#my brother and his brother from another mother who might have been connected to him at the ass at birth (now my adopted brother) are taking | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

miryum · 4 months

Text

A Green and Silver Ring (Mattheo Riddle x Reader)

An arranged marriage between you and Mattheo, one that might lead to something beautiful

Word Count: 10.3k

I know I haven't posted in a long time but I have a plan trust the process. Also, this is me coming out and saying that I love Mattheo Riddle and he's amazing

Warnings: Swearing, bad and manipulative parenting from both Mattheo and reader’s parents, a lot of misogyny (a bit from Mattheo but he gets better by a lot and it’s not that bad), arguments, Tom isn’t Mattheo’s brother and Tom is a creep, arranged marriage, one bed trope, enemies to lovers, greek mythology reference, talk of kids, needing kids to carry on family lines, and kids. Mistress is the feminine term for master (so reader isn’t Mattheo’s side piece when I refer to her as mistress), old timey talk a bit, reader is a bookworm

From the desk of Ginevra

My dearest friend,

My parents have informed me of your engagement. I was ecstatic, yet surprised, when I heard the news. I was of the assumption that your parents were allowing you to choose your husband as your family line is secure in your brother and his wife. Yet, once I learned who your husband-to-be is, I was trepidatious.

My thoughts are with you, my darling friend, and I pray for you to write to me the moment you get my letter.

I hate to break the news, but you and your fiancé are the talk of high society. Never before have two such families been intertwined. Even I have had to scold my brothers for their gossip. They seem to forget that our families are close friends.

I do not ask why your parents have made such a decision. I know they are intelligent adults and surely must have a motive, but I admit that I am blind in that regard. Your engagement seems sudden and unwarranted to me. When questioned, my mother sighed and said I would understand when I grew older. My mother continues to baffle me. I have borne two children and a third on the way! If I am not mature now, I better gain some knowledge quickly.

Always remember that I am by your side. If you ever need anything, my door is always open to you. I am sure Harry will agree.

I love you, my friend.

Ginny

From the office of Lorenzo

Miss. L/n,

I believe we’ve never been formally introduced. I’m saddened to say that this letter is as formal as we’ll get - at least until your wedding. I am sure you must be taciturn and mercurial as of now. My father has told me much about you and I believe we’ll make excellent friends and confidants in our hectic world.

You’re to be my new half-sister, aren’t you? My relatives and friends are petulant to meet you.

Before any rumours (either about myself or your fiancé) hit your ears, I’ll put a rest to them. Bellatrix, your fiancé’s mother, had an affair with my father. They produced me and in return, I have the privilege of being your fiancé’s half-brother.

Being a bastard child, I’m no stranger to being ostracised and ridiculed. To be blunt, I’m sure that you will be ostracised alongside me and I believe that is one reason we can connect.

For rumours of my half-brother, I simply say this: do not fear him. He relishes in the consternation he places in other people, yet when he heard he was to marry you, I saw panic in his eyes like no other. It seems the tables have turned. He is hesitant to be wed, but you are not the problem. He simply doesn’t want to have the responsibility of another’s life on his. Your fiancé is used to belittling people - not supporting them as a husband should.

Any questions you have about your fiancé and my half-brother (whom in case I didn’t make clear, are one and the same), refer to me without any qualms. I am eager to meet you and hopefully make your transition into the Riddle family smoother.

I am well aware you have also lived your life in the upper echelons of society. But, as I’m sure you know, there are multiple circles in our complicated community. The L/ns, the Weasleys, and the Potters, for example, have grown their fortunes truthfully and innocently. They have earned the respect of their people and those whom they employ. The Riddles, Blacks, and Berkshires, on the other hand, have climbed the ranks in unconventional means and by skipping a few rungs on the ladder. They thrive and make their living on the terror and duress they cause those under them.

I’m looking forward to making your acquaintance.

Lorenzo Berkshire

P.S. I hope I haven’t scared you off.

From the office of L/n

Daughter,

You’ll be pleased to hear the engagement has gone through. Your mother and I met your fiancé last night. He seems like a nice man. He will be able to provide for you. His family is influential.

We will return home late tomorrow evening. You will depart for Riddle Estate in a week. Begin packing.

Your father

From the desk of Ginevra

Y/n,

You worry me with your lack of communication. Usually, you can’t wait to gossip with me. We have such fun at dinners and balls, yet with the most important aspect of yourself, you don’t respond. I’m simply worried, my friend. Are you alright? I can envision you curled in your bed, not letting anyone, even your nursemaid, into your room. Please do not let your impending marriage affect your state of health. It will turn out alright. Everyone I know (even me!) had apprehensions about their marriage. And with everyone I know, it turned out alright.

Misters Sirius and Remus visited Harry and I the day before last. They came to see James and Albus, but I know there was a hidden reason as well. They know of our friendship and came to ask if the rumours are true. As much as my husband adores them, Sirius in particular can be prone to gossip. The pair tittered and tsked when I told them of your fiancé. Sirius wishes to distance himself from his family, and I know he has pre-existing thoughts of the Black family, and by extension, the Riddles.

Sometimes I take a moment to gaze at the family tree upon my drawing room wall. It is full of interconnected lines and squiggles that sometimes, it makes my head hurt! The web of family ties is complicated and if we’re not somehow related already, I know that we will be once your marriage takes place. It seems the Black family spreads its roots into the Weasley family and the Riddle family- the latter of which you’ll soon be synonymous with.

Give yourself some grace. Your fiancé falls far from the tree; I am sure of it.

Please write to me. I need to make sure my closest friend is doing well.

Best wishes,

Ginny

P.S. Hermione wishes to inform you that, from what she’s heard, your Mr. Riddle is quite attractive. I have yet to hear any of the rumours myself, but at least your husband will be pleasing to the eye. Perhaps it will make the marriage more bearable.

***

Mattheo strode leisurely through Riddle Manor. It was one of the many estates his family owned, and it was soon to be officially his. Just as soon as he married the L/n girl.

The manor was spacious, which Mattheo couldn’t help but detest. How was he and a wife supposed to fill this void of empty rooms and dark halls? He knew servants and cooks would move in, but they wouldn’t occupy the dozens of upper rooms that were vacated.

For a brief moment, Mattheo couldn’t help but envision a set of children running around the halls. One of the children would run up to him, shouting, “Papa! Papa!” Mattheo would scoop the child up, grinning, and would carry them to their room. The room would be bright and cheerful, and maybe, just maybe, you would be sitting on a settee, cradling a newborn or helping an older child with their school work.

But for now, the room was dark and uninviting and he had yet to meet his future wife. He had seen a portrait of the L/n family and while they were in lavish, colourful clothing, Mr. and Mrs. L/n seemed cold and stoic - just like his parents. The children, an older son and younger daughter (whom he presumed to be you), seemed kinder and by their body language, Mattheo could tell that the two siblings were close.

Mattheo slowly made his way down the hall. There were three wings of the manor; two were residential and the other was designed for taking guests. The East Wing - in which he and Miss. L/n would stay - was also fit with an office for him. He was expected to take over half of the family business once he got married. The West Wing would remain empty for now, sans for a large library and the furniture in the bedrooms.

The boy knew that his bride was to arrive later that day. She would stay at Riddle Estate until the end of the week. Just three short days before they were to be wed in name. Mattheo would move into Riddle Manor tonight, giving servants time to wipe the dust off of tables, shine the silverware, and fluff the pillows.

Mattheo walked the halls of his new home. His mind was devoid of any thoughts. Perhaps it was simply because he was always numb. Even when he heard of his engagement, Mattheo didn’t make a fuss. He didn’t remember thinking anything. Nothing such as ‘Oh, I can’t wait to meet her!’ or even, ‘I can’t believe mother and father are arranging my marriage! She better be obedient.’

No, Mattheo had thought nothing of the sort. He had spent his childhood quietly observing his father and mother, noticing the amount of fear they could inflict on people just by silence. You didn’t have to be loud and dramatic to be powerful. You simply couldn’t be afraid to follow up on your promises - however deadly they were.

The only question Mattheo had asked when Bellatrix informed him of his engagement was, “and what do we gain from the L/n’s?”

Bellatrix had shot him an callous and apathetic look. “Do not ask questions you needn’t the answers to, boy.”

Mattheo had glowered, but shut his mouth.

As he neared the foyer, Mattheo couldn’t help but think how marriage was a component in all aspects of his life. When he got married to the L/n girl, he would inherit a portion of his father’s estates, company, and wealth. Mattheo chucked to himself. Maybe he should’ve gotten married sooner.

***

“Pray tell, why weren’t you here when she arrived?” Bellatrix snarled as she gripped Mattheo’s arm. Her nails dug into his suit as she dragged him towards the drawing room.

“I was busy,” Mattheo replied harshly. Love was not a thing that came instinctively to his family.

“Doing what? Planning your suidide?” Bellatrix scoffed. “I would march to the Underworld and choke Hades to bring you back.” Mattheo glanced down at his mother, hesitantly surprised. But he knew better than to raise his hopes and dreams. “We need this contract with the L/n’s,” Bellatrix continued and Mattheo’s jaw ticked. Of course. She didn’t love him; she never had. Her son was purely business. He should’ve known better.

“Maybe if you would tell me what the L/n’s provide for us,” Mattheo pulled Bellatrix back before she threw open the door to where you were. “Then I would be more complacent.”

Bellatrix sneered. “You think you’re smart, boy. You think you have everything figured out in that pretty little head of yours. But remember: you’re nothing without the Riddle family name backing you up.” She paused and licked her lips. “But if you must know,” Bellatrix sighed, giving into Mattheo. “The L/n’s just came into some very… lucrative land that we could gain from if you marry Miss. Y/n L/n.”

Mattheo’s eyes flickered to the drawing room door. After a moment, he asked, “is that her name? Y/n?”

Bellatrix stared at him, aghast. “You didn’t bother to learn her name?!” She scoffed. “With a son like you…”

She pushed open the drawing room doors and Mattheo trudged after her, muttering, “at least I know her name now.”

You had been waiting for seven minutes and thirty nine seconds in the drawing room of Riddle Estate, the trackage of time dependent on the old grandfather clock standing ominously in the corner. Its pendulum swung back and forth continuously as its second hand ticked by. Mrs. Riddle had left seven minutes and thirty nine seconds ago to fetch her son.

While the room was perfectly clean, not a speck of dust on even the highest chandelier, it was still a cold and morose room, yet oddly epochal. The wood was the darkest mahogany you had ever seen and the lights cast odd shadows on the dark green wallpaper that had inlays of gold.

Your teacup that you were trying to hold steady was filled with a sad excuse for tea. There was a ring of gold around the mouth of the teacup. On the table beside you, a notch that looked as if someone dug a knife into the surface caught your attention. It was the little things like this that you noticed when you had nothing else to do. Your mind was trying to distract you.

The door then swung open and there stood your fiancé, his stare daring you to oppose him.

“Uh,” you stood, your teacup and saucer still in hand. You quickly placed them on the table, right over the knife nick. “Y/n L/n,” you introduced yourself. You bowed your head in an informal curtsy.

Mattheo’s eyes flickered over your face. “Mattheo Riddle,” he said coldly. His voice was practically velvet. You didn’t mean to look him up and down, but you couldn’t help it. He was to be your husband, after all.

Mattheo’s hair coiled at the end and his eyes were just as dark as his curls. His nose had a scarred cut on it that looked as if it was just beginning to heal. Your fiancés cheekbones were practically sculpted from marble and for a moment, you believed that the gods had simply breathed life into a statue. Did this make you Pygmalion and Mattheo Galatea?

If it weren’t for their lethal eyes and stern posture, perhaps more would be friendly to the Riddles.

Mattheo spoke, “you’re to be my fiancée.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes.” You had the urge to add ‘sir’ at the end, but you bit your tongue.

Bellatrix hissed something to Mattheo and thrust a small object into his hands. Mattheo rolled his eyes and stalked towards you. “My family ring,” he grumbled. He held out an intricate silver ring with three bands interweaving. A green jewel cut into a thin diamond shape sat steadily in the middle. “It has been in the Riddle family for generations. It’s tradition to pass it down to the wife of the firstborn son. And now that is you…”

He trailed off and handed the ring to you, it laying flat on his palm. You took it from him, trying to minimise contact with Mattheo. You nodded in thanks and slid it into your ring finger.

It seemed too concrete to fathom.

Mattheo stared at the ring on your finger. A muscle jumped in his jaw. “My… wife,” he murmured halfheartedly.

***

Three weeks had passed since the wedding and it was as if you had never gotten married in the first place. Yes, it was unsettling to wake up in a bed that wasn’t your own next to a man that you were supposed to call your own. But other than necessary, Mattheo had hardly uttered a word to you.

In the three weeks you had stayed there, you had seen Mattheo a total of twenty eight times, including mornings and nights when you were forced to sleep in the same bed.

Your mornings, afternoons, and nights were all incredibly boring. You took long meals, pushing your food around. Sometimes you just sat by the window and watched the wind blow bits of grass and dirt past the window. The servants were still extracting the dust between the couch cushions and you tried to stay out of the way, but it only made you feel more isolated.

Mattheo was holed up in his office day in and day out. He had now inherited a large portion of his father’s company and Mattheo was determined to uphold the honour bestowed upon him. He had drafted contracts, sold and bought land, and even hosted a few dinner parties for his associates.

You detested the dinner parties. Thankfully, Mattheo had yet to invite you to one - hell, he had yet to speak to you about the dinner parties. You had learned of the first dinner party when you had wandered downstairs one late evening because you were thirsty. You had stared at the group of strangers, all dressed in elegance, as they stared back at you in your night clothes. Not saying a word, you had sighed and returned upstairs.

You hadn’t been eager for the marriage, but wouldn't it befit Mattheo to show some affection? Or at least acknowledge your presence?

While you had continuously tried to get your husband to open up to you, his answers had been short and venomous.

It had been a long, monotonous day for you. You had returned to the master bedroom about two hours earlier than you normally would have if you were at home.

With the wealth that you came from, the opulence was sure to be evident, but you had underestimated the Riddle family’s prestige. When Mattheo had first shown you your shared bedroom, you had to allow a flicker of surprise break through your facade. The bedroom was larger than any room in your old home and had a large bed in the middle. The lamps on the bedside table were always dimly lit and the design of the room was the same as the rest of the house - dark and bereft of love and care.

Your hair had been brushed enough, but you kept brushing simply for something to do while Mattheo finished up in the bathroom. Mattheo walked out of the ensuite with a towel wrapped around his waist. His curls were plastered to his forehead and a bead of water ran down his sternum.

Your eyes flickered to his figure through the mirror, taking in the dips and curves of Mattheo’s muscles as he silently got ready for bed. You tore your gaze away, berating yourself.

You built up your courage and tried to think of a conversation starter. You commented, “my parents wrote to me today.” After no reply from Mattheo, you continued, “they asked me when we would give them grandchildren.” You set your hairbrush down and stared at Mattheo through the mirror, looking for some sort of reaction.

Mattheo hummed noncommittally and put on some sleep pants. He used his towel to begin drying his hair. “It would be behoove us to produce some heirs,” he spoke. His tone was dismissive, as if children were nothing more than an obligation or duty to fulfil.

“Right,” you muttered, knowing that an uninterested reaction was all you were going to get out of him.

You stood and moved towards the bed. “Goodnight,” you whispered, turning off the bedside lamp and tucking yourself into bed. Mattheo was still putting on his nightclothes and had yet to get into bed.

As you turned off the light and got into bed, Mattheo finished drying himself off and slid into his own pyjamas. He sat down beside you, but didn't bother turning off his own lamp. Instead, he laid against the headboard, reading a book. "Goodnight," he finally mumbled, not even looking at you.

You curled into your blanket. After a moment, you asked quietly, “what book are you reading?”

He looked at you over the top of his book. "None of your business," he replied curtly.

You simply uttered, “okay.”

Mattheo felt an unwanted and unusual feeling root itself deep in his stomach. He scoffed and said sarcastically, "fine. Go ahead and keep asking questions all night long if it amuses you so." He opened his book again and pretended to read.

A longing and lonely pang resonated in your chest at his harsh words. You didn’t respond and instead turned your face into your pillow. You had known that your marriage was to be loveless, but it still hurt at every unspoken word. Perhaps, if you had been five years younger when you married Mattheo, your spirit would still be alive with the juvenile belief that you could stand up to him.

Mattheo huffed and his gaze turned up to stare at the wall ahead of him. “If you’re so miserable, then why don’t you just leave?” he snapped, not even bothering to hide his bitterness. “I am sure your family would simply love to have you back.” He flipped another page in his book, not even bothering to look at the printed words.

“I never said I was miserable,” you answered quietly, even though Mattheo knew it wasn’t true. Perhaps, though, you believed it to be true. You took a steadying breath, closing your eyes.

Your husband smirked and leaned against the headboard. “What do you call your attitude, then? Why are you so downtrodden and defeated? Surely, you can’t blame me for being frustrated by it.” He knew that he should be taking account of making you feel this way, but he still tried to justify his behaviour.

“Goodnight,” you reiterated.

Mattheo sighed dramatically. “Whatever,” he grunted. He closed his book, threw it on the nightstand, and turned off his lamp. The room was encased in darkness except for the dim moonlight coming through the window. He shifted towards the edge of the bed, making sure a noticeable gap was between the two of you.

He thought back to your conversation. “Why don’t you just leave?”

It was too late now to apologise.

***

Mattheo let the door swing shut behind him, returning to Riddle Manor after an outing with friends. He glanced around, waiting for a servant to take his coat, but no one answered. An eyebrow cocked, Mattheo slowly walked up the stairs, hearing you instruct the servants on something, every other sentence of yours either containing, ‘please’ or ‘thank you’. Up on the landing, he found you directing a servant who was pulling a rack of your clothing. “What the hell are you doing?” he demanded. “Have you lost your damn mind? Are you trying to send a message or something?”

“You’ve made it perfectly clear that you have no interest in me, so I’m trying to make this marriage as civilised as possible,” you said diplomatically. “I believe that if I move to the West Wing and leave you in the East Wing, it will benefit our marriage.”

“What exactly do you hope to accomplish with this piteous attempt at attention?” he asked rhetorically. “Do you think it’ll make me want you more?” He stuck his tongue in his cheek, grinning incredulously. “You’re delusional if you think that’s even remotely possible.” He stepped closer to you, towering over you with anger in his eyes. “This is not some game, L/n. This is marriage. You’re stuck with me whether you like it or not.”

“I’m aware that we’re married, Riddle,” you retorted. “And don’t refer to me by L/n anymore. I am now a Riddle - just like you. However, I am not going to live in a state of constant sorrow and dejection. Having a wing of the mansion to myself may help.”

Mattheo’s jaw tightened as he stared at you, irritated by your resistance. “Fine,” he growled. “But don’t expect me to come running after you when you decide you want attention. You’re on your own now.” He turned away from you and walked into his now solo bedroom. “Just remember - this is your choice.”

You felt your anger inflate. “I thought you would like this!” Your voice rose and you tugged a hand through your hair. It was the first time in your marriage that you had fought back. “I have done everything I can to please you, yet nothing is enough for you!” Your voice turned desperate. “What do you want from me?”

He stopped in his tracks, turning around with surprise and disgust on his face. “Dammit, Y/n! Don’t yell at me like that!” His voice thundered, stepping towards you. “I never asked for any of this! I didn’t ask for a wife or for you to try so hard to please me! All of this is ridiculous.” His hand slashed through the air to make a point. “All I want is some space. Space to figure out what the hell I want. But let’s make one thing clear: I don’t care about you.”

“Am I not giving you space?” Your fists clenched at your sides. “I am moving out of the bedroom and out of your way. Yet, you erupt at me and get angry over nothing! You send me mixed messages and I don’t know what to do.”

Mattheo took a breath, trying to regain control over his emotions. “I am not erupting! Lord, you are so sensitive!” he snapped, running a hand over his face. “Can’t you listen for once? I am not sending you mixed signals. I am trying to figure out my place in this unorthodox situation we’re in.”

After a beat of silence, you asked firmly, “did you talk about me?” After seeing a flicker of confusion on his face, you clarified, “when you were out with your friends, did you talk about me? Did you rant about how annoying I was? Did you complain about marriage?”

His lips parted before taking a breath. “Yes, I talked about you,” he admitted begrudgingly. “I complained about how frustrating I find you and how frustrated I am with my parents for arranging this senseless marriage.”

“What did they say?” you insisted. “Did they sympathise? Did they laugh at me? Did they add fuel to your fire by commenting about how… how ‘needy’ and ‘sensitive’ I am?”

Mattheo made a low sound in his chest and rubbed his temples, frustrated by your persistence. “They agreed with me, yes. A few believed that you are too emotionally attached and sentimental. Others chalked it up to the pains of an average marriage.”

Your anger flared up and you said, “Let me tell you this: I never wanted marriage either. But I at least tried. I tried to be a nice and loving wife and a kind human.” You turned on your heel, marching out of the bedroom and towards the West Wing.

Mattheo watched you go, an unwanted feeling of guilt washing over him. He sighed and walked over to the window. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. “Why is everything so damn complicated?”

For the next couple of weeks, you stayed true to your word. You avoided Mattheo and his office and stayed in your wing of the mansion. After a week or two, you decided to explore the mansion, stumbling upon a magnificent library. You inhaled in veneration when someone cleared their throat. Mattheo stood behind you, raising an brow. After a silence, you said recalcitrantly, “you never told me that Riddle Manor had a library.”

He smirked at your thinly veiled hatred, amused despite himself. “Well, now you know,” he said dryly. “It’s a perk of living in a Riddle household.” He walked over to a bookshelf and began browsing for a book he required for a contract that was being drafting. He showed no sign of embarrassment or discomfort at your presence. “You may use it whenever you want. But don’t expect me to join a book club or anything juvenile.”

“I would never dream of it,” you said sarcastically. You step further into the library and can’t help but gape at the vastness. You trailed your fingers over the book spines, breathing in the smell of old books. You crouched down to examine a series of poetry titles. “I can read any of these?” you asked hesitantly.

He nodded and leaned against the shelf behind him, crossing his arms over his chest. “Feel free to read whatever you would like. They’re here for the entire household. Well, the servants don’t have time to read books, so in a Riddle household, the parents and children use the library the most.” Your hand faltered over the titles. “If you find something that catches your eye, go ahead and take it. I won’t stop you.” There was a hint of curiosity in his voice, as if he wished to know what topics and books piqued your interest. You hummed quietly, not fully acknowledging his words. You were already picking up a book and leafing through it. Mattheo watched you for a moment, his eyes softening briefly.

Everyday, you returned to the library. It was an escape from the walls of your room and the walls that Mattheo had put up around his heart.

Eventually, the servants recognised your routine and began to start a fire in the fireplace to keep you warm. They moved a loveseat in front of the fire that you gratefully used. You devoured the poetry collection, including Shakespeare and Edgar Allen Poe, and started on the classics. Every once in a while, Mattheo would come into the library, but he wouldn’t talk. He simply took a book and returned to his study. Sometimes, you wondered if he remembered you lived in the mansion with him.

Mattheo found himself frequenting the library more often, looking for books he had never needed before. A swell of pride filled him whenever he saw you by the fire, knowing that something in his home brought you such comfort. He still refused to speak to you, maintaining distance and ignoring your existence, but he found himself increasingly drawn to your presence.

One day, on a whim, he decided to take a risk and left a stack of his favourite books on the table next to your chair. That afternoon, you found the stack of books. You smiled despite yourself, though you didn't make any comment to Mattheo. You picked up the first book, sat down in the chair, and began to read.

A week later, Mattheo was hosting a dinner party for his associates. He didn’t say a word about it to you, though you heard the servants preparing for it. You decided not to go, opting to stay in your safe haven of the library.

After an hour or so of faint music, you heard the door to the library squeak open and your head whipped up. You saw one of Mattheo’s friends, Tom, enter and look around. He spotted you and his lips curled up into a smirk. “So you’re the wife we’ve heard so much about?”

Your stomach clenched and you replied, “I guess so.”

Tom’s smirk grew wider as he took in your terse response, enjoying your obvious discomfort. He approached you with a lecherous gaze in his eyes before asking, “and how do you find life as Mrs. Riddle? Are you enjoying your… arrangement?” His words dripped with sarcasm, not believing for a moment that you and Mattheo were married for love.

You stared at him. “It has its perks,” you said simply.

Tom laughed derisively at your response, not convinced by your nonchalance. “And what are those perks?” he asked, moving closer to you. “Extravagant gifts? Luxurious vacations? Or simply the privilege of being married to such a powerful man?”

You squared your shoulders. “I am powerful without a man,” you said sharply. “I do not need a man to determine my worth and prowess.”

Tom scoffed. “Really? How exactly did you become powerful on your own?” he asked, challenging you. “I find it hard to believe that you could ever achieve anything significant without the backing of a powerful husband behind you.” He leaned in closer, grinning.

You closed your book with a snap. “The L/n family,” you said, talking of your maiden lineage, “has had control over many estates and affairs for decades. Without Mattheo Riddle, I would’ve inherited half of it, second only to my brother. I would’ve had four auspicious companies at my ready disposal, capable of doing most anything. So, yes, sir, I would have been momentous without him.”

Tom’s smirk faded as he recognised your family name. He remained undeterred, however, stating, “that explains why your husband was so eager to marry you. He must see you as a valuable asset to his business empire.”

As you opened your mouth to retort, the door banged open and Mattheo strode into the library.

Mattheo had noticed Tom’s absence from his party, but when it became too long to be excused as a restroom break, Mattheo had asked his brother, Enzo, if he had seen where he had gone. Enzo had smiled a small smile and whispered, “Tom went to the library. Where your darling wife stays hidden.”

Mattheo saw red.

He barged into the library, a deadly, lethal, and borderline possessive look deep in his eyes. When he saw Tom flanking you, Mattheo’s expression darkened and his hands clenched into a ready fist. “What the hell are you doing here?” Mattheo demanded, his voice low and dangerous. “This is a private wing of my home - not some place for you to bother my wife.”

Mattheo moved closer to you, placing himself between you and Tom as if to protect you from further harm.

Tom quickly stepped back and placed a confident demeanour on his face. “I was simply having a conversation with your lovely wife here,” Tom gritted his teeth.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, showing clearly that Tom was lying and intruding. You saw Mattheo’s eyes flicker down to you, his eyes softening reassuringly before snapping back to Tom, malice in his gaze.

“Don’t lie to me,” Mattheo snapped at Tom. “There’s no need for any sort of interaction or conversation with my wife unless I am present.” Mattheo placed a hand on the top of your chair, his fingers gripping it and his bicep flexing slightly to warn Tom.

Tom’s eyes flicked with something you hadn’t seen before: fear. Fear commonly associated with the Riddle name. He adjusted his collar and straightened his posture. “Of course, Mr. Riddle,” he said bitterly.

You raised a brow. “I think it’s time for you to go now,” you said, your face stoic. Tom bowed his head slightly before exiting the library. You didn’t look up to meet Mattheo’s eye. You murmured, “you didn’t have to do that. I had it covered.”

Mattheo watched Tom until he completely left the room before turning to look down on you. His voice was threatening, “you may have been able to handle Tom, but I won’t tolerate anyone disrespecting or harassing you while you’re under my roof. Consider this a warning - if anyone tries to cross you again, they will regret it.”

“Perhaps you should tell your coworkers that. Not me,” you replied.

Mattheo’s expression was cold. “Fine. I will,” he growled. “I will not sit idly by and allow anyone to disrespect my wife.” He let go of your chair and adjusted the cuffs of his suit. As if in a business meeting, he said, “And consider this another warning: if you continue to act so stubbornly, I won’t hesitate to remind you of your place in this marriage.”

“My place in this marriage is your wife!” you cried out, finally standing up. “Your equal! Something you seem to forget until it’s convenient for you. Or until another man threatens your… your property! I doubt you see me any differently than this house or your assets.”

Mattheo grabbed onto your arm tightly, pulling you close and leaning down so his face was inches from yours. “Do not ever speak to me like that. You are not my equal - you are my wife and I decide what is best for both of us. If you cannot accept that, then you should reconsider your place in this marriage.” He released your arm and turned away from you, striding towards the door. “I suggest you reflect on your behaviour,” he added icily, leaving the room without looking back.

After he left the library, you let out a scream of frustration. You shoved the pile of books that Mattheo had carefully curated to the floor. They tumbled down, book after book, covers opening and pages bending. Tears pricked at your eyes as you examined the scene.

You slumped into your chair, the fire in front of your crackling softly, emitting a calming warmth.

Eventually, you fell asleep in the chair, tear stains on your cheeks. In the morning, you woke to the serene morning light filtering into the room - a vast contrast to your mood. The fire had dissolved into crackling embers. Tucked on top of you was a thick blanket and the stack of books that you had pushed over had been re-piled and stood majestically atop the table.

You sighed, knowing you should thank the servants for taking care of you and cleaning up.

After you walked to the kitchen, your footfalls heavy, you thanked the servants, who were finishing preparing breakfast. They exchanged glances and one piped up, “Ma’am, while we appreciate the sentiment, we didn’t do that. We weren’t aware that you were still in the library. We believed you had retired to bed before the social last night.” They paused and then added, “however, Mr. Riddle didn’t go to bed. He was in his study until morning light.”

“Oh,” was all you could say. You bid them an awkward goodbye before entering the dining hall.

Mattheo was already seated at the head of the table, his expression exhausted and distant. He didn’t acknowledge you when you approached, focusing instead on the uneaten plate of food in front of him.

You sat down opposite him and muttered, “the servants informed me that you blanketed me last night and cleaned up the books.” You hesitated and finally said, “thank you.”

Mattheo looked up briefly, his expression unreadable, but he didn’t respond directly. “It was necessary,” he said simply. “You should not be cold and uncomfortable in your own home.” He doesn’t make any effort to engage in conversation beyond that. Something was weighing heavily on his mind and he seemed preoccupied by it.

You hummed in response. Eventually, you stood and whispered to your husband before walking out, “you are not as cold as you want to seem. You needn’t keep the facade up with me.”

Mattheo looked up briefly before returning to his food. His expression relaxed, but he didn’t respond.

***

Later that day, Mattheo sat in his study as he always did. A knock came from the door and he glanced at the clock. It was a bit early for lunch to be delivered, but he announced, “come in.”

The door creaked open and your head peeked into the room. Mattheo’s brows furrowed - not with malice, but with scrutiny. You entered and sat in one of the two seats next to his fireplace. Silently, you cracked open a book you had brought and began to read.

Mattheo watched you intently, his gaze never wavering as he took in every detail of your face. He tried to find any acrimonious intent behind your actions, but you looked so peaceful. He found himself noticing the details of your face and your beauty as the fire cast warm highlights on your eyes. “What are you doing?” he asked eventually, his voice holding an armour of needed suspicion.

“Reading,” you said simply.

Mattheo frowned, not convinced by your answer. Why would you read in his study after the way he had been treating you? He leaned back in his chair, his work forgotten. “Isn’t there something more important that you could be occupying your time with?” he challenged.

“Not particularly,” you responded. “You’re in charge of the companies and estates. I have nothing to do. I thought I would accompany you. You must get lonely in a study by yourself.”

Mattheo narrowed his eyes, but ultimately nodded slowly. “Alright,” he agreed after a moment. “But don’t think I will stop working simply because my wife is here.” His posture grew taut as he began looking over documents again. “This is still my office and I expect you to behave accordingly.”

“I’m simply reading,” you murmured, a smile inching its way up your lips.

Henceforth, a routine was established. Every morning, you would knock on Mattheo’s study door, usually an hour or so after he began working. There was rarely conversation, the silence being broken by Mattheo’s scratch of a quill or you turning pages, occasionally being disrupted by the loud crack of a log in the fire.

One day, you had finished your book (it was an excellent book, one from the pile Mattheo had recommended) and stood to go retrieve another one. At the sound of your footsteps leaving his office, Mattheo’s head darted up and he suddenly asked, “where are you going?”

You paused and turned back to him. “I’m to get a new book. Unfortunately, as wonderful as this one was, it had an ending like all books do.”

Mattheo frowned and a hint of vulnerability broke through his exterior. “Get a servant to do it,” he offered.

“Well, I don’t know which one I want,” you counted, raising a brow in a smirk.

He huffed and shook his head, returning his eyes to his documents. He grumbled, “I will commission the servants to build you a small bookshelf for my office. You can keep your books there.” You stood, watching him for a moment, admiring him until his gaze snapped up. “Well, go get your book,” he said sharply. “… but hurry back,” he added in a mumble.

You finally smiled at him before exiting and Mattheo gazed at the place you once stood, trying to memorise how your lips curled up and your eyes crinkled when you smiled.

He rather liked it when you smiled.

***

“Are you alright?”

You sniffed and laughed. “Yes, yes. I’m being foolish.” You wiped some tears from your eyes. “My book is very good.”

Mattheo chuckled lowly. “And what made you cry, hm?”

“A daughter and father interaction,” you replied quietly.

“Was the father cruel to the daughter?” Mattheo laughed tersely, shaking his head at his documents. “Are your feelings not strong enough to withstand their wrath?”

You frowned at Mattheo, setting the book down. “No,” you corrected slowly. “The father was being kind to his daughter. He was supporting her and loving her; as a father should.” There was a pause as Mattheo looked up at you. “I know that the Riddles are a harsher family - I’ve known ever since I knew I was to marry you. But… but are you alright?”

You felt absurd asking the question. Yet, when Mattheo couldn’t meet your eye, a wistful sadness blanketing the room, you felt as if you should’ve asked the simple question weeks earlier.

For a moment, he said nothing. Then Mattheo turned in his chair so his back was facing you. "I'm fine," he finally answered, his voice rough and strained. "I am used to dealing with it, I suppose." Despite his insistence that he didn't need anyone's pity or concern, your words seem to have affected him more deeply than he wanted to admit.

“May I ask a question?” you asked softly.

Mattheo hesitated for a moment before nodding, his eyes never leaving the window as he spoke. "Ask away," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. He then cleared his throat and said, "but I won’t give a warm and fuzzy answer."

There was a pregnant pause in the air as you gathered your courage up and suddenly thrust your fears upon your husband. “If we ever have children, which we’re somewhat expected to,” you added hurriedly. “I don’t want them to grow up in a household where they feel as if they have to vie for love or attention. And I don’t want me to be the only one giving them attention.” Mattheo turned his head so his face was angled toward you, but his eyes could still stray to the window if need be. “If we have kids, can you promise that you’ll love them? Even if you don’t love me?”

Even though your voice was steady, Mattheo knew of the vulnerability deeply rooted within you.

He nodded cautiously, his expression serious. "I promise," he said firmly. "I may not love you, but I will love our children unconditionally. They will never have to compete for my affection or feel neglected. I may not be a fond father, but I will provide for them and protect them as best I can." A protectiveness filled his veins just at the thought of something happening to his future children.

You nodded once, a sad smile on your face. “Perhaps we’ll have a big family. Enough children to start a sports team.” You smiled at the thought, laughing lightly.

Mattheo smiled, despite himself, imagining a large brood of children running around the manor. It was an oddly appealing idea, even if he wouldn't admit it out loud. "We'll see," he said noncommittally. "I'd rather have lots of sons; they'll carry on the family name and ensure my legacy continues." He turned back around and attempted to focus on his work.

“And daughters too.” You frowned, staring at your husband, even if he wouldn’t spare you a glance. “Daughters can carry on the family name just as well as sons.” A muscle in your jaw ticked.

Mattheo scowled at your defiance, his eyes narrowing slightly. Why hadn’t you just fallen into line? "Fine, daughters too," he reluctantly agrees. "But make no mistake, they will be raised to be strong and capable like their brothers. The Riddle name demands nothing less."

“And the sons can be soft and caring and sensitive,” you said firmly, crossing your arms. “I thought we agreed that they wouldn’t have to vie for affection. I thought we agreed that they wouldn’t have needless competition in their life. I don’t want them to grow up… like, well… you.” You finally uttered the words that had been hanging off your tongue dangerously.

Mattheo’s expression hardened as he clenched his fist tightly. "Fine!" he snapped. "They can be whatever the hell you want them to be! But don't expect me to sit back and watch while they become weaklings and failures. We need to teach them to be strong and ruthless like I am." He stood up abruptly, knocking over his chair in the process.

You jump up after him, crossing towards him. You whirled to a stop in front of him, jabbing a finger towards his chest. “Listen here, Riddle. Just because someone is kind and vulnerable doesn’t mean they’re weak!” You growled, “and just because you grew up like that, does not mean that’s the type of household I am going to have.”

Mattheo stepped forward and his hand flew up to grip your wrist. His eyes blazed with anger, but then something changed in his expression and he took a step back, looking surprised at his own reaction. "You're right," he admitted begrudgingly. "I shouldn't have assumed that being vulnerable meant being weak." He ran a hand through his hair, looking embarrassed, yet resolute in his decision. "But don't expect me to be a pushover either. I'll still teach them to be strong and independent."

“Strong and independent are good qualities,” you conceded. “Both for the boys and girls.”

"Agreed," he said. Mattheo straightened his cuffs and cleared his throat. "Our children will be taught to be strong and independent, regardless of gender. They will know that they are loved and valued by both of us, equally." He held out his hand to you, indicating that the argument was over - for now at least. "Deal?"

“Deal.” You shook his hand defiantly. It was a business deal, but a good deal at least.

Mattheo exhaled and brushed past you. “I’m to a meeting,” he informed you. It was a simple comment , one that was an offhand remark, but to you, Mattheo had just let you into his life. It was something he had never done before. Even if it was just a response to where he was off to, it was a window into his life. A life that now may have enough room to hold you.

Mattheo paused when he reached the door. “I never knew the way I grew up was wrong until I saw other families. I saw the parents bending down to listen to their children instead of hushing them. I saw parents comforting their children after scraped knees, not pushing them to the kitchen for some rubbing alcohol. I saw parents beaming when their child could plunk out the simplest of tunes on the piano. No one else got berated for being out of rhythm or playing a D instead of an E. I never saw another child get slapped by their parents or scolded as harshly as I was. It was around then I realised that something was wrong. But what was I to do about it?”

Words dried in your throat. You wanted to cry at his words, but you felt dried out. How could someone treat their child like that? It explained so much…

Your husband was a fragile man, you were just realising. And he was trying to pick up the pieces and present them to you in the only way he knew how.

"The stars remind me of you,” he said quietly, the change in conversation sudden. “I mean that in the best possible way.” His voice was the softest and most tender as you had ever heard it. You hoped he would keep speaking the melodies that made your heart sing in tune.

“How so?” you asked, afraid to break the plane of existence that you and Mattheo were carefully standing on.

"They are so beautiful, yet so far away. I may see them, but I can never touch them."

***

The servants didn’t know what to do. The master and mistress, Mr. and Mrs. Riddle, seemed to be at a ceasefire. The cooks lamented at how they had seemed to be doing so well. The maids thought they were destined to doom from the start. The butlers gossiped about Mr. Riddle’s letters to a Mr. Tom, terminating their long-term partnership. The scullery maid still had hope that the husband and wife would come to their senses and live a happy life.

It perplexed the servants when the mistress requested to move her belongings back into the master bedroom and the master looked on, a soft smile on his lips. It confused the servants when the Mr and Mrs began taking meals together and talking in hushed tones late into the night. And it bamboozled the servants when, one summer afternoon, the Lord of the household stood from his desk, cautiously moved to his Lady that was reading by the open window, and asked her to accompany him on a walk. She had accepted.

There was to be a dinner party, this time hosted at Mr. Draco Malfoy’s manor, that Mr. Riddle was expected to attend. Per usual, the master didn’t invite the mistress, but she was content to stay home. A maid briefly heard the madam whisper to her husband, “hurry home, please? I don’t like it when you’re away.” The maid had scurried away before she could hear the reply.

Mattheo returned home that night, just before the sun was setting. He climbed the steps, unbuttoning his cuffs and loosening his tie. The soft glow of light was still shining under your shared bedroom - something he still hadn’t gotten used to - and Mattheo couldn’t help but smile.

“Why are you still up?” he asked quietly when he entered the room.

“You promised to be home early and I wanted to see you before I go to bed,” you reminded him, a small book in your hands.

“Right, right.” Mattheo chuckled and shook his head, slinging off his tie and jacket.

“How was the dinner?”

Mattheo hummed noncommittally. “Not the worst. A couple of my good friends, Theo and Pansy, were there to help alleviate the pain of socialising. But… I found something odd happening.”

“And what was that, husband?” Mattheo took a moment to relish in the way that word curled off your tongue effortlessly.

“I found myself wishing you were there. Nay,” he quickly corrected himself. “I wished I was here with you.”

“Oh?” Your eyes flickered up towards Mattheo, a slight blush coming to your cheeks. “Why… what do you mean by that?”

Mattheo began to unbutton his shirt and moved towards his closet. “Well,” he admitted, mumbling to himself. “I simply mean that instead of having to socialise with people who are too tightly wound and whose only intent is to take my money,” he chucked his belt into his closet and rolled up his sleeves, “I would rather be at home with my darling wife.”

A smile inched up your lips. “Really? Tell me more about this darling wife of yours.”

Mattheo hummed, stepping towards the bed. He crawled down on the bed, leaning on his forearms to lean up towards you. “My wife… I’ve come to care deeply about her. She is a beautiful, elegant woman, one who has a fiery tongue about her and an intelligent brain that even I cannot rival. She always seems to get her way, even when I try to fight back. It’s as if my wife has a command over me that I have willingly submitted to. And I am not ashamed to say so.” He lightly caressed your arm, sending a trail of goosebumps up your skin.

“You must be careful, Mattheo,” you uttered. “That sounds an awful lot like love.”

Mattheo brought his eyes up to meet yours, the sting of tears building up behind them. His voice cracked as he said, “that’s the first time you’ve called me by my name, Y/n.”

Your lips parted in shock. “I- I didn’t realise. I’m sorry-”

“Don’t you dare apologise,” Mattheo demanded before reaching up to pull you into a kiss.

His lips were soft and meaningful against yours, hungrily trying to gather every ounce of love from you. His kisses were feverish at first, his strong hand coming up to cup your jawline, his fingers just teasing behind your ear, before his lips slowed. Mattheo was a starved man and he wouldn’t let anyone take away his only solace. He shifted so he could be closer to you, gently taking the book from your hands as you surrendered yourself to him. Your hands found his silk shirt, gripping it in your fists. He placed the book on the nightstand and moved so he was hovering over you, never once letting a second go by without feeling your skin against his.

Mattheo slowly, achingly pulled away from you and his eyes fluttered open to meet yours. “My darling, my love, my life,” he murmured, dragging a knuckle down your cheek. “I apologise for everything I have ever done or said that made you feel inferior. I would be happy to kneel for you in front of my associates and family members - just to show them how much power you have over me.” He took a breath before persisting, “I was foolish. I was incompetent. I didn’t realise how much love I held for you. It is, and always will be, only you. I will promise you this: you will be the only woman I ever touch, the only voice I ever want to hear, the only skin I will ever caress, and the only eyes I ever want to see. I will wake and fall, every morning and night, thinking of you. You are the other half of my heart, for it is you who I love. I will place the galaxies and stars in the night sky for you. If you are ever unhappy, my love, I will not rest until I see you smile again. If you are ever mad, my love, I shall smite whatever upsets you, even if it is I. And I would die a happy man if you could give me only an ounce of what I give you.”

Your breath shook and you swore Mattheo had injected ambrosia into your veins for you were sure your blood was singing with the love that was filling your soul. “I wrote a letter to your mother today,” you offered quietly, as if your mere words could ever compare to the love poem Mattheo had just gifted to you. “And I thanked her.” Mattheo’s eyes flashed with confusion. You continued, “I thanked her for birthing such a wonderful husband and for raising him. I know you u wish to renounce your family, but as of now, I want to thank them with all my heart. Mattheo, I love you.”

“And I you,” Mattheo whispered, bringing his forehead down to rest on yours. His nose bumped against your cheek and he couldn’t contain his grin anymore. “How did I ever get so lucky?” he mumbled.

You laughed lightly. “Luck? Fate?”

Mattheo shook his head and his nose brushed light curves over your skin. “No, my wife. Simply love. Pure, unconditional love.”

***

The house was bright, the curtains pulled as far open as they could be. Some servants scuttled around, holding laundry or preparing for dinner. Meanwhile, Mattheo strode leisurely through the halls, smiling lovingly as his nephews chased each other through the halls. “What do I say, boys?” he called after them.

“Have fun, be safe, and don’t get caught!” they yelled back before running around a corner.

Enzo jogged after them and grumbled to Mattheo, “it’s not your duty to rule them up.”

“As their favourite uncle, yes, it is.”

“Your wife is in Andromeda’s room,” Enzo told his brother before sprinting off after his sons. Enzo wasn’t usually at Riddle Manor, but today was a special day. It was Orion’s birthday.

Mattheo chuckled to himself before Orion raced up the steps, panting. “Papa! Papa!”

Mattheo grinned widely and scooped Orion up. “Are you alright, hm? What’ve you been up to?”

“Aunt Pansy’s carriage just pulled up!” Orion bounced in Mattheo’s arms, beaming.

“And you’re not even dressed,” Mattheo stared at Orion, pretending to be stunned. “Where’s your mother, Ori?”

“She’s helping Andy get dressed,” Orion announced. Mattheo nodded and carried his son to his daughter’s room. “Mum!” Orion cried out, seeing Y/n standing behind Andromeda, knotting her hair into a braid.

“Oh, my darling,” Y/n tied Andy’s hair up before crossing to Mattheo and taking Orion from his arms. “Are you excited for your birthday?”

Orion hummed excitedly and wiggled down from Y/n’s arms. He darted to Andromeda and wrapped himself around her in a tight hug. Andromeda grumbled, but allowed him to cling to her as she finished her hair and rouge.

Mattheo took Y/n’s hand and pulled her back toward him, nudging his nose against hers. “Look at that,” he murmured, reaching down to play with the silver and green ring on your finger. “Mine.” He pressed a kiss to your temple. Slowly, as to not arouse suspicion from your children, he backed you up and caged you against the wall in his arms. “Seven years with you and two beautiful children to show for it.”

“Hey, mum? Where’s my- eugh!” Andromeda turned around and reeled back from the scene in front of her. “For the love of Salazar, please get a room!”

“We are in a room.” Mattheo smirked, glancing up from the crook of your neck.

“Aren’t you two, if I'm doing my calculations correctly, nearing thirty years old?” Andromeda tsked and rolled her eyes.

“You believe that simply because we’re getting older, I’m going to stop loving your mother?” Mattheo chuckled before pressing a light kiss to your jawline.

You shivered and tucked your face into your husband’s chest. “Matty, spare the poor children,” you chastised lightly. “What do you need, darling?” you turned towards Andromeda.

“You used to call me that,” Mattheo whined. He stepped back from you, letting you out of his embrace.

Andromeda sighed and asked, “where is my white shawl? It’ll go well with the dress I’m planning to wear to Orion’s party.”

“Why does it matter what you wear to Orion’s party?” Mattheo asked, puzzled.

“Because Albus Potter is going to be here,” you said as if it were obvious.

“Harry Potter’s son?” Mattheo asked incredulously. “That scumbag?”

Both you and Andromeda ignored Mattheo and Orion left the room at the sound of Aunt Pansy entering the foyer and shouting out for her favourite nephew.

“Your shawl should be in the library,” you answered. “Ori was using it as a blanket yesterday.”

Andromeda sighed and turned towards the door. “He needs to stop taking my things. Just last week he stole my candelabra so he could read in the dark. Perhaps you should accelerate his schooling. He’s getting bored, you know.”

“We’ll raise our own son, thank you, Andromeda,” Mattheo raised a brow. Andy huffed and and flicked her dress out behind her dramatically, exiting the room. Mattheo turned to you and said, “they get that from you. The love of reading.”

“Yes, but they get their flair for the dramatics from you. And lest us not forget, you keep fuelling our love of literature by buying more books and expanding our library,” you countered.

Mattheo hummed. “‘Tis true. But how could I live without spoiling my wife and children?” He whirled you around in his arms and pressed a long kiss to your lips. “Speaking of children, what would you think of expanding our family?”

You let out a laugh. “You simply like the act of making a bigger family.”

“I love my children too,” Mattheo defended.

You reached up and brushed some of his hair away from his face. “Yes you do,” you smiled up at him. “You love your family very much.”

“Always.”

2K notes · View notes

edenesth · 3 months

Text

The Way to His Heart [12]

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 3.1k

Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.

Part 11 | Fic Masterlist | Part 13

Prince Yeosang.

The fourth son born to the King and Queen of Joseon, was among the most widely recognised princes in the nation, though not for reasons one might consider positive. Unlike his numerous brothers and sisters, he adamantly resisted marriage despite reaching a suitable age.

But of course, his singledom was not the main reason for the constant chatter about him. The real cause for the heightened attention was the prominent birthmark beside his left eye.

In Joseon, beauty held immense significance, particularly for members of the royal family, who were deemed superior and held to higher standards than the commoners. Consequently, the prince's distinctive mark marked him as an anomaly within the royal lineage.

Throughout his life, Yeosang had been accustomed to the constant scrutiny that came with being perceived as a defect. From what he understood, even his own parents had reacted with alarm upon witnessing the sizable red birthmark on the side of his face when he was born. In reality, the mark didn't diminish his attractiveness, but societal taboos surrounding such markings led people to overlook his overall appeal and fixate solely on the spot.

As a result, he rejected all marriage proposals, having observed the disdainful glances directed at him by potential candidates. The thought of being wedded to someone who did not genuinely appreciate him was unappealing. Besides, he loathed the constant parade of pampered girls presented to him annually.

He would prefer to remain alone for the rest of his life than be tied down to any of those brats. Having always believed that no one could ever empathise with the pain of having such a mark on their face, he was more than astonished to discover you proudly displaying your scar. What's more, you stood in stark contrast to any of the snobbish noblewomen he had met.

It was when he was evading his many princely obligations meant to prepare him for the throne, despite being fourth in line, that he unexpectedly came across you, the beautiful stranger, while seeking a brief escape in the garden. For the first time in a long while, his heart quickened as he approached you, fearing he might lose sight of your enchanting presence.

"Allow me to express our deepest respect, Your Highness. This is Lady Park, the esteemed wife of General Park. Mistress, may I present to you Prince Yeosang." As if sensing his intentions, the servant standing beside you quickly clarified your identity.

However, if she thought this revelation would dissuade the fourth prince, she was sorely mistaken as Yeosang only smiled wider. So, you were the famous Miss Jang, currently the talk of the town. Knowing that you were here only to discuss wedding arrangements, he deduced that you and the general were not yet properly wedded.

That meant not all hope was lost for him.

Your eyes widened at Eunsook's words, the realisation sinking in that you were in the presence of a prince. Without wasting another second, you performed the formal bow you had practised countless times with the head maid before visiting the palace. Greeting the prince respectfully, you maintained the poise and grace befitting your status as the general's wife, "It is my greatest honour to be in your presence, Your Highness. Forgive this humble subject for failing to recognise you."

Up close, Yeosang's admiration for you only intensified. The genuine respect you demonstrated meant more to him than you would ever know. The prince had rarely been shown sincerity, and he knew then that he was right about your purity. Unlike any other noblewoman, you didn't eye him with even the slightest hint of disgust.

She's the one.

"Please rise, Miss Jang. It is quite alright; no harm is done. If anything, it feels very refreshing not to be recognised in an instant." He extended a hand to assist you, gently lifting you from your bow. Your eyes widened in wonder, and you offered him a grateful smile, not recalling Eunsook mentioning this part of the greeting.

Meanwhile, the head maid was in a state of panic, realising that the prince seemed interested in you. He had disregarded your title as Lady Park and had taken the opportunity to be close to you. Seonghwa would not be pleased if he found out.

"I'll be honest, I have yet to meet anyone who adores flowers as much as I do. It's almost as if fate brought us together." Yeosang said, chuckling as he took in your eyes sparkling with sincere enthusiasm. You seemed innocently happy just to make a new friend.

How precious.

"Would you care to take a stroll with me, my lady? I know of a perfect spot with a view that surpasses even this one."

Eunsook's stomach sank as you agreed to his invitation. It wasn't that she blamed you for being unfaithful to her master; she knew you were simply too clueless to see through the prince's intentions. Her concern was for the potential aftermath of the situation – what would happen if the general were to learn about Yeosang's interest in you and your willingness to spend time with him.

In another part of the palace at the War and Strategy Department building, the atmosphere was the furthest thing from peaceful as the words spoken by His Majesty weighed heavily on your husband's heart, "I'm so sorry, my boy. It seems your wedding will have to wait. Relations with the neighbouring nation, Ruhon, have not been very good lately. I fear war is inevitable this time, and... we need you."

Seonghwa sank into one of the chairs, his eyes blinking rapidly as he absorbed the weight of the words just spoken, "War...? H-how serious is the situation? And why haven't I been informed about the strained relations with Ruhon?"

San, taking a seat beside him, sighed and responded, "We've been attempting peace negotiations with them for months, but an agreement seems elusive. They've been making unreasonable demands. We didn't want to burden you with any of this at first, we wanted you to focus on your new marriage. But the situation has escalated, and it appears we're left with no choice but to prepare for the worst."

The King continued with a heavy heart, "Unfortunately, despite our efforts, we haven't been able to reach an agreement with Ruhon regarding their latest demands. They are now threatening to settle matters through force. We must start preparing and strategising immediately; their attack could come at any time."

The implications of the impending conflict raced through your husband's mind, the weight of responsibility pressing down on him. The realisation that he would have to lead the army into battle overshadowed the joy of his recent marriage. Just when he thought things were finally looking up for the two of you, the looming threat of war cast a dark shadow over your lives.

He pressed a hand against his head, eyes shut tight, muttering, "I could be gone for months or even years..."

"I'm sorry, Seonghwa-yah. I know this is not what you expected, especially right after your marriage. I wish we didn't have to ruin your plans like this." The King apologised with a solemn expression.

With a shake of his head, the general replied, "No, Your Majesty, I understand the gravity of the situation. My duty lies in protecting this nation. I promise I won't let anything jeopardise its safety, even if it means altering my personal plans."

Nodding, the ruler pursed his lips appreciatively, "We thank you for your dedication, General Park. We'll need you to lead our forces and devise a strategy to repel the impending threat from Ruhon."

"I'll do everything in my power to safeguard our country, my King. You have my word." Seonghwa knew that safeguarding his nation also meant keeping his own wife safe. As much as he hated it, there was no time to dwell on the disappointment of the changed plans; he needed to get to work immediately.

Transitioning into his professional demeanour, he interlocked his hands as he met the gaze of the ruler of Joseon, "When is my deployment to the war zone scheduled?"

His Majesty sighed deeply before answering him, "You have a few days to spend with your wife; the troops are still establishing the base as we speak. You can head over when it's ready. General Officer Song has also been notified and will be there to start strategising in detail with you by then."

Following the finalisation of the main details, the meeting came to a close. As the general prepared to leave, the King stopped him once more. Before he could offer yet another apology, Seonghwa intervened, "You don't owe me any apology, Your Majesty. None of this is your fault; you've done your best to protect your people. Now it's my turn to perform my duty. I... I only have one thing to ask of you while I'm gone..."

The ruler nodded, aware of the request that would follow, "I ask that you watch over my wife for me and make sure she's well protected until my return," His Majesty agreed, a hand squeezing your husband's shoulder, "Of course, my boy. You don't even have to ask."

As your husband headed towards the cherry blossom garden to find you, the unexpected sight of you with the fourth prince caught him off guard. Suppressing a sigh, he shook his head, preventing another wave of irrational jealousy from taking over. He reminded himself that, as San had assured him, you were his. Perhaps, he reasoned, you were simply making new friends.

Moreover, he recalled Prince Yeosang's firm stance on not settling down. Seonghwa reassured himself that there should be nothing more to this than platonic bonding.

Catching sight of her master approaching, Eunsook's panic began to seize her. Mentally preparing herself for the incoming wrath, she knew he wouldn't be pleased to see you spending time with another man. Turning back to you, she hoped to catch your attention, intending to warn you of his presence. However, you were too engrossed in your conversation with the prince, discussing your favourite flowers.

"I think my favourite might be the lotus flower, but that's probably because my husband has dedicated an entire pond full of it to me." The general's heart swelled with affection at your words, confirming that his trust in you was well-placed.

That's my girl.

Before the prince could respond and tell you that he could give you so much more, Seonghwa had finally arrived behind you.

"You're here, master," The head maid greeted, but he waved her off and bowed at Yeosang, "Yes, I'm here now. Thank you for keeping my wife company while I was busy, Your Highness. If there is nothing else, we will be taking our leave now."

Brightening up at your husband's presence, you stepped over to him, and he instinctively circled an arm around your back. Despite the enjoyable time with your new friend, the instant comfort of being with Seonghwa made you feel at home again. The fourth prince's eye twitched at the interaction, but he did his best to maintain a smile on his handsome face.

The elderly woman was genuinely surprised; she blinked as she tried to comprehend her master's calm demeanour. It was unexpected, especially considering how unhappy he had been when you were around Yunho and San. But she found relief in not witnessing him explode or resort to his usual passive-aggressive self.

"Ahh yes, General Park, off to make arrangements for your upcoming wedding ceremony, I presume?" The prince's tone carried a hint of smugness, almost as if he were privy to some knowledge.

Your husband's expression dimmed at the reminder; there would be no wedding plans for some time. Mustering a cordial smile, he bowed lightly, "Something along those lines, Your Highness." He had no intention of breaking the news to you in this manner, and he certainly didn't feel obligated to provide Yeosang with any explanations, so a little fabrication wouldn't hurt.

As if on cue, a few palace servants finally caught up to the prince, out of breath, "There you are, Your Highness! Please don't make our jobs any more difficult than they already are. Will you return to the library with us? The royal tutor is still waiting for you." Yeosang sighed and reluctantly turned to bid you goodbye.

"Very well then. It was nice talking to you, Miss Jang. I hope to see you again. And you, General Park." You and Seonghwa bowed politely as he left the garden with the poor servants trailing miserably behind.

The general did his best to brush aside the prince's borderline irritating behaviour, particularly the way he insisted on addressing you as Miss Jang despite your change in marital status. In the grand scheme of things, such trivialities held no importance now. Chances were slim that you would ever meet Prince Yeosang again, given the impending war and the duties that awaited your husband.

With a deep breath, he focused on the immediate task at hand – spending precious moments with you before he had to leave for the war. Gently tucking a strand of stray hair behind your ear, he offered a warm smile, "Come, my love. Let's make our way home."

Furrowing your brows in confusion, you questioned, "We're heading home already? Aren't we supposed to meet His and Her Majesty?" The head maid shared your astonishment; she was equally puzzled.

Seonghwa let out a small sigh and nodded, "Yes, there's been a change of plans. I'll explain on our way home."

As you walked back to the waiting carriage, your husband's mind raced with thoughts of how to break the news to you. You had only just overcome a traumatising ordeal and were finally getting your happily ever after. The daunting task of telling you that he would have to leave for war for an indefinite amount of time loomed over him. He wondered about your possible reactions and couldn't shake the uncertainty of whether he would return.

Despite being the great General Park, he couldn't escape the reality that, at the end of the day, he was still human.

Settling down into the vehicle, you noticed your husband staring anxiously out the window, lost in thought. Placing a hand over his, you softly called out, "Seonghwa," When he turned to meet your concerned gaze, you inquired, "What is it? What was the emergency meeting about?" He grasped your hands, squeezing them, as he prepared himself to share the news with you.

"I... I'm so sorry, my love, but our wedding ceremony will have to be postponed... indefinitely," As disappointing as that was, you wanted to know the actual reason, so you nodded and waited for him to continue, "That's because... there is an incoming war."

He didn't need to elaborate for you to grasp the situation immediately. Naturally, it meant he would have to go and fight. As the most promising general in all of Joseon, the King's most trusted warrior, if it wasn't him going off to fight, then who else? Your heart clenched uncomfortably at the revelation, but you understood it was only part of his job, so you smiled reassuringly at him, "Oh... I-I understand, Seonghwa. Wh-when are you leaving then?"

Raising his brows in surprise, it took him a minute to react, "W-wait, are you not upset with any of this? I will be leaving you, and it could be for months or even years... and you're okay with it?"

You sighed shakily, the smile now dropping.

"Of course, I'm not okay with it... If only it were possible, I would like to keep you all to myself, but it's your job to defend the nation. You're General Park, and I'm so proud of you for that. You've won so many battles; I'm certain this will be another easy victory for you. As your wife, I will do my duty to safeguard our home until your return."

Just as he believed his love for you couldn't deepen further, your words proved him wrong. He felt incredibly fortunate to have such an understanding wife. He should have known better; he didn't know why he expected you to throw a tantrum. Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close and pushing your head into the crook of his neck, "You're right; I'm an idiot. I hope you know you're not making it any easier for me to leave you."

Despite the tears welling up in your eyes, you chuckled, trying to maintain a positive outlook amid the looming dread. Inside, you were trembling, and letting him go was the last thing you wanted. Yet, you had to face your reality, "You haven't answered me, Seonghwa. When are you leaving?"

He squeezed his eyes shut, tightening his hold around you before whispering, "In a few days, my love. A few days."

« Preview of Part 13 »

"Your Majesty, the fourth prince requests an audience with you." The Queen arched an eyebrow, surprised that her most rebellious son would willingly seek to meet her. She had anticipated him doing everything in his power to avoid her due to her constant nagging for him to settle down.

"Hm, does he now? Allow him to enter."

With a deep bow, the eunuch complied, "Yes, Your Majesty, as you wish," before exiting the Queen's chambers to fetch her son.

"The fourth prince, Your Majesty," Yeosang made a grand entrance with a half-hearted bow and greeting, "It's been a while, Mother."

Her Majesty snorted in disbelief, but it no longer surprised her. He had always been the most disobedient among all of her children. She tried to be understanding, acknowledging that his life hadn't been as easy as his other siblings due to the birthmark on his face. This understanding explained her leniency with his attitude.

"What a surprise, Yeosang. To what do I owe the pleasure, my son? If this is regarding more funds or approval for another one of your expeditions out of the palace, you can forget it. I don't want to hear it unless you're telling me you wish to get married—"

With a smirk, the prince crossed his arms over his chest, "That's exactly what I am here for, Mother. I came to tell you I have changed my mind and would agree to get married, on one condition."

The Queen immediately straightened in her seat, wondering if she had heard him wrong, "Y-you're willing to get married?" He nodded, and she widened her eyes, "Name it; what is your condition?"

"It has to be the eldest Miss Jang promised to General Park Seonghwa. It's her or nothing, Mother."

Y'all, my new and final semester of uni starts next week. Here's a heads-up; updates are probably not going to be as frequent, but I will do my best! Also, I apologise if this part felt like a filler chapter HAHA gotta let the drama build up slowly.

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

Tag list (1/7): @huachengsbestie01 @evidive @weedforthoughtz @ssrnghwa @yunnieo @sunnyhokyu @lynnsqueendom @frobin4ever @chwesuh-imnida @thunderous-wolf @itstheghostofmypast @professormingisglasses @deltamoon666 @avantalem @famishalll @yungilia @soobiverse @joongified @scuzmunkie @http-gyu @mentoslol @atinyreads @angel-hyuckie @anxiousskylar @onedumbho3 @narashii @ddaeing @sanstreasure0305 @sohnfile @scarfac3 @dreamingofyeo @puppyminnnie @tinyteezer @vantediary @satsuri3su @mismatchfluffysocks @aliona124754 @bts-army380 @lilactangerine @atinyniki @pay13 @1117promises @xoxkii @st4rcig4r @hikarii02 @nescaffei @xdolls-crownx @ashrocker123 @skzline @minkiflwr @starssongs98 @baeksofty @skz1-4-3 @kawaiikels @madnpan @maoyueze @en-happiness @cheolliehugs @persnyako @startinystay @chngbnwf @fatspecimen @christinerose380 @stfu-rina @kyukyustar @taytayy178 @appleschre @brielle-in-the-galaxy @kamabokogonpachro @laurenwidjaja

Tag list (cont.): see comment/reply section

#edenesth #the way to this heart #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #park seonghwa #ateez seonghwa #arranged marriage au #joseon era #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x you #ateez fic #historical au

648 notes · View notes

glow-worms-are-believers · 10 months

Text

Lost and Found (dp x dc)

Alfred sighed as he looked over the wide gymnasium, thinking to himself that he shouldn’t have listened to Leslie. Community service was all well and good as a way to connect with people, but overseeing an inter-school bakery-sale-and-science-fair combined event was proving to be more chaotic than anything else.

As another child dropped yet another just-bought desert on the floor, Alfred slunk into the shadows deciding to let the clean-up be someone else’s task for once. As he got further and further from the main hubbub, the ex(?)-butler arrived near a small exit door and snuck out quitely. As the fresh air hit his face, Alfred let out a breath. Seeing so many children around had him thinking of his charge and where he could possibly be.

The older man hadn’t brought a pack, since he’s been going to a school, but in the moment he wished he had. Sighing once again, Alfred shook off the craving as he took a few steps towards the communal school garden when the sight of a black-haired boy sitting with his back to him had him freezing. A second later his brain caught up to him, reminding him that this was not young master Bruce. The crushing disappointment he felt as he recognized the boy in front of him was much to small to be his little master Bruce surprised him by its intensity.

Alfred took a moment to compose himself before he cleared his throat. The noise had the figure flinching and turning their head towards the older man. Then, as the boy caught sight of the older man, he seemed to slump. Seeing that he was unlikely to speak up first, Alfred took it upon himself to start the conversation.

“Might I inquire what you are doing outside, young man?”

The boy’s shoulder slumped even more though he still answered. “Haven’t got any sweets to sell,” he mumbled.

“Oh?” Alfred sounded out. “Why is that?”

“My cookies ate my homework so I had to put them down,” said the boy as he finally raised his head, long-suffering

But Alfred could only breathe a faint “Indeed?” as the boy’s features were exposed. The resemblance with master Bruce was so uncanny that the butler had trouble looking away. But as he examined him more closely he could see some minute differences. The boy didn’t have the sharp jawline both mister Wayne and master Bruce had shared. His nose was smaller than master Bruce’s and his eyes were paler than the darker blue passed down through the Wayne line. The sight of a face so similar and yet not quite like master Bruce had his mind jumping to the portrait hung above the manor’s fireplace and the face of the toddler sitting on his mother’s lap as a slightly older child stood beside her with his father’s hand on his shoulder.

Everyone had bemoaned the two-fold tragedy of the Waynes. First to lose their youngest son at such a young age, only to be themselves brutally murdered only a few months later. All was left of the previously illustrious Waynes was a grief-stricken eight-year-old who had just lost his brother and parents in such a short period of time. Alfred sighed as he remembered how angry master Bruce was at his inability to find out to this day what had happened to his brother. The man half-suspected this was how the young man had developed such an obsession with solving mysteries.

Once again having to focus back on the boy in front of him, Alfred smiled at the boy. Then, the boy’s word registered and the man let out an amused huff. “You had no choice but to put an end to that, I suppose. Cookies as spirited as yours would sell poorly in any case.”

“Oh you’ve got no idea,” muttered the young man as he pushed himself to his feet only for his hand to slip on the wet wood surrounding the gardening plots and falling face-first onto the hard wooden surface.

“Oh dear!” exclaimed Alfred as he darted to assist the boy in straightening up. The boy groaned in pain as he held his nose and Alfred could see drops of red falling down.

“Here,” said the older man as he handed the boy a fabric handkerchief.

“Thanks,” the teen croaked as he accepted it.

“Put your head between your knees,” Alfred instructed. “Breathe through your mouth.”

The boy offered a thumbs-up as he complied. Alfred waited patiently by the teen as he kept the handkerchief held against his nose. After a moment, the boy held it away experimentally and when he felt no more blood flowing he turned towards Alfred.

“Thanks,” he said before he looked down at the red-stained white fabric. “I can wash it and return it if you give me a return address.”

“It’s alright,” Alfred refused. “I don’t mind washing it.”

“Thanks,” repeated the boy as he handed the older man the handkerchief back, as he got to his feet, this time more gingerly. “I best get back before my friends start looking for me.”

“Be careful on the way back,” Alfred couldn’t help saying.

The boy hummed and as he turned around for a final wave goodbye, their eyes connected and Alfred felt a jolt travel through his body. Though the pale blue of Danny’s eyes was not the distinctive shade of the Waynes, it was however identical to the color of the late Martha Wayne’s eyes. As the boy opened the exit door and disappeared in the crowd of people, Alfred looked down at the blood-stained handkerchief.

He knew there was a less than infinitesimal chance. Still. What would it hurt to make absolutely sure?

#Lost princess AU #dc x dp #dp x dc #Danny fenton is bruce wayne’s younger brother #alfred pennyworth #roxpox #roxpoxwrote #Bruce is off traipsing around the world learning the skills necessary to become a furry vigilante with adoption problems in the future #Can you believe he left Alfred alone for 7 years?#Poor Alfred doesn’t deserves such a wild child

913 notes · View notes

writing-makes-me-human · 1 year

Text

Charming Killer: 6

┍━━━━━»•» 🌺 «•«━┑

Pairing: Neteyam x reader

PART ONE PART TWO PART THREE PART FOUR PART FIVE

Summary: Neteyam comes to find you and tries to explain what happens but the time away causes chaotic pain and romance as you try to understand one another. He speaks of his family to you and you try to understand him as he explains his mother hates you (spoiler alert: you do not get it)

Warnings: None, very fluffy with tension

Word Count: 6.4 k (kill me)

A/N: Get this cursed writing out of my sight! NO MORE SPACE ON TAGLIST soz :(

If I haven't replied to your comment, I'm coming fr just not rn also sorry if I replied with just "YES" if you asked to be added to the tag list, my defense? I am lazy.

Neteyam kept up his facade for three weeks. He played to his mother's wishes as well as he could, and finally, something in him snapped.

He felt a part of his stomach ache that told him there was something wrong, he had shivered at the feeling, and now he was done hiding from you. He had to see you, but he had to be sensible about it.

He asked his brother to cover him for the morning by weaving with his mother, and he set off to the labs.

As his feet hit the ground, he couldn't help the grin that, for the first time in weeks, began poking through his lips. His gentle walk turned into a run as he came closer to the labs, a laugh tumbling from him as he saw the metal containers standing where they had stood in every replay Neteyam flicked through of the first time he had met you.

With great agility, he slung his legs over the staircase's handrails connected to the door in one step and rattled his fist on the door, waiting for passing scientists to open the airlock as before. He pressed his hands against the window cut into the door, which looked into the long corridor, and peered in before his eyes shockingly landed on you. He was like an excited kid, eagerly pushing himself flush against the door to see you.

Your mouth was agape as you saw him, your brow furrowed in confusion. His tail picked up its pace behind him as he tapped his hand against the glass with a boyish chuckle bouncing off the glass and beating back to him.

It had been three weeks since he had seen you, and you had never looked so beautiful to him.

Your hair was a mess, and you were carrying a crate of scrap metal in the direction of the laboratory, but at the sight of him, you frowned faintly. You went to move forward again, but his gentle tapping with his finger on the glass caught your eyes again.

His smile had disappeared as he looked at you incredulously. You wanted to move on and ignore him, but you grumbled to yourself and sat down the crate in order to pull an explanation from his lips.

You had continued learning Na'vi over the weeks, not out of a hope to communicate with Neteyam but out of boredom and loyalty to Norm, who was so eager to teach. Even if back home you outranked him, here his knowledge was survival. Still, a small dwindling part of you hoped you might be able to understand a few more words the warrior would say to you now.

You walked over to the airlock, pressed in the code that opened the door closest to Neteyam, and stepped back as he ducked his head under the doorway and looked at you.

Even though you were frowning and the scent of bitterness reeked from you, he crouched down and held out his arms to ask for a hug with a begging look.

You ignored him, turned to a trolley beside you, and pulled forth one of the masks filled with Neteyam's air. You tossed it to him and then pointed to his bow across his front with a glare before you bent back down and picked up the crate with a groan, setting off to the lab without a second glance back at the stumped guest.

Neteyam's heart stung at your rejection of the human affection he had come to dream of having again from you, but he quickly slung his bow off his front, held the mask to his mouth and took several deep breaths that would sustain him for a while.

He set off after you, awkwardly ducking under doorways and flattening himself against walls as humans walked past him with carts of contraptions and plants laid in their arms.

The news would spread quickly between your species of Neteyam's appearance, and you hoped either Max or Norman would come running to your rescue soon.

Neteyam called out your name through the corridor as you put space between you two, leaving him in your dust as you carted the box into the lab you were using today.

You slammed the box down on your desk and then turned to the door with your arms crossed, waiting.

Neteyam wandered in, his forehead banging on the archway as he crouched even lower to enter the low-hanged ceiling room. The motion sent his braids flying, and the clack of beads filled the otherwise silent room.

His hiss of pain made your chest grunt with amusement. He rubbed the spot on his forehead momentarily as he turned behind himself and pulled at the sliding door, closing yourselves off from adventurous ears. He must have been watching someone around here carefully as they used the doors.

You clicked your tongue in irritation, ignoring him as you grabbed the metal scrap crate and pulled it toward you. You dug through carefully, gently lifting sharp pieces off one another to get to the bottom of the container, but the manner of movement was hostile. Your quick tugs to parts made Neteyam's heart seize as he wanted to drag your plump flesh away from the serrated edges.

Neteyam was at a loss in every sense of the word. He had no idea where he was or the purpose of most of the contraptions around this strange, closed room. It almost overwhelmed his senses with the lack of airflow paired with your robust and resentful scent that made his brain capsize.

"What do you want?" You finally spoke, the words coming out demanding as you kept your eyes on your hands.

Neteyam stepped towards you, slowly reaching out with his long, slender fingers that wrapped around your left wrist, using stealthy movements he had been learning from birth to try to soothe you.

"Why are you upset, my girl, huh?", Neteyam cocked his head, trying to push his face into your line of view, but you had none of it, pulling back and keeping your eyes trained in front.

His English was rocky as usual, but his accent never failed to have your ears hanging out for more. He had such a beautiful voice, and it was hard to ignore when you exchanged words you could comprehend.

"I don't want to see you, Neteyam. Can't you fuck off?" You reeled back, failing to try and find a spot in the lab where you could go unseen.

His forehead creased as his hands fell to his knees while he crouched over your workbench. You were so violent; why? What had he done? He knew that his absence for so long would have created division, but surely it hadn't been so long that you had begun to resent him?

"I am sorry for leaving you, I had no choice", he apologized, trying to steer this conversation into familiar waters he could understand. He sounded desperate and pathetic, yet your eyelashes fluttered as your stomach rolled and whipped itself into a frenzy.

The Na'vi language blessed your ears, and he spoke slowly, recognizing by how your face contorted that you must have at least known the subject matter of his sentence.

You glanced up at him, and as you peered into his yellow eyes that were refracting as much light as they could in this dark chamber, the image of the last time you had seen them when he cheekily grinned over his shoulder at you tore through your mind. You swiftly looked away to avoid the summoning of butterflies in the lining of your stomach.

The awkward glance at him as if you were a young girl with a crush reinstated his spirits a little, and he felt the tinge of his fear that you hadn't meant to lay with him in such an intimate way those weeks ago subside. You liked him. It was written all over your face, even if you wouldn't say it.

"You missed me?" He wasn't smiling but he was smug in his voice. He was determined. You'd give him that.

"No", you set your mouth straight and turned around to fidget with the settings on a microscope.

You twisted the knob on the side and leaned down to press your eye to it, knowing that Neteyam didn't know enough about your technology to see you were looking at nothing.

He swayed his head over to you and stared at the side of your face. Once again, you tried to ignore him, but the feeling of his hot stare made you pull back to glare at him.

"You have a staring problem, you know that?" The temperament wasn't lost on him, and he nodded in compliance, settling himself to sit on the balls of his heels to give you some space.

You returned to the scope, but the sad ache Neteyam had created came up once more, and you decided to speak again.

"What does having a mate mean to you guys? Is it like having a wife? Do you know what a wife is?" Your head turned to look at him with a glare.

You felt hurt that he had been going around treating other women in the same manner he had been treating you, but perhaps there was a cultural barrier; maybe seeing other females was normal for his clan.

Neteyam cocked his head in confusion at your sudden question, thinking he had misheard you, but your grip on the metal device in front of you suggested it was best to answer. He surveyed the floor as his tongue darted out to wet his mouth's borders before he spoke, and your eyes followed the action. The feeling of butterflies you had been trying to avoid was forced to explode with extreme potency as the wet shine on his full lips reminded you of your time by the river.

"It is like a wife, but it is more", Neteyam's comprehension of English was moderate, but explaining the inner workings and spiritual nature of a mated relationship between the natives of Pandora to a human was hard.

"More? How is it more?" You quizzed, forehead wrinkling as you tried to understand further.

Neteyam sighed, cracking his head up to the ceiling as he searched his mind for the right words. You both had juvenile understandings of one another's language, and Neteyam was at an impasse.

He suddenly sparked up and looked down at you, debating for only a second before he reached behind his head, eyes never leaving yours, as he gently pulled forward his braid.

The black hair that made up the braid was shiny and gorgeous, it looked like silk, and when he held it out to you, the texture made your skin bubble with how soft it appeared.

He gripped the jet-black plait, giving it a short amount of slack at the front, and held it out to you.

You eyed the braid that reached the base of Neteyam's tail when he stood to his full height with great interest.

Touching the braid a while ago had ended in Neteyam running out of here at top speed with your peers demanding you replace the limb, so what had suddenly changed, you wondered.

You took a moment to consider, but Neteyam only stared, waiting for you to move. Hence, at his encouragement, you gently ran a finger over one section of the braid, eyes firing back up to Neteyam's when he shivered at the close tracing. Your touch was unlike anything he had ever experienced.

Touching the braid of a Na'vi was something reserved for very private affairs that couldn't be interfered with. Skypeople had never been permitted to handle the queue, and strangers were even less allowed to approach such a private area. Still, you were Neteyam's mate, and as weird as you had been acting, he was honored to be able to teach you about something so cherished.

"This is how we make tsaheylu, the bond with our mates", he ran his hands down to the end of the braid and flipped the end up, facing the back to the jagged ceiling. He let the hair follicles fall apart to sprawl over his fingers and show off the light pink nerve endings.

You gasped as your mind tricked you into thinking a soft light glowed from the tendrils at their reveal. They looked heavenly in the dark room, and you leaned forward to inspect them, your curiosity snuffing the upset.

You reached a finger forward to touch the long delicate cords that waved around with eagerness to grasp something. However, Neteyam slowly pulled his hands back towards his chest, and you rapidly retracted your hands to meet each other behind your back in a tight hold, embarrassment lighting your face at your haughty movements.

"They are nerves, it's best not to touch them", he flipped the knot over and held out the protective braid, giving you his blessing to touch the hair. His tonality was nurturing and kind, which made you feel slightly better about your fumbling move.

You reached out again and ran a closed hand over the black hair, holding in a childish grin as Neteyam leaned forward to let you touch further up his pelt.

You concluded your investigation and stepped back once you couldn't go any closer without moving forward. The man's eyes were pulpy while a toothy grin poked out from him. He was so happy to see you after so long, and it showed.

As his spell over your body broke during the loss of contact, the betrayal of your unseen peer's words sank back, and you decided you had to ask about this woman because it was clear Neteyam wouldn't be giving up anything in honesty.

You loosely crossed your arms over your chest and sneered at the boy. Your hips jutted out with an eyebrow poking out in a judgemental study of the much larger killer.

"So, do Na'vi take more than one mate?" Your stance was meant to come off as interrogative. However, Neteyam found the amateur attempt at being threatening with such an openly vulnerable pose amusing, then your words formed meaning in his mind.

He choked on the air around, reached for the device on his hip, and refilled his lungs as he tried to get out an unattractive laugh that was choking him, thinking you were joking. When his eyes returned to your face, he looked so severe that he had to reprove himself for forgetting you were new to his culture.

He knew humans often took multiple lovers in life. His father had told plenty of stories from his Homestar at bedtime with his brother's beckoning. Perhaps you hadn't been accustomed to Na'vi ideas long enough to understand that your species' way of life was parasitic to him.

"No, never, there is only ever one mate, Eywa's chooses for life", his titter died, and the ends of his mouth flattened out as he peered at you, ears waving around to listen closely to what you thought about that fact.

Your mind was running, optics scanning his face for lies. However, Neteyam had no reason to hide this girl from you; if it were customary to take others, he would surely tell you he had been seeking other women. If he was, the loving boy seemed oddly loyal and clingy to a human for someone keeping his options open.

"So if I am your…mate--", the word felt confidential even if the only ones who knew of your predicament were Max and Norm. Your face scrunched a little as you said it."--How does that work? I can't make tsa-tsya- the bond like the women of your people", you stuttered through the new word before ultimately deciding to give up.

Neteyam reached his hand to your cheek and laid it flat across your head to direct your sightline up to his. His face was so kind, and the sensation of his blood pumping through the veins in his hands made your knees weak.

Had he gotten stronger? No, it was the sharpness of his eyes in this light, but he looked like the greatest predator on this planet, and for a second, your fight or flight kicked in warning, reminding you this boy was a wolf in sheep's clothing.

"Tsaheylu", he spoke slowly, not letting you admit defeat and giving you a push to keep trying.

The side of your face burnt hot, and you nodded dumbly before repeating back to him, dancing along each syllable several times.

His touch was guiding, enjoying the feeling of your tongue hitting your inner cheek as you pronounced the letters. When the word was a little clearer to the trained Na'vi ear, Neteyam nodded to let you move back to the topic at hand.

"I do not know how we make the bond, perhaps we never will. Does that bother you?" He was so diplomatic, so thought out with every word. You quickly picked up on his personality, and every new thing you learned about his habitual movements or speech pattern was squirreled away.

"I don't know", you were drunk on his touch. You couldn't find a thought that would stay long. All you could feel was alarms in your body telling you that this man was something different. Something was extraterrestrially enchanting in the air he exhaled, choking the prominent scientist inside you and reducing you to a simple heap of gooey love.

"You don't know?" He picked up your mood change as the glare in your eye became damper, and your legs closed together. The stance that was once open to attacks was now trying to shy away from him. He loved it, you were giving him whiplash with every emotion you portrayed, and he couldn't even lie and say it was anything other than arousing.

His voice was sultry, giving the hair on your skin reactions so intense you worried he would notice. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, but you were feverish to have him close.

You ripped your face from his hand and stared off to the side, letting the distance sober you up. His touch lingered even when his figure was gone. You wanted to reach out, tug on his hand to bring him back, inspect every scar, and ask about all the stories that accompanied them, but the emotion of utter embarrassment consumed you more than your desires.

You had been so desperate for news about Neteyam that you had taken the slightest scrap and run a mile with it. Your shoulders tensed as you thought about the rocks shoved in a box underneath your workbench, cracked, eroded, and in shards.

Neteyam noticed your change from shy longing to awkward self-consciousness, and he investigated, looking around for a source of worry to be dealt with.

"Neteyam, I am very sorry", you were so embarrassed to tell him what you had heard, what you had assumed, and what you had done to his beautiful gifts. It was clear now that he wasn't with other girls if he felt anything for you, that was even a quarter of an inch as good as this.

You had acted like a child and wanted to make up for it.

"What are you sorry for, my love?" Neteyam's moved forward to get closer to you as he spoke. Still, even with the clear confrontment that you had done something wrong, he continued his lovesick ways, making you cringe.

You pulled back, fiddling with your fingers as you gathered the guts to confess what was wrong.

"I heard something, and it upset me, so I--well, just let me-", you were too embarrassed to explain, so you ducked your head underneath the counter behind you and pulled up the sack of crystals.

With a great heave, you let the heavy bag fall on the metal countertop with a thud, and from the cruel way you had set it down, Neteyam felt his heart sink.

You unwrapped the coil and pulled the drawstring apart, feeling ashamed as the sack let go to show the crystals inside. Most were broken, and the ones that weren't had chips in them from your careless toss across the floor.

Neteyam reached inside and brushed his flat palm over the top layer, feeling the sadness deepen as he saw another row of broken shards.

"I am so sorry, I didn't think, I was just so upset, I still love them, I know you must have worked hard to find them, please don't be upset!" You rambled with the intention to explain, and Neteyam hung off every word, not yet looking at you as he took a deep breath.

"It is okay, but why did you break them?" He truly believed you didn't mean to break them, and the disappointment subsided as his brain kicked up a gear.

You froze and awkwardly looked around the room, the words dying on your tongue as you tried to find a way to get around telling the truth.

"Well, it's really fucking dumb", you mumbled, suddenly finding the floor wonderous while Neteyam's tail flickered in questioning, tapping against the floor with a chink.

"Fukying?" He tested the word, pronouncing a 'y' with much enthusiasm, making you smile as it was your turn to correct him.

"Fucking" you corrected, trying to hold in a snicker with a hand pressed to your mouth as his eyes slit in confusion.

"What does…fucking mean?" His face was so severe, and the way his warrior form that towered over you asked in such an innocent way made the laugh escape as you shook your head.

Neteyam adapted quickly, which made him unkillable, and while he had picked up the word quickly, the gentle ignorance of it was adorable. He wasn't a predator anymore. He was Neteyam.

"It's a swear word, you know what those are?" You tried to remain courteous. He didn't know much about your culture, so of course, he didn't know much about swearing, but goodness, was it fun to watch the strong warrior, killer of tens to be stuttering over a simple word.

He shook his head up and down, "Yes, it is like a promise", he looked almost proud of his knowledge, and you felt terrible telling him he was wrong.

"No, that's a little different, a swear word is something you say that can be mean, or if you use it like I just did, it sorta puts more emphasis on what you're feeling", you felt fiddly as you tried explaining your vernacular.

"It is the only swear word?" He asked as he settled himself on the ground. He moved his legs in front of them and sat on his heels while placing his hands on the floor before him so he could lean into your eyesight at his will.

"No, there are heaps!" You smiled as you slowly leaned in, finding yourself drawn to the tiny freckles along his face that were ever so softly glowing under the darkness of the unlit lab.

"Like what?" He asked, his tail still flickering behind him as your presence excited him.

You wanted to laugh, but he was so curious, and you wanted to help him. You wanted to preserve this feeling in your chest as he learned from you, and it was the first time he had shown any interest in finding out about the ways of the sky people, so you wanted him to feel informed.

"Oh well, there's shit and fuck, obviously."

"Lo'ak says those", Neteyam smiled as he finally put an origin to his brother's curses he called out whenever something went wrong, or someone said something he didn't care for.

"Who?" You asked, forehead creasing. It sounded like a name, but it could have been status in his clan, perhaps.

"My brother", Neteyam smiled fondly as he moved onto the subject of his younger sibling, the cause of so much love and divide amongst his family, mostly love.

"Ah, I see! Do you have many siblings?" You didn't know how family units worked in the alien's world. Were there the exact expectations of each member as it was back on Earth? You were chomping at the bit to learn everything.

"I have four", Neteyam nodded, hoping his word choice was correct.

"Wow! That's a lot. What are their names?" So Na'vi families were prominent. That was clear.

Was it? Neteyam didn't know, it was an average number in his village, but certainly, to the Metkayina, it would be considerable.

"Names?" He asked for the meaning of another word, feeling frustrated as your pace of speaking picked up, making it harder to understand.

"What are they called?" You tried again, slowing each word and giving him the time to contemplate them. Your tone was sweet, and your face was alight with passion; Neteyam's pupils widened to see you clearly.

"Well, Lo'ak is called a troublemaker, and Kiri is-", Neteyam misunderstood, taking your question as asking about what his wards were like instead of what his parents had called them all at birth.

You laughed, interrupting him as you set your question straight. It was an adorable mistake, and while your laughter embarrassed him as he took it as your way of making fun of him, the tone of your following words made him realize you were only amused by him, that he had made you happy.

"--No, no, I mean what your friends and stuff call you, for example, your name is Neteyam", oh how he loved when you said his name. He would keep you by his side forever and only ask you to say his name if he could.

"Ah, I see! There is Lo'ak, he is my brother, Kiri, my sister, Tuk, my youngest sister, and Spider, he is human like you", He wanted to tell you more, to tell you stories about each sibling, but he knew that would be pushing it with your shared comprehensible vocabulary lists. He loved his family, and he wanted you to love them too.

Your eyes widened with a queer look on your face as you listened, feeling suddenly very alert.

"You consider Spider to be your brother?" It was a simple question, but it made Neteyam question himself for a few seconds.

You knew of Spider. It was a massive scandal that had shadowed the operation of Pandora for years. The abandonment of a small child on an alien planet was brutal for people back on Earth to overlook. What made it worse was the RDA's abysmal attempt to cover its tracks which led to an explosion of outrage from the public once it was released.

Spider was sky people, a source of great evil, but Neteyam had grown together with the human boy, and he wasn't sure what he would consider Spider. Around was a good way to put it. Spider was always out and about every part of his life, nearly family but not entirely on the same line as Lo'ak, Tuk or Kiri.

"I suppose he is more Lo'ak and Kiri's family than mine or Tuk's", his brow creased, and his hands scrunched up, flying to his chest for a minute out of habit to fiddle with the knife he had attached to his cummerbund. He had a difficult life to elucidate, and while he loved teaching, his family's current dynamic was rigid.

"I understand; family can be hard" you reached out and placed a hand on the mighty man's knee, feeling his warm skin light your insides with inner peace.

Neteyam locked on your hand and let the one he had been using to fiddle fall onto yours, exhaling amusingly as his significant figure covered yours in its entirety. You were small, and it made him worry for your future when he thought about it.

"You strike me as a middle child, so who's the oldest?", your entire sentence except the end made no sense to him, so he latched onto the discernable part.

"I am the oldest", he didn't take note of your body seizing or your mouth dropping; instead, he took the time to slip his fingers beneath yours, fiddling with the fifth appendage you had in joint with his father, Kiri, and Lo'ak.

"Isn't that really important? You're meant to take over the clan, and you know… have kids with your mate?" You couldn't believe your terrible, evil, astoundingly shit luck. Out of any Na'vi men you could pine after, your heart just had to pick the one whose entire love life was everyone's business.

He chuckled, and you felt the sound travel through his hand, into yours, up your arm, and come to rest right in your stomach. It made you twist as the noise made everything in you flutter with a giddiness that you had been funny to him.

"Yes, I am meant to have plenty of babies, but I do not think I want children", his words felt sinful to himself as they escaped.

In his culture, it was of meager importance to have as many kids as possible to help carry out Eywa's plans, but Neteyam had started to wonder if perhaps Eywa's plans for him were to have none. He didn't care for the sound of crying or the work that came with them, he had plenty enough due on his plate as it was, and the thought of having you alone with children in Pandora made his skin crawl in a primitive need to grab you close and protect you.

"Well, that's okay, I haven't thought about them yet", you weren't sure about children just yet, and if you were to pursue Neteyam, that path would be shut from you, but it was interesting to ponder.

"Do you have siblings?" He suddenly asked, and you sadly smiled, interlocking your fingers with his.

"No, my planet is a hard place to live on, so we do not meet many people with siblings there", you had yearned for a sibling in your younger years that were filled with solitude, but now that you were an adult, you were glad not to have someone waiting for you at home.

"It must be so boring", he quirked his forehead as he tried to imagine a life without any of his once brain-celled family. He concluded that he wouldn't be the same and knew his family would have to agree.

"It can be, but let's not focus on that, let's go back to these", you shook the bag of rocks to your side halfheartedly. You had enough time to let your heart rest and were ready to explain yourself.

"Wait, what other swear words are there?" He asked, still clearly in a different field as he craved to learn more about you. His enthusiasm was cute, and you lovingly smiled as you moved back to speak further.

"Why do you wanna know? You planning on cussing somebody out?"

"What do you mean 'cussing somebody out'?"

"Don't worry about it, alright well, you've got fuck and shit as I said, but you've also got asshole, cunt, dick, bitch, bastard, there are hundreds, really", the amusement twinkled in your eye as Neteyam closely listened as if taking notes that were life or death.

"What is cunt?" He tilted his head and leaned back, looking over you as you taught him.

You couldn't help it now. Every word he got out had you giggling like a child as you explained the basic concepts of humanity to him.

"It's something mean you call someone, but it means uh…it's a human woman's--" You dumbly tapped at the lower point of your stomach and then keenly watched Neteyam's reaction as the message loaded in his head.

He grinned devilishly. He never failed to laugh heartily at the taboo self-consciousness of humans, with all their modest clothing, and he was excited for you to learn from him that none of that stuff mattered in his way of life. He didn't care for the idea of bringing up the fact that the image of you dressed in his native garments made his heart pound and his legs twitch.

He quickly batted the image away and moved the conversation forward.

"Ah, I see. Well what does bastard mean?" Neteyam was watching your movements and trying to interpret if you were getting irritated with explaining, but you seemed to have as much patience as he did.

"It means a guy whose parents weren't married when he was born", you knew he would ask plenty of questions about that one, so you decided to move on. It was getting later, and he would have to go home soon, less he stay here, fall asleep, choke on your air, and die at night.

"So, where have you been?" The old anger was wholly quenched, only a sad curiosity and need to understand taking over. You wanted to fix things before you moved on, and while Neteyam seemed pleased to put everything behind you and move on, the suppression wouldn't work for you.

Neteyam's sigh prolonged for several beats. He let the silence surround you before again filling his lungs with the device on his hip. He then tried to speak with only plain words so that you could understand him.

"My mother does not approve of us", he knew you wouldn't understand many of his words, but he continued.

"She promised to kill you if I came back, but I could not leave you. I like you" He wanted to say he loved you, but Neteyam held back. Those words were distinctly human, and the emotion always seemed to disrupt his life, so he settled for 'like.' Like was a good word, a strong word for now.

"I don't understand," you sighed, shrugging your shoulder as desperateness to know what he said turned to irritation at your lack of knowledge.

"You need to learn more, my mate. How will you come to tell my mother how wrong she is for hating you if you can't even speak, huh?" He reached forward and placed his hand united with yours on your head, splatting it down with such a gentle force that it made your nerves twinge.

He was so soft, so guiding, such a masterful role, and it did everything for you.

There were so many red flags that told you to turn back. The language barrier, the fact the giant was the next clan leader, his size compared to yours, his culture barrier, the fact your species were enemies, how your bodily functions couldn't operate at 100% in either one's natural environment. Yet the desire to become closer to him grew every moment he basked in alongside you.

His affectionate touch and protective aura made the spartan man seem like a guardian angel.

"God, I wish I knew what you said half the time", you mumbled, leaning closer to him as he fell into a trance at your doe-eyed gaze.

He retracted his hand to his side. He was in a stupor as he got closer, your familiar scent getting more robust with every inch he gained. His impulses called for him to mark you, to scent your body with his tongue and his sweat so every male in this human hotbox would know that even if he wasn't near, you were most certainly off limits.

"Neteyam", you whispered his name so immodestly as his face bent down to come within a hairs width of yours. It made his mind shatter from its sane hold.

Both of you were heaving in deep breaths, and Neteyam could feel the need to take another inhale of his natural air wane as his lust to touch you grew over everything.

"I am so happy to see you, my mate", Neteyam was so close you could see an old faded scar across the bridge of his nose from a life filled with conflict, and still, he leaned further.

He was finding it hard to stick with one conversation with you for a very long. The time spent away from each other had created combustion as you both tried to update each other on everything all at once, the emotions exploding as they ranged from sadness to anger to passion at a moment's notice.

"It's good to see you too", you blushed red after he spoke, and you tried to return his emotions at an equal velocity, but it was tough to be with someone who had been raised to be so open about love. Your military training had taught you to be guarded, and Neteyam had been taught to trust the love of a mate from a young age, but love was a fickle thing as a human.

Neteyam delighted in the color change of your cheeks. He brought a hand to your face so he could press into your skin and feel you closer as the heat radiated through the touch, making his rough palms pulse faster.

You closed your lids, feeling his presence become too immense and overpowering.

Neteyam adjusted his torso so his knees could split apart, letting his posture sink as his heels lay on either side of his behind. He brought his other hand to your hip, and his warm hands made your breath frigid as he gently tugged you closer, warranting the palm on your cheek to migrate to the back of your neck.

He brought you to his chest and gently crushed you close to his chest.

You appreciated the hold. His senses were all around, and you were captivated by the spell Neteyam's soul placed on you. Neteyam's body was so appealing, and the feeling of his heart under your forehead created a soothing rhythm that your heart matched.

"I missed you; I won't ever leave you for so long again, my girl", his voice coated your stomach and lined your heart.

There was something feral Neteyam created inside of you, a need to submit to him and please him with everything you did, but you wondered if he had the same feelings in his head.

The moment was interrupted by the slide door opening.

"Hey, y/n, do you have the--Oh! I am sorry I didn't know I was interrupting!"

Your eyes speedily jerked wide open, and you attempted to peel yourself from your lover, but his hold tightened, and his neck snapped up. Neteyam swiveled his head around with his instincts raising alarms at the intrusion.

That voice, where had you heard that? It was raising a red flag somewhere in your mind-- oh no.

Daniel had the lab opposite yours. He worked primarily with a blonde woman you hadn't been introduced to. He was the source of the rumor you had spun your top off at.

The silence that consumed the room and drowned you all was uncomfortable; well, you thought it was, but a growl that rumbled from Neteyam's chest and rattled your head told you he was distinctively guarded and not at all unnerved by the male's company.

Taglist:

It seems you would be forced to tell Neteyam what the cause of your raised hackles had been, and if the growling paramour above you were anything to go by, it would not be a peaceful understanding discussion.

@neteyamore @jkeluv @heesoftiefreak @ambria @azaleaniath @hellok1ttycake @nuhteyam @eternallyvenus @ellieswifefr @itscheybaby @fanboyluvr @phantomalex14 @sereisstuff @iikatsukii @eywas-heir @k----a27s @cilleabc @powowowy @annie-are-u-ok-blog @eddiesluvt @faerosie @faatxma, @nao-cchi @ellabellabus07, @neteyamforlife @wtf-why-do-i-gotta-do-this @heesoftiefreak @lixiesbrowniess @eringaitskill @islamovice17 @sassy-persona @mashiromochi @jkeluv @uwu-i-purple-you @projectdaydreamer-blog @bob-the-ikran @httpsplanetmarsdotcom @elegantkidfansoul @christinechickiee @notarabellasstuff @isometimeswritestuff @skogane @lilprettypetite @white-girl444 @imwutim @vanillawhale @annamarieisbae @zdkelena @kaealowri @elvyshiarieko @nerdybouquetofkittens-blog @luzberg @wrenieesworld @unicorntrooper @dreamergirljen @anxietydrogz @danyxthirstae01 @me753 @dani111-things @taleiak @neytemsgf @pineapplechuncks @reallysparklychaos @leilaniers @ex0 @just-a-sewer-goblin @holybroomstick @daddyslittlevillain @theendofthe70s @taintedxkisses @theblueflower05 @gwolf92 @sakuramadae @thedumboneforsomereason @desatando-me @hornknee-and-bi-myself @little-bunnybabe @angrycoffeebean @priyaisaslut @coldlamaspersonspy @rainbowsocks @formula1-bichyslut16 @1mawh0re @ancientbeing10 @katherines-imagines @jjkclub @oldfruitloop @ashrocker123 @ashrocker123 @heluvsst4rgir1 @bxnnywriting @valliesworld @laylasbunbunny @alexandra-001 @cacapeepee @prty-poisxn @jakesullyssluttt @dramaticwannabe @holywolfsstuff @abbersreads @vaness20 @littletrippyyhippyy @nofvckgivenn @saltedcoffeescotch @melllinaa @qtkat @rainbowpr1sm @epicy0n @lovergyal @elijangwifey @loveelisee @bandomonia @coldheartedmar @apple-asirb8 @jaymfpark @blooomsstuff @live-laugh-neteyam @nikinect @biscuitsaredelish @c78r @remiflrt @erodastylinson @69cocktimusprime @imjustasadpotato @marvelsimps @ihonestlydontknowwhattonamethis @kaileym08 @kneelforloki @zeida @winchestertitties @badoptimistic @nessrin @misscaller06 @avrgethanwinterslover @erenjaegerwifee @moony-artemis @gracefulbumblebee @killer-quokka @b-tchymoon @btsiguess-kpop @katecupcakekate @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @izuoyarmin @strnqer @phoenixgurl030 @kpopslur @gloryekaterina @shikkimari @grapejuice418 @colorfuldragonmagazine @heaven1oo4 @arminsgfloll @erenjaegerwifee @navegaluv @doingurmom69 @daribakugo @meritxellao @bedofpearls @vibinndyin @st8rg8zer @milfsarefineashell @alexizodd @llovergirlll @kenryug @bakersbucky @jojoblossom @chloem4a1 @ok-boke@ghostlycrystobalove @swaggygurlbae @reguluscrystals @wxcvzsstuff @naynay2808 @3okutos-3ig-toe @btslovergirl12 @serenn08

@strnqer @phoenixgurl030 @kpopslur @gloryekaterina @shikkimari @grapejuice418 @colorfuldragonmagazine @heaven1oo4 @arminsgfloll @erenjaegerwifee @navegaluv @doingurmom69 @daribakugo @meritidelmondoognisuabellezzaxellao @bedofpearls @vibinnnn @st8rg8zer @milfsarahmccoolefineashell @alexizodd @llovergirlll @kenryug @bakersbucky @jojoblossom @chloem4a1 @ok-boke@ghostlywriterr @swaggygurlbae @reguluscrystals @wxcvzsstuff @naynay2808 @3okutos-3ig-toe @deliwrites @tpwkweasley7 @crissteetee67 @the-faceless-bride @colorfuldragonmagazine @erenpookiebear

@m-rveronica @miawasikowska-brasil

@nikisrioting @ohshititsfenharel @your-girl-mj @spookymicrowave @babydukeclothing-blog213, @thatonegirlwiththebeanie367, @welcomebackfelicia @troubledfilm, @lovedbychoi @nicoletk @answer-the-sirens

@serpientez @kamcrazy123 @xiluvfictional-men, @novalies @chxrrybobaby-sin

#romance #x reader #avatar way of water #fanfic #neteyam x y/n #neteyam #awow imagines #awow fanfic #awow neteyam #neteyam imagine #neteyam x reader #neteyam headcanons

2K notes · View notes

spirantization · 2 months

Text

I need to talk about NATLA Katara because this girl has been on my mind so much recently. In another post regarding Sokka's character arc, I mentioned briefly how the changes to his characterization impact Katara's character in turn. Her adaptation has been one of the most heavily criticized aspects of NATLA; even people who liked the show often bring this up as one of the weakest parts of the series.

I've been sick and rewatching the OG animation and NATLA to see the adaptation choices more clearly (and also think about what s2&3 might look like). I've said previously that changing Sokka's arc meant that Katara's arc had to change, and that wasn't satisfactorily done. Upon rewatch, I have to disagree with my previous statements and the popular opinion about Katara's characterization.

Katara's journey in season 1 is about her growing into her role as a warrior, when she has spent her life being thrust into a passive role -- not able save her mother, having to listen to Sokka (as both her big brother and protector of the village), and not able to fight against the Fire Nation. The first time we see her, she's unable to bend; we see her consistently develop her bending abilities and her strength throughout the season. She confronts her past inability to save her mother. She stands up to Sokka to do what's right. She fights against the Fire Nation and protects the Northern Water Tribe.

Sokka's arc, as I've said previously, is about him struggling with his identity. He was thrust into a leadership and warrior role at a young age, and he's tied up so much of himself into what this means. His arc is about accepting that he doesn't have to be a warrior and doesn't have to be a leader.

It's a yin & yang characterization. Katara's place as a warrior, leader, and protector grows as Sokka's ebbs. Their arcs make the most sense when considered together. They're meant to be in harmony with one another. I see the intention of the storytelling present in their respective characterizations, and how they develop in connection to each other.

Unfortunately, so many people appear to have watched the first episode and either reacted negatively to the changes or stopped watching altogether. I've seen adjectives like "passive" and "bland" thrown around in reference to Katara. And on reflection/rewatch, I think that was the point: to start her off as someone who is afraid & weak in her power, and to grow her over the season into someone who is brave & adept in her bending. By the end of the season, we see a very different Katara from the one in the first episode.

It's alright if these changes didn't resonate with you and you preferred OG Katara's characterization and arc in Book 1 of the animation. They made a choice in the adaptation that was clearly a stumble for the majority of fans. Perhaps, now that they've done the work to get her there in NATLA from a different beginning, her season 2 characterization will more closely match her OG counterpart.

#atla #natla #natla positivity #avatar the last airbender #natla meta #i am on a one-woman crusade to change hearts & minds about the netflix adaptation #it's not bad it's just different

167 notes · View notes

thealtoduck · 9 months

Text

My Jolly Sailor Bold

Sam Winchester x Male Reader

Content: Old Timey Sailor AU? (Idk what to call it)

Warnings: Smut, Bottom!Reader, Top!Sam, age gap reader is 18 and Sam is 25, loss of virginity, anal sex, unprotected sex, fingering, spit as lube, missionary position…

Summary: During a walk you meet eyes with a handsome sailor and there is an instant connection…

(A/n: Honestly i’ve only seen like 6 episodes of Supernatural… like 2 years ago, so Sam might be very out of character… just so you know)

——

Your father was a merchant, a merchant who traveled and transported all sorts of goods across the sea to sell and bring home the money to his family. He had taken three of his sons to act as part of the crew of his ship only leaving the 2nd oldest and the youngest sons behind in their hometown.

He left Remus, the second oldest, in charge to take care of business and to care for his wife/Remus mother and the youngest son. And the youngest son is you Y/n L/n…

One summers morning you were walking through the shipping port, you had just seen off your father and your older brothers, they were going on another voyage on the dangerous ocean. Your mother had been crying seeing them leave again, as soon as they boarded she had gotten down on her knees praying for their safe return.

Your older brother Remus decided to escort her home, so he could comfort her over a cup of tea and some biscuits. But you wanted to see the ship leave port and decided to stay a bit longer.

As you walked you watched the different people, some were saying goodbye to loved ones as they were about board the ships, others were unloading the wares from far off places and even some kids just looking for a good spot to fish.

Then your eyes fell on a man, presumably a sailor, he had a very handsome face, he was looking out to the sea. The sailor’s attention had drifted from the sea… and on to you. Your eyes met his as you walked past and it felt as if your heart was pierced by cupid himself when he looked at you. You felt you would get odd glances by the crowds if you continued looking at each other for too long, so you broke eye contact and kept walking.

Once you reached the edge of the pier you sat down on the edge, legs hanging over the water. A while later you saw your father’s ship drift out of port slowly. But you noticed something, the sailor you had seen before was standing portside gazing longingly back at the dock.

Back at you…

You smiled at him, he smiled back.

You waved at him, he waved back.

Then another crew member seemed to call him over, he gave you one last smile and wave and then he turned around and left. And you watched as the ship traveled in to the distance before you left and went home.

A month later…

Your father’s ship should be returning today, so you, Remus and your mother once again traveled down to the port to greet your father and three brothers.

Though you weren’t only there for your father and brothers, their return would mean the unknown sailor would be returning along with them. Which meant you could finally meet him. The smile of the sailor had lingered in your head through the month there was something special about him.

Once you were at the pier you could see the merchant’s ship was approaching. As soon it had docked the gangway was lowered and the crew rushed off the ship to reunite with their loved ones.

Your father and three brothers stepped over the gangway together and greeted you, Remus and your mother lovingly. Your brothers immediately started telling you stories about the journey. But it was hard to keep up because all 3 of them were telling different stories at the same time.

Your father interrupted them saying ”Boys, boys, calm down there’s plenty of time for stories later”. He then turned to you, your mother and Remus and said ”First things first, we’ll have a guest for a couple of days, one of the sailors, he has no family or wife to go home to and i felt bad for the man, so i thought he could stay with us for a couple of days for some company”.

”See now where is he?” your father questioned looking around. ”Oh, there he is. Sam! Over here!” he called over the man. When you saw the sailor coming over it felt as if your breath was knocked out of your body.

It was the handsome sailor you had waved to when they left. He stopped in front of your family with a shy smile. ”This is Sam Winchester”. Your father introduced him first to your mother, then to Remus and lastly you.

”And this Sam, is my youngest son, Y/n” he introduced. You and Sam shook hands and you said ”It’s nice to meet you Mr Winchester”. ”Please, just Sam” he said with a nice smile. The eight of you then traveled back to your family home.

You spent the whole day listening to the never ending stories of your brothers adventures on the voyage. And it became a blessing when it was finally bedtime and you could finally escape them.

Though you couldn’t fall asleep that evening, it was just impossible. Your bed was either too warm or too cold, too soft or too hard, there was just no way to feel comfortable. You decided to get up and get a cup of tea and maybe read a bit.

Though when you walked down stairs in to the sitting room you were suprised to see Sam was up reading a book in candlelight. Sam looked towards you and said ”Oh sorry Y/n, did i wake you?”.

”No, don’t worry about it, i just couldn’t sleep” you explained and then questioned ”How about you?”. ”Couldn’t sleep either” he answered simply with a small smile. ”Would you like some tea?” you asked. ”I’d love some” Sam said.

You went in to the kitchen and lit some more candles for light and then started making some tea. You went back in the sitting room with a tea tray and sat down on the couch beside him.

You tried to think of conversation topics but Sam spoke up first saying ”You know, i remember you from the day the ship left, you were the only one who really saw me off and i wanted to thank you, it meant a lot, it kept me going on the raging sea as if i had someone to come back too”.

You smiled brightly at him. ”That means a lot to hear, i actually thought a lot about you, you seemed so mysterious… so i wondered who you were, what your name was and if i’d ever see you again” you told him, a warm look forming on his face.

”What were you reading?” you then asked looking at the book Sam had been reading. Sam looked at the book and said ”It’s an old tale about a sailor and what he sees during his travels, and at one point he believes he sees people of the sea, mermaids and mermen, he describes them as beautiful and graceful, pure of the sins of man and who’s echoing voices sounds like touching the softest silk”.

”In fact everytime i pictured them all i saw was you waving from that dock, from the way they’re described all i could see was your face” Sam revealed looking deeply in to your eyes. You were at a loss of words. Sam then caught himself saying ”Sorry, got a little-” he tried but you cut him off saying curiously ”Read me a passage, about the sea people”.

Sam smiled picking up the book, flipping a couple pages and read to you ”While passing the foreign lands, sitting on a rock close to the shore sat a young man of otherworldly beauty, the man was bare, his wet skin glistening in the sun. There was an ethereal esscense to him as he waved politely towards me”.

Sam moved closer to you as he countinued reading ”The man looked carefree and untouched by the sins of men, he was glowing as if he was untainted, sent from heaven. It made me want to get closer and touch him, to feel if his skin felt the same as mine, to feel his body pressed to mine to see if he remains as immaculate as when i first saw him”.

Sam finished and looked up from the book at you, meeting your gaze. He had put the book aside and put his hand on the side of your face, stroking it softly. ”That was beautiful” you said in an amazed whisper. ”I know, I was the one who wrote it… I wrote it about you” Sam said and pushed his lips to yours.

You had never been kissed before but Sam’s soft lips guided you. He took your hand in his squeezing it lightly. He then pulled away from the kiss saying ”Come with me” and he started leading you towards the guest room. He lead you inside and closed the door behind the two of you.

He then pulled you back in to a kiss, his arms around your waist pulling you closer to him, your clothed bodies pressed together. Sam led you to the bed making you sit down on it. ”Have you ever done something like this?” he asked in a kind tone.

You shook your head shyly. ”Do you want me to show you?” he asked, his hand lifting you chin ever so slightly. ”Yes” you told him. He then made you stand up again and started slowly undressing you.

You felt aroused as Sam lastly pulled off your night shirt leaving you naked in front of him. He looked you up and down as he stroked your hip trailing his fingers over your soft skin. ”You’re heavenly” he said feeling your body in his hands.

He then started undressing himself until he was fully unclothed too. ”Touch me” Sam instructed and guided your hand to his chiseled chest. You stroked his chest down to his to his belly button. He then took you hand and led it even lower, putting your hand on his manhood.

He squeezed his hand around yours making you stroke his manhood. ”Feel that, that’s what you do to me” he told you. He then led you back to the bed and made you lay down softly on your back and then layed down next to you and once kissing you.

He pulled back from you’re lips. ”You’re so pure, it makes me want to shelter you from all the evils of the world… but it also makes me want to be the one to stain your innocence and make you mine” he said letting his hands drift down to your crotch. His fingers grazing against your length making you let out soft excited moans.

”Make me yours” you told him as you took his hand and pressed it against your crotch. Sam gave you a light smile and moved from your side to towards the foot of the bed, he grabbed your ankles and parted them, speading your legs.

He then moved himself inbetween them, he leaned towards you and said ”Open your mouth”. You did as told and Sam put his middle and index finger in your mouth making you suck on them.

He then pulled them out and brought them to your untouched enterance trailing over it lightly. He then asked ”Ready?”, you nodded. Then you felt the strange feeling as his wet index finger started pushing in to you.

You gasped at the new feeling as he used his finger to pentrate you. It hurt a bit at first as he pushed in but then you started adjusting to him. Soon enough Sam pushed in his middle finger, streching you out even more, as that pain soon turned to pleasure Sam pulled out his fingers.

He then spit in his hand rubbed it over his manhood. Sam once more held your legs spread as he lined himself up with your enterance. He whispered gently ”Ready sweetheart?”. ”Yes” you answered and Sam slowly started pushing himself in to your tight virgin hole.

You threw your head back as you felt his thick length enter you, Sam covered your mouth as to not wake up your parents and have them find him deflowering their youngest son. ”Fuck” Sam swore as he felt your hole clench around his cock as it slowly sunk in to you.

Sam continued pushing all the way until his manhood was planted in you. ”You’re doing so well” Sam praised as he watched you breath deeply as you slowly adjusted to his size. Soon he noticed your pain was turning in to bliss. ”Sam” you moaned deeply.

Once your pained features had turned to ones pleasure Sam slowly started rolling his hips carefully, pushing his length in and out of you as gently as he could. Your arms were wrapped Sam’s back as the foreign sensation of his cock made you uncontrollably moan.

Sam placed kisses along your collarbone as his cock was kneaded by your warmth. ”You’re so beautiful” Sam told the virgin boy beneath him as he watched him be defiled by his manhood, it was a once in a lifetime sight.

Sweat started forming between the two of you and to Sam you looked just like described in his book, your damp skin really was glistening from the moonlight that entered the room. Sam started rolling his hips faster making you wrap your legs around his body.

The two of you had become a wet tangeled mess as Sam thrusted gently in to your ass giving you a sense of euphoria as he hit your prostate, giving you a feeling you could only ever dream off.

”Sam” you moaned as you felt a sudden new feeling as if you were about to erupt. Then your hard cock started shooting cum all over yours and Sam’s abdomens. This made Sam go feral and he shoved his face in the crook of your neck, planting deep kisses as he moaned.

His thrusts became rougher as he searched for his own release while saying animalistically ”I’m gonna fill you with my cum”. And with a last roll of his hip, his cock pushed deep inside you, he burst, filling you up with his seed. He then slowly pulled out of you, sitting on his kness between your legs.

He looked down on the beautiful young man he had deflowered, leaving him leaking with his load. Sam felt proud of himself. He laid down next to you with a gentle smile and said ”You were amazing” and planted a kiss on your lips.

You were close to falling asleep as you were all tuckered out from the experinence. Sam went and got up and got a rag to clean you up with, once he finished he helped you back in to your sleep wear. Then he carried you to your room putting you in bed saying ”Goodnight, beautiful” kissing your cheek one last time before you fell asleep.

Sam went back down to the sitting room and got his book, taking it back to the guest room placing it on the writing table, the next day he would write another chapter in it.

#sam winchester x male reader #sam winchester x male!reader #supernatural x male reader #supernatural x male!reader #sam winchester x male reader smut #x male reader #male reader #x male!reader #x male reader smut

788 notes · View notes

titan-senpai · 1 year

Text

The Pearl of my life

A/N; Since i'm taking a break of Neteyam i figured it was time to give Ao’nung more love <33 Okay no Angst this time , might make this into a mini series tho- ( I have an headcanon that if a na'vi asks a navi to be their mate they go on one knee kinda like proposing..and alot more buy yall are going to see it obvi loll) Maybe a few spelling mistakes loll

Ao’nung x Metkayina F pregnant reader

~ Y/N a Quiet girl who didnt like drama and avoided any drama and guy who asked for her hand… How did she end up with the Olo’eyktans son? You ask me lolll.

Years ago Ao’nung noticed a girl sitting by the water while his group laughed and played with a group of Kids.. That girl stood out. A lot of people knew her as the odd quiet one, But they did notice her beauty and so did a lot of young warriors.. but she rejected every one she came by.. till she finally faced Ao’nung years later… At age 15 they connected like soulmates even though Y/N didn't like to talk a lot to strangers. Surprisingly she was talkative and nice. She was just shy with new people.. but soon with the help of Ao’nung she started talking more.

years later Ao’nung asked for Y/N hand to be her mate..She said yes in a heartbeat… at 19~ let’s see how the lovely young couple is doing.

~Year 2174..

“Will You be my mate?” He asked Going down on one knee, holding her hand on his forehead, Closing his eyes, waiting for an Answer. “Oh.. Nung.. Yes..” Moving her hand to cup his face.

As he stood up Putting their foreheads together “Always..” Y/N smiled as tears fled down her cheeks.

The news broke through the clans even through some neighboring clans, “You sure you want him??” Lo’ak Laughed about it “Shush child I’m happy to have another daughter” Ronal patted Lo’ak on his shoulders ``it will be your turn soon” Y/N smiled Pointing at Tsireya and Lo’ak as they both blushed in union. “Who knows in the future but let’s focus on you two now shall we.” Tonowari said glaring at Lo’ak with a protective father look.

~A month later Ronal Convinced her son to mate with Y/N tonight.. The moon was perfect, everything was calculated by her and tonight was it. you were going to be his.. and he was going to be yours

Like the Omatcaya have the tree of voices the metkayina have a Cave of Voices, covered in Colorful corals and crystals, symbols on the inside of the cave with some glowing crystals.. as you made the bond for the first time everything felt new and it felt out of this world.. that was the night when 2 souls danced as 1 for the first time..

~9 Months passed quickly now holding a Baby navi boy that you just gave birth to 10 mins ago

ronal said hello to her first Grandson.. "He looks exacly like ao'nung when i had him.." She smiled waving her finger around so that he would hold her finger in his tiny hands " He is pretty cute, let's just hope he wont end up having his personality.." I smiled as she laughed at my comment "I'm sure he wont" as she stood up from the bed "I'll let him in now goodluck." She smiled opening the door "You can go see her now" before she could say anything Aonung flew by his mother to see his child. "Shush dont make so much noise." i placed a finger over my lips shushing him. as he gulpted and sat down next to me. "Meet your father.." I handed him over to Ao'nung helping him hold the baby.. " Hello there son, Ive been waiting for you for a while now.. cant believe how strong your mother is.." he said smiling as he played with him. soon the rest followed Tsireya,Tonowari, Roxto, and the sully's oh and aonung's now 4/5 year old baby brother Zani't ( Random name)

everyone said hello and had some time with the precious baby, but soon everyone left and it was just the 2 of you or should i say 3 of you "You got a name yet? " I smiled looking down at the baby peacefully sleeping in my arms "Ao'nung Jr?" He joked " I wil not call our child ao'nung Jr, No way " I slapped him on his neck "Ow-owh okay okay how about..Käioe?" "Käioe? I like it." i smiled as he kissed my cheek "Käioe it is"

"Our little family was finally starting..."

More of my avatar content?? check it out <;33

661 notes · View notes

citrus-soju · 2 months

Text

I already talked about it in this post, but I want to share all of my thoughts properly.

The Metal Masked Assassin (I'll refer to him as MMA) was an incredibly unlucky person when you think about it. His mother passed away right after he was born. It's assumed she either died of blood loss due to birth complications, or she might have even been murdered, due to her baby being born with albinism.

We don't know anything about his father's whereabouts, if he's alive or dead, if he would take his children in if he knew. Either way, he's not in the picture. But unluckily, MMA was "left a brother".

Logically, we can put together that MMA's brother was older than him. We don't know for sure how many years the two siblings were apart, though. Judging by the picture of them as teens, their age difference doesn't appear to be too great. Of course, MMA might simply be tall, even as a teenager, and looking older than he really is.

There's also a possibility that, while both of them are depicted as teenagers in this picture, Agent 216 was actually already an adult while MMA was still young. It would make more sense for authorities to leave an infant in the care of a relative who's over at least 16 years old than leaving two young children completely on their own.

We can only speculate about their childhood years, honestly, since there is not much known at all. They could have been adopted by a distant relative, placed in a foster family, given up for adoption... But one thing is for sure, just from looking at these pictures - Even as teenagers, they were already prone to violence, and already hiding their faces.

Perhaps they got by thanks to armed robberies, perhaps they were already training to be assassins at this age. Personally, I'm voting for the first option, just because their clothes appear to be in a bad condition, holes and all, which is not the case in the image depicting them as adults. Their weapon of choice is also quite different; the bat and axe being more commonly used for self protection or work, and the machete/knife looking much more professional.

But now to the part I've been wanting to talk about.

Let's start with what we know about Agent 216. According to General Crozier, he is a "trained killer". That means, someone, or some kind of organization, must have taken him under their wing and taught him the art of being an assassin at some point. At least as a teenager. It's never specified where the two assassins got their education from. But however and wherever they spent their youth; Agent 216 was most likely the more skilled assassin, considering he's the one the General confides in and claims to be "perfect".

Ah yes, General Crozier. At least as an adult, Agent 216 must have some sort of connection to the US Military, or at least General Crozier directly, since it's him who personally hires him, and then informs MMA about his death later. No other tribunal members are present, nor are they aware that he was hired to kill, not just to spy.

What I find really interesting is that Agent 216 has a tattoo of the FalconBack Project logo on his left arm. Whatever that means. It makes me wonder if he and Crozier have some kind of connection outside of the deal, and if the assassination attempt on Dethklok was more of a personal favor to the General instead of a one time deal. Whatever connection they have was apparently meaningful enough for Agent 216 to get involved in a top secret project led by Salacia himself - but not his younger brother.

This raises a whole bunch of questions, but that's for another day and another post.

So where is MMA in all this? Where was he in all this?

While MMA is a violent person and seemingly has a passion for murder, what stood out to me is that he is never actually seen involved in any assassination related jobs that don't directly involve avenging his dead brother in a way - besides that one time where he's introduced. The people he fixates on besides Dethklok themselves are Klokateers and Charles Ofdensen, in particular. Perhaps that can simply be blamed on MMA's lack of screen time, but I would leave it up to Brendon Small to consider any small detail.

MMA appears to be as goal driven and determined as he is violent, with only a single goal in mind throughout the entire series - avenging Agent 216, regardless of what it may cost. He's willing to dispose of anyone who gets in his way, including his allies (Magnus).

What I'm thinking is... what if he wasn't even a blade for hire before the death of his brother? What if the only reason why Crozier was able to "hire" him was because of his promise for revenge? What if Agent 216 was the "actual" assassin among them, while MMA was more or less a sick and dependent child who simply got caught up in the situation?

This sounds farfetched but hear me out.

Regardless of how they grew up, regardless of what led up to this point; MMA's older brother was clearly very dear to him. So dear, in fact, that avenging him consumed every bit of space on his mind. While MMA willingly recruited people to assist him in his cause, for the most part, he used people who felt wronged by Dethklok for his own gain. Instead of viewing them as likeminded individuals, he saw them as underlings. Even Magnus, who did most of the "negotiating" during DSR, treated Toki's wounds and fed him, was just a puppet to MMA in the end. Once Magnus didn't cooperate with him anymore (claiming that the death of Ishnifus "wasn't part of his plan"), MMA didn't hesitate to show who's the REAL mastermind behind it all ("this was never your plan").

Throughout the series, we definitely saw that MMA has a tendency to use people for his benefit, and discard them once they're no longer useful to him, without any consideration for their feelings, or even their lives. We also learn that he's not much of a "talker" and much rather a "do-er". He leaves all the talking to Magnus, who dramatically goes off to Toki and Abigail about his reasoning, while MMA is in the background only thinking about revenge and his brother.

He seems to do very poorly with things not going his way. He doesn't listen to instructions from Crozier. He refuses to let Magnus berate him. Like a child, he no longer wants to play the game if it's not by his rules.

This is acquired behavior. Which means, somebody taught him that this is the way to go through live. Most likely - his older brother.

While he clearly holds a lot of admiration for Agent 216, it makes me wonder. The contrast between how much he looks up to his brother and how much he looks down on other human beings is stark. It's almost like he looks up to his brother like he's some kind of God leading him on his path, even displaying his body during the torture of Toki and Abigail. He MIGHT just be a crazy dude with a lust for blood who saw an excuse to kill and torture. He MIGHT just be very obsessed with the only person he has a real connection with.

Or perhaps, his brother isn't the good person he views him as.

I believe Agent 216 might have always made MMA feel inferior to him, knowingly or not. Being labeled the "perfect" assassin, the older brother who was kind enough to raise an abandoned baby, the one fending for them. Plus, with MMA having some visible physical deformities, he most likely was the "better looking" one, too.

Perhaps the reason why MMA isn't seen assassinating anyone for other reasons than revenge is that his brother simply took the spotlight. In the best case, Agent 216 merely wanted to protect MMA from this kind of lifestyle, both because he's his little brother who he cared for, as well as considering Albinism comes with a long list of potential health issues, depending on the exact diagnosis. Examples are vision problems, ranging from nystagmus (rapid uncontrollable eye movements) to legal blindness, sensitivity to (sun)light in both eyes and skin, a weaker immune system, a higher risk of infections, premature aging, etc.

Or perhaps all these things were a lot of excuses for Agent 216 to treat his little brother harshly and cast him into the shadows.

Tidbits that made me put this together in my mind would be, for example, the fact that MMA is covered in scars, while Agent 216 is not. Strange, considering that his targets are mostly seen tied up, hanging from hooks or otherwise immobilized. And somehow, all these scars look the same. They all look as if they were inflicted by... a machete perhaps.

In early concept art, MMA is shown with what appears to be burn marks. They almost look as if they were deliberately inflicted on him. The spotting doesn't exactly appear like he got caught in a fire, much rather that they came from separate instances.

And one more thing, which might just be an observation I made that you might disagree with. But as someone who worked with both abused and disabled children in the past... I recognize some of his patterns and behaviors.

Looking up to the one person caring for him without even a second thought. Enduring great pain for their sake. HAPPILY doing so. Not being great at dealing with instructions. Not handling it well when someone disagrees with him or even scolds him. Letting the "adult Magnus" do the talking for him in difficult situations. Struggling to relate to people, perhaps even due to low emotional intelligence, or simply not understanding that people have feelings. Not CARING if they have feelings, possibly. Using people for his benefit, then discarding them like dolls he's done playing with once they're not useful anymore.

All acquired behaviors somebody taught him in his life.

Considering his condition, harsh upbringing and visible deformities, it wouldn't surprise me if he was a younger age mentally. His behavior is almost childlike in ways. The way he phrases things, too. Revengencers, instead of Revengers. The fact that he has these scars, yet his brother didn't have a single one on him.

This might be a reach. A big reach. But what if Agent 216 had him completely wrapped around his finger. All like "I had to endure so much for your sake, so I have a right to take my anger out on you", and perhaps followed up by an "I do this because I love you and because that's the only way you learn". I can see him making MMA feel inferior, for his appearance, for needing food, medication, comfort. Guilty for "killing" their mother. For being a burden. How dare he want love. Isn't it enough that he puts his life on the line for him every day? What is love? Baby don't hurt me

To me, he's a lost, disabled person stuck in a trauma bond with his brother until the end.

#metalocalypse #mtl #metal masked assassin #mma #agent 216 #general crozier #headcanons #analysis #character analysis #media analysis #magnus hammersmith

51 notes · View notes

murasaki-cha · 7 months

Note

I've recently gotten into web comics but I don't like most of the male characters in romance comics, they do some really creepy things that seem to just get swept under the rug. Do you have any recommendations for some good romance comics?

*cracks neck* I've trained for this day for years

This is going to be a combination of manhwa, manhua, webtoons and probably some manga too, of all kinds of genres, most are my favorites and I'll explain why so pick whatever catches your interest.

Post is going to be super long so:

I Stan The Prince -> starting of with a strong one, the fl writes a fanfiction about the notorious ex crown prince and raises his popularity. Now she has to work with him and write another book all while dealing with political drama and dark royal secrets. This manhwa rescently just came back from an incredibly long hiatus, it has no novel it's an original manhwa and the main couple are literally the cutest most in love mutual pining idiots ever they're married they just don't know it yet

Hidden Love -> Warning this has a 7 age gap! The story starts when the fl is 13 and meets her brothers dormmate and falls in love with him but keeps it a secret and they lose contact. Years later when she's in college she reunites with the brother's friend and old feelings start to resurface and he slowly falls for her now that she is an adult. I am going to repeat this only once, no grooming, no weird underage romance, ml never liked her like that when she was a child her romance was one sided back then, both are consenting adults now. The fl helps ml with his struggling past and makes him realize he is worthy of love. The fl is strong and confident and she's the one saving the ml multiple times. The ml is literally such a green flag even if he's a big flirt when "courting" her. It's an incredibly touching story and it even has a drama

Eternal Love/First Froat -> set in the same universe as the story above, this is about the love story of the prev fl brother and the mc, his high school classmate. Both had a crush on each other back then but the fl pushed him away coldly and they seperated. Years later they met by chance and by chance yet again ended up as roommates. Slowly they realize the feelings never went away and they keep getting drawn to each other but the horribly tragic past of the fl and the reason she pushed the ml away slowly uncoveres too. This is a beautiful story of a love that never stopped. The mcs are literally meant to be and the fl is so strong after everything she's been through. And the ml is the most patient, caring mam ever everyone deserves a man like him. Literally the standard. Both these books can be read as stand alones but there are some hilarious moments that can only be completely understood if you read them both

Savinvg My Sweetheart -> You will cry so hard while reading this. Fl is the saintess' daughter and after the death of her husband who she was politically married to, she goes back in time a few months before their marriage and only has one goal, to save her kind husbad from her mother even if it causes her death. Both the fl and ml love each other so incredibly much but both think the other hates them because of the forced marriage yet that misunderstanding doesn't stop them from being the literal greatest cople ever! The are such a healthy couple and both are incredibly fleshed out and not just making romance their entire point of existance. Fl slowly gathers powers in order to stop her biological mother who is evil incarnate and save everyone. Ml works together with fl and on his own in order to strengthen his kingdom. And the link that connects them will literally have you crying for the next 20 years. The story is more of a found family/romance and it's one of the most well written stories ever, you will almost never find one loophone everything is planned to the T

Caught By The Villain -> the ml might start bad here but I'm telling you his character development is simply 👌 ✨️. Fl gets transported into the world of this novel she read as the twin sister of a minor villain. Later she has to join knighthood disgusted as her brother and somehow gets chosen as the personal guard of the crown prince, aka main villain, but also with the og!ml which is somewhat different from the story. Ok I'm going to start by saying the title is literally the greatest clickbait ever because almost everyone but the villain catch her and discovered she's a girl. The story has great representation and discusses about a lot of topics like gender and sexuality which you almost never find talked in manhwas. The ml starts bad but slowly by spending time with fl he realizes his mistakes, sincerely apologises tho does not expect forgiveness, promises to change and does keep his word, genuenly loves and cherishes her and is an all round little meow meow and I love him. He's a bi disaster too. Fl is strong and under lots of stress. She slowly gets closer with ml and realizes he's not just the big bad evil villain from the novel and the closer they get and the more genuine their friendship becomes, the more she feels guilty for hiding her true identity from ml. And the og!ml is a special case that I don't even wanna touch with a 10 foot pole so theres that. The development all these characters go through is slow and so perfectly written you don't even realize how much they changed until you go back and realise they're not the same as the beginong

Even If You Split My Mouth -> manga with japanese urban legends which means it has some gore and body horror. The story follows a Kuchisake-Onna and her contract fiancé, a 17 yo boy who has the power to strengthen her legend with his words so she won't disappear. She doesn't want this engagement while he is in love with her so they form a pact, if she can scare him within a year the engagement is off, if not than they get married. This is one of those stories that start all silly goofy but end up having some of the deepest lore ever. The fl is super cute for a yokai and she blushes a lot every time ml flirts. Ml is completly unphased by her scare attempts and loves her to bits. They're such a dumb cute couple and their love story is so fun and sad sometimes. All the side characters are entertaining and lovable. Really there's not one bad thing I can say about this manga, it deserves more love

You Are My Desire -> high school sweethearts and later uni sweethearts. Fl moves to a new city and school after her parents messy divorce and her father's remarriage. While looking around she stumbles upon a tatoo shop and amazingly embarrasses herself in front of the tattooist. On the first day of school she happens to end up as deskmates with that same tattooist who's coincidentally the school tyrant but slowly it becomes visible this tyrant doesn't act like a tyrant at all and so a weird relationship is born out of the two of them. The two mcs are one of the best couples I've ever read. They slowly heal heach others wounds and teach each other that they love them even with their scars. I don't wanna say a lot since the manhua only has aroumd 20 chapters and there's so much story from the novel that hasn't been told yet. There's slso a drama that was rescently released

Daytime Star -> modern manhwa. An actress who has been cast as nothing but an extra for almost 10 years lands a small role where she gets to play along one of the best male actors in the industry. After that they both can't stop thinking about each other and that's how their love story begins. One of the healthiest modern manhwa couples ever! They're literally so cute they will call you single in all languages pf the world and more. I also loved that the fl slowly rose to fame almost all on her own using her own strength and talent with very few minor moments where others helped. It's a great story and it talks about the struggles of working on the korean entertainment industry too

Villains Are Destined to Die -> oh where do I begin with this masterpiece! Fl gets transmigrated into a dating sim she was playing as the villaines and she's currently in the hard mode which makes it super dificult for her to clear the game. She has to increase the affection percentage of the capture targets so she can go back to her old life and avoid the bad ending which always results in her death. This is literally one of those stories that gets you hooked on the very first chapters alone. Fl goes through so much and she's such a tragic character. All she wants is a peaceful life and she works damn hard for it. Her family is just exhausting but they slowly develop besides SOME who shall not be named. The ml, which you'll probably figure out who it is lile halfway through because he's just that iconic, is literally THE BEST, THE STANDARD! I love him so much and it might not show it in the begining chapters but he's is just perfect. The romance is more secondary tho and the story focuses more on the fl's struggles to survive and the discovery of the secrets that can change the fate of the entire kingdom.

See You In My 19th Life -> this rescently got a drama and I recommend watching that too. Fl is a reincarnator who remembers all her lives besides the first one. In her 19th life she resolves to find a boy form her 18th life who made her enjoy life again after so many reincarnations and made her wish she was reincarnated once again. She manages to get a job in the hotel he manages and immediately asks him to date. Thus begins the story of her following and flirting with her love from the prevous life without him knowing it's her and slowly healing his scars and traumas while also solving the mystery of her reincarnation. The story us full of mystery and absurdly cute couples. The ml is traumatized by fl's death since she died quite literally right in front of his eyes when he was really young and he also has a crap ton of family drama to deal with. The fl loves the him so much and tries her best to help him not just physically but emotionally too. She's like a breath of fresh air for the ml and their love is just so selfless. He loves her even when he doesn't know she's his first love reincarnated. The side couple is literally amazinv too and I would need an entire paragraph to talk about them too. The mystery of the webtoon always keeps you on the edge. Overall amazing webtoon and has an amazing kdrama!

(I'm getting tired and I have to wake up early tomorrow so I'm just gonna drop some titles with no explenation now. There might be some shounen ai in there fyi)

A Stepmother's Marchen

How To Win My Husband Over

Death To Lady White Ferret

Positively Yours

Business Propsal (Also has a great kdrama)

Sasaki to Miyano

A Good Day To Be A Dog (kdrama rescently started)

Till Debt Do Us Apart

Shoujinkou Nikki

Hirano to Kagiura

Given

The Reason Why Raekiana Ended Up At The Duke's Mansion (also has an anime)

Once More

Love Like Cherry Blossoms

Tsuiraku JK to Haijin Kyoushi (it's a student x teacher but honestly it's more of a dark comedy manga and it's hilarious so I recommend it)

I Raised Cinderella Preciously

The Perks of Being A Villainess

Ajatsuki no Yona

My Secretly Hot Husband

Ok that's all I can squeeze out of my brain for now. Hope you enjoyed the recs

#manhwa #manhwa recommendation #manga #manga recommendation #manhua #manhua recommendation #romance #mura answers asks

68 notes · View notes

klbwriting · 2 months

Text

Not Romeo, Not Juliet

Chapter 10: Never Did Run Smooth

Fandom: Red Hood

Pairing: Jason Todd x f!reader

Warnings: none

Summary: YN comes to see Jason, he tells her the truth

The course of true love never did run smooth

— A MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S DREAM, ACT 1 SCENE 1

“What are you doing here?” Jackson demanded as he approached YN. She stood up from the bench, fists clenching as the three seniors surrounded her. Jason walked up quietly, listening to the conversation.

“I’m here to see someone,” she said. She noticed Jason but kept her attention on the others, her fists relaxing. She had no reason to fear Jason and she knew that he wouldn’t let anyone hurt her.

“Who are you seeing?” Matt asked. Chelsea took a step closer to her, making YN roll her eyes.

“None of your business,” she said. “Now please, can I just wait in peace?” Chelsea glared.

“Watch your tone here bitch, you’re not in Gotham anymore,” she said.

“Clearly, I’m in Bludhaven home of mediocre John Hughes movie,” YN said. Chelsea looked confused. “Lord, just leave me alone…” Chelsea shoved her hard enough to have her sit back on the bench. Her hand moved to slap YN, but Jason caught her arm, sliding himself between the seniors and YN, who stood up behind him.

“Hands off,” Jason said. He reached back, taking YN’s hand. Once he saw no one moving back towards her he looked over. “You want to go somewhere else?” She nodded. Chelsea glared.

“Is this the girlfriend Jason?” she asked, saying girlfriend like it had a nasty taste. He held up YN’s hand. “Gross, traitor.” Jason sighed.

“It's high school theater Chelsea, not tsarist Russia,” YN said. “In another year no one here will care that you ever went to this school or did a shitty job playing Ophelia.” The seniors looked scandalized as Jason gently YN and they started walking towards the outdoor lunch area.

“She looked like her head might explode,” Jason said with a laugh. He looked down at YN, seeing a tight smile on her face. “My brother blocked your number.”

“I figured something like that, didn’t think you were the type to just disappear,” she said. He set down his bag on a bench by small rose garden that surrounded the lunch tables. “I’m sorry, I’m not sure why he hates me, but I’m sorry about it. I mean I didn’t ask to be born poor…”

“Its not because you’re poor,” Jason said softly. He didn’t know how to tell her about her father. How do you break that kind of news to someone? ‘O ya, your dad is a crime lord and my brother things you’ll become one to, so I’m not allowed to date you because my dad once had a hard on for Catwoman…o did I mention he was Batman?’ Ya, that would go over well.

“Then why doesn’t he want us to see each other?” she asked. He looked down, not sure what to say. “Please tell me, I miss you, you honestly are my best friend Jason and I thought, well, even if that’s all we are I just want my friend back.” The look in her eyes and the break in her voice pushed him over the edge.

“He found out who your father is,” Jason said. Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open, that was clearly not the answer she was expecting. Jason slid an arm around the back of the bench, and she automatically leaned towards him, staring at him. He wished he could look into her eyes forever. “Your father is Sal Maroni, the crime lord, Dick used his connections to find out about that and…” he really didn’t know how to continue.

“Tell me,” she said, voice barely audible. She had tears threatening to spill over now and she had started gripping his hand hard, needing to ground herself into the moment.

“According to Dick’s sources Sal thinks you might be his best bet on a successor to his business. I guess he’s the one paying for your school and your apartment, and when you graduate, he’s going to offer to pay for your mother’s treatment in exchange for you joining his ‘family’” he said. He winced a little at how hard she was squeezing his hand. The tears that had been forming were now spilling from her eyes. “Dick seems to think…”

“That I’ll go become some underworld crime boss to try and save my mom’s life?’ she asked, voice now full of barely contained rage. Jason nodded. “What do you think?”

“I think you would never do anything like that, I think that you’re a good person and you love your mom, but you would never run off to become some kind of gang leader,” he said. YN nodded.

“You would be right; I love my mom. Which is why I would rather stab Maroni in the testicles than join him. How dare that fucking asshole decide that my mom’s life is only worth something if he can use it to get something out of me. How fucking dare he think that I would ever…” she was fuming, standing now and pacing the grass. Jason stood also, watching. “And your brother…how did he find out about this?”

“He’s Dick I honestly don’t know how he finds out anything…”

“He’s a dick alright, judging me by my parent’s. If I did that with you, I’d think you were just some drunk drug addict, or some playboy depending on which parents I wanted to go with, but no, I don’t look at you and think like that, I just think I love you…” she rambled before biting her lip and looking down. Jason felt his heart stop.

“You love…me?” he asked, words almost failing him. How could she possibly love him? How did anyone love him? Jason had never been good with self-esteem, not when he was a little kid who wasn’t worth enough to his mother to get clean, when he lived with Bruce and never seemed to live up to the standard that Dick set, and not with Dick where he couldn’t seem to do anything right, how could he ever be worthy of love? YN looked at him like he was insane.

“Of course, I love you,” she said as if it were fact, a small smile on her face. When he was quiet a moment too long her face began to change, her smile fell, and she looked worried. Jason wanted her to smile again but his mouth was dry, and he couldn’t seem to find words, so he stepped towards her, gently taking her face in his hands and he kissed her. She answered eagerly, hands finding purchase on his chest and Jason suddenly felt at peace. He’d never felt this way before, even when he died he could only remember chaos, but this, her lips on his, hands gripping his uniform shirt, his hands feeling the warmth of her skin, this was peace, this was heaven, this was what being alive was about. When they parted he wanted to immediately kiss her again, feel that peace and that happiness. He took a deep breath, leaning his forehead to hers.

“I love you YN,” he whispered. He hugged her close, just holding her for a while. “I’m going to get a phone on the way home, one my brother won’t know about, I’m sorry that I didn’t get one sooner.” She just nodded into his chest, head sitting right over his heart. “Let me take you home.” She nodded, taking his hand as they walked towards where he parked his bike.

Jason woke up, groaning as he looked at the phone Dick had bought him. It was only 4AM, why did he have so many messages? He opened them, frowning several of the other theater kids were asking about him and YN and what was up with her dad. His heart dropped as he clicked the link one of them sent. It opened to a Gotham news article, a video playing that clearly showed him and YN talking on the bench. It was their whole conversation and the kiss, the article talking at length about him being the missing son of Bruce Wayne and YN being the illegimate daughter of Sal Maroni. Jason felt his world spinning. Not only was Bruce going to definitely know he was alive now but everyone would know about YN, including several people who would very much so like a conversation with her. He reached under his mattress for the burner phone he had bought, finding several missed calls from YN. He called back.

“Jason?” he heard, her words slurred.

“YN? I’m coming right now,” he said, already up and getting dressed.

“I don’t want anyone to hurt my mom…” she said, clearly still sobbing.

“No one is going to hurt her or you, I’m coming to get you, I don’t care what Dick says I will bring you both here and we will figure something out,” he said, getting on his bike. “Give me five minutes, I’ll be there.” He hung up and took off. The streets of Gotham were nearly empty this early in the morning and it did only take him five minutes to pull up to her apartment. He ran up the stairs two at a time, but froze when he saw the door standing open, hanging by one hinge. He stepped inside the apartment where her mother was lying on the floor, panting.

“Are you hurt?” Jason asked, kneeling by her, helping her to stand slowly. She shook her head.

“Someone took her,” she said. Jason nodded, swallowing hard. He needed to stay calm. He got her mother back to bed, calling the emergency nurse they had to come see to her. Then he started searching. The living room looked like there had been a struggle, furniture out of place, the coffee table in pieces, her phone smashed on the floor. Then he saw the note lying nicely on the kitchen table. He walked over, careful not to touch it. He felt a surge of rage go through him.

Maroni, she’s at dock 15, bring the evidence and 50k, Falcone

#jasontodd #jason todd #redhood #red hood #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood x y/n #notromeo

25 notes · View notes

ametrinearrows · 7 months

Text

Family Heirlooms

The arena buzzed with excitement as the crowd roared in anticipation of another thrilling WWE event. Among the sea of fans, I stood backstage, nervously adjusting my gear. My heart raced not just because of the match ahead, but also due to the unexpected reunion I was about to experience.

"Calm down, YN," I whispered to myself, taking deep breaths.

"Cody Rhodes, YN Rhodes, you're up next!" a crew member called out.

I glanced at myself in the mirror one last time before making my way towards the curtain. As I stepped through, the crowd's cheers grew even louder. I felt a surge of energy as the familiar theme music of my brother Cody echoed through the arena. I followed him, my heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and nerves.

The match was intense, the crowd on their feet with every move we made. Working alongside Cody was an incredible experience; the connection we had as siblings seemed to translate seamlessly into our teamwork.

As the match reached its climax, a rival duo cornered Cody in the ring. Just as they prepared to launch their finishing move, I intervened, sending them sprawling with a perfectly timed dropkick. Cody and I shared a quick nod before turning the tables on our opponents.

After the match, we walked backstage, sweat-soaked and breathing heavily. Cody flashed me a grin, and I couldn't help but smile back.

"YN, that dropkick was amazing! You've really stepped up your game," Cody praised, clapping me on the back.

"Thanks, Cody. I've been practicing," I replied, trying to hide the genuine pride I felt from his compliment.

Later that evening, as the stars of WWE mingled backstage, I found myself standing near the catering area, lost in my own thoughts. A voice brought me back to reality.

"Hey there, YN."

I turned around to see Seth Rollins, a fellow superstar and old friend, approaching me.

"Hey, Seth. Long time no see," I greeted him with a smile.

"Yeah, it's been a while. I've been watching your matches lately, you're really shining out there."

"Thanks, that means a lot."

Seth's gaze drifted towards the pendant I wore around my neck – a delicate silver chain with a small, ornate key hanging from it.

"Who gave you this?" Seth asked, pointing to the pendant.

I instinctively touched the pendant, a wave of emotion washing over me. "It's a family heirloom. My mom gave it to me before she... passed away."

Seth's expression softened, and he nodded in understanding. "I'm sorry, YN. She must have been an incredible woman."

"Yeah, she was."

As the weeks passed, Cody and I continued to dominate in the ring. Our dynamic duo was becoming a fan favorite, and we reveled in the camaraderie we shared.

One day, as we were preparing for an upcoming tag team match, I found Cody studying a photograph backstage. It was a picture of our mother holding us as children, with the same key pendant hanging around her neck.

"Where did you find that?" I asked, surprised.

Cody looked up, a bittersweet smile on his face. "I've had it all along. After Mom passed, Dad gave it to me, saying it was meant for the for one of us to have."

Tears welled up in my eyes as I extended my hand, touching the pendant around my neck. "Cody... thank you."

He placed the photograph on the table and pulled me into a hug. "We might not have her physically with us, but she's still here, YN. And we have each other."

As the years rolled on, Cody and I continued to dominate the WWE universe, our bond stronger than ever. The pendant and the key it symbolized became a reminder of our unbreakable connection and the legacy our mother had left behind.

Through victories and challenges, our journey in WWE was a testament to the enduring power of family. And as we stood side by side, facing the arena's roaring crowd, I knew that our story, both in and out of the ring, was just beginning.

#ametrine arrows #ametrine arrows imagines #wwe #wwe x reader #wwe imagine #wwe imagines #Monday night raw #smackdown #Cody rhodes #Cody rhodes x reader #Cody rhodes imagine #Cody rhodes imagines #Cody rhodes fanfiction #wwe fanfiction

114 notes · View notes

jerzwriter · 2 months

Note

Why don't you write more diverse characters?

And also:

Also might get hate for this but your Casey and Jessica pairing gives me "when straight girls say they wish they are gay so they don't have to deal with boys". I'm aware you're queer yourself and there's no one way to be queer but just wanting to let you know, from the perspective of a gay person myself.

You're welcome to disagree, delete this or so on but I just want to offer my two cents if that's still something I can do.

Nonny,

Let's see: Wake the Dead: My MC is Latina. I have a whole HC on how she tries to connect to her culture despite most of it being stolen from her due to their circumstances. It has been addressed in asks, etc., but I have not written it completely because of time. I wrote an extensive backstory on Eli's family; his parents are canonically black/white, and his brother (like him) is biracial. Crimes of Passion: My MC is Latina and demiro. I haven't addressed the latter as much as I want to, partially because I don't relish the inevitable feedback. You know, where the fandom that demands diversity then tears down any creator who attempts to write them? So, 99% of creators have decided to only want to write what they know? Yeah, that.

Open Heart: Casey is white because that's the sprite I used in canon, and you know what? There's nothing wrong with that. Her husband is bi-racial. Their 3 children are biracial. His mother (an OC) is black, his brother (an OC) is biracial and bisexual, oh, Casey's bisexual too, and I HC that their youngest daughter is queer, but I have not written much about their adult daughters.

So, yeah, while I don't owe you an explanation, I needed to point out how wrong you are. Saying there is no diversity among my characters is a bit of a stretch unless you want to say that Latino, black, biracial, and queer people aren't diverse. I hope that's not what you're saying.

As to Casey and Jess, you're entitled to your opinion, of course, but the typically straight girls who wish they were gay so they don't have to deal with boys don't date or fall in love with girls. At least not the ones I have known. They certainly don't fuck them. So, there's that. Have I written smut for J/C? No. But I haven't written much smut at all recently. I just have not been interested in doing so.

So I am bi, and my bi character isn't bi enough for you - BUT why do I suspect that you're one of the people who bitch about the lack of queer characters in the fandom, then sit perched and ready to attack when someone tries and doesn't do it "right." I can see how that really encourages people to branch out and write more diversity. Oh, that's sarcasm.

If my stuff isn't your cup of tea - that's fine. It's allowed. Don't follow/read and find another creator who can provide you with what you desire. That's sort of how it's supposed to work.

PS... are you the same anon who said I don't support queer creators? If so, babe, you're going to have to try harder. Don't accuse me of things that are so easily verifiably wrong.

#asks answered

22 notes · View notes

inkedobsidian · 1 year

Text

~Angel in the sky~ B.B

summary: Benedict unveils a new painting and his muse turns up.

pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

warnings: non, fluffy fluff

word count: 2,308

a/n: Requests are open! Prompt list is there if you guys want extra ideas!

Master-List - Prompts

Dearest Reader,

Yesterday was finally the night that the sweet Benedict Bridgerton unveils another one of his artworks. Bridgerton-thrown events are continuously the talk of the ton and this author is expecting to see some very large families in attendance. As for if any drama was present it is up to this author to report back to you, my gentle readers. Hopefully, the main topic of conversation of the ton for this evening was the artwork itself, but that is unlikely.

Benedict had spent the better part of the day pacing back and forth in the drawing room at the Bridgerton home. This wasn't the first time he'd unveiled some of his art but this one seemed to have the deepest connection to him. Almost as if a string was connecting his heart to the painting. He hadn't looked at it in a few days as his mama had it taken to their gallery where the ball was going to be held. His heart called out to the painting but more so to the inspiration behind it, whom he'd not laid eyes on since the moment he captured in the painting.

"You know if you pace anymore brother you might leave a mark on the flooring," Eloise muttered from the chair taking her nose out of her book for the first time in 2 hours. Benedict missed the silence the minute she spoke. Eloise got the message the minute her brother swung to face her with anxious fury spread across his face. She simply raised her hands in defense putting the book down momentarily.

"Eloise is brash but correct my darling you have nothing to worry about for this evening, everybody loves your work," Violet says walking into the drawing room and placing her hands on her son's shoulders to stop his incessant bouncing in place. Benedict let his body relax underneath his mother's touch. She did have a wonderful way of never making anything seem difficult, unless you bring up the topic of marriage then she's just like all the other eager mamas of the ton.

"Some people like my work others like the name attached to it, who only knows what their true opinion is," Benedict said as he sunk into the chair next to Eloise like a sulking child. He hated the idea that people pretended to enjoy his work or to even understand it just because he was a Bridgerton but he knew the opinions came with the name so it was something he had to accept in order to keep doing the thing he loved.

Not much had been revealed in the cases of the artwork which is something this author loves, mystery. It being the last painting revealed on the evening gave people plenty of time to try and get some secrets out of the creator but Benedict Bridgerton was very tight-lipped on what he created and even kept silent on what inspired the creation.

Many people came up to Benedict in swarms - 'admirers' of his work trying to pry information out of him before the unveil. These admirers were just marriage-hungry mamas trying to prove how much their daughters loved the art hoping that would somehow sway Benedict in their direction, unknowing that Benedict had his eyes focused on someone that only existed in a painting. Until tonight.

He was halfway through a droning conversation with his mama and Miss Featherington when the doors opened catching his attention, he was sure the entire ton was there except Lady Danbury who informed the family that she would be late due to currently being hostess to a new family. Sure enough, it was indeed Lady Danbury making it just mere moments before Benedict was about to unveil the painting. Too many moments close that Benedict didn't have time to welcome Lady Danbury so he left that up to his mother that loved these parties more than most. This, however, meant that Benedict had no idea who had arrived with Lady Danbury, and by the time he had noticed he was already standing near the very painting that this person inspired.

He reached the top of the stairs just out of the eye of onlookers but that still gave him the perfect sight to look down below at his mama, Lady Danbury, and her. The very person who in mere moments would see their own image solidified in paint. Benedict thought of this situation as the highest irony considering that the last time he caught a glimpse of this woman she was once again unaware of his presence. Just looking down at the mystery woman the entire day came back to him as if he was reliving it at that very moment.

It was a little over a month ago just before the season had begun and families had begun to travel and arrive in London for the season when Benedict decided to take a stroll to escape his mama and her new lists of ladies debuting this year, eager to get her sons dancing and courting a young miss. The warm air helped to ease any stress he was dealing with when Benedict decided to stop in the middle of the path and raise his head to the sun letting the rays wash over his face with comforting heat, it was when he was lowering his head that he noticed her.

She was sat on a seat staring intently at the book in her hand looking up towards the sun in small intervals as if it gave her energy to continue. That was when Benedict saw it, his next art piece. From where he was standing on the street the window had the perfect reflection of the sky and clouds almost making it look like she was an angel floating in the sky looking down on the earth. The feature of the blue painting on the exterior and the white windowsill lead into the almost heavenly-looking scene. Benedict knew at that moment he had to capture the image in paint so that it never left his mind. He spent hours in his study working on every feature of her hoping to get everything perfect, even the way her hair shone against the color of the white and blue background. It was important to Benedict that art be nothing but the truth of a person's soul as there was nothing beautiful about deceit. He was committed to conveying the soul behind the beauty.

As with Bridgerton events, everything seemed to be planned out to the last second, Violet Bridgerton was an excellent planner in this regard it never left the party feeling boring. However this author, unlike some others in attendance noticed something peculiar that hadn't happened at any other of Benedict Bridgertons unveils - he stopped. Now you, my gentle readers of the ton won't have noticed in the midst of your conversations but trust me as Lady Whistledown herself I see all, otherwise, what would this collum suffice off?

Benedict stopped himself from just escaping by realizing that his mama had started to look around the room for him and that could only mean he was taking his time getting to the top of the stairs for the speech she so suggestively made him write. Now he regrets it all as he has to keep composure when he was convinced at that moment that some mysterious feeling had taken all of the wind out of his lungs, nevertheless, he was a Bridgerton so the mask of confidence must be fixed.

"If I could have everyone's attention please," Benedict says tapping the end of a spoon on his champagne flute, "My family has gathered you all here today for another art unveiled by yours truly. Now before I revealed the piece I thought an explanation to all of you of what it entails. Art is something so close to the soul, like the eyes an art piece can give someone such a look into another soul. I know I am one of the lucky few who get to follow my passions and for that, I am eternally grateful to my family, and my mama who believes in me so. Now before I ramble the night away, I named this piece 'Angel In The Sky' and I should hope that one even not familiar with the art will resonate with why." Benedict placed his champagne flute on the table next to him and on a deep in-breath took hold of the curtain covering the painting and pulled it down on an out-breath.

Now, this author knows a thing or two about spilling the truth of the soul, and to hear someone who is a very staple of the ton say the same is truly refreshing. Now I have decided to withhold the very details of the painting themselves as how could one such as I, another person of the arts, take away from viewers of the ton. Simply put Benedict Bridgertons newest painting 'Angel In The Sky' is an art piece that must be viewed with one's own eyes and not through the string of some other words, even this author.

It had taken mere moments for her to realize that it was indeed her image in the art. At first, the building looked similar, then her dress, and even her nose. It was an odd moment to see oneself in an art piece of which they had no prior knowledge. Y/N was not aware of what her reaction should've been, it felt other-worldly like something that would only happen in a novel. Yet here she was, at a ball in the city of London hours away from her home and away from everything she knows. It felt as though at this moment here everything in the air had shifted and this is where her life began to change, and she could always look at the moment captured in time.

It had taken Benedict almost half an hour to compose himself and finally rejoin the party, thankfully he was in his own home and could simply slip out one door and into another room. But now here he was, back in that same ballroom and once again watching her from afar. He was delighted at the sight of her, at least she was not so disgusted that she ran away. It felt ironic that almost, 3 different times now has he been locked in his place looking at the image of her too afraid to take another step as if it was tainting destiny. Until he heard the click of the cane and his mind came back.

"You know I should let you paint all my townhouses if they'd turn out like this." The recognizable voice of Lady Danbury boomed next to him. Benedict whipped his head around to flash a classic Bridgerton smile.

"Lady Danbury as I live and breath, I must extend my thanks for attending this exhibit." Benedict smiles, he did always have a soft spot for Lady Danbury.

"Now this will be the third time running that someone living in my home has caught the eye of one of you Bridgertons, maybe I should start betting on horses with my luck. I would tell you her name but that seems like something to work out on your own." Lady Danbury says while hitting the bottom of her cane onto Benedict's calf. He took that as the only push he would ever need and off he went toward her. The steps towards her were almost second nature as if there were a magnet pulling him towards her. It wasn't until he took his final step to be next to her that he felt the air around him shift.

"I have to say my lord I have seen many paintings of myself throughout my family line but nobody ever seemed to understand that the tone in my skin was indeed cool understand and not light, the amount of artists that have made me strikingly yellow is jarring, to say the least," Y/N announced finally breaking the silence. Her voice flowed softer than he ever imagined but there was a layer he couldn't quite grasp, a sharpness almost. Then he caught it, caught the words she spoke, of undertones?

"Are you yourself an artist, you have a vocabulary one could only have with knowing the arts," Benedict spoke, his smile seeming to grow wider each moment. His eyes sparkling in the reflection of all the candlelight.

"I am indeed in fact, Lady Danbury has been kinda enough to lend me an entire room for my art. I will have her extend an invite for you to view it one day, it is spectacular. As is your art, although it's strange to see oneself in paint like a moment captured in time." Y/N spoke with an ease that calmed you to the core almost like nothing could go wrong.

So there they stood, conversing mere meters away from the painting. Every now and again either one would catch themself looking up at the painting then back down. As Y/N looked up towards the painting and back down she caught herself wondering about the time and effort it took. All that stuck out in her mind is that it takes a man of great patience and a deep understand of life to compose something of such deep beauty. As for Benedict, he looked back and forth almost like a child surrounded by a thousand pretty lights because as much as he never imagined it, here he was standing in front of the very woman who inspired a painting that required him to tap into such a delicate part of his soul. He only hoped that his future would see many more paintings, but only one muse.

#bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton fanfic #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n

241 notes · View notes