#the first time she realised he loves her as a mother is when he created something for her so hes trying to replicate that

[destructix]

normal reaction to have about ur new baby brother

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Calming the Emperor God

Geta x wife! reader

warning : hurt/comfort, kissing, cuddling, mention of murder and sickness

Summary : Rome seemed to turn on their rulers, what Caracalla compensated with more Colosseum fighting Geta had to face reality as much as he thought he was divine, he alone couldn't control everything. The demand of his head was only the beginning as the emperor sought advice and care in the arms of his wife.

info : A work for Geta I just wanted to give him a long hug, enjoy reading ;)

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Marriage, when you were a ruler of a empire, it was important to have a wife after your appointment, someone you loved or not, someone who could give you an heir.

He had even less regard for his father than his brother, a man driven by empathy and kindness as well as hope, a weak man whose only great deed was to father him and Caracalla with his mother, nothing else. That was the only reason for his damned father's last acts, a marriage.

A marriage three years ago, on his twentieth name day, he took her as his wife, a young lady of his own age from a noble house of the united kingdoms under Rome.

He hadn't thought much of her then, but when he looked at the sitautioon now, she was more than just his love, she was his shield, the judgement of the people and a light that all kinds of people looked up to so that the people wouldn't rise up in revolt.

She was a pillar at his side who could lead Rome, advise Caracalla and be there for him at the same time…the only thing that had not been created in all this time was an heir.

An inheritance that in theory the two emperors had in each other, but with each passing day Geta saw how bad things were for Caracalla, ,,The Holy Roman Empire will belong to the world, but three deaths would mean its end" he had said shortly after their wedding, at first still indifferent to her, even disgusted by her failure to conceive and paranoid that she would betray him.

But none of this mattered when he saw how gentle she was with his brother, how good she was at managing the senate and how understanding she was towards him every day.

,,My doubts were never about you, my husband, a marriage of the dead is beyond our influence and your circumstance worries me more than my own" she had admitted when she realised how bad things were for the emperors.

Who ruled a world empire, how easy she had had it, several siblings, no illnesses, her parents a long life and security, everything Geta and his brother didn't have.

Both had hardly received any training in warfare, politically she hardly knew what to do and they had no connection to the people.

From the moment they were born, they had already come too close to the sun and would never raise their wings again. She was a woman, a princess, aware of her role as a mother, but if she couldn't even be that, she would do anything to support her husband.

Taking her eyes from the marble floor that lay cold beneath her sandals, she looked back at her husband Geta presenting new proposals for the military, improvements and enhancements to a Senate that seemed barely interested.

They were strategies and proposals for which Geta had spent hours and nights in the library with her, he was trying so hard for his people, or at least for the world for now, the dream of a Rome that covered the world, it wasn't fair that the senate consisted only of fake snakes, but you couldn't kill them either.

No one is interested but us she thought and sat down again on Geta's throne when she heard a giggle next to her.

Caracalla was once again more than just bored by all this and began to play with his fingers, seeing that Geta gave her a quick glance and an unsaid ‘thank you darling’ seemed to come from his eyes, she rose to take care of Caracalla.

As much as the presence of both emperors was required, Caracalla was disturbed by the introduction of the laws the blond was probably about to rise herself, she put her hand on his shoulder, ,,We should leave Geta alone, how about a game?" she asked in a whisper and saw the grin widen. Already sending Caracalla forward.

She bowed to Geta who had paused in his speech, allowing everyone a brief moment to think, ,,I'm already longing for your liberating kiss of my sorrows" he murmured to her before placing a kiss on her cheek, a face with a ‘divine’ countenance looking back at her before she withdrew from the senate.

Once again, her god had to try to cope on his own, an event that occurred weekly and took its toll on him, for what was an emperor without preparation since childhood?

He was nothing.

Footsteps followed Caracalla, who was already pulling out his favourite figurines from a wicker basket, ,,The conquest of Rome with the crucifixions of the Christians!" he announced and she clapped as he told her everything in meticulous detail.

Not a game in the sense, but something amusing for him, especially when he could stab the little figures and she had to make the death noises that he always found extremely sweet, ,,Your memories are unfathomable and fascinating," she said and tapped him on the forehead.

He could hardly remember what was served for dinner yesterday, but he seemed to know such a battle going back hundreds of years completely by heart, it was the madness you couldn't control.

But that didn't matter because, apart from the battle, they played together with Dundus and in the afternoon she had to sing Caracalla a lullaby because otherwise he wouldn't go to bed, otherwise he would only cause more ‘problems’ like a small child.

One thing that hardly bothered her anymore she knew it would give Geta less to worry about and she had a few more hours of peace and quiet in which to organise her own things, ,,Sleep well little king" she whispered as she closed the door to his room and with a sigh made her way back to her own room.

Knowing that the meeting in the senate would take a long time she returned to her art of the gods, knowing that only they could help her and her family Appolo I pray to you for healing and beauty over my brother-in-law Caracalla and husband Geta she heard her own praying voice in front of her altar to Appolon the model for Geta.

In all the golden clothes he wore, even the make-up was dedicated to the god, but the gods seemed to have abandoned the brothers since the birth and not given her a blessing.

She spent the next few hours embroidering, writing and reading books, hoping to get advice from former emperors on how to cultivate fields to increase yields, which were getting lower and lower.

This was bad for the population of Rome, the army and the imperial family itself, who had to cope with all this without falling into the madness that Caracalla was making worse and worse.

The goblet of water next to her was refilled every now and then and the lamps and torches in her room were turned on by the servants when the sun had long since reached the horizon, she knew that the discussion in the Senate had to come to an end.

She was about to roll back the parchment and place it on the table when someone knocked on her door.

,,Yes?” she said, but instead of her beloved she only found a servant who bowed and replied, ,,Emperor Geta wishes to see you, he insists that you dine with him. His brother Emperor Caracalla has already been taken care of” the message read.

She sent the servant away with a wave of her hand and rose herself more hastily than she had intended and immediately headed for his chamber, which was only a corridor away.

So Caracalla is sleeping well it flashed through her mind casually as she realized that he had probably taken care of him as well. Geta was once again doing a lot more than he was supposed to, another reason why she loved him so much.

Stopping in front of the large double wooden door, the guards bowed before they opened the door for her and she was finally back with him, ,,Geta dearest I see you again,” she said happily and automatically went to the table where she had expected him to be for dinner but he wasn't there.

Turning around as she heard a sniffle she saw a golden curly head standing on the balcony, he was overlooking the city but ewa san his posture made her falter ,,Geta? Is everything alright?” she asked as she stepped out into the cool night and stood behind him, her fingers carefully resting against his back.

He was tense, trembling slightly but whether it was from the cold or the excitement she couldn't tell, ,,No one...none of these philistines listened, it led to nothing,” he finally said slowly as he turned to face her, the moon shining above him, the cold god watching over God's representation on earth.

The make-up on his face smudged, the golden light clothes wrinkled and not smooth and his blond hair completely disheveled. He did not have the madness of his brother, but as the sole ruler of an empire, such a burden lay heavily on him alone. ,,My husband, you know I couldn't be prouder, don't you?” she asked the superfluous question but knew he needed it.

The next moment he turned to her with a sigh and grasped her hands, she could see the watery eyes even in the faint moonlight, ,,The feelings are the same...but an emperor without his senate only with enemies and no support as it seems...is neither god nor man he is nothing” he finally spoke the truth and embraced her a little more strongly, slightly painfully and yet seeking help.

She understood him, understood him from the bottom of her heart, a pain, a helplessness she knew only too well.

Putting her hand on his cheek and looking at him for a moment, he entangled her in a kiss, she felt his hand at her side running over her hip, ,,Love you” she heard the murmured words as they broke away, as this wonderful fallen god looked at her so full of grace and love.

Her heart was bound with his as the brass rings made a soft muffled sound as their hands met again, the small smile on the god's lips as he looked at his love.

,,You are the most important thing to me and to Caracalla and I as your beloved swear to you that this will not be the end,” she assured him and saw the love that showed in the darkly painted eyes.

She saw him look away at Rome, the city behind him, his home and the empire that belonged to him, saw the nod, heard the intake of breath as he pulled her into another kiss. he may be destitute but he would never lose his family, his love, Geta knew that.

,,We'll show them together," he promised and led her next to him, leaving his hand linked with hers and seeming to promise her not only Rome, but the whole world, because together the imperial family of Rome would be able to do anything.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@potatoesenpaii , @thatnerdliv , @scorpiongirlsthings , @pxnx-kk

@the-a-word-2214 , @peakygirl1919 , @k-yurieee

[evergone]

Hey!! Idk know if you are taking requests right now but can you write a Theo x Hufflepuff reader imagine where the reader is always telling him to make friends from other houses. He finally does make friends but with a beautiful Ravenclaw and starts spending more time with her. The reader starts feeling insecure and ignores Theo. He soon realises that she is ignoring him and talks to her.

Btw I love your writing and can you please tag me if you do write it?

Too Friendly

Theodore Nott x reader

Warnings: Swearing, allusions to sex but no sex.

Description: The reader wants Theo to make more friends but when he does, she becomes insecure about their bond.

Sorry this took so long to get out, I'm in the middle of my final exams of high school so I don't have much time. I enjoyed writing this one. Thanks for the request @orphicmortala

“It’s sad, Theo, you’ve got, like, no friends!” You said as you tried your best to remember how to tie your yellow tie.

“What do you call Malfoy, then?” Theo asked from the bed.

“An accomplice,” you replied with that unique snark that Theo loved about you, “You need friends from other houses— Friends that aren’t just me.” You added those final words hastily before he could open his mouth in protest.

Theo rolled his eyes and beckoned you over. His hands glided over the folds of your tie with expertise, undoing the mess of a knot you’d created in order to do it up properly and perfectly. When he was done, he looked up at you with his gorgeous, oceanic eyes and the corners of his mouth where both his beautiful lips connected turned upwards. You uttered your thanks quietly as you resisted the primal urge to just not go to class at all and instead spend the whole day with him. Your mind wandered off to imagine being stuck between Theo’s checkered emerald sheets, but you brought it back to reality.

Fending off your lustful desires as well as a nun would, you bid adieu to Theo and hurried out of his room and the Slytherin common room. On your way out, you dodged the teasingly crude jokes and names that Theo’s friends tossed towards you and told Pansy that she was no better than yourself (you’d seen the way she snuck out of that empty classroom after Draco a couple days earlier, her hair and clothes all dishevelled and her thighs rubbing together uncomfortably).

The whole day, Theo dwelled on your words. While you weren’t exactly dating or in a relationship, he always found himself bound to your every word and every whim. You seemed to dictate his life in a way that you certainly shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help but listen to you. So, in Arithmancy, he didn’t sit next to Blaise as he usually did, instead electing to sit with Lisa Turpin, a Ravenclaw girl he’d seen you talk to a few times.

She looked at him in confusion, “Did you need something?”

He withheld the instinct to say some snide remark and instead replied, “I thought I’d make a new friend today.”

“On some random Tuesday… in our Sixth year?” Her face contorted to expose her obvious disgust.

“Merlin’s cock and balls, I’m trying to be nice, Turpin!” Theo frowned and picked up his bag to go sit elsewhere.

Turpin grabbed his wrist as he stood up and her lips made a thin line as she pulled him back down to the seat. Her brows knitted together like a homemade sweater and she breathed out a sigh of defeat.

“No, it’s okay, sorry,” she said, “Sit here if you’d like.”

Over the next week, Theo made some serious efforts to get to know Turpin despite his friends’ obvious, loud verbal opposition. After that first Arithmancy class, Blaise had practically torn him to shreds with his massive speech on house loyalty and the horrible impact that you were clearly having on him. Daphne had recited the same speech her mother had given to her on her first day of her first year at school about how interrelations with students from the lesser houses was a gateway drug to blood sympathy (she’d given him the same speech when he started his little thing with you). And Pansy, Merlin’s beard, Pansy was furious.

Pansy had constructed this whole idea in her mind that you hated that Theo was talking to Turpin. She called it “cheating” which Theo had adamantly disagreed with. He wasn’t having sex with Turpin, in fact, he had absolutely zero romantic interest in her. He barely even liked her. The only thing the two had in common was Arithmancy and every time they hung out they talked about it until there was no more Arithmancy to talk about. It was, quite frankly, boring. Turpin was boring.

“It’s emotional cheating,” said Pansy in a huff as she and the others started towards the Great Hall for Monday breakfast.

“Emotional cheating?” Theo asked skeptically.

���Yes, Nott, emotional cheating,” she nodded, “And it’s hurting Y/n’s feelings. That’s why she hasn’t spoken to you all week.”

His gaze snapped to focus on Pansy whose black eyes were ablaze with the feminine rage of a girl’s best friend, “How do you know she hasn’t spoken to me all week?”

Pansy smirked, her honey red lipstick bright against her pale skin, and shrugged. She knew you hadn’t spoken to him all week because you wouldn’t shut up about it. In Divination on Wednesday afternoon, you’d all but assaulted Pansy with questions about Theo’s newfound interest in Turpin. All of which Pansy had no helpful responses to.

“Is he flirting with her?” You asked.

“Maybe, I don’t know, it’s not like they sit with us,” said Pansy, struggling to focus on the crystal ball with all your chatter.

“Why not? Why don’t they sit with you? Are they trying to be private?” You pushed almost frantically.

“Uh, possibly? Honestly, I just think he knows we don’t like her,” she explained.

“Why don’t you like her? Is she a bitch?” You frowned and then quickly added in a judgmental tone, “Or are you just being blood supremacists?”

“Is she a mudblood?” Pansy stopped working to stare at you.

You smacked her hand and she hissed, “I don’t know her that well. Don’t say that.”

When Theo and his friends finally arrived at the Great Hall, he searched the tables for your face. While most people usually stuck to their house’s table, you were a social butterfly and loved to flutter from table-to-table to talk to all of your many friends. Sometimes he wondered how you weren’t a prefect despite your popularity and the respect the younger years gave you. His eyes found Turpin first and she beamed and waved him over, but he blatantly ignored her. Pansy and Daphne watched on with delight as the girl cringed with embarrassment and turned back to her meal with bright red ears.

A spot of h/c hair floated above a robe lined with yellow and he abandoned his friends to go to you. You were standing at the end of the Hufflepuff table (not an unusual place to find you, but your favourite table was always the Slytherin one), and you were utterly consumed by a tale you were sewing for your housemates Hannah Abbott and Justin Finch-Fletchley.

“Y/n,” Theo spoke and his deep, smokey voice tore you straight out of your conversation, “Can we talk?”

Your eyebrows quivered and your blinking sped up as you took his appearance in for the first time all week. You hadn’t gone so long without speaking to him in at least three years (you got into an argument in your third year about the petrifications) and hearing his voice and seeing him so close was like throwing a former alcoholic into a sea of wine. There was nothing you wanted more than to indulge in him. But Hannah and Justin were glaring at him like hawks, or guard dogs, whichever was more intimidating.

“Um,” you glanced back at your friends and Hannah shook her head slightly, she’d never much liked Theo, “Sure.”

Hannah rolled her eyes and whispered something barely audible to Justin. Something about a “love-fucked pushover.” You ignored her. Theo took you to a pair of seats far from any prying ears and held your hands in his.

“You know I don’t like Turpin, right?” He said quietly.

You scoffed, “Yeah, right. And that’s why you spent all week with her.”

“I spent all week with her because you told me to!” He laughed with salt that spread itself over your wounded heart.

“Did I just? Because I really don’t remember saying ‘Hey, Theo, you know how I like you so much? I actually want you to go talk to another girl,’” you said sarcastically.

He held back a grin as best he could but the amusement glistened in his eyes and on his rosy, mole-spotted cheeks. His hand came up to your brow and massaged the frown out from between your eyebrows as you fluttered your eyelashes at him in the way you knew made him melt inside.

“I wanted to make friends for you,” he told you with that soft, romantic tone he used in bed.

“Don’t,” you ordered, “You’re Theodore Nott, you aren’t supposed to be friendly.”

For the first time in a week, he got a good look at you. He hadn’t realised how much he missed the sight of your h/l h/c hair and the way it framed your stunning face so perfectly that you appeared to have stepped right out of a portrait. He hadn’t realised how much he missed how your eyes, an elegant e/c and perpetually glossy as if always on the verge of tears, examined every centimetre of his face. He hadn’t realised how much he missed doing your tie up for you until he saw it tied like a bow around your neck.

“I’m friendly to you,” he said as his hands pulled at the end of the tie and it fell apart over your chest.

“And that’s all you need, I think,” you whispered pleasantly and pressed a loving kiss to his lips as he looped the tie around itself twice and pushed the end through the gap, tying it perfectly.

[beloveds-embrace]

More shifter Au thoughts because my brain just does not stop for one second. Shifter!Reader doesnt know what nesting is, they grew up in a home without love, her parents marriage and her subsequent birth a thing of politics and power (both her parents coming from powerful shifter families) so she never saw her parents nest despite being shifters. So she doesn't know what is, nevermind how to do it and she was the only shifter in her friend group so she never saw their parents or them displaying the behaviour. And then she meets Shifter!TF141 and gets really close to them and starts to fall for the boys. Once their mission is over, she invites them all to her families villa in the French country side for some sun and realaxation and its private so Simon doesnt have to worrry about anyone seeing his mask or his face. They all agree and set up a date, shes there a few days earlier helping the staff set up and making sure everythings perfect. But now she has this urge, no the absolute need for sofr throws and pillows to be lining the sofas and beds, the pillows pilled up high and in a circle, almost like a fort she would build when she was a child, especially in her room. The staff just watch on with smiles on their face and whisper to one another giggling about in love she is. One of the oldest staff, an older woman who had been with her since was a child approaches her and talks to her about it, realising she didn't even know why she was doing it, bringing her a cup of tea and holding her hands gently as she explains nesting "you're trying to make it safe and comforting for your mates, to show them you'd be a good homemaker and mother" Reader just looks at her like a shocked pikachu and keeps muttering about "her mates", she didnt even realise just what had happened in her time with TF141 and how much she had actually feel for them. When the boys arrive, they're in awe of the beautiful house but they're more in awe of the different nests she has created throughout the houses. Price is the first to approach her, hand landing gently on her face as he dips his nose down to her neck letting a comforting rumble that almost sounded like a purr bleed from his chest, one the other boys mimiced as they stepped closer to her, circling her body, "you do all this for us love" she nods her head meekly as Jonny places a soft kiss to her head from behind, his hands finding her hips and his chest placed against hers so she can feel the vibrations from his purr, "its perfect bonnie". She tilts her head back against Johnnys chest as Gaz places his head on her shoulder, twisted slightly so he place a soft kiss against her pulse point, to give him more room and her eyes dart to Simon, standing a small distance away and she reaches her hand out to him which he gladly takes and presses a small kiss against her palm and then her kuncles before stepping closer and plaving it on his chest right above his heart.

Safe to say the nest in her room was broken in that night

I can’t hoard this golden ask anymore 😔 godddd i love this so, so very much?? The concept of never actually being familiar with any of your more domestic instincts to the point you don’t know shit abt them but you still fond yourself feeling loved enough where you can still partake in them <333

But also the way the 141 will just be so?? Happy?? Proud and smug bastards, because no one else has made you feel like thay except for them and they are the only ones allowed to see all these pretty little nests you’ve made all over the place just to appease them. They love it and they love you <33

[percabethsong]

Ok, I wanted to talk about Annabeth being the reincarnation of Odysseus.

First of all, yes, Annabeth and not Percy. Here's why: they have the same fatal flaw (hubris), fight in similar ways (relying heavily in words and tricks), as well as this comparison being made in the Sea of Monsters itself several times, in which Annabeth (Odysseus) calls herself Nobody (again) to the Cyclops, is the one that wanted to tied herself to listen to the sirens (I know that part was changed in Epic, but let's pretend not for the sake of the intention of the comparison in the book), etcetera. In addition, I know Percy going insane when someone hurts Annabeth is something the whole fandom agrees, which is something he and Odysseus share, but let's be honest, Annabeth does not play about him neither. I would say she went even more nuts about him missing in HOO than he did when she went missing in Titan Curse. Percy could also totally be Penelope, considering their loyalty.

That being said, what I wanted to focus on this post is Athena, and how she made the same mistake again with another version of her protégée, this time her daughter. If we consider that the events of Epic are what happened in PJO, not only Athena (or Minerva, so close enough) abandoned Odysseus again in The Mark of Athena, but she said to Annabeth that she wished Odysseus was there because he would understand the map (that's a line about that in the book). She compared Annabeth to Odysseus, not realising they are the same soul.

Also, if the events of Epic happened in PJO, then it means Athena gave up of creating a world where people held each other with a little more empathy, like she said she wished to do in "I can't help but wonder". She had probably tried for a few centuries, became kinder. I even think that might be why she started to have demigods children: to a child of Athena to be born she needs a real connection with a mortal, which she didn't allow herself before Odysseus. However, with the pass of time (my personal belief is that the Romans treatment towards her would be a main factor in that), she went back to be colder. She has a ruthless father who didn't support her mission to be kinder and told her to be away from her kids, as well as humans who didn't pay her the same respect as they used to.

Then it came Annabeth, this child, her child, who is her favourite, and part of that it's because she reminds her of her favourite champion, her first friend, even if she doesn't acknowledge that. Unaware to her, they are the same person, and this time she's his mother. This version of Odysseus looks up to her so much because her mortal family couldn't understand her and she still carries the admiration Odysseus felt towards her, but without any of the bad memories.

And yet.

Yet Athena breaks her (his) trust again. Yet Athena disapproves Percy (Penelope), who in any life, Odysseus (Annabeth) would do anything for. More than that, Athena is one of the main reasons that Annabeth took so long to accept Percy as the love of her life.

So Annabeth (Odysseus) resents her again, and when Athena realises who her daughter is (because I am sure she would eventually) it's already too late. She made the same mistake, and she can hear a voice in her head calling her "Selfish and prideful and vain", but this time, this voice sounds like Annabeth's.

[aryxchse]

who did this to you? | percy jackson x daughter of hera! reader.

a / n : didn't wrote about my husband in a long time now

warnings : blood mentioning, passing out, dark-ish percy, cursing, enemies to lovers, book percy is my babe fr

percy was never the guy who judged the book by it's cover.

he had every type of friends. clarisse, who was the daughter of ares, the second god he despised the most. annabeth, which was his father's arch nemesis athena's daughter. thalia, the girl he couldn't get along at the first but realised they were same in different fonts, which was the daughter of zeus. also the arch nemesis of his father.

he loved his friends deeply. he was loyal to them to death and he always believed that they weren't their parents. until he met you.

you were the daughter of.. well.. hera. ranking the first in his 'i-would've-killed-if-i-had-the-power.' list. and ares with a red marker under her.

the moment you felt his judgy and awkward aura around you, you decided that you should hate him. you tried to love him, which was easy, believe me. but you always thought he hated you too, so you get along with it.

percy jackson never hated you. he was just scared from you. scared from the way you sometimes did acted like your mother. and if you would've turned out like her some day.

but you never did. you were always the same gentle, sweet, caring and motherly girl. at least to others. percy jackson was just keeping up with your attitude, the attitude he created unknowingly.

until one day, you came back to argo ii from your quest with jason and annabeth, all bruised up. jason was carrying you on his back while annabeth held your hand tightly, tears perking in her eyes.

"percy, hazel, everyone! come here please!" annabeth shouted as jason put you down gently. you rested your back to some wood wall that you didn't recognised at the moment. annabeth still held your hand, and you smiled. blood running down from your lip. "annie, m' okay." you mumbled, squezzing the girls hand.

"don't talk love," annabeth caressed your hair as the others rushed up to the main deck. hazel rushed to your side, giving you some ambrosia.

"what happened?" you heard percy ask, voice weirdly shaking. you closed your eyes and the sun suddenly was gone with someone's shadow. "hey, y/n, look at me," someone cupped your face. you slowly opened your eyes and saw percy staring at you. he had that worried face you loved so much, but never saw directed to you until now.

"who did this to you?" he asked, also looking at annabeth and jason. "who did this to her, jason? annabeth?" he asked them. you heard jason sigh.

you heard some mumbles coming from jason before you fell asleep, too tired to keep staying up.

when you woke up, someone was holding your hand. it was annabeth, who smiled the moment she saw you woken up. you smiled back, warming up with her caring behavior. "hey annie."

"hey sweetie," she said, getting up from the chair and sitting next to you on the bed. "how are you feeling?"

"great," you answered. and you did feel great. you were all bandaged and the ambrosia you ate earlier gave you energy. "what happened after i passed out? what happened to the monster?"

annabeth had a grin on her face that you saw only in special occasions. shipping kinda occasions. "well, after jason told everything that happened to percy- you remember he's asking you who did it right?" she asked.

"yeah, yeah i do. the last thing i heard was jason mumbling," you explained and she nodded. "after percy finding out who did it, and you passing out at the moment, he uh.. destroyed the monster. yeah, i think that's the perfect word for it."

she giggle at the shocked expression on your face. "i don't think the monster will reborn even, that's how crazy he went."

annabeth caressed your hair, the gentle expression she usually had coming back. "aside from the jokes, he's really worried about you. you passing out did not helped him. i could send him here, if you want."

"that would be wonderful annie," you finally managed to whisper, smiling at the girl. she returned the smile and gave your hand one last squeeze before getting out from your quarter.

not so after, percy ran into your room and closed the door behind him. "thank gods," he whispered, rushing to you. he embaced you in a hug that could easly broke someone's ribs. but you only chuckled, hugging his neck. "hello shark boy, missed me?"

you meant this question to be a joke to wipe away the awkward sitiuation between you two, but he seemed to get this seriously. "so much." he whispered into your neck, caressing your hair gently. "thought i lost you for a sec, pretty."

the pretty was new. he called you many things, not mean ones of course, but many things. the pretty was new, and it wasn't meant to annoy you. this was new too.

"nah, you're not getting away from me that easy jackson." you chuckled, inhaling his scent. the first time you actually hugged him, and finally find out what was the fuss about his hugs. they were the best. the ones that made you feel safe from everything, even from your thoughts.

"i know, it was stupid of me. i should've guessed the y/n i know wouldn't leave that easly." he finally pulled away, quickly wiping his face with the back of his hand. was he crying?

"hey perce," you finally looked at his eyes. he never saw this soft expression on you, at least not looking at his way. at that moment, he was scared of what he could do to see you looking at him like that all the time.

"yeah?" he asked gently, holding your hands in his. you thought you should return the care, so you caressed his hands with your thumbs.

"thank you." you said. "for, in annabeth's words, destroying that monster. and for getting worried about me."

he smiled. a geniune smile you only saw giving to his friends. "anytime angel, would fight the gods for you." he said, looking at you with puppy eyes.

"i'm sorry for acting like the way i did," you said, ignoring the butterlies dancing in your stomach. "thought you hated me."

"hate you?" he shouted a bit, squeezing your hands. "i never hated you. i thought you hated me."

"i did!" you bluntly said, and that earned a chuckle from him. "because you judged me because of my mother!"

"no! i swear i didn't mean that to happen," he said quickly, sitting close to you. "i was just scared you'd be all.. mean like your mother. but i realised you weren't and i was so late to fix everything. you were already hating me."

you only sighed, and looked at your intertwined hands. it made you touch your foreheads, and he leaned to you gladly. "i was so scared i lost you before i even made it up." he whispered.

"don't worry, i'd haunt you." you laughed, and he laughed along with you.

you pulled away your one hand to caress his cheek, which he accepted the touch happily. his gaze suddenly flickered to your lips, and the next second he was leaning in.

"would you like to know another fact?" he said, grinning like a devil. you nervously smiled, thumb caressing his jawline. "what?"

"i wanted to kiss you for a sickingly long time now," he said quietly, leaning in until your nose touched. you prayed to every olympian that he wouldnt hear your heartbeat, beating crazy inside your ribs.

"yeah? i knew you had a thing for me," you teased, holding his chin in your fingers. he only continued grinning, his breath hitting your lips. "you were stupidly obvious about it."

"i don't give a single fuck," he breathed out before smashing his lips onto yours, eagerly kissing you. his hands cupped your face and you gripped his shirt.

the kiss felt like it was bound to happen. like it was a prophecy becoming true. you secretly knew this would happen eventually, because he indeed was stupidly obvious about his feelings. you always thought percy jackson hated you, but everytime you turned your head, he would be there. standing by your side.

you pulled away only to breath, lips still few inches away. "i had a thing for you too, if you couldn't tell." you chuckled. he let out a breathless laugh, annoyingly hot.

"yeah i figured it out," he said. then he finally looked away from your lips to stare deep in your eyes, grinning. "you're stuck with me now angel. prepare yourself to see me everytime, attached to you by the hip."

"when did i never?"

[louisupdates]

INTERVIEW: Lottie Tomlinson: we lost our mum and sister. Louis saved me

At the age of 20, the sister of One Direction singer Louis had already lost her mother, Johannah, and sister Félicité. Now 25, the social media star has written a book about how they coped

Alice Thomson | Tuesday July 23 2024, 5.00pm BST, The Times

Losing Mum was so hard. I was only a teenager but at least I knew that her death was a possibility, even though she didn’t accept it. She was 47 and had cancer. But when my sister died three years later, I was on this hotel balcony in Bali and I was screaming, ‘No, my baby sister, no.’ The pain was indescribable. I kept thinking, ‘Why me? This can’t be happening again. When is this going to end?’ ”

We are sitting on Lottie Tomlinson’s immaculate white sofa in her pristine white house in Chislehurst, southeast London, where she is curled up in tiny shorts with a perfect tan and impeccably applied make-up. But her French manicured nails are digging so hard into the sofa I think they might snap, the heart tattoo on her minuscule wrist is throbbing and her eyelashes are clogged with tears.

Her life sounds blessed. The influencer has 4.8 million Instagram followers waiting for her to dispense advice on how to apply mascara; the fake tan brand, Tanologist, that she launched at 19 has gone global; and she has a devoted fiancé, Lewis Burton, who runs a luxury concierge business and whose former girlfriend was the late Caroline Flack. They have an adorable son called Lucky, who is dripping ice cream on her marble counters. Her new book is also called Lucky Girl; her older brother is Louis Tomlinson of One Direction and she was touring the world with the band as a make-up artist at 16.

But after her mother died when she was 18, Tomlinson was left looking after her younger sister and two sets of twin siblings, aged eight and two, while creating her businesses, and trying to process her grief. Her father had left their home in Doncaster years before after a battle with alcohol. “Dad had a drinking problem. We’d see glimpses of his good side but he let us down,” she says. “I ended up trying to take care of him rather than the other way round.”

When her mother died, life felt bleak, “I lost the one person who loved me unconditionally, and then when my sister Fizz [Félicité] died of an accidental overdose, I thought I could never be happy again,” she says. “I found the lead-up to Mother’s Day devastating without my sister as well. It was a constant reminder that I was now different from my friends. In my dreams, my mum was still there; she was alive. I woke up feeling comforted, only to realise that she’d gone.”

Tomlinson, who is now 25 and a patron of the bereavement charity Sue Ryder, moves easily between telling you how to apply the best tan and how to talk about death. She cares passionately about both subjects and takes them equally seriously, worried that I’ve never tried a bronzer or used foundation before asking how I coped when my mother died during the pandemic. Her soft Yorkshire accent is both reassuring and no-nonsense.

Born near Doncaster, she was only two when Fizz was born and six when the first twins arrived. “I’ve always been the big sister — Fizz and I each got one and then more twins six years later.” While Louis had his own space, the girls all shared one room with bunk beds. “It was chaos, but my mum, Johannah, was a midwife and loved being pregnant and having so many babies,” she explains. “I used to be in awe of the way she could feed the twins at once, one on each hip. She would do the night shifts, while I held the fort at home.”

Within a few years, Tomlinson would be touring America, Asia and Europe, flying first class with Louis, part of the biggest boy band in the world, but until she was 15, the family had only ever gone to France once a year all packed into a seven-seater car, with her mother’s new partner, snacks laid out in the middle. They stayed in a caravan park. On a Sunday, a treat was to go to their mother’s hospital to see the babies.

While Louis just wanted to sing, play the guitar and listen to Oasis, the girls were obsessed with make-up. “From the age of 12, I struggled academically, but I loved cropped clothes and my mum’s highlighters and mascaras.” She learnt how to apply everything from YouTube tutorials, rather than doing algebra. “We didn’t have much money — we sometimes couldn’t afford to top up the electricity meter so used candles — but everything my mum earned she spent on us. We all looked immaculate — I remember her being horrified when I dyed my hair orange. So it was lovely later when we could treat her.”

Saturday nights were spent watching The X Factor. “My mother and brother kept applying; in 2010, he got in and the whole family went for the audition. We believed in him, but we never thought it would go that far.” One day the family were going to the live shows, the next the boy band was formed with Harry Styles, Zayn Malik, Niall Horan and Liam Payne. “He was 18. For my mum it was a big shock. It was all so sudden. The press and fans were in our front garden every day.”

The older twins had already made their first TV appearances — they sound like Doncaster’s Von Trapps. “My mother was gently pushy,” Tomlinson says, smiling at the thought. “When I didn’t get good enough GCSEs to stay at school, she sent me off to join Louis on tour as work experience. I was so scared. I remember her ringing up Lou [Teasdale], their hair and make-up artist, and saying, ‘Lottie has not got through to sixth form; she’s going to come and assist you.’ I was in the car going, ‘No, please don’t.’ But it ended up being the best thing that happened to me. I went for a week and stayed two years. Lou and I are still so close.”

Suddenly, the two eldest Tomlinson children were circling the world, eating room service and ducking the paparazzi hanging out of helicopters taking snaps. “At first Louis didn’t really want his little sister gate crashing his new rock-star life, but now it feels like the best time of our lives — we experienced that craziness together,” she says.

The teenage Tomlinson found it harder to cope with being photographed wherever she went. “I had some puppy fat which made me very self-aware, and the filler culture was coming in and I felt I had to look perfect.” She had her lips done first at 17. “Then I became addicted: cheek filler, jaw filler, more make-up, blonder hair, slimmer and more tanned. My mum thought I looked perfect, but I was always searching.”

Five years later, when she became pregnant with Lucky and her lips started to swell and crack, she realised she didn’t need the enhancements any more. “I had everything removed, the false eyelashes too. It was liberating.” She kept her boob job, however. “That was just enhancement,” she says laughing. “The rest radically changed the way I looked. My breasts also got huge when I was pregnant and it was a bit painful. But I still breastfed. I loved carrying my child. I felt fantastic even when I was sick and exhausted.”

She leans forward, wraps her bronzed arms around her stomach and whispers, “I am pregnant again. We don’t know yet if it’s a boy or girl. It’s only 13 weeks, so this is the first time I’ve said it publicly. I think I want a big family. I loved having Lucky but after a year I wanted to give him siblings.”

Tomlinson’s influencer career began once she established herself on tour. Soon everything she did, even dying her roots rainbow-coloured, went viral and fashion companies from Asos to Dior wanted in on it. “I was just going for it. I couldn’t believe the money I was making and spending — money I didn’t know existed as a child.”

Then suddenly her mum came home from holiday with flu. “She didn’t want to get out of bed. The doctors quite quickly told her she had leukaemia and she went straight to London for treatment. It all happened so fast. I remember being in London at work and getting a call from her partner — she couldn’t say the words herself, it was too hard for her.” The family were told it was treatable. “We kept so much hope.”

Her mother asked the family to keep her illness secret. “It was hard because you feel so isolated, but I understood. Louis was in the public eye and she didn’t want him questioned. She was determined to fight it and didn’t want everyone pitying her. My friends noticed I was acting differently for a few months. But I wanted to respect her wishes. It was her one request.”

She also dropped everything to go back to Doncaster to help her grandparents with the twins. “The younger ones were two and I wanted to keep everything as normal as possible. I can’t imagine what my mum was feeling leaving her kids to go to hospital.

“I would take them down and treasure seeing her — we tried to keep it light, no serious conversation. The only way Mum could cope was to keep it normal. Then, when the doctors said the transfusions hadn’t worked, she came home to die.”

Tomlinson tries to sound matter-of-fact. “We went to see her in hospital in Sheffield and the next morning we woke up and were told she had died. We felt numb. We didn’t know what to do with ourselves. Now I am involved with the Sue Ryder charity, I am surprised we were offered no support or counselling at all, from the GP, the teachers, the professionals. They all kept away.” Her nan and grandad picked up the pieces.

It’s not surprising she can’t remember the funeral. “I just remember getting really drunk to numb the pain. I couldn’t come to terms with it. I can’t even remember how we organised it. My instinct was to take over as the eldest girl and step into my mum’s shoes so that is what I did.” Meanwhile, her older brother, who was launching his solo career, ensured there was enough money. “He’s incredibly generous. We looked after each other.”

Tomlinson returned to London months later, after her grandmother said she needed to become a role model for her siblings. Her younger sister Fizz worried her most. “She was very academic — she got straight A’s without trying — but she always said she felt different. She was bottling her grief for so long; it was too much and made her turn to other things. I think Mum’s death destroyed her. Only my mum seemed to understand her. If she had been offered some help at the start, things might have been different.”

Meanwhile, Tomlinson’s self-tanning brand was soon being sold in Los Angeles, New York and Australia, while her own fanbase grew; she hardly ever needed to pay for drinks, meals or holidays. However, she finds the term influencer obnoxious. “I don’t want to act like I tell people what to do. I am more of a content creator,” she explains. “I get paid by brands to create content for their clothes or beauty products and promote that to my followers. I also wanted my own business. I was quite aware that, at the end of the day, I was just working with an app. That’s why I started Tanologist with my business partner. I was always using tanning treatments that would end up turning my sheets orange and my face would break out in spots — this is more natural.”

Louis was also forging his career as a solo artist, eventually creating the song Two of Us about his mother’s death. “We were always so proud of Louis and what he was doing. We were not going to match up to being a global superstar, but we didn’t want to — ‘successful’ looks different for everyone,” she says.

But her sister Fizz was slipping and struggling. “She was old enough to do what she wanted at 19; she was partying and taking stuff to numb everything. She did go into rehab but to me it didn’t feel like an addiction problem, but a way to blank out her grief.” When Tomlinson was invited to Bali, she asked Fizz whether she wanted her to stay behind. “She said she was OK, and then it happened while I was away,” she says. (Fizz accidentally overdosed on cocaine, an anxiety drug and painkillers, her inquest found.) “Louis called me…” She stops talking.

The shock of a second death must have been devastating. She doesn’t speak for a minute while she twists her huge diamond engagement ring. “We weren’t mentally prepared,” she eventually says. “I can’t even remember if the two funerals were in the same church. I think grief has affected my memory a lot and that’s quite common. Grief is such a powerful emotion; it takes up a lot of your brain.”

Five years later, she now knows how to remain positive. “I had an amazing mum for 18 years. I have the most amazing family, my little boy and my career, and that is because of her. The same with Fizz — I had an amazing sister. It’s heartbreaking they aren’t with us any more, but they are together and they are looking out for me,” she says, sounding as though she is repeating a mantra.

Having a baby made her feel closer to them both. “He was a boy — it’s funny, he actually looks a lot like Louis did — and I thought, this is what my mother must have felt. But then I had so many questions I couldn’t ask, even more because she was a midwife.”

Her biggest problem was her terror that something terrible would happen to her son. “I became fixated [on the idea that] something bad would happen to him, so I couldn’t sleep. You go to the worst-case scenario, because that’s happened to you twice, to two of the closest people in your life. I couldn’t turn the lights off at night; I needed to see him all the time. Luckily, it calmed down quite quickly.”

We are still flitting between her story and advice on make-up, exercise and clothes.

“I like sharing advice. If a child lost their mother, I would say there is no magic answer. But the point of this book is to show that you can have tragic things happen and still keep going.”

What would the 25-year-old now say to her younger self, struggling at her second funeral at the age of 20? “I would say, ‘You are going to be OK; you will live a nice life.’ I didn’t think I could. I thought this will be a really sad, lonely life without my mum and sister. I wouldn’t have believed then that I could be happy again. But it would have been nice to hear.”

Lucky Girl by Lottie Tomlinson (Bonnier, £22). To order a copy go to timesbookshop.co.uk. Free UK standard P&P on orders over £25. Special discount available for Times+ members

[charliedawn]

Hi hi!

It's been a while since over requested anything but I've been keeping track of your posts and I am still in love with your writing style!!

I was wondering if I could have the slashers with a nurse wo already has 5 kids but is a single mom?

When it comes to her kids safety she turns into a complete animal like mama bear style....

Her children are smart in their own ways and are very close nit, but they always look out for their mother.

Thanks if you do this!

❤️ anon

P.s please take care of yourself! And drink lots of water and eat healthy meals!!!

Jason would be quietly protective, his natural instinct to shield others kicking in as he watched the kids play. He might not say much, but he’d be the first to step in if any danger appeared. He’d probably even enjoy the occasional moments when one of the kids quietly sits beside him, without fear, just being present.

But…Jason is afraid of children. He knows they can be cruel. So he wouldn’t approach the kids if he can help it. He would first need reassurance that they are good kids who wouldn’t be mean to him. I think your kids would be safe with him, but be careful as Jason is still a kid in his head and kids usually do not realise what they are doing until it is too late…

He might get scared.

Bo would put on his usual tough front, pretending that he’s unfazed by all the noise and mess. But over time, you’d notice him helping fix things around the house without asking, muttering under his breath that he’s “just keeping the place from falling apart.” And you might catch him joking with the older kids, giving them advice like an older brother might. He would eventually warm up to the kids. (And they would watch Cars together cause duh…cars. 🤣)

Your kids wouldn’t necessarily see him as a threat cause they know his true love is cars.

Pennywise and Penny would likely be the most chaotic around the kids, trying to keep them entertained in their unique way. They’d take turns clowning around (literally), teasing and laughing, but always making sure the kids were safe. Pennywise might grumble about all the work, but deep down, he’d appreciate the chaos that reminds him of his bond with Penny. Also, they would create illusions and Penny would even turn himself into a poney to have some fun with the kids. They would hence learn to be more friendly and to care for your family—as much as they care about you.

Freddy Krueger might pretend to be too cool to care at first, but he’d surprise you by keeping the nightmares at bay for your little ones. He’d even show them how to stand up for themselves, all while cracking jokes and making a game out of it. He’d never admit it, but being part of a family dynamic might soften him a little, especially when he sees how much he’s grown fond of the little monsters. 😆

Freddy *takes one of the kids and smiles* : "If you think you can just bat your eyes at me and pout and get me to do whatever the hell you want…you got another thing coming, kiddo."

All your kids start doing it and he pretends to get shot and fall.

"Aaaah ! Curse y’all for ganging up against me !"

Vincent Sinclair and Jason would be silently helpful, stepping in to create art for the kids or fix broken toys. They’d rarely speak, but their actions would show how much they’ve come to care for both you and your family. Both their gentle side would emerge more often when they’re with your younger children, especially if they showed interest in their work.

Michael Myers would be a constant presence, quietly observing and occasionally stepping in when needed. He might bond with one of the quieter kids, appreciating their silence and the way they understand each other without needing to talk. He’d be fiercely protective of your family, seeing you and the children as his own responsibility. He would also organise cooking or baking sessions for the kids—managing to make them all participate and teach them a thing or two—in case you do not have the time to cook for them.

And Brahms Heelshire—though not used to such a lively household—would probably hover around you, trying to be helpful while also seeking attention. He’d keep a close eye on everything, particularly the younger kids, and would often look to you for reassurance, wanting to be part of this new family.

Once approval give though ? He’d quickly share his many toys and board games with the kids—eager to make some new friends. He would also be happy if they invited him to play with them and end up missing them when they have to leave. He’s also be happy to receive hugs from the kids and beg you repeatedly to bring them back.

[hibiscusseaart]

huge ass post with MadaTobi Babies

its finally done, its almost 1 am, I started at 7 pm

OK SO HERE THEY ARE

So a little lore and then I'm gonna introduce them.

As you may remember from my earlier post, Tobirama (they married when he was 19) after the marriage, decided to create a child to tie Madara to him and the village stronger just in case Madara would try to leave the village. He couldn't destroy the village if there's his kid running around, right?

So Tobirama started learning biology pretty early in their marriage + Itama (@oh-no-its-bird 's one) helped a lot too. Mito helped with the seals to make an incubator. Tobirama didn't want a surrogate mother just because he was afraid that Madara would get attached to the mother of his children and he didn’t want that (plus he's jealous but doesn't realise it 🤭).

He created some sort of very real transformation jutsu that would trick his body to think that he has ovaries and he'd get the eggs that way! But he couldn't keep uterus and ect for 9 months, plus this jutsu is HARD to keep on for very long periods of time. It's easier to make a few organs from chakra that could produce real eggs than a whole new system. Plus Tobirama really didn't want to get pregnant and he wasn't sure he wouldn't fuck up his own body. Tobirama, with as gray morale as his, could just scrap failed embryo and start anew. He can't do that with his own body.

Anyway, incubator it is!

At first he did all of that in secret, stealing Madara's sperm (that's... a thing now) for his first experiments while they had sex. (Tobirama fucking Madara real hard that he’d pass out after and then take samples) ANYWAY

So he announced about his plans when the first stable and pretty healthy embryo was ready.

The first baby, Motoko! The melanin quee. She got all of it. Nothing left for her brother or sister. Ofc she's not THAT dark skinned, but she is for an Uchiha who are mostly white as a paper in canon.

(Tobirama is 21 for reference)

Her name literally means "Experiment seed first". Tobirama named this project this way for secrecy if someone would overhear his talks with Itama and Mito. It’d be Uchiha clan head’s child so hush-hush.

The name meanings + kanji! Hope I got them right, I have no japanese knowledge

oh and there is flirting with past and time in general in this name so it might be Tobirama reminiscing his first timeline. Like Motoko didn't even EXIST before.

So when he presented the embryo to Madara and Hashirama, they were ecstatic of course.

Madara almost cried. Hashirama became a river of tears.

Madara never really hoped for his own children since he married Tobirama cuz, well, they're both men. Doesn't really work that way. But Tobirama made it work and Madara is in love all over again.

Madara refuses to leave their future baby for a long time, just looking at them in the incubator. But the baby doesn’t need much there so Tobirama makes him leave and live a life while they’re waiting when the kid is ready.

Oh and Madara was SO against the name that basically means “experiment seed 1”. But when Tobirama asked if he got smth better, he ran away to his compound and tried to find the PERFECT names. He got lost in so many variations and never really decided. So when the kid was “born” (Tobirama just… took her out of the incubator*) and medics checked her, Madara took her in his hands, started crying and while he was having “A moment” Tobirama wrote her name as Motoko, cuz they needed it for administration and Uchiha clan.

*come to think about it, wouldn’t it fuck up a kid a bit? i mean, children develop under pressure of their mother’s organs and they’re in tight position. maybe test tube kids don’t really like to be wrapped in cloth? as i know ppl do that with newborns to imitate feelings like they’re in the womb.

But this name also can be read as “Festival child” so its kinda cute? Madara def told her that that’s exactly what her name means. No seed 1.

Interesting thing, when Tobirama made the baby, he thought he’d make a boy first, a heir. But something went wrong and the kid developed to be a girl. Tobirama was confused why. But technically, the kid is a boy with XY chromosomes but bc of their development and being a genetic experiment something went wrong and they developed as a female (its a real thing btw).

In the long run it didn’t really matter except that Motoko can’t have her own kids bc of all hormonal weirdness. And I don’t think that Tobirama would figure all of that out. He’d think he made some mistake when choosing gender, but kid was born healthy after all. Ofc when they found out that Motoko can’t have kids Tobirama will blame himself, that he ruined his daughter’s life. But she’s would be ok, she had her little siblings growing up and other clan kids so she’s done babysitting.

Okay for her personality! I think she’s kinda like Shisui? Very happy kid, spoiled rotten by her uncles (Hashirama and Izuna compete who is THE BEST uncle) and Tou-san (Madara). Btw Tobirama refuses to be called Kaa-san or any motherly terms. He’s barely holding a kunai in his pockets when Madara calls him wife.

But she’s also very Uchiha with temper and protectiveness. She was trained to be very much Uchiha cuz she’s the future clan head so her jutsu’s are strongly fire natured. Oh and her secondary nature is eath! She took it from the Senju side :)

Good sensor, but not as strong as her other siblings. Have really good chakra reserves and vicious on the battlefield.

Surprisingly looks really like Madara and Izuna’s mom. Her face is all that. Has soft dark hair and soft features. Considered to be very beautiful among Uchihas.

Oh and as you can see, I wrote that she has the Mangekyo. She got it when she was around 14. She was already really strong and cuz of her family, she got cocky. So, you ask me, who died? I think it’d be her female teammate (maybe from Hatake clan? idk I take suggestions) who she was in love with.

So yeah, she got a reality check. Because she got Mangekyo, Tobirama didn’t want her baby to lose her sight, so he improved his own seals that helped him with his albinism. Seals improve his sight and protect from the sun. So he drew Motoko tattoos on her face, like his. Years later it’d be a new feature of the main line.

But before that, when Motoko is 12 and Tobirama is 29, after 8 years of research (and possibly sealing/killing Black Zetsu in the meantime) he decided to try to make another kid. He still wanted a boy.

And he was successful. Meet Akemori! The Music King

The name was suggested by Hashirama. It means “red forest”. Red eyes, plus he sensed that the kid has a bit of mokuton!

But on the downside, Akemori was born an albino. Tobirama himself was really lucky, cuz he had a strong health and I hc that he still has healing abilities, but not as strong as Hashirama’s. But it still helped him in his childhood.

Not for Akemori tho. He was a sickly child, almost blind and burned on the sun easily. Tobirama had to put seals on him when he was about 3 years old. But even then his eyesight was still poor. Seals can’t fix everything.

Tobirama, once again, feels guilty that he didn’t notice any mistakes when he was creating the child.

And being born almost blind in Uchiha clan of all people wasn’t really nice. Though he is still clan head’s child and has a whole bunch of very powerful adults to protect him. Plus his older sister who loves him very much and wants to protect him from any harm.

But because of health issues Akemori was never really trained in shinobi arts. Well, he was trained (his fathers are literally… them) just that he could protect himself, but no one expected him to go on missions or even become a shinobi at all. Uchiha elders treated him as a potential political marriage pawn (even though Madara and Tobirama would never let them do that). Akemori caught on that and never had the motivation to become a shinobi at all. He was offended and said that he’d NEVER become a shinobi.

Madara was a little mad at that, cuz they’re SHINOBI clan, what the hell. But he shut up the second Tobirama sent him The Look. Tobirama was ok with Akemori’s wishes, like his twin and himself are shinobi by necessity, but they finds more joy in research.

Akemori was trained in Mokuton by Hashirama of course, even though Senju elders bitched about him selling clan secrets to Uchiha. But Hokage does what he wants.

Akemori’s mokuton isn’t as strong as Hashirama’s, plus he never really wanted to fight. But he was good with plants so he joined Itama-oji in his research a lot! Especially since Hashirama is busy with Hokage stuff, Itama was delighted to get a new helper.

Akemori is also a really good sensor because, like Tobirama, he had to compensate his bad eyesight. Basically, Akemori is a very Tobirama’s kid.

Surprisingly, he awakened the Sharingan! He was 6 and some foreign ninja (prob Kumo) thought it’d be cool to steal a kid with the Sharingan. Because of his naturally red eyes Akemori got stolen. Ofc when Tobirama felt his kid out of Konoha bonds, he sounded the alarm in the whole Uchiha clan to check on their kids whereabouts and was first to chase the kidnappers.

Kumo nin were killed by a very mad Tobirama and bc of the stress Akemori awakened the Sharingan. It wasn’t much of a use for him, since he’s not a shinobi. But at least Uchihas acknowledge him as a fellow Uchiha and not just Tobirama’s carbon copy.

(btw noone outside immediate family actually KNOWS where the kids coming from. They don't see any pregnant women in the main line house or anyone in the clan with the same time who gave birth these days. Tobirama himself or god forbid Madara aren't ever seen pregnant. Where the fuck kids are coming from? Do they just spawn in the house or what)

(they basically do spawn)

Sharingan helps Akemori to actually see! At least he could see something and could read. But stll, its not really strong, cuz not trained enough.

Basically Akemori is a perfect mix between Senju and Uchiha with Sharingan and Mokuton, but he was nerfed by albinism.

Being almost blind boy who can navigate only with his sensing, doesn’t gives him much hobbies. Ofc he helps Itama and he studies plants and medicine a lot with him, but he still needs a hobby. Books don’t work for him, any type of handicrafts too cuz he can’t just use Sharingan all the time, his head hurts and sometimes he doesn't want to remember a whole book perfectly. He’s also not very interested in training as a hobby.

So in his tweens while Itama and he were traveling (with Uchiha escort (prob Motoko) just in case) to the near town for some medicine and plants, he noticed (heard) a group of musicians and he fell in love.

Itama immediately bought him an instrument (maybe Biwa?).

And now the second son of Uchiha Madara became a musician! Isn’t it fun. Elders are furious.

Madara was baffled but “You do you, son. When you learn, show us? Oh and maybe you can copy someone else’s playing, but be discreet. They may not like that you’d try to copy their music. Shinobi don’t really like when we copy their jutsus too”

With age he learned to play several instruments (I take suggestions on which ones). Some people even thought that he’s trained to become geisha (he's not, he's just a pretty boy who plays music for fun).

When he grow old enough, Itama started to give him weed for inspiration and to relax. Akemori is prone to quiet anxiety attacks after he was kidnapped.

Okay, the final kid. She was born 4 years later after Akemori.

Nari! The pout queen

Madara finally got to name his kid. Her name means “Calm, harmonic village”. Yeah he decided to name his kid after a village. It's still better than Konohamaru

And she’s the final kid, because Tobirama finally got it and produced a “normal” healthy kid. Plus he's not sure how many kids (3) and students (another 4 and Kagami) he can actually handle.

She has very Uchiha coloring, but Tobirama’s facial features. She also inherited his stare.

She’s the baby of the family, but she grew up slightly strict and serious cuz she stayed a lot with Tobirama, cuz he decided he won’t spend another maternity leave out of the Tower. The first two times were a disaster when he came back.

Tobirama left on maternity leaves just cuz he needed to monitor his kids health, especially Akemori’s. Idk about Konoha maternity leaves, but they should be really short, since well shinobi are needed all year long and they can’t wait for mother-shinobi to spend a whole year on that. Though on the other side, mothers need time to recover or they won’t be able to perform good on their missions (plus they probably have a milk smell lol). Who knows, maybe Tobirama was the one who drafted a law about at least one year maternity leave. He got very popular among kunoichi (can you believe that I just remembered that this word exists)

Nari is really like Izuna, but got her temper under control. Maybe think of teen Kakashi but without dead fathers and angst. But also brat.

Her chakra is water nature and she has 0 affinity with fire. Still she did produce great fireball as their traditions dictated, even though it took her many trials and errors. After that she decided that she hates traditions like that. Got really rebellious in her teens, about 13 and even tried to challenge her sister (25) for the clan head position. She didn’t win ofc and was bitter about it.

Also because her sister and brother both have seals, she always dreamed of the same, cuz as a baby she thought that it’s something special for their family. But Tobirama doesn’t think she needs them cuz her sight is perfect and her skin is pale, but it doesn’t burn like Akemori’s.

It triggered interest for seals in general cuz “FINE if you won’t give me seals, I’ll just make them myself!”

Tobirama was completely okay with it. He always strives to encourage kids when they want to learn something new. So he sicked her at Mito. Though his aunt was quite happy to teach her niece sealing art.

also idk why i write evil near her. she's just a brat. though she has the potential to become Azula ish

And that’s it!

I will write more about them later cuz im tired. I have some other ideas I wanna expand. Like Tobirama introducing his pups to his Hatake aunt (did i tell you that i LOVE Hatakes?),

Oh and fun little sketches close ups for a treat

i love this Hashirama with the kids, ugh he's so father

if you have any questions you can send them to my ask box!

[queenshelby]

Daughter Dearest (Part 11)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy (47) x Step! Daughter (21)

Warning: Infidelity, Smut, Dysfunctional Family

Tag List will be updated soon! Please comment and engage!

The following few days passed like a blur. Cillian was in London, working and attending some meetings for another movie while you finally got rid of your ankle monitor, gaining some freedom.

You applied for a few jobs in the hope to save enough money to move out again, even before you were scheduled to relocate to New York to attend your photography course, while your mother was busy shopping for Award Season dresses with your sister who was keen to be a third wheel at the Golden Globes and Oscars that year.

"Why do you even want to go to these award shows with them? I mean, don't you feel weird about it?" you questioned your twin-sister Cliona one evening, as the two of you sat together in the kitchen, eating leftover pizza and chatting, while your mother was putting Sadie to bed. 

"Because it is fantastic for networking," she replied, chewing on a slice of pizza. "You never know who might be there and, besides, these events are great opportunities to show off," she added smugly, throwing a smug smile at you.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes and ignore her comment, allowing her to talk some more. Cliona had always been more interested in your stepfather's status than you had and, although you sometimes wished that you didn't care about her attitude towards his fame, it bothered you a lot lately.

In recent days, you had become particularly moody and being in a house with her and your mother, often alone, didn't help your nerves, despite the fact that you did love them.

On top of that, you had tried to push Cillian out of your head, telling yourself that what had happened between you two was a mistake and nothing more, but try as you might, you couldn't forget it.

You couldn't forget the way he had touched you, made love to you, or even just looked at you. You had never felt so desired in your life and although it scared you, it also excited you beyond belief.

It was a push-pull experience that made you yearn for his presence while, at the same time, you wanted things to go back to the way there were before, when you didn't have these feelings of guilt and shame constantly lingering over you when your mother and twin-sister were around.

"So you aren't coming to any of the awards then?" Cliona repeated her previous question with a pout, which mad you realise that, this entire time, when you were thinking about Cillian, she had been talking to you.

"W-what?" you said, snapping out of your daze. "Um, no, I won't be attending any of the awards shows with you guys. It's not for me and I have too much on my plate at the moment," you lied, even though you had no job and not much to do, other than wait for your course to start.

Cliona shrugged. "Suit yourself," she said, as if implying that you were missing out on a great opportunity, before finishing off her slice of pizza and standing up from her chair.

"Well, I'm heading to bed. See you tomorrow," she added, before walking out of the kitchen and leaving you alone in your thoughts.

You sighed and leaned back in your chair, staring out the window just as your phone  beeped, signaling a new text message. 

"You've got the job!" was the message written in big bold letters on the screen from the nice bartender at a local establishment to which a friend had introduced you to the day before. 

Excitement bubbled inside of you, and your troubles seemed to vanish at the sight of the single message. You were absolutely broke , so this opportunity couldn't have come at a better time. You would be able to start working within the next few days, which provided a sense of financial security and a diversion from the drama you had created with Cillian.

Cillian, himself, arrived back home later that week just as you were about to head out for your first shift at the bar.

You were dressed casually in a pair of dark jeans, a fitted grey shirt and your hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail.

"Hey," you greeted Cillian as he walked through the door, looking exhausted but happy to see you, his eyes lighting up as they met yours.

"Hey," he replied, retaining his distance which, in your opinion, made this encounter somewhat awkward.

Luckily for you though, you were an expert in the art of small talk and, even though you hadn't mastered it, your tone sounded light and casual.

"How was your flight?" you asked, as he placed his luggage down and unzipped his jacket.

"Long," Cillian replied with a weary sigh before his eyes met yours again.

The connection was undeniable, burning with a passion that refused to quell. But he had his integrity, and perhaps that was something he would never compromise. Not even for you.

"Where are you off to?"  Cillian inquired, his gaze falling on your outfit while you were fidgeting with the house keys.

"Oh, I've got a job now ," you informed him cheerfully, attempting to keep your tone light while trying to overcome the fluttering feelings in your chest.

"Where at?" Cillian asked, raising an eyebrow, and you wanted to smile at his enthusiasm, but you held back, taking a deep breath instead.

"Just a bar, in town. It's called O'Rielly's and is really nothing special," you lied, trying to downplay the significance of this job, but Cillian could see right through it.

"That's great though," he said with a warm smile, making your heart flutter uncontrollably. "Well done," he told you, knowing how you wanted to pay your own way. 

"Thanks. I really needed this. I was starting to feel like a burden around here," you muttered, not meaning to make the conversation heavy.

Cillian narrowed his gaze upon hearing that, sensing there was something more to your statement.

"You're not a burden, Y/N, and you never have been," he asserted, closing the distance between you, his hands resting on your upper arms reassuringly.

"Oh, I am sure my mother would disagree with you right now," you chuckled, not wanting to tell him about the many fights you had with her in recent days, all because you felt like a leech living in her house. "But listen, I really have to go. My shift starts at six," you said, zipping your jacket closed and slinging your bag over your shoulder.

"Do you want me to drive you?" Cillian offered, breaking through your thoughts.

For a brief moment, you imagined what it would be like to spend a few more minutes alone with him in the car. But you quickly shook off that dangerous thought.

"Thanks, but I can take the bus," you said, smiling weakly. "Despite, you just got off a six-hour flight,"  you added.

Cillian opened his mouth to protest, but you cut him off. "No, really. I've got this," you insisted, already moving towards the door.

Cillian sighed, looking like he wanted to say more, but he seemed to think better of it. "Alright, but call me when you get off work. I will pick you up. You shouldn't take the bus that late," he said, his voice firm.

You paused and looked back at him. "You worry too much,"  you said, but there was a small smile on your faces as you said it since you found his concern heartwarming.

"Only because I care," he replied with a warm smile before he allowed you to leave.

When you arrived at the bar for your shift, you found it bustling with people, eager to escape their daily routine. You took a deep breath to steady your nerves and walked behind the bar, where the manager was waiting for you.

"Ah, Y/N! It's good to see you. Here, put this on," she said, handing you a shirt. "I'll show you the ropes."

The first few hours flew by quickly, with you learning the ins and outs of the bar, how to make drinks, take orders, and keep the customers happy.

The pace was fast but exciting, and you found yourself enjoying the buzz around you, serving drinks, laughing with the patrons and relishing in the anonymity and the freedom that came with working at a separate place of employment.

When things started to slow down, you checked the time on your phone and saw it was already after midnight. There was no way Cillian would still be up, you thought to yourself, as you dried your hands on your apron and walked towards the front of the bar but, just as you were about to bring up the bus schedule again, your phone buzzed with a new message.

"I'm still picking you up," it read, causing your heart to skip a beat.

You smiled to yourself, thankful for his concern and hit 'Reply,' typing out a quick thanks and an estimated time for the end of your shift. You knew that there was still some cleaning up to do, which would take about thirty minutes or more.

You put your phone back into your apron’s pocket and got to work, finishing up as quickly as possible and the friendly bar manager, Jeremy, offered you a drink on the house after you finished lifting up all the chairs.

"You did extremely well today," he praised, touching your shoulder. "And thanks for taking the shift last minute, you really saved me," he smiled, noting that you weren't actually meant to start until the week after. 

"I am glad I could help," you responded before noticing him flirting a little with you.

"I enjoyed working with you tonight Y/N. I am serious," Jeremy added with a wink, making you blush slightly and laugh off his compliment. "And you can have as many shifts as you want," he went on to say, which caught you off-guard, since most places usually put new hires on a light schedule.

"Oh, really?" you asked, trying to hide your surprise. "I mean, that sounds good," you added hastily, before taking another sip of your drink.

"Absolutely. I would love to have you on the team, you are a star already," Jeremy complimented you again, causing your face to flush with heat.

You chuckled nervously and glanced down at your phone, checking the time, and saw a message from Cillian: "I will be there in a minute," it read, making you plan your exit. 

"I, uhm, I gotta go now if that's okay?" you  said shyly, biting your lip as you met Jeremy's gaze. His eyes lingered on your lips for a moment longer than necessary before he looked away, just as Cillian reluctantly pushed open the door to the bar, looking straight at the two of you.

"We are closed," Jeremy announced, trying to sound imposing, but you interrupted him.

"It's okay. He is just...uhm...picking me up," you stammered, shuffling your feet nervously as you broke eye contact with Jeremy. "He won't let me take the bus and now this is all really awkward," you then blurted out, causing Cillian to raise an eyebrow.

"I am Cillian. Y/N's..." Cillian paused before saying the word. "Stepfather," he clarified hesitantly, offering a polite smile and his hand to Jeremy for a handshake. There was a slight tension in the air as Jeremy hesitantly shook Cillian's hand, eyeing him carefully, before finally giving you a nod. 

"Oh, right. Of course," Jeremy said, seeming to understand that there was nothing more to this interaction, which made you feel more at ease. 

"I'll just...uhm...go and get my things from the back then," you muttered nervously before quickly scurrying towards the back room to collect your belongings.

You could feel both Cillian's and Jeremy's eyes on you as you gathered your coat and bag, your heart hammering away in your chest.

You had never been very good at hiding your emotions, and it seemed that both men had picked up on you feeling somewhat out of place right now. 

"Okay, I'm ready," you eventually said, brushing a lock of hair out of your face as you walked back out to the front of the bar and, after Jeremy thanked you for your hard work, you followed Cillian out of the door, your heart still racing.

"You know you really didn't have to stay up for me," you said as Cillian opened the car door for you.

"I know. But I wanted to make sure you got home safely. Besides, I was still up anyway," he replied, his tone serious.

As you sat next to him in his car, you couldn't help but feel a little self-conscious about Jeremy and how he had been looking at you throughout the night and, it was also something that Cillian had picked upon. 

"Everything okay?" Cillian asked, seeming to sense your discomfort.

"Yeah, everything's fine," you lied, forcing a smile.

"I can see the bar manager has already taken a liking in you," Cillian said, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

"Yeah, I think, maybe, he has," you confirmed, looking out of the window of the car as Cillian expertly drove through the quiet streets of the city.

"Then again, he works in a bar. I am sure he has taken a liking to many women who have worked there," Cillian replied in a matter-of-fact tone.

You remained silent for a moment, trying to decipher his intent, but you chose not to press further at that moment.

"Are you jealous?"  you blurted out, immediately regretting the words as soon as they left your lips. It was the last thing you wanted to imply, given the circumstances.

Cillian glanced at you and raised an eyebrow, causing you to quickly backtrack.

"I mean, not that you have any reason to be, of course. I am just your stepdaughter after all," you added hastily, your cheeks flushed as you watched Cillian's expression soften.

"No, I'm not jealous," he replied softly. "I am just concerned about you, that's all. I don't want to see you getting hurt."

"Sure, we will leave at that," you nodded, understanding his concern, and looked away, embarrassed that you had even brought it up.

The rest of the car ride was quiet, with neither of you speaking. But, despite the silence, the tension between you two was palpable. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, and your heartbeat quickened as you tried to ignore the thoughts and images that swirled in your mind.

The memories of the connection you shared, the intimacy you both had experienced, and the desire that still lingered, seemed to be clouding your judgement, and you couldn't help but long for that closeness again.

The car pulled up outside the house, and Cillian turned off the engine, allowing the silence to envelop you. He shifted in his seat as he glanced at you, his gaze piercing through the darkness. You could sense that he was trying to read your thoughts, but you couldn't find the words to explain what was going on in your head.

Your mind was a whirlwind of emotions, conflicting desires, and unspoken truths that clashed together, creating turbulence you were struggling to navigate.

"We should go inside and get some rest. It's late," you  said softly, your eyes meeting Cillian's. There was a lingering tension between you both, as if his gaze could combust the emotions resparking within you.

"Yeah," Cillian  replied after a moment, his voice almost a whisper. He let out a long breath before he opened his car door, stepping out on the pavement.

Only after he had fully closed the car door did you realize that you had been holding your breath. It was then that you released it in a sigh, feeling strangely disappointed that the night had ended like this, with awkwardness and silence and no connection between you both, except the remembered one.

You quickly exited his car, feeling embarrassed at how much your feelings for him had control over you at times, now that he was ignoring them too.

"Goodnight, Y/N," Cillian muttered, almost under his breath after you both stepped inside, as if he was too afraid to say it any louder.

You turned to him, your eyes wide with surprised and confusion, before you replied with a hoarse "Goodnight" and walking up the stairs, leaving Cillian to stand alone in the hallway. 

Tags:

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[anarchiii]

Where The Wild Roses Grow-1 —ACOTAR AU

Part One | Warnings: angst, very mild swearing | Azriel x Tamlin’s!Sister

Summary; in the heart of the dreaded city of Hewn. Y/n struggles to stay herself, the bleak and cold air surrounding the mountain slowly stripped its inhabitants of any hope or sense of joy, but when the Shadowsinger appears. She suddenly finds that when love and hate collide, it can be devastating. . .

Note: this is an AU it’s not in the books.

Masterlist ⚔︎

(Contains physical descriptions of the Reader—hair, eyes, ect.)

Azriel’s POV

The frigid mountain winds blew at him from all directions, his wings starting to numb, ever so slowly. He tried to block it out, taking in as much light from the never ending party inside, Azriel had never been one for parties of any kind, especially when they were full of drooling females and disgusting males—males that continue to do things that sickened even the ironists of stomachs—yes, he was a monster but he was not the same at the people in there. They were truly something else.

So that’s how the Shadowsinger found himself lingering outside in the dark gardens, how plants managed to grow down here—he did not know, did not care. All he cared about was going home before the sun crested the surrounding mountain range, the ethereal glow it created like the hands of the Mother encompassing the world in one big embrace, oh how he wished to full the wind rustle his leathery wings, the first appearances of winter’s frost landing on his hair.

Alas, he was stuck with the bleak gray rock around him, so the Shadowsinger turned his head to the sky that was not there and stared and stared, soon it was not stone looking back at him but stars, thousands of little bright lights. The moon’s soft glow illuminating every surface.

As the Illyrian male stared on, he did not hear the soft sound of gravel crunching and shifting for the feet that walked upon it, no. The only thing he noticed was the smell of oleandrin flowers and jasmine, he breathed the deadly scent in, getting a rush of ecstasy he did not realise he needed. Whoever it was-was addictive, the challenge imbedded in their scent like a bee’s nest to a hungry bear, singing a lovely song like a siren. He was enraptured.

-

Y/N’s POV

She scowled as she watched everyone dance and drink wine at the party that seemed to never die, why she came to these events that consisted of nothing more than pure debauchery, she did not know.

Y/N eyed the High lord and his court, that signature wicked smirk always on his face, his mate mimicking one of the same cruelty, she tried to tell herself that they were good people but she could not believe it, not when she saw them that way. Saw them look down on her companions, like they were merely dirt beneath their polished boots, Y/N knew better than anyone else that they weren’t the best of people, but that didn’t mean they deserved to be treated with such disdain.

She sighed, shaking her head, it was no use to think that way, no point to try to fight or disagree against the high fae that believed themselves better, not when said fae could execute her at a moments notice. It wouldn’t take much more than a wave of Rhysand’s hand for her head to become estranged from her neck. Perhaps if they caught wind of her actual identity then the prospect of death would become that much more certain.

If she was being honest, she couldn’t really blame them, Y/N had heard the things that gone on in the Spring Court—her home—involving her brother and Feyre Archeron all those months ago, years, even. Time moved differently down here, they could not rely upon the sun to tell them it was bedtime, no winds to signal the changing seasons.

It was a wonder Y/N hadn’t gone insane down here, or maybe she had. She wasn’t made for the darkness, no, Y/N was born in Spring, a place where sunshine found you anywhere and where fields of flowers stretched far across the land, further than even a Fae’s eyesight could see. She missed those frilly, colourful dresses she’d adorned daily, the jewellery she put on with ritualistic ease, like muscle memory—but what Y/N did not miss was her brother, she and her brother, Tamlin had never been close, especially after that faithful night years ago, resulting in the untimely death of their parents.

Her parents had never been the kindest Fae, that she knew. And after all the years they’d fought and screamed at one another until they could no longer speak. . . She found herself hardly grieving when she met violent purple eyes one night, widening as they realised she lived. Y/N had never found herself hating the young High Lord, no. She quite liked him, actually.

He was horribly charming and a good dance partner, and that wicked smirk of his never failed to make any female swoon—even her, to Tamlin’s eternal dismay—they’d always had such a tenuous relationship, said relationship was non-existent these days. Not that Y/N would know if that had changed, gossip was hard to come by when it wasn’t about some scandalous affair or who was looking like more of a whore that day. Such nonsensical things. Well, to her at least. It wasn’t useful information.

Gods, she sounded like that Shadowsinger, craving information, wanting to know all the secrets of this place, perhaps Rhysand would hire her. Y/N snorted out loud at the thought, gaining a few side-eyes from a couple females, she quickly gave them a vulgar gesture before walking off.

How dare they judge her when they were the ones dressed like frisky brothel workers, Y/N was nothing like them, dressed in a long black shoulder-strap dress with slits on both sides that barely went past her knees, she might as well have been dressed as a Saint among them, a true black sheep. Not that it was the most modest thing alive, but compared to the lingerie looking attire that she was supposed to wear, it was good enough.

She sighed as she rubbed her face vigorously, still careful not to ruin the kohl she’d painstakingly put on earlier and the blood red lips that made her look like a male-eater. Y/N prided herself on her looks, her ability to get whatever she wanted whenever she wanted, it was sometimes hard to believe she was from Spring, she was made for the Night court with her cunning, wicked and adept personality. She wondered what Tamlin would think of her if he saw her again, then again, perhaps he’d forgotten she’d existed—Y/N had always been the black sheep of the family, with her pitch-black hair and brown-ish red eyes, it wasn’t hard to see why, perhaps she wasn’t even related to them, that’d make sense.

She found herself once again sulking, drowning herself in the horrible voice that was her doubts and worries, drowned in it like it was the finest wine, addictive but destructive. The female shook her head in dismay and dismissed the party, opting to instead sulk outside were she could feel the wind flowing through her onyx locks, as soon as she stepped outside, she regretted it.

Not only because goosebumps appeared quickly and teeth started chattering but because she was in fact not alone out here. No, it was a Fae’s greatest mistake to believe they were alone when the Shadowsinger was nearby. Watching. . . Waiting.

-

Y/N watched her own breath curl in the wind, winding and swirling like smoke infront of her, her eyes flicked to the Shadowsinger and back, did he know she was there? No—what was she thinking? Of course he knew, he was their High Lord’s spymaster for Cauldron’s sake.

Her gulp was audible, shifting on her feet, Y/N silently wondered if she should make a run for it or if that would end in her death. She stayed still, deeming that the best option, awkward and probably about to die is better than being dead. Afterall, the Shadowsinger wasn’t known for his kindness or compassion. No, the male was a force to be reckoned with, a creature of death.

A dark part of her wasn’t scared of that darkness, yearned for that blissful tragedy. . . A broken porcelain looking for a shard to fit perfectly, no matter how chipped and uneven, hoping that one day she’ll be one for, once more, not just as thousand tiny pieces.

Suddenly—a sharp noise could be heard from inside, startling both fae. The orchestra had begun their final piece for the night, the music started off soft but got louder and louder by the minute, building to its crescendo. The Shadowsinger turned to her slowly, an indescribable emotion could be found in his eyes—like a rock in the ocean, lonely, all it’s ever heard is the crashing of waves. . . Y/N didn’t know what compelled her to do what she did that night but by the time she did It, she wasn’t regretting it. But she surely would the next day.

-

Azriel’s POV

He sucked in a sharp breath as the strange female held out a hand to him, an invitation—an offering of companionship, the Spymaster was too far from words to decline as he took her fair hand in his scarred one. Both the female’s hands rested gently on his shoulders and he put his on her waist in return, Azriel couldn’t breathe properly as they started moving, his shadows singing to a song even he couldn’t hear—but as they danced in the pale moonlight that seeped through the cracks, illuminating them like a spotlight, he let all his worries wash away.

Gone until only they remained, his blood thrumming as the crescendo built and built. He found himself doing what he’d always hated to watch—to dance, the male now realised why so many loved to dance, why they laughed as they were spun, drank in the smiles of their partners until they were too drunk to waltz. It was beautiful and wholly mesmerising, the dance of a shadow and his moon.

Tears lined his eyes faintly as he watched her, as she watched him—he swore his heart stopped in his chest when the crescendo shattered, bursting into a million little notes. Even when the music stopped, when everyone went to bed—or other people’s beds—they stayed like that, slowly moving around, her head resting on his shoulder. Beauty and the beast, he thought to himself, a dove falling for a raven. Perfectly imperfect.

Shadow and light, sun and moon, brought together in a great symphony that only they were apart of.

The End.

Authors note: I’m so sorry everyone for being so inactive, I’ve had the biggest writers block but I decided to push myself and get this fic out, it’s been sitting in my drafts for months now and I thought it was time they were brought to life, I apologise again if this series goes on hiatus so please don’t pressure me. Thanks for all the love and support, you guys are incredible <3

—Vi xX

Taglist-

@shadowsingercassia

@mellowmusings

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the Taglist for this series or all my fic’s!

[child-of-the-danube]

MASSIVE AGATHA ALL ALONG SPOILERS SO SKIP IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THE EPISODE

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Time to yap, my sisters in the craft 🔮🧙🏻‍♀️

Positives of the final two episodes:

1. Jen finally being free

2. Agatha showing she actually learned from her coven in her final battle with Rio - she used Alice's protection spell, Jen's moon water spell and listened to Lilia's advice about hitting the deck

3. The parallels of Agatha and her coven:

- She was in the same situation as Lorna. A mother who knew her child was doomed from the start and did everything in her power to protect them and keep them alive for as long as she could, only for it to be fruitless in the end. And despite it being fruitless, the children did feel the love and were aware of the sacrifice, and sometimes that is enough. Alice and Nicky's memory will forever live through the songs their mothers made for and with them. The memory of their love outlived both them and their children and will keep on living on for long after.

- She chose to give her life for someone she just met but clearly felt strongly for the same way Lilia did. A lifetime of running from Death. A lifetime of collecting knowlegde for it to appear useless. A lifetime of seeing Death everywhere, of being persued by her, of being lonely and heartbroken with grief. And then going out by embracing Death by your own will to give another a chance and do at least once what you failed to do for centuries - protect.

- Her and Billy making a story come to life out of love and grief for their family. She set the foundation and he made it come to realisation. Both took away from others but only one gets be exempt from the consequences and able to achieve what they were after from the start.

4. Agatha being the happiest she's ever been when Nicky was with her

5. The acceptance in her voice when she says "Sometimes...boys die"

6. The fact that the dandelion seed in Nicky's hair that she kept for centuries saved her in the final trial oh my god 😭 😭

7. Agatha's love for Nicky being so strong that a silly little song they made together became world known. "You...I made from scratch" AAAAAAAAAAAAA

8. She calls her power "my purple" cause Nicky called it so 💔💔

9. THE KISS

10. Showing that it was Agatha's desire to keep Nicky alive and later on when he died her grief turning her to addiction that caused her to become this famous witch killer. She was never purely evil. What she did was, and it is not an excuse, but still. The parallels between her and Wanda being ready to destroy entire worlds and lives just to get their children back... A mother's love can make whole valleys bloom but it can also make mountains crumble to dust and my heart is not ok

11. Agatha doing for Billy what she couldn't do for her own son. Giving him a chance to live

12. Ghost Agatha's first move being annoying her adoptive son lmao

13. The road's entrance becoming a memorial to Sharon, Alice and Lilia

14. Billy getting the wake up call that he is not so different from Agatha or Wanda. His grief created a literal death trap and consequently killed Sharon, Alice and Lilia, even if Agatha is telling him Alice was her doing and Lilia was by her own choice

15. Agatha finding her purpose as a mentor in death

Negatives:

1. We were cheated out of a proper Agatha and Rio backstory. How did they meet? How did they fall in love? What happened in the centuries between Nicky's death and entering the road? How often did Rio come to Agatha for Agatha to be so clear about the one thing she wants when she passes being not seeing Rio? She is Death's only exception, only love, only scar. WE DESERVED MORE!!! How did Agatha bag a literal god????

2. Once again, a story that started out and was marketed as a story of women ends up being just means to help a man's story build up. I mean, I should have expected that but still leaves a bitter taste. Wiccan is an interesting character but I feel cheated out of knowing more about Jen. I wanted her backstory before being bound. I wanted Agatha pre-Salem trial and post Nicky's death for more than a power draining sequence through the ages. I wanted Agatha and Rio developing this bond that held up for 300 years. I wanted the Salem Seven to be more than a 5 second threat. Billy will get his own show anyway, like come on.

3. In connection to that, I know this one is a very subjective sentiment and I understand completely but it still pisses me off to no end. The fact that these witches, these centuries old women, who all had being covenless, lonely and in dire situations with their powers in common, went on this death wish trip with someone they didn't like at all as a last resort and got what they were lacking, learned to care for eachother, got their powers back, and that Agatha had the possibility to finally have a family and people genuinely care for her, turned out to be practically worthless in the end cause they had like 5mins of it is making me go insane. Alice said it best: "This is it? I was finally able to do something with my life and this is all the time I get?". The only one, aside Jen, coming out alive and having time to bask in the glow of his new-found power AND have the chance to do something with it is a fucking teenage boy who already got the privilege of cheating Death and the privilege of his family members still be somewhere out in reach to search for. The finale said "your life, struggles and resolution were just means to get someone else ahead". Call me a misandrist, so be it, but I'm fucking tired. Is one story where women are the focus and have a happy ending so fucking much to ask for????

4. THE KISS cause at what cost??? I repeat, this was the fastest, literal, bury your gays move I've ever seen. We knew it couldn't possibly end well, but damn. However, kudos to Kathryn and Aubrey making it so hungry and desperate, but also soft and real and full of emotion.

5. Billy being a dick and wanting to send Agatha back to "Rio's toxic embrace" like he didn't just watch her give up her life for him and tell her that she's "not that bad". My boy, you are truly strange in your holier than thou attitude sometimes

[yoonia]

🖋️ one your stories that sticks to me the most was the (im)perfect ending. I really wish to see how you visualize their lives after. will Joon ever find out about the baby? will they reunite again? what happens when they do🤭? will Joon finally get his head out of his a** and end his marriage and be true to his feelings 🧐 or will OC has her own happy ending with someone else🤔?

💌 I think other people have said this before, but you are an admirable person that I've ever met online. You've worked hard on your stories and have always given us a lot. even now, you choose to spread positivity and share gifts for others to celebrate your birthday and I think that's the sweetest thing anyone could ever do. happy belated birthday, Dia. You deserve so much happiness and a lot more. I hope your coffee is always hot and your pillow always warm. wishing you and all your precious kitties an abundance of health and joy 💝💝

omg I've been getting the same questions sent to me for this couple, so I guess this might be a good chance to provide some answers for those who have been waiting for it lol

I know that the last letter mentioned in the fic didn't specify how much OC shared about her baby, so I guess this is where we get to see what other things she sent with the letter for Namjoon. I hope you enjoy the snippet and the visualisation below!!

— title: Our Imperfections| pairings: Namjoon x female reader| genre: second chances!au, infidelity!au, post divorce/break-up!au, angst | word count: 1,410 words — summary | Namjoon is on a mission to fix the mess he created. — ratings & warnings | +18 / M for mature; talk about divorce and custody, post break-up, mentions of infidelity

— original: The (Im)perfect Ending by @yoonia — fic drop date: Oct 30th, 2024 — song companion: loved

“Don’t forget that you need to pick up Sunny early Saturday morning for her class camping trip.” 

Hearing her voice on the phone, clipped with orders, used to make Namjoon wince. Now he is used to it. Always so business-like, even when talking about their only child. 

“Did you get that?” 

Her voice returns when he doesn’t answer. He holds back from rolling his eyes and calmly answers. “Yeah, I got that. Saturday morning. Early.” 

His reaction isn’t the only thing he is holding back. Asking why six-year-olds would go on a camping trip might only end up with him getting a long lecture through the phone. He doesn’t have that much time to endure that. And having his ear burning from it is really the last thing he needs right now. 

“Right. I’ll text you the details.” A sigh, then, “Sunny also wants you to be the one to drive her to school Monday. So I’m packing up extra clothes for her to stay with you another night. Is that good?” 

Namjoon closes his eyes. As much as he loves having extra time with his daughter, having the child’s mother schedule their time for him without consulting him first rubs him the wrong way. If he doesn’t know any better, he would have thought that she keeps doing this as a payback. Causing trouble and brushing his ego for choosing to step out of their marriage—the marriage that she had worked so hard to paint as perfect for the world to see. 

But Namjoon knows better. 

He knows that she has always been this way. 

Even when they were still together, she always had to be the one running the show, while Namjoon would have to follow. She was the one holding the pen, writing the story for them through her rose-coloured glasses, while forcing him into a role that he never felt like he could fit into. 

At one point, it caused him to lose himself. 

Only that he realised it too late. Far too late, because it hadn’t just started when they got married, but long before—when they grew up together and being fed their parents’ beliefs that they would end up together once they turned adults; when they became teenagers and she insisted that it would only be right if they started dating to make their parents’ dreams come true and when she started planning their wedding day just when Namjoon was starting to find a chance to write his own story, to walk a different path, with a completely different person. 

It wasn’t until he was able to find his old self and feel like himself again through the mistakes he made when he finally found the courage to leave that life. Yet, once again, he was too late. 

Far too late. 

“Namjoon? Do you—” 

Her voice breaks him out of his wandering thoughts, only for her words to get drowned by the sound of the announcement blaring through the speakers above his head. 

“Attention, passengers on Flight 345 with service to Sydney. We are now beginning our boarding process at Gate 12B. Please…” 

The voice fades as passengers rush in front of him to find the departure gate, and Namjoon waits until the announcement stops before taking his palm off his phone. 

“Where are you? Are you on another business trip?” 

Namjoon almost laughs. He finds it hard to believe that after spending an entire fifteen minutes on call with him, she never thought about asking him where he was or where he was up to. 

Business as usual. Even when it’s about our new arrangement. 

“Australia. I just landed. That’s why I couldn’t take your call until now.” 

“Oh…” 

“You do realise the longer you’re on this call, the more expensive it will be, don’t you?” 

Silence, then her bitter voice is heard. “How was I supposed to know where you were?” 

You could have asked. 

Sighing, Namjoon shakes his head. “Look, just text or email me all the details about Sunny’s trip. I’ll be back in Seoul Friday afternoon. Okay?” 

“Okay.” Her voice softens. “Take care, Namjoon.” 

The call ends, and Namjoon breathes a heavy sigh. Feeling exhaustion after speaking to her is one thing, but once it wanes, guilt always seems to take root. It doesn’t matter if he had fallen out of love a long time ago. He cannot deny that he has made too many mistakes that he is still trying hard to make up for. His decision to stay in the marriage for Sunny, using her as an excuse to hang on to the final threads that were offered to him instead of stepping away from that fallen marriage, was his last, yet probably most detrimental for his own mental health and any chance he ever had to make things right for everyone. 

Including you. 

Hoisting his duffle bag on his shoulder, Namjoon walks across the airport’s lot to find his ride. There is a reason why he is here, and he isn’t going to stop until he finds what he is searching for. 

It takes him nearly an hour to reach his destination. 

The small coffee shop looks quite inconspicuous as it stands between various other shops downtown, yet it still catches Namjoon’s eyes the moment he arrives. 

Quaint and delicate, with natural wooden colours chosen as the accents at the front side of the shop and dark window frames, it reminds him so much of you. 

The sound of the bell chimes above his head as he steps in, immediately welcomed by the fresh scent of coffee beans, chocolate, and a bit of cinnamon. Spicy and sweet and pleasantly warm. A young boy with a thick Australian accent welcomes him from the cashier, yet his eyes travel across the room, where the figure that has been filling his dreams at night appears. 

Smiling at the young barista, he walks up towards you instead. You have yet to notice him in the room. Your eyes are locked on the small child sitting on the sofa by the corner, swinging his legs as he receives a small sip cup from your hands. 

His eyes find him first, looking over your shoulder while you still have your back facing Namjoon and the front door. 

“Now you sit tight right here until Mommy finishes work, okay? And don’t—”

“Mama?” the boy cuts you off before you can finish speaking, his chubby finger pointing towards Namjoon, “Da..?” 

Your body freezes. Namjoon hears a soft gasp before you straighten up and slowly turn to face him. The moment you see him standing there, your eyes grow wide and you quickly move to hide your son behind you. Only the child is quick, as he hops off the sofa to stand right behind you, clinging onto your legs as he peeks at Namjoon. 

A line which he read from your letter echoes in his mind as he returns the boy’s curious gaze, just as it does many nights after you were gone—

“I have a boy. He’s here. He might have a dimple on his cheek too that might show up once he’s grown a bit older. His name is…” 

Namjoon bends down. “Sammy, is it?” 

The boy, Sammy, slowly nods. Namjoon smiles. “You look handsome. You’re being a good boy to your Mommy now?” 

“Yea…” 

Chuckling softly, Namjoon straightens up to face you. Your eyes are covered with tears as you look back at him. “How—” you gasp, “What are you doing here?” 

Because I’ll chase you to the end of the world if I could. 

Those are the words that Namjoon has always wanted to say to you. A promise that he never got a chance to say before you left him. It was a mistake that he had been dreading the most when he first received your letter, along with a copy of your sonogram and your final word of goodbye. 

“Keeping a promise,” he merely says. “I think we have a lot to talk about.” 

A deep sigh escapes your lips. The sound pains him. But the sight of every tension being lifted from your shoulders gives him a sense of calm. 

“I guess we do,” you whisper to him with a broken smile. 

A lot of them. 

He can almost hear those words coming from you. Just like he almost says out loud,

I have all the time in the world to talk and listen now. For you. 

For your fall tune, I think this song will fit perfectly well for this.

𝖙𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖋𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖆𝖉𝖊: dia’s birthday bash 2024 ⇝ closed!

[jadeoru]

liar's love.

00: prologue -- masterlist

warnings: family issues, briefly mentioned religious trauma, smoking, slight alcoholism, unhealthy coping mechanisms, broken childhood, depression, self harm (burning skin with cigarettes), overall pretty angsty, you have been warned!

She remembers when she was a kid; watching models twice her age strut down a pristinely clean catwalk, looking flawless. She remembers the flame that ignited within her, her eyes sparkled at her cheap television. It was old - older than her, and it frequently froze and glitched. She remembers battling the dust that rested on top of it, choking on it as she hit it with whatever was closest to her, trying to get it to work again. Static brought her a strange sense of nostalgia; the snow reminded her of cold evenings, barely back from school and immediately locking herself in her room. She’d stay up until the sun rose, over-analysing each and every model she saw: every move, down to the smallest of habits. She wrote down everything in a pink glitter gel pen, inside of her unicorn notebook she spent all of her allowance on. Before bed, she’d read through every note, with the television blaring in the background.

The noise created a shield, a blanket, that helped protect her from the outside world. To her, her bedroom was an escape. In her eyes, she thought it was normal; the shouting, the sounds of broken glass, furniture being thrown to the ground. She wasn’t aware that it was wrong, but it made her feel bad. Her parents shouted a lot, and although she didn’t comprehend what exactly was happening, she knew she didn’t like it. She was too young to understand the words they’d scream. Instead, she shrugged it off, waiting for the day her teacher would mention the terms; definitions. Unfortunately, ‘affair’, ‘alcoholic’ and ‘divorce’ weren’t relevant to her education. When the snow danced on the screen, and the low humming static snapped her back into her sad reality, she felt a pit in her stomach. She didn’t have the vocabulary to describe it, other than “painful, but not physical”. Whenever the aching feeling washed over her; found home inside of the deepest parts of her mind - where not even sunlight could reach, she’d reach for the remote, and fill it with noise.

She always liked fashion, although due to her financial situation she could never express her passion the way she wished she could. She remembers staring through the windows of designer stores, up the ‘rich people’ side of town. She’d take her mom’s phone, and take pictures of all the beautiful gowns that were on display. She was never really sure why she did it, she just liked looking at them; drawing them in her unicorn notebook and imagining it was her wearing them. She dreamed of the day she could wear those clothes. Unfortunately the second-hand charity shops in her town didn’t have the extravagant garments that she’d find behind those windows. Her fanciest dress belonged to an old lady before it fell into her hands. It barely even fit her. She didn’t like the life her parents put her in, but she wouldn’t dare complain. Her father, although he never had much to say to her, made it clear that her opinions weren’t worth his time. If she had a problem, he’d send her to her room, to ‘pray it away.’

She always had a weird relationship with god.

She remembers when she came home from school early one day, to the television accidentally left on. She didn’t know where her parents were, they were often gone. She learned not to question it. Instead, she took her shoes off, and curiously checked what show her mother left playing.

That was when she first discovered modelling, and quickly she fell in love with it.

The camera’s blind spots hid a lot of things from her, she realised as she got older. She learned much more when the camera’s stopped rolling than she ever did on tv. She was fooled by the tabloid press into thinking her life would become a life-long party. She thought she’d finally have the life she’d dream of; she’d earn her way to happiness. She never had much free-time. As a model, she needed time to ensure she was always in peak physical condition, to meet the demands of the job. As a freelance model, she used to spend up to eight hours a day in front of a camera. Sometimes she’d take a break, and enjoy a day to herself, but sometimes, that would make her think. And whenever she thought, the empty feeling from her youth revisited her. Which is why she worked hard, consistently; constantly. She buried herself in work, to distract herself from her cruel mind. Maybe if she worked hard enough, she’d finally feel fulfilled.

Luckily, when her career started to kick off, and her name started to get recognised, she found a modelling agency that would support and represent her with pride: the Tsugi Agency. They helped project her in ways she couldn’t fathom: booking frequent jobs, scheduling shoots, runways, interviews, everything she needed to boost her career to the fame she has now. They provided help and wisdom, encouraging her and helping her reach the confidence she didn’t know she was capable of having. She finally had the life she dreamed of as a kid. Her face was plastered on billboards all over the country, and she couldn’t step outside of her house without people recognising her face, knowing her name. It was weird, and there were plenty of times she felt as though she didn’t deserve any of this. Despite the fact that she was living the life she dreamed of,  it felt wrong. She distracted herself from those thoughts by working. She bottled up every negative feeling, just as she did in her family home; the static television filling the emptiness inside of her. She ignored her body's need for breaks. She ignored how desperately it needed to release the growing dread and sadness that she buried deep within her.

Instead, she worked.

She remembered the first time she held a cigarette to her lips; the smoke hit the back of her throat, causing her to choke. It was weird, and she didn’t like it all that much, but she didn’t stop. The smoke filled her lungs, providing her with warmth similar to a hug - it was the closest thing she had.  She remembers when her thoughts got the best of her, and she put the cigarette out on her skin for the first time. It didn’t hurt much, especially in comparison to the pain her mind brought her. In a way, it was relaxing. The light scars that accompanied the burns made her feel stable, secure. But the pain was only temporary, and the guilt that followed her after never felt worth it.

Eventually, that wasn't enough to distract her. Her shaky hands brought the cigarette to her lips, but the smoke no longer felt like home. It wasn’t enough to satiate the ache that begged to be hidden. The ache that only seemed to go away when she’d suppress it, burying it in other problems: Her sweet distraction. That was the night she tried alcohol for the first time. At that moment, when the bottle crashed onto the floor, shattering into shards that reflected the broken remnants of herself, she understood why there were always so many empty whiskey bottles next to the sink. As she witnessed her father’s drunken state, she remembers when she promised she’d never drink; swore to herself that she’d never end up like him. But, as the bottles began piling up in her room, she came to the cruel realisation that she was always her father’s daughter. Nothing could ever change that. Even as a child, she mimicked his coping mechanisms without realising; blaring the television, drowning out her problems - to the present, burying herself in work.

Distractions. 

Her childhood habits followed her into her adolescence, providing her the comfort her parents failed to teach her. Eventually, when she stared into the mirror, it was her father’s face that stared back. As his angry eyes stared into her, her own screaming filled her ears; nails grasping her hair for stability,

She decided to give sobriety a try.

It ultimately made her worse.

There was only one person that understood her, and that was her stylist, Hitoka Yachi. She was younger than her, only by a year, and she was beautiful. She wasn’t as experienced as her in the modelling field, but her enthusiasm made up for her inexperience. She was great; the living embodiment of sunshine. She could light up a room just by entering it. In a way, she kind of envied Yachi. She wished happiness could come to her as naturally as it did to Hitoka. Her smile filled out her cheeks after almost every sentence, like muscle memory. She was one of the only people in her career that treated her like a human being, and not an object to shape and mold to their desire.  She always felt comfortable around Hitoka. When she saw the burn marks that littered her skin, in places her clothes would usually cover, (she was a model after all, she couldn’t let the media see her flaws.) her voice was filled with genuine concern, a tone she only heard a few times prior to that. A voice she never heard as a child. 

Yachi understood her. - in ways no one ever had. She cared for her, in a moment of her life when no one else had. They often spent late nights together; after a frustratingly eventful day. They stayed in her dressing room, and talked about every problem that crossed their minds. She opened up to Hitoka, and never once did she shame her. She was flawed; made so many terrible decisions, mistakes, and honestly spent most of her life being a terrible person, but Hitoka never  judged her: she listened to her, and understood. She saw through the mask she wore, she knew the fragile, broken person that hid behind it,

And yet she stayed.

“Hitoka?” her voice was low, almost a whisper. She turned her head to the side, facing her friend, who was lying on the cold floor with her, staring at the ceiling next to her. “Hm?” Her head turned too, a brief silence encompassing the room as they held eye contact. Her mouth opened, lips twitching slightly as she hesitated to speak.

“You shouldn’t be my friend.” Her words were certain; demanding. Her tone was like a warning. Yachi’s eyebrow raised, a small smile creeping onto her face, the same smile she never struggled to wear. The same smile that she shared with everyone, spreading it around the office like a breath of fresh air. “And why’s that?”

“Because,” she began, turning her head back up to the ceiling, “I'm a mess. You deserve to spend your time with someone happy. - like you.”

She laughed, loudly, it almost made her feel stupid; regret even opening her mouth to begin with. “I’ll leave it up to me to choose who I’m friends with, thank you very much.” she spoke matter-of-factly, elbowing her gently; playfully. “I want to be your friend.” Yachi added, noticing the uncertainty in her friend’s eyes. Her voice was significantly softer, she spoke her name like it was natural to her, like she’d been saying it all her life. She sighed in response, “I’m miserable. I’m going to drain you.” She briefly paused, before continuing, “I’m- I’m going to make you miserable.” She did a bad job at hiding the shakiness of her voice. 

She squeezed her eyes shut, both to fight the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes, and to brace herself for the oncoming insults she would inevitably throw at her. She waited for Yachi to realise the truth: That she really shouldn’t be her friend. Although she knew it to be true, she silently hoped she was wrong. She was broken. She was an empty shell of a young girl that used to be so bright, so full of life, so passionate. She ruined everything she touched, everything she loved inevitably tainted by the infectious evil that nestled its way into her fragile core. Her life was a constant losing streak, and she prepared herself to lose the one person that made her feel normal; safe. Before she responded, she flinched slightly as Yachi grabbed onto her hand, squeezing it reassuringly.

“It’s okay, I won’t let you.”

Over the course of a few months, they quickly became best friends. They were inseparable. Finally, she had something in her life that made her feel valuable, and special. She had a constant. She had finally found the key to recovery; the lighter that reignited the fire inside of her that died so long ago. She found someone that made her realise she wasn’t a horrible monster that only caused destruction,

She was just young, and scared.

All good things come to an end. She knew this. She had everything good taken away from her, that’s just how things were. It always happened, no matter how hard she tried to fight it.  But still, she mustered up the wounded faith that was forced upon her, and prayed for a change. She prayed for God to take away her pain, and grant her the freedom and salvation that was ripped away from her.

As usual, he never listened. 

She remembers walking into her dressing room, coffee in her hand as she prepared for another busy day of shooting. She looked forward to seeing her; excited to talk to her about a funny encounter at the café she spent her morning in. She looked forward to seeing her signature smile; hearing her laugh that always made her happy. The laugh that made her laugh in return. But as her eyes scanned the room, there was not a single trace of her to be found. Instead, standing in her side of the room, was a tall man, with glasses hung lowly on the end of his nose. A man with dark hair, and a cold, focused gaze. Not Yachi. He had a clipboard in his hand, and was meticulously writing something down on it. Before you could even question the stranger, his eyes turned to you, and he quickly filled the suffocating silence.

“You must be Yn. It’s nice to meet you.” a fake, sickeningly polite smile plastered on his face. 

“My name is Akaashi Keiji, and I’ll be your new stylist from now on.”

TAGLIST (open): @wyrcan @kawamarii @moucheslove @mollyrolls @t8tiana @eggyrocks @soobin1437 @dazqa @hibernatinghamster @starkyu @g0vernment-hook3r @giocriedpower

[auclairedetoru]

Hi bestie!! I’m not sure if this is where I request things since I’ve never done this before😓🙏

But could you perhaps rights something about Levi?? And reader who were engaged and moved in together but ultimately ended up breaking up their engagement due to spending less time together because of work (Levi) and school( med school reader)???? But then after a few years they run into each other???

I’m jot sure if this makes sense, but If you consider thank you you’re amazing and I LOVE your writing 🥰🫶

Hi noonie~ Timeline might not make sense because I'm too lazy to create an understandable and logical one but this is fiction and in the words of Barbie, anything is possible.

Also, Levi has both parents in this fic because he's already suffered enough in his original story, he deserves a stable home life in this.

Levi prides himself on living with no regrets. No matter what happens, what he chooses to do, he considers it all part of his development and growth. Have some of the choices resulted in situations he didn't want to be in? Of course, but he still won't regret them, because he learned from them and changed.

But he does regret one thing.

See, back in his early 20s, Levi was in a relationship, which comes to a shock to many of the people he met later in life because he's always been single and not interested, but yes, he was not only dating but engaged to a beauty girl named y/n.

They started dating in college after a mutual friend set them up. Levi didn't want to date anyone at first, but then he saw her and immediately was drawn to her. She was so pretty, so kind, and so gentle, so he wasn't surprised when he learned that she was a med student hoping to become a pediatrician.

Things developed quickly between them. She moved in after 4 months and on their first anniversary, Levi proposed to her and of course she said yes. His mother was worried for them when he broke the news to her, everything happened too fast and she warned him that it might lead to problems in the future, and that's the only thing he regrets.

He should've listened to his mother.

Being older and not studying the same thing, Levi got to graduate earlier than her, and because of his qualifications he was quick to find a job that paid him well enough to live comfortably with his fiancée. The first couple of months were perfect, they were both happy and content with their lives, but slowly and without realising it, they started to drift apart, too busy focusing on work and school.

At one point, the only time they were together was in bed while sleeping. They were barely seeing each other, let alone talking. She eventually confronted him about it, but with the exhaustion and lack of communication, their conversation quickly turned into an argument, and instead of solving the problem they went to bed angry at each other. One night turned into two, two into three, three into a week, a week into a month... They weren't surprised when they finally sat down to talk again and it resulted in a break up.

They were each other's first stable relationship and couldn't imagine a life without the other so the fact they did not want to end it is understandable, but they both knew it was not healthy for them to stay together. Levi cried when she handed him her engagement ring and he refused to take it, telling her that it will always be hers no matter what. Her final wish as she was about to leave their once shared apartment was to have one last kiss, so he planted a small one on her forehead and told her that he'll find her again, if not in this life then he'll look for her in the next one.

Fast forward to now, Levi left his first job. After working there for a year, he realised they were using him to do work outside of his requirements knowing he was a newbie who's too afraid to say no, that's why he was working overtime and even at home. His current job is much better, they pay him more than the previous one and he already got a promotion. He made new friends and feels like he's in a better place in life now.

Well, except his relationship status.

He tried to go on dates, to meet new people, but he always found himself comparing them to y/n which wasn't fair at all, especially since in his eyes everything she did was nothing less than perfect. So for now, he has settled on being single, hoping he'll meet the one eventually.

He thinks about y/n a lot. She must be graduating soon. He hopes she went through with becoming a pediatrician, it's always been her dream and he couldn't think of a better person to take care of tiny and vulnerable humans than her. He wants to check on her, and he tried before, but she must've changed her phone number because an old man picked up last time he tried (and he unfortunately got an earful of cuss words that he didn't even know existed).

Levi remembers promising her the best graduation party to celebrate the successful end of years of hard work, the memory is still very vivid in his brain.

“... I'll fill the whole place with all your favourite foods. All your family and friends will be there-”

“Your parents need to be there too!”

“You want to invite them?”

“Of course! I love them more than you!”

“hey-”

He really regrets not listening to his mother when she told him not to rush things. He wonders how things would've turned out if they didn't move in together and got engaged in a matter of a year. Would they have been okay with not talking often with each other? Would they have argued the way they did? Would their relationship have lasted longer than it did?

Sigh... He misses her so much. To the point he started seeing things and they somehow remind him of her. Whether it's food, clothes, and even decor, he finds himself thinking about how she would've reacted to them.

He wishes he could see and talk to her again. He was so privileged when they were together and he didn't even realise that. Getting to look at her beautiful face everyday, hear her voice, hear her laugh, watch her do normal every day things, they all seemed so simple at the moment, but they went on to become things he's wishing to have around again.

... And somehow his wishes are heard.

“Levi ?”

He thinks he's hallucinating at first. He's missed her so much his brain has started making him hear things to cope. But then he turns around and there she is, looking as beautiful as the day he last saw her.

“Oh my god, it's been so long,” she smiles as she slowly approaches him. Levi could cry at the simple sight of her, and he's the type of person who's always in control when it comes to his emotions, but not when it comes to her, though.

“Y/n... Hi, how's it going?”

“Oh, you know, just preparing for last minute things before graduation next week.”

The sweet sound of her nonchalant laugh is like drinking a nice cold cup of water on a hot summer day. He wishes he could have a recording of it and listen to it whenever he needs to.

“Right, congratulations in advance.”

“Thank you! Here, actually,” she reaches inside her bag and pulls out an envelope of sorts, “an invitation to attend the ceremony and everything. I was supposed to give it to a friend but they unfortunately can't make it, I'd love for you to come, though.”

A small, nearly invisible smile is drawn on his lips, one that he knows only she can spot. He gently takes the envelope from her hands and that's when he sees it, her engagement ring wrapped so beautifully around her right ring finger instead of her left. The sight of it makes his heart skip several beats. Does that mean she still thinks about him? About their relationship? Does she miss him the way he misses? Does she wish things would've been different? He wants to ask her all those questions, but he feels like they're too inappropriate. After all, this is the first time they've seen each other in years.

“I'll make sure to be there for you.”

She smiles back at him, her cheeks burning at his choice of words as she looks down shyly and Levi is satisfied knowing he still has that effect on her, “bring your parents as well, you know how much I've wanted them to attend such an important day.”

Levi chuckles lightly but nods, “of course, they wouldn't miss it for the world.”

After saying goodbye (which they honestly both didn't want to do), he looks back down at the invite to her graduation on top of the forgotten bottle of shampoo he was reading, and he feels very happy when he sees that she did in fact go through with becoming a pediatrician. He'll definitely attend, and he'll bring his parents too, just as it always has been planned.

A laugh escapes his lips as he remembers the day they broke up when he promised her he'll find her again.

“Not if I find you first.”

She was right... She did find him first.

Struggled a lot with this one, had to rewrite it multiple times because for some reason it wouldn't save 😭

[flowerandblood]

The Man in the Black Crown

[ Amor • Aemond x Psyche • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, oral sex, smut, angst, violence, mention of the murder attempt, trauma, mourning ]

[ description: After she is attacked in a fair by a strange man and narrowly avoids death, her father the king decides that from now on she will be watched over by one of his ‘ghosts’, a assassin acting on his orders, wearing a black mask. The man follows her like a shadow, accompanied by their past, which keeps her awake at night. Gothic horror love story, angst, sexual tension, verydark Aemond. ]

This story is several requests combined into one: sworn protector x female; Amor x Psyche; Phantom of the Opera! Aemond x female. I took the liberty of creating a completely new story from this, having only elements of each of these requests.

Series & Characters Moodboard Lady Walford Moodboard Gothic & Horror Sensual Moodboard

Part 1 - The Man with the Black Mask | Part 2 - The Man with the Empty Heart | Part 3 - The Man with the Lost Soul | Part 4 - The Man with the Cold Mouth | Part 5 - The Man with the Deep Scar | Part 6 - The Man with the One Eye | Part 7 - The Man with the Golden Gift | Part 9 - The Man with the Bloody Sword | Part 10 - The Man in the Black Gloves | Part 11 - The Man in the Death Cloak | Part 12 - The Man with the Pearly Hair | Part 13 - The Man with the Fiery Gaze

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

Never before in her life had she felt such happiness and such relief as when she saw her mother, alive, smiling, standing in her chamber. She dreamt of it in solitude, heartbreakingly trying to come to terms with the fact that she would only see her and convey everything she wanted to tell her in the next life.

Instead, she could burst out crying like a little child, find herself in her arms again, smelling her wonderful, calming scent, her hands stroking her head and her back. For a long moment she couldn't calm down, sobbing loudly, apologising to her for everything, babbling about how scared she was, how much she was suffering, how she was dying every day at the thought of not protecting her.

When she calmed down at last she sat with her on her bed, realising that someone must have led to this miracle, that something had happened that had completely escaped her attention, that there was someone else in the coffin or no one at all, that someone had helped her flee.

"I helped the Prince escape when he was a child. He offered to help me run away if I secured my brother's support for him. When he found out what your father wanted to do to me, he arrived at his call." She said calmly, stroking her head, and she swallowed loudly, remembering that Vhagar's real name was Aemond, that he had taken her on the table a moment ago, her thighs sticky from her moisture and his seed.

All this time he knew her mother was alive.

I gave her poison, after which she just fell asleep.

She's free now.

She stared in disbelief at her mother's lap, realising with a rapidly beating heart that he had never said that he had killed her.

That he had never lied to her.

She felt a wave of heat, a wave of gratitude, of devotion, of tenderness surge through her body. She thought she would do anything for him, that she would never repay him for this miracle that had just embraced her with his arms. She lifted her gaze, recalling with fear her younger brother, the fact that he was officially the heir to the throne.

"What about Loras?" She asked in a trembling voice, her mother stroking her head reassuringly and tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.

"He has seen me, he is in shock. My brother remains with him in his chamber so that he is not alone, but for now he cannot leave. Before the coronation, he will have to give up his rights to the throne in front of everyone, agreeing that you should become Queen instead." She said calmly, and she breathed a heavy sigh of relief, hugging her face to her chest, hiding in her embrace as she had when she was a child.

"…are you willing to do it? Marry him?" She asked uncertainly, and she nodded.

"Yes."

That night she waited impatiently for him, knowing he would come, knowing what she wanted to give him. She surprised him with her directness and initiative, the low groans of his pleasure as her mouth clenched and sucked on his manhood made pleasant shivers run through her, her walls throbbing greedily around nothing.

Both of them were surprised at how quickly she managed to bring him to the edge, his noises were full of desire and vulnerability and when he came in her mouth with a loud sigh of pleasure as she swallowed bravely everything that came out of him, wanting him to be satisfied with her.

When she released him from between her lips with a loud splat and looked up at him from below she noticed that his face looked completely different − he was panting loudly, shuddering, stroking her hair, his healthy eye wide open, his lips parted, his length still twitching, swollen from his fulfilment.

"− you will make a fine Queen −" He whispered with some kind of recognition, and she felt his words deep between her thighs. He pushed her wanting her to lie on her back, clearly planning to spend the whole night with her, but she stopped him with a movement of her hands, tightening them on his shoulders.

"− no − no, we can't −" She whispered pleadingly, her eyebrows arched in pain.

There was nothing she wanted more after seeing her mother whole and healthy than to give herself to him, however, if she was to become his wife, she could not allow him to do so.

He furrowed his brow, shocked, looking at her in disbelief.

"− are you mocking me? − I have no intention of pulling it out of you all night −" He said dryly, grabbing her hips and pulling her closer − she squirmed quietly when she felt him rub his manhood between her thighs, an amused smirk appeared on his face when he felt how wet she was.

"− you fucking want this −" He hummed; she tightened her hands on his tunic, shaking her head.

"− I want this − but the court will think I am your whore − I will never be respected by your side − is it not enough that I am the daughter of a traitor? −" She asked in a trembling voice and saw that he froze, looking at her in shock, his lips tightened into a thin line.

"− I will kill with my own hands anyone who dares to insult my Queen −" He hissed. She raised her hand and stroked his cheek − she saw him hesitate, his gaze softened slightly.

"− I ask this of you as your future wife − let us not spend the night together until our nuptials −" She whispered, stroking his scar with her fingertips − she heard him sigh heavily and curse quietly, furious.

He stood up, tying his breeches, staring at her with a clenched jaw and she raised herself up on her elbows, covering her thighs, looking at him gratefully.

"You're going to finish me off, woman." He said with annoyance, and she swallowed loudly, lowering her gaze. She felt his fingers grasp her chin and forced her to look at him.

"Tomorrow, you will accompany me during my council with the lords. You will stand by my side when I tell them of our decision. Do you understand?" He asked coolly, and she nodded, feeling hot in her heart at the thought that he really wanted this.

He really wanted her to be his wife.

The next day, new servants walked into her chamber, looking at her with trepidation, apparently afraid that if they offended her she would tell everything to the dreaded One-Eyed Prince, who would cut their throats.

In silence they helped her to dress and combed her hair − even though she should be wearing mourning, she put on a light navy blue gown with exposed shoulders and long red sleeves reaching to the ground, her and her future husband's colours.

In accordance with his wishes, she was led into the small council chamber, where lords loyal to him over the years as well as those who had joined him later were seated at the table − she was relieved to see her uncle and her mother among them.

This time, as soon as she spotted her future husband sitting at the head of the table she bowed humbly, causing the conversation to fall silent.

"My King." She said softly and lifted her gaze to him − his sapphire now covered by a black eye patch, his healthy eye looking at her with satisfaction and contentment. He nodded at her.

"Come closer, my Lady." He said in a firm, dry voice, and she headed towards him obediently, surprising most of those gathered by the fact that she stopped beside his chair − Criston Cole moved restlessly, keeping his hand on the hilt of his sword.

"Conquering a city and regaining the throne is one thing, however, maintaining it and keeping the peace is another. The simplest way to appease the terrified citizens, in my opinion, would be a union between the feuding families, heralding a new beginning. That is why I have made decision to take Lord Walford's daugther as my wife and that she will be crowned with me during our nuptials." He said lowly − an uproar and dissenting voices echoed around her, her heart beat hard in horror as one of the lords stood up and pointed a finger at her.

"This is treacherous blood, my King. It passes from generation to generation, it cannot be trusted. Send her back to the monastery, my daughter would be a more suitable candidate for your wife." He said looking at him with outrage, however her future husband's face remained impassive and indifferent.

"I declare my will, my Lord, not to ask your opinion. Have you supported me only to have me marry your daughter? Will you turn against me if I do not?" He asked coldly, with emphasis, wanting to push him to the wall. The man swallowed loudly, shaking his head.

"No, of course not, my King, however you must not be fooled, she will want to avenge her father and put her younger brother on the throne, she…" He didn't finish as a fiery argument broke out around her − her uncle stood up from his seat, furious, saying that it was thanks to him that they had taken over the city and he didn't wish anyone to speak to his niece in such a way − the other lord said he only did it because he wanted to be King himself.

"Why would I want to avenge my father?" She asked, looking straight into the eyes of the lord who had insulted her earlier − the man fell silent surprised that she had the courage to interrupt the men's discussion and interject.

"Because I believed he ordered my mother to be killed? Because if it wasn't for our King I would have took my own life? Because my father wanted to sell me like a mere whore to whoever would offer more?"

She asked in a trembling voice, a tense silence fell around her.

"I wanted nothing more than his death. Our King can attest that when I realised that my, what I thought at the time, ghost had connections to your cause I offered to help the Prince and do whatever he wanted, if only he would agree to spare my little brother's life. I told him this without knowing who was hiding under the mask."

"You could have done it because you sensed something was coming and wanted to warn your father!" Said one of the men, slamming his fist on the table.

"That's enough." Growled their King, but she wasn't about to leave that comment unanswered.

"If I loved him so much, why didn't I warn him? Why, after discovering the shelter under the bed in my mother's chamber, did I not inform him that the Prince might have taken refuge there, that he had survived?"

Silence answered her − the lords looked at each other uncertainly with grim faces. She heard her future husband sigh heavily, running his hand over his face.

"I appreciate your devotion, my Lords, but my decision is not negotiable. Let us proceed with the details of the coronation so that we can get it over with. I understand your concerns, fear not, you will fill your purses with gold."

Despite the extreme distrust and coldness with which her husband's decision was received, it looked as if his allies must have struggled to accept it, seeing that he was taking it seriously, not wanting to lose out in his eyes, hoping for close and important positions in his future council.

She watched from the sidelines with the ease with which he set them up like pawns on his chessboard, seeing exactly what they wanted, the greed and vanity behind their grand words of allegiance.

He knew that he could not trust them completely, that he had to control them.

Even though he didn't have a mask on his face, he somehow put it on in front of them, not letting any of his emotions or thoughts come to the surface that he didn't want to share with them.

She saw his greedy, thirsty gaze, knew he was dying of rage and irritation, struggling to keep his promise not to go near her since that night.

He craved her and couldn't touch her.

When the day of the coronation finally arrived her maids prepared her bath in the morning, dried and combed her hair, helping her put on her beautiful new black and red gown, a gift from her future husband, the colour of his house.

She felt a kind of pride when she noticed that the shade suited her − her dark hair contrasted with the ruby long sleeves, her hair partly pinned up in a bun at the back of her head, partly loose, flowing down her bare back.

She walked out of the fortress for the first time in weeks, accompanied by guards, and was led to the carriage that would take her, escorted by Criston Cole along with her mother and her brother, to the temple where the nuptial and coronation ceremony was to take place.

"Do you remember what you are supposed to say?" Their mother asked Loras, correcting his robe, also the colours of red and black, proof that he too was from now on relinquishing his father's lineage to his new house.

"Yes." He muttered, looking at her in horror, pale, his large, dark eyes glazed over from tears. "If I say all this, won't they cut my throat?"

She pressed her lips together at his words and reached out with her hand, grasping his fingers, squeezing them, looking at him tenderly.

"No one will hurt you again. I will become the wife of a Prince, and then a King, and you will retain the title of lord and inherit the estate that once belonged to our father. Everything will be as it should be." She said calmly, for the first time sincerely believing that their lives would finally be at peace, that her husband would keep his word.

When they arrived there were crowds of onlookers waiting around and in the temple itself, horrified people not knowing what to think about what had happened, watching them in silence.

Her younger brother was led onto the podium with their mother, much to their consternation − she heard shouts that it was a miracle, that the Queen was dead. Her mother placed a hand on his shoulder as he began to recite what he had been ordered to say.

"I, Larys Walford, as the son of a traitor, renounce my claim to the crown in favour of its rightful heir, Prince Aemond Targaryen, and my sister, his future wife, retaining by their grace the title of Lord." He said in a trembling, childish voice from which she felt a tightening in her throat.

He came downstairs, standing behind her, heading with her to the entrance, where her uncle was waiting for her to lead her inside instead of her father. She grabbed his arm and nodded that she was ready.

When they went inside all eyes were fixed on them, but for some reason she felt no fear or panic. All she looked at was the man who stood in front of the huge altar, behind him the tall windows through which the sun fell, illuminating his pale face, his eye patch, his long, almost white hair.

He stood upright, proud, prepared for this moment for many years, confidence, calmness and determination beaming from him − she saw that he swallowed hard at the sight of her, a barely visible grimace of satisfaction and contentment on his lips, from which she felt heat in her lower abdomen.

He craved not only the crown, but also her.

It was all about to become just his in the eyes of the gods.

Her uncle gave him her hand, which he grasped in his own, looking down at her, his gaze seeming soft to her despite the coldness, her fingers tightening lightly on his skin.

"We are gathered here to unite, bless and anoint these two people entrusting the fate of us all into their hands. Do you, standing here before the face of the gods, wish to join in holy matrimony of your own free will?"

"Yes." They both replied in a confident, clear, calm voice.

"Have either of you, standing here before me, made a commitment to someone else that might stand in the way of this sacred union of marriage?"

"No." Again they both answered, she saw his gaze change with each passing moment, as if he was slowly realising that this was really happening, that they were just becoming one.

"Therefore, I, the envoy and servant of the gods on earth, call upon you to take an oath:

In the face of the gods and all assembled witnesses, I vow that what was empty becomes full, what was broken becomes whole, and what was separated becomes one, now and for all eternity.

They said with difficulty. She felt tears gather in her eyes with each word, her throat tightened, their fingers clenched on their hands − she saw his lower lip tremble slightly.

There was a complete silence around them that made her hear their accelerated breaths perfectly − they let go of each other's hands when the priest ordered them to face him and kneel.

She closed her eyes as he anointed first his forehead and hands with holy oils and then hers, while saying that by the will of the gods they would rule this kingdom.

She heard Ser Criston Cole take a black steel crown, adorned with rubies, from the altar and walk over to her husband, placing it on his head. He went back and took another crown from it, which was in the form of a diadem with ringing ruby beads − when he placed it on her head it would fall on either side on thin strings, connecting to each other at the back.

Her husband stood up, and she rose with him, Criston Cole shouting behind them.

"Long live the King!"

"Long live the King! Long live the King! Long live the King!" His lordship cheered, and behind them the other assembled people began to chant, simple folk who had watched everything from afar.

Loud applause echoed all around them, and she thought that people, like her, were relieved at the thought that the worst was behind them, that perhaps there would be peace at last.

They returned to the fortress on horseback so that all those gathered could see them − she rode a little way behind and heard the people shouting her name, calling her their queen, running after her.

She looked at them with some kind of emotion, remembering how they had thrown flowers at her feet when she returned alone to the keep, thinking that her mother was dead.

They were welcomed in the fortress with a huge feast of dancing and revelry, seated behind a large wooden table, receiving congratulations from the lords and their families along with vows of allegiance, which they accepted with a nod.

She knew they were both dyingly exhausted and dreamed only of rest and respite. Her husband did not ask her to dance, however, she did not mind.

She felt no need to do so, although to her surprise, she was filled with contentment.

She looked at her husband out of the corner of her eye − he was sitting with his profile to her listening to the words of another of the lords, the black crown on his head looked noble.

It seemed to her that he was born to wear it.

When at last they were able to retire to bed, her husband ordered her to go with him to his chamber, so she did so without a word of objection, and her servants followed her.

He watched sitting in a chair as they helped her to take off her gown, trying to remove the diadem from her head first, however, he immediately protested.

"No. The diadem is to stay." He said coldly, in a slow respectful movement pulling the crown off his head, placing it beside him on the table, looking at it thoughtfully.

Her servants walked out when she was finally left in just her nightgown, closing the door behind them − her husband raised his eyes at her, his gaze expressing displeasure.

"Shall I rip it off you?" He asked lowly, so she pulled at the ties of her nightgown and slipped it off her shoulders, letting it fall lightly to the floor.

She saw her husband-king lick his lower lip involuntarily, seeing her naked body at last in the candlelight, able to admire her shamelessly without having to rely solely on his sense of touch.

He rose slowly from his chair with a creak of wood, approaching her unhurriedly, towering over her. She shuddered as his hands ran gently over her shoulders, up to her neck and cheeks, a pleasant, warm shiver passed through her even though she was cold.

He surprised her when he leaned down and brushed his lips against hers, barely rubbing against them without giving her a full kiss. She sighed in delight as she felt his familiar touch and scent, her fingers ran over the soft skin of his cheeks reciprocating his caress.

She moaned quietly as he grabbed her with his arm around her waist and pulled her closer, his lips greedily pressed against hers in a loud kiss as if he were tasting the fruit − they both gasped as the tips of their tongues licked each other tentatively.

"− I'll lick you good down there before I slide it into you − hm? −" He murmured running his nose over her cheek and she felt her insides throbbing hard at his words. She nodded quickly, running her fingers through his hair impatiently, looking up at him pleadingly.

She squealed quietly as he grabbed her hips and lifted her with ease, walking with her towards the royal bed that had once belonged to her father, and his father before that.

She sighed as her warm body collided with the cold sheets, her husband taking her thighs in his hands and spreading them in front of him, looking down at her with slightly parted lips.

"Mmm."

He murmured, and then leaned over her, nuzzling his face into her warmth between her thighs, with shy, tentative movements sliding the tip of his tongue inside her, teasing her deliberately, a moan of pleasure escaping her lips, her body arching backwards as his nose rubbed against her bud.

"− please − please, my husband −" She mumbled out, feeling her whole body burn with desire − for the time he hadn't visited her she had satisfied herself with her own hand, but it wasn't the same − she needed and wanted only him. She heard him hum with satisfaction at her words, watching her reaction with contentment.

"− so impatient − I was thinking only about this listening to those fucking fools −" He muttered between one lick of his tongue and the next, making her body tremble in his hands.

"− about what I'm going to do to my wife tonight −" He breathed out − she moaned loudly, surprised, clasping her hands in his hair as his tongue suddenly burst deep inside her.

He began to eat her like a starving man with a loud click of their mixed moisture, the tip of his tongue rubbing and pressing the spot inside her from which her walls throbbed wonderfully, her hips began to push desperately against his face.

"− my King − right here, yes, please −" She was panting and whimpering with pleasure when she felt the shockingly intense fulfilment shake her body, waves of heat flowing through her one after another − she was writhing in front of him, thinking only of the fact that he was her King and she had just come on his face.

She heard him sigh in contentment, with slow, lazy flicks of his tongue licking off everything that flowed out of her.

She looked at him with misty eyes when she heard him rise up on his knees, wiping his face with the back of his hand, reaching up to clasp of his tunic, staring at her as if he was about to devour her.

"− as your King and husband, I swear to you that you'll fall asleep and wake up with this inside you −" He murmured with a grin as he untied his breeches, releasing his hard, swollen erection, its tip glistening from his own wetness.

She spread her thighs obediently in front of him as he leaned over her, placing one hand at her head, the other guiding the fat head of his cock against her entrance, still throbbing from her fulfillment, and he pushed into her, a moan of delight escaping from their throats.

He slid deep into her with one sure thrust and immediately began to slam into her, panting loudly along with her, imposing an intense, fierce pace, his thighs slapping again and again against her buttocks with the loud click of her juices.

"− oh gods, yes − fuck, I've missed this −" He breathed out, rooting into her with sure, deep thrusts of his hips, sliding into her with ease − she reached her hand up to his eye patch and pulled it off in one sure motion, startling him completely.

He groaned low as she grasped his cheeks in her hands and pulled his face to hers, their lips colliding in a sticky, loud kiss, their bodies hitting each other fast and hard.

"− yes − please, yes, fuck me, my King − I'm yours, I'm yours, I'm yours −" She mewled meeting each of his thrusts with the bucking of her hips, one of her hands clamped down on his buttock allowing him to pound into her harder. She could feel him twitching all over, close to fulfilment after such a long separation, her insides sucked desperately at his cock, wanting to keep him inside her.

"− gods, stop clenching − stop, oh, fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck −" He muttered before fulfilment shook his body and his hot seed spilled inside her − they were both panting, looking at each other with misty eyes, trying to prolong this sensation with the motions of their sweaty bodies.

She sighed quietly as he leaned in and kissed her deeply, pulsing hard, still moving inside her with involuntary rocking of his hips.

"− you are made for me −" He sighed in relief, his voice filled with calmness, as if stating a fact he had read about in some book.

"− you were born to be mine −"

______

Aemond Taglist:

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