#(this man is like a father and above else he is all she has beside mercy and storm's robby)

[allvalley]

i just think that nin.a should be cobra’s champion but realistically, i feel silv.er has her as a wild card. so he never puts her directly in anyone’s path.

#* ―― ｟ OUT OF CHARACTER ｠ ⸻ muse ▻ welcome to the karate tournament . #* ―― ｟ GIANINA CASTILLO ｠ ⸻ muse ▻ hello darkness my old friend . #(nina is THE wild card) #(i do think her loyalty to silver is too strong to be broken even by the end of s6) #(this man is like a father and above else he is all she has beside mercy and storm's robby) #(she doesn't have friends and i think i made a deliverate choice to not have her interact with a lot of people asdfghj) #(so reaching to her will be hard) #(here thinking she would join sensei kim likel)

[catsteeth]

Sugar & Violence

Podrick Payne x reader 

+:✿ Chapter 1 ✿:+ : Lucky Boy

chapter 2

Summary: You’re a Mormont being held hostage by House Lannister.  You are acting now as the Handmaiden for Margery Tyrell, whom you’ve grown quite close with. But it seems that a squire has caught your attention as you have caught his. 

CW: afab reader, slow burn, mention violence, blood, mention of harassment, mention of NSFW themes.

A/N: I am not giving up on the leashed dog series yall I promise I have just been PINING for pod the rod recently… and tbh we need a little sweetness with everything happening in the other series okay. He is a rom com boy trapped in a medieval fantasy war and I feel so bad for him.

Word Count: 3348 

It had been many days now being held by the Lannisters. You’d no real duties on Bear Island as it was such a small house. Your Aunt was a fierce leader and needed no guidance. You had chosen to venture off of Bear Island to celebrate your coming of age. You decided to travel all over the realm, you wished to see the world and experience all of it. However at a tavern near Kings Landing a man decided to grab at you. You hated it when men did that, so you took your cup of ale and smashed the whole cup into his nose. 

It broke of course, and of course, like a child he wept. If a man had done such to another man no one would have batted an eye. But because it was a gold cloak you “assaulted”, and because you were you, a Mormont. An enemy house, you were arrested and brought to the Lannisters. They thought of killing you but instead decided to make use of you.  

And they did make good use of you. With you there, Bear Island would be swayed away from ever siding with Stannis against them with you in your custody. Not only that but you were trained in healing, and not nearly as hardened looking as the other women of Bear Island. You were made Handmaiden for Margery Tyrell while she was inhabiting the city. 

Margery had done her part in helping you fit in. She showed you how to style your hair, how to pick a dress that suited your figure, how to manipulate the men around you, keeping you out of any more unnecessary trouble. When she dressed you up, no one would be able to tell you could swing a sword just as well as any Kingsgaurd or sellsword could. 

You see Margery had to pretend in front of everyone else, but with you, you weren’t loyal to the Lannisters and she knew this. Besides you two had bonded after many nights drinking wine late at night in her bedchambers. Like two little girls who had stolen their fathers ale. You’d spend the nights talking of your lives and your wishes. 

Margery was the same again and again, to be the queen. And yours was always the same, to live life and experience all you could.

You and she also talked of men. You’d had experience, and so had she. Not many women would admit it but you two were close enough that you felt you could. 

You and she attended many festive celebrations with one another, and to anyone else it would seem you were enjoying your time there. That was good, you did not want to attract any attention. 

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Your station as a handmaiden made it easy to overhear and eavesdrop on many high born conversations. One that caught your attention the most was that Janos Slynt, the commander of the gold cloaks, the man who arrested you, was going to be dismissed from his duty.

You weren’t above pettiness. You wanted to hear him be dismissed with your own ears. You found a small room within the castle. Tyrion was hosting a small dinner with Slynt. This was going to be the dinner where he was going to be dismissed. You pressed your back against the wall beside the door listening in. The majority of the dinner was mindless small talk, until

“Damn it boy!” Slynt said loudly. 

The shout was so loud you couldn’t help but turn and peer into the room, catching a glimpse of the man who arrested you, Lord Tyrion Lannister, and a squire. You saw that the squire had spilt wine all over the hand of Slynt. It made you smile, holding in amusement. 

“My apologies my Lord.” The shorter brown haired squire said. 

“You can pour your own wine.” Tyrion said in defense of the squire.

You looked back to Slynt and saw that you had been seen, Slynt raised a brow at you. 

“You girl! You the Mormont?" Slynt said loudly, 

‘Fuck’ you thought to yourself. Knowing you’d been caught. 

“Indeed, My Lord.” You said, putting on a meek and sweet demeanor.

“Come in here,” Slynt commanded. 

“What are you doing here, My Lady?” Tyrion questioned you gently.

“Looking for my Lady Tyrell, I seem to have lost my way, My Lord.” You said bowing your head. A convincing enough lie.

“I was responsible for your arrest, do you remember that, girl.” His face was confident and irritating.

“I do, Ser.” You said still attempting to keep a sweet and calm demeanor.  

“I thought she was to be punished?” Slynt said to Tyrion.

“She is HandMaiden to Lady Margery Tyrell, and as I am told, a very skilled healer. She has proven to be quite useful.” Lord Tyrion said with a smile looking at you, you smiled back. 

“A girl assaults a member of the gold cloaks and is given a position in your Kingdom?” 

“A decision made by the King. If you wish to disagree with his decision-” 

“Course not.” Slynt interrupted,  “Wine,” he commanded, holding up his empty cup. 

The same squire began to walk towards the man with the pitcher of wine. 

“Not you, boy, the bear girl.” Slynt said looking at you, the irritation boiled inside of you. But you did your best to keep your cool.

You took the pitcher from the squires hands, you looked at him for a moment, his worried expression changed into a smile. It was a smile of total innocence you thought to yourself. 

You took the pitcher and walked your way towards the table, as you began to pour wine into his cup he started to speak again. 

“Tell me girl, are you enjoying the city?” His tone was one of an interrogator.

“Yes, My Lord.” You said pouring, with a cherubic smile. 

“You don’t look like the women of Bear Island.” He said biting his lip, it made you feel ill.

“Indeed, My Lord.” Agree blindly, that’s what Margery taught you anyway

“Women there are beasts,” He said to Tyrion.

“Like you I assume?” Tyrion teased him, it made you smile.

“No, no, like her aunt Maege.” He said and your smile dwindled, but you kept it on. 

You didn’t respond this time, biting your tongue, you felt the anger in you rising but said nothing. You wanted to pour the wine on his balding head, but still, did nothing.

“Tell me is it true, is it true she fucked a bear?” 

“Lord Slyn-” Tyrion began

“What do you wish for me to say, my Lord?” You felt your temper slipping from between your fingertips. Your smile now gone. 

“Do you think I wish for you to lie girl?” Slynt’s tone was harsh,

You stared at him for a moment, your smile snapping back into place. 

“Whatever you’d command, my Lord.”

“Enough.” Tyrion tried to stop it.

“You’d do anything I commanded?” 

“I said enough. Lady Mormont, you may see to your lady.” Tyrion commanded, saving you from whatever was to come next.

You smiled and curtseyed as you walked back to place the pitcher back on the table. With your back turned to the men your face dropped and you made eye contact with the same squire. He looked at you with pity in his eyes. You couldn’t stand it. You spit into the pitcher and smiled at the squire, he tried hard to hold back his amusement, only giving it away with a smirk as he looked down at his feet. 

As you walked out of the room you made sure not to make the same mistake as before. You hid better, committed to hearing this man be removed from his position. And you did, and it was just as satisfying as you thought it would be. Especially when he was escorted by his own gold cloaks out of the tower, kicking and whining like a child.

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During the Battle of Blackwater you attended to many mens wounds. 

It had taken most of the night, you were not concerned with the war that waged outside the castle walls. If they won, nothing changed for you. If they lost, you’d either be set free, or once again, nothing would change. Most likely it would be the latter.

You among a few other ladies attended to wounds and dying men while the Maester did as much as he could for those who were far gone. 

Things had slowed down, beds were nearly full, but then knights rushed in holding Lord Tyrion. His face had been cut deeply. The cut had crossed his entire face. You could tell at first glance that it would scar, but he would live. It would have been extremely painful but thankfully he was unconscious. 

They were all shouting at the Maester. To halt what he was doing and to attend to their lord. As he did a tall man, Bronn, the man who replaced Slynt. Dragged a shorter man with short dark hair towards the Maester.

“Lads hand is cut deep, needs help.” Bronn said

“I can’t attend to every cut and scrape when there's a dying lord in my presence.” The old Maester said, quite dramatically you thought. Tyrion was badly wounded but he would live. “Mormont, girl, you attend to the lad!” He shouted to you.

“Is she any good?” Bronn said, the other shorter man looked at you with what looked like embarrassment, “This lad saved that Lord's life.” You huffed at his comment, it annoyed you how he didn’t ask you but the Maester.

“If I’d a cock they’d call me a Maester.” You said walking closer to him til you were inches apart, it made him take a gasp of air puffing up his chest, and his lips formed a line. “Show me,” You said, much softer this time. He relaxed a bit and as you presented your hand, palm facing him. He placed his hand in yours. “Not so bad,” you said as you examined it. 

“Hear that Podrick, not bad-” Bronn said to the shorter man. 

“Not so bad. It is still bad.” You noticed his expression change to a more worried one. You, for some reason, felt the need to let your cold and hardened attitude slip for a moment. “But you won’t lose it. I’ll clean it, stitch it, and bandage it.” You placed your other hand over his, trying to comfort him. “Sit.” 

He nodded and did so, laying his hand on the table. You began to clean it. Your eyes snapped from his wound to his face as he winced. “Is it true?” he looked at you and his eyes made your stomach feel like there were butterflies in it, so you looked back to his wound as you tended to it, “You saved him? Lord Tyrion?” 

“I- I helped him, My Lady.” He said, stammering. Though you weren’t looking at him you could tell his eyes were on your face.

“You’re quite brave, Ser.” You said as you finished cleaning his wound.

“Thank you, My Lady, but I’m not-” 

“He’s no Ser, that lads a squire.” Bronn interrupted, “I tell you what though Lass, you want a knight I’ll be happy to oblige.” He said stepping closer to you, your eyes returned to your work on the squires hand.

“Men like you amuse me, Ser. They believe they are still young, handsome, and desirable. No matter what they look like.” You said attempting to fain genuine amusement as if he’d told a joke.

As Bronn attempted to begin a retort, you heard a small laugh leave the unconscious Lord’s lips, still not fully conscious.

“See? I am a good healer.” You said as everyone looked at Tyrion's subtle laugh as you continued to work. 

The squire looked back at you with a slight grin, as if he were trying to hide his amusement.

“Much braver for a squire to do such a thing.” You said softly just so he’d hear it. 

He smiled at you in response, He was pretty you thought. Men on Bear Island were fearsome, rigid, and gruff. This one wasn’t, the opposite in fact. He’d had a natural goodness about him, a sweetness. 

That's when you realized he was the same squire from the dinner between Ser Slynt and Lord Tyrion. 

“I know you.” You said with narrow eyes and furrowed brows, finally realizing. 

“Yes, my Lady.” His smile and innocent response made you smile involuntarily, you tried to hide it to no avail. You were flattered that he’d even remembered you. The feeling of flattery didn’t come naturally to you at all either.  

“This part is going to hurt.” You said pulling the curved needle through his flesh, he winced and hissed. Your eyes went towards him, normally you never cared. A man should learn to handle pain, you always thought. But you hated to see him in any discomfort. “Bring him wine.” You called out to Bronn. Your words towards Bronn were no near as gentle and sweet sounding as they were towards Podrick. 

He began to drink it, only sipping a little at first, but you pushed the cup up making him down more. “You’ll want to be numb to this.” You explained. 

As he continued to drink you continued with your work. By the end of it you bandaged his hand, “Finished,” You said standing up, and he followed your actions. 

“I can’t thank you enough, my lady.” He said clearly a little drunk from the wine. 

“Alright,” Bronn said grabbing Podrick by the back of his neck and dragged him out of the chamber. You could hear Bronn outside say “You can fuck the she-bear later.” followed by some distant protesting by Podrick.

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A day had passed since the battle. You were in your chambers with Margery. You’d told her about all the handsome knights you’d seen that night. 

She’d teased you about how lucky you were to have gotten your hands on so many. You had begun to describe the squire you’d met. How strange it was to have met a man so pleasant in such an awful place. 

As the two of you laughed there was a knock at your door. Margery took it upon herself to answer it. 

“Lady Tyrell, apologies for the interruption. I came to thank Lady Mormont.” You heard his voice and knew who it was immediately. 

“Ah! I take it you were a knight she tended to during the battle?” Margery asked him, you wanted to laugh, but held it in.

“A squire, my Lady.” He said, his tone was somewhat sullen. As if he were embarrassed to say it.

“A squire…” Margery said with her signature smile as she turned to look at you, raising her eyebrows, then turning back to him “Well I shall leave you to express your gratitude.” She said as she left.

You stood from your chair and stepped forward.

“Lady Mormont?” He said walking towards you, as he did he pulled out a small but beautiful delicate yellow flower. It had only recently bloomed. 

“A flower?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. On Bear Island people hardly said the word thank you much less showed appreciation through gifts, especially not such sweet ones as this.

“I don’t have much, my lady. But I- I wanted to show my gratitude.” He said with his token innocent wide eyed look. You took the flower and smiled slightly, which made him smile back.

“It was my duty, you don’t need to give me flowers for it.” He looked down, as if he was disappointed in himself. You smelt the flower, to show your hidden appreciation of the gesture. “Show me your hand.” You held your hands out, he hesitated not expecting you to command such a thing, but he did it as you asked. “Hurting at all?” You asked softly examining the cut.

“No, my lady.” His voice was gentle as always.

“It’s healing well.” You said running your finger tip along the length of the stitches, the sensation made him take his hand away, rubbing it against the side of his pants. 

He grunted a little and cleared his throat, “All your doing, my Lady.” 

You looked at him with a smirk, “How long have you been squiring for Lord Tyrion?” 

“For a short time,” 

“Well, you’ll need to learn to pour wine. You spill wine on every Lord in Westeros, sooner or later you’ll spill it on the wrong one.” You said walking towards a table, you grabbed a glass and a pitcher of wine.

“Pour me wine.” You said handing him a pitcher of wine.

You stepped closer towards him, making his swallow hard. But he took the pitcher nonetheless.

“hold the pitcher like this-“ You said moving his hands position with your own, “from the handle, and the bottom” You looked up into his eyes, noticing he was looking right at you “Keep your eyes on the glass.” You said, snapping him out of whatever trance he was in and going back to the task at hand. 

“Like this?” He asked, his voice somewhat more confident.

“Mhmm.” The hum of your voice too close to him made him close his eyes for just a moment. He finished filling your cup, without spilling a drop, “Very good.” As you said it he and you looked at one another, his eyes were wide once again.

“What were you doing there, my lady?” He asked, with a genuine curiosity. “You said you were looking for your Lady, and forgive me for suspecting otherwise-” 

“Eavesdropping.” You interrupted “I had heard they were sending Slynt away, and I wanted to hear it myself.” 

“How did you hear of that?” 

“Again, eavesdropping.” You smirked

“A-and what are you doing here, in Westeros? You were arrested?” 

“It seems you were also eavesdropping.” You teased him.

“Uh well we were in the same room-” You ignored him,

“I left Bear Island to travel, during my travels a Gold cloak tried to force himself on me, so I defended myself.” You said in a matter of fact, you’d no regrets, and no pain towards the matter. However his big brown eyes looked saddened for you, pity, you couldn’t stand pity, “It’s alright, really.” You said trying to reassure him.

“Do you miss your home?” He asked, sweetly.

“I do,” You responded softly, strange how this man was able to gentle your harsh demeanor.

“What was it like?” When he asked it you were thrown off, no one had asked you anything about your home in a genuine way. No one had any interest in it beyond the same constant boring insults.

“Cold. Not just the temperature, the people. But it was beautiful there. Green, rivers, waterfalls.” You smiled softly thinking of it, and found yourself wondering about him, “What of you? You miss your home?” 

“I didn’t have much of one, my Lady.” He lowered his head,

“How’d you get here?” Your eyes narrowed wanting to know more of him. Genuinely. 

“I was the squire for a Ser Lorimer of the Westerlands army. One night he was drunk, and he stole a ham, he shared it with me. We were caught, and he was sentenced to hang for his crime but I was spared for my name.” 

“Lucky boy.” You said with a smirk. One that made his stomach flip. 

“You are different, with the men at the tables. You’re sweet and… simple- but you're not that.” He said, stammering, trying his best not to offend you. 

Your smirk faded, “Men want sweet and simple. Men don’t beat things that are sweet and simple.” 

“You’ve been beaten?” He asked as if it were a horrific discovery. 

“Most girls have.” You said calmly in contrast 

“I-I am sorry, My Lady.” 

“That’s alright. "

“No, it’s not.” 

“No, it’s not.” You smiled softly at him. “You’re a good man, for a southern man. Or just for a man.” 

“Thank you, my lady.” He said with a slight grin. 

“You don’t have to call me that. (Y/N), will do.” 

“(Y/N)” he smiled to himself “(Y/N) Mormont… it is a pretty name.” His grin grew

“You never told me yours.” 

“Ser Bronn told you-“

“But you never told me.” You interrupted. 

“Podrick Payne, my- (Y/N)” He stumbled remembering to call you by your name. 

“Well, goodnight then, my Podrick.” You said teasingly with a smirk. 

Hearing you say those words, “my” followed by his name made a heat rush his face, a visible one. He licked his lips and bowed his head as he responded “Goodnight, (Y/N)” He said as he left you. 

You smelt the flower once more before Margery barged in, 

“A squire?” 

NOTE:  There is a serious drought of Podrick Payne fan fiction series on this app so I had to.  And yes… as always my babygirls, we will be fucking. JUST HOLD ON…  I don’t know dick about Slynt so his dialogue is probably off so i apologize if you love him or smth lmao.  TAG LIST: This is a new series so if you want to be included comment or message me!

#podrick #podrick payne #podrick x reader #podrick x you #podrick x y/n #podrick payne x reader #podrick payne x you #podrick payne x y/n #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones fic #game of thrones fanfic #game of thrones #got fanfic #got fic #got #podrick headcanons

[forever-once-gone]

Day 2: Seokjin - How he had once claimed you as his <3

Part of the Love, Amour, Aur Pyaar drabble series for February!

Word count: 6.3k (obviously, I am once again failing the task of keeping these short lol)

Content and Warnings: yandere au, supernatural au, love, murder, child neglect, fighting parents, child abandonment, reader has a disdain for her fellow humans, reader's father is a deadbeat, reader's mother disappears, Jin is a man (?) obsessed, possessiveness, illusions to future inter-clan wars, vows of commitment, death, starvation, kissing.

Author's Note: I have no self control. This is again much longer than it should be. At this point it would be considered a whole fic, not a drabble. Also, this is dedicated to @rosquilleta, @/teacakess on Ao3, and the anon who sent me a kind ask ONLY 😤. Thank you dears for commenting 🥰🥰🥰 You guys gave me motivation to write!

You pulled your clothes off, letting them pool at your feet. The day had been rough, foraging through the woods all day took quite a load out of you. You had to go into the forest that surrounded your small town to gather some herbs and other plants and fungi to sell in your little shop. It was hard to maintain the quickly depleting stocks in your shop since you were the only person left who dared to venture into the accursed forest.

You once had a mother who cared for you dearly. She had been warm and loving, and had done everything she could do to raise you after your father had refused to stand up and divulge the fact that he—despite being the village leader’s son—was the secret lover of your mother when she had gotten pregnant. He would often sneak into your house by the outskirts of town when you were a child to try and convince your mother that he had had no choice.

“I’m sorry, dear, you know my father would never accept our relationship. A child out of wedlock? With an orphaned woman, especially from your lineage? It would never work. We’d no doubt be thrown out into the accursed forest, and where would that leave us? Leave Y/n?”

Your mother would never meet his eyes, she never had since the day he’d refused to claim you and your mother at the town meeting. Instead, she’d just make it clear that he had no place in her or your life any more. “I don’t know why you’re here, your highness.”

“Don’t call me that,” he’d beg. “I’m not a prince, I’m not anything like that. We are one, my love. Stop mocking me with those words. We’re equal here.”

“You may not be a prince, nor have any royal blood, but your words make it clear that you think you’re high above me. My lineage? What do you mean by that? You know as well as anyone that there is nothing about me that is cursed. Just because my family was the only one brave enough to enter into the forest, doesn’t mean that we’re cursed! You surely didn’t think I was cursed before I became with child!”

“Do not twist my words, my love. You know I do not think of you like that, but you must admit it is strange how every member of your family had disappeared in those woods for centuries. You cannot ignore how implicating that is, my dear.” He had raised his hands in an almost pleading manner, trying to play to your mother’s emotions.

But your mother had little to no feelings left for the one who had been her biggest betrayer.  “My family may have all disappeared into the woods, but that is only because we’re the only ones who actually dare to enter it! And you cannot ignore the fact that anyone else who was not in my family line who had entered the forest, did not ever return, even though it was all of their first time entering the woods. The fact that my family has, for generations, been able to enter and leave the forest for years, before we finally disappear. Compared to everyone who disappears the first time they enter,I think we may be the blessed ones, not cursed. Besides, nobody seems to think we’re cursed when they want the herbs, vegetables, and fruits we bring back from the forest.” Your mother saw you peeking out from the bedroom.

“Y/n, go back inside, dear. You do not have to hear this.” She began to walk towards the door, shooing you further into the room. “Go to sleep.” She softly clicked the door closed after giving you a reassuring smile.

You walked back into bed, pulling the various knit blankets over you as you heard your mother telling your father that he had overstayed his welcome once again.

Spending nights hearing your parents arguing in the next room over, was not new to you. As far back as you can remember, your father would covertly enter your house to try and get your mother to forgive him, to let him be a father to you. He would bring you clothes, sometimes toys, other times blankets to try and win you over. You would politely take the objects before your mother would usher you back into your room. 

But you knew better than to think that he actually meant to make it up to your mother. He’d always ask for forgiveness, but never ask to accept her and reveal to the village that you were his child. Your mother had questioned him the night of your ninth birthday—the last birthday you had with her—of what his true intentions were of coming here, night after night. He’d been a bumbling mess, too embarrassed to say in front of your mother that he really had no intentions of revealing anything. He really just wanted to relieve himself of his guilt, or at least, that’s what it had seemed like to you.

If he really cared, he would stand by your mother and yourself.

But then again, he never married following his parting from your mother.

You would wait to hear the front door shut behind your father. You would hear silence as your mother sat at the dining table for, usually, ten to twenty minutes after he’d left before she’d slink back into the room with you. She’d get into bed, and pull you against her chest. Her hand would smooth over your head, and sometimes she’d whisper apologises to you, thinking you were asleep.

She had been the only one who took care of you in your life, the only true one to care for you.

When your mother had disappeared in the forest only a few weeks before your tenth birthday, you had been beyond distraught. 

You had cried in the town square all morning and afternoon, when you had woken up and realized that your mother had not returned in the night. You had begged for someone to help you, to look in the forest for you, to find her. Everyone had walked right past all of you, ignoring your little crying form, clothes soiled from the dirt that you had collapsed in when the village leader had turned you away. 

Your father had seemed like he wanted to say something, hesitating when he had found you in the square on his way back to his home. But, in the end, he had walked away from you, leaving you to cry until you lost consciousness.

When you had finally come to, it was the middle of the night. No one was around. The air was cold. And your fingertips had lost all feeling, stiff as you tried to wiggle them around. You had sat up, hoping that you’d see your mother emerging from the forest at the edge of your vision, but you saw no such thing. No such blessing.

You had to pick yourself up from that cold dirt floor, and trudge your way back to your house by the edge of the glade. You had, again, hoped that you’d open the door to find your mother, tending to the fire in the fireplace. Perhaps, stirring a pot that she had hung in it, as she smiled at you, letting you know dinner was almost ready.

But life was not that kind to you.

The few weeks had been tough. You had to learn how to care for yourself all by yourself. You used up all the stored food that your mother would have sold if she had not disappeared. People had not come to your house expecting to buy anything, like they used to when your mother was still around. You had used those supplies and what you had to feed yourself, but when they had come to an end (other than a few jars of preserves, your mother had jarred only a few days before she disappeared that you did not have the heart to open yet), you realized you had to do something to find food.

You had properly dressed up for the first time since your mother’s disappearance. You had ventured out to the river that passed through the glade and bathed. You had scrubbed every last ounce of built up oil from your hair. You had put on your best clothes. You had picked up your basket from the shelf where you used to keep all the items your mother used to sell. And threw on the cloak your mother had sewed for you.

And you did what your family had always done when there was nothing left for them in the village.

You entered the woods.

Your mother had brought you into the woods intermittently from when you were young. You supposed she once had to take you every time when she ventured into the woods when you were a newborn, as there was no one else to take care of you. But by the time you had become old enough not to die of starvation or neglect if left alone for a few hours (about 2 and a half years old), she had begun to cut your trips to the woods. She would leave you alone at home with a snack and some water, promising to return soon.

Following that, she had rarely brought you into the forest. Only a few times in the year. And that was only because she had told you: “One day, I’m sure the forest will take me just like it did my father. Before then, I need you to learn how to navigate the forest, because it will become your only source of trading power with the other villagers, you understand me? It will be tough to be on your own—it was for me too—but I want you to be better prepared for the woods than I was when my father disappeared. I just don’t want you to starve like I did when it happened to me.” Her eyes had darkened. “Not one of those villagers will come to help you, Y/n. Not one.”

You repeated those words to yourself the first time you had entered the forest alone, following the routes that your mom would go through. You foraged for the berries she had shown you, the root vegetables that she had taught you to identify from the stalks that were visible above the dirt, and you checked the traps that your mother had left for small game.

Fortunately, each of the traps had worked and caught a small prey. But unfortunately, all of the animals had started to rot from not being collected all these weeks later. Some had even been scavenged, leaving mangled messes of flesh. You just released the traps, and pushed the corpses away with a stick before re-preparing the traps.

You unconsciously looked around, fearing that you may end up stumbling across your mother’s corpse in a similar stage as the animals you had scraped off the traps. For better or for worse, you had not.

Before the sun could get even close to setting, you returned home. And when you entered the house, a sense of heaviness pushed down on you. A heaviness that came with the realization that this was your new life. You were alone, left to fend for yourself in the forest if you hoped to survive. Left alone to mourn your mother. Mourn her, until you also, just like all your ancestors before you, also disappeared out in the forest.

At least, then, the ghosts of your ancestors could sigh in relief that there would be no more orphaned descendents/children fighting to survive in the glade anymore after you.

You took off the cloak you were wearing and stepped out of your muddied shoes. Only when you sat down at the dining table did you realize something had changed from the way it had been before you had left that morning.

There was a package wrapped up in a sheet on your table. Your breath stopped for a second; could this be from your mother? Was she still alive?

You carefully pulled off the sheet from the contents within, only to find some clothes, a bag of flour, and some goat’s milk along with a note.

I’m so sorry, dear Y/n.

I cannot be the father you deserve, but I will try to provide for you when I can.

Happy birthday, sweet child.

Regrettably,

Your inadequate father.

P.S. I know you will not believe me, but I also miss your mother as much as you do.

Your disdain had grown for him tenfold that night.

Nobody bought from you the first few days after you ventured into the forest. You liked to think it was due to them feeling guilt for how they practically left you to die when your mother disappeared. But you knew the truth, it was much more likely they were worried that you were still unstable and could lash out on them. But after a week of you putting up the open sign by your front door, two mothers had come to you unabashedly, asking for the one of the types of root vegetables your mother used to get from the forest in exchange for a couple eggs.

When the two women had been able to leave your house unharmed, the others slowly made their way back to making their visits to your little house, offering trades and money for the goodies that only grew in the accursed forest. And with that, you had set a routine. A routine involving spending half your time in the woods and half your time in the glade.

And with this routine, you were able to brave your way through the days, then the weeks, the months, and even the years.

And before you knew it, you were twenty-five. Had spent much more time on your own than the time you had spent with your mother. Over fifteen years since she had disappeared without a trace. 

It had also been fifteen years since you had truly felt cared for.

Sure, your father still left you gifts here and there. But that didn’t make any warmth spread through your body. It didn’t help the fact that you hadn’t had anyone to laugh with in all these years. No one to talk to about anything beyond types of vegetables and game. The only time when you had a conversation longer than a couple of words was when one of the men from the village would try and haggle with you for a rabbit that you had brought back in from the forest that morning.

Your father was not much comfort either.

He still wrote you short messages when he would leave packages on your doorstep, but they were as worthless as all those visits he made to see your mother when she was still around. His reassurances were hollow, and you didn’t care to give him the time of day.

You’d become just like your mother, in that even when you saw him around, you’d always turn the other way. In a way, he brought you a bit closer to your mother, since your hatred for him made you understand her cold-shoulder towards him.

You never felt more alone than when you were in the glade with the other villagers, father be damned.

That is why, other than to sleep and to sell your goods, you tended to stay in the accursed forest as much as you could. Even though it made the villagers whisper how you must be more dangerous than your mother since she didn't spend nearly as much time in the forest as you did. To that, all you could think was that you didn’t have a child waiting at home for you to raise, unlike your mother. You were certain she would have done the same as you if she didn’t have to care for you back then.

Despite how there was not one other person in the first besides you, just being away from the village made you feel more at peace. You felt more connected with your mother, when you walked her routes, set her traps, and used all the tips and tricks she had taught you when you were young.

Your favorite spot, however, was the small lake in the forest. It was in the middle of a river—its offshoot didn’t cross into the glade, and the running water was always fresh. It was cold in the summer, and warm in the winter; how it exactly managed that, you had no idea. But you had fond memories of it. It was the place where your mother had taught you how to swim. This was the only place where you would see her just sit down and relax, unworried and free.

It had been her spot.

And now, it was yours.

You sat down in the cool water, feeling it wash off the sweat you had accumulated on the voyage through the woods. You were still near the shallow enough edge where you could sit on the floor and the water would only reach up to your armpits. It was nice to let go for a bit.

You sat in the water for a good ten minutes before you wadded deeper into the lake, figuring it was time for you to forage for the underwater plants that people liked to buy off of you to put into soups. You would swim down into the lake, and swim through the thick plant filled bottom of the lake that curled up into the water like bushes. You would push around the rock covered floor to loosen the roots of the plants to get them to release. The leaves would float up to the surface, where you’d collect them later on when you felt you had collected enough.

This time, as you pushed around the large rocks among the dense plants, you felt something warm. You pulled your arm back, expecting to see a fish shoot out of the thicket from your disturbance, but instead, nothing. You were taken aback. You reached out your hand again to see if you would find some freshly dead animal laying in the plants, but when you pushed the plants aside to see, you instead found a large, warm stone.

But it was strange, it was in the shape of a human head.

You felt your eyes bulge out of your head, as you broke through the carpet of plants you had released into the water, immediately kicking to the surface of the lake. You tried to gulp down as much air as you could before you dove straight back into the lake, kicking back to the stone head. You immediately started to check if it looked like your mother, but it did not. It instead looked like a man. 

Was this some sort of preserved human? 

No, it couldn’t be. It was very much stone.

You circled around the head, pulling away more plants to uncover more stones if you could. You didn’t find any more human head-shaped stones, but you did realize that the stone head was much more than just a head. It was attached to a rock body. It was an entire statue that had been shoved into the lake.

You continued to try and uncover more of the statue between taking breaks where you swam up to the surface for more oxygen. And after about ten minutes you had uncovered the whole statue from under the rocks and plants.

You were surprised that you had never come across this before. This large stone statue that just laid at the bottom of the lake. You just stared at it, honestly, unsure what to do now.

That is until the statue began to rise. You swam back from the statue as it seemed to float up through the water to the lake’s surface, bobbing around with the water plants. How could this statue be so light that it was able to float?

You swam up after it, coming up beside it. You pushed it, testing how light it was, and just from your one light push, it began to drift to the dirt beside the lake where your clothes were. The statue continued to bob around in the shallow water until you dragged it across the pebbles to the dry land.

The statue was of a man with one hand coming up to press the backs of his knuckles underneath his chin. The other curled around his stomach. His lips were full and slightly open. His hair was loose against his forehead. His eyes scrunched together with an expression of pleasure. The statue was also very naked, which made the pose very… suggestive.

Uh…

You really did not know what to make of the statue.

Maybe this is just something that happens in the cursed forest? You find random statues? Statues that seemed like they were in the throes of passion?

But you doubted it. In all your years of coming into the forest, there really was not anything glaringly wrong about it.

It was just a regular forest. 

This was the first weird statue you came across.

Other than the fact that when people would venture into it, they’d never return, there was nothing really demonic about the woods.

Hmm.

You stood beside the statue, before you decided, you didn’t really care about it.

Like, what were you really supposed to do? Tell the other villagers? They wouldn’t care. They probably wouldn't even believe you. Or even if they did, they wouldn’t really have any plans of what to do with it either.

So, it was beyond your abilities to care about.

You left it lying by the shore and jumped back into the lake, going out to gather the plants that were floating around, waiting to be collected. You made quick work of it, gathering them all and bringing them to shore. You wrapped them in a cloth to absorb as much water as possible on them before slipping them into the basket with your other goodies.

You then turned to pull on your clothes, humming a little tune to yourself. And when you were all ready, you pulled on your cloak, picked up your basket, and began your trek back home, you were just about to reach the thickening of the trees—

That is until: “Hey! That’s not how this is supposed to go!”

You stopped in your tracks, your grip tightening on your basket.

Did that come from the… lake?

You slowly turned to the lake, and in between the trees you could make out… something.

Ah, this is the day you die isn’t it.

You thought to turn back around and try to make a break for it, but instead, you walked back to the lake, dropping your basket beside one of the trees.

If you were going to die, you were willing to accept it if it meant you’d be able to see your mother again.

When you made it back to the lake, you expected to see a demon or something of the like, but instead it was just the statue again.

But this time, it was standing up. Its arms fists at its hips with its lips frozen in a pout, as though it was mad at you. Its eyes were open this time as it glared at you.

Okay, magic statue it is then.

Was this statue the thing that killed all your family members before?

Well, you hoped it made it quick.

You walked up to it. Stopping just a step away from it. “Um, did you just speak to me? Like you, the statue?”

With a blink, the statue was in another pose, his palm pressed against its forehead, the other hand still against its waist. And without the statue’s mouth moving at all from its slight agape position, it said, “Yes, I did. Now, kiss.”

With another blink of your eye, the statue had once again changed its pose. Its arms were brought up behind his head, posing like a self-absorbed man trying to show off his arm muscles, as its hands pressed to the back of its head, out of sight. His eyes were closed once again.

You weren’t sure what to do. Were you meant to kiss this statue? You really did not want to. “I’m not going to kiss you. Forgive me.”

With another blink, the statue's eyes shot open. “WHAT?!” With another blink, the statue was right in front of you, nose to nose with you, as it bent slightly to glare directly into your eyes. Its arms were crossed over its chest, as it lamented once again, without moving its lips, “This isn’t how this is supposed to go! You’re supposed to kiss me!”

All you felt was annoyance. Was the statue going to kill you or not? You were getting a bit impatient having to deal with its dramatics. “Is that so? And why am I meant to kiss you?”

In less than a second its posture had changed again. Its arms were still crossed against his chest, but this time he wasn’t leaning into your face. Instead, he was standing upright with his head looking off to the right with a deep pout. “The others did!” He whined. “They said I had to win you over, so that’s what I’m trying to do, but you are not cooperating!”

“Who are they?” you asked, adopting his pose with your arms crossed against your chest.

“You know! My people! The ones who govern this forest and our respective lands. I come from the Kim clan, one of the many clans in the nation. I was meant to tell you this after you kissed me.” He remained pouting off to the side.

“So you come from a group of statues?”

He left out an affronted gasp. “Good Earth, no! This is obviously a facade that was meant to woo you! We’re obviously not a people of statues. How absurd of you to even imply that.”

“Then what are you then? And why do you need to “woo” me?”

He changed his position again, now sitting on the ground with his legs crossed, his head propped up on his hand. He looked frustrated. “I would have explained all that to you if you had kissed me like you were meant to. If you want to know, you shall present me with a kiss.”

You sat down in front of him. “That’s unfortunate as I am not going to kiss you.”

His mouth fell open in shock. “I told you, I’ll tell you once you kiss me!”

“Yes, I heard. And I am not going to kiss you,” you insisted, also resting your head on the palm of your hand.

“But that’s what we’re meant to do! The elders told me that I get to be the one from our clan to finally have our turn to get a L/n human as a spouse! They told me I’m meant to come up with a ceremony to sweep you off your feet, and then you’ll be mine! I was only supposed to explain everything else to you after you gave me your hand.”

The statue shot in front of you, now sitting up on his knees, with his hands on either side of your body, his face only a few centimeters from your face again. This time he had his lips all puckered up, with his eyes all scrunched up as if he was prepared for a kiss.

“Now give me a kiss,” he demanded. “And then I’ll tell you everything you want to know. Plus, I can take you back to my lands with me. Now. Kiss!”

“That all sounds well and good.” You leaned back from the insolent statue. “But I’m still not going to kiss you, especially not if it's part of some ceremony.”

The statue was on the ground in a blink of the eye. His knees bent to the sky, as he covered his eyes with his hands. His mouth downturned in a frown. “Why did I have to get the L/n that was the most stubborn of them all?” He seemed to ask no one in particular.

You let him wallow in his self-pity, instead picking at the grass surrounding the both of you. After a few minutes of silence, you asked him, “Has your tantrum completed yet?”

Like a child he said, “no.”

“Well then,” you stood up, brushing the dirt off of your rear, and pulled your hood over your head. “I’ll be off.” You turned and were back on your route, picking your basket up as you passed it.

“Wait!” Finally a man appeared before you, no longer a statue, but a human looking man. His chest was rising and dropping quickly as he held his arms up in front of you, keeping you in place. It was good to see him actually moving, and not just teleporting whenever your eyes closed, it was starting to strain your eyes. “Look, I’m in my true form now, will you just let me explain?”

“Alright, but I will not be kissing you.”

“Yeah, I got that part,” he mumbled, pushing his purplish-pink, wet hair back from his forehead. “Can we sit? And I’ll explain.”

“Could you put on some clothes first?”

He sighed, but in an instant he was dressed in an immaculate, translucent set of fabrics that seemed to shimmer in the early evening light. The clothing was unlike anything you’d seen before. They were in hues of blue and green that flowed loosely over his body as though they were waterfalls that sprouted and fell from his body.

You wondered if they were tangible or something he had just magicked up. You wondered if you were to grab at them, would you be able to feel them or would your fist come back empty.

He walked past you, back towards the lake with his clothes dragging behind him. He looked luxurious.

He went to a different edge of the lake, with giant boulders. He sat down on them, letting his legs soak in the water, his form slumped.

You followed after him, and also sat beside him, but instead of dipping into the water, you sat beside him cross-legged.

He twirled his feet around in the current. “I thought you’d like my entrance. I thought you’d want something romantic for the first meeting you had with me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I was meant to win you over. You were mine to have, but it’s not that simple. We are not allowed to just steal you away, We need you to come willingly. We need you to fall for us.”

“We as in your people?”

“Yes, my people. We are known by many names to you humans: fairies, fae, elves, pixies, selkies, nagas, tricksters, incubi, demons, witches, immortals. We are shapeshifters, we have magick, we can come to humans however we please. It led to many folklore about us. Really, all those myths stem from our mating ceremonies.”

You waited for him to continue.

“We are only allowed to pick mates from one lineage. In every nation, there is only one family that we can take spouses from. It’s part of our laws, so we do not reveal ourselves to much more than we need to to humans. It also keeps our spouses from fighting amongst themselves, since most of them are on good terms with one another. It prevents clan wars.” He turned to look at you, his hair slightly drier than before.

You took a moment to take in his beauty. He was a handsome man, that you could not deny. You had never met a person with colourful hair like his, other than the one person in the glade with red hair. But this was so different from that. It looked like he’d dyed them with flowers like people did wool, something unnatural for people to have. You couldn’t help but wonder if that was his natural hair colour or if this was one of the perks of being a shapeshifter.

You hummed at him to keep going with his explanation.

“It was agreed upon centuries ago that it would be the L/n family that we would take partners from. As long as they had had time to have children to keep the family line going, we could take our pick of who we wanted. In return, your family got the ability to walk in our lands unharmed. Something that other humans would be… killed for trying to do.”

He eyed you to see what your reaction would be to him admitting to his people killing humans. He didn’t know how to feel when he saw no sympathy for the humans who had perished.

“It was my clan’s turn next to get a L/n, and of course, there was you. I had just turned twenty, and you had been twenty-one. I was entranced right away by you. I wanted to take you right away, after all, it was my birthright. But, the elders of the clans told me I had to wait. I had to wait for you to have a child, but how could I?!” He had turned right towards you, pulling your hands into his lap. “How could I let a human hold you close before I got the chance to? How could I let you raise children with a human, with someone other than me. I couldn’t bear it.”

He had pulled your hands to his chest. “But the clan leaders, Y/n, while they understood me—they had after all had to go through the same thing as I did before they got their L/n—but they told me I must wait. So I did. I waited even though it hurt me. I waited until you had a child so that I could finally take you away, but then it just wasn’t happening! You weren’t meeting people, you weren’t falling in love or having children! It had been five years, and it just wasn’t happening.”

He pulled one of your hands from his chest to come up and cradle his cheek in your hand. “So I spoke with the clan leaders, and they said I still couldn’t take you.” 

His arm came around your torso, pulling you against him. “So I decided, I was going to take you. Who are they to stop me from taking my spouse, my mate? Let them burn, I say. Who cares if the remaining clans will not have their own L/n spouses, I do not care. You are mine, and I refuse to wait any longer.” His other arm had come to the back of your head, bringing you closer to his face. “Kiss me, Y/n, and then I can claim you as mine.”

He tilted his head, flickering his eyes closed as he went to close the gap between the two of you, but you instantly put a finger up to his pursed mouth.

“Do you mean to tell me my mother is alive? She was taken by one of the other clans?” Your eyes were urgently digging into him.

The man pulled away slightly, his eyes opening back up slowly. “Well yes. All of your family members are alive in one way or another in our lands.” He could see the way your eyes hardened, he could imagine that you were worried for your mother’s state. “Once we take them, they become ours, Y/n. We tie them to our eternal life so they could be by our side as long as we shall live. We take good care of our spouses, that I can assure you. I’ve met her once before.” He cupped your face in his hands. “She is well, Y/n.”

You felt tears run down your face and onto his hands. “S-She’s alive?”

He nodded.

You collapsed against him in sobs, calling out for your mother. He rubbed your back, trying to calm you down the best that he could.

Fifteen years it had been since she’d disappeared—no, been taken from you.

Fifteen years.

It didn’t matter that she hadn’t come to see you in all those years, you could forgive her for that, but you wanted to see her now. You needed to see the only person who cared for you. You needed her.

You straightened up, wiping your tears away before grabbing onto the man. “Take me to her. I’ll do whatever you want, just take me to her.” You begged in a choked voice.

“I can only do that if you agree to be mine. Only if you kiss m—”

You pressed your lips against his.

For a second he didn’t move, just allowing you to ravage his lips. But once he realized what had happened, he immediately pulled you closer. He pulled you against him and kissed you back with as much fervor as you did. He felt jolts of electricity pass through his body as the vow between the two of you cemented in place.

You were his now.

And he was yours.

When the burning in your chest got too much, you pulled away from the magickal man. Just enough for you to breathe in some air.

He pressed a kiss against the corner of your mouth as you panted. “I suppose it is time for me to give you my name now that you are mine.”

He pressed a kiss to your jaw before he whispered into your neck, “I shall give you my name, as you gave me yours through the completion of the ceremony of the vow. I give you my name: Kim Seokjin.”

Reader won't even realize the gravity of him giving his name to you until they went back to his land and learned more about his people. He really meant the whole "I am yours, and you are mine" thing 😬

Just so you guys know, I wanted to write a bit more to explain why he decided to come to you as a statue, but then this was just already way too long, so I decided not to. Long story short: He was inspired by the Greek myth of Pygmalion and Galatea, and he thought he may woo you (as that is part of the ceremony, he must win you over), by replicating that myth. He thought you'd fall head over heels for his handsome statue self, and you'd kiss him without him even having to ask! Obviously, he was a bit over confident lol.

Maybe at some point, I'll write that Jin explaining to his partner why he did what he did later on in the month or maybe afterwards. I just wanted to write him being all pouty as he explained his plan, but oh well lol.

Anyway, please reblog and comment, it makes my day and motivates me so much! Have a good night!

#yandere bts #yandere seokjin #yandere jin #yandere bts drabbles #yandere seokjin x reader #yandere jin x reader #jin x reader #seokjin x reader #jin fanfic #seokjin fanfic #yandere Kim seokjin #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere x reader #supernatural au #Ev's writing #series: love amour aur pyaar

[thetraumaking]

The Accursed Crown:

Other Chapters

Chapter 8: An Unsocialized Pup

Once word of the princess's ability to fire bending spread. Her formal training officially began. And what better teacher than you?

Her father and grandfather were pleased with her fast growth. So much so that they gathered all the nobles and had a feast in her name. She was surrounded by praises and gifts.

She looked over at her brother. In a corner still holding tight to their mother. Many have shown grievance to her for having such a disgrace in the position of a role model. 'Don't be silly, there wasn't a moment in my life where I ever looked for his guidance.'

She enjoyed it tremendously when the adults shared a panicked laugh before awkwardly excusing themselves. Just as quickly they left, another group was as quick to take their place. And once more they filled her with more praises and compliments, asking for her schedule to see if they could present their children to her.

Playdates, how childish. She's far too busy for such pesky activities.

Closing her eyes, she folded her arms, blocking out the chattering adults. She was getting bored, the whole event was fun but now it's getting repetitive.

"If you have nothing else to say, you are dismissed." She loudly announced. It was okay to do so since her father and grandfather had already retired early. Besides, the party was for her, so she has the right to reign over it however she pleases.

Without waiting for the others to reply, she walked past them and naturally, they made way. Her headpiece was not heavy but after hours of wearing it, it became uncomfortable, she needed you to take it off for her and help her into her nightgown. The sun had long since gone, it was time for bed.

Her search came to a halt when she saw you on the balcony... with someone. Someone she doesn't know.

Her steps came to a halt when she saw the stranger grab your shoulder. What astonished her most was that you didn't show any signs of discomfort. She has seen you being touched(mostly by her mother and occasionally by Zuko) but you would more often than not make some sort of negative reaction. Your eyes would narrow or you would clench your fist or just ever so subtly roll your shoulders or straighten your back.

Wanting to take a closer look at the stranger and hear what the two of you were talking about, she snuck behind the curtain and crouched down.

Frowning, she cursed the party, it was too loud. Thanks to the music and the nobles' desperate attempt to acquaint themselves with those of higher ranking, she couldn't hear what you and the stranger were talking about. Though she did get a better look at, his? face.

Very short black hair, thick eyebrows, brown eyes, and cheeks on the hollow side with the number 167 branded on it. The man looked tired but he was smiling... at you.

Azula's jaw clenched.

His outfit was nothing to look at, a typical combat suit. But there was one thing that stood out. A phoenix pendant. Though not as defined as yours, but a phoenix nonetheless.

Which means that he also went to that camp.

You and him must have trained together or were at least in sister companies. She guesses that's how you knew him. But recalling what you have told her about the pendants, only those who are of higher "quality" graduates get to have a more defined pendent.

'The phoenix must reflect its owner,' her father once said.

It was strange for her to see you so at ease around others. The interactions she has seen of you were either being ordered by her family or you ordering the maids and guards.

Her eyes still lingered on you and that offending hand of that still rested on your shoulder. How dare this nameless nobody act so casual around you? Is he trying to get you in trouble for fraternization?

You are leaps and bounds above his league, and you are of a higher rank.

With her hands clenched, she stood up. She's not letting you get in trouble for someone like him. You had taken care of her when her own mother abandoned her, now it's her turn to return the favor.

Purposely clearing her throat loudly, she marched with the confidence of a general. She smirked when the man beside you immediately bowed. At least he knows his place. She was worried that your attention might have gone over his head.

Seeing that he had gotten enough attention from his higher to last him a lifetime, she ignored him. Instead, she looked at you, "We're done here, everyone that matters has already left. I wanna go to my room."

Without wasting another moment, she turned and began walking away from the still-bowing man, knowing full well that you would be on her heels.

While walking past her mother and brother, she heard her say something.

"Goodnight, Zuko. I love you-"

'Love you.'

That word played in her head. Mother loves Zuko.

Her gaze shifted to the side, staring at you. Then at your hand.

Quietly, she reached over and held your hand. She looked at you for any reaction and fortunately, you were fine.

Well, of course, if that man could touch you, why couldn't she? And every eyes and ears have heard and seen how close the two of you are.

With their hands swinging ever so lightly, Azula couldn't help but ask. "6, what's love?"

You let out a hum, thinking over your answer before you say it, "I wouldn't be able to give you an exact definition. Love isn't just one thing, as there are many shades within a color, love takes many forms. Love can be platonic, romantic, sexual, possessive, obsessive, unrequited, forbidden, and so on." She watched you take a deep breath, a thoughtful expression came across your face before you continued.

"Due to my lack of experience, I don't know what it is but I do know what it isn't. Love isn't the attraction or the sense of understanding you feel with broken or troubled people. It's not love if you wish and dream about the past or the regrets you might have of doing things differently. And love isn't changing yourself for the other or dreaming about pleasant scenarios together."

Her brows furrowed. "I'm... confused. But back to the first part, to the types of love. How do you tell them apart?"

"By your intentions."

There was a silence after that. The two of you had stopped walking at some point.

For some reason, Azula felt her throat dry out. Swallowing her nerves, she decided to push through, "do you love me?"

"Do you want me to say it?"

She shook her head, no.

For her, the silent confession was enough.

#fanfic #atla #atla azula #avatar the last airbender #azula x reader #fire lord azula #fire lord ozai #prince zuko #princess ursa

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖Make it Stick: Pt. 2 The Princess

Rating: Explicit

Chapter Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Bucky x ofc x Steve

Word Count: 4331

Tags: dark!fic, mob/mafia au, mob!Bucky, mob!Steve, dubcon/noncon, sexual coercion, half-sibling incest, m/f/m, non-con drug use, mentions of torture (non graphic), double penetration, forced tattooing, forced orgasms, enemies to lovers

Summary: When his babygirl—his sweet pea, little one, puppy ... half-sister—is recaptured after her latest attempt at running away, Bucky makes a power play in front of the entire Bratva to remind her exactly who she belongs to.

Dark and smutty content below the break. Consume responsibly.

Wait! I haven't read part 1 yet!

Brighton Beach has always belonged to the Mob.

Decades ago, it’d been the Odessa Ukrainians who reigned supreme, but Bucky’s father was a weak man, and once he’d died and Bucky had taken over leadership of the Rusă-Română Bratva at nineteen, things had changed.

In the ensuing eighteen years, he’s not only seen to it that his faction rises to the top, he’s also been ruthless enough to ensure that their dominance is never challenged, his position as the Dragon of Hydra firmly cemented.

The Dragon’s Den is one of many businesses under his direct control. It’s a popular club in its own right, located on a busy strip of similar nightlife lining the two hundred block of Neptune Ave., and acting as the unofficial epicenter of Hydra operations.

Extra bouncers have been placed outside tonight to weed out the undesirables, but even with the modified guest list due to the night’s more … illicit activities, it’s still as packed as ever. The downstairs is filled with bodies, booze, and music in no time.

At first glance, it really could be any other night, but look a little further, and the incongruencies are readily apparent. Bucky’s had everything set up in the back, a space no more than ten feet by ten. It’s just a corner, not some stage or grandiose point of focus. It’s not like they have the lights all trained on them or anything dramatic like that. Viewing isn’t mandatory by any means. … But what he’s doing is also right there for anyone who wants to look over and see. And he’s under no illusion that every single soul present doesn't know what’s going on—either because they’re watching it, or because they’re making sure to pointedly not watch it. Tongues have been wagging ever since they'd tied up Gleb and dragged Lena out.

He starts with Gleb, putting all his “tools” within view of the poor bastard but not using much more than his fists and his words. He gets a gut punch in, breaks a finger or two. Kid stuff. Bucky’s never been overly enthusiastic about torture, but you don’t hold control over any faction of organized crime if you can’t at least make yourself comfortable with it. Bucky can appreciate it for what it is, and for the nastier stuff he’s got his specialists. Besides, sheer terror and anticipation can be just as crucial to putting on a good show as anything else. Gleb’s been a crying, sniveling mess since three minutes in, so Bucky’s halfway disgusted and halfway satisfied. Mostly, he’s just discouraged that his little one has been letting such a weak man stick his prick in her. Ugh.

He takes his time, stepping away to have a drink or to chat with someone every once in a while. Bucky usually enjoys his Friday nights lounging and socializing amongst his friends and associates, after all, and he’s not about to sacrifice his entire evening to Gleb.

The Den is Bucky’s home away from home. He even has private quarters above—an amenity he’s taken frequent advantage of after many a night spent overindulging. In his youth, when he’d been new to power and Polina had been nothing but an irrelevant child of his father’s second wife, the luxury accommodations had hosted Bucky’s escapades with dozens of the most beautiful women that Brooklyn had to offer.

But that lifestyle changed once Lena came of age eight years later.

Bucky hasn’t touched another woman—hasn’t wanted to touch another woman—in the decade since, his obsessive love for her often resisted but always returned, despite her token protests. It’s an open secret, considered fodder for gossip amongst the wives. Bucky doesn’t see why anybody should be shocked. He’s always wanted things that he knows are off limits. His little one included.

She’s finally back, and Bucky is more thrilled at that than he is about anything else. Of course Gleb’s betrayal can’t go unaddressed, but Bucky’s working him over more out of obligation than any true recreational interest. He’s got him tied to a pipe. The man is panting and breathing open-mouthed at this point, some of his blood on the plastic sheeting from the fist he’d taken to the nose to start off their evening together. He’s sweating through his undershirt like a pig.

Bucky himself has been naked from the waist up ever since Natasha returned to deliver the requested transfer sheet and blithely remarked that he was “seeping” through his shirt. Normally, aftercare would see her slathering him in ointment and taping bandages over the raw skin, but Nat’s pissed at him and she’s not offering, and he’s pissed at her for being pissed at him, so he’s not asking. He just chucks the shirt when it becomes a lost cause to the blood, plasma and sweat. Whatever. It's hot in here, anyways. And he knows Lena is looking her fill whenever he turns back on her to go focus on Gleb, which is even more satisfying.

It’s because of her that he hasn’t done anything too gruesome. As a rule, Bucky usually leaves the worst of his torturing to those who have a better taste for it (the widows). And while he fully intends to make Gleb hurt before he’s given his very own pair of cement shoes, Bucky still doesn’t want to do anything too traumatizing in front of his main audience.

He walks back over to where Steve has her. He’s been holding her still against his chest, Bucky’s own tie looped around her neck and gripped in Steve’s fist behind her back, his other hand wrapped around her waist to keep her still as she plays her part in the demonstration.

Bucky stands mere inches in front of her and sips his drink, letting his eyes rake over her form. “You haven’t been eating enough, sweet pea. We’ll have to fatten you back up.”

Her lip curls. “You’re such a fucking pervert.”

“Takes one to know one.” He leers at her even longer for the snark, letting his free hand trail lightly along the curve of one silk-covered breast. She’s small. Barefoot like this she barely comes up to his chin. But she’s got a fat ass and a bitty waist that’ve always made Bucky want to do bad things to her, even when they were younger. Lena is blonde like her mother had been, with pale skin and other Nordic traits that set her apart from the darker hues and Slavic features that most of Bucky’s family sport.

How could he ever have been expected to keep his hands off of something so tempting?

She’s beautifully disheveled right now: hair fallen loose from however she had it up before Belova tranqued her and Pietro stuffed her on a jet, body barely kept decent in some slip of a dress that Steve’s put her in, tears already making her mascara run in grey-black tracks down her cheeks. Bucky’s always had a kink for watching pretty girls cry. “You should smile,” he tells her, mocking her by sticking his lip out in a pout. “People’ll think you aren’t having fun. This is your party, after all.”

“What are we celebrating?” she says, her effort at sass somewhat hindered by the waver in her voice. She’s not as brave as she wants him to think she is, but the front she insists on putting up makes Bucky’s heart twinge in fondness. His stubborn puppy.

“We’re celebrating your glorious and long-awaited homecoming, of course,” he coos. “All these nice folks? They showed up just to welcome you back.” He leans in to kiss her cheek, lingering there to whisper right against her skin, “And I missed you too, sweet pea. You got no idea how much.” He feels her shiver before she hisses at him, like a cat. He pulls back and gives her an assessing frown. “You’re so uptight,” he scolds. “Never did know how to let go and have a good time. I’ve always had to help you relax, haven’t I?”

Her pale skin colors beautifully. It takes her a moment to recover, but when she does she tries to hit him where it hurts, simpering a snotty little, “Oh, I don’t know. I was having a pretty good time on your yacht.”

Anger sweeps through Bucky, white hot and thrilling. Little Polina Barnes thinks she’s good at pissing him off. She is, but she’s got no idea how much her brattiness turns him on, too. If she did, she might think twice about opening her smart mouth (and Bucky can’t have that, he’d be so bored). Aside from her new penchant for leaving the flipping country, he’s always kind of enjoyed the thrill of hunting her down and dragging her naughty butt home.

But Belize is taking it too far. His yacht is taking it too far. And letting another man touch her is way beyond too fucking far. Bucky needs to reel his Little one in.

He sets the rim of his glass to her lips, tutting when she only glares up at him. “Don’t be that way, Lena. C’mon, have some. I want to see you loosen up a little.” She just presses her lips tighter together, and Bucky feels his cock thicken in his pants as he imagines using it to pry that prissy mouth wide open. He gives her a knowing smile. “No? Hm.” He finishes off the drink himself and sets it aside. He grabs her face and thumbs roughly over her lower lip, smearing the matte red of her lipstick down onto her chin. “Have it your way, Puppy. Steven?” he says, not looking at the man holding her still. “You’ve got our party favors?”

“In my left pocket,” Steve says, not reaching for them himself because he’s holding Lena’s waist and the tie wrapped around her throat. He’s not choking her, but the pressure on her neck has another effect. Bucky knows a few dirty secrets about his Little one that he’s sure she wishes he didn’t, namely that having a firm grip around her neck gets her wet. Bucky smirks and keeps his eyes on hers as he takes the liberty of reaching around her body and slipping his hand into Steve’s pocket. His fingers find the small shapes and close around them.

“Here we go,” he murmurs, pulling his hand back and holding the items up for Lena to see, chuckling when her face goes slack in shock. Her cheeks darken in a fierce blush and she starts tugging against Steve’s hold with renewed effort. It gets her nowhere of course, and Bucky and Steve share a brief amused look from over her shoulder. Bucky steps closer and pins her between them, hands stroking over her shoulders. “You didn’t think I brought you here just to watch Gleb get his, did you sweetheart? Oh, no.” He shakes his head slowly. “Mm mn. You’re gonna get yours, too.” He puts his lips to her ear and looks in Steve’s eyes while he whispers, “How long do you think before you’re cumming in front of all these people?”

Her struggles intensify, and she tries to head butt Steve behind her, but of course she’s too short for it. She huffs when his grip only tightens and she runs out of steam. “Ugh!”

“Don’t fight it,” Steve tells her, and she sneers back at him.

“Still playing the loyal dog, Steven?”

“Eh, I prefer attack dog. But sure.” He winks at Bucky and bares his teeth in a fake snarl. Bucky laughs. He really does love Steve.

“Ugh! Lemme go, you pathetic dumbass!”

“Hey. Don’t you be mean to Steve. He’s only doing his job.” Bucky puts the smallest of the three party favors in his mouth, letting it sit on his tongue and gripping Lena’s jaw hard to force her to open up for him. He shoves his tongue in, delivering the pill against her will and moaning theatrically to make her even more outraged. He holds her mouth shut after, pinching her nose until she finally capitulates and swallows. Only then does he allow her to have air, tutting in mock sympathy as she regains her breath. “What’s the matter, puppy? What’s got you so worked up, hm? I know it’s not whatshisface back there. Is it just being back home?” He cradles her face and murmurs tenderly, “Did you really think I wouldn’t find you?”

Her face crumples and she sobs a little, the sound hardly audible in the room's loudness, but Bucky couldn’t possibly miss it when he’s this tuned in to her. He kisses her again, this time very gently, letting their lips rest together for a moment afterwards; and he can feel the way she has to fight the urge to lean into it, to seek more. She absolutely despises him, but she has an enduring need for him as well, and she’s never been very good at hiding it.

“Tell me you missed me,” he breathes, his own desire winning out over the game for just a moment. “Please. What’s it gonna hurt to admit it?

“I hate you.”

“Mm. I know, Love, I know.” He brushes his lips against hers. “But you missed me all the same. Missed this.” He lets his hand trail down between her legs, working up underneath the silk of her slip. She whimpers and begs tearfully,

“No! Bucky, don’t.”

"Don't?" His fingers trail over the seam of her panties and he hums knowingly. "Your fancy panties are getting wet, Sweetheart. Did you wear these for me, or for your loverboy back there?"

“People will see!” she hisses.

“So? Let them see. You think anyone's going to step forward and stop me? Hm? Think somebody in this room is going to tell their дракон that he can’t touch what’s his? Because it’s what? Indecent?” He chuckles, thoroughly enjoying her humiliation. “Mm mn. You know that’s not happening, Princess.”

“Don’t. Please. Just … not here. Take me upstairs.”

For a second, Bucky actually pulls back to look at her face. But then he sees what it is she’s uncomfortable about, her pained expression flicking over to Gleb’s bound form behind them. Bucky feels jealous rage shoot through him. He’s always been meaner when he’s jealous. “You don’t want him to see?” he grits, then forces himself to soften his tone. “Oh, no no no. You can’t hide it anymore, puppy. Not from him or anyone else. I know what you like,” he reminds, cruel and quiet. “You know just how well I know.”

He’d bugged her devices starting when she was fifteen. He knows every dirty thing she’s ever watched, from the time she first learned how to touch herself. And his Little one knows this because he’s told her. It’d been the most satisfying moment of his life, when he’d told her that he felt the same way and watched the shock and mortification bloom on her face. That was the day he’d finally made her his—though he’d forced her to admit every single one of her filthy little fantasies out loud before he laid her down and took her virginity.

“I know how you like to feel owned,” he whispers in her ear, thrilling at the hitches it elicits in her breathing. “How you like to feel watched while powerful men touch you. What better way to satisfy those urges than by being taken by the Dragon, right in front of all his men?”

“Please don’t. You can’t.”

“What can’t I do?” he purrs, and she cries softly,

“You can’t, please. Because they know …”

“They know what?” he coaxes, wanting her to say it. He peeks up and looks at Steve from over her shoulder. “Know that you’re my sister?” he whispers. Steve’s eyes darken and Bucky's mouth curls. “Well, that shouldn’t bother you either, puppy. You and I both know your affinity for all those naughty step-sibling videos.” She whines miserably and he hushes her. “Aw, don’t be embarrassed. It’s actually a really popular genre. Number … seven, on Pornhub?” He kisses her cheek. “Right up there with M/F/M threesomes.”

Adorably, her breath catches and she stiffens against Steve’s body, now even more aware of his hulking form behind her.

Bucky hums, pleased. “There’s no need to be ashamed.” He peels her panties to the side and slips the tip of one finger along her lips. She’s not exactly soaked, but she’s not completely dry, either. “Of course, actual brother-sister incest isn’t quite as popular, but we know there’s a niche market for everything, don’t we?” Lena makes an outraged little sound that goes straight to his dick. He leans back enough to watch her expression as he holds up the second of the party favors for her to see. It’s white and thin, less than two inches long, and shaped like an itty bitty torpedo. “Something else to help you loosen up,” he tells her gleefully. “Do you want to take a guess where this one goes?”

She makes an adorable ‘meep’ of a sound and clamps her legs closed over his hand. “Don’t.”

He laughs. “Aw, good guess, little sis’, but not quite.”

“Step-sister,” she corrects shakily. “Bucky ...”

He smiles as he tries to read her, confused and tentative at first, but then growing into something devious. “Oh, I see. You’re honestly embarrassed about that? That people know we grew up together, shared the same house? Mmm." He licks his lips. "That’s not all we shared.”

"Stop it."

He watches her, thrilling in a huge surge of lust mixed with something dark and nasty. “Wow,” he astounds, goading her. “Oh boy. Just think what you’d do if they all knew the truth.”

“Bucky please.”

“Steve knows, you know. I told him forever ago.” He watches her eyes go wide and her body stiffen against Steve’s.

“You … you told …”

“Oh, don’t worry, sweet pea. He thinks it’s hot, too.” Lena looks honestly too shocked for words, and Bucky leans down to give her an absolutely filthy kiss, slipping his tongue into her mouth and holding her jaw there for it while, between her legs, he drags the suppository through her moist folds. She squeaks, and he pulls back. He lets her see him handing it to Steve. “Will you do the honors, pal?”

“What?” Lena breathes, lost. The sweet, dumb thing.

Steve keeps hold of the tie wrapped around her neck, but he has to let go of her waist to get at her. Bucky’s able to grab her just as she starts to try and fight it. “Ah ah ah, hold still,” he coos, yanking her wrists down at her sides in an iron grip. He steps even closer, squeezing her between his body and Steve's to subdue her wiggling, pressing his thigh forward between her legs. She freezes when her fighting just puts more pressure on her clit, and Bucky hums, pleased. “Good. Be a good girl now, Lena. We don’t want this to hurt.”

She goes straight back to struggling, and Steve shoots him a peeved look from over her shoulder. Bucky growls and sticks his face in her hair, warning lowly, “You know: there’s a syringe of morphine waiting in the wings for your boy back there.” Lena stills again, and he hums, “That’s right. Now, if you want him to actually get it before I let the widows have at him, then you’d better stop fighting and take what’s coming to you.” She sobs at the corner he’s got her backed into, but she doesn’t go back to fighting them. Bucky keeps her in his firm grip so that Steve can get to work behind her. “And you were wrong, puppy: It doesn’t go in your pussy.”

It’s too late for her to react. By the time her eyes widen in realization, Steve’s hand is already at her backside.

Bucky grinds his thigh forward as her pupils expand from the feeling, the bundle of aphrodisiacs summarily pushed up inside her tight little pucker. “You keep that in, now,” he warns. “You should start feeling it in the next few minutes, then I’ll give you your real consequence.”

She sobs quietly. “I hate you.”

“Old hat, baby.” He steps away from her, leaving Steve to keep her in place. The promise of lessening Gleb’s upcoming pain seems to be motivating her to behave. Bucky walks back over to the pole where he's got the sad sack tied up. Just to scare the crap out of him, he spends a moment tracing all the different tools that’ve been laid out for their use.

“Please,” Gleb begs.

“Shshsh,” Bucky coos, stepping close and cradling his face, intimate. “You fucked my baby sister,” he says. “What did you think was going to happen when I got a hold of you, hm?” Gleb trembles in his bindings and Bucky reaches for the pliers—a classic. Gleb’s eyes all but bug out of his head. “Colectăm mereu,” Bucky purrs in Romanian, reminding him who he’s dealing with. “You stole from the Bratva, son. Now you have to pay the price.”

“Please. I-I’ll do anything!”

He punches him in the gut, then grabs him by the hair and hisses in his face, “You already did everything! Took what belonged to me. Not very smart.”

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

He punches him again. "I sure hope that pussy was worth it.” He smiles while Gleb is trying to regain his breath. “Eh, it probably was. I should know.” Gleb squints in disbelief, and Bucky feels another perverse thrill shoot through him. “What?" he laughs. "Don’t look at me like that. I thought you knew. She didn’t tell you she likes to fuck her brother?”

Gleb’s face screws up. “Stepbrother.”

“You know, I’m getting real tired of that misconception,” Bucky drawls, turning back around to get a look at his Little one’s face. Her head is tipped back against Steve’s shoulder, the drugs working into her system by now. Bucky grins. “I told you I’d get you to loosen up, didn’t I? Big brother knows how to make you relax.” He tosses the pliers aside and saunters slowly back over to her. "I just told Gleb about us,” he says. “But I think it’s about time we make a more public announcement, don’t you, sweet pea?”

Her eyes widen. “Bucky, no.”

He grins wolfishly and spins around. He calls out to get everyone’s attention, and in a few seconds everything has quieted, the room eerily devoid of chatter despite the continuing pulse of the club’s music. Bucky goes over to the bar and demands something to toast with, and a flute of champagne is produced with shocking speed. He turns back to the room. “Thank you all for coming out tonight to help me welcome our beloved Polina back home!”

Some people clap, perhaps expecting some long, heartfelt speech. But Bucky cuts to the chase and says, “I’m sure you all know about she and I.” He waits, amused and sipping the champagne. When the crowd shifts nervously, he waves his hand at them and scoffs. “I mean that’s common knowledge, right? Everybody’s tongues were wagging when my father dumped my mother to marry his whore.”

He gestures back to where Steve is holding Lena, supporting her increasingly drugged little body. “Sweet little Polina was only a few years old, back then. And my dad’s infidelity wasn’t her fault." He shrugs. "So I inherited a bratty little sister. I guess the fact that we were still both kids makes the whole thing even juicer, huh? I know you all talk about it: 'The Dragon likes to fuck his own step-sister'. How scandalous.”

He laughs and walks back over to Lena. He caresses her face, leaning in to give her a dirty kiss with plenty of tongue. The crowd murmurs louder. Bucky pulls back and looks out at the room. “The Bratva wives love a good scandal. Don’t you, ladies?” A few of the wives in the crowd look flustered at being called out. Bucky salutes them with his champagne glass. “Well you’re in for a real treat, my dears. Because little Lena back here isn’t just my step-sister. Oh no.”

(Bucky’s always liked putting on a show, so he’s unfazed when making the actual announcement makes his cock harden further in his pants.)

“You see, dear old Dad was fucking around with his pretty shlyukha for a few years before he finally married her, and you know he even knocked her up.” The room goes absolutely silent, and Bucky feels a sick thrill go through him. “That’s right,” he croons, looking back over his shoulder at the stricken expression on his Little one’s face. “This sweet pea isn’t just my step-sibling: she’s my father’s daughter.”

It takes a surprisingly short amount of time before the crowd goes back to chattering, everybody staring wide eyed—some with disgust, others with excitement over this incredible new thing they have to be outraged over. Bucky shouts at the bartender to hand out champagne to anyone who wants it. He toasts the room. “To Polina!” Only a few dozen people raise their glasses and murmur in response, too shocked to know what to do in light of this revelation. Bucky really doesn’t give a crap. This is just a display of his power, just another way to show them—and her—that he can do whatever the fuck he wants and nobody is going to do a thing to stop him. The room slowly returns to the bustle of before, and Bucky returns to stand in front of his girl. “See puppy?” he taunts, lifting the champagne flute to her mouth. “I told you nobody would care.”

It’s a lie. Everybody cares, of course. But his point has been made. He watches as she willingly drinks the champagne. “Good girl,” he praises, setting the empty glass aside. He cups Lena’s face and gives her a tender kiss. “Now, why don’t we give them a show, huh?”

“Bucky,” she whispers, a plea.

But he can see her body relaxing into Steve’s hold despite her mortification, the drugs softening her up just like Bucky’s been waiting for. He pulls the remaining party favor from his pocket and holds it up for her to see. “Don’t worry,” he coos. “Your punishment isn’t going to hurt nearly as bad as Gleb’s.”

He turns the base of the tiny pocket vibrator on and starts it buzzing. “Now, let’s get you really begging, why don’t we?”

Masterlist

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[howyouloveyourdragon]

I enjoyed your a/b/o universe writing and had an idea. When laenor dies instead of rhaenyra marrying daemon, she convinces viscerys to marry her omega half sister to her. Nsfw content included if possible though please don't do the bedding ceremony that they do in westeros as I have always found that idea humilating to mostly the women

ooOo i like it, also yes i'm not keen on the bedding ceremony either i can write it if asked to but it's not my favourite, :)

also sorry for the length i got so carried away lol

𝐑𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐍𝐘𝐑𝐀 𝐒𝐀𝐓 𝐎𝐏𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓, one on either side of Viserys, both staring the other down. Alicent knew that there was a deeper reason for Rhaenyra's visit besides spending time with her ill father. And to her distaste she was correct. Rhaenyra hadn't allowed her children to join her, she couldn't risk another incident like last time she visited. She needed her father to see the benefits of the potential union above all else. Rhaenyra cleared her throat. "Father," She spoke, looking into his smiling face. "Has Y/n yet found a match?" Alicent's eyes narrowed and roamed her former friend's face. "No," Viserys answered with a light chuckle. "Alicent has made it extremely clear on the importance of her betrothed." Rhaenyra nodded slowly. "I agree." She started again. "Omegas are very rare, to have born one is a high privilege, she deserves someone truly worthy of her." Viserys nodded mindlessly but Alicent's stare felt the same as the last time they had fought. When Rhaenyra blinked she feared that she would open those eyes to see Alicent toward her with a dagger again. She shifted uncomfortably and listened to her father as he spoke of their child, pride evident in his tone. "We have received proposals but none yet that appease us." His daughter hummed at his statement. "And what about myself?" Viserys frowned. Alicent froze, her knife tightly gripped in her hand. "Yourself?" He asked. "I am recently widowed and in need of a betrothed. I have met Y/n before, she has visited Dragonstone often. She has become quite the charmer." Rhaenyra ignored the image of Alicent seething before her. "Nonsense." Alicent dispelled, swallowing down her anger as her jaw began to clench. Rhaenyra's brows shot upward, feigning surprise. She had expected this. "Why ever not?" She asked, attention turned to her stepmother. "She has come of age and I am a suitable candidate." "She will have no shortage of suitors and if an event changes this then Aemond is a perfectly suitable man." Alicent clicked her tongue. Rhaenyra narrowed her eyes but regained her composure. "Perhaps and while I deem it wise for her to keep our bloodline pure, Aemond is no alpha." Rhaenyra argued, turning her attention onto Viserys once more.

"At my side she will want for nothing, our bloodline will remain pure, her safety will be guaranteed and she will one day become Queen." She attempted to maintain her calm voice. She had learned quickly in life that her father prioritised peace and logic above anger. Alicent scoffed. It was Rhaenyra's son who had taken her own eye and now she wanted to take Alicent's daughter too? Her very pride? "You assume that she would approve of such a match. You barely know her, she has known Aemond her entire life." Rhaenyra's head snapped to her, her composure cracking for a moment. "Of course I know her, it is frequent that we exchange letters." She sneered. "How dare you cast such a vile accusation that she would be safer with any other." Alicent's now closed fist lands on the table with a threatening thud. "You dare cast the same, believing that you would bestow more safety on her than her brother?" Viserys stands as Rhaenyra leaps up from her seat. A tense air ensues. "Enough!" He commanded. "I am the girl's father and thus I shall decide on future arrangements." He seethed in frustration. Alicent's face turned to alarm while Rhaenyra grew dejected. She sighed. "Husband–" "Enough!" Viserys repeated. "I will be retiring to bed." Rhaenyra nodded and tried to calm her racing heart and prevent her flashing eyes. Alicent stared after him and considered walking him back but she could assume he would shrug her off–it wasn't often that he would be so irate "Yes, darling." She finally responded. Rhaenyra leaned forward to press a kiss to his cheek and then swiftly turned to leave through the corridors.

Alicent stood in hesitation for a moment before following after her former friend. "What are you playing at?" She spat, chasing after her. Rhaenyra turned quickly and paced toward her. "I have waited too long to find someone who enraptured me as your daughter does and trust me I do not delight in the fact that she shares the same blood that pumps through your veins but alas it is so." Rhaenyra's voice was bellowing and a low hiss rang through her teeth. Alicent stepped back. "But you understand that she was made for me and she, I. You speak of duty but deny the ones I wish to pursue–I will marry your child, delight her in my every aspect of my love or else I shall lay myself upon my father's throne and relinquish my very life to your hand. She will always be mine, my omega. No matter what you tell yourself, it will be me that she devotes herself to." She breathed heavily. Alicent's expression didn't waver from its stone but her mind was reeling in confusion, surprise, interest and doubt. Satisfied that she left the Queen speechless, she left to her chambers. Fluster embedded in her every motion as she prepared for flight. It was two weeks after her visit to the Red Keep before she recieved an answer from her father. She beamed greatly as she read it carefully.

ℜ𝔥𝔞𝔢𝔫𝔶𝔯𝔞, 𝔪𝔶 𝔡𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔱 𝔠𝔥𝔦𝔩𝔡,

ℑ 𝔥𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔴𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔫 𝔱𝔬 𝔞𝔫𝔫𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔪𝔶 𝔞𝔠𝔠𝔢𝔭𝔱𝔞𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯

𝔯𝔢𝔮𝔲𝔢𝔰𝔱 𝔬𝔣 𝔟𝔢𝔱𝔯𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔩 𝔱𝔬 𝔓𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢𝔰𝔰 𝔜/𝔫 𝔗𝔞𝔯𝔤𝔞𝔯𝔶𝔢𝔫.

She didn't read the rest, she didn't need to. Already, she demanded to be prepared for dragonback. She sent for her children to do so also and soon they were travelling.

At arrival Rhaenyra notices the cold reception but she finds herself not caring when she can see you running through to the castle's entrance with a fresh cut of flowers in your grasp, petals falling freely. onto the floor. She smiles fondly as you finally reach her. Your eyes light up and she swears she sees little dancing stars in your eyes. You thrust the handmade bouquet into her arms and bite your lip as she accepts. "For you, dear sister." She says. Rhaenyra admires the flowers in admiration. You turn to her sons, grinning, you wave at them. "Hi, Jace, hi Luke." You look at Joffrey and laugh at the way he tries to grasp onto your hand. "Hi little Joff." He frowns at displeasure of the name but ultimately ignores it as Jace jumps at the chance to wrap his arms around you tightly, Luke following after him. Rhaenyra allows you to reunite so she can watch the interaction between you all. You always did aim to please. "My children have missed you." She announces, Luke immediately discrediting this even though he still hasn't pulled away from you. You smile at the boys. "I have too, it will be nice to see you so often, nephews." Jace nods. Rhaenyra laughs gently.

The wedding was long and intense, Rhaenyra's hand never left you whether it lay on your own or your thigh it remained. She presses herself close as she murmurs sweet enchantments in your ear. The wedding is sweet and a short ceremony with Alicent almost drinking as much as Aegon. "I hope this evening has been pleasant for you, dōna riña." (sweet girl) She twirled a collection of hair from your face. You flushed under her gaze. "Of course, wife." You answered pressing shy chaste kiss to the corner of her lip. Rhaenyra smiled wickedly. "And for the next half of our evening?" She asked carefully, voice low. She smirked at the surprise and embarrassment on your face– she wanted to kiss it away. Sex was a pleasure not something to be ashamed of. "I want to take care of you, sweetling." She hummed against your face as she walked her fingers slowly over your dress, edging closer to your heat. "Will you let me?" You let out a small whine and leaned closer against her, throat growing dry with lust. Her voice is slightly rough and sends a trigger of excitement down your spine. You nod, drawing a low growl from her as her body begins to heat up. Suddenly, she pulled away from you and stood. "My wife and I shall now be taking our leave. We thank you for your attendance to our union. One that I'm sure will rejoice in love and strength." Rhaenyra announces. An applause greets her as she tugs your hand. You rise and feel her arm link with yours.

The moment your shared chamber doors are closed behind you, she pounces. Her fingers roam your body as she hoists you against the door and wraps your legs around her, it was times like these that made Rhaenyra pray in thanks to the gods for her alpha DNA. Her left hand cups your breast and squeezes enough for pressure but not too hard for discomfort. You moan as she presses open mouthed kisses to your jaw, slowly drawing down to your neck. She drinks in your whines and pushes her cunt against yours, her clit twitches which urges her other hand to slowly dance up your skirts. She lowers you slowly to the floor and turns you around to unlace your wedding gown, kissing along the back of your neck as she does so. She tosses all your garments aside until your bare before her, when you turn back around you find that she has also stripped herself. Her eyes trail over you like a predator, slowly edging back toward you. When you shiver, she takes your hands and urges them against her, moulding your fingers to rub slow circles against her clit. A gasp shot from you as she returned the favour with her own fingers. Your heart thumped wildly, begging to press against her and almost like she heard it's pleads, she thrust her body against yours. She once more lifts you, to wrap around her but this time to drop you on the bed. She looked into your face with desire evident in the dilation of her eyes. "Jaelā nyke." She stated. (You want me) She smirks down at you and slowly lowers herself to kneel on the floor. Her mouth hovers over your heat, you can feel her warm breath against you, your clit twitching. Rhaenyra seems to relish in your confusion. "Kesan bodmagho ao everything, ñuha jorrāelagon." She promises. (I will teach you everything, my love) Her lips lower onto you, her hands carefully kneading your legs apart like dough when they try to close. "My sweet girl." She continues to murmur. She licks at you gently and in slow measure until your hands reach below you.

"Faster, please!" You beg, desperate for her tongue. She doesn't for quite some time until she takes one index finger and thrusts it into your cunt. A loud moan expels from you like prayer. She chuckles below you, the vibrations rolling a wave of pleasure into you. "Ñuha mijegindita virgin." She says, building rhythm. (My poor virgin) She allows a growl to escape her. "So good for me, so desperate for me." She rolls a second finger into you and flicks you clit with her tongue. "You wouldn't want anyone else but your Queen would you?" It's a rumbling behind your throat that turns into a submissive mewl. "You like that my dōna byka ābrazȳrys?" You nod mindlessly as she pulls you apart in her palm. When she pushes a third finger, she can feel you're close. You whine as she brings you to the unfamiliar edge, stretching you until your body is made to bend around her but you suppose it is now. "Ao māzis syt nyke, sweetling?" She asks. (Are you coming for me, sweetling?) You groan. "Then come." Her voice is now a hiss as your body obeys her for you, your orgasm plunging out of you. She accepts the release ardently, the need for you intensifying as more ripples erupt from you. She takes it from you like a gift, slowly unwrapping you–savouring you.

When she pulls away, you can see the wetness on her lips she's wearing like a badge of honour. Rhaenyra takes away her fingers, only snickering at your whining. She grins at you and intertwines your fingers together, rolling up your body. She wraps her legs either side of yours and leans down to kiss you with fervour. She cups your face with one hand. She's gentle again, always gentle. "Avy jorrāelan, dōna riña." She smiles. (I love you, sweet girl) She watches you carefully. "Do you want to love me back, sweetling?" You nod weakly to which she rewards you with a kiss. You murmur as your lucidity returns though slightly hazy. Your eyes flicker up at her. "Be my throne." With that she rises onto your face, lowering her cunt against your lips. With tentative caution, you extend your tongue to her.

A/N so i got a bit carried away and didn't want make this too long but i would be happy to write a part ii :) <3

#yandere rhaenyra targaryen #yandere rhaenyra targaryen x reader #yandere rhaenyra targaryen smut #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #ask #request #anon #anon ask #anon request #hotd smut #house of the dragon smut #yandere rhaenyra x half-sister #yandere rhaenyra targaryen x half-sister smut #alpha rhaenyra x omega reader #alpha rhaenyra

[nayziiz]

Shadows | LN4

Summary: [Mafia] In the face of dire financial troubles, Lando receives a desperate plea from his father to unearth a lucrative solution within the family business. Fueled by the pressure to rescue his family from ruin, Lando stumbles upon a seemingly perfect venture—using luxury cars as a facade for the clandestine world of drug trafficking. With the unexpected partnership of Amelia Rossi, his father's best friend's daughter, Lando believes he has found the ideal accomplice. However, as the Norris family collides with the ambitious Russells in a ruthless bid to establish their dominance, the perilous path Lando has chosen places not only his newfound enterprise at stake but also entangles Amelia in the dangerous crossfire that unfolds.

Warning: Violence, drugs, blood, smut, fluff, guns

Pairing: Lando Norris x OC (Amelia Rossi) - appearances from other drivers

Masterlist

Chapter 12

As the morning light filtered through the curtains, Amelia stirred from her slumber, finding herself cradled in Lando's comforting embrace. The warmth of his body pressed against hers sent a wave of contentment washing over her, soothing her troubled mind. In that moment, as she lay tangled in the sheets beside the man of her dreams, Amelia felt a profound sense of peace and happiness. It was a simple pleasure, yet one she cherished above all else – waking up to the gentle rhythm of his breathing, the steady beat of his heart against her own. With a soft smile gracing her lips, Amelia nestled closer to Lando, grateful for the love and security he brought into her life with each new day.

As Lando contemplated the weight of the truth he had uncovered, he knew that he couldn't keep it from Amelia any longer. She deserved to know the whole story, no matter how painful it might be. Yet, he also understood the delicate nature of the situation and realised that he couldn't confront Amelia with this revelation alone. George, despite his troubled history with Amelia, held the key to unlocking the secrets that had been hidden for so long. Reluctantly, Lando reached out to George, knowing that their meeting would be fraught with tension and uncertainty.

As Lando swung open the front door to welcome George into their midst, Amelia's gaze hardened with palpable disgust. Her features contorted with a mix of anger and resentment, her eyes narrowing into sharp daggers as they locked onto George's figure. In that moment, he represented everything she despised—the bearer of painful truths and the architect of her shattered reality.

Every fibre of Amelia's being recoiled at the sight of George, the very embodiment of deception and manipulation. It was he who had wielded the power to unravel the carefully constructed facade of her life, exposing the dark secrets that lurked beneath the surface. The mere presence of George served as a constant reminder of the betrayal and turmoil that had engulfed her world, leaving her adrift in a sea of uncertainty and despair.

As George stepped across the threshold into the sanctuary of Lando’s home, Amelia's contempt burned like a raging inferno, consuming her from within. She resented the fact that he held the key to unlocking the truth, that he possessed knowledge that had the power to irrevocably alter the course of her life. He was the unwelcome messenger, delivering tidings of turmoil and upheaval, and she despised him for it with every fibre of her being.

Yet, beneath the veneer of her disdain lay a deep-seated fear—a fear of confronting the painful realities that lay buried within the depths of her past. Amelia knew that facing the truth would require her to confront her deepest insecurities and vulnerabilities, to confront the demons that had long haunted her dreams. And in George, she saw the embodiment of those demons, a constant reminder of the darkness that threatened to engulf her at every turn.

Sitting together in the elegant living room, Lando began to recount the events that had led him to unravel the truth about Amelia's past. With each word, the weight of the revelation hung heavy in the air, casting a shadow over the room.

Amelia listened in stunned silence as Lando revealed the shocking details of her kidnapping and the role her father had played in orchestrating the deception. Her emotions surged like a turbulent storm, alternating between disbelief, anger, and profound sadness. Yet, amidst the chaos of her emotions, there was a glimmer of relief in knowing that the truth had finally come to light.

As Lando concluded his account, he turned to George, silently acknowledging the pivotal role he had played in bringing the truth to the surface. For the first time, George appeared genuinely remorseful, his usual bravado replaced by a solemn sense of responsibility. With a sense of urgency, Amelia seized the opportunity to ask the questions that had been gnawing at her soul, her voice trembling with emotion as she sought to make sense of the shattered fragments of her past.

Amelia’s disgust was evident when Lando opened the front door for George. She hated the fact that George was the gateway for the information that turned her world upside down. When George entered the living room of the Norris home, his demeanour was softer and less questionable than usual. His intentions were pure this time around. He simply wanted to help her get the justice everyone deserved, especially the Mitchells.

“Well, I can’t say I’m happy that you’re involved.” Amelia's voice carried a heavy weight of resignation as she spoke, her gaze fixated on George with a mixture of weariness and disdain.

It was clear that his presence grated on her nerves, a constant reminder of the chaos and upheaval that had engulfed her life in recent days. Despite the gravity of the situation, she couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled in the pit of her stomach at the sight of him.

With a weary sigh, Amelia shifted her gaze to Lando, her expression a silent plea for reassurance amidst the tumultuous storm that raged within her. She had always valued his steadfast presence, his unwavering support serving as a beacon of hope in even the darkest of times. And yet, as she stood on the precipice of a harrowing revelation, she couldn't help but feel a sense of trepidation at the prospect of confronting the painful truths that lay buried beneath the surface.

“Believe me, I wish there was another way.” Lando interjected, his voice tinged with regret as he reached out to grasp Amelia's hand in a gesture of solidarity. “But George has proven himself to be an invaluable ally in uncovering the truth. And right now, that's exactly what we need.”

Amelia nodded in reluctant agreement, her features softened slightly by Lando's words of reassurance.

“So, what do you think would be the best way to expose Harold and the truth?” Amelia asked as she glanced between the two men in front of her.

Amelia's question hung heavy in the air, the weight of uncertainty palpable as she awaited a response from Lando and George. It was a pivotal moment, one that would dictate the course of their actions in the days to come. As she looked between the two men, she couldn't help but feel a surge of anxiety coursing through her veins, a nagging sense of doubt gnawing at the edges of her mind.

Lando furrowed his brow in deep contemplation, his mind racing with possibilities as he considered the best course of action. He knew that exposing Harold and revealing the truth would require a careful strategy—one that would minimise the risk of backlash and ensure that justice was served. With a thoughtful expression, he began to outline his plan, each word measured and deliberate as he laid out the steps they would need to take.

“First, we need to gather as much evidence as possible. That means digging into Harold's business dealings, tracking down any connections to Clyde Mitchells, and uncovering any incriminating evidence that could corroborate our claims.” Lando began, his voice steady and resolute.

Amelia nodded in agreement, her expression set with determination as she absorbed Lando's words. She knew that exposing Harold would require irrefutable proof, evidence that would withstand even the most rigorous scrutiny. With a sense of purpose driving her forward, she resolved to do whatever it took to uncover the truth, no matter the obstacles that lay in their path.

“And once we have the evidence, we'll need to go public.” Lando continued, his gaze unwavering as he met Amelia's eyes. “We'll need to ensure that the truth is heard far and wide, that there's no hiding from the consequences of Harold's actions.”

Adam stood just beyond the threshold of the study, his heart heavy with the weight of the conversation unfolding inside. As he listened to the trio discuss their plan to expose Harold, a sense of conflict gnawed at the edges of his conscience. On one hand, he felt a deep sense of loyalty to his best friend, Harold—a loyalty that had been forged over decades of shared experiences and mutual trust. Yet, on the other hand, he couldn't ignore the undeniable bond he shared with his son, Lando, and the fierce determination burning in his eyes.

For Adam, the situation presented an agonising dilemma—a choice between his loyalty to a friend and his duty as a father. He knew that whatever decision he made would have far-reaching consequences, shaping the course of their lives in ways he couldn't yet fathom. As he grappled with his conflicting emotions, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was standing at a crossroads, torn between two paths that seemed irreconcilable.

As the conversation inside the study continued, Adam found himself wrestling with his own sense of right and wrong, his mind racing with the weight of the decision he knew he had to make.

“If you need evidence, I’m sure I can help.” Adam announced as he stepped into the study.

Adam's sudden entrance startled the trio, their conversation abruptly halting as they turned to face him. Lando's expression shifted, a mixture of surprise and concern crossing his features as he regarded his father. Amelia's eyes widened with curiosity, while George watched Adam warily, uncertain of his intentions.

“Dad, what are you doing here?” Lando asked, his voice tinged with apprehension.

Adam took a moment to compose himself before responding, his gaze shifting between the three of them.

“I couldn't help but overhear your conversation.” he admitted, his tone sombre. “And I believe I may be able to assist you.”

Amelia's brows furrowed in confusion, while George remained silent, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied Adam.

“If you need evidence to expose Harold and uncover the truth, I may have access to information that could be of use to you.” Adam continued.

Lando regarded his father with a mixture of surprise and gratitude, a flicker of hope igniting in his eyes. Amelia leaned forward, her curiosity piqued by Adam's offer, while George remained guarded, his expression unreadable.

“What kind of evidence?” Lando inquired, his voice laced with cautious optimism. Adam hesitated for a moment, his gaze flickering with uncertainty.

“After all these years, after all the shady business I’ve done, I’ve built up reliable connections. That includes people who have knowledge of Harold's dealings, who could provide the evidence you need to expose him.” He explained carefully.

A sense of anticipation settled over the room as the implications of Adam's offer sank in. For Lando, Amelia, and George, it seemed that a glimmer of hope had emerged amidst the shadows of uncertainty. Yet, beneath the surface, lingered a sense of unease—an awareness of the risks and challenges that lay ahead.

“Mr Norris, I know you and my father have been great friends for a very long time. Please do not feel obligated to help if that means hurting your reputation.” Amelia's words were filled with sincerity as she addressed Lando’s father.

Adam's expression softened as he listened, a sense of warmth and understanding reflected in his eyes.

“Amelia, my loyalty to Harold does not outweigh my commitment to Lando as his father.” Adam responded, his tone measured yet resolute. “If aiding in this endeavour means holding those responsible for their actions, then I am prepared to do whatever is necessary. I can see how much this means to you both, so I will help as much as I can. You’re like a daughter to me, so it would only be an honour to assist.”

Amelia nodded in agreement, her appreciation for Adam's willingness to assist evident in her eyes. George remained silent, but a hint of gratitude flickered in his gaze as he regarded Adam.

“I understand the complexity of the situation, and I respect your friendship with Harold, Dad, but thank you. We’ll take all the help we can get.” Lando interjected, his voice steady.

Adam offered a reassuring nod, a silent acknowledgment of Lando's words. In that moment, a sense of unity and determination settled over the group—a shared resolve to pursue justice and expose the truth, regardless of the challenges they may face.

With a solemn expression, George retrieved a small, weathered envelope from the inner pocket of his suit jacket. The envelope, worn and creased with age, held the key to unlocking the truth they so desperately sought.

“Inside, you'll find documents that detail Harold's involvement in the events surrounding Clyde Mitchell's death. These are all original and no copies exist. My father hasn’t noticed that this is missing from our safe.” Georged confessed, his voice tinged with regret as he handed the envelope to Lando.

Lando accepted the envelope with a mixture of apprehension and determination. He could feel the weight of its contents pressing against his fingertips, a tangible reminder of the gravity of their mission. With careful precision, he opened the envelope and began to sift through its contents.

Within the folds of the envelope lay a collection of photographs, documents, and correspondence—evidence that painted a damning portrait of Harold's complicity in the tragic events of the past. Among the evidence were records of clandestine meetings, financial transactions, and witness statements corroborating Harold's involvement.

As Lando and the others examined the evidence, a sense of unease settled over them. The documents revealed a web of deceit and corruption, exposing Harold's true nature and the extent of his wrongdoing. Each piece of evidence served as a damning indictment of his actions, providing irrefutable proof of his guilt.

With each passing moment, the weight of the evidence grew heavier, its significance looming large in their minds. Yet, despite the gravity of the situation, there was a glimmer of hope—a belief that justice would prevail, and the truth could finally be brought to light.

Later that afternoon, after George left and Adam retreated to his room, Lando found Amelia huddled on the sofa in his room watching the fire crackle in front of her. Lando approached Amelia with a sense of tenderness, his footsteps soft against the carpeted floor. He could see the weight of the day's revelations bearing down on her, her shoulders slumped and her expression etched with a mix of exhaustion and contemplation. Sitting beside her, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, offering a silent gesture of comfort and support.

“Hey.” He murmured softly, his voice a soothing balm in the hushed tranquillity of the room.

Amelia turned to him, her eyes reflecting the flickering flames of the fire as they met his gaze. There was a vulnerability in her expression, a rawness that spoke of the emotions swirling within her.

“Hey.” She replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

They sat in companionable silence for a moment, the crackling of the fire providing a backdrop to their thoughts. Lando could sense the turmoil raging within her, the myriad emotions vying for her attention. He wanted nothing more than to ease her burden, to offer her solace in the midst of the storm.

“Are you okay?” He asked gently, his concern evident in his voice.

Amelia sighed, her breath hitching slightly as she released a pent-up tension. She leaned into Lando's embrace, seeking solace in his presence.

“I don't know. Overwhelmed, mostly.” She admitted quietly.

Lando nodded in understanding, his grip on her tightening ever so slightly. He knew that there were no easy answers, no quick fixes for the pain and uncertainty they were facing. All they could do was navigate the tumultuous waters together, drawing strength from each other along the way.

“I'm here for you, Milly.” He murmured, his words a whispered promise. “Whatever you need, I'm here.”

“What if he kills you?” Amelia suddenly asked, causing Lando to peer down at her.

The question hung heavy in the air, its weight palpable as it settled between them like a dense fog. Lando's expression softened as he regarded Amelia, his gaze unwavering despite the gravity of her words.

“I won't let that happen. I'll do whatever it takes to make sure we're both safe.” He reassured her, his voice firm with determination.

Amelia's brow furrowed in concern, her thoughts racing with the myriad of possibilities that lay ahead. The fear of retaliation loomed large in her mind, casting a shadow over their plans for justice.

“But what if he tries?” She pressed, her voice tinged with apprehension.

Lando's resolve remained steadfast as he reached out to gently cup her face in his hands, his touch a comforting anchor in the midst of uncertainty.

“We'll be prepared. We'll take every precaution, every measure to ensure our safety. And if it comes down to it, we'll face him together.” He vowed, his tone unwavering.

Amelia's gaze softened at his words, a flicker of hope igniting within her chest. Despite the dangers that lay ahead, she found solace in the unwavering support of the man beside her, his presence a beacon of strength in the face of adversity.

“Fuck, I love you.” She whispered, her voice filled with gratitude.

Lando's heart swelled with emotion at her words, his own feelings echoing the sentiment she expressed. He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead before meeting her gaze with unwavering sincerity.

“I love you too, Amelia.” He murmured, his voice a soft caress against her ear. “More than anything.”

As their lips met in a tender embrace, a rush of warmth surged through Amelia, igniting a fiery passion within her. The crackling of the flames mirrored the intensity of their kiss, each flicker of light casting a glow upon their entwined forms. In that moment, all worries and doubts melted away, consumed by the heat of their desire.

Lando responded to her kiss with equal fervour, his hands gently caressing her face as he deepened the connection between them. Their love blazed brightly, casting aside the shadows of doubt and fear that had clouded their hearts. In each other's arms, they found solace, a sanctuary where they could lose themselves in the intoxicating bliss of their shared affection.

With gentle care, Lando cradled Amelia in his arms, her weight feeling light and precious against him. He carried her effortlessly to the bed, where he lowered her down with tender reverence. As she settled onto the soft mattress, he hovered above her, his gaze filled with adoration and desire.

Amelia's heart raced with anticipation as Lando leaned in closer, his breath warm against her skin. She reached out to him, her fingers tangling in the fabric of his shirt as she pulled him closer, craving the closeness only he could provide. Their eyes locked in a silent exchange, speaking volumes of unspoken longing and devotion.

With a gentle touch, Lando brushed his lips against hers, igniting a fire that blazed to life between them.

“I had a dream once that started just like this.” Lando murmured against the skin of her neck in between tender kisses.

Amelia's breath caught in her throat as Lando's hands explored her with a gentle urgency, sending shivers of pleasure coursing through her veins. His touch was electric, igniting a fiery desire that consumed them both. With each caress, he traced the contours of her body, leaving a trail of tingling sensations in his wake.

Her skin tingled at his touch, her senses heightened by the intensity of their connection. As his lips continued to pepper kisses along her neck and collarbone, she arched into his touch, her body responding instinctively to his every movement. In that moment, they were lost in a world of their own creation, a world where nothing else mattered but the passion that burned between them.

With trembling hands, Amelia reached for Lando, her fingers entwining with his as they sought solace in each other's embrace.

“Let me take care of you.” Amelia tells Lando. “You're always looking after me.”

“Take care of me?” He asked, confused as he watched her.

Amelia reached down and found his hardened cock trapped behind his jeans. Their passion ignited as Amelia's touch sent a jolt of desire coursing through Lando's body. He surrendered to the sensation, his breath hitching as she explored the contours of his desire. With each caress, he felt himself drawn deeper into the intoxicating dance of pleasure, his senses overwhelmed by the intensity of their connection.

“Milly, baby.” Lando moaned, his voice a husky whisper as he succumbed to the overwhelming waves of pleasure crashing over him. In that moment, there was no past, no future, only the exquisite sensation of her touch igniting a fire within him.

He flopped over on his back as she moved to unbutton and unzip his jeans. She positioned herself in between his legs and pulled down his jeans and briefs in one smooth movement.  With a soft groan escaping his lips, Lando surrendered to the exquisite pleasure of Amelia's touch. He watched with eager anticipation as she leaned down, her warm breath sending shivers down his spine. As she wrapped her hand around him, he felt a surge of desire coursing through his veins, his body responding eagerly to her gentle touch.

The sensation of her tongue tracing a path from the base to the tip sent waves of ecstasy washing over him, his breath catching in his throat as he surrendered to the overwhelming pleasure. With each flick of her tongue, he felt himself spiralling closer to the edge, his senses consumed by the intoxicating rhythm of their desire.

Lost in the moment, he threaded his fingers through her hair, his touch gentle yet urgent as he urged her on. Every movement, every caress, sent sparks flying through his body, his skin tingling with anticipation as he surrendered to the exquisite sensation.

As she continued to tease and tantalise him, he felt himself teetering on the brink of ecstasy, his body yearning for release.

“Ah, that's nice.” He assured her, his voice laced with satisfaction. In that moment, all worries and concerns melted away, replaced by the overwhelming warmth of their connection.

Amelia's mind raced as she contemplated her next move. She wasn't one to perform oral sex, having disliked it immensely the one time she had tried. But in that moment, she felt an overwhelming desire to show Lando just how much he meant to her, to express her gratitude in a way that transcended words.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed aside her reservations and leaned down, pressing her lips to the sensitive skin of his inner thigh. She trailed soft kisses along his length, her touch tentative yet filled with determination. As she reached his tip, she hesitated for a moment before tentatively taking him into her mouth.

The sensation was foreign to her, yet she persisted, determined to give Lando the pleasure he deserved. She moved with cautious deliberation, her movements slow and deliberate as she explored his length with her tongue. With each passing moment, she felt a growing sense of empowerment, knowing that she was bringing him pleasure in a way that was deeply intimate and personal.

Despite her initial reluctance, Amelia found herself lost in the moment, her focus solely on the man before her and the overwhelming connection they shared. And as Lando's pleasure intensified, she felt a sense of satisfaction wash over her, knowing that she had succeeded in conveying her love and appreciation in the most intimate way possible.

As she continued to explore him with her mouth, Amelia focused on the sensations coursing through her, the taste and texture of him overwhelming her senses. She experimented with different techniques, using her tongue to tease and tantalise him, eliciting soft moans of pleasure from Lando's lips.

“Baby, I'm going to cum in your mouth if you keep doing that.” Lando murmured his warming to her.

Amelia paused for a moment, savouring the intimacy of his words, before resuming her ministrations with renewed determination. She adjusted her technique, focusing on the sensitive areas that she knew would drive him wild with pleasure.

As Lando's arousal grew, Amelia felt a surge of excitement coursing through her, knowing that she was the cause of his overwhelming pleasure. She continued to work her magic, using her mouth and tongue to bring him to the edge of ecstasy.

Lando didn't want to cum in her mouth. He pulled her up and hastily removed her leggings. He was too eager to wait and pushed her panties aside before thrusting into her. A deep groan left her lips as he flipped them over, with her laying on her back.

Amelia's breath caught in her throat as Lando's urgency swept over her, igniting a fire of desire within her. She arched her back, offering herself fully to him as he entered her with a force that left her gasping for air.

“Want to cum inside you, baby.” He informed her in between sloppy kisses.

“Yes, Lan.” Amelia conceded, swept up in the pleasure of feeling him inside her.

As he began to move inside her, the sensation of his powerful thrusts sent waves of pleasure coursing through her body, each movement driving her closer to the edge of ecstasy. She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him deeper into her as they moved together in perfect harmony.

Their bodies moved in sync, each movement bringing them closer to the brink of pleasure. Amelia's moans filled the room, a symphony of desire that echoed in the air as they surrendered to the intensity of their passion.

After several fast thrusts, Lando released his cum inside of her. Amelia clung onto him as he shook from pleasure, her nails digging into the skin of his back as he continued to thrust lazily. As their breathing slowed and their heartbeats steadied, Amelia found herself lost in the depths of Lando's gaze, her soul laid bare before him.

“Fuck.” He moaned once more, hovering over her before pulling out. “Now you, baby.”

“No, Lan. That was for you. I wanted to take care of you.” Amelia insisted, offering him a reassuring smile, her eyes filled with affection.

“But, you didn't finish.” Lando pointed out, his brow furrowed with worry.

“I don't have to. Watching you cum was enough excitement for me.” Amelia replied softly, her tone laced with sincerity.

“Are you sure?” Lando's expression softened as he realised the depth of her love and selflessness.

“Certain.” Amelia affirmed, her gaze unwavering.

“Let me clean you up at least?” Lando insisted to which Amelia nodded.

Lando retreated into his ensuite bathroom and wet a washcloth with warm water. He returned to the bed and gently wiped away the remnants of their lovemaking from Amelia's thighs. He then proceeded to wipe himself down and pulled up his briefs to his hips once again.

As Lando helped her get dressed, a fleeting thought crossed his mind about the possibility of pregnancy resulting from their intimate encounter. It was a natural concern, given the intimacy they shared and the potential consequences that could follow.

“Do you think you could get pregnant?” Lando asked, his tone earnest yet slightly hesitant.

“I'm sorry, what?” Amelia replied, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

“Do you think you could get pregnant?” Lando reiterated, his expression reflecting a mix of concern and curiosity.

“Uh, I don't know, Lan. I doubt I could, considering I'm on birth control.” She explained, trying to sound reassuring despite the lingering uncertainty.

“Okay.” Lando acknowledged, his tone softening as he processed her answer.

The expression on his face allowed Amelia to put two and two together and she decided to tease him about it.

“Tell me, Mr Norris, do you want me pregnant, carrying your baby?” She wondered.

Amelia's question took Lando by surprise, his cheeks flushing slightly as he processed her words. He shifted uncomfortably, unsure how to respond to her inquiry.

“Stop, you make that sound sexier than it should be.”  Lando replied, attempting to deflect Amelia's question with a playful remark.

Despite his attempt at levity, he couldn't shake the subtle undercurrent of arousal that coursed through him at the thought of such an intimate scenario.

“God, Lan, do you have a breeding kink?” Amelia pressed further, her tone teasing yet curious.

“What? No.” Lando replied quickly, his voice betraying a hint of defensiveness. He struggled to find the right words to articulate his feelings, his mind racing with conflicting emotions.

As Amelia studied him, her gaze unwavering, Lando couldn't help but feel a pang of vulnerability. He knew that their intimate conversations often delved into uncharted territory, but the topic of pregnancy and parenthood struck a particularly sensitive chord within him.

“Look, Milly, it's not like that.” Lando began, his voice softer now, tinged with a hint of uncertainty. “I mean, sure, the thought of... of us, you know, creating something together, it's... it's kind of... exciting.” He admitted, his words trailing off as he struggled to articulate his thoughts.

“You want to have my babies, Lan?” Amelia continued to tease him.

Amelia's playful banter brought a smile to Lando's face, his eyes twinkling with a mixture of amusement and desire. He couldn't deny the rush of excitement that coursed through him at the thought of starting a family with her, their shared intimacy deepening with each passing moment.

“All of them.” Lando replied with a mischievous grin, his voice laced with anticipation.

The prospect of fatherhood filled him with a sense of purpose and joy, the idea of creating a life with Amelia igniting a flame of passion within him. Amelia's touch was gentle yet electrifying as she cupped Lando's cheek, her lips meeting him in a tender kiss. In that moment, their connection felt unbreakable, their love transcending words as they shared their hopes and dreams for the future.

“You’d make a wonderful Daddy for our babies.” Amelia remarked, her voice filled with affection as she gazed into Lando's eyes.

Lando's heart swelled with love for her, his desire to build a life together growing stronger with each passing moment. He couldn't wait to embark on this journey with her, to experience the joys and challenges of parenthood hand in hand.

“Alright, just fuck me again so I can put a baby in you.” Lando teased, his playful tone belying the depth of his longing.

Amelia's laughter filled the room as she straddled him, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.

#f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #formula 1 #lando norris #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fic #lando norris smut #mclaren #mclaren f1 #lando norris x oc #mafia!au #mafia!f1 #f1 drivers #f1 driver x oc #lando norris x reader #f1 driver x reader #f1 x reader

[brrbrina]

echoes

part: 2/?

pairing: joe burrow x og!c

warnings: cheating, angst, fluff (?), pregnancy (?) and i think that´s it.

The day after Joe left the house for the very first time, Kendall felt a wave of sadness take over her body. She was devasted, and tired, she constantly woke in the middle of the night as if the house she was sleeping in was haunted.

Every single part of that bed smelt like him, every part of her body was once kissed by the lips of a man who had kissed someone else and she despised that. She felt like her world stopped, when they met, falling in love was not on her plans, and falling in love with a man like Joe wasn´t what she wanted.

"I think we should go with the big backyard one," Joe said hugging her from the back, "This way our babies would have the space to run, and then the babies of our babies" he chuckled putting his lips against the back of her head, Kendall smiled and closed her eyes; it was one of the moments she felt like her life made sense in only a way love makes you feel.

Now, that memory pained her, she was tied to him for life, for two entries now, she didn´t know what to do. The night Kendall found out she was pregnant -again-, happiness took over her body, brainstormed ideas of how she would tell her big baby and the love of her life the good news. The night she confronted Joe became savory, the memory of her telling the news to the father of her son was stained by betrayal and insincerity.

"I made waffles and fresh orange juice" Joe smiled at her showing the plates in the breakfast bar, which was once planned down to the smallest detail. "I think you should go" Kendall sighed "Natalie has a friend coming over today for a playdate and I don´t want her to create a false story on her head in which you come back here and we live happily ever after".

"Who is Mat?" Joe asked her and Kendall looked at him with surprise, "You do know I'm the father of Natalie and that baby you´re carrying right? You are not messing up the mind of my children with that man coming and hanging with them..." Kendall stopped him "You have a lot of nerve telling me I´m the one "messing" with her mind when you were fucking someone else" Joe looked down.

"While Natalie was sleeping here, happy that her daddy won a game so she could tell her friends in school he was the best, you were putting your dick inside another woman, so no, I'm not messing anything up, you did" water filled her eyes and her voice trembled when she stopped "You took away the happiness of being pregnant with MY baby and turned into a grey cloud above me every single day" she felt her knees weak.

"I hate you so much Joe, I hate you because a part of me needs you like a drug I'm addicted to, and I hate you because you destroyed the life WE built together, my kids will grow up in a broken home and the worst part of all is that I will never tell them what you did, that´s the difference between me and you. I´m putting them on top of everything and you didn´t even think twice about the damage you would cause" She said sobbing, and Joe felt his blood drop to his feet.

He left Kendall´s place and drove to the condo he was living in at the moment, he found no motivation in anything, he missed the chaos of his past life. He remembered clearly when he and Kendall got married.

"... You have filled my life with colors and turned it into a musical every time you´re near me. I promise to love you and take care of you and the family we will hopefully soon start. There is not a day where I take you for granted, waking up beside you it´s a pleasure and something I will love to grow old with.

You are the woman of my dreams, the best road trip partner, and the comedic duo made for me, I will make sure to remind you that I´m the man that I am because of you. That every mole on your body holds a million I Love You´s you will hear forever. I´m so happy that I´m becoming Mr. Carter" Kendall chuckled "I know you´re the designer but you´re the muse of my life, of every romantic, naughty, or funny thought that comes to my mind you´re the one I see. I love your laugh and I will try my best to come up with the biggest dad jokes so I can crack a small out of you. Here´s to a lifetime of love, I love you, Kenny."

He didn’t have the guts to admit when he stopped loving her because he wasn't sure if he ever stopped.

People always say you don´t know what you have until it´s gone and he realized that too late, when he met Jackie, he loved the adrenaline of starting a romance again. But now it was painful, he missed everything about Kendall. The way she always made him choose the color of her nail polish or how the pantry was always stocked with Joe´s favorite candy.

How was he so naive to lose his soulmate, the mother of his kids, the love of his life but also his best friend. He hated his life now, a life without her or his kids was a living nightmare, his baby was about to be born, and he hadn´t seen a single eco photo of him. Kendall was sad and blue all the time, the only thing keeping her going was her babies and the company she worked so hard for.

She missed Joe, she couldn´t forget him, and she was tired, she was about to give birth and her life would be upside down once again.

"God I miss you so much" was the first sentence that came out of her mouth when she boldly called Joe at 1 am, she had been crying nonstop, and as much as she hated to admit it, he was the love of her life.

He showed up that night, and he stayed there. It was pointless for him to go home when his pregnant ex-wife was almost about to give birth.

The next few months were a roller coaster of emotions, their baby was born, Joe wasn’t there when he arrived to this world. He was on a work trip when baby burrow arrived and everything happened too quick. Kendall went into labor at 7 am and her baby came out of the womb right away. He looked so much like Joe, it was a very strange feeling, when Natalie was born. He was there, he held her hand as she was pushing their baby girl into a world in which they would do anything to make her happy. That was the only promise Joe made to Kendall that she was sure he would keep.

The new baby mama had been crying nonstop, she wasn’t sure of how she would manage her life now as a single mom with a soon to be a 6 year old.

“How are you doing?” Joe said entering the room with ballons and flowers, Kendall started to cry again. They weren’t in bad terms now, they will share the most important thing on their lives forever. There are science fairs, dance recitals, birthdays, christmas and thanksgiving they will have to share.

“I’m not gonna lie, i’m very scared” Kendall said holding her tears. “Kenny you’ve done this before, you are the best mom ever, Natalie and baby are so lucky that you’re their mother” Joe said smiling with teary eyes. “I know i’ve done this before but i wasn’t doing it alone you know?” The guilt eat Joe alive every second of the day. “Hey, i’m not going anywhere, i can stay home until baby is a bit older” Kendall chuckled, and then start to cry again “What’s wrong?” Joe looked at her concerned “Everything Joe, our baby is here and we don’t even have a name for him, and Natalie keeps asking when is her daddy coming home and i’ve run of ways of explaining her why he’s not” She cried “I hate my new life, I hate going grocery shopping alone and carrying everything by myself, i hate driving everywhere and i really really miss you Joe” he was crying when she said that.

“I know I fucked up, and no amount of sorry’s will mend what I did, we can work this out, for the fourth of us - “ He was interrupted by the nurse entering with baby burrow after checking that everything was okay with him, Joe saw him for the first time and started crying, he held him in his arms and the nurse walked out of the room. “He looks so much like Natie” he whispered and Kendall giggled as she wiped her tears away. “Both of them look like you it’s not fair” she said crossing her arms “We can always try and make one that looks like you” Joe smirked and Kendall’s mind went numb, she didn’t had and expression on her face “Sorry maybe that was too much” he cleared his troat.

“I will make you fall in love with me again, I promise my love” he kissed her forehed and that was the last thing Kendall heard before she fell asleep. And she was so happy to hear that.

a/n! Hiii, i hope you like this chapter, i think the next one it’s the last one of our little series. :) I’ll try to post over the weekend but i don’t promise anything. If you want to be added to the tag list, let me know in the comments. And i would love to hear you thoughts on this chapter and how do you expect the next one will be!!

#joe burrow #joe burrow fluff #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow blurb #joe burrow angst #joe burrow echoes

[erikatsu]

DANCING AFTER DEATH — dainsleif

✦ SUMMARY: a heathen's holiday is the perfect time to slip away with the man you've been seeing in secret

✧ PAIRING: dainsleif x fem!reader (princess!reader)

✦ WARNINGS: non-explicit [n]sfw. soft & vanilla. more intimate than anything and disgustingly soft. forbidden relationships. royal au. sorta fits bmfd universe but not really. self-ship coded. pet names (elska mín and prinsessa). reader is shorter and has longer hair (as this is catered to myself) otherwise no other physical descriptors.

✧ WC: 2.03k

Music and laughter were muffled by closed doors, a party raging in celebration of Valisblot among other things such as new hope, the ending of the cold season, and remembrance. While Khaenri'ah had no natural light of the sun, the people knew how to build a celebratory bonfire that shined just as bright. 

You hated celebrations. 

There was too much commotion, too many people. You never could quite focus on someone who was talking when there was background noise. It always had you feeling overwhelmed, which would lead to subconsciously tuning out conversations and staring off into space. Sometimes you wondered if people thought you were rude, especially when you would disappear after making your rounds. Maybe they didn't even notice, trying to get the attention of your father– the king. Either way, nobody said anything to you. 

Well, nobody except for your guard, Dainsleif. Then again, that was to be expected. Afterall, he was more than just your guard. He was your best friend, your most trusted confidant, and above all else he was the love of your life. It was why he was always quick to notice when you’d sneak away, coming to find you in the hall that overlooked the city as per usual. 

It was a shame really, that your relationship with him had always been tip toeing and hushed conversations late at night. Being the crown princess of the nation meant you were off limits. Had you been the second born, things would have been different. Instead of spending time with your possible suitors, you spent your time with Dainsleif. 

Surely, those close with both of you knew there was more than what was on the surface– take Halfdan for example. He teased the two of you constantly, even though you always brushed it off by telling him to not speak of such nonsense so openly. Your little brother, who was more interested in fighting than he was into romance, could sense it too. It would come as no surprise if your father also knew. 

“Calling it a night already?” The amusement in his tone brought a small smile to your lips as you stared out towards the villages, hearing cheer and joyous laughter from below.

You let out a sigh as he came up beside you, just barely brushing your shoulder with his own, “You know that I don't do well in group settings like this.”

He turned to look at you, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips while a certain sadness glinted in his eyes, “I'm well aware. However, a princess must gain the favor of her people and keep it when she ascends the throne.”

You frowned, the thought of your future souring your mood. With what was in store for you, the only place for him was within the guard. He wasn't someone you could openly have or hold, and you knew it wasn't fair to him to keep him by your side forever. What you had must end.

“I do not wish to take the throne,” You admitted, refusing to meet his eyes. “I'm weak when it comes to the art of the sword, I am not brave, and I am far from a socialite. Khaenri'ah deserves better than me at its head. It deserves a ruler who can confidently lead the knights into battle and who can soothe unrest as it arises.”

Dainsleif knew you were fairly reserved– not necessarily timid, just anxious about talking to those you didn't know– and it was true you weren't the best at swordsmanship, but he’d never seen a better archer. When push came to shove, you would be a great leader. You just needed a little faith in yourself.

“I'm going to abdicate the title of crown princess,” you decided at that moment, shocking not just him but yourself as well. “I was not made for this path. I was born into it, and continuing this way doesn't lead to a future where I am happy.”

You didn't give him a chance to ask you to  elaborate further, walking away from him without another word. He followed, quickly catching up and falling into step beside you. Dainsleif should’ve known you had something up your sleeve as he caught a glimpse of a devious smile– sighing as you took off running down the open corridor. 

He chased after you, just like he always did when you were in a playful mood. You always avoided emotional topics, evading them through childish antics. Making him chase you through the halls of the palace was nothing new, which is exactly why he should have seen it coming. 

Your soft laughter filled his ears as you came to a stop, pushing open the large wooden door that led to your quarters. You slipped inside, covering your hand with your mouth to muffle your giggles, heart racing from the adrenaline coursing through you. He wasn't too far behind, walking in just moments later. 

He shook his head, slowly approaching and pulling you in by your waist, “You can't run away from everything, elska mín, including your duties.”

“Foregoing my birthright is not me running from anything,” you assured him, reaching up to gently caress his cheek. “It's me choosing my own happiness over a life of misery.”

He leaned into your touch, eyes closing and soaking in your words. You would give up security, riches, and the throne for him? If you were running head first into the unknown instead of staying in a life where you weren't happy, then that made you braver than you even knew. However, a shred of guilt nagged at the back of his mind.

“I can't ask you to do that for me,” He muttered, slowly looking at you. “Not for me.”

You grinned, leaning up to press your lips against his, “I don't recall you ever asking.”

Dainsleif was unsure if you were actually convincing or if his own feelings and selfish desires overcame any apprehension he felt about your decision. Maybe your kiss also held a little power, reeling him in the rest of the way as if sealing a deal. He didn't hesitate to return your affection, moving his mouth against yours. 

He always seemed to melt into you, almost losing his inhibitions as soon as you touched him. You were intoxicating, all his worries about any trouble the two of you could get into if you two were caught faded away and were replaced with the sensation of lightheadedness and spinning. If he didn't know any better, he'd think you'd used some form of magic to drop his guard and have him forgetting that you were a princess and he was a knight. 

All too soon you pulled away, lightly biting down on your lip before stepping back. You held out your hand, waiting for him to take it before walking him over to the bed. 

He could remember the first time as if it were yesterday. He’d been apprehensive– seeing that only the king's bedchambers were completely private– not wanting anyone to walk by and get curious only to discover what you two were doing. It was one thing to fool around with your guard, but it was completely another for the princess to not remain pure until marriage. 

Now, it barely bothered him in that sense. Drawing the curtains on the canopy bed made it harder to see, and blowing out the candles made it nearly impossible. The only time that happened was if it wasn't late enough, as he hated not being able to see you. 

Despite all the walls he'd put up to keep you from weaseling your way into his heart, you'd had them crashing down to reveal a side of him that nobody got to see. The vulnerable side. The side that a knight couldn't show. Feelings lead to weakness, and if he showed his, it would lead his enemies straight to you. 

Instead of an ironclad grip on the hilt of his sword, his hands could finally be used for gentle touches. They way he lightly ran them over your waist before slowly undoing the strings of your corset– just as he was now– raising goosebumps on your arms and nearly causing a shiver to run down your spine. The mouth that directed orders now softly peppering your skin and lips with tender kisses. He showered you with love through his devotion, making up for the times he couldn't openly hold your hand or kiss your cheek. He always took his time, savoring every moment as if it could replace all the time lost between you two, hands gliding over your body to commit it to memory.  

Somehow, Dainsleif managed to leave you dizzy and weak in the knees just from a simple touch. Time would speed up yet simultaneously slow down, blurring everything together until he brought you back to reality with a delicate kiss. There were instances where you swore you could feel the warmth of a sun you never knew through him– comfort and safety with a single look. To him, you were the moon– elegant and a guiding light in the darkness. Both balancing each other yet fated to be kept apart. 

Perhaps that was why it was so easy to fall for him. 

You remembered a time where you thought you'd never be able to have him, and this very moment proved all those doubts wrong. It gave you the hope that one day, you could see the real sun and show it to him so he would know what he's provided for you. Because for you, there was nobody else and there never would be. 

There is nobody else you'd step down for. There is nobody else you'd completely give yourself to. There is nobody else that you would want to love you– no one who would in the same way he did. 

Even though it was a tightly kept secret, and all the possible consequences of being caught weighed down on your shoulders, it was worth the risk.

It was worth every time you lied with him, just like right now. Hiding away in the canopy bed, the low light barely allowed him to see your face while the two of you became one. It was worth every kiss, every roll of his hips, and every “I love you” that fell from his mouth. If absence made the heart grow fonder, it showed when the two of you were together. 

Getting tangled up in the sheets, forgetting the outside world as if you were the only two who existed. It was as freeing as it was enchanting– to be able to lose yourself in someone you loved. Both of you soaked in every chance you had, memorizing every detail of the other. Like the way your fingers dipped into the skin of his shoulders, how he nibbled on your bottom lip to keep from being too loud, or the way he showered you in kisses after the fact before resting his forehead against yours. 

After calming down and cleaning up, he'd pull you into him– one arm wrapped around you, another running a hand through the tresses of your hair all while you laid your head on his bare chest, tracing patterns into his skin. Comfortable silence fills the room, almost lulling you to sleep even though he'd have to make his exit soon. 

But, before he can even think about sitting up, you do. Turning to look at him, giving a playful pout that he already knows he can't say “no”, you say, “Stay with me tonight.”

“If I'm not at–”

You press a finger to his lips to keep him from talking, “We both know Halfdan will cover for you. Besides, a heathen’s holiday means even most of your subordinates will be hungover in the morning. I'm sure they'll think their missing captain was kind enough to let them recover for the day.” 

He could never deny you. The way his soft chuckle was free of concern as he drew you back into him filled you with excitement. He pressed a small kiss against your lips, “I'll make sure they give their thanks to you, prinsessa.”

TAGS: @dottores @dxlucs @no3tis @suyacho @mxnjiros @aroalbedo

#dainsleif x reader #dainsleif x you #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you

[lemonsprite]

𝐌𝐚𝐡𝐚𝐥’𝐬 𝐆𝐢𝐟𝐭 || 𝐋𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐬 𝐱 𝐆𝐢𝐦𝐥𝐢

Summary: Mahal has blessed Gimli and Legolas with a gift

Word count:

Warnings: none! All fluff :)

A/N: side note I love the headcanon that hobbits are like cabbage patch kids and that dwarves are like those Nat Geo archeology kits

“A rock?” Asked Legolas, raising an eyebrow at the uneven stone in his hands. The elf looked down at Gimli with confusion.

“Nay.” The dwarf shook his head, smiling, and took the stone (practically boulder) from Legolas’ hands.

“A rock from Mahal.”

Legolas was silent, staring at Gimli as if he was insane.

“And what does that mean?”

The dwarf’s face went as red as his hair, his eyes looking everywhere but Legolas. The rock was so big Gimli’s hands could hardly cradle it and Legolas couldn’t help but be intrigued by the strange stone. It was lumpy and sharp as if the rock had just been chipped from the mountainside and scraped the palms of Legolas’ smooth hands.

“You don’t know much about dwarven culture, yes?”

Legolas nodded his head suspiciously, eyeing the stone.

“Well, when Mahal made us in the forges he created a second one for each of us, an eternal partner, our one.”

The elven prince stood silently in agreement. After all, he was quite familiar with at the very least, this ideal. His father, Thranduil, had complained more than once about that dwarven prince and Tauriel.

“Well.” Gimli began once more, one of his gruff hands fiddling nervously with the braids of his beard. “Once you have met your one and Mahal has deemed you ready you are to be gifted a child.”

“A child…” Legolas thought aloud, his eyes narrowing in thought at the dwarf next to him. “You mean to tell me that stone…”

“Is an infant.” Gimli finished for the elf, holding the rock closer to his chest. “It is how we Khazâd are born.”

Legolas was silent, processing everything Gimli had just revealed.

“But…” He began, furrowing his brow in confusion. “That would mean you’d have found your one, would it not?”

If possible, Gimli’s face turned even redder, his eyes frantically searching the ground beneath Legolas’ face so as to not look him in the eyes.

“Aye.”

Legolas froze, Gimli’s confirmation suddenly causing his stomach to sink, Legolas stuck now with the undeniable evidence that he’d have to be sharing Gimli with someone else.

He quickly dispelled these thoughts. Legolas placed his hand tenderly on the other's shoulder, throwing a gentle smile on his face before his friend beside him could even notice anything off.

“Why Gimli, that's… Great.” The dwarf practically flushed at Legolas’ words, caressing his thumb against the rough exterior of the stone.

“Who is she?”

Gimli froze, staring perplexed at Legolas.

“What do you mean she?” He asked, his gruff voice filled with surprise.

“Your one.” Explained the elf. ‘Why was Gimli so confused?’

Gimli stared at him as if he’d punched the dwarf right between his eyes. “My dear friend-” He sighed, exasperated, running a hand down his face. “You are my one.”

Legolas felt as if the Valar themselves had just descended from above, blood rushing to his face faster than he could string a bow. The elf was silent, wanting to say so many things at once yet nothing came.

Gimli frowned, holding the rock in his arms tighter. “I understand if you do not feel the same.” He sighed heavily. “after all, you are an elf-”

Before the dwarrow could finish his sentence Legolas was upon him like a stork to bird seed. He engulfed Gimli in a hug that would crush a mortal man.

“The Rock Legolas!” Gimli exclaimed, buried in the elven princes arms.

Legolas released him, holding Gimli an arms length away. He nodded his head vigorously, ignoring the nagging voice in the back of his head that sounded suspiciously like his father telling him off.

“Apologizes… I got away from myself… I just…” Legolas trailed off, a small giddy smile crossing his lips. He could not believe the news he was hearing. Gimli was his, he was Gimli’s. They were meant for each other… after all according to the dwarves they were fated, it was destined by the gods.

Gimli looked tenderly up at Legolas, cradling the rock in his arms.

“Aye… you… do feel the same yes?” He asked, searching the Elves face for confirmation.

“Very…! A child Gimli!” He exclaimed, and the dwarf had never seen Legolas so joyous. “Our child!”

Legolas grabbed Gimli’s hands so that both were now holding the stone and smiled brightly down at the dwarf. His hands completely swallowed Legolas’, Gimli’s palms scarred and calloused from years spent in the forage.

“Meleth nîn.” Said Legolas quietly. “Thalion nîn, Melethron nîn.”

Gimli smiled, his ears picking up on what little he knew of the Sindarin language.

“One of these days I must teach you Khuzdul.” He said, looking down at the small boulder cradled in their hands. “Your elvish language is to sweet.”

“My word say nothing but the truth.” Said Legolas tenderly. “I’ve waited long for a moment like this.”

He leaned his head down as best he could, touching his forehead to Gimli’s the rock laid dormant between them.

Jojo try not to mischaracterize Legolas challenge (impossible)

#fanfic #fanfiction #lord of the rings #the hobbit #literature #gimli x legolas #gimli son of gloin #gimli #gimleaf #legolas #lotr #the lord of the rings #drabbles #kid fic

[dreamerinthemoonlight]

Of Memory and Brotherhood

Who likes angst with a side of Kaeya and Diluc reconciliation? Me! Who likes being an absolute bitch to her favorite characters? Also me. So have another fic that is pretty much just those two things.

Summary: Kaeya has a nightmare--no, an inherited memory of Khaenri'ah's fall. Diluc is there to help pick up the pieces

CW: Heavy angst, intense imagery, panic attacks, angst with a happy ending

Word count: 1490

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

Kaeya walks through familiar-unfamiliar city streets. All around him are the tell tale signs of a civilization crumbling.

Soaring buildings, truly magnificent in construction, are torn down. Chunks of stone, pieces of metal warped beyond all recognition, are strewn across once smooth roads.

In between bits of rubble, there are bodies. Bodies of dark creatures, like the rift hounds that have recently begun to appear in Mondstadt, and bodies of people. Women, children, some crushed by the homes that once housed them, others mauled, sometimes beyond recognition.

It’s a familiar sight.

Once, it was a scene that frequently occupied his sleeping moments. His father--the first to leave him--had explained it as a generational memory, so that the last of their nation “would never forget how they fell.”

The elder Alberich had comforted his son, empathized. He too often saw Khaenri’ah fall. Such was their lot, he said.

Of course, then Kaeya was left behind and learned to suffer in silence. Granted, as a pre-teen, the dreams had a softer, blurry quality. Shelter for the innocent, he figures now.

Then he met Albedo, who had found a way to drive the dreams away.

Yet, now, he finds himself amidst his ancestor’s homeland, the memory now crystal clear.

Far in the distance he hears a child crying for her mother. Even further away, there are still sounds of combat. The soldiers of the nation do their duty, unwavering. Not unlike a certain red-head.

Yet, for all that he sees and all that he hears, he is a phantom in the world. Not long after appearing in this memory, he had tried to help a young woman who was bleeding on the street. She did not see him. She did not hear him. She was but a memory, one he was forced to see die alone.

Kaeya moves further into the center of the city, towards a golden palace and black tower that stands beside it.

Before he can reach it though, a sound like a hundred peals of thunder and the ringing of a gong, overlaid with the mournful melody of a lyre--a ringing requiem of power. 

Six--no seven--figure float above the city. One is a man, tall and stern. Another is a fair lady wreathed in violet lightning. And a third is a familiar face from his life in Mondstadt. Venti the Bard. Or perhaps he should say, Barbatos.

Kaeya pauses in the middle of the road and watches the divine figures. He watches as they pronounce judgment and shatter the city. As the city breaks and a nation cries out, backed by the pained song of the archon’s power, Kaeya is thrown back into his body.

Kaeya wakes and reaches for his vision.

He has to get out. Out, out, out. Away from Mondstadt City, away from the confinements of his room. 

He needs air. The wind. Somewhere else. Somewhere that could never be mistaken for the underground nation without a god.

Diluc stands underneath the great boughs of Vennessa’s Tree, taking a brief break from his patrol.

Despite the rumors of abyss mages in the area, he’s seen nothing so far. Not that that’s a bad thing, but vigilance never hurts.

At least under Vennessa’s tree, a place that is realistically holier than the Cathedral, there is safety. Safety and peace.

Or so he thought. A few minutes into his break a flash of white under the waning moon catches his eye.

Diluc takes a few steps towards the figure, squinting to make out more detail.

When he identifies the person his brows furrow. There’s no mistaking the tanned skin and dark hair or the scar crossing the man’s right eye.

Kaeya, of all people, is out in the middle of the night, shirtless and shoeless. If anything, it looks like he jumped out of bed, grabbed his vision and went for a run. Odd, because when Kaeya left the Angel’s Share earlier, he was most definitely inebriated.

It doesn’t take long for Kaeya to come close enough for Diluc to make out his expression. It’s one he’s never seen on the Cavalry Captain, not even in those painful days after his father’s death. The panic that has his breath coming in heaving gasps is contrasted by an eerie emptiness.

“Kaeya?” Diluc calls out softly.

Kaeya gives no sign of having heard him. Instead he trips on a rock, landing on his hands and knees. 

When he doesn’t get up, Diluc goes to kneel next to him. A glance at Kaeya’s feet reveals bloody soles. 

“Kaeya. Look at me.”

Once again Kaeya doesn’t register his voice.

“Kae.” Diluc’s voice is sharper, this time as his heart clenches in his chest.

He reaches out to touch Kaeya’s shoulder, only to be knocked backwards when his little brother latches on to him.

Diluc freezes. What do I do? Kaeya doesn't know it’s me. He can’t. He’s not in his right mind. What the hell happened to him? How do I help? Wait… why do I want to help? Archon’s wh--

The scarlet-haired man shakes his head and looks down at the man wrapping his arms around his waist, only to find Kaeya crying.

Archons what a mess.

Diluc gathers Kaeya into his arms and carries him to the tree, where he arranges them comfortably.

Kaeya continues to sob silently into his chest, limbs shaking with suppressed  emotion.

“Kae, I know you don’t like me all that much--and I really don’t like you--but you don’t have to hide from me. Let it out.”

Diluc’s assurances are all Kaeya needs to break. He can’t help but be glad that they’re at Windrise in the middle of the night, where no one can see the weakness in their Cavalry Captain.

After a while Kaeya’s tears stop and a semblance of self returns to his eyes, though none of the edge or the sass that is typical of him. Rather, it’s grief and horror that settles on his face.

“Kae, what happened?” Diluc asks when he’s more certain that he’ll be answered.

Of course, he isn’t.

Kaeya just pulls away and wraps his arms around his knees.

“Kaeya, you’re out here. I’m out here. Talk to me.”

“Why? You hate me.”

“I don’t hate you. You’re a liar, but I don’t hate you. As much as I don’t like saying so sometimes, we’re still brothers. I’m trying to act like it for once, so let me damn it.

“I---” Kaeya pauses, giving Diluc a bewildered look. “I haven’t had Albedo make a new dose of the medication I use to prevent dreams. I tried to drink enough to prevent them but---”

“It didn’t work.”

“No.”

“Will you tell me about it? Sometimes, when I dream about Father’s death, talking to Adelinde helps.”

Kaeya’s eyes widen. Whether at the admission or the offer, Diluc isn’t quite certain.

“The remnants of Khaenri’ah are cursed to dream about the fall of the nation. I had them a lot when I was a kid. Not anymore, since I started taking Albedo’s concoction. But I ran out and the nightmare is clearer than ever. It was horrible, D. Watching the city be destroyed by monsters, hearing kids cry, watching the archons destroy it.”

Kaeya’s breath comes in short, shallow pants. Diluc reaches over to rub gentle circles into his brother’s back.

“Kae, breathe. It’s ok. You’re here, with me, not there. It’s just a nightmare. Not your memory. You’re Kaeya Alberich,” he tells Kaeya, using a similar litany to the one he’s used on his worst nights, when he comes perilously close to losing himself. “Spy, but also a Knight of Favonius and adopted son of Crepus Ragnvindr. You belong to Mondstadt as much as Khaenri’ah.”

“I’m Kaeya Alberich,” the younger man repeats. “Spy and Knight of Favonius. Crepus’s son. From Mondstadt and Khaenri’ah.”

The words seem to ground him, bringing him into the here and now.

“Better?”

“A little. Except now my feet hurt.”

“I wonder why? I’m taking you back to the Winery.”

Kaeya frowns. “Why?”

“Your feet are a mess. I want to go home. And I don’t think you want to explain to Jean why you can’t walk tomorrow. If you’re at the Winery, I can claim that you came over last night to raid my basement.”

“I don’t think she’d believe it.”

“Maybe, maybe not.”

Tell him the truth, a little voice in Diluc’s heart whispers. He’s family. He doesn’t deserve a bunch of excuses.

Fine. I’ll tell him.

“And I want to be there if you have any more nightmares. I think you’d do the same for me.”

“Heh. Probably. Sometimes I wonder why.”

“You know, I’ve been asking myself the same thing.”

Diluc stows his claymore under the tree--to be retrieved when he doesn’t have a 6 foot sibling to carry--picks Kaeya up onto his back.

“Hey D--” Kaeya says, voice soft and sleepy.

“Hmmm?”

“Thank you.”

A soft smile tugs at Diluc’s lips. “Anytime, little brother.”

#I sooo adore ragbros reconciliation #and this is probably one of my best #kaeya alberich #diluc ragnvindr #ragbro reconciliation agenda #kaeya angst #nightmares #hurt/comfort #genshin impact #genshin angst #teyvat talk

[piratefishmama]

14!

Writing Prompts | No longer accepting new prompts

“Excuse me?” Steve, who’d been quietly minding his own business in the corner with his frankly pathetic little lunch, was absolutely certain he’d misheard the boy.

“I said, I know you’re the president of the Anti-Social Club, but why don’t you join me?” Nope, definitely didn’t mishear him.

“I’m not the president of the antisocial club, what the hell dude?”

“Could’a fooled me, man! All on your lonesome over here… I know camp ain’t exactly the best place in the world if all your friends are off on… I dunno, ski trips in the Alps or some shit while you’re stuck here, but… you don’t have to be on your own, y’know?” Steve regarded the other boy with narrowed eyes.

He knew this boy.

Year above him at Hawkins Middle, hadn’t been there for very long, maybe a year or so, the buzzcut he’d had that first year was starting to grow out into little dark curls. Still looked like he could do with a proper meal though. Munford? No. Monsoon? Pfft what? That’d be too cool a name, Minsun? Nooo… Munson!! “I don’t need your pity, Munson, m’fine…” Munson raised his brows in surprise, not at the idea that he was fine, probably that he knew his last name. “So what if my friends aren’t here, I’m still fine…” His parents were spending the first few weeks of the school summer holidays in California, back-to-back business meetings for some big merger his fathers firm was going through, his mother working alongside his father as one of the key lawyers on the project. “M’not anti-social”

No holiday for Steve, at least not yet. He’d have a few weeks of summer camp at some random little dump in the middle of the woods, and then they’d be back to pick him up for a real holiday, he was sure they’d be back. He only had to suffer another couple of weeks on his own. No big deal.

“Uh-huh… see, I’d believe you, I really would, cause normally you’re surrounded by your little hoard of groupies, but… you’ve been here for like, a week now? And not one friend made! Even Robin tried to talk to you, you blew her off! That was super rude, man, she’s great.” Bit young, bit hyperactive, but she kicked ass on the trumpet.

“…Who’s Robin?”

“Sweet cheesus on toast, okay. Uh… see that girl over there, long brown-ish hair? Band-aid on her knee? That’s Robin. She tried to ask you what your favourite bug was the other day, and you just ignored her.”

He honestly hadn’t heard her, his hearing had never been the best but… what kind of question was that? “Who has a favourite bug?”

“Robin does, it’s a ladybeetle.” Robin had once followed up with the seemingly automatic follow-on comment ‘cause ladies are great’ before realising she’d said too much and froze. She’d only relaxed when nobody had questioned it. Only relaxed when Eddie had swiftly moved the conversation on to what everyone’s favourite leaf shape was.

His was a maple leaf. Cause how did leaves just do shapes like that? Most were rounded with only one main ‘point’, and then you have a big ol maple leaf just HI THERE I LOOK LIKE I BELONG ON A DRUID’S STAFF AND NOWHERE ELSE. Like it could be the base of a coat of arms for a great forest dwelling elven family, or the shape of a forest dragons footprint.

That inevitably went on to the kids designing cool forest dragons and everything was right with the world.

“I think you mean ladybug.”

“Do I?” Munson smiled at him, as if he knew something Steve didn’t, it irritated him a little, how easily this kid seemed to talk down to him. Nobody talked down to him besides the adults, and they were adults so… he had to take that.

“Shut up, go away. I don’t care about dumb bugs” The smile dropped, replaced with something that else that Steve didn’t think he liked, a flash of sadness, no… no, that expression didn’t look right on Munson’s face and Steve didn’t know why.

The dimpled smile suited him more.

“Okay well… if you do feel like abdicating your position of president of the antisocial club, then… y’know… we’re all over there, plotting out our attack on the end of camp scavenger hunt. You’d be welcome to join us.” Scavenger hunt? Steve figured his face probably gave away some kind of interest, because Munson lingered just a little longer, instead of retreating back to his little gaggle of nerds “You… you’ve never been here before, so uhm… I suppose you probably wouldn’t know, every year, at the end of summer camp, the counsellors put on this massive scavenger hunt, it spans the whole camp grounds and a little ways into the forest too, but the prize is different every year, and you get a cool trophy if your team wins… you could be on our team, if you wanted?”

“…I won’t be here for long enough, parents are picking me up before the end of camp.” Why did that sound fun though? Why did his voice sound disappointed? He wanted out of that stupid camp! Everything was dirty, and smelly, and he didn’t know anyone, it was boring but the one cool thing he’d heard about, he wouldn’t even be there to join.

“Oh… well… you could still help us plan right? We can do a run of the areas, find any potential hiding spots, it could be fun! Way more fun than hiding out here picking at grass!”

He could. He could have, could have gotten up from his spot and joined the little gaggle of nerds for their nerd games, he’d have been the weird one in a group for once, but… they probably wouldn’t have held it against him, he could have played with them but… what was the point?

“No, I’m okay. I’ll pass.” Munson hesitated again, chewing his bottom lip in thought, before nodding and taking a step backwards.

“Okay, well… if you change your mind, man… being president of one is kinda like a president of none, an you could be my co-president in Team ‘Scoob’ which… y’know… it’s a huge honour! But if you’re sure…” Scoob? Probably Scooby Doo, Steve’s brain supplied.

“…Co-president?”

“Yepperoo, you’re welcome to coooomeee~ You can be the Fred to my Daphne!” Steve raised a brow in curiosity “y’know, cause… I’m growing my hair out and you’re—y’know” Eddie motioned to all of him, he didn’t know.

But it made him feel a little warm to think about it.

He really could go with him… Munson wasn’t just giving up on him, wasn’t just letting him be by himself, was giving him an opportunity to make friends and well… even if he wasn’t going to be there until the end… he could do with some friends to make the time pass quicker. “…Ugh, fine. But if it’s boring then I’m ditching you! Help me up.”

“Haha! Fine, fine, Mr President! Nothing but fun times to be had!! C’mon I’ll introduce you to everyone! My names Eddie by the way, not Munson.” Eddies hand was warm as it wrapped around his, his pull gentle but enough to get Steve onto his feet.

“Steve… not president.”

‘Eddie’ snorted a laugh, following with “I know Stevie” Stevie… he liked Stevie “you’re like, famous in school” as he walked him back to the group. Not having let go of his hand.

So at least when his parents sent word two weeks later that actually, they’d be staying in California due to some mix-up with the merger that was taking far longer than anticipated, at least when he’d been told he’d be staying for the entirety of camp, he had… friends.

He had people.

He had Robin, who rambled about bugs, and stars and—and anything really, the girl honestly couldn’t stop herself from rambling sometimes, it was cute, even if a little annoying sometimes.

He had Eddie who hugged him when he’d caught him silently shedding tears in the camp cabin because he’d known they wouldn’t be there he just hadn’t wanted to admit it to himself, then promptly revealed a ferret called Samwise that he’d been hiding god only knows where for a whole three weeks.

Eddie, who didn’t give up on befriending him, who held his hand more often than not, who partnered with him on little arts and crafts group projects and silly team exercises, who made him feel all weird inside in a way Steve didn’t understand but he liked enough to feel excitement over what it could be. He'd always have the little kiss on the cheek Eddie had nervously given him behind their cabin the night before their last day after mumbling a soft little prayer to some unknown god called 'Ozzy' that he was reading the signs right. He was.

Steve would always have that summer and everything that came with it.

And, of course, he'd always have shared custody of their little winners trophy, because in what universe could anyone beat Team Scoob in a scavenger hunt?

#PirateWrites #Dont ask me what universe this is set in #i just wanted to write them at camp #shhh #Steddie

[precious-little-scoundrel]

What is Elvis like as a father in law? I pretty much see him treating Donna and any of the other women who join the family similar to how he talked to fans at times. Everyone is darlin ', sweetheart, honey hahaha. Wanting to take everyone under his wing and spoil em. Especially Donna because she basically saves two of his kids.

This man -you’ve nailed it.

He loves people. We’ve established this. He adores his kids. Now, people who love his kids? Oh that’s just a beautiful upper tier of love from him. He loves them, he squirrels them away in rooms just one on one to grill them about their interest in a off-putting but lovingly intense way. He inducts them into the family with all the pomp and circumstance of a born performer while also taking care to give them private and subtle assurances of his welcome.

Of course there was Ella‘s fella Johnny, and the time Elvis put his dumb blonde head through the penthouse drywall. But that was no aspersion against Johnny’s good character, his valiant service to the nation as a soldier in ‘Nam or any real man-to-man dislike. It was entirely to do with a red blooded man marrying his 18-year-old baby. Elvis had sworn as a young father he’d kill anyone who came for Ella: Johnny can be glad he only has a permanent goose-egg back there from the incident. A few months of good intentions and proof that Ella is happy with her choice and all can be forgiven. Besides, Elaine seems charmed by Johnny and Elvis hates being anything but on the same page as Tink. 

Now Jack’s lady, she is a whole Lotta woman, so much Woman that some idiots might call her masculine, but that’s just her broad shoulders and brusque attitude leading you astray. Live and let live, Elvis believes, and he can sympathize with Jack. He knows a thing or two about the positive affects of your lady not letting you get away with shit. Or conversely only allowing you to in her company or under her supervision. It only takes Elvis a few months to get a read on Vic and stop trying to spoil her with jewels or perfume, instead he buys her cigars in the vain hope that she’ll stop swiping his. 

And then of course there is Danny and his precious Bee, raised most of her summers at Graceland and practically a Presley child until Shiloh had to play matchmaker and Danny had to make it weird and marry her. Oh well, at least they’re compatible and Elvis already approves.

And there’s Rosalee and her Sam Harrison, who Elvis likes well enough as he’s the son of an army buddy, even if the fool boy married someone else in the interim

and Daisy’s bloke ain’t half bad for being British, being known as Rosalee‘s kind professor, he’s got brownie points in the Presley family before Daisy attached herself to him, he’s a calming influence on that wild child and the rest of them, someone for Elvis to smoke with and talk about spiritual things.

And then there’s Donna. Now, Elvis does not have favorites, alright? He really doesn’t, Donna’s not his favorite. Don Don can’t be, as she is not a favorite, she is a fairy, a precious angel sent from above to patch up his babies and bring joy to their household. Whenever sweet Don Don is not being clutched by Jesse or gossiping with Jack or posing for Marie, her tiny self is tucked under Elvis’ armpit while he shows her his latest hyper fixation. She’s written many a caption for a polaroid after he complained of his bad handwriting and morosely wished upon a star within her earshot for some young helper to come along and aid him. Donna didn’t expect Elvis Presley to be so endearingly human -but he is, and it almost makes her forgive that horrid nickname.

…and then take into account the grand-babies that come from these…

#sarge asks #sarge: 2nd gen #elvis fanfiction #elvis presley #elvis fanfic #elvis imagine

[yourtypagirl1]

Christian As A Girl Dad (Headcanon)

Christian Yu/DPR IAN [Fluff]

The moment that Christian becomes a father, his whole world would change. He would put his daughter before and above, anything and everyone else. She would be an important part of his life, just like his mother and his first daughter, Lori.

Christian has a lot of symbolic and meaningful tattoos. There’s no doubt that he would get a tattoo to commemorate the birth of his daughter.

He would melt into a puddle of mush for his daughter. His daughter would be, “the apple of his eye,” “his whole world,” “his little princess,” and Christian would make sure she knew that.

Christian is a very affectionate person, and he would not fail to constantly tell his daughter, “I love you” or “Appa, loves you.” He would show his love with many hugs, kisses on the cheek, and kisses on the forehead.

Christian would want to share with his daughter, some of the things that shaped his childhood and left a good impression on him as a kid. For example, Christian has fond memories of going to the circus as a kid. He would want to take his daughter to the circus too, and buy her popcorn and cotton candy. He would introduce to his daughter, some of the movies he grew up watching like, “Wizard of Oz” and “Dumbo.” And without a doubt, he would take his daughter to see “Cats,” which was the very first musical he saw as a kid.

Christian would be the kind of father who makes a snack for himself and his daughter, right before bedtime. Maybe a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, split down the middle, one half for himself and the other half for his daughter. Served with a glass of milk.

He would be the kind of father who would allow his daughter to paint his nails, and put make up on his face. And he would dress up with her for a make-believe tea party, and sit at the table with all her stuffed animal friends.

His parenting style wouldn’t be too strict, but it also wouldn’t be too lenient either. He would be in the middle. He would scold her when he needs to and wouldn’t overly spoil her.

He would be the type of parent who of course, wants to make sure his child is getting all the nutrients she needs to grow healthy and strong. He would make sure she is eating plenty of vegetables and fruits. And although, he would mostly want her to eat proper meals, he would allow her to have things like pizza and chocolates every once in a while. He isn’t the type of parent to completely eliminate this from her life. Besides, Christian likes to eat pizza too, every once in a while.

Christian would be sure to read his daughter a bedtime story every night, or possibly tell her a story if she asks for one. Maybe even sing her a song on occasion. After putting her to sleep, he’d make sure her night light is turned on, and leave the door to her room ajar, in case she needs him in the middle of the night to scare away the monsters.

Because of Christian’s love for music, it is certain that his daughter would be raised with an extensive knowledge of it. He might even teach his daughter to play a few instruments if it really piques her interest.

In regards to language, Christian would teach his daughter to speak both English and Korean from an early age. He would want his daughter to be able to speak both languages interchangeably, with much more ease than himself.

Aside from teaching his daughter the Korean language, he would also want her to know more about their Korean culture.

Having lived in Australia throughout his childhood and adolescence, and then in Korea throughout his twenties, he would want to take his daughter to visit both countries.

Christian seems to value women who have qualities such as, independence and strength. He would raise his daughter to be this way. He wouldn’t want his daughter to be completely dependent on him or any other man for that matter. There are times when it would be ok to be a bit vulnerable. But there are times when he would have to show some tough love, depending on the situation.

Christian would be the kind of parent to constantly give his daughter advice, give her words of encouragement, teach her valuable life lessons, and most importantly, he would teach her self-love.

Christian would be the type of father who gets a bit teary-eyed witnessing the biggest moments in his daughter’s life. From the day of her birth, to the day of her graduation, the day she goes off to college, and the day she gets married.

This was an anonymous request I received a couple of weeks ago. I don't typically take requests, however I really loved this idea and had to write it. Hope you enjoyed the read.

#christian yu #dpr ian #yu barom #dpr christian #dream perfect regime #barom yu #headcanon #fluff #request #girl dad

[sunshinecherryblossom]

Illogical answer to justify Naruto's ending 💀💀😑😑🙄

And same old same old. Sakura always loved Sasuke, Hinata always loved Naruto... oh really?

You know what these arguments are, besides "lazy?" Sexist. On both the guys and gals. the women are defined by who their first loves are and NOTHING ELSE.! They must get with their first loves otherwise their involvement in the plot is pointless. They have no goals in life nor purpose in the story than to "walk down the isle to become Mrs. Uzumaki/Mrs. Uchiha". The men's feelings don't count or matter. Naruto always loved Sakura but I guess that doesn't matter because he must notice the shy girl that always held a torch for him even though she did NOTHING to ease his loneliness and being hated by the village. Sasuke did not love Sakura until she wore him down to give her a baby. CHAPTER 693 CONFIRMS THIS. Now, anyone until today, for some weird reason, here sees Sasuke's lines in that chapter as "I love her so I must keep her out of my life, I don't deserve her?" I guess pro-enders see it that way. What I saw was "Why does she even love me? She is deluding herself with some fairy tale." But ok... just make a sense and i'm a salty fan

Ok, let's go:

The the whole "oh Naruto and Sakura are just friends argument. Again, "lazy". And so what if they are friends? That is WAY MORE that either of them can even claim to be with their TRUE LOVES.  Well, let's see: Naruto ignores Hinata and never spends time with her after "knocking her up", so their relationship was like it has always been which is her only being in the back of his mind until it calls to his attention that she exists. Sasuke left Sakura to fend for herself and his daughter for over a decade and never bothered to visit or check up on them. Again this relationship is exactly how it how it was before the ending and when he last left to go with Orochimaru, him giving for this woman throwing herself at his feet. These are seriously the romances that these pro-ending fans were always imagining? The spouses just tolerate and acknowledge their marriages because there are bound by it? No romance anymore, no intimate communication at all, and the fathers not even bothering to bond with their kids unless the plot "demands it"?. Ok

I seriously would love to ask these defenders of this just friends argument "okay so you always had only platonic feelings for your opposite sex friends? You were never attracted to any of them and only see them as a brother or sister? So why are some of you SOOO INFURIATED by this  thing called "friend zoning" that you project on to these fictional characters? Friend zoning was never even a thing then, because you can never be attracted to a friend nor will EVER move past friendship. So Sasuke sees Sakura as a friend so he was never attracted to her, right? And Naruto sees Hinata as a friend and was never attracted to her either, yes? Neither guy indicates that they were love struck with their respective ladies early on did they, so are they friends or are they strangers? Ultimately, either stop using "just friends" as an excuse for when it conveniences you or acknowledge that "just friends" works "both ways", so YOUR PREFERENCE OF SHIPPING is also a fallacy. Naruto and Sakura may be friends but HEY do you see Hinata supporting Naruto's dream? Does she ever encourage Naruto's Dream of becoming Hokage or offer her support of Bringing Sasuke back or does she just tell herself what a hunky man-candy Naruto is because of his showing inner strength and determination that she vicariously wants due to her OWN LACK OF A SPINE? Does Hinata ever encourage Naruto when he is down or depressed? Does she show to to improve herself in any way because Naruto inspires her and makes her self stronger as a person (like typical love interests do in this scenario)? Did Sasuke ever become a pillar of emotional support for Sakura? does he ever consider her happiness and puts it above his own? Sure he protected her in the forest of death but so did Rock Lee and Naruto also saved her from being killed here and there so that means nothing.

So in short, do these canon couples have any EMOTIONAL CONNECTION to each other? I don't see it. Do you? Naruto and Sakura showed that plenty of times during the manga's run but never with the two that they are supposed to be "in love with". and it is always Emotional connection that is the foundation of a romantic relationship. Even if you are  just physically attracted to someone and it works out, if there is no emotional connection the relationship is pointless. And Again I see none of that with the so called Planned form the beginning NaruHina and definitely not with SasukSaku. NaruSaku on the other hand has evidence spread across the entire run of the series

#narusaku #naruto uzumaki #sakura haruno #naruto x sakura #pro narusaku #anti naruto ending #anti ss #anti nh #anti sasusaku fandom #anti naruhina fandom #antinaruhina #anti naruto fandom #anti sasusaku

[miracles-and-butterflies]

You need to tell me who bruno's child is PLEASEE 🙇‍♀️

I did in the last instalment.

But, let’s continue!

~~~~~~

“Dolores Victoria Estrada Madrigal! You had me worried half to death! Where on earth have you been!? Your father said you were together and he turned around for one minute and you were gone! With no explanation! Don’t think that because you are an adult you are above such things, young lady!”

Dolores winced against the tight hug she’d been pulled into by her parents.

Her father was too busy crying tears of relief and pressing kisses to her head to get his own words out, but she could assume he felt similar to her mother.

Tía Julieta rushed over at the commotion. “What is it? What’s wrong? Is someone hurt?”

Tío Agustín wasn’t far behind her, covered in bee stings. Panting and out of breath. “Oh, you found her? That’s great.”

“Yay! Dolores is back!” Antonio yelled from somewhere. He pushed his way out of Camilo’s arms and scrambled to the floor, running over and gripping tightly onto her legs.

Camilo trailed along too. He attempted going the hug but Dolores pushed him away.

“No. I don’t want your grubby hands on me,” she waved him off.

He laughed. “It’s nice to have you back, hermana.”

“I swear they were all mad at her like two minutes ago.” Isabela complained from where she was stood beside Luisa.

“It’s been hours since then, Bela.”

“Still. You’d think they’d tell her off.”

“Why are we getting so distracted by this? Mirabel’s still missing…”

“It is quite alright, Pepa. She was with me the entire time.” Abuela assured, setting a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “And someone else—”

There was fire in her eyes.

“Who!?” Pepa snarled. “Because I will kill whoever it was, so help me!”

The sound of hooves along the path caught everyone’s attention. Around the edge of Casita’s remains appeared a frazzled looking man in dusted green, awkwardly leading a horse by the reins.

Julieta gasped behind her hand.

Pepa’s jaw dropped.

The younger sister pulled away from the group and practically charged straight into Bruno, sending them both to the ground in a hug.

The older quickly followed, helping the pair back onto their feet and embracing them properly.

The matriarch’s heart melted at the sight.

“Who’s this ugly weirdo?”

And then the moment was ruined by Camilo’s question, which was quickly followed by the rest of the grandkids’ confusion.

“Can I have the horse? Please? Can I, Papí?”

“Why has he come back right now of all times? No - that’s it. I’m done. Nothing can surprise me now.”

“Um, has everyone just forgotten that Mirabel is missing?”

Félix cleared his throat, trying to hold back some laughter at Antonio. “Mijos, this is your Tío Bruno.”

Bruno offered the kids a wave as he approached, now free from the hug, though Pepa’s arm was still flung over his shoulder and Julieta remained equally close by.

“Hola, Tío Bruno!” Waved Antonio. “I really like your horse. Can I ride it?”

“It’s not actually mine… I kinda stole it.”

“Did you bring presents?” Camilo demanded, arms crossed. “Uncles should always bring presents.”

Isabela nodded. “I second that actually.”

“Am I speaking another language here?” Luisa pondered out loud.

“No, I, uh… I didn’t bring presents.” Bruno chuckled. “I didn’t know I was staying until Dolores convinced me otherwise.”

“Well, she is my daughter. Cleverness is a trait she gets from me.” Pepa insisted, fondly.

Isabela cleared her throat, pushing in front of Luisa. “I have a question. Now that you’re back and Dolores has reappeared, are we finally going to know about the whole parent thing?”

Dolores squeaked.

Bruno shared a look with Alma and his sisters.

“…Okay, kids. Let’s go sit down for this.”

#encanto #encanto papa bruno au #ask me anything #my writing #dolores madrigal #bruno madrigal #antonio madrigal #isabela madrigal #camilo madrigal #luisa madrigal #mirabel madrigal #pepa madrigal #julieta madrigal #alma madrigal #félix madrigal #agustín madrigal