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fangswbenefits · 1 year

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Intimacy

𓂅 𓄹 Summary: Lack of intimacy after childbirth can weigh a relationship down. Thankfully, Miguel always finds new ways to keep the spark alive.

𓂅 𓄹 Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader

18+. Lactation kink. Fangs. Implied breeding kink. A comprehensive study on intimacy with Miguel O’Hara.

“She’s finally sound asleep.”

Holding back a yawn as you entered the living room, you were promptly met with a very heavy-eyed Miguel O’Hara on the couch, enjoying the comforts of home.

“Thank you,” he said truthfully, straightening up lightly in his seat. “Come here.”

You paced towards him, lazily settling on his lap, both legs framing his as two big and warm hands sprawled across your back, pulling you into an embrace.

Instinctively, your eyes fluttered shut once cheek came to rest on his shoulder, taking in his body warmth and enjoying the steady heartbeat that drummed against your chest.

You figured you might just fall asleep and don’t fight against it. Taking care of a baby had been taking a toll on you both as of late, but it was to be expected.

Still, you missed moments like this. No talking, just feeling right at home in a silent embrace.

Miguel planted a few kisses to the back of your neck, but they were void of any sexual bearing. You knew what he meant with those. Absolute gratitude and devotion.

“Next time, I’ll put her to sleep,” he muttered under his breath.

“Hmm.”

His hands glided along your back, fingertips applying just enough pressure to raise goosebumps across your skin.

“I mean it.”

“You’re also tired,” you drawled out with a yawn, body slumping fully into him. “Work and all that…”

Another tender kiss. “But I have responsibilities here, too.”

“Why are you so stubborn?”

“You taught me how.”

Point taken.

Silent seconds ticked by and you shifted on his lap into a more comfortable position, ready to enter the valley of dreams.

“I miss you,” he said all of a sudden.

His hands settled on your arms to straighten you, a pair of red eyes encasing yours.

“I miss us.”

Miguel wasn’t a man to deliver empty words as filler, so you knew that he genuinely meant it, which had your heart to skip a beat.

His digital suit began to fragment and reced, exposing the skin underneath. Your placed your hands on his chest, feeling the hard muscles flex under your touch.

He was so handsome. Almost unfairly so.

“Let me kiss you,” he whispered.

You nodded, bringing your lips to meet his in a lazy kiss as you dragged your fingers along his hair, earning a moan of approval.

It was a slow and steady kiss. You were in no hurry and wanted to make the most of this rare opportunity.

One of his hands slid to grope your breast and you felt him groan against you lips, breaking contact.

His half-hooded eyes were now on your chest, and as you followed his line of sight, you realised what had caught his attention.

Your shirt was getting soaked with milk.

Damn.

Two round damp spots spread across the fabric that covered each nipple, and you felt instant embarrassment take over. “Sorry… wanted to pump before putting her to bed, but she—”

“Don’t ever apologise for this,” he silenced you at once.

You tried to slide off the couch to fix yourself, but he kept you in place with both hands gripping your waist, pushing you down on him.

“Stay.”

Oh?

“I’ll help.”

Oh.

“Miguel…”

Masterful fingers worked their way down the buttons of your nightgown to reveal your heaving breasts.

You knew that look on his face.

Hunger.

“So full,” he said more to himself, cupping both of them softly.

A few droplets coated both nipples and he brushed the pad of his thumbs along the sensitive skin, earning a jerk from you.

The tingling between your legs emerged in full force from just the sight of him staring at you like he could devour you whole.

He craned his neck just enough to capture one nipple with his lips before latching hungrily.

The overwhelming sensation was enough to have you clinging to his broad shoulders for support. You squeezed your eyes shut and gasped once you felt him sucking gently.

It didn’t take long for you to feel the growing pressure between your legs from his hardening cock.

“Be gentle,” you moaned, caressing his cheek that would rhythmically hollow as he downed your milk.

“Hmmm.”

Then your hand came to his neck and you gently gripped it, feeling his Adam’s apple bob with each gulp.

You stared adoringly at him, slowly grinding into his covered cock. A raw groan reverberated through his throat, and you could tear your eyes away from the sight of the warm liquid pooling in the corner of his mouth.

The latch was just perfect and felt too good.

You brought your hand to caress his face once more, brushing a few strands of his hair away.

“You’re so good…” you moaned.

His cock twitched at your praise, and you could feel the wetness damping his own underwear. Now he was the one leaking for you, his body full on auto-pilot as precum readied him for more.

A couple of droplets began to run down his chin, dripping and drenching his underwear.

“No fangs…”

You’d felt them grazing your skin lightly, but you couldn’t really blame Miguel. His fangs would emerge from either extreme anger or blinding pleasure. A roll from your hips with added pressure was enough to tear his lips from your nipple, head falling back and mouth parting with a raw moan.

He bared both sets of fangs as both hands gripped your waist. Your own mouth dropped open as haziness filled your vision, absolutely revelling in seeing your own milk dripping from his lips and down his muscular neck.

“Fuck,” he grunted, eyes squeezed shut.

You hurried to collect some of the beads of milk from his skin, but Miguel intercepted you midway, capturing you into a searing kiss. His tongue hurriedly slipped past your lips and you tasted sweetness.

Parting yourself from him, you focused on the grind of your hips and Miguel snapped open his crimson eyes, lust dilating his pupils.

“I’m not… I’m not…” he mumbled incoherently, too lost in his pleasure. “I’m not… lasting…”

You leaned in to whisper in his ear, “I’m surprised you lasted this long,” you whispered seductively, pressing a quick kiss to the pulse point on his neck. “So much stamina…”

Miguel was a sucker for praise and it was the easiest and fasted way to get him to crumble.

Your clit rubbed against his covered cock in a steady rhythm as more droplets of milk kept dripping from your nipples. Your eyes roamed along his chest that was glistening as beads of white liquid streamed down.

Suddenly, Miguel pulled you into him, your breasts now squeezed in between you two, more liquid pouring out.

He titled your head and immediately latched his lips against your neck, fangs nearly puncturing the flushed skin.

“You ride me so good,” he murmured hungrily against you.

A moan tangled in your throat and your hips surged to encourage his, ruthlessly intensifying the pleasure. Miguel picked up the speed again and you felt each burst of bliss at every thrust and desperate to feel the next.

Your orgasm was upon you faster than you had expected, the sense of urgency in his thrusts pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Miguel… Miguel…” you moaned, your panties completely drenched.

“Inside… please…”

Desperate fingers clawed at your underwear, sliding it to the side as the tip of his cock nudged at your entrance. He slid inside effortlessly, bottoming up in an instant, and after a moment he gave a harsh cry and shoved himself so deeply and tightly against you that you gasped, clenching hard around him.

Miguel buried his face in the crook of your neck in a failed attempt to muffle his groans.

He kept grinding and rocking against you with stifled grunts, spurting hotly inside.

Only the sounds of your harsh breathing followed, and you sank against him weakly as if drained of all energy.

A familiar waile filled the room, making you wince.

“Shit… were we too loud?” you asked, trying to ease your breathing.

Miguel was still buried deep inside you, beads of sweat rolling down his face. “I’ll go check on her.”

You could tell he reluctantly slid out, easing you on your back. The sudden emptiness made you clench involuntarily, and you felt some of his warm cum spilling

“Keep it in,” he said, pressing your legs together as he planted a kiss to your forehead.

Masterlist

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara x you #miguel ohara x reader #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel x reader #atsv miguel #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara x fem!reader #miguel o’hara imagine #atsv miguel

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morallyinept · 25 days

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Home - A Joel Miller One Shot

Summary: Joel returns home to you.

Pairing: Post Outbreak Joel Miller x F!Reader (No name or physical description of reader, except that reader has hair and is prone to freckling in the sun. These are very small details briefly mentioned.)

Word Count: 1.6k

Scoville Smut Rating: None, it's fluff. You're safe.

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

Warnings/Triggers: Nothing too heavy. Some angst and longing.

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ.☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned.

I write for me, and I share with you. If this story isn't to your taste, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Author’s Note: I've had some terrible writer's block recently and the new season 2 Joel reveal has inspired me this evening. Thanks, Joel! 🥰

MAIN MASTERLIST | JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST

Enjoy! 🖤

The swing hangs at one end of the rickety porch, a timeless piece that has seen many seasons and heard many secrets in your time here in the Jackson commune.

Crafted from sturdy oak, it’s varnished and smooth in places when you run your fingers over the armrests that curve gracefully at each end.

You remember his own fingers gliding over the wood as he sanded it, splintered and calloused, and yet strangely soft in the middle of his large palms when you’d rubbed cooling aloe salve into them after, whilst he'd planted a line of tantalising kisses on your shoulder and remarked on how freckled you’d gotten in the sun that afternoon.

You don't remember much else after that as his kisses had engulfed you wholly.

The thoughts cause splinters in your stomach lining and you squeeze your eyes shut, willing them not to creep into the jagged fissures of your hollowed bones. But it’s futile. The memories of him are everywhere you look.

Your gaze drifts to the haphazard wooden flower boxes, overflowing with vibrant blooms and herbs.

It was Joel who had planted them, his hands deftly tending to each delicate stem, leaf and petal as if they were his own children.

You can picture him kneeling beside the boxes, soil dusted over his denim clad thighs, his brow furrowed in concentration as he carefully watered each plant.

You think about the bed you climb into each night, noting the void in the space beside you where Joel's warmth and his presence once lingered. You can almost see the imprint of his broad body on the mattress, the indentation where he'd slept night after night with you curled into his body, leg resting over his hip.

You can still feel the heat from him as you'd wake in the night to find him practically draped over you.

The seat on the swing is wide and deep, designed for comfort and for sharing, for cuddling together on warm, balmy nights under the fraying, knitted blanket with wonky stitch lines.

You still hold it up to your nose, inhaling the last ebbs of his scent that haven’t been blown out the fibres fully by the breeze. But it’s fading fast and you’re worried that one day it’ll be gone forever, just like he is.

Strung along the railing and woven through the latticework, tiny lights glimmer around you like a thousand stars brought down to earth on glittery strings. Each delicate bulb emits a soft, warm glow, creating a cascade of golden light that flickers gently with the whispers of the night.

The cushions you’re sitting against, plump and inviting, have seen their share of tears. You’ve clung to them during sleepless nights, seeking the comfort they no longer fully provide. The smaller pillows, in warm tones of orange and gold, have been hugged so close to your chest as if they can somehow bridge the chasm of his absence.

The muted hues on the porch that echo the colours of the forest surrounding your home beyond the fences, mirror your fading hope, each day a little dimmer than the last.

You tell yourself that perhaps tonight will be the night, that he’ll emerge from the shadows like an ethereal spectre back to you, but you know, somewhere in your heart that’s been broken beyond full repair, that it’s wishful thinking. A dream with its shiny ribboned tether drifting so close, yet so far out of your reach.

You’ve often found yourself on the empty porch, night upon night, your heart heavy with the belief that he’ll return. Waiting... always waiting.

They've stopped coming now, stopped checking in on you. Stopped bringing baked goods, like they do when someone passes away. Leaving you to wilt and exist in your own bubble of enduring sadness and melancholy.

They said you should move on, like it's an easy thing to do. And a small part of you thinks that perhaps you should at least try. It's been too long.

You’d heard the rumours, whispers in the commune, of the men and women who never make it back, of the dangers that swallow them whole out there - even the strongest aren’t immune.

Joel, like many in the commune, had volunteered for supply runs, journeys that had become increasingly dangerous. The surrounding areas fraught with peril - raiders, infected, treacherous terrain, and unpredictable weather. Every time someone leaves for a run, there’s no guarantee they'll return.

You knew this. You knew the risk. So did Joel. The supply runs are a lifeline for the community, but they come with a heavy cost. Each departure is shadowed by uncertainty, each return a fleeting relief.

When Joel didn’t come back from his last run, the fear that had always lingered at the edge of your mind about him embarking on them, consumed you whole.

You knew the risks he faced, had heard the stories of those who never made it back from his own weary lips of close calls, and had seen the grief in the eyes of others in the commune who had lost their loved ones.

You were one of them now.

The days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and the silence grew louder. Every creak of the porch, every rustle of leaves heightened your anxiety, making your heart race with the hope that it might be him, only to be crushed by the realisation that it wasn’t.

It never was.

Your nights were spent waiting on the porch swing that Joel built for you both to spend balmy nights in the summer drinking tangy lemonade and being cuddled up in his strong arms.

And he isn’t here doing that with you anymore and you’re not sure if you’ll ever be able to move on, or accept it.

You try to hold onto the minute flicker of hope that remains, but it’s fading fast, leaving you with nothing but the hollow ache of loss and the fear of what the future might hold without him.

Each day without word, each night without his voice, has chipped away at your hope leaving you empty and lost.

Tonight is no different; and when you find yourself dozing into the late night on the swing in a routine you can't seem to break, the cool breeze stirring you awake, you resolve to go to bed and spend another night alone reaching out longingly to his side of the mattress, wondering where he is.

You stand to go inside, shaking off the blanket, and a flicker of movement catches your eye through the shadows and startles you.

You freeze, your breath catching in your throat when you hear your name called softly.

You visibly pinch yourself, the sharp pain registering that you’re not dreaming.

There he is, standing where he used to stand, the same but different. His silhouette is a familiar yet foreign sight, the longer hair and the weary lines on his face telling stories of the time and trials he’s endured out there.

Your heart pounds as a flood of emotions surge through you - disbelief, hope, anger, relief.

Your hands are trembling. Your heart is hammering so loudly now that you can't hear yourself think or even call out his name on a broken chord. Your legs barely support your weight, and for a moment you feel time stop completely, it's drag heavy agaisnt your skin.

Joel stands at the edge of the porch, the soft glow of the fairy lights casting a gentle light on his familiar face. His hair, longer and wilder than when he left, brushes against the top of his shoulders in swept back curls, seeming more grey and dishevelled.

The breeze seems to whisper through it as if sharing foreboding secrets from his time away. He looks different, weathered and sunken in his stature. And you're harshly reminded that it’s been over a year since he’d walked away from this home, from you.

"You're back," you whisper, your voice breaking as tears stream down your cheeks.

He steps tentatively up on the porch, a low groaning creak rumbles out from under his boot.

You resolve crumbles, and you rush to him, throwing your arms around his neck.

He holds you tightly, his own tears mingling with yours.

The pain of the past year, the nights you cried yourself to sleep, the days filled with endless worry, all dissolve in the warmth of his tight embrace, and your heartbeats meld together as one under the gloaming lights around you.

Your fingers grip into the rough material of his jacket, and you inhale deep. He smells earthy, like the fragrance of fresh rain on dry earth. It carries with it the essence of the forest, of pine needles and damp soil, mingling with the crispness of skeletal autumn leaves.

"I thought you were dead," you sob into his shoulder, the words releasing a year's worth of grief and longing.

"I know," he murmurs, his voice choked with guilt. "I never stopped tryin’ to get back to ya."

His words carry the warmth of the Southern sun, the gentle drawl of his accent wrapping around the ruggedness of his tincture giving it a raw, unfiltered quality. It’s a voice that speaks of home and belonging, of wide-open spaces and endless horizons. Of survival and repentance.

It’s a reminder that he’s real, that he’s here, standing before you, alive and well. And yet strangely frail; wounded deeply by the experience of the outside world.

And as you reach out to him, your fingers brushing against his roughened cheek peppered with his greying beard, you know in that moment that Joel is truly home.

“What happened to you, are you okay? Are you hurt? What happened out there?” You fire off clumsily, your voice shaky and breathless until Joel simply looks at you with those molten, sad brown eyes and you finally breathe.

"I'm okay, I ain’t hurt," he replies softly, his voice thick with emotion. His eyes never leave yours.

“I thought I'd lost you,” your voice is nothing more than a croaked whimper. “You’re really here?” You question dreamily, sinking back into his arms.

"M'here."

As you stand together on the porch, bathed in the gentle glow of the fairy lights, you finally feel a sense of peace wash over you.

And almost as if he can sense your bewilderment, your fear and frustration - your relief - Joel runs his hand through your hair, caressing your skull and cradles you closer into his chest. Alleviating your fears and confirming the unwavering truth presented to you, that he is in fact here. He’s home.

"M’home, darlin’."

Joel Miller has come back home to you.

Thank so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed this little story. If you did, I'd really appreciate a re-blog so others can enjoy it too. Thankies! 🖤

MAIN MASTERLIST | JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal characters #joel miller tlou #joel miller fluff #joel miller the last of us #the last of us #jett's writing

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indierpgnewsletter · 3 months

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Playing Rabbits in an RPG from 1976

(This continues our 2024 series, 10 Games From The First 10 Years. First published in the Indie RPG Newsletter)

It is genuinely surprising to me that in 1976, within two years of D&D coming out, someone published a game about being rabbits. It makes a little more sense when you realize that it was inspired by Watership Down and the designers were, I believe, zoologists or something similar. But having read it, the premise is the least interesting part of this game. It has so many fascinating little ideas.

Bunnies & Burrows is a game about rabbits … but these aren’t just rabbits, they fight, explore, gamble, study herbs, see the future, parley with beetles, find love, have children – and the list goes on. The end result are characters that ironically feel more human than you’d imagine.

As I play more games, I learn about games, sure, but I’m also learning a lot about myself. And a rule of thumb has slowly emerged: I want to play games that lead to interesting, surprising, unique things being said by the players. I’ve sometimes phrased it as “people want to say cool shit at the table”. I’m people.

Bunnies & Burrows starts with D&D as a jumping off point – there’s that old, familiar rolling 3d6 down the line to get your stats. But that’s more or less where the similarities end. You have rules for fighting but it’s not D&D combat – this game is often described as having “the first martial arts system” but what this means is that fighting is mostly weapon-less and involves declaring actions that flow into each other as patterns or c-c-combos. Basically, some actions set up other actions – you can’t Rip into another rabbit unless you already pulled off a Bite & Hold in the last turn. Some actions like Run aren’t possible if you’ve just done a Pin or a Rip in the previous turn and so on. I didn’t actually get to play out a fight but these rules got me grinning.

And the whole thing is like that. The study and application of herbs is meant to be a little puzzle where through trial-and-error and dice rolls, you slowly figure out what’s good for you and what isn’t. The languages and persuasion rules mean that certain characters can become envoys to other species. Because a language can mean the difference between things turning violent and a peaceful negotiation between rabbits and a mother scorpion that has accidentally wandered into their warren.

Don’t get me wrong. Most of these little pieces are eccentric and inelegant – always more convoluted than you’d like but still a major leap forward in playability because in the end, it’s a d100 roll under a target number. All the fiddliness – and there’s a lot of it – lies in the absolutely esoteric ways this game invents for calculating that target number. But I find it easy to forgive this in an old game, especially when the most interesting part of the game doesn’t lie in the mechanics but the negative space the rules seem to create.

The donut hole in the centre of this game – fruitful void? uncrowded centre? – is the question: What is rabbit society like? This is a setting question – or rather, a system of relation question – that is never asked but it must be answered. The mechanics have some opinions. For example, every player picks a profession when they make a character – Empath, Seer, Storyteller, Scout, and so on. Some of this comes from Watership Down, which can, of course, be your ready-made answer – it’s the unstated but obvious setting sourcebook for this game. But if you don’t go down that route, you’ve got a juicy problem: What do we value? What do we despise?

#indie rpg #ttrpg #ttrpg community #ttrpg design #ttrpgsolidarity

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flowerandblood · 5 months

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The Fall from the Heavens (9)

[ canon • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: kissing, angst, violence, swearing, humiliation, suicide attempt, descriptions of wounds, coercion ]

[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.

Characters & Series Moodboard Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Childhood

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

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

When he stepped out of the underground into the cloisters, there was complete chaos all around him. He stood on the stairs for a while, watching from below what was happening, not wanting to guide anyone to where his niece was, deciding that she was safe where he had left her.

Something had happened, he could feel it in his bones.

It was only when silence echoed around him that he emerged from his hiding place and moved quickly ahead, heading for his mother's chamber. He didn't find her there, however, and when he stepped back out into the corridor he almost bumped into Criston Cole, his lips pressed together in a thin line.

He was furious.

"My Prince."

Cole led him, to his dismay, into the chamber where the Small Council was meeting, not changing a word with him along the way, pale and tense.

He wondered if it had something to do with the fact that they had managed to escape on his watch.

When the door opened he saw his entire family. His mother, dressed in her most beautiful, richly decorated emerald gown with a large seven-pointed star on her chest sat at the head of the table, looking at him with furrowed brows, her hands folded in front of her − his attention was immediately drawn to the fact that she was plucking at the cuticles around her nails with her fingers, creating wounds from which blood was oozing.

To her left sat Aegon, all bruised and with his hair in complete disarray, as if he had been dragged out of some barn; he was still clearly drunk, staring blankly ahead, playing with a ruby stone ball placed in a niche on the table.

Next to him sat Helaena, breathing rapidly, it seemed to him that she was going through some kind of panic inside her. She was looking sideways, her whole body was quivering; he thought she didn't even notice his presence.

In addition to the maester and Lord Lannister, he noticed also his grandfather, seated at his mother's right hand, his chin raised slightly, his eyebrows showed surprise and disapproval. He was the first person to speak when the chamber door closed behind him with a loud clatter of old wood.

"At last you have graced us with your presence. Where have you been? The whole keep has been looking for you." He said dispassionately and coolly, with a kind of mockery from which he only tightened his lips, rolling his eyes, folding his hands behind him. He straightened up, sighing heavily.

"What's happening? Why all the commotion?" He asked, feigning indifference, trying not to pay attention to the tightness in his throat and the rapid pounding of his heart.

"Your father, our King, died this night. He passed away peacefully."

He looked at him in disbelief, feeling that for a moment his mind was in a complete void, his heart stopped, his body froze as still as stone.

As he always did in moments of panic, he turned his gaze towards his mother, the weariness and helplessness on her face, her eyes red from the tears she had surely shed over this old man she had never desired.

"Before his death, he revealed to me that it was Aegon who should become King. He told me this in person, without witnesses." She said quietly, lowering her gaze to her hands; she slid them down to her lap as she noticed that blood from under her fingernails had begun to run down onto the table.

A heavy, suffocating silence full of tension fell − his older brother looked at him as if begging him to spare him this and just kill him.

He involuntarily snorted, not knowing how else he could react to this nonsense.

"You can lie to the kingdom, mother, but not to us. If you don't want to let Rheanyra take the throne, just say so."

He saw her raise her gaze at him quickly, full of pain and regret, her eyebrows arched in disbelief that the son with whom she had always shared the closest bond simply did not believe her and mocked her words.

"It is true, Aemond. I swear on the Seven that it is true."

He turned his face away from her, hitting the side of his cheek with the tip of his tongue, feeling that chaos filled his head; even though he tried to calm down and focus, the terror that this was changing everything prevailed.

"Where is she, Aemond? She will be of great use to us in negotiations with the Princess. She will not burn us alive in the keep as long as she knows her daughter is here." Said his grandfather in a voice as if he were rebuking a small child, deliberately leaving out the fact that he guessed why and for what reason the two of them had fled.

He looked at him coldly, feeling a squeeze in his throat at the realisation that he had made a mistake.

She stayed because that was his desire.

She ran away with him because that was his desire.

She gave herself to him because that was his desire.

She had done everything he wanted, and now he was going to sell her, betray her, make her a prisoner?

A dragon is not a slave, he thought regretfully.

"Aemond." He heard his mother's pleading voice. "I want to find a solution that satisfies her mother to some extent as well. We must have her under control, it is the only solution."

"I will marry her first. The sooner, the better."

His grandfather and mother looked at him as if he had gone completely mad, Otto laughed as if he couldn't believe he had said that.

"I knew your brother thinks with his cock, but you? You've lost only one eye, but you're completely blind." He said with a sneer from which he felt his jaw clench.

"That was my father's wish. Unlike my mother's words, this decision of his was heard by everyone here." He hissed, looking at him with growing fury, like a cornered animal trying to bite, knowing that he was slowly losing control of the situation.

"Your father is dead. Instead your brother will face a difficult task for which he will need the support of Storm's End. You will marry one of Lord Baratheon's daughters. He has as many as four of them, a whole lot to choose from." His grandfather replied, looking around the assembled with a look full of conviction that he had said the right thing, that his sacrifice for his family was necessary, that everyone now had to take on some burden.

"No."

He heard his low, enraged voice before he had time to think, found to his surprise that it was not the call of his mind, but of his subconscious, as if that one word had escaped from his dark, empty depths.

"Don't be a fool, you have to…"

"My father's word matters in the decision to make Aegon King, but not in the case of my marriage?" He growled, trying to control his loud breathing, terror and panic overpowering his body, for here it suddenly appeared that the last person who could support him, who shared his desire was gone.

He had taken her, she could carry his child, his inheritance.

How could he abandon her now, after promising her that he would marry her as soon as possible?

How would that prove about him as a man?

"Mother." He turned to her as a last resort; his Queen looked at him with her lips slightly parted, her eyebrows arched in pain and indecision as she knew he was driven by more than just his dying father's wishes.

"We must protect our family, Aemond. We all make sacrifices. Duty is the death of love. Tell me where she is."

He looked at his mother, the woman he had always trusted, cared for, protected, and thought he was alone.

For a moment he saw her peaceful, sleeping face in his mind, felt her soft, bare, warm body snuggled into his, entwined with his like a vine and felt a tightening in his throat, tears of shame in the corners of his eyes.

"She is in servant's chamber."

He knew Criston Cole had gone to find her as soon as they had returned from the Great Sept after Aegon's coronation. He knew she must surely have felt betrayed, terrified and distraught; he thought about how she needed him, only to find that she now only despised him and had every right to do so.

When they returned, he locked himself in his quarters and did not leave, despite the lavish feast held in honour of the new King, insisted on by Aegon himself. He stared into the flames, exactly as he had when he had waited for her letters, and knew that if there had ever been hope for them, he had just crushed it.

Even if he wanted to go to see her, no one would let him in; his grandfather had made sure he would no longer visit her.

He felt empty.

Mad ideas ran through his head − thoughts that perhaps if he explained everything to her in detail, told her the truth, the fact that everything that was happening around them had occurred without him being involved, that he was as shocked as she was, that it was not his desire to wed anyone but her, he could try to marry her in secret.

He felt a sort of pathetic hope at the thought, which he knew was childish and naïve, however he clung to it not wanting to consider that she might not have desired and loved him anymore.

It was then that he heard it, the shouts of the guards and the commotion; he stepped out into the corridor and noticed that the door to his niece's chamber was open.

"Gods help us! Summon the maester, quickly!" He heard Criston's frightened voice; he moved in that direction qucikly and stepped inside, staring in disbelief at the terrifying sight before him, feeling only the frantic pounding of his heart.

His Rhaenys was lying on her bed, her lips parted, her face blue and pale, her wrists slit, the snow-white sheets and furs around her sticky with her blood, Criston clutching her wounds in his hands, looking at him in horror.

"− they told me they searched her whole chamber − she must have hidden it somewhere −" Cole said in a trembling voice, clearly afraid of his wrath, but he didn't listen to him, staring blankly at the small dagger lying beside her body, remembering that she had shown it to him proudly when they were still children, saying that now, like him, she could be a warrior.

She had asked him, in secret from their parents, to show her how to handle it, and though he had been reluctant at first, fearing that she would hurt herself, he succumbed to her when she told him that she would feel safer with it.

He acknowledged then that while she certainly wouldn't need it once he became her husband, as she would spend every night in his presence and he would be her protector, until they were married he would feel reassured if she could defend herself.

He then showed her some simple cuts on the sack filled with hay he had brought to her chamber earlier, which she stabbed with a certainty and ferocity that shocked him; had it not been for fear of what others would think, he would have suggested she try wielding a sword.

He approached her slowly on trembling legs feeling complete emptiness in his head, breathing heavily through his mouth and climbed onto her bed, gently grasping her cheeks in his fingers, turning her face towards him, her body limp, her lips slightly parted, her eyelids half open, her gaze distant, misty.

"− what have you done? −" He asked in a whisper, terrified of how his voice and body were shaking, his heart pounding like mad, his throat and stomach squeezed so tightly that he had trouble breathing.

He heard her quiet sigh as she struggled to lift her gaze to him, looking at him as if she was thinking about something, as if she wasn't sure if what was happening was a dream or a wake.

It was only when he looked at her closely that he noticed that her right cheek was all red and swollen, he felt tears of shame under his eyelids and overwhelming rage at the thought that someone had dared to hit her.

"− was I ever your Rhaenys? −" She asked so quietly that he barely heard her; he felt an unbearable squeeze in his throat, his eyebrows arched in pain, his eyes burning from the tears that wanted so desperately to run down his face.

"− you're − you're − gods, you've always been −" He whimpered with difficulty in a voice breaking with pain and grief, pressing his nose against her soft, cold cheek. He cried out loudly, never feeling so helpless before in his life, for his dearest woman was dying in his arms because of him, betrayed and abandoned.

He didn't hear the terrified screams of his sister and mother as they ran ran into her chamber to see what had happened, didn't hear the words of the maester telling him to move away or the look of his brother standing behind him, grabbing his arm, telling him in a trembling voice that he had to release her, that he had to let the medics treat her wounds.

"− do not fall asleep −" He muttered, feeling the warm tears run down his cheeks, looking only at her, stroking her head as if she were again a small child, shifting just enough for the maester to bandage her wrists and stop the bleeding.

He pressed his face to her cheek, whispering with difficulty that she was his beloved wife, his dearest friend, his sweetest Rhaenys.

"− my head is spinning −" She mumbled softly, his mother sitting on the other side of the bed covered her face with her hand, trying to calm her breathing, her face red from tears; Helaena stood beside her trembling all over, unable to make a sound, going through everything she saw deep inside her.

"Gods, help her." He heard her soft whisper, their mother repeated her words − she raised her hand wanting to stroke her daughter's arm, but she pulled away.

This is what duty was to them, he thought.

Destruction.

"− rest, my sweetest − rest −" He whispered, stroking her cold cheek with his thumb, sure that no force would tear him away from her now, no force would make him leave her, that if any of them tried to do so, he would fucking kill them all.

However, no one tried.

"She lost a lot of blood. I gave her beetroot juice to strengthen her body and secured her wounds, but she may not survive the night." He heard the maester's quiet voice addressed to his mother, the Queen wept softly and began to pray aloud.

He listened to the words of her prayer as he lay with his hand on her throat, tips of his fingers pressed against her artery to make sure he could still feel her pulse, his face pressed against her soft cheek.

Aegon got up at last and left without a word, his mother, Helaena and maester fell asleep in chairs by the blazing fireplace, wakeful, terrified of what consequences her death might have had for them all.

He, however, did not sleep that night.

For the first time in years, holding her in his arms, making sure she was breathing, that her heart was still beating, he allowed himself to return to the memories of their childhood that he had locked deep in his heart, recognising them as the source of his weakness.

He recalled their first kiss, how she looked that day and thought with bitter amazement that he remembered perfectly even what gown she wore, how her hair was combed, the taste of the lemon cake she had brought him moments before.

He kissed her forehead at that memory, so innocent and tender, felt the warmth melt into his chest and heart, so wonderfully pleasant, soothing.

"− uncle −" He heard her quiet voice and shuddered, looking down at her; he stroked her cheek and hushed her, seeing that her eyes were half-open, her lips slightly parted.

"− shhh − sleep, sweet flower, I am here −" He whispered and she smiled again, her hand lifted with difficulty, he felt a shiver run down his spine as her fingertips ran over the skin of his face.

"− can I kiss you? −" She asked softly, thinking for certain that everything that happened was just a bad dream.

He leaned over her and sank his lips into hers, feeling with relief that her body was warmer, that life was returning to her, her mouth wonderfully soft and moist.

She sighed sweetly feeling his closeness, his hand slipping into her hair, holding her close, his manhood in his breeches involuntarily pulsing hard, betraying how much he needed her, how much he desired her.

They kissed slowly, lazily, allowing themselves to finally be those innocent, ignorant children again, his fingers stroked her hair, her cheeks, her neck with a gentleness he thought his body had already forgotten, the taste of her saliva melting on his palate, on his tongue.

He thought with pain, holding her close, that when she regained consciousness, when she woke up in the morning, she would loathe him.

"− I dreamt that they made me drink it −" She whispered more to herself than to him, and he felt his heart stop, looking at her with his eyes wide open, his trembling breath enveloping her face.

"− what, my love? −" He asked trying to control the tremor in his voice, feeling the cold sweat on his back, his whole body froze.

"− moon tea − they forced it down my throat −" She muttered, nuzzling her face into his neck, as if she was trying to escape this thought, sighing quietly in relief, apparently thinking that they were still in in the chamber they had escaped to together.

He embraced her tightly, burying his nose in her hair, fruitlessly trying to stifle the whimper of horror that broke suddenly from his throat, his heart and throat squeezed so tightly that he could not catch his breath.

His seed that could take root in her womb.

Their future.

Their child.

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13 @snh96 @rwdkarla @echos-muses

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melzula · 6 months

Text

Someone Else

pairings: Zuko x Princess!reader, Zuko x Mai

notes: i was writing smoke and shadow when i realized i should probably give more insight to zuko and mai’s relationship in the fire lilies universe before i delved into the story. also someone requested i cover their conversation on boiling rock so here it is :)

summary: Zuko is forced to confront his past

~ part of the fire lilies series ~

As Zuko struggled against the hold of the calloused prison guards who were dragging him away to whatever punishment awaited him, he couldn’t help but think of y/n.

He remembered the way she’d struggled against the crystals that held her and his uncle captive in the catacombs and how she’d urged him to go on without her to help the Avatar. Her eyes had sparkled beautifully in the light, and it had been the last time she had looked upon him with love and care. Now when she looked at him, her eyes were cold and void of any love for him. They looked upon him with anger and resentment, and he knew he deserved it. He deserved every last bit of her animosity.

Growing closer to the open cell, Zuko began to contemplate the possibility of Sokka’s plan failing. He feared he may never get to see y/n again and make things right, apologize to her for the hurt and anguish he’d caused, and she’d spend the rest of her life hating him for what he’d done. The chance of never returning to his Princess seemed a far worse fate than anything the warden had planned for him on Boiling Rock.

The guards finally toss the Prince into the cell, his body colliding harshly with the floor.

“I didn’t do anything wrong!” Zuko protests with a groan before pulling himself up onto the sole chair in the room.

“Come on, Zuko,” a voice chides harshly, its owner carefully emerging from the shadows, “we all know that’s a lie.”

“Mai?” Zuko utters in surprise, his stomach immediately twisting itself into knots. Guilt creeps in his gut at the sight of her, and he dreads the conversation he knows is coming. He’d hoped he’d never have to face her again, but it seemed fate had other plans.

“How did you know I was here?”

“Because I know you so well,” she replies sarcastically, her cold glare never leaving his slumped figure on the chair.

“But how-“

“The warden’s my uncle, you idiot,” Mai chides. Her features soften for a moment as she reaches into her robes, the heartbreak and betrayal overpowering her anger for a moment. However, her wrath returns as she presents Zuko with his own letter. “The truth is, I guess I don’t know you.”

Zuko is silent, his eyes guiltily scanning over the scroll. Perhaps it had been wrong of him to end their relationship in such a way, but she probably wouldn’t have let him live to see another day if he’d looked her in the face and told her there was someone else. How can you look the girl you’ve known since you were children in the eyes and tell her you’d only used her to get over your previous girlfriend?

“All I get is a letter?” She scoffs indignantly. “You couldn’t even look me in the eyes to tell me you were leaving me for someone else?! You couldn’t even leave me my dignity and rip my heart out in person?”

“I didn’t mean to-“ Zuko begins to say, but this only seems to anger her further.

“You didn’t mean to?!” Mai retorts before unfurling the scroll to read the letter aloud. “‘Dear Mai, I’m sorry that you have to find out this way, but I’m leaving.’”

“Stop!” He interjects, subtle irritation clear in his tone and his features. “This isn’t about you.”

“Right,” Mai drawls dully. “It was never about me. It was always about her.”

“Mai-“

“You told me she never meant anything to you, but that was a lie, wasn’t it?” She insists, and Zuko’s silence only infuriates her more. “Wasn’t it?”

“…It was,” he relents quietly, his guilty eyes finally meeting her stern gaze. “But this isn’t about her or you. This is about the Fire Nation.”

“Thanks Zuko, that makes feel all better,” Mai replies dryly before harshly tossing the scroll at his head.

Rubbing the spot where the paper had made contact, the Prince rises from his seat and looks at his ex with an empathetic gaze. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

“Then why did you do it? Were you just dating me to get over her? Was any of it real, or did you just pretend I was her while we were together to make yourself feel better?”

“You have to understand I didn’t mean for things to turn out this way,” Zuko pleads earnestly, guilt clear upon his face. “It was never my intention to break your heart. I thought being with you would help me feel at home again, and in a way it did. You were familiar, someone I cared about. I thought maybe with time…”

“Did you ever even love me?!” She cries angrily. The truth was ugly, and the tightness in her chest was suffocating. How was she supposed to react to the news that she’d been used by the boy she’d been in love with since she was a young girl? She thought she’d finally won his heart only to learn none of it had been real.

Zuko remains silent, and that’s enough of an answer for her.

“You know, you two deserve each other,” she spits harshly, her words like venom. “A selfish Prince and a selfish Princess. I guess I know what you see in her now.”

“Don’t speak about her that way,” Zuko snaps. Mai laughs bitterly in return.

“I hope she’s not stupid enough to take you back. I hope she breaks your heart the way you broke mine,” she utters quietly. “You deserve it.”

“It’s not like that,” he argues, “I didn’t leave just for her. I have to do this to save my country.”

“Save it?” She repeats incredulously. “You’re betraying your country. Joining the Avatar and going after the South’s water bending Princess? You’re a traitor.”

“That’s not how I see it,” Zuko rebuts firmly. A tense silence fills the room as Mai indignantly crosses her arms over her chest and turns her body away from him. “And I hope you’ll see it that way too.”

“I won’t let you fool me again,” she replies coldly. Though her exterior is hard and angry, her heart is crumbling inside. Mai desperately wanted to know why she hadn’t been enough for Zuko. Why couldn’t he love her the way he’d loved the Princess? What did y/n have that she didn’t? Why her? Why not me?

Their conversation is cut short by the prison guard sent to protect Mai from the ongoing riot, and Zuko uses the opportunity to escape the cell and lock it from the outside. Though he’s free from captivity, he finds himself frozen in place by the girl’s gaze. Her eyes are full of wrath, but they shine with tears that refuse to fall. Locking into her intense stare, the guilt begins to creep up on him again. He’ll never be able to undo the hurt he’s caused her, but he hopes that maybe one day she’ll be able to forgive him.

Breaking away from her gaze, Zuko rushes towards the courtyard to join Sokka and Suki in their escape plan. Mai’s heartbroken eyes still haunt him, but the image is soon replaced with that of y/n’s. Unlike Mai, her eyes had been full of sadness when she’d been met with his betrayal in Ba Sing Se. She hadn’t been angry, she’d been disappointed, and that had felt worse.

His legs urged him to run faster now, his motivation to return home to his Princess stronger than ever.

Zuko was going to make things right, he had to. And he hoped she’d give him the chance.

~~~~~

| atla tags: @sirkekselord @chronic-daydreamer @niktwazny303

| zuko tags: @thebluelcdy @royahllty @the-firebender-girl @ilovespideyyy @yiyibetch @eridanuswave @lammello @a-monsters-love @knaite-solo @taeeemin

| fire lilies tags: @titaniafire @emberislandplayers @kikaninchen-2 @music-geek19 @thia-aep @thyunnamed @haylaansmi @nataliahaslosthershit @idkdude776 @aangsupremacy @thirstyforsometea @ihaveaproblem98 @brown-eyed-thang @xapham @misnmatchedsox @chewymoustachio @that-bucket-hat-gal @chilifrylizard2 @kyomihann @kaylove12 @kiwihoee @freggietale @moon-spirit-yue @bubblegum-bee-otch

#fire lilies #zuko #mai #zuko x reader #zuko x princess!reader #zuko imagine #prince zuko x reader #prince zuko imagine #prince zuko #atla #atla x reader #atla imagine #mai is giving washing machine heart energy

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shidouryusm · 9 months

Text

Im not coming home

Gojo Satoru x reader

Content- angsty angst, just a lot of pain, reference to recent manga,

A.N -> i wrote this in a bus all teary faced with a concerned old uncle looking at me. I need my blue eyed boyfriend so bad. This is me mourning I haven’t been able to do it properly all day. Im sorry pls dont kill me. Not proofread this is a heat of the moment writing literally 😭

“See you guys tomorrow”, you say softly before sprinting out of the building. As if your body clock instantly knows when to chime in and draw you back to your nest.

You briskly get out of the room, offering a small wave to Shoko who just entered. Her concerned eyes following your trail.

The sun was floating in the horizon, the ground painted asphalt from the dying colours of the twilight and the air filled with intangible thickness of cold. In the midst of it, you walked. You walk with a rising tornado of emotions bubbling inside you, contrast to the drying winter.

You walked through the bustle of Roppongi. The town was back from the shambles it was two months prior. Always finding a way to bounce back into its original upheaval.

Amongst the skyscrapers decorating Roppongi, you eyes wander to the little sweet shop- selling the ever famous kikufuku — sweet cream filled mochi with Zunda paste. Satoru’s ever favourite.

“baby, this isn’t just a sweet.” Satoru gasps indignantly upon hearing your allegations of getting a cavity from it — “It’s a delicacy. Zunda and sweet cream— a work of culinary that you need to appreciate by savouring it as much as you can”, you roll your eyes as you watch your boyfriend plops another mochi in one bite. “Well that doesn’t mean you can double it up as lunch , Toru. you need to eat some actual meal”

“In that case, I can eat yo— I’m sorry” gojo quickly moves away as you swivel the huge cushion towards him, sweet chuckles erupting from his chest as you look at him poutedly.

The little playback of the memory cracked a little smile on your face — the shop ever so reminiscent of your little late night trips with Satoru whenever you both feel insomniac.

You walk over to the shop, feet reflexively carrying you towards the whirlwind of memories you have with him.

The sun had already settled beneath the darkness when you arrived home. The huge compound of area void of any presence. You enter the room, turning the lights on as you settle on the table. The small bag of kikufuku carefully placed on it.

“I’m home” you say without any conscious thought behind.

How can you? When these words never failed to emerge a 6’3 white-haired nuisance, his large hands encircling your waist, his nose breathing in your scent as you get slightly levitated into the air from the insane height difference. The small whispers of “I love you”s and “I miss you”s exchanged in the small gap between your faces — as if it were eternities since you both met each other. Those cerulean eyes of his mirroring your pools with affection and love that ran miles after miles.

Followed by little kisses pressed to your cheeks, then to your eyes and lastly placed on your lips. Those soft rhythm of his lips like promises of eternity.

Your chest twists in pain like you hugged a teddy bear fashioned with sharp daggers, slicing through your soul.

A sharp throb of your heart against your ribs as if it’s begging to be freed and chase the one it’s destined to beat for always. Your body turns numb, the tears like rivulets against your cheek— while you let them flow freely after a day long facade. Your shaky hands wander aimlessly into the air, pleading to find the silhouette, the comfort, the warmth of his body.

A part of your soul seemed to die everyday since then and today another sliver of it withered into nothingness.

Your voice broken like the shards of mirror reverberates across the large room that no one but you occupy, “im home, ‘toru. Where are you?”

The bag of kikufuku lays on the table as it is but Satoru hasn’t arrived home.

A.N 2 -> Yall pls dont be mad this is my way to cope. Even though I wrote this Im clutching on to the littol hope that he will return. If not then understand gege snuffed the life out of me as well

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theturtlelovers · 2 months

Note

Hi! May I request, for the sentence prompts, number 5: “I’m not going to stop poking you until you give me some attention.” For a female reader with Donnie who are bf and gf, and the reader is saying it to Don?

₽Φ₭€ ƒΦ₹ A₮₮€₪₮¡Φ₪

Pairing: Donnie/GN!Reader Rating: Everyone Contents: The reader is implied to be female in request but can be interpreted otherwise, Donnie licks icing off of pop tarts Warnings: None Wordcount: 666

Notes: Hehe, getting back to knocking those requests down! It'll be a while before I even consider reopening requests, though.

What you were doing wasn't particularly new. It had become a routine to lovingly annoy your boyfriend until he had no choice but to turn his attention to you. Because miraculously, the moment he did, he would see you fluttering your lashes and sending him a sickeningly sweet smile dripping with feigned innocence. If it were his brothers, Donnie would be ready to scold them to the point they'd regret even being in the same proximity as him. Yet, because of that victory grin you would flash when you got him to look at you, he couldn't bring himself to do so.

And it was very interesting because you'd always find new ways to grab his attention.

One time, you texted him that you needed assistance at your apartment. Being the helpful lover he is, he came over ready to lend a hand, only to find that you had lied and just wanted to have dinner with him. Although annoyed as his mind was already recalling his list of tasks, he realized how hungry he was and how much he yearned for your touch. So, he ate the home-cooked food you made and then stayed even longer for movies.

Another time was when he hadn't emerged from his lab for nearly an entire week. While you absolutely respected the effort and dedication he put into his work, you missed him, and he seriously needed to take care of himself. So you sat next to him and started reading. Out loud. Very monotonously. And it was the Bible! "In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth," you began, your voice droning on in a blank tone. "And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep.”

Donnie didn’t register it at first, but then he looked at you in absolute confusion.

"And God said, 'Let there be light,' and there was light," you continued, not missing a beat.

“What are you doing?” If he had eyebrows, they’d definitely be raised right now. In his confusion, he was trying to fight a smile creeping up.

You looked up from the overly thin pages of the scripture, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “What do you think? I’m reading till you love me again.”

The self-taught scientist rolled his eyes, his annoyed confusion forgotten. “Okay, okay, come here.” Then there was that smile.

This time, you decided to employ the most annoying yet basic tactic to garner his attention: poking him repeatedly. Leo had once again clumsily broken the toaster, and it was out of commission. Donnie wanted to be able to toast his Pop-Tarts before licking the icing off later, so repairing the toaster was an absolute must.

It was hard to do that, though, when you slid in like a worm (he’d still love you as a worm; you’d be beneficial in different ways) and started poking him.

The first few pokes didn’t bother him at first. They were so fleeting and feathery he didn’t really care that you were touching him. They weren’t impeding his work.

But then they got a bit harder. And longer. And it was actually affecting his ability to think since you were choosing to poke random spots.

“I’m not going to stop poking you until you give me some attention.”

Donnie took a deep breath and slowly turned to you. You blinked at him blankly. God, he was so lucky was madly in love and your cute face and pretty lips- Donnie’s eyes closed for a moment. He took another deep breath and released it with a small shake of his head.

“Well, you certainly have it now.”

You did your little weird giggle as if you were some sort of gremlin. “Hehe! What’d the toaster do to Leo this time?”

While he recalled Leo’s version of the grand battle he had against the appliance, Donnie couldn’t help grinning when he saw the same smile you always have. Victory once again.

Tagging: @mrghostings, @whygz, @supershiny-raven Interested in getting tagged? Come check it out!

Like what you read? Check out my masterlist to see if you find anything else!

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talks-with-the-void · 3 months

Text

Fluid kintypes - identity doesn't need to be static

I used to be a wolf, once. Not in a past-life sense, but in a therian sense - I was a wolf therian and then I wasn't. Sounds weird to you? I'm not surprised!

Something that I have repeatedly been told by other therians and otherkin is "you are what you are and if you find out you are something else - well, then you never were the first thing at all." Especially when I joined the community several years ago, I saw this statement everywhere. But let me tell you: it's not true. I had several different kintypes over the years (side note: we are plural and for the sake of this post I am simplifying some internal structure things. if you want the complicated details, feel free to ask! /gen), started as a wolf therian, then I was a cryptid, a dinosaur, a dragon and some kind of monster. Now I am Khhanivore (from Love, Death and Robots) and Mewtu (from Pokemon, Mewtu is the German spelling) - and a raptor kintype is coming back. (I am also a werewolf, but that's not a kintype, that's just Purely Me And My Whole Essence)

"Okay Istasha, but isn't that just questioning or maybe flickertypes?", you might ask. Fair point, but no.

I honestly never really questioned my kintypes - if I truly question something, it turns out to either be a hearttype or Nothing at All. As for kintypes, I just know - all of us just know what we are, it's like chilling and one day, suddenly, one of us is like "oh, I am a horse. alright, carry on" and that's it. Our kintypes stay with us for several months at least, theoretically they could stay forever but tend to change along the way - which brings me to the next point. They aren't flickertypes either. We only really get fictionflickers and sometimes animalflickers and those are extremely short and always tied to media we are currently consuming - they feel, technically, like kintypes to me. For example, if I watch a lot of Supernatural, I sometimes get an intense feeling of belonging there, of being a non-canon character, of being part of the story, etc. I am this non-canon character in that moment, I might even get pseudo-memories or shifts, but as soon as I don't engage with that show too much again, it instantly fades.

Our kintypes don't work like that. Take my re-emerging dinosaur kintype as an example. I was walking somewhere a few days ago and suddenly had a pahntom sensation in my legs and feet and in the same moment I knew "ah shit, new kintype". I gave it a day because maaayyybe it's nothing? But deep down I already knew what was going on, so I have an Utahraptor kintype now. I am this. I identify as this through and through and it feels like I've always been this way. But it wasn't - a week ago I wasn't a dinosaur and now I am. I did not choose it, I did not engage with any dinosaur media at all, it just happened.

My kintypes have always been changing and trust me when I say I had a complete identity crisis when my wolf kintype first went away. But over the years Ive learned to accepot it - my identy is not static, it never was and it never will be and that's okay!

It doesn't make my kintypes less important or less real and it also doesn't mean I never was a wolf. I was. And then I wasn't.

I honestly think it is so, so damaging to still have this "kintypes are static"-sentient floating around in the community, because that's simply not true for all of us. For me, it honestly even makes more sense this way. Our brain has always been unstable, I lacked a true identity for so long. We grew up with untreated BPD andf although the symptoms are 95% under my control now (read: it's in remission), our brain still has a ton of habits from that time, like clinging onto different things to try and form an identity, to try and fill the void where a person should be. And the fact that the void is filled now, that I finally am enough of a person to fill it, this habit never changed. Our brain still randomly grabs things and makes them one of us, leading to fluid kintypes.

Let me end this with saying: being wrong about a kintype is fine. Figuring out you are X instaed of Y and never were Y is fine. But it is also fine to be X today and Y tomorrow.

I think I've said this before but I'll say it again: we, as a community, need to take our identities less and more serious at the same time. Let's stop the gatekeeping and policing others, let's stop overanalyzing ourselves so much. Let's stop looking for rules and asking "is it possible to be this?" over and over again - because the answer is yes. There are literally no rules as to how, why and what you can be. In order to be otherkin you need to do exactly one thing: identify as The Thing in question. Nothing else. On the other hand, we need to kindly educate those who confuse identify as and identify with, we need to kindly educate young therians who "choose their theriotypes", we need to make sure we are not watered down to being "a fun thing you can do".

I sometimes feel like the focus and effort of this community is in good faith but in the wrong place - static kintypes is one of them.

There are no limits. Be who you are today and if you are something else tomorrow, be that then. <3

#alterhuman #otherkin #alterhumanity #nonhuman #nonhumanity #plurality #psychological otherkin #therian #fluid kintypes

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frostedfaves · 1 year

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Control

Masterlist

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Summary: You lose your temper with Wanda after a mission and she decides to correct your behavior.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, arguing, brief blood mention, dom/sub dynamics (mommy kink havers unite), smut: fingering, oral, edging and overstimulation, also supporting women’s wrongs 😌

A/N: posting for the first time since October is kinda terrifying but I wanted to share this idea. if it flops I was never here

To say that you were pissed would be an understatement.

You were younger than the other members of the Avengers so you hadn’t been running missions as long, but you’d definitely been at them longer than Wanda, who was the current source of your anger. The others could practically feel the discontentment radiating from you and knew from experience not to pay any extra attention, but it seemed Wanda couldn’t keep your eyes off of you. Unfortunately for her, you quickly figured out how to keep your thoughts locked away, but it didn’t take a mind reader to know you weren’t in an approachable mood.

The door to the jet had barely touched the floor beneath it before you were walking out, declining any medical attention on the way to your room because it wasn’t your blood staining your suit and skin to begin with. Instead you stripped away the dirty clothing and hopped into the warm shower to wash away the physical reminders of what upset you in the first place.

“Are you going to tell me what’s on your mind since you won’t allow me to find out for myself?”

Wanda was seated at the edge of your bed when you emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a towel, and you couldn’t say that you were surprised. This is how you usually found her when you had a movie night or an outing planned, having given each other permission to enter your designated spaces at any time. You considered not giving her a response despite her confirmation of knowing you were upset but your mouth had other plans.

“I didn’t realize I was allowed to speak for myself,” you responded in a tone seemingly calm to an outsider as you went over to the closet to find fresh loungewear. “Or is that only reserved for special occasions?”

“What does that–”

“You’re not my fucking mother, Wanda!’ you all but screamed at her as you tossed sweatpants on the bed beside her.

“So this is about the interrogation.”

“No, it’s about the tv show I watched last night,” you rolled your eyes sarcastically. “Of course it’s about that! You were way out of line and you could have cost me intel if I didn’t find that flash drive on his body. Unless I signal to you or directly tell you I need help, I don’t need help! I especially don’t need you running to my fucking rescue every time someone’s a little mean to me.”

“He wasn’t just ‘a little mean’. He was threatening you!” she argues and you let out a laugh void of humor.

“Wanda, what the fuck was he going to do to me tied up with a gun to his head? Please, enlighten me.”

“Don’t be condescending right now.”

“I wouldn’t have to be condescending if you weren’t such a trigger happy pussy during the mission!”

“You know what?” Wanda was in your face within two steps, hand closed tightly around your jaw, forcing you to make eye contact. “I may not be your mother but maybe I should start acting like one. You clearly need better direction.”

“Wanda–”

“Mommy,” she insists while squeezing just a bit tighter, and you release a shaky breath you didn’t know you were holding in.

“Mommy,” you repeat quietly and she grins.

“That’s my good girl.”

The two of you stare at each other for what feels like minutes before she pulls you in closer and goes in for a kiss. Despite your arms being frozen at your sides you melt into it, feeling almost a relief of tension that’d been building for quite some time if you were being completely honest. A shiver traveled down your spine as you felt her free hand carefully unwrapping your towel, and you heard it land in the chair nearby.

In a flurry of movement you were suddenly against the mattress, staring up at Wanda as she climbed over you. One of her hands held your wrists together above your head while the other wandered around your exposed skin. Her kisses left your lips and traveled down the side of your jaw, around your neck and down your hardened nipples, and you couldn’t help the whimper that escaped you as she pulled one into her mouth.

“Don’t have much to say now, do you?” she teased as she switched to the other nipple, chuckling as she licked and gently tugged at it, and all you could do is whimper again breathlessly. “I didn’t think so.”

Your wrists are freed from hers for only a brief moment before you feel a tingling sensation, realizing that she’d instead opted for her powers to hold them together as she travels further down your body. Your heart was beating fast with the anticipation of it all, but you couldn’t help attempting some sort of comeback in the moment.

“Don’t be so – oh my god.”

Your cockiness was short-lived as Wanda suddenly dove tongue first into your pussy, your back arching just a bit as she began circling around your clit. By the time she wrapped her lips around the bundle of nerves you’ve started bucking your hips, and she’s quick to grab onto your hips and hold you into place. To your surprise, she kept going without interruption until she made you cum, and you couldn’t help the noises that came when she continued tasting you, suddenly inserting two fingers as well.

“Please don’t stop, I’m gonna–”

“Look at me.”

You let out a loud whine in protest when she pulled her head up and slowed down the motion of her fingers drastically.

“I want you to repeat after me or that last orgasm is the only one you’ll ever get out of me. Nod if you understand,” she commanded and you nod. “Good girl. Tell me that you are going to listen when Mommy tells you to do something because she knows best for you.”

“M-mommy,” you stuttered out a moan when her fingers plunged deeper for a moment.

“Say it or I’ll stop.”

“I-I’m going to listen when Mommy tells me to do something because she knows what’s best for me.”

“I’m going to tell Mommy when something upsets me instead of acting like a brat,” Wanda continued, brushing your clit with her thumb for a moment and grinning when you stuttered through your repetition. “Now remind me who you belong to again, love?”

She inserted a third finger and quickened her pace suddenly, and you almost forget your instructions until she delivered a quick slap to your hardened nipple.

“I’m yours, Mommy. All yours,” you assure her breathlessly, feeling relief when she praised you again and begging her not to stop.

“I’ve got you baby, don’t worry.”

She caressed the stinging nipple with her thumb as she dove back in with her tongue, teasing your clit again until she couldn’t hold back and started fully sucking on it again. She took pleasure in the sounds you made, so much so that she kept making you cum over and over until you finally started protesting and trying to escape her hand and mouth despite how good it all felt. Even then she made sure to get one more orgasm out of you, slowly pulling away with the biggest grin you’ve ever seen.

“Open up, my gorgeous girl.”

The fingers that were inside you passed your lips and you cleaned them for her hungrily, feeling something stir inside you again when you saw her lick her lips. Wanda noticed you watching and slowly removed her fingers, replacing them with her own lips and tongue.

“Such a good girl for me,” Wanda praised while climbing backwards off the bed, and you watched her slowly remove her own loungewear, your eyes heavily focused on her own hardened nipples and she chuckled when she noticed.

“Maybe you could taste two things for me tonight.”

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x fem! reader #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff x you #avengers x reader #frosty's smut

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valkyriexo · 2 months

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All works are works of fiction and created purely from imagination. They are in no way meant to be an accurate representation of the idol.

꒰OT8꒱ؘ

╰┈➤ headcanons.

ઇଓ They confess in your sleep | OT8 ⤷ fluff

ઇଓ How Skz would ask you to be theirs | Hyung | Maknae ⤷ fluff

╰┈➤ texts.

ઇଓ Groupchat | You're a teacher | OT8 ⤷ fluff, smau

ઇଓ Best friends skz accidentally confessing when they're jealous/mad | OT8 ⤷ fluff, smau

ઇଓ They break up with you | Part 2 | OT8 ⤷ angst, smau

ઇଓ They want you to meet their parents | OT8 ⤷ fluff, smau

ઇଓ Confessing to another member's girlfriend | OT8 ⤷ fluff, angst, smau

╰┈➤ collections

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ He helps you when.. ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

ઇଓ You Faint | Bang Chan ⤷ Sickfic, Comfort, Fluff,

ઇଓ You Have an Injury | Lee Minho ⤷ Sickfic, Comfort, Fluff, angst if you squint

ઇଓ You're drunk | Seo Changbin ⤷ Sickfic , Comfort, angst with a happy ending

ઇଓ You get your period | Hwang Hyunjin ⤷ Sickfic, Smau, Comfort, Fluff,

ઇଓ You get surgery | Han Jisung ⤷ Sickfic, Comfort, Fluff

ઇଓ You have the flu | Lee Felix ⤷ Sickfic, Comfort, Fluff

ઇଓ You have a migraine | Kim Seungmin ⤷ Sickfic, Comfort, Fluff

ઇଓ You accidently hurt yourself | Yang Jeongin ⤷ Sickfic, Comfort, Fluff, angst if you squint

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ DIVERGENT ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

ઇଓ What Faction would they be in? | OT8 ⤷ headcannon

╰┈➤ humor.

ઇଓ Who in skz? ⤷ video

ઇଓ At the met gala ⤷ skzoo

╰┈➤ other.

ઇଓ Met Gala Sketches ⤷ Sketches by Tommy Hilfiger

ઇଓ Skz at the met ⤷ video

ઇଓ picture of your bias ⤷ post a photo

꒰Bang Chan꒱ؘ

╰┈➤ series.

ઇଓ Invasion of Privacy Master Post | Teaser | Suspect Cards | IN PROGRESS ⤷ Smau, Fan fiction, Angst, Hurt, Comfort, mystery ⤷ In the dazzling world of fame, you have it all—a beautiful home, devoted fans, and Chan, the love of your life. But when cryptic messages start arriving, the line between adoration and obsession blurs. With each note, you feel increasingly unsafe. Now, you're on a dangerous journey to uncover the truth before it's too late.

╰┈➤ one-shots.

ઇଓ You're Scared of Thunderstorms ⤷ Comfort

ઇଓ I Volunteer ⤷ Smut MDNI ⤷ Chan comes home angry and frustrated and needs some release. ⤷ 500 Followers celebration ࿐

ઇଓ Microphones and Mistakes | Part 2 ⤷ Angst , comfort, fluff ⤷ Amidst the chaos of a highly anticipated performance, You find yourself grappling with unexpected challenges both on and off-stage. With the pressure of your debut song with Stray Kids mounting, you face technical difficulties and personal turmoil, including a rambunctious toddler and a strained relationship with your husband, Chan.

ઇଓ Broken Promises ⤷ Angst ⤷ You and your fiancé, Chan, are eagerly planning your wedding, envisioning a future together. But when doubts about your relationship's strength begin to emerge, you're faced to confront a choice; salvage what's left or walk away.

ઇଓ You Faint ⤷ Sickfic, Comfort, Fluff, ⤷ Part of the "He helps you when.." Collection

╰┈➤ texts.

ઇଓ You get scared playfighting ⤷ Comfort, fluff

╰┈➤ thoughts.

ઇଓ Late night thoughts 001 ⤷ Comfort, angst

╰┈➤ humor.

ઇଓ Channie at the met ⤷ Humor

ઇଓ confused chan ⤷ Humor

꒰Lee Minho꒱ؘ

╰┈➤ one-shots.

ઇଓ Nightmares ⤷ Angst, Comfort ⤷ Lost in a nightmare where Minho is gone, fear consumes you. Panic claws at your chest, each breath heavy with the weight of imagined loss. In the void left by his absence, shadows that dance mockingly in the corners of your mind. In this surreal realm of darkness, where reality blurs with the surreal, you're left grappling with the haunting question: where has Minho gone?

ઇଓ You have an injury ⤷ Sickfic, Comfort ⤷ Part of the "He helps you when.." Collection

╰┈➤ texts.

ઇଓ None yet

꒰Seo Changbin꒱ؘ

╰┈➤ one-shots.

ઇଓ Pretty Pretty Princess ⤷ Fluff ⤷ The adventures of Dad Binnie and Daughter Ha-ri

ઇଓ You're Drunk | ⤷ Sickfic , Comfort, angst with a happy ending ⤷ Part of the "He helps you when.." Collection

╰┈➤ texts.

ઇଓ None yet

꒰Hwang Hyunjin꒱ؘ

╰┈➤ one-shots.

ઇଓMy Favorite Princess | ⤷ Fluff ⤷ You and your husband Hyunjin celebrate your daughter Areum's Birthday

ઇଓ One + One = Three | RE-WRITE IN PROGRESS ⤷ Angst, Fluff ⤷ In the serene world of a rising K-pop star, you find solace in the quiet moments shared with your boyfriend, Hyunjin. Their love is carefully concealed, known only to a select few. But when a scandalous article surfaces, threatening to expose their carefully guarded secret, Y/N must navigate the treacherous waters of fame, loyalty, and betrayal.

ઇଓ You get your period ⤷ Smau, Sickfic, Comfort ⤷ Part of the "He helps you when.." Collection

╰┈➤ texts.

ઇଓ You feel insecure ⤷ Comfort, fluff

╰┈➤ humor.

ઇଓ Hyunjin driving ⤷ Humor

꒰Han Jisung꒱ؘ

╰┈➤ one-shots.

ઇଓ You get surgery ⤷ Sickfic, comfort ⤷ Part of the "He helps you when.." Collection

╰┈➤ texts.

ઇଓ None yet

╰┈➤ humor.

ઇଓDating Han is like ⤷ Humor

꒰Lee Felix꒱ؘ

╰┈➤ one-shots.

ઇଓYou have the Flu ⤷ Sickfic, comfort ⤷ Part of the "He helps you when.." Collection

╰┈➤ texts.

ઇଓ None yet

꒰Kim Seungmin꒱ؘ

╰┈➤ one-shots.

ઇଓ You have a migraine ⤷ Sickfic, Comfort ⤷ Part of the "He helps you when.." Collection

╰┈➤ texts.

ઇଓ None yet

╰┈➤ humor.

ઇଓ Falling down the stairs ⤷ Humor

꒰Yang Jeongin꒱ؘ

╰┈➤ one-shots.

ઇଓ Behave ⤷ Smut MDNI ⤷You misbehave.. so of course you deserve punishment

ઇଓ Cake tasting ⤷ fluff ⤷ You and your fiancé Jeongin go cake tasting

ઇଓ You accidently hurt yourself ⤷ Sickfic, Comfort ⤷ Part of the "He helps you when.." Collection

╰┈➤ texts.

ઇଓ None yet

#skz masterlist #straykids #stray kids #skz #stray kids masterlist

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welldrawnfish · 2 months

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How do I know if I'm plural?

I recently started talking to myself as like, a way to reassure and encourage myself and stuff. Saying stuff like "you're fine, you didn't do anything wrong" or "Do you want to do X, Y, Z... Z? Alright, let's do Z then." And now I'm not sure if it's just a good coping strategy for me or if I might be plural?

Like I'm not sure sometimes if the person doing the reassuring and the person being reassured are the same person, y'know? And sometimes it feels almost like a kind of dialogue, but other times it just feels like I'm speaking into a void? Are we median? Am I only one gal? Dunno!

And idk what if I'm just trying to like. Appropriate plurality because I think it's neat or something. I know and see a lot of systems and genuinely do think plurality is rly cool so what if I'm just trying to be plural on some level. It always feels kinda deliberate when I talk to myself

Needless to say I am very lost and thinking about it is making my head hurt and my chest tighten. Sorry if this is a bit of a long ask you don't have to respond I'm just trying to find answers however I can

I'm a bit under the weather rn im sorry if this is loopy so I want to make a comic on this eventually, Im just no good at general infographics Plurality is vast, complex, and varied. So its hard to say yes or no based on this But heres the three rules I'll follow looking for plurality without typical DID/OSDD redflags 1. If you have opposing thoughts or morals appear in your thinking process, particularly after a stressful event. 2. If you have names, images, or other things associated with these reassuring voice 3. If people say you have different "modes" or literally say you act like a differnet person sometimes and its confusing. 4. If these voices in your head arent... yours. Its hard to explain, but I feel like those with plurality could explain. --- Ultimately if you want to find out if your plural, 1st.

Be ready if you are scared, might freakout, or are actively angry or upset at these thoughts, understand that if an alter can emerge, they wont if they are under threat. You have to be kind, ready to accept them, and most importantly ready to apologize the them if you were toxic before. They can tell if you are sincere. 2nd.

Look yourself in the mirror, ask to meet anybody in there, tell them Thank you for existing.

3rd.

Imagine yourself a headspace if you don't have one. This is an imaginary world that can be anything you want from vast universes to an empty void. But create a place to meet.

Meditate, create a place to see them, to meet them, to speak with them. Be patient, focus on breathing, focus on visualizing the space. Try to exist solely within that space. Invite them there, they might show 4. Be Ready. Plurality cannot be unseen once you see it, your life will never be the same. And ultimately it could be the best thing ever, but it can be incredibly hard, rocky, and bring up alot of trauma in your life. Be sure you want to explore this and are in a point of your life you are able to handle it.

-- If theres any advice from more educated systems let me know, im not the most educated here, these are just whats worked for me.

#plural system #actually plural #plurality #system stuff

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 months

Text

Dirty Work 37

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: wowee, it's snowing here a lot.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Loki… Mr. Laufeyson doesn’t linger. As you lay in a sheen of foggy afterglow, he dresses and mutters to himself. You want to ask him to stay. To tell him it’s okay but you’re scared he might say no. So you prop yourself up on your elbows and watch him button his shirt.

“We both require a good night’s rest to contend with my family,” he says.

You nod and sit up, sliding your legs beneath the blankets. He looks up as you do and a line creases in his forehead. His worry makes you worry. You’re starting to get the feeling that something bad is looming.

“In the morning,” he avows before he turns away. “You will not emerge until I fetch you.”

“Yes, Loki,” you answer.

He stops at the doors and lowers his head, “here, behind these walls, I am Loki, beyond, Mr. Laufeyson. Understand, pet?”

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson,” you murmur.

He pulls open the door and steps out swiftly. The mechanism clicks into place and you fall back onto the pillows. You deflate beneath the downy duvet and close your eyes. He confuses you. One moment, he’s all over you, all-consuming and insatiable, the next he’s distant and icy to the touch.

You hug the top of the blanket and cling to his lingering warmth. Your thighs tingle and your core plucks as you clench, thinking of how his fingers delved deep into you. Why couldn’t he stay? You could have done more. You think you’re ready to.

It’s never what you want. You will await his signal and as always, you will take his lead. That is better. His words ring in your head from that fateful day, ‘obey and serve my every need and you will have all you ever longed for.’

What do you long for? That question follows you into your subconscious. You sink into the void, the knot of anxiety bound around your chest. Visions of rich greenery and fluttering petals fill your head, birds winging and critters chirping all around. The magical garden is a shrine of rosy sunlight.

Your mind builds a paradise and all at once, it falls around you. Your eyes roll open as you float back to the surface. Your lashes stick together as you blink and groan. It’s early, too early. Dawn paints a violet hue across the room. You lift your head and search around. Something must have woken you but there’s nothing but shadows.

You drop your head back down and groan. You turn onto your side and curl up, tucking a hand under the pillow. You squeeze your eyes shut, reaching for the last dregs of drowsiness. Your head swirls as you feel yourself descending again.

You’re brought back again. This time, you catch the noise. Your ears prick and you lift yourself to look over at the door, a gentle scuffing on the other side.

What’s happening?

You squint, your vision dulled in the lowlight. You sit up and push back the blankets as you sidle to the end of the bed. You see a black spot beneath the doors, darker than the rest of the slatted shadow. It moves. There’s someone out there.

The bed creaks as you bend your legs over the edge. Who could it be? Mr. Laufeyson?

A tap on the wood makes you flinch. The handle wiggles but doesn’t press down. Your heart thumps in your chest. A whisper comes through, “pet…”

Your spine goes rigid. Pet? It must be Mr. Laufeyson, but why doesn’t he just let himself in? You don’t recall locking the door before you went to sleep. You get up and creep forward.

“Pet, let me in,” the whisper is sandy and low. Is it really him? Who else would it be?

You unzip your bag in the dark and pick out a nightgown from the bottom, jostling the rest of the clothes. You slip it over your head and rub your eyes. You shiver as the air is cooled in the darkness.

You near the door and grab the handle so it stills. There’s tension as you twist it. It releases and unlatches easily. The lock is not in place. You pull it open a crack and squeak at the large, looming silhouette on the other side.

“Ah, pet, you’re awake,” Thor rasps.

“What–” you gulp, “what are you doing?”

“You didn’t come say hello,” he drawls, “so, hello, pet.”

You blink at him and push on the door. He slaps his hand against it, the wood shaking between you. You know he’s much strong, you can’t close him out.

“What is the matter?”

“Nothing, I– I’m trying to sleep,” you eke out. If Laufeyson knew…

“You are funny, pet,” he chuckles.

“Please, go, I’ll see you in the morning–”

“But I am here now,” he jerks the door, just a little, just a statement: he can open it if he wants.

“Why?”

“Why?” He huffs, “you haven’t very good manners, pet. My brother has trained you poorly–”

“Please leave me alone,” you beg, jittering. Just the mention of his brother has your heart in your throat. He said to avoid Thor but what do you do when he seeks you out.

‘To the right of your door…’ you pluck the words from your memory and shudder.

“I just want to talk,” he edges the door in another inch and you stumble back.

You spin and run to the wall, pounding on it with your fists. You must seem crazy but you don’t care. You hit it over and over, “Mr. Laufeyson! Mr. Laufeyson!”

You’re wrench back as a large hand frames the back of your neck. Thor turns you and claps his other hand over your mouth, hushing you. You whimper as you shrink in his shadow.

“What are you doing? I’ve only come to talk–”

You wriggle and put both your hands around his wrist. It’s so thick, neither hand can fit all the way around. You kick out as he keeps you pinned to the wall.

“Haven’t I been nice to you?” He growls, “so why do you treat me as a villain, little maid…” he leans in, “perhaps because your thoughts have corrupted me, hm? Naughty little maid.”

His voice lightens playfully as he tilts your head up. You squirm as your hand slides down his forearm. Your other swings out to hit his chest.

“What do you think I’d do? If I am so evil, what could I do?” He taunts as he pulls you from the wall. He drags you towards the bed, “what have you done, eh?” He says as he edges towards the bed, “you’ve already made a mess.”

He throws you back onto the rumpled duvet and you squeak. You push yourself up on your elbows and bring your heels onto the mattress. You push yourself back as he looms over you.

“Aren’t you supposed to take care of messes, little maid?” He bends and puts his hands on the bed, snarling through his teeth. He catches your ankle and pulls your leg straight, tugging you down to your back as you yipe. “Let’s make a mess–”

He grunts and suddenly staggers, releasing you as a dark blur crashes into him. He hits the night table and sends the lamp to the floor. He deflects Mr. Laufeyson as he charges again and they tangle each other up in their arms.

“You beast,” Laufeyson hisses, “get out!”

“Ah, brother, lovely to see you here,” Thor chuckles, “we were only just talking about you–”

“Shut up!” Laufeyson snaps, hooking his leg around his brothers.

“Don’t be so… dramatic,” Thor heaves as they struggle, pulling back and forth as each tries to overturn the other, “I was only getting to know her–”

“Get out!” Laufeyson repeats, “or I will truly be dramatic. Let mother see the cretin you truly are–”

“Speak for yourself–”

“Get!” You throw out your foot and kick Thor’s shoulder, immediately regretting it as he barely reacts. You scurry back and hug your legs.

“Aye, little maid,” Thor sounds amused, “isn’t that cute?”

“Brother, I tell you one last time–”

Thor cracks his elbow into Laufeyson’s ribs. The slimmer man lets go with a wheeze but doesn’t falter long as he slides between the burly blond and the bed. He coughs out another warning, “go.”

“I’m going,” Thor says lightly, “you always were so serious, brother.”

He waves off Laufeyson and steps away, sending you a look through the rising dim. You cower and watch him stalk away. Mr. Laufeyson follows and swiftly shuts him out, turning the lock with a loud click.

You push yourself to the edge of the bed and lower yourself to the floor. You pick up the lamp and straighten the table. You flip the switch and the light radiates around you. You turn to Mr. Laufeyson as he holds his ribs and scowls, slumping back towards you.

“Are you alright?” You ask as you rush towards him, “Mr. Laufeyson…” you reach to touch him but think better of it, retracting your hands to fold your arms over your chest, “I… Thank you.”

He sniffs and sits on the side of the bed. He pushes back his dark hair and winces. You hover before him nervously, shaking like a hummingbird.

“You did well… calling for me,” he says quietly, “that was very good, pet.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Laufeyson, I thought it was you knocking. I didn’t mean to–”

“I said, you did well,” he interjects as he outstretches his arms, beckoning you closer. He touches your upper arms and draws you straight, “are you alright?”

You quiver and nod, “I think…”

“Good, good,” He pulls you closer and leans forward to kiss your forehead, “I will sleep here then. Just until the morning comes.”

✨

Mr. Laufeyson leaves as you dress for the day. He bids you to lock the door behind him. He’s been silent but not in his usual way. Pensive but not dour. You put on a poppy red blouse with a brown skirt.

You ready out of habit, your mind still trapped in the night's events. First, Laufeyson and the wonderful way he made you feel. Then Thor and the horror he brought into your room. It almost feels like a bad dream.

You go to the door but don’t emerge. What if Thor is waiting? You shudder as you think of what he would’ve done if you hadn’t called for Mr. Laufeyson. If you hadn’t been heard.

The door shakes as a tap rattles you from your trance, “darling,” Frigga calls through, “are you awake?”

You inhale deeply, throat tight, and unlock the door. You pull it open and force a smile, “yes, I was just… about to come out.”

“Wonderful,” she trills, “we are having tea in the garden.”

“Oh?”

“Come,” she takes your hand, “after tea,” she drags you out as you pull the door closed with your other hand, “we will go into town and get a few things for the celebration. Flowers, as I said. And perhaps a new outfit.”

“Okay,” you agree meekly.

“Did you sleep well?” She asks as you get to the stairs, “you are quiet.”

“Fine,” you answer.

“Yes, I do find it difficult to sleep in new places,” she hums, “well, we only want you to feel at home so do let me know if I can do anything.”

You press your lips together and nod. Could you ask her to make Thor leave you alone? Or to make Mr. Laufeyson a little less stormy? No, but you suppose you could ask for some chamomile before bed.

She takes you through the grand foyer and into the next room, winding around to the elaborate dining room and the back entryway that opens onto an equally awe-inspiring veranda. The railings are wrapped in ivy and flowers, marble pots on plinths hold bunches of gardenia and the big square table at the center has four chairs on either side. Much too big for the meagre party at it.

As you approach, you see Mr. Laufeyson’s shoulders, straight and stiff as he grips the armrests. He glares across at Thor who smiles dopily at the sky. As you get closer, his eyes find you and you wilt down. Frigga draws you onward as Odin stands from the table to offer you the chair beside him.

“There she is,” he says, “come, sit.”

You obey, claiming the seat to his right as Frigga skirts around to take his right. Laufeyson sits along the side just to your own right and leans forward as you wiggle in the chair. He gives you a look and you bow your head slightly.

“What do you like? Milk? Sugar? Honey?” Odin offers as he pours a cup and places it on a saucer before you.

“Just milk,” you answer.

Thor puts his arm on the table as you feel him watching you. Laufeyson clears his throat but his brother doesn’t acknowledge him. You look down at the tea as it clouds with dairy.

“Isn’t this nice?” Thor booms, “I apologise, I was errant yesterday and hadn’t a moment to welcome you.”

You flinch and Laufeyson squeezes the armrest tighter, bristling visibly.

“Now,” Odin sits back, “boys, this is a special week for your mother. She’s working hard, you will not ruin this.”

“Wouldn’t dare think of it,” Thor puffs, “I was only being polite and welcoming the little maid.”

Little maid… the words make you recoil.

“Little maid?” Odin echoes, “don’t be so demeaning. She has a name or perhaps she should call you the big oaf.”

Thor tilts his head and snorts, peering between you and his father. “Forgive me, I thought that’s what she was.”

“Regardless, she is a person and a guest. You will remember your manners,” Odin reproaches.

“Yes, father,” Thor utters dryly and receives a sigh in return.

“Oh, let’s not spoil such a lovely day,” Frigga chimes, “isn’t it so nice to be all together ag–”

“Ugh, must the sun shine so goddamn bright,” the silty voice undergirds Frigga’s chirp. You look over as Hela struts in, a large pair of geometric sunglasses over her eyes, “remind me next time not to finish the bottle.”

“Hel,” Odin greets curtly as Frigga blinks in surprise.

“When did you arrive?” Frigga asks, “Hilde didn’t say.”

“I slept in my car,” Hela answers and struts to the table, sitting next to Laufeyson, “well, I woke up there, at least.”

“Oh my,” Frigga mutters.

“I got here early though,” Hela preens, “when’s that ever happened, mother? And all for Walpurgisnacht, though I guess Midsommar is some time off.”

“Yes, very timely,” Frigga agrees softly, “well, you can come along with us to town. You’ve always had a keen eye.”

“Oh, I may,” Hela smirks, “who is us?”

Frigga looks at you and you give a tiny wave. Hela grins and takes off her sunglasses, winking at you, “I almost didn’t notice the little mouse. Well, I think I shall join you.” She squints and shades her face before putting the glasses back in place, “tell me we have some breakfast wine.”

“Have some tea,” Odin insists, “and a bit of decency.”

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #dirty work #au #maid au #avengers #mcu #marvel #thor

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calummss · 8 months

Text

Orange, White and Dark Rosé | Rebekah Mikaelson

masterlist

summary: with cancer slowly eating you alive, you come back to school to see a beautiful girl that has started to make you question everything you thought you knew

pairing: fem! reader x rebekah mikaelson

words: 3.9k

a/n: for my girl kissers!! <33 also i believe this is my longest fic yet… NOT PROOFREAD

You’ve had the worst few months of your life. What started out as a simple cough became more painful throughout the weeks. Each cough as though your lungs were torn from your chest, no air to keep you breathing. Night sweats became drowning; difficulty swallowing became not eating at all.

‘You have pleural mesothelioma, Miss Blanchard.’ The words the doctor uttered still so freshly imprinted on your mind. He continued moving his lips but nothing but inaudible muffles penetrated your ears as the sound of your own heartbeat filled your empty void.

Several nights after your diagnosis you woke up. The air drained from your lungs as fluid started to build up between your lungs and chest wall. The sensation of drowning without water in sight. It was a nightmare. Your body turning on you, ready to take you away despite the care you took to look after it.

Following those events you were pulled out of school, your parents worried sick as their daughter was at risk for involuntary death any minute of any day. The feeling of loneliness only increasing as you spent most days alone in your room; on the chair at your therapist's office; or the dining table chair, eyes piercing through you as you tried to make conversation about anything else but your cancer.

‘Do you need help cutting the chicken?’, ‘Need more water?’, ‘Leave the dishes, sweetheart. Your dad and I’ll get to them.’

Your cancer not only took your life but your maturity, letting people treat you like a damsel in distress, needing help with everything when you wish you could just forget everything bad for one day and live as normally as you could, one day at a time.

‘I’m going back to school,’ you said, placing your cutlery down on the dinner mat, staring onto your plate as you could hear the chewing of rubbery green beans stop.

Your mother grabbed her glass of wine, clearing her throat and washing it down all at once. Your father stared at your mother as she tried to find words that reflected her wish to protect you and to keep you as comfortable as possible.

‘I’m sorry, darling, you said you wanted to go back to school?’

‘Yes.’

‘Can I ask what brought this sudden request.’ She neatly folded her ageing hands underneath her chin, her eyes resting on you as your father’s eyes jumped from frame to frame, unsure what to say.

‘I just want to live as normal as possible,’ you let out a sigh, ‘I miss my friends, I miss having to do stuff, I miss…I can’t believe I’m saying this,’ you chuckled, feeling heat rush through your face. ‘I miss homework. School assignments, presentations, stuff I hated before but made me normal. A normal girl living a boring life. I’m missing my chance at a full life just because of this cancer I’m sure will rob me even further as time passes. I need to be able to feel like I belong somewhere despite…all this.’

Their eyes stayed focused on you, soft eyebrows trying to interpret what you needed the most in a time where everything slowly started to deteriorate.

‘Have you thought about what your school life would be like now, Y/n?’ Your father engulfed your hands, his thumb rubbing circles as he often did. ‘You would need to carry around an oxygen tank in case of an emergency. You complained every day that the school day was hard and now it will be three times that of before. I understand where you're coming from but I need you to know what decision you are making…Your mother and I only want what’s best for you and if that is going back to school so be it. But we will have to make sure you are okay at all times.’

‘I really do want to go back…’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes.’

‘Fine,’ your mother took your other free hand. ‘You can go back to school. But promise us that when things get hard that you will tell us and may have to take a step back from school again.’

‘I promise.’ You smiled at them, squeezing their hands tight. ‘I will accept my limits when they come.’

The very next week you stood back on the familiar ground of Mystic Falls High; home to the timberwolves. The bell you dreaded every morning , rather wanting to exchange gossip with Elena and Caroline. However that particular morning you have never felt more excited to walk through the halls. Hallways you haven’t seen in a few months. Faces of fellow students.

Walking through the door you noticed a heap of pitiful glances, welcome backs, get well soons and prayers. It wasn't unusual for everyone to know what had happened to you, Mystic Falls was a small town after all. Their words of condolences were sweet. You cherished them. But when you live on limited time, burned out hope and terminal cancer with a survival rate of 9.6%, it was hard to pretend like you would get better when their words could easily be uttered to a person that simply caught the common cold. Nothing could fix you. The only thing you had were fifteen months to make sure to drain every last drop of experiences life has to offer. No prayers, no words of the world could help—only medicine could. And even that was a shot in the dark. Caroline had offered her vampire blood to you on more than one occasion, but you were convinced that it wouldn’t help so you declined it over and over again, continuing to deny the chance at a normal life that you craved more than anything.

Heading towards your locker, you placed your emergency oxygen tank inside, the dust of month’s absences piling on old books you had left behind the day the cough became too unbearable.

Closing the door you made your way to your first class of the day; history taught by Mr. Saltzman. Bracing yourself to walk into a room full of eyes, you noticed that the classroom was empty for the exception of a girl. She was beautiful. The type of beautiful you would see beyond your day, wondering whether or not you would see them again. She had light hair, almost as white as her skin that bore freckles across the apples of her cheeks and nose that stuck between pages of a book that let her long black lashes show. Full lips pursed, knitted eyebrows framing her face.

‘I’m sorry,’ you felt rude for interrupting her obvious devotion to studying. ‘Is this history with Mr. Saltzman?’

‘Yes.’ She answered boorishly, eyes stuck on the pages, rushing her words as she paid no attention to you.

‘Where is everyone?’ God you were embarrassed to disrupt her again.

��How would I know?’ She sighed, finally looking up. Her blue eyes locking with yours as you appreciated her beauty, wishing you looked like her. To be so flawless.

‘Oh, I’m sorry—I just—ehm, it’s kind of my first day back in a few months and the lack of students is making me doubt if I am in fact in the right room…’

‘No, this is the correct room,’ she stopped looking at her notes, her crystal eyes glued to your face as you continued to study her details. ‘So you went here before then?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why did you stop?’

‘Got sick.’ You pressed your lips together, sliding your hands into the back pockets of your jeans that clung to your thighs.

‘What sickness?’ She asked with a genuine look of interest, almost as if it were her first time encountering a sick person. Lucky her.

‘Cancer.’

‘Ohh,’ she puckered up her lips, squinting at you, her words confusingly sounding concerned and uninterested. ‘That sucks.’

‘Yeah,’ you breathed, the continuous standing started to make itself known as your shoulders started to feel lighter. ‘It sucks.’

‘Well you are free to sit next to me. I don’t tend to be liked by most.’ Her pearly teeth peaked between dark roseish lips. ‘I’m Rebekah by the way,’

‘Y/n,’ you smiled back. ‘Nice to meet you.’

Walking over to sit down next to her, the sudden sound of familiar voices washed over you as Caroline and Elena came through the entrance, their eyes widening as soon as they saw you standing back in the classroom that had felt your absence the past months.

‘Y/n, oh my god!’ They almost shouted in union as they sprinted to hug you tight, their arms merging into your back as you reunited with your friends. No hospital visits or phone calls, just friends seeing each other in school like you always have.

‘Come sit with us!’ Caroline dragged you towards the front of the room, your eyes turning back to Rebekah who had observed your encounter with the girls, her eyes smiling back at you, her spark diminished as you parted from her.

In your next class you saw Rebekah again.

Again sitting alone at the dissecting table and when you made up your mind to sit next to her, Rebekah noticing your upcoming footsteps, Elena and Caroline barged through the door like they had before. Pulling you towards the opposite end of where she was sitting, her seat staying vacant as her eyes continued to find you throughout the lesson.

‘Rebekah, wait!’ You called after her, the last sound of the bell signalling the end of the school day.

Rebekah turned around, her blonde hair framing her face. Strands of hair blowing across her face, caught amongst her lashes. The sun reflecting on her skin.

‘About your offer to sit next to you,’ you lifted your arm to block the blazing sun. ‘I would like it if you held that spot for me tomorrow. If you still want me to sit next to you…’

‘Sure, it’s not like it’ll be occupied anytime soon. It’s yours to take.’

‘Okay then…’

‘I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/n, okay?’

‘Sure, yeah totally,’ you cleared your throat as you mentally prepared for the criticism you were about to hold above your head. ‘See you tomorrow.’

Rebekah gave you a last smile, ‘Bye.’

‘Bye,’ you whispered, her feet already taking off towards the other side of your way home, leaving behind a manipulative smell of vanilla and macadamia nut, that you swore was the nicest fragrance you had smelled in a long time.

The next day you came walking back through the class again, finding Rebekah by herself at her assigned spot, her hand swiftly moving across her page.

‘Good morning, Y/n.’ She greeted, her eyes never leaving her paper.

‘How could you tell it was me?’

‘I smelled your strawberry perfume before you even entered the room,’ she finally lifted her head to reveal her face.

‘Do you like it?’ What is wrong with me?????

‘I do.’ Nevermind.

‘You don’t mind if I keep my word, right?’ You eyes up the chair next to her, waiting for her response, silently hoping that no one would barge in to seat you away from her.

‘Feel free to use all the space you need.’

You chuckled, letting your feet carry you to the table next to her, her familiar scent back in your memory as you took out your school supplies, feeling her gaze on you.

‘So,’ you turned your head to her body already turned towards you. ‘Are you new here? I haven’t seen you before?’

‘Yeah, I am. I moved here a couple of weeks ago. My brother has been here for a month now and I wanted a change of scenery.’ She let out a breath. ‘There’s only so much of New Orleans you can take.’

‘New Orleans? That is very different from Mystic Falls…’ You raised your eyebrows with a grin, your armpit resting over the back of the chair, legs crossed, turned towards her. ‘Do you like it here?’

‘So far I do…’ Rebekah glanced at you, a shimmer of light swimming amongst her pale eyes.

‘That’s good…’ You stared back because it was the only thing you could do.

Her hand reached for your hair, taking a strand of it and twirling it around her index finger, gently laying the curls heated with her body temperature on your shoulder, ‘You have really nice hair.’

‘Thank you,’ you felt a rush of heat make its way to your cheeks, your stomach starting to feel queasy as you let her words repeat in your mind. ‘I love your— well actually everything about you is really beautiful.’

‘You are too kind.’

‘I wouldn’t lie.’

‘I know you’re not.’

‘Good…’ Your eyes couldn’t part from her, her face burned into the back of your mind, still wanting to stare at her as long as you could. Her smile bringing warmth to you.

‘I wouldn’t lie either,’ she repeated.

‘Good.’

The teacher came in, disturbing the awful long eye contact, both cleared by loud coughs, Rebekah and your eyes settling to the front of the class; no more looks being exchanged for the rest of the lesson, though you fought the urge to catch a glimpse.

‘Do you have anything planned today?’ Rebekah and you walk out of the building, the school day coming to an end as grey clouds started to gather above you.

‘No, I don’t think so.’

‘Would you like to come over to mine?’ She turned her face to you. ‘We could watch a movie, bake something, I don’t know. Do something typical for a teenage girl.’

Typical for a teenage girl. Normalcy. She treated you normally. Never once mentioning the fact you were sick or if you were okay with it. She treated you like an equal.

‘I would love to.’ You replied, feeling glad that a person could forget about everything shitty in your life and talk to you like you were just like them.

Rebekah drove you to her home, finding out that she had a rather large heep in possession. The kind of car you’d take to the beach on an early summer morning; running towards the cold water as sand stuck to your naked skin. Rebekah was a good driver, unlike your father that made you glad that you had health insurance…

Seemingly arriving at her house, a big mansion greeted you. Surrounded by trees, a long driveway leading to the mansion’s entrance.

‘This is your house?’ You asked, eyes glued onto the building, imagini how many room it must’ve had. How many square feet it covered.

‘Yes.’

‘It’s so nice.’

‘I know,’ she chuckled, unbuckling her seatbelt. ‘I have to admit that my brother does have great taste when it comes to architecture. Suppose it’s his only good trait.

‘You have a brother?’

‘Too many…’

You let out a laugh, you too unbuckled your seatbelt to step out of her car, feeling so small as you walked towards the door. The interior of the house was just as beautiful. Simple yet classy Rebekah threw her keys onto one of the dressers that stood by the door and told you to follow her, your head turning left and right, mesmerised by everything you took in.

‘Rebekah.’ You suddenly heard a male voice call from behind you. He had a nice accent just like she did.

‘What, Nik?’ She didn’t sound too happy to see him.

‘Aren’t you going to introduce me?’

‘This is Y/n from school. Don’t eat her, she has cancer.’

You listened to her with a quizzical look on your face, looking at her as she mirrored your expression.

‘What?’ She asked.

‘Vampire?’ You asked.

‘Yeah.’

‘Hmm,’

‘You don’t seem surprised…’

‘I have lived in Mystic Falls all my life,’ you let out a jestful breath. ‘Nothing surprises me anymore.’

‘Well,’ his voice made you turn your back on Rebekah, his tone full of pride and confidence, ‘welcome to my humble abode.’

‘Humble is a great word to describe all of this,’ you grinned, looking at the room once more. ‘But it is really nice. You have good taste.’

‘I know I do. Best get going then,’ he pointed towards Rebekah whose facial expressions couldn’t have made it clearer that she wanted to get away from him.

‘Nice to meet you.’

‘You too.’

You paced towards Rebekah who told you to follow her, different hallways leading towards a really nice kitchen.

She grabbed all the ingredients that you thought was going to make a cake and watched as her eyes crinkled, so focused on finding everything that you needed.

‘Are we making a cake?’

‘We are,’ she snuck a quick grin, her head pack in the cabinet searching for a baking tin.

‘What type of cake?’

‘Well,’ she resurfaced, placing the tin on the counter, her cheeks lightly flushed. ‘I kind of asked Elena what your favourite cake was and she said your favourite was a lemon cake, so we are going to make that. Unless she lied…’

‘No, no,’ you tried hiding a grin, fingers picking at your palm. ‘It is my favourite.’

‘Good.’ Rebekah exclaimed, almost throwing the flour at you. ‘You'll do dry and I’ll do the wets.’

Continuing to make the cake, Rebekah was whisking the cake batter enthusiastically, dancing along to Stacy’s Mom that blasted through the stereo. Carelessly throwing her limbs up and down, swaying her head with the biggest grin you had ever seen…She was so beautiful

‘Oh,’ Rebekah gasped, your mouth widening in shocked as wet drops of batter landed on your face, Rebekah accidentally swinging the wrong arm to the rhythm.

You let out a giggle, trying to swipe away the batter but it was no ise. Every stroke just spreading it more evenly across your face. ‘Shit.’

‘Here I got it,’ she set aside the bowl and came closer, placing her thumb on your cheek, getting the batter on her finger, her eyes momentarily longing on you. She retracted her thumb and licked off the excess, eyes never breaking contact.

You stared at her for what felt like forever, captivated by her face; her eyes, her lips, all whispering to you that you should come closer. You leaned in, your heart beating so powerfully you ought to stop, exhaustion that came with the sickness. But you didn’t. Neither did she. Her breath ricocheted off your cheeks, her glimmering eyes infatuating yours as you could feel your lips take the lead but before your skins touched, a loud opening of the door made you jump back, looking back at what had caused you to separate.

‘What do you want, Elijah?’ Rebekah asked forcefully, the older man’s eyes glimpsing at both you and her

‘Do I need to want something walking around in my house?’

You observed the two, their banter making it clear that he too must be one of the ‘too many’ brothers she had talked about.

Feeling queasy, you quickly said goodbye to Rebekah and Elijah, telling them you weren’t feeling too well, a perk when being the teenager with cancer. Everyone at all times will believe it.

You had to get away from Rebekah. She was clouding your mind and falling for a girl wasn’t supposed to happen. You’ve been with a guy or two and those feelings you felt when you were around them, you recognised as the image of her resurrected itself in your mind. You liked her, but you couldn’t like her. At least not right now.

‘I’m home!’ You called into the house, the smell of grilled eel filtering through the air: your favourite.

‘We’re in the kitchen!’

You placed your backpack next to the stairs, ready to take them to your room once you were done with dinner. Entering the kitchen you saw your mother plate the last of the cut up eel pieces onto the plate, placing it on the table with some salads and rice. Your father stood by the kitchen aisle making some mocktails from his newly purchased mocktail cookbook thing you got him recently.

After dinner you went up to your room, putting the oxygen tube on your face as today’s exhaustion came running to you. Thinking back on the moments that increased your heartbeat.

‘Honey, are you okay?’ You heard your father’s footsteps approaching your room, leaning against the door frame.

‘Yeah,’ you nodded, glancing at your oxygen tank. ‘Hard day. Have to catch my breath. Literally.’

He chuckled, coming in to hug you. ‘Just make sure to tell us once you’ve reached your limit, okay? I know you like to act tough and pretend that you can still keep up but you need to have a reality check. You’re not the same as before and that’s okay. No one is trying to put you in a box. You just need to accept that certain limits cannot be reached anymore…’

‘Yeah I know, dad. I know. It’s just hard having to turn my back on my past life.

The next few weeks Rebekah and you pretended like the moment back at her house didn’t happen. Continuing to sit next to each other in class, meeting at each other’s houses or going out in town.

It was easier ignoring the moment than trying to talk about it because if you were being honest, what would you even say? You liked her as a friend. Nothing more. You’ve known her for less than a month so how could your heart possibly flutter at the thought of her touch on your skin.

Then you were invited to the Mikaelson ball, a card delivered to your doorstep. On the back Rebekah’s writing said, to meet her there to clear stuff up.

So when Friday came, you managed to find a dress and head towards the mansion you had previously entered before. Only this time you were hooked to oxygen after a water build up episode that caused your lungs to fill with water.

Arriving at the mansion you were greeted by servants who took your coat, without looking, wanting to grab your tank thinking it was luggage. ‘I’ll be needing this…’

‘Hi.’

You turned around, already knowing whose soft voice it belonged to.

‘Hi.’

‘You look gorgeous.’ She awed in amazement.

‘You too.’

‘Are you okay?’

‘Oh, yeah,’ you noticed her lingering stare on your tank. ‘Lungs filled with water. Nothing crazy.’

‘We need to talk. I’m sorry.’

‘No I’m sorry.’ You said.

‘For what.?’

Compelled in the moment you pulled the last of your confidence together and stepped closer to Rebekah, who looked unsure of what you were about to do. ‘For this.’ You placed your lips on Rebekah’s, gently kissing her lips as a thousand thoughts filled your mind, all screaming to stop, but you didn’t want to.

Rebekah’s hand found your face as she deepened the kiss,careful not to tangle the oxygen tube.

You’ve never felt this way before. You thought Rebekah was just the type of pretty you wanted to be, not knowing that she was just someone you wanted to be with. And with dying time there wasn’t another person you would rather kiss other than her.

The start of a short love story; the dead and dying.

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call-me-copycat · 3 months

Note

Hey! Idk if you still write fics but if you do. Could you please write about Aizawa having a daughter who selfharms, but he didnt knew until one day he entered to her room and find her doing it?.

Its kind of an emergency so i would really apreciate if you wrote it 🩷

Hi! I'm really sorry for the slight delay, I've been bouncing between school during the day and work at night, so even though I saw your ask I couldn't physically write it due to exhaustion (⑉ ᷄ ⌳ ᷅ )ก

That being said, even though it's been a couple days I didn't want to leave you hanging! I got some rest and wrote as much as I could in one sitting!

I really do hope this helps, feel free to message me anytime if you need to vent or such ₍ᐢ‥ᐢ₎ ♡

What I Owe To You

*I listened to this on loop while writing*

➤ Welcome - Introduction and Request Rules (Requests are open + Some info about me)

▶ Characters: Just Aizawa and Reader

▶ Genre: Comfort + Slight Angst

▶ Summary: As the ask states

▶ Word Count: 2925

▶ WARNINGS:

- Self harm

- Depressive thoughts

- Overall lots of angst

Please don't read if any of this makes you uncomfortable!

The cycle always went on.

At this point you were afraid of what was to happen next. At the same time, the thought was pushed away by the constant emptiness that filled you through. The sticky tar-like hands of this unknown void ravaged your mind, shredding it apart piece by piece.

Leaving you constantly feeling... Hollow. It was difficult to describe it as anything else.

You walked to school everyday and went to your classes. You sat next to your classmates as they animatedly discussed the usual topics of training and what to do after school.

On the weekends, you slept. Sometimes went shopping with your father. Maybe you'd get visited by your Uncle Mic, other times you'd train.

There wasn't much variety. It was suffocating. These feelings had no place to spawn from, as your life wasn't much different from everyone else's. There didn't seem to be a reason, for all you knew. But it was there, no doubt about it. It made itself known.

It was a usual Friday night. You had completed all your classes and had the weekend to yourself. It felt pointless, there wasn't much to do. Nor did you have the energy for anything either.

Sitting in your room, you jumped a bit at the unexpected knock on your door. You had been gazing out of your bedroom window for who knew how long, zoning out as far from your mind as you could. You vaguely remembered that a storm was to come soon.

"Dinnertime. Wash up and come to the table when you're ready."

Your father's voice never failed to comfort you, and in a way he was one of the main beacons of light in your dark and foggy world. An unchanging pillar of strength, he held on tight to your cracking mind.

Slowly, tiredly, you made your way out of your room. As you passed by Aizawa, he couldn't help but sigh in response to your barely-there smile at him. You had a habit of doing that, possibly to keep him from worrying.

Truth be told, Aizawa always worried about you. Ever since you were young, he was on guard every second, trying to keep you from falling and scraping your knees, to keeping an eye on you during training.

Though recently, he had noticed some... changes. Your eyes began to grow dull, and their usual energy faded with each passing day. The bags under them grew more prominent, and in turn your hair began to be left more of a mess. Slowly, little things were building up, and he couldn't tell why.

It worried him sick, since the only thing he had in mind for you was for you to be happy and safe. Seeing your condition worsen with each day made him nauseous, as it was the last place he wanted you to be at. He wanted to help you, the best he could.

So that's why before you even sat down to eat, he began to question you.

"Are you feeling okay, [Name?]"

Truth be told, he knew you'd say you were fine. He just needed to soothe his frantic mind.

Looking up at him, you gave him another smile. He couldn't help but grimace at how forced it looked.

"Oh, of course I'm fine." You clenched your jaw at how unenthusiastic you sounded, but it would have to do.

Aizawa only felt uneasy. Too many things added up and gave him a weird taste in his mouth to leave it at that.

"Look at me, [Name]."

The unusual tone of his voice brought you out of your foggy state of mind as you looked up at him fully. Once you met his eyes properly, Aizawa took notice of the... Saddened expression that filled yours. He knew someone was wrong, but it was being covered.

"You'd tell me if something was wrong, right?"

He needed to know if you trusted him. He needed to be the one person you trusted in life. This was all or nothing.

Your eyes went wide for a split second as your breath hitched, but you quickly shook it off. His bluntness was what caught you off guard.

"Really, it's nothing Papa." You tried smiling once more, raising a hand out a bit in an attempt to calm him. You knew it was a pitiful attempt, but you didn't have the energy to make it convincing. Alongside that, Aizawa was generally a very tough man to fool. It'd take a lot to actually pass anything through him.

Aizawa's eyes narrowed in response as he saw your reaction to his question. Your body language indicated how uncomfortable you were, and he didn't want to push you too far past your limits.

It was tough, but he decided to give it up in the end and hope you'd come to him whenever you were ready. You always shared everything with him since you were young, and he had gained a large amount of trust over you in turn.

Dinner was eaten in silence, and as soon as it was over you bid your father a goodnight before heading off to your room.

Aizawa stayed seated at the kitchen table as he watched you walk off, wondering what was happening to his child. He couldn't bear the thought of you struggling with something alone. He had been there your whole life to help you get through everything you passed by, so why weren't you letting him in now?

After much deliberation, he got up from his spot at the table and made his way to your room. He needed to finish this conversation, and he needed to know what was going on. His mind had been sprawled all over the place for the last few months, as he'd been observant enough to catch on to the smallest changes you went through. Seeing you go into such a decline was like a punch straight through to his heart.

His mind was in such a haze that he threw open your door without second thought, seeing as he normally takes care to knock first. The room was pitch black, but based off of the startled gasp that came from you and the clanging of metal hitting the ground, Aizawa felt his blood freeze in fear.

Quickly flipping on the light, his eyes widened at the site that laid in front of him. You didn't have any time to cover yourself, so Aizawa saw it all.

The bandages laid out.

The blades.

And most importantly, your cuts.

You felt your eyes water at the expression on your father's face, guilt and self-loathing bleeding into your mind.

Aizawa was stuck in shock for a moment. It felt as though all time was warped as he saw what was his worst nightmare laid out in front of him. He was quickly snapped back to reality at the sound of your sobs that echoed throughout the room.

He swiftly made his way towards you from across your room, and in one smooth movement he pulled you into his lap, hugging you tightly to himself.

He had known something was wrong, felt it deep in his heart, but he didn't realize how serious it truly was. His heart ached for you as his grip only grew tighter around you. Aizawa didn't want you to hide these things from him, and in a way, he felt disappointed at your lack of trust towards him. All his disappointment and anger quickly dissipated, leaving him to face his worry and guilt.

"[Name]..."

He could hear his voice tremble, but couldn't care less.

"Why? I-" He was stuck in shock. It was something he never thought he'd run into. Looking down at you, his worry for your well-being grew tenfold, but he gathered the willpower to overcome the sudden surge of emotions he was feeling.

"I want... I need you to promise me you'll never harm yourself again," He looked down at you, cradled in his arms, "I don't think I could ever bear the pain of losing you..."

He knew this was only one step of many. That it doesn't start like this. That it grows. Although he couldn't pinpoint what might've started it, he at least needed to confirm you'd be safe. He just needed this one thing to give his already worn heart a little bit of ease.

You couldn't help but recoil a bit, bringing your arms to hug your torso. As much as you wanted it to be that easy, as much as you wanted to tell your father 'okay!', you knew it wouldn't be done so fast. And in a way, that only worsened your resentment towards yourself.

"I... don't know if I can.." You avoided his gaze as you faced the ground, hating how saddened he was and much rather preferring him to be angry. It'd lessen the guilt a little bit, at least.

He needed something.

"[Name]... I can't make you promise me you'll be able to stop right away. That's foolish to believe." Heaving out a sigh, he put a hand atop your head. "But I just need you to know that I'd be devastated without you. I can truly say from the bottom of my heart, I'd never be able to live a normal life again if you were gone."

Looking up into his eyes, you saw a heaviness that swirled in them. This was coming from a man who had seen it all - numerous deaths in ways he wished he could unsee.

You hadn't realized just how much you meant to him. It never popped up in your head. The all-consuming void had blocked any sensibility or logic from getting to you, and the more you thought about it, the more you realized just how much it would affect your father. He always told you your pain was his to deal with too.

Settling your face in the crook of his neck so you wouldn't have to see the hurt in his eyes anymore, you tried your best to explain everything to him.

"It feels..." Closing your eyes, you tried imagining everything that has built up. "Like I'm running a race, yet getting nowhere. That everything I do has no effect... I'm tired."

You stayed silent as you felt your father put a hand on the back of your head. Aizawa watched as you carefully pieced your words together, and saw the true effect of everything you had been dealing with. His heart ached to relieve you of your pain, his fatherly instincts screaming at him to help save his child.

"[Name]." His grip on you tightened ever so slightly. "I want you to get this through your head, alright? You are not a failure. You're going through a lot, and it's weighing down on you. And I understand you're under a lot of pressure, but-"

Aizawa was cut off when he began to choke up, the thoughts too much for him to bear. As much as he tried to keep his composure for your sake, his walls were beginning to crack.

You heard your father pause and looked up at him, only to be brought into shock at the sight of your normally stoic father tearing up. You felt ashamed for forgetting about his pain, tearing up once more at the guilt that ravaged your mind.

He could see how surprised you were, but he couldn't help it. He always struggled to contain himself when it came to you, especially whenever you were hurt. He hated seeing you in pain.

"Do you have any idea what it would do to me if I lost you? I- ... [Name], if anything happened to you, I don't know what I'd do anymore, I'd-"

He truly couldn't help it. All that Aizawa wanted was for you to be happy. Seeing you in so much agony... seeing your only escape being to harm yourself... He felt that he lost a part of himself.

You cried out loud this time, seeing your father so torn over you. It was heartbreaking, but oddly soothing at the same time. To have someone to deeply care about you that they felt intertwined with you. He cared.

You could feel his arms engulfing you, and you allowed yourself to be swallowed in his hold. It was warm and soothing... A stark contrast to the cold you constantly couldn't escape from.

As he held you, Aizawa couldn't help but be more shocked at himself than anyone. He normally was able to easily retain his composure, so as he felt tears flowing down his face he couldn't help but stiffen. Quickly getting over it, he held you close. The room gradually began to get quieter, the both of your emotions slowing down.

You couldn't help but feel... Secure. It was a stark contrast to the constant void you felt. You felt... Warm.

Yeah, warm.

It was a nice feeling.

Closing your eyes, you finally allowed your body to relax. Aizawa rubbed your back as he gently rocked back and forth.

"I just want you to breath. Don't think about anything else."

Following his word, you kept your eyes closed and settled your breathing. You quickly noticed how much easier it was to think this way. Nothing else was getting in the way, no unwanted thoughts or fears, and you felt safe. Safe and comfortable.

The world around you normally was so chaotic. It seemed everyone was in a rush, always somewhere to be. You couldn't have time to yourself either, constantly getting pushed to and fro. There never seemed to be a place to stop. Nowhere to rest. An unchanging race.

But here you were. The world has stopped, giving you a break you so badly needed. You couldn't describe it, but such a simple hug from your father seemed to dull everything that pained you.

"I understand what it's like."

Aizawa would be lying if he said he was never in your place before. Too many nights he was kept up, worrying about working on himself. Scared of the changing future. Feeling like nothing was changing for him while the world moved on. It was isolating.

Over the years, he got better. The world's rush blurred to background noise, and he learned to appreciate his own speed in life. It was his own life he was living, after all.

Looking down at you, he saw a mirror image of himself.

"Y'know, it's not fair..." You looked up at him as he brushed away a lone tear from your cheek with the pad of his thumb. "You allow me to laugh with you in your happiest moments... So why do you lock me out when you're at your lowest?"

You had never heard it phrased like that before. You did enjoy having him around whenever you had something good to share. Whenever you were proud, or amazed, or just plain happy. But you understood, he wanted to be a part of it all. Every smile... And every tear.

Your voice couldn't find you, but Aizawa didn't mind. To you, he was always a hand outstretched. A guide to help you through the fog and the dark. It made the terrifying a little less daunting.

"Please talk to me when you can. Tell me whatever you'd like, I just want to know how you're feeling."

You nodded, looking at him directly. Your heart rate had gone down significantly, and you didn't know how much time had passed. If you listened carefully, you could hear the distance rumble of an oncoming storm, thunder booming on the horizon.

There was a pregnant pause before he started once more.

"Tomorrow, we'll need to get your injuries looked over-"

Seeing a look of fear cross your expression, he was quick to calm you.

"I'll be with you. The entire time. You won't have to deal with living life alone. I understand it's frightening to look at, but let me hold some of the weight you own."

You watched as Aizawa stretched out his hand, offering it to you. Looking at it, you thought back to all the times he'd helped you in the past. Every time he's offered his hand out to you.

All the times you were too scared to cross the road when you were little. Every time you felt too suffocated by the number of people surrounding you. Or even when it was just the two of you, silently walking home together in the warm afternoon sun.

He always offered you support, for every little thing life had to throw at you. Aizawa's expression softened when you gently put your hand in his, no hesitation in your movements.

Clasping his fingers over yours, you saw how your hands intertwined. And you realized, he was always there to take some of the pain from you - acting like he was a part of you.

"You get it now, huh?" Looking up into his eyes one more time, you thought you saw a sparkle in them. "Whenever you bring pain to yourself," He squeezed your hand a little tighter, "you're hurting me right alongside with you. I need you in one piece, kid."

You breathed out, everything a little clearer now. There was so much more to do. So much to go through. It was a formidable thought.

But as you looked up into your father's eyes and as you felt his hand in yours, you realized;

You weren't alone.

You really did owe him the world.

During my lowest moments, Aizawa was always a huge character I relied on to get me through it. I will always write comfort for him to anyone who asks.

I hope you have a lovely day, and I hope things get just a little easier for you, you definitely deserve it (*´艸`)ﾌﾌﾌｯ♡

➜ Please let me know if I missed any warnings/triggers in the tags or in the opening!

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