seeing her comatose form, you felt like you had failed her.
Tears streamed down your cheeks as you reached out to gently hold Tsumiki's hand. Her frail, motionless presence seemed to magnify your own helplessness, and you couldn't help but speak softly through your sobs. "I'm so sorry, Tsumiki. We promised to keep you safe“ pausing as a soft sob escaped past your lips,“please wake up my baby, we need you.”
Your apology and plea carried the weight of your love, your pain, and your overwhelming sense of responsibility. Each word trembled with the sadness and despair you felt at that moment. Your tears fell like a torrential rain, and you clung to Tsumiki's hand as if your grip could somehow transfer your love and strength to her dormant form.
In the still, sterile hospital room, your voice echoed, a haunting symphony of sorrow and hope. You yearned for the day when Tsumiki would open her eyes, and everything would be okay once more.
A soft, hesitant knock echoed through the room, granting you a brief moment to regain your composure. With a trembling breath, you opened the door and came face to face with a six-foot-tall man. He was dressed impeccably in a sharp black suit that exuded an air of authority and formality. As you closed the door gently behind you, your heart raced in your chest, and a sense of trepidation loomed over the encounter.
"The Special Counsel has determined that Megumi Fushiguro is now of an age to attend Jujutsu High full-time. They send their regards and condolences for Miss Tsumiki’s current state but since she is comatose, you are now required to start working full time. I'm here to escort you to the aircraft. All the mission details will be provided on the plane," the man gruffly informed, his words heavy with an air of formality and cold detachment.
Your voice quivered with desperation as you argued with the man. "I understand he's old enough for the school, but his sister just fell into a coma, and I'm their guardian. They both need me," you pleaded. As the tension in the argument escalated, you cast a frantic glance down the hall, spotting Megumi and Satoru approaching. Your desperation deepened as the gravity of the situation weighed heavily on your shoulders.
You locked eyes with Megumi, your maternal instincts screaming at you to rush toward him, to make things better for both him and his comatose sister. Before you could act on that impulse, a vice-like grip on your wrist stopped you dead in your tracks.
The man's face remained as stern as a stone fortress, his grip unyielding, as he spoke, his voice cold and unemotional. "I comprehend your concerns, but this is not a matter of choice. You will come with me." His words bore down on you like an unmovable mountain, leaving no room for argument or negotiation.
The tension in the air grew thicker, your desperation increasing as the seconds ticked away. You couldn't stand the unyielding grip on your wrist or the man's cold demeanor. Your frustration reached a boiling point as you hissed, "Fuck off, my kids come first," and with a quick, assertive motion, you managed to slip out of his hold.
As you passed by Satoru to reach Megumi, you locked eyes with him. In that fleeting moment, you saw a fire burning in his gaze, a smoldering rage that simmered just beneath the surface. Satoru, usually so composed and charismatic, was livid. The fact that some unknown figure had dared to lay hands on his wife had ignited a fury within him that threatened to consume everything in its path.
His clenched jaw and the intensity of his stare spoke volumes, a silent promise that he wouldn't let this indignity go unpunished. The air crackled with the unspoken message that the man who had touched you would soon face the consequences of provoking the wrath of a protective and furious Satoru Gojo.
Adrenaline coursing through your veins and a flicker of fear danced in your [e/c] eyes, but you steadied yourself with a deep breath, shifting your focus to Megumi as he approached.
Your concerned gaze swept over him, making sure he was alright before taking his hand in yours. "Ready?" you asked, your voice gentle and reassuring. He silently nodded, and together, you stepped into the room.
As the door clicked shut behind you, you could feel Megumi's tension instantly. Holding his hand, you gently squeezed it, guiding him to the chair right by his sister's side. The sterile hospital room felt heavy with uncertainty and tension, your hearts racing.
Then, a hurried knock at the door sent another jolt of anxiety through you. With a determined yet tearful gaze, you locked eyes with Megumi, your voice trembling as a whirlwind of emotions threatened to engulf you.
"Megumi, I promised you two would be happy with us, and I promise we'll find a way to break the curse," your voice quivered, a torrent of sorrow and hope intermingling.
Your tears flowed freely as you continued, "I... I'm so sorry, but I have to go now." Your lips pressed against his forehead in a final, loving kiss, and you held him in your arms one last time. "Satoru will be here for you. Lean on him, please. I love you both, Gumi," you whispered, your voice heavy with the immense weight of the moment.
As you pulled away, your eyes remained locked with his, a deep well of sorrow and affection in that parting gaze. Reluctantly, you let him go and stepped out of the room, leaving the two siblings alone, the pain of separation echoing in your heart.
With the door closing behind you, you were met by the burning intensity of your husband's fury, a fire you had never seen in him before. His eyes blazed with anger, and the air around him crackled with tension.
Satoru's seething rage threatened to boil over, and you knew you needed to intervene to prevent a dangerous confrontation. Stepping between him and the stranger, you asserted your authority with unwavering determination.
"I am [Name] Gojo," you declared in a voice that held both power and resolve, "and I demand five minutes with my husband before I leave on this mission."
Your words hung in the air like a challenge, and with a firm yet gentle grip, you took Satoru by the wrist and led him to a nearby empty sitting area. The tension in the room was suffocating, and you knew it was time to address the anger and turmoil that threatened to consume you both.
In the dimly lit corridor of the hospital, you reached out, your hands trembling as you grasped both of Satoru's. Tears streamed down your face as you looked into his eyes, your voice quivering with fear and desperation.
"I know, I know," you began, your voice shaking with the weight of the moment. "I know I don't need to tell you this, but please, please watch over them," you pleaded, your voice breaking as he pulled you into a tight embrace. His strong arms wrapped around you, providing a brief moment of solace in the midst of turmoil.
"I will, you know I will," Satoru reassured you, his voice a comforting anchor in your storm of emotions.
You pulled away slightly, trembling from the anxiety coursing through you. "I can't fight this; they've made their decision," you admitted, desperation evident in your voice. "Something's not right about this, Satoru, I can feel it. I just—" You glanced at your watch, the seconds ticking away relentlessly.
Time was running out.
"I love you, Satoru," you whispered, your voice trembling, tears freely flowing down your cheeks. As you spoke, he gently cradled your tear-stained face in his hands, pulling you into a passionate, desperate kiss. “I love you too," Satoru whispered, his voice filled with raw emotion, his eyes locked onto your [e/c] eyes, which glistened with unshed tears. "You are my everything, so please, come home," he pleaded, his love and anguish vividly displayed in his expression.
"I will, I promise. I love you, my darling," you reassured him, your voice filled with determination and affection. You placed a chaste, lingering kiss on his lips before turning away, the weight of your duties pressing down on you, despite the tumultuous emotions that threatened to overwhelm your resolve.
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You sat in the car, your mind numb, as it transported you to the airfield. Upon arrival, you were swiftly ushered onto a private jet. The plane was nearly empty, save for a pilot and a stewardess. In this solitude, you found a strange sense of solace amidst the maelstrom of emotions that churned within you.
The aircraft's engines roared to life, but the journey remained quiet, which was somewhat of a relief. The absence of conversation allowed you a moment of respite, even though the heaviness of your thoughts weighed you down throughout the flight. The silence mirrored the emptiness you felt without your husband and the children you had grown to love so dearly
As you peeled off the sweat-soaked clothes, your racing heart and trembling hands revealed the gravity of the situation. The realization that you'd have to leave your husband and two beloved children behind in the midst of this crisis gnawed at your every thought.
The hot water in the shower was a deluge of both cleansing warmth and the cruel reminder of the world you were being forced back into. The jets of water pounded against your body, a stark contrast to the tenderness of your last moments with Satoru and the kids.
Once you were clean and dressed, a hot meal and a thick dossier were placed in front of you, but they might as well have been bricks. You pushed the food around your plate, eating mechanically, knowing that you needed sustenance for the ordeal ahead.
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"Rural Minnesota?" you mumbled, your voice laden with dread as you skimmed the dossier. The details only reinforced your anxiety. The mission was not only challenging but also deeply unsettling.
As the vehicle ascended through winding mountain roads, lush green trees and towering peaks surrounded you, creating a serene and breathtaking landscape. The breathtaking scenery was a stark contrast to the storm of emotions swirling inside you.
Deeper into the mountains you ventured, your stomach coiled with anxiety. You held an unshakable confidence in your abilities, but you couldn't suppress the dreadful feeling that began to creep in when the entrance of the mission site finally appeared on the horizon.
Exiting the vehicle, an overwhelming sense of déjà vu washed over you as you surveyed the desolation of the town. It felt like a haunting mirror of what you had read in the report detailing Suguru's heinous acts. A shiver ran down your spine, and a deep-seated dread began to gnaw at your insides, but you forcefully pushed those haunting thoughts aside.
The town seemed like a ghostly remnant of the past, frozen in time. It was a place where no more than a thousand people could have lived, yet as you cautiously moved through the abandoned buildings, there wasn't a single soul to be found. The heavy silence was punctuated by the ominous echoes of past horrors, intensifying the growing drama and unease that clung to the air.
As you made your way through the desolate neighborhoods, you froze in place, fear paralyzing you. There, right before your eyes, was an SUV that looked exactly like the one your younger siblings had been driven away in. It was as if a ghost from your past had materialized, sending a chilling shiver down your spine. Your breath quickened, and your pulse raced with an overwhelming sense of fear, your mind racing with the horrifying possibilities that lay ahead.
Your legs moved involuntarily, propelled by sheer terror, as you sprinted toward the home. The moment you pushed past the broken front door, the pungent, metallic smell of blood hit you like a tidal wave, assaulting your senses. The very air was saturated with a thick, ominous dread that squeezed your heart in a vise.
The sight that met your eyes was a nightmare. Your younger siblings and their parents lay slaughtered before you. Their lifeless bodies, bathed in crimson, bore the cruel marks of violence. Instinctively, you rushed to their sides, heart pounding with a desperate need to save them, but you knew deep down that it was too late. Your healing abilities were powerless to reverse the horrors that had been inflicted upon them
Tears flowed like an unending river down your cheeks, blurring your vision as your anguished cries reverberated throughout the house. Each sob felt like a searing, relentless ache in your chest, threatening to tear you apart. As you wept uncontrollably, the bitter taste of betrayal stung your tongue. "This was never supposed to happen," you thought, your silent lament echoing in the shattered, blood-stained room.
The weight of broken promises from the higher-ups bore down on you, intensifying your torment. The world around you seemed to blur and distort as you grappled with the overwhelming sense of despair, your hope shattered like the lives that lay before you.
A chilling realization crept over you, sending a shiver down your spine. As you surveyed the scene, a subtle sense of dread washed over you. It became clear that the remnants of malevolent curse energy lingered in the air, like ominous fingerprints left behind in the aftermath of a calculated and sinister plan.
Examining the wounds on the lifeless bodies, it was evident that they were purposeful, precise strikes that had taken place with meticulous intent. It was as though they had been waiting for you to draw near, lurking in the shadows, and then, as soon as you had gotten closer, their fatal strike had been executed with ruthless efficiency. The revelation that they had murdered your family the moment you approached the scene filled you with a chilling sense of vulnerability and dread.
An overwhelming numbness enveloped you as you painstakingly checked through each home. It was as if the world around you had turned into a bleak, nightmarish tableau. Every single living being, without exception, had met their demise within the confines of their homes. The calculated brutality of the acts weighed heavily on your soul, and you found yourself unable to fathom how this unspeakable horror had come to pass.
With mechanical movements, you trudged through the desolation, your senses dulled by the sheer magnitude of the tragedy that unfolded before your eyes.
The town, once teeming with life, now lay in utter desolation. The perpetrators had orchestrated this gruesome massacre with eerie precision, knowing that you would eventually arrive on this grim scene.
As you ventured toward the outskirts of the town, the gnawing numbness persisted, rendering you incapable of fully processing the magnitude of the catastrophe that had unfolded. The unrelenting shock and disbelief left you suspended in a world where the unfathomable had become reality.
As you meticulously scoured the nearby forestry, your movements deliberate and cautious, you suddenly encountered an unfamiliar adversary. Two grotesque branches jutted out from its eye sockets, like twisted, malevolent antlers. The sight was a macabre fusion of horror and surrealism, a manifestation of power that transcended the bounds of nature.
Fear coiled tightly in your chest as you gazed upon this grotesque visage. It was a moment that defied explanation, an embodiment of the unknown. In that instant, you knew that you were confronting a formidable and enigmatic force that had the power to unleash your deepest fears and disrupt your resolve.
Intrigued yet wary, you initiated a conversation, your voice laced with tension. "Who are you? What are you doing here?"
They met your gaze with an eerie calmness and then, without a word, unleashed their abilities. An overwhelming sense of déjà vu surged through you, the delicate blooms twisted into a malevolent force, exuding a mesmerizing aura that left you dazed and disoriented.
The very air seemed to blur, and your senses were overwhelmed by the suffocating aroma. As the insidious power of these petals took hold, you struggled to maintain your focus and direction. Everything became a distorted and disorienting whirl, your senses swimming through a fog of confusion. Your movements faltered, and your mind felt as if it was slipping away. In that bewildering moment, it seized the opportunity to escape, leaving you with a lingering sense of dread.
The dense forest seemed to close in around you as you continued your search for your assailant. With every rustle of leaves and every whisper of the wind, your heart raced faster. The sensation of being hunted was unsettling, and you couldn't shake the fear that this creature was toying with you.
No matter how hard you tried, they remained elusive, an almost ghostly presence in the woods. With a sinking feeling, you realized that returning to the vehicle was your safest option. Engaging in a confrontation with an enemy you couldn't even locate would only lead to further danger. As you retraced your steps, a nagging unease weighed heavily on your mind. You knew Hanami was cunning and intelligent, and underestimating them would be a grave mistake.
You retraced your steps back to the sleek, dark sedan that had brought you here, a heavy heart weighing down every step. Despite your best efforts to glean any hints or leads, the malevolent forces behind this gruesome scene had left no trace except for the harrowing tableau they'd wanted you to witness.
As the luxury black sedan began to glide away from the scene, you settled into the plush leather seats with an eerie detachment. The lavish interior, once a symbol of comfort and prestige, now felt incongruous with the haunting images etched in your mind.
Your own appearance had been neglected in the relentless quest for answers, and as you finally spared a glance at yourself, a mixture of blood and dirt clung to your garments. The sight brought an unsettling realization of how deeply you'd been affected by the horrors you'd just witnessed.
With a numbed sense of detachment, you stared at the stains on your clothes and the blood-drenched shoes, each mark a testament to the unspeakable tragedy you had encountered. Despite the relative comfort of the vehicle, the overwhelming sense of numbness and despair lingered, like an indelible scar on your soul, leaving you feeling adrift in a world irrevocably altered.
Despite the soothing embrace of a hot shower and the comfort of fresh clothing, it felt as though the vivid memories were inescapable. No matter how fervently you scrubbed, their bloodstains persisted, a haunting reminder of the horrors you'd witnessed.
Your stomach churned with a relentless sense of nausea as you gazed down at the gourmet meal elegantly presented by the stewardess. However, you couldn't bring yourself to take a bite, pushing the tray aside. Your gaze drifted to the window, where the serene clouds sailed by, but your vision blurred as tears welled up in your eyes.
The last moments with them played on a loop in your mind, and a sense of unbearable sadness overcame you. You had made promises, you had given your all, you had followed their every instruction, and yet it seemed that fate had cruelly betrayed you.
The weight of that perceived failure bore down on your heart, and you couldn't hold back the silent sobs that wracked your body as you curled up into a ball in the plush, lush seat, the tears tracing the contours of your profound, heartbreaking sorrow.
Dark circles had found a permanent home under your eyes, constant companions in the wake of relentless insomnia. The haunting images of the lifeless bodies and the resurgence of past traumas left you tossing and turning throughout the flight, despite the lush queen sized bed they had prepared for you. Every restless moment served as a cruel reminder, etching deeper lines of anguish on your face.
With a mechanical, almost numb demeanor, you disembarked from the jet as it touched down in Kyoto. The somber weight of your mission loomed heavily upon you, and you were quickly ushered away to face the enigmatic higher-ups. They sought answers, but they couldn't possibly fathom the turmoil within you.
As you were whisked away to provide your statement, your every movement seemed robotic, a mere echo of your once-vibrant self. Anguish simmered just beneath the surface, your eyes reflecting the torment that had become your constant companion.
They ushered you into the meeting room, where a large, imposing table stretched out in front of you. The seats surrounding it were occupied by members of the special counsel, expressions veiled and inscrutable, their unspoken disapproval was palpable.
Your eyes darted around, searching for Satoru, but the clock on the wall showed a time that was far from convenient. It was evident that they had purposefully arranged your early arrival, depriving you of his support.
As the questioning began, the council's interrogation was relentless. They demanded details of the mission and the horrors you had encountered, their skepticism hanging heavy in the air.
"I assure you, the account I've given is the truth," you responded firmly, your voice unwavering in the face of their doubt. Still, deep down, you longed for Satoru's reassuring presence, his unwavering support, and the strength he had always provided you in moments like this.
The council members peered at you, their eyes carrying a weight of skepticism. One of them spoke with a stern tone, "You said that the curse you encountered had intelligence. Is that correct, Mrs. Gojo?"
You nodded, your voice unwavering as you responded, "Yes, it had killed the townsfolk and purposely killed my siblings and their parents last in anticipation of my arrival."
As you spoke, you couldn't help but feel the weight of the memories and the trauma resurface, but you took a deep breath to steady yourself, determined to convey the truth to this disapproving council.
The council members exchanged glances as they processed your testimony. One of them inquired further, "You stated it possessed a technique similar to your own?"
You felt anger simmering within you, but you kept your composure as you answered, "Yes, it fled by subduing me with an effect similar to my flower field."
Your voice remained steady, but a spark of frustration danced in your eyes as you recounted the unnerving encounter.
As one of the council members tried to wrap up the questioning, you couldn't contain your own inquiries any longer, a simmering intensity laced your voice as you interrupted him.
"How did you people let this happen?" You darkly questioned, your gaze piercing each of their faces in turn.
Your accusation hung in the air, leaving an uncomfortable silence in its wake as they struggled to find a response. The council members started with a cold acknowledgment, "We give you our condolences for your loss and understand how you feel."
Emotions surged within you, and you couldn't contain your frustration. "There's absolutely no way in hell you could ever understand how I feel!" you seethed, your voice trembling with a mixture of grief and anger. "I left my home country and everything I knew behind for the safety of my siblings! You promised me they would be safe."
Suddenly, without your notice, Satoru quietly entered the room. His presence, though unnoticed by you, represented a reassuring figure in the face of the dispassionate council.
"We ensured they went to a safe and happy home. There was no way for us to predict that a curse spirit with high intelligence could target that exact town," one council member explained.
"You were one of the only ones who knew their whereabouts. I left them to come here so they could be better off," you cried, your voice quivering with anguish, a small trail of blood trickling down your nose.
"Mrs. Gojo, you need to calm down," one council member attempted to soothe you.
"Don't tell me to calm down!" you screamed, the weight of their deaths, Tsumiki's condition, and all the accumulated stress finally settling in. Your legs gave way, and you stumbled, but Satoru rushed to your side, catching you in his arms. The emotional turmoil and the physical strain had taken their toll on you.
Your body, unable to contain the emotional and physical toll, began to betray you. Blood steadily trickled out of your nose, dribbling past your lips and chin. Your cheeks flushed with a feverish warmth, and your eyes were glazed with distress. Satoru looked down at you with deep concern, understanding the gravity of the situation.
As your condition rapidly worsened, your husband Satoru was beside himself. His deep concern for your health mixed with the anger he felt toward the special counsel. The realization that they had deliberately made him late for this inquisition, preventing him from being with you when you needed him most, infuriated him. His usually calm and collected demeanor gave way to an uncharacteristic storm of emotions.
The council, though concerned about your well-being, was met with Satoru's wrath. "You manipulated this situation. Your petty games and power plays have consequences. If anything happens to her because of this, there will be no place for you to hide," he seethed.
With that, Satoru, maintaining his composure, gently cradled you in his arms, determined to get you the medical attention you needed.
The journey to the medical facility was torturous for both you and Satoru. Clutched in his arms, your fever raged on, and in your delirium, you repeated the same words like a heart-wrenching mantra: "They're dead... They're dead..." Each utterance felt like a stab in Satoru's chest, a reminder of the pain you were enduring.
As he held you close, Satoru couldn't do anything to alleviate the torment you were experiencing. All he could offer was his unwavering presence and the hope that the doctors could provide some relief.
However, as the miles passed, your voice grew weaker and more strained until finally, you went limp in his arms. Your exhausted body surrendered to unconsciousness, and all Satoru could do was press a tender kiss to your forehead and hold you as tightly as he could, vowing silently that he would help you through this unimaginable ordeal.
It took three agonizing days before you regained consciousness. When you finally awoke, it was not in the comfort of your home but in a sterile, unfamiliar hospital room. The dim, artificial lighting seemed to mirror the heaviness that had settled upon your heart.
The memories of the tragic events in that town had taken a toll on your spirit. The loss of your siblings and the cruel manipulation of the special counsel had left you profoundly depressed. Satoru, who had been tirelessly at your side throughout your ordeal, now watched over you with deep concern.
The vibrant, lively person you once were seemed to have faded, replaced by a heavy-hearted version of yourself. The days moved sluggishly, punctuated by silent tears and a crushing sense of despair.
Tears cascaded down your cheeks as you aimlessly wandered through your once-beloved apartment, its empty rooms now serving as a constant reminder of what had been lost. With a heavy heart, you found yourself sitting beside the closed bedroom doors, one labeled 'Tsumiki' and the other 'Megumi,' each a portal to your pain.
You couldn't bring yourself to enter either room. The special counsel's decision had become an unshakeable weight on your soul. Tsumiki lay motionless in the hospital, trapped in a seemingly endless coma, while Megumi was consumed by his demanding studies and training.
Frustration, sadness, and a sense of profound helplessness filled your thoughts. Your anguished dialogue, whispered to no one in particular, echoed down the empty corridor outside their rooms, a testament to your anguish. "I can't believe this... I thought things would be different," you choked out, the grief heavy in every syllable. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you continued, "I miss them so much."
The house was eerily dark and quiet when Satoru returned home, an unusual hush that sent a chill down his spine. His heart sank as he ventured further inside, and the sense of foreboding only deepened when he discovered you curled up in front of the kids' bedroom doors. Tears had left their indelible mark on your cheeks, evidence of your heart-wrenching anguish.
Satoru's footsteps grew heavy as he approached you, the very air weighed down by the unspoken grief in the room. He gently knelt beside you, his hand tenderly brushing a strand of hair from your tear-streaked face. Your body had finally succumbed to exhaustion, allowing you to rest even in the midst of this tragedy.
The silence was broken only by the soft sound of your breathing, and the atmosphere was laden with tension, sadness, and an overwhelming sense of despair. As Satoru gazed upon your form, he couldn't help but feel the weight of the world pressing on his shoulders, the thought of the happiness you all once shared seemed like a distant memory.
————————————————
Thank you for reading and supporting Fate!
As always, much love xoxo
ʕ·ᴥ·ʔ
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zapreportsblog · 1 year ago
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Carlisle and Esme meeting underweight reader?
❝the doctor knows best❞
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✭ pairing : Carlisle Cullen x reader x Esme Cullen
✭ fandom : twilight
✭ summary : (y/n) has always been on the underweight side and over time she begin to feel self conscious so she seeks help from her local doctor and even gets a bit of inside help along the way
✭ twilight masterlist 2
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(Y/N) had always struggled with her weight. It seemed like an endless battle she couldn't win, no matter how hard she tried. She had always been on the underweight side, her slender frame a source of both frustration and concern. Her friends would envy her seemingly effortless ability to eat without gaining, but they didn't see the other side of the coin - the constant anxiety, the unhealthy habits, and the feeling of helplessness that came with it.
One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the small town of Forks, (Y/N) couldn't ignore the nagging feeling in her stomach any longer. She knew she needed help, but admitting it to herself was a struggle in its own right. She'd spent years keeping this hidden from everyone, even her family.
Gathering her courage, she decided it was time to seek professional advice. With a heavy heart and trembling hands, she dialed the number for the local hospital and scheduled an appointment. It was a step into the unknown, but she couldn't continue like this.
The following week, (Y/N) found herself sitting in the sterile waiting room of the Forks Hospital, her anxiety building with each passing second. Her heart raced, and she clutched her purse tightly, feeling more vulnerable than ever.
"Ms. (Y/L/N)?" a soft voice called from the doorway. Startled, she looked up to see a kind, blond-haired man in a white lab coat. "I'm Dr. Carlisle Cullen. Please, come with me."
Carlisle's warm smile immediately put (Y/N) at ease. She followed him down a long corridor to an examination room, where he motioned for her to take a seat on the examination table.
"Tell me, (Y/N), what brings you here today?" Carlisle asked, his blue eyes filled with genuine concern.
(Y/N) hesitated for a moment, but the pain and frustration she had carried for so long finally spilled out. She confessed her struggles with maintaining a healthy weight, the constant fear of gaining, and the cycle of binging and purging that had dominated her life. Tears welled up in her eyes as she spoke, and Carlisle listened attentively, never once judging her.
After a thoughtful pause, Carlisle said, "Thank you for sharing this with me, (Y/N). It's essential that you've taken this step to seek help. I'm here to support you in your journey to a healthier life. First, I'd like to run some tests to assess your overall health, and then we can discuss a plan to help you gain weight in a safe and sustainable way."
Relief washed over (Y/N) as she realized that she had found someone who understood her struggle and was willing to help. She nodded, her gratitude shining through her teary eyes.
Carlisle smiled reassuringly. "We'll take this one step at a time, (Y/N). I promise you won't be alone in this. Let's schedule another appointment after your tests, and by then, I should have a personalized meal plan tailored to your needs."
As (Y/N) left the hospital that day, she felt a glimmer of hope she hadn't felt in years. With Dr. Carlisle Cullen's guidance, she was ready to embark on a new journey toward a healthier and happier life, leaving her old burdens behind and embracing the promise of a brighter future.
As Carlisle stepped through the door of their stately home in Forks, the warm embrace of familiarity enveloped him. Esme, his beloved wife, was there to greet him as she always was. Her golden eyes sparkled with affection as she looked at him.
"Look at you, my hard at work doctor," Esme purred, her arms encircling Carlisle as she pressed a soft kiss to his lips.
Carlisle returned the kiss, savoring the tenderness of their connection. "Work was challenging, but fulfilling, my dear," he replied, his fingers gently caressing her cheek.
Esme's curiosity was piqued. She always enjoyed hearing about Carlisle's day, knowing how dedicated he was to his profession. "Tell me, love, how was work today?"
Carlisle smiled and led Esme to the cozy living room, where they settled on the plush couch. He began recounting his day, sharing the various cases and medical challenges he had encountered at the hospital.
"And then," Carlisle continued, "I met a young woman who's been struggling with being underweight for most of her life. She came seeking help to gain weight in a healthy way."
Esme's interest was instantly piqued. She had always been a nurturing soul, and the idea of helping someone regain their health struck a chord with her. "That sounds like a noble cause," she mused. "Do you have a plan in mind for her?"
Carlisle nodded. "I'll be in my office working on a personalized meal plan for her. It's essential that we help her find a balance and improve her overall well-being."
Esme's eyes sparkled with eagerness. She knew how much Carlisle enjoyed his work, but she also knew how much he valued her assistance in certain matters. "May I be of help, my love?"
Carlisle's gaze softened as he looked at his beautiful wife. He knew how much joy she found in the art of cooking, and her expertise in the kitchen was unparalleled. "Perhaps you can, my love," he said with a gentle smile. "Your culinary skills might be just what she needs to make this journey more enjoyable and successful."
Esme's heart swelled with affection for her husband. She knew that together, they could make a real difference in this young woman's life. "Then let's work together to create a meal plan that will not only nourish her body but also warm her heart."
As the evening unfolded, Carlisle and Esme sat side by side in his office, poring over nutrition guidelines and designing a meal plan that would be both effective and delicious. In their united efforts, they found a deeper connection and a shared sense of purpose, ready to help their new patient on the path to a healthier and happier life.
The next day, as the sun cast its soft morning rays over Forks, Carlisle was filled with a renewed sense of purpose as he prepared for his appointment with (Y/N). He had spent the previous evening with Esme, meticulously crafting a meal plan that would address (Y/N)'s nutritional needs and gradually help her gain the weight she so desperately sought.
As he entered the hospital's examination room, he found (Y/N) sitting there, a mix of apprehension and hope in her eyes. He couldn't help but smile warmly as he greeted her. "Good morning, (Y/N). I hope you're feeling well today."
(Y/N) offered a small but genuine smile in return. "Good morning, Dr. Cullen. Thank you for seeing me again."
Carlisle took a seat across from her, his expression reassuring. "Of course, (Y/N). I've taken some time to put together a meal plan that I believe will help you achieve your goals in a healthy and sustainable way." He slid a neatly printed sheet of paper across the table toward her.
(Y/N) eagerly picked up the meal plan, her eyes scanning the contents. It was clear that Carlisle had put a lot of thought and care into it. Her apprehension began to melt away as she saw the balanced meals and the variety of foods.
"I should mention," Carlisle said with a warm smile, "that my wife, Esme, helped me create this meal plan. She's an exceptional cook and has a real knack for making nutritious food taste delicious. We thought her expertise might make this journey a bit more enjoyable for you."
(Y/N)'s eyes lit up with gratitude. "That's so kind of both of you, Dr. Cullen. Please thank your wife for me. I truly appreciate all the help."
Carlisle nodded, pleased to see (Y/N) looking hopeful. "You're very welcome, (Y/N). Remember, you're not alone in this. We're here to support you every step of the way. If you have any questions or concerns, don't hesitate to reach out."
As (Y/N) left the hospital that day, clutching the meal plan in her hand, she felt a newfound sense of optimism. With the guidance of Dr. Carlisle Cullen and the support of his caring wife, Esme, she believed that she could finally overcome the weight struggles that had haunted her for so long. It was a small but significant step on her journey to a healthier and happier life, and for the first time in a long while, (Y/N) had hope.
It had been a month since (Y/N) had started following the meal plan that Dr. Carlisle Cullen and his wife, Esme, had designed for her. In that short time, she had begun to notice changes in her body. Her clothes fit a little snugger, her energy levels were up, and most importantly, she felt less self-conscious about her weight. It was a promising start to her journey toward a healthier self.
On a sunny afternoon, (Y/N) found herself at the local supermarket, browsing the aisles for the ingredients on her meal plan. She was lost in thought, comparing brands of whole-grain pasta when a familiar voice called out her name.
"(Y/N)?"
Startled, (Y/N) turned around to see a friendly woman with caramel-colored hair smiling at her. She was taken aback, not recognizing the person who had addressed her. "I'm sorry, do I know you?" she asked politely.
The woman's smile widened, and her golden eyes sparkled with recognition. "I'm Esme, Doctor Carlilse’s wife," she introduced herself.
It all clicked into place for (Y/N). The face before her was one she had seen in a photograph during her appointment with Dr. Cullen. She had to admit that Esme was even more radiant in person. "Oh, of course! You're Esme," she exclaimed, her eyes lighting up with realization.
Esme's warm laughter filled the supermarket aisle. "Yes, that's me. It's wonderful to see you outside of the hospital, (Y/N). How have you been?"
"(Y/N)" couldn't help but smile. She was genuinely touched by the chance encounter. "I've been doing better, thanks to the meal plan you and Dr. Cullen created for me. I've put on some weight, and I'm starting to feel more confident."
Esme's eyes shone with happiness. "I'm so glad to hear that! You're making wonderful progress. It's a pleasure to see you thriving."
(Y/N) felt a sense of warmth and connection with Esme. She had always been grateful for the support of Dr. Cullen, but now, meeting his wife in such a casual setting, she realized that she was part of a caring and compassionate team that genuinely cared about her well-being.
As they continued shopping together, Esme offered tips on selecting the freshest produce and shared some of her favorite recipes for healthy meals. Their conversation flowed effortlessly, as if they had known each other for much longer than this chance meeting.
By the time they parted ways in the supermarket parking lot, (Y/N) felt a deep sense of gratitude. She had not only gained weight but also found new friends and support in Dr. Carlisle Cullen and his wonderful wife, Esme. This unexpected encounter was a reminder that sometimes, life had a way of bringing people together just when they needed it most.
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mikavlcs · 2 years ago
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Masterlist
Requests are: closed (rules)
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Wednesday Addams (Wednesday)
Paralysis & Ricochet 
An unexpected emotional outburst destroys your relationship with Wednesday. The path to reconciliation is long and arduous, but she finds her way there eventually.
Loveless 
With some help from Enid, Wednesday gathers the courage to confess to you on Valentine’s Day.
Blonde 
Despite being opposites, your and Wednesday’s relationship is great. There’s only one problem: you’re not very smart.
Had Enough
Xavier starts to get overzealous with you. Wednesday puts him in his place.
Heaven in Hiding 
There’s a savage, uncontrollable beast inside of you. Just when you lose hope of ever taming it, someone unexpectedly offers to help you.
Flowers 
Wednesday’s plan to court you is thwarted by an unforeseen issue.
Breathe 
A sudden run in with the Hyde induces an asthma attack. Luckily, Wednesday is there to help you.
Absence Persistent 
You’re physically affectionate with everybody except for Wednesday, and she’s determined to find out why.
Reverie
In the midst of investigating, a figure from your past returns, sending you into a panic. Wednesday is there to help pick up the pieces (and maybe get some revenge as well).
Elysium
After realizing her untimely feelings, Wednesday pushes you away, but the arrival of a certain dance proves that she may have made a fatal mistake in doing so. (Part 2 of Reverie)
Spotlight 
During an unprompted visit, Wednesday discovers something that you’ve been trying to hide.
Static Patterns 
Wednesday’s struggling to say those three special words, so she decides to instead show you how she feels.
Sweater Weather 
Wednesday gives you her sweater to wear on a cold day in Jericho. (short)
Heaven Sent 
While sharing a bed, Wednesday finds a new use for your wings.
White flag
Tyler is infatuated with you. Wednesday puts a stop to it.
Whispers in the Dark
After a harrowing nightmare, Wednesday tries her best to bring you comfort.
Dinosaur Talks
You like to talk about dinosaurs, and Wednesday likes to listen. (short)
Astraphobia
You’re not a fan of thunderstorms. Wednesday knows and tries her best to help you through it.
Rebels and Renegades
Becoming best friends with a sentient hand brings many much-needed changes to your life, the biggest being the very girl he arrived at Nevermore with.
Dog Days
The help you need to confess to your crush winds up coming from an incredibly unlikely (and furry) source.
Not On My Mind
You leave school for a trip, and Wednesday doesn't miss you. Not even a little bit.
Tara Carpenter (Scream)
Shade Astray 
Never in her life had Tara met anyone that made her feel like you did. She would make you hers, no matter what it took. (Ghostface!Tara)
Purity Weeps 
You don’t talk about home very often and Tara finds out why. (Ghostface!Tara)
False Meridian
Another Ghostface appears out of the blue and Tara will do whatever it takes to eliminate them before they get the chance to hurt you. (Ghostface!Tara)
Gwen Stacy (ITSV)
Young Blood
You're new and Gwen's forced to show you around. It doesn't end up being as tedious as she was expecting.
Start a Fire
Gwen saves you and you help her out in return.
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harleehazbinfics · 8 months ago
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HOME IS WHERE MY HEART IS. (S1 FINALE)
Chapter 12: Our Deal Table of Contents | Profile
Word Count: 1400+ A/N: 😭 we're already done!! thank you sm for being part of the journey hngh, it's insane how much this blog has grown despite it just me spitting out random scenarios, this was my first series here. so im grateful to each and every one that has come with me in the process. every heart, comment and reblog made me happy. please enjoy the s1 finale! I'll be over my other works doing stuff so you can check them out here: link
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“I need you to stay here,” I say holding Abby’s shoulders, “We can’t risk you getting caught in the crossfire. Promise me.”
She furrows here brows before nodding, “I understand.”
“Good,” I say firmly before kissing her cheek, “I love you so much.”
“Stay safe, mom,” she encourages with a smile.
I return it and give her crystal orb. “Here, you can have this. This can help you see what’s going on outside.”
She accepts and immediately inspects it. Her fingers brushing on the screen seeing her mother’s face in the orb as she was in real time. I gave a smile which was transmitted to the orb instantly. She slides on the orb one more time to her father, attending the speech Charlie was speaking. She hid it with the use of her powers and gives me one final hug.
“Dear, why don’t you join the other’s downstairs? You should get to know them better now that you decided on staying,” Alastor joins us and holds my waist with one hand and his microphone in the other.
“Oh! Right!” she enthusiastically runs down the hall and disappears.
“Gosh, where does she get that energy from,” I comment holding my cheek, feeling tired just looking at her. “That definitely wasn’t from me.”
Alastor laughs and gives me a kiss on the cheek before we follow after her slowly. He says this instead of answering, “As long as she’s happy that’s fine!”
I roll my eyes playfully at him and gazed at the group that gathered around the bar. I spot Abby holding a glass of orange juice trying to get closer to Cherri. I laugh at her actions, of course she chooses the coolest one to be her friend.
“Hi! I’m Abigail! You can just call me Abby,” she introduces holding out her hand.
“Uhh, sup? Name’s Cherri,” the pinkette answers reluctantly shaking her hand.
“Pleasure to meet you! We’ve met before but I never caught your name,” Abby asks the arachnid.
“Angel Dust. Angel’s fine, toots. Orange juice? What are you? 5?” Angel asks not exactly mocking her, but genuine confused by her choice.
“I’ve tried liquor before but it’s just not for me,” she replies not even bothered that she just got slighted.
“Fair enough,” Angel shrugs before walking to the bar to talk to Husk.
“So, uhh, your dad’s the radio demon?” Cherri asks trying to be polite.
“Indeed!” Abby answers enthusiastically, “We haven’t seen each other since I was a kid though.”
“Oh, why? What happened?” Cherri asks placing her drink down.
“He—uhh died when I was younger and by the time I was 15 I only had a few memories that I remember of him.”
“Oh shit. What about your mom though?”
“Mom also died when I was 14. So, I was on my own for a time in my life.”
“Well, at least we survived that shit. To being orphans!” Cherri exclaims raising her glass to Abby.
“Hurray?!” Abby panics confused and clinked their glasses together before doing the same as Cherri who downed her drink.
Alastor and I laugh while Niffty crawls on the railing between us.
“Ah, the celebratory night before a courageous last stand. It's been a surprising thrill to witness these wayward souls find connection. Almost makes one sentimental, eh, Niffty?”
 “I really like them, Alastor. They let me put on roach puppet shows without booing!” she replies enthusiastically, while I watched the two talk with a smile on my face.
“Ah, an enjoyable collective to be around. I admit one could get accustomed,” he sighs looking back down at them, particularly at Abby who was getting along with them quite well.
“I dub thee, King Roach,” NIffty proclaimed, putting on a bug crown on Alastor which he let her do and gave her a little bow.
“Oh, to understand your twisted little mind!” he comments before they started cackling where Alastor just played along with her. It made me sentimental of how he used to play house and have tea parties with Abby way back when.
Niffty scampers off with the other giving me the space and scoot over to him. “Will you be okay handling Adam?” I asked worriedly.
“It’ll be fine. I’ll be as careful as can. I’m not going to lose to him that easily,” he snorts, “You, however, I need you to back to me in one piece.”
I sighed and reminded him, “I think you forgot our deal, Al. I won’t exist if you don’t.”
He falls silent and tries to think. While I continue and place my hand on his chest, “You own my heart and my everything. This body beats for two. United as one, in sickness and in health—”
“Til’ death do us part,” we finish together. He wordlessly encases me in his arms and fall into a comfortable silence.
--timeskip
“Here they come. Get ready, everyone. We fight together!”
“Now! FOR YOUR SOULS!”
“Let's FUCK THEM UP!”
Alastor and I waited for them at the top of the hotel, watching as the angels begin their assault.
“Let the slaughter begin. AHAHAHAHAHAHA-HA!” Alastor yells swinging his microphone, summoning a black force field around us.
I left him and dove all the way from the rooftop and phasing to the floor, allowing me to transform into my giant demon form. With a terrifying grin and half lidded eyes that craved for chaos, I let out a shriek causing everyone to cover their ear giving Alastor to cut down the angels.
I raise my left and clenched it into a fist encasing every angel that aimed for me in a bubble immobilizing them, leaving them to Angel to shoot down. In that moment, Alastor’s shield disappeared leaving the silhouette of Adam with a sadistic smile.
He lounges for me while I only swiped him away with my hand causing him to tumble and crash on top of the hotel where Alastor was waiting for him. I left them and focused on helping the others, summoning my underlings to help the others.
After a while of killing angels, their numbers didn’t seem to waver making me curse under my breath feeling the weight of prolonging this fight for so long. I let out a pained shriek collapsing on myself and transforming back to my original form.
‘Shit. Is Alastor ok? What the hell happened?’ I thought starting to get delirious with the pain.
“MILEDY NO!”
“SUCK MY HOLY LIGHT, FUCKERS! YEAH!” Adam yells over our heads making me glare at him.
“What? Alastor was supposed to handle him. Oh no, he must be—”
White noise fills my ears as my vision starts to fail me leaving me in an unconscious state, where the last thing I see was tendrils wrapping around me.
---later
“Dad!”
“Alastor!!”
Everyone hugs him seeing his return that he was safe, however they fail to spot Miledy with him.
“Dad… Where’s mom?” Abby asks worried, trying to calm herself before she goes crazy looking for her mom.
“She’s fine. Just resting,” he assures giving his daughter a smile. ‘She has to be,’ he thought furrowing his brows before following the others.
<<flashback>>
“Al!” I scream getting away from an exorcist that was after me. She pushes me down and attempts to stab my chest. As soon as the steel met my skin, a tendril pushes her off me. I screamed as I see a large cut, opening up my chest. I watch mortified as I see my own beating heart.
“Miledy!”
Alastor rushes to me and knelt beside me. I hold onto him tightly confused and afraid, “Al, where are we? I don’t know what’s going on. I’m scared!”
His breathing stutters and tries to answer her, his eyes knit together and wore a frown. “It’s okay, you’re okay. I need to save you. You have to make a deal with me, Mel.”
I nodded my head despite not knowing anything he was saying. I just wanted to get out of here and be with him. Explain things to me carefully without my life being endangered and on the run.
“Mel, you will have to give your heart to me. So that no one will find your weakness, this is to keep you alive. Do we have a deal?” Alastor says to me seriously a faint green light emanating from him and his outstretched hand.
I nodded vehemently and shook his hand, “Deal.”
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TAGLIST:
@marxo5, @whaatttlaufey, @froggybich
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lady-of-the-english · 9 months ago
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Tommy and Grace and Marriage Part 1
Something that always struck when when originally watching, and then rewatching, Peaky Blinders was how much Tommy wanted to marry Grace and thus how resentful he was that "work" (i.e. Russians) crashed the day he'd been looking forward to for years.
We first get to see Tommy's desire back in 1919, in season 1, episode 5, after they sleep together. We see that he defines their relationship as a true partnership.
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After sleeping with her and next to her, for the first time since the war, he doesn't "hear the shovels against the wall," and he asks her to "help me with everything. The whole fucking thing. Fucking life...business. I found you and you found me. We'll help each other."
Tommy offers both a plea and a promise. With Grace, he found a true sense of love, home, and safety. He is willing to be his most vulnerable with her. As "people look different at home," in seeing her there, he hopes and asks to stay. For the first time, "life" comes before "business" with Tommy. He wants to provide her with all that she gives him. With Grace, he has the strength and courage to truly live.
The episode thematically ends with "Bring it On" by Nick Cave," emphasizing his sense of feeling strongest with Grace with the following lyrics:
"This garden that I built for you/that you sit in now and yearn/I will never leave it dear/I could not bear to return/and find it all untended/with the trees all bended low/this garden is our home, dear/and I got nowhere else to go/So, bring it on/Bring it on/Every little tear/Bring it on/Every useless fear."
In the following episode, Tommy shares with Grace his fantasy and plans - that they will share a life and "home."
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He promises her that at "the next family meeting, I'll make sure you're there." When Grace argues that she's not family, he says back, "That could change," implying a future proposal and marriage.
He continues that flirtation. When Grace asks when they can talk so she can confess to him, he teases her, saying, "Oh, is this how it's going to be, eh? You waiting at home for me, saying 'What time do you call this?'".
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Seeing that Grace is upset as she is wiping away tears, Tommy walks it back, reassuring that "I was joking" and that "I'm not talking about marriage," but I think that is a lie.
I think he is absolutely is thinking about marriage and the rest of their lives together. And he is afraid that he is scaring her off.
When Grace tells him, "When you come back from the races, I won't be here," he asks, "What are you talking about?" But he doesn't let her answer.
He immediately jumps in with reassurances, trying to convince her to stay and be with him. He assumes that she is afraid of being with him and that the life he can offer her isn't one she is used to or interested in.
His own insecurities and plans come out: "Grace, I know you weren't born to be with a man like me. But I'm turning things around." He emphasizes that he's going off to get the "biggest legal racetrack syndicates in the country and I'm going to close down some of that other stuff."
He touches her face to get her full attention and asks her to "remember" that her contract is with a legal "real limited company," asserting that he'll keep her safe and away from the illegal business that he wants to get out himself.
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When Grace replies that she "remembers everything," we see Tommy's full desperation. He swears, repeating, "I am going to make a success of this. I am going to make a success of it. I am."
And then he switches to what is most important to him about their relationship. If marriage scares her, then he asserts that "I'm not talking about marriage," as he is willing to wait for that. For he does stumble and hesitate after saying this. He trails off, saying, "I'm so..." as he doesn't know what to say, as marriage absolutely is what he was talking about at the start of this conversation.
Tommy gathers himself, defining the strengths of their relationship. As they hold hands, he reminds her that "we know each other. We can talk. We're the same."
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The end of the season emphasizes Tommy's heartbreak and confusion, but also the love they still have for each other and how they still know each other.
When he returns to Grace, she asks, "What exactly can I say?...if I tell you who I really am?" Will it matter and change anything?
Tommy replies, "I think I know who you are" highlighting his uncertainty. He finally knows her true identity and motives for being there, but he still also knows the true her since she shot the IRA man (both in revenge for her father and fear of Tommy dying the same way in my opinion).
Grace reiterates that idea. She argues that they know and love the true versions of themselves and the rest is "circumstance" and "just uniform."
And Tommy does seem to accept that. When she tells him, "I love you," he believes it despite the betrayal and lies. He tells her, "away it goes," but doesn't argue that it wasn't real in the first place.
With that belief in their love, we still see how Tommy holds onto the fantasy of their future, even if it is one that he no longer sees as feasible, at least in the near future.
Where before, he assured Grace that he'd begin shutting down some of the illegal businesses, with the mess of Kimber and Campbell and the loss of Danny, that becomes a "someday." The hope is still there that "someday I will throw this gun in the canal," and with it the implication that they can have the life and marriage he dreams of.
He reassures her multiple times that he does love her even if they can't be together now. He says that "we can say" they love each other as much as they want "but there is still no chance."
In his closing letter, he confesses that he never "loved" an enemy before her and that the idea of going to New York to be with her is "interesting" and appealing. In his heartbreak, he reverts to putting business first. In telling her no, he cites "responsibilities" as the reason he must stay.
But even in telling her no, the hope of someday is still there. He tells her he used to flip a coin to help him make decisions, and "perhaps that is what I will do again." The decision he just made is one that can easily change "within three days, " as the love they have for each other is real.
He ends the letter reassuring her that he does believe that she loves him as "Polly is never wrong about matters of the heart," and with that, he offers her "all my love."
Thus, the desire to marry Grace is not dead or forgotten, and season 2 will show us that time, in fact, does heal these wounds that leave him uncertain and unable to commit right now.
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