#and the beard on his chin was as white as the snow

[andy-clutterbuck]

[httpwintersoldier]

『 lady marmelade. || buggy x reader 』

[PART 2 OF 4 - ONE PIECE'S KINKTOBER] - BUGGY VER.

[SHANKS VER.] [MIHAWK VER.] [SANJI VER.]

pairing: buggy x f!reader words: lenghtyyyyy summary: your occupation lead you to meet your new boss... who'd perhaps become more than that. angst; smut; fluff.

Doing Burlesque was not what you had initially seen yourself doing professionally, but in a weird turn of events, the doors had opened and you walked right through them. Or rather... the curtains.

You initially intended to study the sea and its mysteries, but it wasn't exactly a job that paid well from the get-go, so you began working at a bar. Just to get yourself started, you said.

Then a man noticed you... He was tall and well built, a little meat on his bones but definitely intimidating. Hair as white as snow and a full beard with a nicely kept moustache. The man couldn't help but compliment you: your beautiful smile, your beautiful body, your bright personality... You were perfect, he said.

He approached you, initially asking you how much you made. You found it insulting! That was, until he said he'd triple it if you joined his show. The man was sure you'd be a hit, and he was right.

At first you thought he was inviting you to be a stripper, but as you learned the art of burlesque, you realized it was nothing of the sort - and you loved it. The attention, the compliments, the lights and cheers, the beautifully decorated attires, the attention to detail... But most of all, you adored the freedom it gave you to study the sea.

The pay was amazing, and it allowed you to have enough time and money to invest in your hobby - the sea.

"We got a... uh... how to describe the situation..." the stage coordinator said as he tapped his chin, looking for the correct words "We got a different crowd."

You were applying the finishing touches to your attire, but stopped, furrowed your eyebrows and looked at the man as you heard his choice of words, as well as the ruckus behind the curtain.

You stood up and walked to the edge of the curtain, tugging on it slightly, so only one of your eyes peeked out to look at the audience. You gasped in horror and stepped furiously towards the stage manager.

"Since when do we allow pirates on our cabaret!?" You whisper-yelled at the man.

The heels made you taller than him, and the way you were staring him down sent a shiver down his spine. The man was gripping his board with the show instructions as he struggled to give you a response.

"I guess we do when- when they pay well we do..."

You weren't prissy, much less were you an elitist, but pirates... they disgusted you. When you began working at the cabaret the owner allowed pirates in. Those nights were treacherous, to say the very least. The harassment, bottle throwing and disrespect for the art rose through the roof on those nights, so pirates and their crews were banned effectively from watching the shows. Except the ones whose pockets were deep, apparently.

You slumped back on your chair and held the bridge of your nose between your thumb and index finger as you sighed.

"Tell me I'm the first one, please, tell me I get to get this over with and fuck off home."

The stage manager scoffed.

"I don't know what would overcome the Boss to somehow put you first... You're the last one." The man informed.

He had the habit of doing this. You were his golden goose, the cherry at the top, as he liked to say, so you were always last, because everyone stayed to watch you.

That was the only time where being the favourite sucked.

"Babygirl, you're first, you're on in 40 seconds." The man said, and your colleague applied some powder hurriedly and walked to the big red curtains.

You watched as she stepped out to her signature intro song with a fake smile that hid how fucking terrified she was of the pirates.

Usually sets came and went as quickly as a snap of the fingers, but this one time, the one time you were curious to hear about, seemed to drag on for ever and ever.

"Thank y'all for tonight, you were lovely!"

As soon as you heard those words and saw the curtains move, you stood up.

"Evelyn, 60 seconds 'till you're on!" the stage manager called to your next colleague as you walked towards Babygirl, held her hands and looked her in the eye.

"So? How were they!?" You asked, barely even letting her catch her breath.

"You know what? Not that bad..." She said, sounding surprised by her own statement "I get the feeling they were just kicked out of every bar in town and came here to drink. They were excited and there was quite a lot of ruckus and cheering but I think the main focus were the drinks... There was this clown dude in the back that seemed very desinterested though." Your colleague explained, as you both walked to her vanity and she began taking off all of the paraphernelia that decorated her.

You furrowed your brows. That was surprising... But it made sense, somehow. They might've been behaving just for the sake of not being thrown out again and running out of alcohol for the night.

Your colleague looked at you up and down.

"You're going with Cherry Pie today?" She asked.

You kept a couple personas in your pocket, to keep it interesting. You liked to call it "The Burlesque Sisters", except each one of them was played by you. It kept people interested and coming back for more, wanting to get a peek at each sister.

You looked down at your attire: it was a red corset with wine-coloured felt details and a heart-shaped neckline. You wore a miniskirt that was not at all intricate, as it came off in the very beginning of the set, long black gloves with red feathery apliques on the hem, black stockings, and a pair of beautiful red platmform heels with guilded details. Your makeup matched the get up perfectly: a bold red lip with a dark red liner, gold sparkles decorating your face, as well as gold eyeshadow on your waterline, and a killer cat-like black winged liner. You were always keen on having your hair up, as you felt it was the perfect hairdo to keep eyes focused on your body and on your movements.

Cherry Pie was a fan favourite, no doubt. So you were a little reluctanct on bringing her out, afraid that the pirates would keep coming back for her (cocky of you, you were aware), but it was too late to change.

It wasn't long before you heard Evelyn's typical goodbye quote. She came in strutting in the room, hapilly removing several bills from various parts of her attire.

"Good tippers!" She said with a smile.

"Cherry Pie! You're on in two minutes!" The stage director called.

Whoever went next to Evelyn got a little more time before going in, as the staff needed to clean up her glitter sprayed across the floor.

"So? How was it?" You asked, raising your brows.

"Oh, it was great! They weren't exactly respectful but they tipped really well and they were very engaged! Except for this clown dude at the back, but I didn't bother much with him." Evelyn said with a shrug as she took off her earrings.

You stood up with a pensive face and straighened your outfit, suddenly becoming curious about this clown guy that seemed to be uninterested by women in very little clothing dancing in front of him. You walked to the curtains, waiting for the stage manager to give you your cue.

When you heard the first beats of your intro song you strutted in, one foot in front of the other, hands on your waist and a big, flirty smile. You winked at the crowd as the big stage lights lit you up.

You lifted your arms up as if to say "I'm here!" and popped out your hip.

"Welcome, to the Cherry Pie show!" You said, earning a bunch of cheers, and then hit the Beety Boop pose, placing your hands on your knees and popping out your ass as you winked.

The clown your colleagues had mentioned wasn't hard to spot: this wasn't a simple crowd, for sure, but he was definitely the one that stood out the most. In a good way... you'd argue.

However, as you introduced yourself, you could see him look up: his head lifted from the fist that it previously rested on and his eyes sparkled. You couldn't relate to the desinterest the others had reported, and you wondered if you had particularly piqued his interest - or if he was just tired of the position he was in and decided to switch (although the glint in his eye said your initial theory was correct).

You carried on with the performance, keeping a special eye out for the pirate clown.

You slowly undid your corset, opening it to reveal a tighter, smaller corset, flashing the crowd with an expression that said "oopsie!". There were some groans and there were some laughs at the trick. You discarded the corset you had taken off and went around the room collecting bills, as you danced suggestively and lip synced to your song.

As you walked closer to the clown you bit your glove and slid it off, revealing your long, red press on nails. You repeated the process on the other glove and discarded them, earning a few whistles. You could feel the clown's gaze on you, almost as if it burned.

And so, you decided to tease him: you dragged your nail along his jaw. The clown somewhat leaned into your touch, and although the music was loud, you could swear you heard him groan.

You continued you act and, in no time, your songs came to an end and it was time to say goodbye to your surprisingly pleasant guests.

"Y'all have been a lovely crowd! I've been Cherry Pie, Cherry Kisses!" You yelled, touching your ass with one heel as you blew them a kiss.

There was standing up, whistling, cheers, and a couple noises from displeased people, sad that the show was over. One thing was for sure, the clown guy had a hunger for you - and he wouldn't let you go so easily.

As you disappeared behind the curtains, the man stood up, making his way to the back.

"Sir you can't come in-" The bouncer began, but instantly shut up when Buggy flashed him a wad of Berry. Any ammount of money was worth being sacrified if it meant it was used to see you.

Evelyn and Babygirl had gone home already, so when you heard footsteps you assumed it was your bodyguard ready to escort you home.

"Hey Dante I'm not ready yet, give me 5 just to take off the makeup and put on some clothes!" You said, not looking behind you as you worked on getting the glitter off.

"I think you look marvellous just like that."

When you didn't recognize the voice, you were startled and stood up, looking at the man that had spoken, to find the clown guy leaning against the door frame.

You couldn't not remember who he was...

"What are you- How did you get here?" You asked, pointing at him and squinting your eyes.

"Honey, I've got plenty Berry, and I don't mind spending it on you." He said, arms stretched out as he stepped towards you.

You raised your brow and crossed your arms in front of your chest as you analyzed him from head to toe.

"This isn't a strip club, you can't pay for a room with me or whatever. And it's Cherry, not Honey." You said, attitude dripping from your voice.

"Yes, unfortunately it isn't a strip club, but I'm not here for that. I want to offer you a spot. On my crew, on my show." The man offered with that familiar glint in his eye.

"Why, pray tell, would I want to go be a pirate? The pay here is amazing, I love my job and I am comfortable." You asked.

The clown admired how unafraid you were of him. People usually kept their distance, ran away, stuttered near him... But there you were, facing him and challenging him. He absolutely had to have you.

The Captain was desperately looking for reasons to give you, until his eyes landed on a book you had on your vanity. You liked to entertain yourself and read on breaks from shows and happened to leave them on your vanity.

"A book about marine life?" The man asked, pointing at the book "Honey, why read about it, when you can see it. Join me and you'll see all of the life you read about in those pages, up close. I'll equal what they pay you here- fuck it, I'll double it."

Now that was tempting... But you couldn't help but wonder why...

"Why do you want me so much?"

Now that was a damn good question.

"I've never seen my men this focused on something. It's good for morale and it gives them something to do other than a big mess on my ship. Plus, we kinda need a gymnast on the show and you fit the bill."

Bullshit. He just bullshit his way out of the truth - in reality he just wanted to have you close, he wanted to be able to look at you up close whenever.

"Your men? Your ship? What are you, a Captain?" You asked genuinely.

The male scoffed and took another step towards you.

"You don't know who I am, do you?"

You shrugged as an answer, your face showing a definite sign of absolutely not giving a shit about the answer.

"My name is Captain Buggy, or Buggy the Clown." Buggy, as he introduced himself, detached a hand and had it fly over to you.

"Woah! You're a Devil Fruit user!" You said, amused to finally meet one, and shook the flying hand.

Although detached, your touch on him still managed to send shivers down his spine.

"So, Miss 'Cherry Pie', have we got a deal?"

You pretended to think for a bit. The answer was obviously yes (more pay and you got to be close to the sea!?), but you didn't want to seem too eager.

"I believe we do Captain Buggy."

The way you said his name made him wonder how many other ways he could make you say it... It sent another shiver down his spine, and the captain asked himself if it had been a good idea to invite you on board - Buggy didn't know how long he'd be able to keep his hands off of you.

When the owner of the Cabaret heard of your departure he nearly fainted. The man tried to negotiate but he couldn't possibly match what Buggy had offered you, so the boss reluctantly let you go and you embarked on a new journey.

The beginning was a little rocky, some of the crew members got a little touchy and Buggy had to threaten them multiple times, but after you started standing your ground and threteaning them yourself, you gained their respect.

Normally you wouldn't be so brave as to stand up to several big men experienced in fighting, but you knew the Captain had your back, and that gave you a lot of confidence.

The first time there was a show, Buggy invited you to sit back and watch, so you could learn how it all worked before being part of it, and you had to admit, seeing the man take control of everything... it was kind of hot. Those words danced in your tongue when he asked you what you thought about the show afterwards, but you decided to keep it to yourself.

"This good enough Captain?" You asked innocently, fixing your corset so your boobs stood out.

Buggy thanked his heavy makeup for concealing his blush, and the coat for hiding his growing boner as he inspected your outfit from head to toe. He wanted to say no. He wanted to cover you up with a long, large coat and send you out with it so only he could see you like that, but alas, that wasn't possible...

"Uh yeah, Y/N, you look fantastic." The Captain said, not able to look away from your chest.

You giggled and thanked him, before getting ready to step out. The tent was particularly full that day, as people gathered, curious about the new act that had been announced.

As the cheers, claps and whistles reached Buggy's ears backstage, he felt a sense of jealousy spread in his body. Oh it was a bad idea to hire you, for sure...

When the show came to an end and the guests had left, Buggy sat on his throne and counted the Berry they had made.

Suddenly, he heard steps.

"Who the fuck is here and why are you here?" The Captain asked, in a grumpy tone - he very much disliked being interrupted.

"Sorry Captain!"

As soon as he heard your voice it was like a rainbow washed over him. He hated that. He hated how you had so much control over his body, over the way he felt.

"That's okay, thought it was one of the other degenerates. What can I do for ya, sweetheart?" Buggy asked in a completely different tone from the one he had previously spoken in, pleased that you had come talk to him still in your show attire.

"Well I wanted to ask... did I do good?" You asked, biting your lip and holding your hands behind your back nervously.

Oh boy did Buggy want to grab you by the neck and push you against a wall... Seeing you in front of him, nervous and asking for his approval, all while biting your lip... You had no idea how much self control he had not to fuck you dumb.

"Sorry sugar, I couldn't watch the show tonight..." The Captain explained, a sad tone in his voice as he said it.

"Oh..." You replied, a little disappointed "Well, maybe I could give you a private show." You said with a flirty wink.

Buggy smirked and looked at you, supporting his head with his fist.

"Don't make promises you can't handle keeping, princess." Buggy said, boldly.

You chuckled and turned around.

"I can handle everything, Captain."

You could feel Buggy's eyes on you as you walked away, and chuckled lowly when you heard him curse under his breath.

The man turned, huffed and puffed in bed that night, grabbing his crotch at the thought of you, at the way you called him Captain, and at the pretty little teasing quote you'd thrown at him - but he knew that no release would be satisfying - unless you were the one giving it to him. That couldn't be. He had to find a solution.

Little did the man know, the solution would find him soon enough.

Due to his Y/N-induced sleepless night, the following day the man retreated to his living quarters before dinner, in order to get some rest.

You, who didn't know what was going on, grew concerned about the Captain. He was always grumpy, sure, but he was also constantly laughing and full of life, whereas that day he was simply... not.

You knew no one was even supposed to go near his room, let alone visit it when the Captain specified he didn't want to be disturbed. But you were one curious cat - and a worried one too.

As you stood outside of his door, you bit your lower lip, wondering if you should knock or not, but before you could decide for or against it, the Captain had already sensed a presence outside.

"Who has a death wish?" Buggy asked, referring to the person that stood outside of his room.

"T-that would be me, Captain..." You replied, nervously, confident he'd recognize your voice.

Buggy's mind was torn - he looked (and felt) like shit on one hand, but on the other, having you with him in his room all by yourselves... The bottom head thought faster, and he replied with a low "come in".

You opened the creaky door slightly and peeked inside, before walking in.

Buggy laid on the bed, his hair free of the bandana and tied in a low ponytail. He had one arm falling from the bed, and the other covering his eyes, and one leg resting on the bed as the other had his knee bent.

You blushed slightly as you realized he was just wearing his underwear and a large striped shirt.

"Woah..." You said, at the sight of his long hair.

Buggy uncovered his eyes to look at you and followed your gaze. He just chuckled, making you snap back to reality.

"Uh, Sir- Captain," You corrected "are you okay?..."

The light in the room was scarce, the only thing lighting up the space being the moonlight coming in through the hatch. Still, you could see his cocky grin.

"You worried about me, princess?"

You dared walk closer to him, in small, shy steps.

"Well, yes... You didn't seem yourself today..."

Buggy clenched his fists and held himself back with all the strenght possible and imaginary when you put one knee on his bed, making it dip slightly on your end, and placed a hand on his forehead and face.

"Captain, you feel hot!" You said, worriedly.

He was hot alright, but it wasn't a fever that left him like that.

"You know princess, you're right, I haven't been 100% lately, I have been having a little problem..." Buggy admitted, as he licked his lips.

"A p-problem? What problem?" You asked, an uneasy feeling rising within you.

Upon seeing your panicked expression he chuckled.

"A problem with you, dear."

The panic and fear increased even more, and it was visible on your face.

"Don't worry princess, you've done nothing wrong. In fact, quite the opposite... You've been doing all the right things."

You innocently cocked your head to the side.

"I'm- I'm sorry Captain, I'm not sure I'm following..."

The man grinned and groaned when the name left your lips. Such an innocent mouth, that he had imagined doing such sinful things to...

"You see, sweetheart," Buggy began, his hand lightly tracing up the thigh closest to him "you've been driving me crazy. The way you dress, the way you talk, fuck- the way you say my name."

His eyes rolled to the back of his head as he imagined you moaning his name. You grew hotter and hotter at each of his words, and all you could focus on was how his hand went higher and higher on your thigh. And without noticing, in your head, you began begging for his hand to just fucking hurry it up and grab your ass.

"W-well Captain, I guess it's only right that I fix the problem, I caused it after all, hm?" You suggested bringing your other leg up to the bed and across him, so you were straddling his lap.

"Oh princess, I don't know if you wanna get into it..." His hands found the place you wanted him to find.

The man grabbed your ass with such force that you couldn't help but moan.

"I'm pretty sure that I do..." You said in a husky voice, as you felt his cock harden under you.

Before he could speak, you opened your mouth once more.

"You know, Captain," now that you knew he enjoyed it, you were going to exploit the hell out of the name "I like the way you take control of the show..." you paused once more and leaned in to whisper in his ear "How about you take control of me like that?"

It was as if your voice brought him the full 10 hours of sleep he needed. It was like energy washed over him and he felt... alive. More than ever.

The clown was quick to switch positions, straddling your waist and pinning your hands above your head, slowly riding up the top you wore. Buggy licked his lips as he stared at your exposed stomach.

"You're playing with fire, princess. Little girls that play with fire get hurt..." Buggy teased with a glint in his eye.

"Then hurt me."

His lips glued to yours instantly, in a violent, hungry kiss. Buggy didn't know it was possible for someone to drive him even crazier, but you did it. You pushed him to the very edge and he had never craved something so much in his life.

Buggy's hands were all over your body - grabbing your thighs, slapping your ass, caressing your waist... He wanted to take in every piece of you. As he touched you, the Captain slowly took off pieces of your clothes, and when you realized, you were naked under him.

You blushed slightly, tugging at the hem of his shirt so he'd understand.

"We're not speaking now, dollface?" The man asked as he removed his one piece of clothing "Cat got your tongue? Hm?"

You ran your hands down his torso and bit your lip - he was a lot more toned than he let on.

"Just... admiring the view." You said before catching his lips in a slow, passionate kiss.

Buggy detached one of his hands, and you shrieked into the kiss as his cold fingers made their way inside your panties. He teased your entrance, until you tugged on his hair as if to say "hurry up, fucker".

"Don't be-" He paused, shoving two fingers into you slowly "-impatient."

You sighed deeply and moved your hips against his fingers. Buggy looked down at you move in amusement.

"You know pretty girl, we have another problem at hand..." The Captain said, tracing your face with his fingers until he reached your neck.

"W-what is it?" You asked, through half lidded eyes and in between moans.

Buggy gripped your throat, making you gasp and arch your back. He leaned closer to your ear so he could whisper.

"I don't know if I wanna fuck you like this to see your pretty little face when you cum on my cock, or shove your face in the pillow and fuck you from behind."

"A-as long as you make me cum Captain..." You said with a smirk.

You whined as he removed his fingers and licked them clean.

"Are you doubting my capabilities, princess?"

You had no time to reply, as he reattached his hand and used it to flip you around and pull your ass up in the air. You gripped the sheets, your cheek against his pillow taking in the smell of your Captain, as you watched him take his placed bbehind you.

Buggy took his sweet time palming your ass and admiring it.

When he took out his cock, you couldn't see it from the angle, but you knew it was big and girthy, because when his hard lenght smacked against your ass, you knew you were in for it.

"Fuck..." You breathed out.

Buggy chuckled.

"It's not even in yet princess, save the cursing for later..." He teased, running the tip of his cock up and down your folds until he himself couldn't hold it any longer.

The Captain wanted to slam into you and fucked the words out of your mouth, but it was your first time with him and he didn't want to risk being too rough or hurting you.

So, with furrowed eyebrows and agape mouth, he pushed into you slowly, until he bottomed. It took all of his strenght to pull out and shove his cock back in in a slow pace.

Once he found you were comfortable with the pace, he began speeding up and, when your moans became loud and you called for his name, Buggy lost all control.

The man gripped your hips like a madman and fucked you like his life depended on it.

"Oh fuck- you're such a good girl Y/N- you take me so well..." He praised as he gripped your ass and smacked it a couple times, earning a yelp from you.

"Y-you feel so good Captain!" You moaned, gripping the sheets beside your head.

One of Buggy's hand detached and found your clit, rubbing it at a consistent, fast rhythm. The man was good. You wanted to savour the moment as long as possible but for the first time you found it hard to not cum.

Maybe it was his skill, maybe it was his demeanor, and maybe it was his appearance, but the truth was that you couldn't get enough of him fucking you.

"Buggy I think- I think I'm gonna cum-" You whined, as a familiar feeeling began washing over you.

"A-Already princess?"

Buggy kept up the confident persona, but deep down he was thanking every diety in existance because he didn't know how long he could last, with you moaning for him and tightening around his cock like he had imagined so many times.

"Please... may I cum?"

"Do it!" Was all he could say.

Your legs faltered and the Captain had to hold you up as he fucked his cum into you, riding both of your orgasms out.

Small groans and whimpers filled the room as the both of you came down from your highs. Buggy hissed as he removed his soft cock from you.

The man helped you lay down on the bed and wrapped an arm around you and pulled you closer to him as he closed his eyes.

"Hey Buggy?" You called, as you played with his hair and admired how long his lashes were.

"Hm?..." He sleepily asked.

"When you hired me, was this your intention?" You asked, biting your lip.

The man didn't open his eyes, he just chuckled.

"I can't say it was completely innocent... I wanted you close to me." Buggy explained with a smirk.

He then grabbed your ass and pulled you even closer, causing you to shriek and giggle.

"I guess you got it, Captain..."

[squishycheekanon]

La da de da viking Price for the win🛡️🌺

Your heavy snow boots trudged through the thick mounds of pure white snow, the freezing breeze was pinching and nipping at your cheeks. The cold had began to hurt your nose as you breathed, the back of your throat dry. Trying your hardest to keep warm, you shove your chin and mouth further into the top of your coat and breathe out hot air.

You only wanted to hunt for food and go back home, but seeing as you couldn’t find any animals near your little cabin, you had to venture elsewhere for the hunt. Something you annoyingly regretted the further away from home you got.

An exaggerated sigh left you for the twentieth time today as you knelt down on the ground feeling the snow start to soak into the material of your trousers. Pulling your bow off of your body and an arrow from the quiver that was strapped to your back. You drew back the string of your bow, holding the arrow steadily in place.

Closing your eyes, you waited. Listening oh so carefully, for anything. The sound of any animal to make itself known to you. A while passed, all you could hear was the soft wind and a nearby steam trickling quietly.

Until the snort of a deer had your eyes shooting open and your weapon aiming at the creature. Exhaling slowly, you let go, the arrow whipping through the air heading straight for the unknowing animal but ultimately hitting a different target. A huge gasp left you as you watched the arrow go straight into the chest of a man, the deer snorted before running off.

You grunted annoyed and dropped everything to run to the injured man. Your eyes set upon his figure. Large and strong, you recon if you’d hit anywhere else on him that’d he probably wouldn’t have collapsed. Probably would have grabbed the end of the arrow with his big sturdy hands and pulled it straight out like nothing happened. Probably.

The realisation started to set in the more you stared at him, you just shot a man. “Oh my, I’m…I’m so sorry!” You panicked falling to your knees next to him where he was on the ground. His blue eyes meeting yours, looking at you as though you were an alien. His nostrils flared as he quietly grunted, feeling the pain begin to spread throughout his chest and body.

“I was hunting and….and you…y-you stepped in front of the deer. I’m so sorry.” Your hands hovers over his injured while your mind began to become frantic with how to proceed. You eyed the expensive leather that graced his bulky figure. Wrapping around every muscle eagerly. The fur cloak that was spread around him, clearly from a hunt.

It did little to hide the tattoos on his arms. Further up chainmail covered his shoulders proving how sharp you’d made your arrows for it to pierce the chainmail that presumably sat below his tunic and leather. You took note of his face better now, thin lips almost covered by a bushy moustache all connected with thick mutton chops and a full, long beard that caught your attention a little too much.

“Are ya’ done ogling me lass?” He gritted his teeth, wrapping his hand around the arrow and yanking it out. He groaned loudly, deep and rough just like his voice when he spoke. It sent shivers through your body in an unholy way. Nothing like you’d ever felt before.

“Are you a royal from the mainland?” You asked, worry underlining your question.

He bellowed at that, “Ne’er erd’ that one before.” His laugh trailed off as he pressed his fingers into his wound and pulled them away watching the blood drip down his hand.

“My bag.” He was gesturing to the bag that lay a few meters over from where he was. You scrambled to grab it, desperately trying to pull it open. The leather satchel was medium size with about a hundred strings tying it shut.

“W-What do you need?” You were stumbling over your words as you took noticed of the blood that was seeping out of his wound and staining the snow beneath him.

The man grabbed your shaky hands in his and whispered “Breathe.” You listened hesitantly, taking a deep breath.

“Y’know I think I’m supposed to be reassuring you.” A breathless laugh leaving you sounding more like a scoff, he let out a chuckle his face scrunching up in pain.

“In the bag, the bottle with the red liquid.” Nodding quickly, you searched through the bag and pulled out the bottle, pulling the cork out with your teeth and looking at him for instructions. He took the glass container and poured it over his wound and drank the rest of it.

You watched as his heavy panting of pain began to level out. He soon sat up and looked at you curiously, “I’ve ne’er seen ye round these parts before.” He states though you’re pretty sure it was a question, you simply shrug and stand up. He followed suit, a shock jolting through you when he stands only to tower over you greatly.

“I, um really am sorry. It truly was an accident.” You wring your hands together before offering one of them to him. He looks surprised and you don’t blame him, you’re sure a woman has never made this gesture to him before.

“Svo fallegt,” he seemed to look over you for a moment then let his large hand wrap itself around yours with a shake, “S’okay.”You nodded letting go of his grip and making your way to pick up your bow and quiver.

“What’s ya name?” He asked suddenly feeling a wave of panic as he watched you walking away from him. You answered, waiting for his in return. “Price. John Price.”

Now where had you heard that name before?

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

BABES IM ON THE FLOOR 😭 I watched this Price Voice Lines Video and my god 🫠 His voice is so deep im litrally insane. Could you maybe do something with his lines around the 13:35 mark, where he’s being a self-sacrificing jerk? 🤭 Maybe the Reader is with him on a mission or something and like their both super protective and trying to save eachother or something ❤️

All, Most, Some, None

PAIRING: John Price x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS:  Snow melts in the heat of blood.

WORDCOUNT: 2.4k

WARNINGS: Angst, major character death(s), some fluff in the beginning, protective!Price, pre-relationship pining, obliviousness, blood, bullet wounds, hurt/no comfort, etc. no happy ending

A/N: You know I have to finish out my requests with just pure heartbreak.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You look out over the dark landscape and take down a breath as the atmosphere of the camp behind you murmurs like a warm drink. Night had fallen swiftly two hours beforehand when you’d first volunteered to take watch, your smile bright and eyes eager. Snow was just beginning to slide down from the gray sky, thick clouds hanging like a navy cloth—splotch marks of yellowish stars a far-off glimmer of infinity. 

When the footsteps echo out, coming to your position, you already know the weight and pace of who it belongs to; can trace the way his feet will conform to the dirt and the crunch of white powder. A grin flickers your lips easily but you don’t bother looking over your shoulder. 

John huffs as he takes his place beside you on the lookout, crossing his arms over his chest. In the corner of your eye you spy on his loose yet measured face, that authoritative edge that seeps into his skin at times. 

For a long moment, the two of you look out over the earth, studying the dips and drags of the Northwest Territories of Canada in early winter. While cold, the jackets the both of you wear take the chill off well enough. Along the body of your MK14 EBR, your fingers rest casually—no need to be tensed and ready. Your sharp eyes hadn’t spotted anything for eons. 

“Sitrep, then, Sol?” You hum under your breath as John looks over at you with a raised brow.

“Rabbits and Caribou, Sir.” Your voice goes teasing, “I think we’re boxed in from all sides—I suggest immediate evac.”

A low chuckle and a firm shake of a beanied head, a puff of condensation as the darkness seeps over all to be seen. John glances at you with a smirk.

“Unfortunate, seeing as we just got here.” You smile and laugh deep in your throat. It was at moments like this that you thanked whatever deity was out there that Captain Price had seen your potential all those years ago. 

He’d handpicked you when you were nothing but a Private—brought you up with knowledge and stern, yet gruffly companionate, assistance all the way to Lieutenant. You don’t know the exact moment when you started to get flustered around him. 

Your chest is tight right now, fingers that were once cold going clammy as you twitch them. Inside your chest, your heart pounds blood into the thin drums of your ears like boot-thumps. Clearing your throat, you shift your feet and push out, “Did Laswell get in touch?”

“Ah,” John shakes his head, taking a breath as he says, “Negative. We’re on our own for this.” He turns his head fully to you and for a moment you’re enraptured by the shine in the depths of his blue irises. Teasing, “Think you can handle it, then?”

You turn away quickly, face burning. 

“Doubt me?” Matching his jab you smile widely. John chuckles and jerks his shoulders, grunting as his chin tilts. 

“Never.” Hiding the violent burn of your cheeks, you look at the landscape quickly, nails tapping the metal of your gun. 

“Sol?” John speaks after a moment of tight silence. You blink over with an interested look, cocking your head. The Captain had shifted to fully face you, and one of his hands itches at the side of his finely-trimmed beard. Fast eyes glance over your form like a studious teacher—your lungs still inside of your ribs. John mutters, “Stick near me tomorrow, yeah? Want you on my six.” 

Touched, your brows still furrow with confusion. 

“Don’t…you need me to lead Unit Two?” John’s already shaking his head, gritting his teeth. It’s like something’s bothering him. 

Feet taking you forward, you grab onto his bicep and stare into his tense face with slight concern. “John?” You ask, lids narrowing. 

The man stills at the sensation of your touch, even separated by the layers of his gear and jacket. Eyes slip to yours and lightly soften, the edges easing in their relentless wrinkle of dark thoughts. Like the star that your codename emulated, you seemed to be a ray of illumination for the Captain, and John’s nose twitched before his eyes quickly looked away from your open face. 

It wasn’t right to think the way he did about you. 

“Just have a feeling, Love,” he shakes his head slightly, clearing his throat. Your hand drops from him and he stops himself from snatching it back. 

You smile at him, huffing a laugh. 

“Well, who else’ll be able to take my place, then, seeing as you’re so eager to have me by you?” Gazing behind you into the small camp, John grunts, keeping his eyes on you. A small smirk slips over his lips and pulls his beard back.

“Daniels has got it…copy?” Your throat hums in consideration before you nod in a firm flinch of your head. 

“...Alright.”

“Good.” The Brit shifts his feet and the snow squeals. Snowflakes collect on the top of your head, sitting atop your scalp like tiny insects as the swell of your mouth goes back in a grin. John blinks at you, and before he knows it, he’s extending his hand up to his beanie with little thought beyond how lovely you look like this. 

He plops the fabric down on your head and you snap a hand up to press into it in shock. The man’s large frame slinks back as he takes his leave with you looking back at him; his feet make tracks, leading away to mirror the ones that came before. 

“Don’t get a cold, eh? I’ll expect you to be back in your tent within the hour, Lieutenant.” Face burning, you can’t answer. 

Blue eyes peek over a wide shoulder. Something sparks in those met gazes, a pinprick of wonder and deep affection. Perhaps it was even love.

The snow falls faster, and as John disappears into the darkness the chill of the open ridge suddenly seems less violent than your pulse as it thumps to the humming of the earth. Hiding a giddy smile, you look back out and rub at your neck; hat upon your head perfectly ingrained with a scent of charcoal and pine. 

—

“Leave me! I won’t make it!” The words made your stomach drop through your intestines. Shouted over the open line John’s voice barks the order like a knife with break-neck efficiency. No hesitation. 

It had all gone to shit in a matter of hours. The sun was just on the horizon, spreading its hands of dawn over the camp that was awash with blood and bodies. Enemy soldiers, the ones that your squad was tasked with taking out within the next day, had killed the next sentry on duty after you and stormed your position. 

To think you were minutes away from being that very sentry was mind-numbing. But now the real problem was the state of the camp. 

John had been hit through the right thigh.

Taking cover behind a large pine tree, you dart out at every other interval to fire rounds into anything that dashes like a wild animal into the open. Most of the squad was dead—the rest scattered in the sparse cover that was offered or in the process of dying. Snow melted in the heat of crimson fluid.

Spying the downed figure of your Captain, you growl and sprint out before you can talk yourself out of it, taking the recoil of your MK14 EBR into your shoulder and teeth gritted. John writhes on the ground, trying to maintain control over the remaining forces as his leg is limp and useless. He growls out in pain as his head hits the ground behind him. 

“Fuck!” He shouts. You feel a bullet whizz past your head as you skid down to your knees beside him. 

“Sol!” He glares at you as you survey the damage quickly, ducking when the metal projectiles get gradually closer and closer. There’s shouting in the far treeline; death cries. “What the hell are you doing? Get out of here!”

“You’re stupid if you think I’m about to do that to you!” You yell, jerking your gun up to release three bullets into someone who had burst out with a raised assault rifle. Pain flares in your left bicep, but you barely notice it beyond a strained, instinctual, whimper. “I’m getting you out of here.” 

Panic had gone as deep as your DNA, seeing the large pool of blood around John, his venom-laced words that stem from agony.

“Leave! Fucking hell, Lieutenant, that’s an order!” 

“John,” you shout, “shut the fuck up!” The man’s eyes go wide with shock. It wasn’t often that you swore at him. 

Making your hands dive under your Captain, you loop your hands behind his shoulders and latch at his armpits. With all of your might, you shift and begin dragging him backward into the trees; gritting your teeth at his pained yell and the bare of his own pearly whites.

Moving like this was stupid, you wouldn’t be able to take out your gun without dropping John—and you certainly weren’t going to do that. Not on your life.

“Christ,” the Brit groans, and you frantically watch the blood trail he leaves behind along the ground. Like a rabbit who’d gotten his leg bit off by a wolf but was still trying to run.

There was too much blood.

Agony explodes in your side, but you keep dragging backward with a new hitch in your lungs; eyes awash with tears before the air leaves you with a ragged and violent gasp. The sounds you hear from all around are horrible—the screams and the popping of rapid-fire shots. Sucking down oxygen with a vile cough, you get John behind a cropping of rocks and have to settle him down as you hack into one of your arms; chest shuddering.  

There is a pressure inside of you that digs into your flesh, but the adrenaline floods your brain over the alarm bells, drowning them.

You pull back your arm to see blood. But it doesn’t matter—not now. Not with John like this.

Looking down, you stare into his eyes while you get to your knees by his side. His gaze is wide and stuck at your abdomen with panic, where you already know the damage a bullet can do. 

“Love…” he begins, but his fingers curl into fists of pain instead. John breathes heavily, and when you look down to his thigh you find far more than one bullet. 

There were three, all spaced out in an arch. One at his thigh, one up on his pelvis, and the other directly in his stomach. Your eyes widen with mute horror, mouth stuttering as your throat closes. 

“Yeah,” blood bubbles from John’s mouth as he chuckles in quick gasps. “No good, eh?”

Tears build in great waves, but you force out, “No,” growling, you feel your own blood stain your gear and clothes. No exit wounds for either of you, you can already tell. “No, John—not like this.”

“Sweetheart,” he tries, but you grip the beanie on your head and shove it into his stomach, pressing on the wound there as he wheezes and you sob. 

“No, John!” A large hand finds the back of your hair, and you shake your head wildly. 

Blue eyes stare with regret and torment before darting back down to your wound. You can feel it—you already know; knew the moment the stray bullet hit you. 

The both of you…

“I’m sorry,” he says, quietly so that you have to strain to hear it above the noise. “I’m sorry, Love.” With a shiver of intense throbbing, the strain growing, you dart forward with waning strength and place your lips to his. 

Bloody hands grip his cheeks, slipping over his beard in fruitless desperation. Blood coats your mouths, but the moment of pure love and tenderness takes over. For a minute you can both forget the chill of metal and the blood pooling to the ground. The shaking in your muscles.

You can forget that the both of you are dying.

John keeps the back of your head to him as strength begins to slip. When you pull away with quivering limbs, his thumb weakly brushes your undereye to dispel the bitter tears. He hums with wet eyes. 

“I never got to take you out, did I?” You slip down beside him, shivering and losing heat not only because of the snow. Limbs grow heavy and in the back of your mind, you know you should be afraid—terrified. Maybe you were.

The comment makes you want to scream and rage and wail. 

“No,” you instead say, laughing through a sob at the cruelty of it all as you latch onto him. “No, you didn't, John. But I’m here now. I’m right here.”

Eyes slide over your face as you stay near him; waiting. A tiny smile as his bloody fingers brush your cheek. 

“When we get back I’ll show you ‘round Hertfordshire,” you both know that will never happen. His forehead knocks against yours. “You’ll love it, Sweetheart. Know you will.” 

“I will,” you promise, knowing you can’t. The world besides both of your eyes swirls. “Anywhere with you, John, is worth going.”

It’s obvious what you mean.

John presses his lips back to yours with one last whispered breath of his vow. “I’ve loved you since I first saw that beauty of a smile.” 

The two of you whisper promises and secrets as the gunfire dies down, lips making up for all of the times you should have kissed before and now don’t have the time to. Eyes don’t leave each other as the blood keeps flowing into two large pools of crimson sin. You’re drowned in it—flooded in it. 

You should have told him sooner.

“I’ll find you,” you whisper, eyes fluttering. But the body is long cold. 

You let your muscles loosen as the last of the fight leaves. Content, even in this, but for the simple fact that John’s arms are around you forever in this moment of endless infinity. The sky rolls back, and your last view is of him.

—

In the snow, preserved by the elements even weeks later, they would find your bodies, curled amongst themselves as if to protect one another. They would say that it had been because you were cold, freezing, and bleeding out from your wounds that you’d huddled for comfort. But that wasn’t the truth. 

The two of you had never been warmer than when you were with the other. 

What they couldn’t account for were the twin smiles on frosty lips.

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

[xbadmuse]

Jealousy

This is Part I of the Jealous Simon Riley Story i wanted to post.

this is a nsfw story, like everything else on my blog.

this is about Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader

i did not proof read, please excuse any mistakes.

You were sipping on your drink as the cool breeze of the cold winter weather hit your face whenever the door to the pub opened. You could see from the window how the snow was slowly falling in thin watery flakes but as the time passes, the snowflakes turned into bigger flakes. Your drink was somewhat empty already as you looked back around, watching the team getting tipsier as time passes, if not completely drunk already. Your legs were cold, cursing yourself for only wearing thin thighs to your skirt and knee high boots.

It was now past midnight, the pub getting louder and louder and fuller as the door was being opened every few seconds. You just wanted to go home at this point. You really loved spending time with the team but right now.. you wish you could stuff your cold legs into a heater and wait for them to warm up again.

You looked over to Simon, who was sitting right next to you. If a person didn't know Simon personally, they would think that he was just a relaxed person, sitting in the booth, staying quite and absorbing the people around him as well as the location with his stoic attitude but right now, he was definitely very far from being relaxed.

The anger bubbling inside his body was radiating a very unnerving aura, cutting a knife through your calm vibe until it is drained out of blood. This is also one of the reasons you just want to leave this place, immediately.

You kept an eye on him, every once in a while looking up while pretending to look somewhere else. He was sitting very close to you, making sure that his frame covered half of you in the booth. Simon was gripping his drink, side eying you quickly and taking a sip, placing the glass back down on the table a little more aggressive then expected. He was fuming, deeply but Simon knew better and how to hide the fact that he could set this pub on fire, burning it out of aggressiveness just about now.

***

30 Minutes before.

"no, thank you", you clutched your bag to your chest, taking in the man that was standing tall right in front of you. he was wearing a smug grin, his white teeth brighter than the lights in the pub hallway and his weird looking beard which he was probably forcefully trying to grow but only reached from the left side until the right side of his upper lip as well as his chin, taking in your form with his eyes.

"look, I am really not trying to be a creep but I feel like we could fit. I think you are gorgeous and I am not bad myself, so?", his hand was grazing your arm and you instantly took a few steps back, looking at him confused.

"I have a boyfriend, please just leave", the man started to laugh, taking a few closer steps towards you and placing a hand on your shoulder. His hand then travelled down your arm again as he stared into your eyes intensly.

"stop lying and give me a chance love", he leaned in, his lips almost on your ears and with that you grabbed his arm and pushed him off of you with full force. he tumbled a few steps back as you stepped further into his direction, pushing him once again with all your strength as he stumbled and hitting his back against the wall behind him.

"you bitch", he hissed, instantly standing straight again. He stared at you and was about to walk towards you as you took just one step towards him. He mustered you, confusingly taking a step back and then walking away out of embarrassment.

The moment he turned around his body full on crashed into Simon, turning the corner and taking his stance in the middle of the hallway. Simon was wearing his balaclava as always and the way he stared down at the man in front of him would have even you running away in fear.

"s'cuse me", the man said as he hushed away from Simon instantly and disappeared into the crowded Pub. You were eying this small interaction, clutching you handbag to your body again and standing just inches away from the bathroom door. You hoped that Simon has not seen one glimpse of what happened just moments ago because if he did, that man would be fighting for his life right now and he would lose bitterly. That is why you kept your mouth shut.

Simon walked towards you, stomping his boots on the tiles on the ground as you were about to turn around and walk into the bathroom.

„who was that?”, he said after he instantly grabbed your wrist with his hand and held you before you could make another move and enter the bathroom. You turned around and faced him with a confused look, his eyes bored into yours as you rolled your eyes.

“who?..”, you tried to free yourself from his grip but he tightened it again. He was controlling himself to not get overwhelmed with the anger and frustration that was building inside him as he stared down at you. He knew something happened and he wanted to hear it..from you. You just stared up at him, heart beating faster.

“Simon, I don’t know..I just wanted to go pee and he followed me and told me my outfit looks good”, you still stared into his eyes. His grip loosened on your wrist and you knew he cocked one eyebrow even under his mask, an asking look on his face. He did not speak or was about to and you knew that he was getting frustrated by the minute.

“I told him to leave me alone and then he left”, you looked up at him, your eyes pleading him to let go of your wrist and to not ask any more questions and with that, Simon let go off your wrist.

“Go to toilet, I’ll wait here”, he said. From the way he said this you already knew that Simon was definitely not in the mood to have any more conversation with you. 'Well, that was the end of a fun night', you thought to yourself.

“Simon, you don’t nee-“, pleading eyes as you looked up. Simon was not looking at you anymore, staring up into the hallway.

“I said go, I will wait here”, his eyes instantly shot your way and with that you clutched your bag again and took a few steps away from him to leave into the ladies bathroom.

***

"Next round friends?", Gaz exclaimed loudly for you all to hear. The Pub was getting fuller and fuller the later it got. It was loud, almost unbearable. You looked over at Simon who was finishing up his drink.

He placed the glass back down on the table as the rest nodded and agreed. Even though you were now keen to stay a little longer to not be with Simon alone and enjoy the night you stopped thinking that way the moment Simon placed his hand on your thigh since you were about to ask for another drink.

"We are leaving", he spoke up in his monotone voice. The table exclaimed disappointed with his statement and Soap eyed him from the side. "Why? We just started", he said loudly over the table as he looked over to you as well.

Simon stood up and grabbed your jacket from the seat next to you as he looked down at you. His eyes were demanding rather then asking and normally this is not something that you would tolerate but giving the circumstances you did not want to upset Simon further. You stood up from your seat and smiled at Soap.

"I need to get up early tomorrow to pick up my mother from the airport." you lied, smiling convincingly as Simon helped you into your jacket. Soap nodded understandingly and so was everyone else as you all bid your goodbyes.

Simon opened the door to the pub for you as you waved to the table behind you. The cold night air hit your hot face and you sipped your jacket up. Simon walked past you, just two steps ahead of you as he stomped through the snow to his car which was parked just a two minute walk from the pub. He opened the door for you as you got inside, he did not say a single word to you as he started his car and drove off to your apartment.

You and Simon were not sharing an apartment but whenever Simon was back in the city he stayed in yours. His apartment was a fifteen minute drive from yours but he still liked spending as much time as possible with you or near you.

But right now you were not really sure if that is the case..

"Whats wrong?", you asked and turning on the seat heater for both you and Simon. He glanced at your hand and immediately turned the heater off again, but only for himself and kept yours on. Simon looked straight forward, not giving you one second of attention.

"Hello? I am talking to you", you turned to him, annoyed that he is not talking to you and ignoring you. He turns to you and then back to the road. It was very dark outside but you still knew your whereabouts. It was only a few more minutes until both of you were at your apartment.

"Who was that guy?", he said after a few silent minutes. You still could not believe he was still thinking about that and you rolled your eyes at that. Looking over to him, he was still staring ahead as he drove into a parking spot right before your apartment.

"Are you being serious right now?", you exclaimed as Simon parked the car and turned the engine off. His eyes shot back to yours, looking at your face and squinting his eyes a bit. He raised his eyebrows and watched you. You opened the door to the car and stepped out, walking over to your apartment.

He did the same, slamming his car door and walking behind you. You opened the front door, walked to the elevator as it immediately opened for both of you to walk inside.

"Are you seriously mad at me because of that guy?", the elevator door shut and you turned to him. He was leaning against the elevator wall as he looked down at you.

"Tell me who that man was and we can stop this discussion", he said calmly as the elevator door opened. You walked out and to your apartment, opening the door and the second you walked inside you slipped your shoes off with a loud huff.

"I don't know Simon.. I have already told you so", you could not tell him. You knew this will end in a blood bath and that is something you dearly try to avoid, even though that man deserved it a little.

"Are we lying to each other now?", you turned around and saw him standing at the door, his jacket was still on as he mustered you. Your eyebrows furrowed feeling ashamed of lying to him.

"Simon pleas-", Simon stepped closer to you, his hand grabbing your cheeks but not too harshly as he made you look up at him.

"Who. was. this. man. (Y/N)?", your heart was beating wildly as he stared down at you. You could see him being calm and breathing steadily as if you had a normal conversation with him while you were about to melt like pudding. You stayed quite.

"Are you going to tell me who this man was? I will kill him regardless. Just tell me who he was and why he was touching you and we can end this discussion (Y/N)", he stared into your eyes, glancing from eye to the other as he waited for your responds. But you just shook your head.

He grinned. "Why did he touch you?", he asked sternly again.

"He didn't", a light sigh escaped your mouth the moment Simons hand was placed on your hips.

"Stop lying, I saw it", he squeezed your hip and pushed you towards him closer.

'Shit', you thought. He titled his head to the side and stared down at you. A few seconds past and he dig his fingers further into your hips as they traveled up your body, slowly gliding his fingers to your back. You sighed and closed your eyes.

“Come on baby, tell me what he did”, his hand was sliding from your hip further to the hem of your leggings. His fingers solely gliding alongside your thigh as a sigh escaped you.

“He was trying to flirt with me and tried to get closer but I told him to get away from me and then he came back. He started touching my shoulder and coming closer until I pushed him away and kicked him.” You told him, staring up into his eyes. His grip on your hip loosened as his eyes never left yours.

“So he touched you?”, he mustered annoyed, still looking at your face as his hand left your face. His fingers came back up to your hips as you stared up at him, just nodding.

You could feel the range that was building inside him, the fire in his eyes almost burning you to the ground with his eye contact. You would be lying if you said you didn’t like the attitude he was giving you, the fact that he was dangerously fuming because a stranger touched you.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”, he raised his eyebrow and questioning you. Simon was still standing tall in front of you as he stared down. He never stopped the eye contact and continuing staring. Looking down at him you placed your hand on his chest, your thumb softly rubbed the thin fabric of his sweater.

“Look at me, I asked you a question (Y/N)”, his finger was under you chin lifting it up so you face him again. His eyes boring into yours.

“I didn’t want you to get mad.. i knew what you would have done”, you said calmly and blinked up at him. He hesitated but never stopped the eye contact. He was still fuming, you knew by the way his pupils were blown and his breathing started to get heavier.

“I’m still going to rip out his organs one by one”, a light shiver run down your spine by his words. His dangerous statement made you stop in your tracks and just watching his eyes.

“Why don’t you forget him and start taking care of me Simon?”, you were desperately trying to distract him. Your hand slowly gliding down his chest to his belt. You felt yourself feeling warmer the second his eyes fell to your lips. This handsome man in front of you would kill every human being for you.

He would do whatever you please and the thought of this alone made you feel dizzy. Simons pupils grew bigger and you could see a very small glint of a smile.

“Fucking hell.. do I turn you on baby?”

Part II

[l0n3ly-gh0st205]

Child!reader meeting/ joining the white beard pirates

A/n: Is this a little bit all over the place? Yes. Do I care? No❤️ I got so much love for my previous writing, so I added some more! Giving specific love to the white beard crew ❤️❤️

-ft. Portagas D. Ace, Marco the Phoenix, thatch death

-TW: spoilers for ace’s introduction to the white beard pirates and thatches death, hints of abandonment, yelling, and not much but a little bit of angst in Ace’s section.

-

[■□□□□□□□□□] 10%

☆꧁༒Ĺoading. . .༒꧂☆

[■■■■■■□□□□] 60%

☆꧁༒Ĺoading. . .༒꧂☆

[■■■■■■■■■■] 100%

☆꧁༒Complete༒꧂☆

꧁ head cannons ꧂

You were probably found when you were still an infant, so you have no memory of your life before the crew

They probably say something like you magically appeared in a barrel or one of thatch’s botched recipes spurred you into existence if you ever go around asking questions about it

They want to keep you happy so you don’t doubt your familial bonds

But of course, watching one of your brothers kill your other brother over a weird-looking fruit probably put a damper on that :)

Marco remembers the freezing wind of that faithful day, the ocean breeze picking up shards of ice as a seemingly normal ration run with his friend turned into meeting the youngest member of their crew.

A loud bang shook Marco out of the memory as his head swirled to the door. The familiar childish screams and laughs at least hinted that the noise wasn’t causing pain; he couldn’t help but smile.

It’s been five years since that winter storm, and although the phoenix hated the cold more than anything, he couldn’t help but be glad for that storm.

Thatch stumbled on a hidden branch covered in snow. Marco grabbed his arm before glaring at the other man

“We had to come during the middle of winter-yoi?” He snarked for the umpteenth time since the two got caught in the storm. Thatch huffed and rolled his eyes “bug off bird brains; they’ve got the best beef in the west blue!” He snapped. The two came upon a rushing river, and thatch groaned, nodding towards the rubble of a bridge that once stood

“Seems the ice and rapids took out the bridge, be a dear big bird and Carry me over?” Thatch slid a sly smile to Marco, who rolled his eyes “you always boast about your ability to swim yoi-“ the rattle of wood cut off Marco's comment, and the two commanders glanced over at the bridge, noting a small box that was caught on some rubble, the two watched as the box shook against the tide leering to the side causing the freezing water to slip into the box. The cold caused the young occupant in the box to let out a blood-curdling scream causing both of the men to tense.

“It's open,” Marco responded to the gentle taps on his door. It opened with a protesting squeak, and the young child peeped their head around the corner

“Big brother! Ace is being mean to me-” the child pouted, causing the old doctor to chuckle “(Y/N), what did you do now yoi?”

“Did nothin'! Promise!” they huffed, sending a glare toward the doctor “it's all Teaches fault! He told me lunch was ready and to go wake up ace!” Marco hummed, resting his chin on his hand, “and, let me guess, you decided to wake him up by tickling him, yoi ?” he couldn't help but smile at the way they puff out their cheeks while muttering a small ‘maybe.’

Marco got up from his seat and gently ruffled the youngster's hair “come on, let's go see if thatch can whip up some food to help soothe ace yoi,” he said with a smile, gently pushing the younger out the door

“Okay!” they called out and started running down the hall, leaving the old man behind to wallow in his sentimental ways with a smile.

After first getting brought onto the ship you know damn well these men didn't know how to care for a baby-

I can just imagine them trying to feed you by offering you a giant turkey leg 💀

Since Marco stayed on the ship most of the time, he was your number-one babysitter. It would have been pops, but he was so nervous that he’d hurt you cause you're so small :(

If Marco couldn't, then thatch would be the second-best person; he’d keep you in the kitchen so you didn't get into too much trouble

Thatch and Marco were there for most of your significant milestones, and we’re always quick to share it with the rest of the crew

Thatch stared down at the carnage that graced his kitchen. Plates were broken and strewn on the floor; his delicate fresh vegetables smushed and drooled on. He turned to the rather cute culprit. Who was asleep on the tile floor, red hands from smoothing the tomatoes, holding an eggplant as a pillow.

Thatch pinched the bridge of his nose, suppressing a scream. He looked back at the sleeping toddler and gently picked them up, stirring them from their slumber “so- what do you have to say for yourself?” He grumbled.

The baby in his arms just smiled and lazily babbled at him, mouth full of baby teeth and eyes sparkling with more stars than the night sky; really, how could he stay mad at this adorable creature? The cook smiled at the child’s nonsense, and the baby reached up for him, dirty hands smearing tomato juice all over his white collar, and he rolled his eyes

“Alright, alright, you little demon, let’s get you cleaned up before you make even more of a mess- of course, you start crawling when I’m not looking-“ the chief mumbled and headed for the bathroom. He ran the warm water and gently placed the toddler down in the water, making sure he cleaned off any remaining mess from their skin.

Ace was a different story.

Im not saying fuck canon time line… but-

The ex-captain of the spade pirates infamously wanted nothing to do with the white-beard crew.

Despite his multiple murder attempts- the youngest member of white beards crew always seemed to follow him around like a little duckling

Did it remind him of his little brothers? Yes. Was he going to admit that you were adorable and could do no wrong in his eyes? …maybe-

Look all I’m saying is-

Ace: *sees a small child* big brother mode A C T I V A T E D.

Ace sat against the railing of the Moby-Dick, twiddling his knife in his hands as he thought of his latest ploy against White-beard. He could feel eyes burning into his side, which he pointedly ignored.

The boy let out a sigh; that brat sure was relentless- he hesitantly raised his eye, meeting the gazes of the crew's youngest member. They let out a soft squeak before ducking behind the corner they used for cover. Ace narrowed his eyes as he huffed out his nose, sliding his knife back into his carrier

“Leave me alone, brat,” he muttered, but the startled gasp was enough that he knew his message got across, the child hesitantly stepped out from behind the corner, and a pang of guilt stabbed through ace’s chest- the kid couldn't have been older than 10. He watched as they seemed to look for their words

“Um… big brother… Marco wanted me to make sure you were, um… you were okay…” they hesitated, looking over aces face and waiting for a reply.

Ace couldn’t help but scrunch his nose in irritation “im not your big brother.” he stated, pointedly rising from his sitting position and starting to walk away. The young pirate gasped and quickly followed after him “b-but gramps said you joined the family-” the child worried their lip between their teeth, recalling macros words

“Be patient,” Marco hummed as (y/n) excitedly swung their legs in their chair, “but I wanna meet my new brother!” they almost whined, pulling a chuckle from the doctor. “In time, Ace is... Let's say having a hard time adjusting to the family.” Marco turned and ruffled his younger siblings' hair. “Think of him like a cat; he isn't comfortable yet; he might bare some claws, yoi.”

(y/n) pushed their bottom lip into a pout, “but he’s my brother- brothers don't hurt each other!” Marco gave them a weary smile “all im saying is just be slow.”

Ace’s scoff of disdain pulled them from their memory, and they stopped, almost slamming right into his leg “im not a part of your stupid family!” he yelled, taking the younger pirate aback

In all the trouble (y/n) had gotten into, they had never heard anyone yell at them with such anger. They bit their lip roughly, holding back the welling emotions as their eyes pricked with tears. They looked down and Ace was taken aback, regretting his tone, not his words.

When (Y/n) looked back up, big fat tears were rolling down their cheeks as they suppressed a sob “y- you just aren’t comfortable yet-“ they wept, using their first to wipe away the futile tears and snot “t-that’s why your claws are out.” They quickly turned away from ace and ran before he could even mutter an apology. Ace tsked and promptly turned away. Guilt was eating him up from the inside.

[pseudepigraphon]

Image Description:  Pokémon Legends Arceus art in the style of aged, black and white photographs. The first ‘photo’ depicts Adaman and Irida standing in a western-style office, likely Laventon’s, side by side. Adaman is a tall scruffy man, with his wavy greying hair pulled back, a sapanpe on his brow, and a short beard. He wears a vest over a dark chijiri robe embroidered in white curl-and-geometric designs. Irida is a short woman, her chin-length hair held under a matanpushi, wearing a middle-tone kaparamip robe with swirling designs in white appliques. A tamasay necklace of pearls and beads is looped around her neck.

The second photo shows all of the wardens crowded together inside of a cise. Palina is a tall woman with short chin-length hair curling out from under a matanpushi; she wears a light-appliqued kaparamip robe and has a bead necklace and snow goggles hanging from her neck. She discreetly holds the hand of Iscan, who wears a vest over a dark ruunpe robe with blocky appliques. Mai smiles with her arms crossed; she has a dark chijiri robe layered over another. Sitting on the floor in front of Mai is Sabi -- who has on a dark robe and fur hat and gloves -- and Calaba -- who has beads around her neck and a light-colored attush robe. Next to Mai is Gaeric, who has chosen to go barechested, with his kaparamip wrapped around his waist by his sash. His hair is up in a pompadour, exposing his hoop earrings, and his beard is greying at either end of his chin; he smiles and puts his hands on his hips. Melli stands smiling with a hand laid over his chest; he has a very tall matanpushi but allows his hair to fall to his chest on either side framing his face; he wears a dark ruunpe robe with rectangular and thorny white appliques. Arezu smiles laxly from next to Melli, her hair curling from her matanpushi onto her cheeks. In front of her is Lian in his cowboy hat, his attush robe appliqued with dark thorny swirls, a strap reaching around his chest and a saranip pouch hanging from a shoulder. Resting a hand on Lian’s shoulders is Ingo, who wears a modern western-style dark coat, pants (which are tucked into white gaiters), pokéball  belt, and conductor’s hat over a pale kaparamip. He looks sullenly into the camera, his white muttonchops growing into a full beard. All the adult women have lip and hand tattoos. End ID.

from the archives of professor soham laventon (1831-1902)

[rookthorne]

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐓𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐞

There was never, ever a dull moment when it came to the pair of troublemakers you had involved yourself with, and your Christmas market stall was not immune, either.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𖠺 Tattoo Artist!CW!Bucky Barnes x Florist!F!Reader x Tattoo Artist!Nomad!Steve Rogers

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 𖠺 2.1k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𖠺 Fluff, crack, Disney puns

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 𖠺 Y'all thank @smutconnoisseur for this one.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 𖠺 @buckybarnesevents Build a Bucky Bingo — Crackfic (November) — Masterlist 𖠺 @rookthorne's Merry Buckmas — Masterlist

𝐆𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐈𝐧𝐤 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The wind whipped and fluttered the banners of your stall; the flurries of snow it carried danced in the air, until they settled onto your warm, woollen clothes. It was still early — the sun only just peaking above the rows of brownstones that lined the outer sides of the park where the Christmas market was being held. 

You had expected the morning itself to be exhausting — setting up with crates and crates of poinsettias, azaleas, and amaryllises, but two knights came to your rescue, dressed to the nines for the chilly weather with their coats and scarves. 

And if you ignored their grumblings about how it was far too early for a weekend, it was a pleasant, fun experience.

“Petal,” Bucky groaned, slumping his shoulders as he held a crate of arrangements. The air he expelled from between his red-bitten lips misted in the air. “There can’t be anymore, right?”

You raised a brow and pointed towards your stand. “Just set them down there, please. You’re almost done.”

Snow crunched beneath a heavy pair of boots behind you, and Steve’s chin rested on your shoulder. “Don’t you worry, doll,” he said, and he kissed you on the cheek, the bristles of his beard tickling your skin. “Buck’s just grumpy ‘cause he didn’t get any sleep.”

“Yeah,” Bucky snapped, narrowing his eyes. “Because someone decided to keep me awake.”

Steve pulled away from you and then shrugged a shoulder. “Didn’t hear you complaining.”

Bucky opened his mouth to argue, but you held a hand up and stared between them sternly. “Boys,” you scolded, and they had the sense to act sheepish. “That’s enough, we have a stall to set up. Come on.”

“Whatever,” Bucky grumbled, and Steve swatted him on the ass. 

After more petulant whining and pouting, your stall stood proud — colourful and bright amongst the other vendors with the many, many bouquets and arrangements on display. Reds, greens, and yellows shone against the oak of the wooden stall, and the white snow as the backdrop made a beautiful sight; one you were more than happy to spend the day with. 

You walked up to the counter and ran a gloved hand over the wood, marvelling in the colours and knots of the tree used. “It’s beautiful.”

“Not as beautiful as you, sweetheart,” Bucky said beside you, and his arm went around your shoulders to pull you close. His lips, chapped and cold, brushed against your temple before he placed a soft kiss there. “And I’m just as excited for this as that punk, just so you know, baby.”

You smiled and looked at him, leaning into his body. “I know.”

The market became packed quickly. People flocked to each of the stalls, all of them dressed in their warmest coats and beanies they placed on their heads. Every transaction was pleasant but rushed, until the midday sun casted its rays over the gathering of market goers, and they all seemed to slow down in an effort to soak up the fleeting warmth. 

Both Steve and Bucky slumped back in the folding chairs you had brought for them, but they had smiles on their faces; content with the work they had put in to help, no doubt. “Are you guys okay?” you asked during a lull of customers. 

“Yeah,” Steve answered, nodding once. “It’s hard work, being your assistant.”

Bucky choked on a laugh. “Got that right.”

You stared at them both, eyes and mouth flat with faux annoyance. “Don’t make me get the whip out to make you two work– No!”

The two of them burst into hysterics and you turned away, shaking your head. “Idiots. Both of you are idiots.”

Steve and Bucky’s laughter behind you was drowned out amidst the crowd chatter, and you spotted a small child, no older than what you thought could be eight, wandering beside his mother. “Look,” the mother said, pointing straight towards your stall, and the child’s eyes lit up at all of the colours. 

You beamed at them both as they neared. “Hey there, welcome to Fantasy Floristry,” you said, sure to maintain your perfected, professional persona. “What can I help you with?”

The mother was entranced by the azalea and amaryllis’ bouquets, and purchased three of them. 

“Perfect,” you said, taking the cash she offered, and you looked over your shoulder at Bucky who had settled with his sketchbook in his lap and pencil in hand. His tongue was poking out the corner of his mouth, and Steve was staring at him fondly. “Steve,” you whispered. “C’mere.”

Steve’s bright eyes met yours, and he stood, careful not to disturb his husband. “Can you help me get three bouquets ready?” you asked, nodding at the arrangements of red and white flowers. 

“Sure, doll,” Steve said. He smiled at the woman and got to work threading ribbon around the stalks — festive colours with reindeers and Santa heads. 

The child started to become fussy, and both you and the mother looked down at him with a curious gaze. “What is it, honey?” she asked, looking to where he was staring — towards Bucky. “He’s busy, you can’t bother him.”

“Oh,” you said, looking over your shoulder at Bucky — still so engrossed with his sketch. “He can go say hello, that’s okay. Buck likes kids,” you explained, and Steve nodded next to you. “And he can show off his work—any excuse to do so and he’s gone.”

The mother laughed quietly and looked down at her child. “You can go say hello, but be careful,” she said, and you held up a hand. 

“I can take him?” you offered, and a look of relief relaxed her features. “Come on, little man,” you cooed, offering your hand to the young boy. “Let’s go say hello.”

His laughter was contagious as he tottered forwards, snow boots thick and cumbersome to his gait. The toothy smile between his chubby cheeks was contagious, and you found yourself matching him as you neared Bucky’s refuge from the cold air. “Buck?”

Blue eyes met yours in a dazed way, and Bucky blinked, clearing the fog from his mind. “Oh, hey, sweetheart– Oh, hello,” he said, beaming at the boy. “Who’s this, huh?”

You looked over your shoulder at the mother who mouthed, “Peter.”

“This is Peter. Peter, meet Bucky–” You couldn’t even get another word out before the boy jumped forwards, intent on looking at the sketchbook in Bucky’s lap. “Whoa!”

Bucky chuckled and situated the book so Peter could see, and the two of them babbled for a few minutes under the mother’s watchful gaze. You moved back to the counter to take over from Steve, and you looked up at Peter’s mother. “Anything big planned for Christmas?”

The two of you spoke of your Christmas plans, and you didn’t pay any mind to Steve’s absence from beside you after you took over the arrangements — though you could hear the coos and rushed conversation between Bucky and Peter behind you. A particularly loud squeal of delight made you look over your shoulder, and you found Steve squatting down to look at Bucky’s sketchbook with Peter.

“They’re sweet,” Peter’s mother remarked, smiling wistfully. “They remind me of his uncle. I can’t wait to see them all soon.”

You smiled softly in return. “I hope it’s a sweet reunion.”

When it came time for Peter to leave, the young boy threw his arms around Steve’s neck, and then Bucky’s shoulders, hugging them goodbye. 

Steve’s hand rested over the boy’s hand on Bucky’s shoulder, a smirk on his lips — you narrowed your eyes in suspicion, that glint in his eyes was only reserved for when he was playing a trick. 

All of you said goodbye to one another, and Peter, as he walked away, hand in hand with his mother, kept waving until they disappeared into the crowd. 

“Such a sweet kid,” Bucky sighed. “Liked art too—I think he said he wanted to be like us when he grew up, how fuckin’ cute is that?”

“Adorable,” you said, and you kissed Bucky and Steve on the cheek. “Do you guys want some lunch? It’s about that time and I packed your favourite sandwiches.”

It was only when you three had finished your lunch did you notice something was indeed up with Steve — he kept looking at Bucky from the corner of his eyes, that same playful, mischievous glint in his blue eyes. His lips quirked in a knowing smirk, but whenever he caught you staring, his face would fall flat and impassive. “Wha–”

Bucky groaned, interrupting you as he rose from his chair to stretch, and he walked to the bag beneath the counter to grab a drink. 

And then, you spotted it.

“Oh, my–”

Steve made a gesture from the corner of your vision, and you looked over at him. He placed his index finger over his lips, and resumed eating as though nothing happened, but you could not, in good conscience, leave this unsaid. 

“Bucky–” Again, you were interrupted, but this time from laughter beside you, and you stared at Steve incredulously, a slight frown on your lips. 

“What–?” Bucky asked, confused eyes darting between his chortling husband and your incredulous expression. “What is it?”

You sighed and stared intently at Steve. “Say something, or I will.”

Steve burst into laughter, a loud, jubilant sound, and his cheeks turned rosy red. Bucky just rolled his eyes and looked back out towards the lane between stalls, watching the people walk by while he leaned against a support beam for the stall. 

The cause of all the laughter was perched on his shoulders, exactly where Peter and Steve’s hand had been previously — a sticker, small and otherwise not noticeable, if Bucky weren’t wearing a black coat. 

“What’s up, Buck?” Steve teased breathlessly, and he got to his feet to stand next to his husband. Bucky just glared at him. “What? Cat got your tongue?”

“What the fuck are you up to?” Bucky asked, tilting his head. “You’re not subtle, Stevie.”

You started to laugh, suddenly seeing where Steve was taking this conversation. “Steve,” you said, and the blond looked over at you. “Leave him be, c’mon—just tell him.”

And the bastard — the absolute cheeky son of a bitch — grinned wickedly at you before he turned to Bucky, and said with the utmost pleasure in his voice, “I can’t, doll. Our poor Buck has a Chip on his shoulder.”

“You motherfucker,” Bucky breathed, hurriedly brushing a hand over his shoulder to find the sticker that Steve and Peter placed there. “Oh my fuckin’ god!”

You couldn’t hold it in any longer at the absolutely gobsmacked slack of Bucky’s jaw, or his widened eyes — Steve was no better off, bent double next to Bucky, who shoved him in his side so Steve fell against the side of the stall. “I can’t fuckin’ believe I married you, then brought her,” he stared over his shoulder at you, “into this. Unfuckin’believable, the pair a’you.”

For the rest of the day, Bucky sent sullen, playful glares at both you and Steve, though they turned quickly into his own jabs and taunts for how he planned to get you both back. 

When it came time to pack the stall away, you found a stashed collection of Disney character stickers, ranging from the timeless classics, to the modern masterpieces. “I know,” you mumbled, an idea forming in your mind as you glanced from the stickers in your hands, to the blond headed menace that was carrying the crates of flowers into the shop’s van. 

“Bucky,” you hissed, and the brooding figure of Bucky turned to face you, brow raised. “Come here, quick.”

Bucky sighed, but he walked over. “Yes, Petal?”

“Here,” you rushed, and you shoved the stickers into his gloved hands. “Quick, I found these under the counter—pick one and do something with it.”

“Ha,” Bucky breathed, and he snatched the sheet with the other Beauty and The Beast stickers. “Fuckin’ punk won’t know what hits him.” 

You didn’t get a chance to see which sticker he picked before he jogged up to Steve and slapped him on the cheek, the resounding smack resounding through the lane. “Buck– What–?”

Bucky darted away, howling with mirth. “You should become Plumette, babe,” he called, dancing out of reach of his husband. The smirk on his lips was so broad his teeth glinted in the light, and he couldn’t speak without a huff of laughter. “‘Cause you need to brush up on your puns, you fucker.”

“Bucky!”

You laughed as the two of them ran around the van, Steve hot on Bucky’s heels and kicking up snow as they both ran, dodging the attempts to tackle the other. 

It was going to be a long time ‘till you managed to get home, you thought, but you didn’t care. Not when they were laughing and smiling to their heart's content.

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨�� ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

[possibly-in-wonderland]

some modern girl falls into middle earth concepts (the hobbit & lotr)

reader has a gold tooth or two, obvs the company is interested but what happens when thorin gets that gold sickness lmfao

reader has hella tattoos/piercings/body mods (tatted eyeballs, pointed ears, split tongue, fangs, etc) and explains the process to the company (maybe dwalin gets the hots). this is, of course, after the company finds out reader is in fact human and not some odd race they've never heard of

black or native american reader (bc u know how dwarves & elves are with hair)

reader who speaks norwegian and has studied norwegian history (bc why not) and likes to draw comparisons between scandinavian culture and dwarven culture (idk why lmao)

italian reader (bc food)

reader with dai yueqin-length hair (aka if its not up its a tripping hazard to everyone)

reader who's a part of the sca

deaf!reader (maybe bifur's sign language is similar to asl and they end up becoming friends)

blind!reader (reader likes touching faces, im just imagining reader touching one of the dwarves' faces and being like "oh wow ur very handsome", maybe reader likes bigger noses, bigger ears, longer hair, and beards bc they feel interesting as opposed to a clean-shaven face and smaller features)

reader with a beard fetish (*everyone looks at nori and his glorious beard*)

stoner reader who, after falling into middle earth, found themselves constantly stoned stupid due to eating a brownie before the fall (and by some weird magical thing, their body is now "glitched").

alternatively, stoner reader who had seeds on them before they fell.

metalhead reader (specifically eddie munson-style...so thrasher obsessed with dnd).

crackfic idea: introducing the dwarves to diggy hole (lmao)

reader, who's obsessed with stories, tells the company a different story from their home world each night (like a story about a young viking managing to train the most ferocious dragon (how to train your dragon)). later, reader ends up retelling snow white and the seven dwarves.

some sort of bl2 x hobbit crossover (reader's a siren but not from the borderlands universe, and in this case their magic is more like pony magic from mlp friendship is magic or bonnies magic from vampire diaries). they dont get any markings or anything until they "leech" the gold sickness from thorin (which, in turn, affects the reader by making their powers more awesome). obvs there's some limitations (they lose the ability to fully control their limbs and are pretty much wheelchair-bound for a few months). reader is pretty much a demigod (probably just as powerful if not maybe a little less powerful than gandalf).

reader fell into middle earth a couple thousand years ago but due to some weird aging thing and middle earth time working differently than modern earth time they age differently. they've become some minor witch or wizard.

reader "scent marks/chins" to show love (like a rabbit)

reader whos part of modern royalty from our world (and enjoys middle earth more than anything bc they don't have to be "propper" all the time, maybe their more of a princess diana royal)

speaking of princess diana: reader gushes over princess diana

post botfa: fem!reader flirts with dis (lol)

reader pretends to by psychic (like in psych) but in reality they've read every book part of the lotr/hobbit universe and know everything (maybe they understand some of their languages as well, not enough to be fluent but enough to pick out certain words)

reader grew up DEEP in the mountains of west virginia (and likes to sing country roads at random points, though they change some of the lyrics bc they don't have the crayons nor willpower to explain a radio)

reader knows "big bad john" and "the cajun queen" by jimmy dean by heart

reader quietly singing jolene after the events of mirkwood

reader lives life by the kenny rogers song "the gambler"

most of the songs the reader knows are either by dolly parton or kenny rogers (or any other artist similar like reba)

reader casually talks about the horrors of our world like its the most normal thing (ww2, systematic racism, the truth of thanksgiving, climate change, 2020, the patriarchy and how they treat women, etc)...everyone looks horrified

reader writes hozier-style songs

reader is the biggest fucking flirt (but by that, i mean they'll flirt with trees...not just ents, no, trees...and rocks)

reader, a seemingly innocent-looking woman, was a deathmetal vocalist in our world

reader has a thing for watching blacksmiths and metalsmiths (i used to like watching forged in fire until i realized they were a bunch of sexists)

reader has the deepest southern accent-

reader is a little insecure only to find out that everything society deems gross and unsightly in our world is hella attractive to dwarves (body hair, extra weight, etc)

reader has abandonment issues and is terrified the company or fellowship are gonna abandon them at any point

reader introduces the company/fellowship to truth or dare, reader get's dared to tell the group their biggest secret, they pull out their childhood stuffed animal from their bag and introduce the group to said stuffed animal. reader thinks the group will laugh at them. the fellowship finds it endearing. the company also finds it endearing (esp dori, bifur, and bofur).

reader goes on a tangent about frontal lobes for a solid 15 minutes straight with no stopping bc of that one hyperfixation they had a few years back.

reader with chronic pain. they never talk about it but something goes wrong, reader and (we'll say dwalin) switch bodies. the pain is so bad dwalin is keeling over and after they get switched back everyone has a little more respect for reader than before. ("what do you mean tHIS IS NORMAL EVERYDAY PAIN? YOU MEAN TO TELL ME THIS FLARES UP AND GETS WORSE??? THIS ISNT EVEN THE WORST OF IT???" reader shrugs "eh u get used to it after living with it for ur entire life")

reader doesn't like wearing shoes, but has feet as strong as a hobbits so its fine

everyone's explaining what folktale they tell children in different cultures when asked where babies come from. the dwarves talk about being born of rocks, hobbits talk about being born in gardens, the human reader tells the story of the stork

idk i kinda wanna mix some of these together

[who-knew-a-sheep-can-write]

Voyeuristic Intentions: Blackwatch!Genji Shimada x Reader x Blackwatch!Cole Cassidy (NSFW)

Contains: Poly sex, oral sex, anal sex, slight masturbation, hair pulling, semi-public sex, spanking (done once), dirty talk, slight-voyeurism with a little surprise at the end ;)

Reyes’ office was dark, tall curtains drawn shut from the bright white snow outside glittering in the moonlight. Winds howled, pushing against the reinforced glass and metal windows that protected you from the harsh Swiss weather. It was dark overall, to be honest. Instead of the normal gray and white paint coating the walls of the rest of the Overwatch base, Reyes made it a fact to paint the walls black in his office despite the small Blackwatch wing matching the rest of the base.

Your feet squeaked against the polished marble tiles. They were a light gray to match the ceiling, contrasting the black, it made everything feel sterile strangely.

Normally it would feel like you were suffocating when you sat across from him in this office, the void black walls would feel like they were closing in on you as you would get a lecture. Now, it felt as though it was pushing them both closer to you.

Both the jingling sound of spurs and the clicking of cybernetics made your head swim. You felt hot under the collar of your Blackwatch uniform, you felt it clinging to you in ways that made you wish they would both pull it off of you faster.

You felt Cole’s hands run up your sides, fingertips digging into your ribs so tightly that you swore he could feel your heart beating through the bone cage. He hooked his fingers into the fabric, wanting to so desperately yank it off of you without fear of the consequences of a ruined uniform. That would certainly land you right back here in Reyes’ office for a stern lecture. He was behind you, his broad and brawny chest was pressed up against your back. He had his face buried in the side of your neck, his beard scratching at your skin as he pressed hot kisses to your throat and biting the columns of your neck. He was so warm, his heat made you want to cry and rip your uniform right off your body.

Genji was in front of you. Unlike Cole who was pressed up against your back, Genji gave you just a bit of room before you so you wouldn’t feel crushed. His hands were cold, you welcomed them as they traveled along your front side. From your face to your throat where he could feel your pulse racing under his thumb down to your chest and shoulders where he grabbed at to guide you forward into the empty office. His eyes were open, trained on yours, looking for even the slightest hesitation to let him know to stop.

Reyes’ office wasn’t all that furnished. A large metal desk towards the back of the room, his large and overstuffed desk chair sat tall facing three smaller chairs. They were metal with only a little bit of a padding for the cushion, it helped drill in the feeling that you were in trouble. You would rather be handcuffed in the holding cells on the concrete and metal jut out that made up the “bed” than those chairs. There were barely any hangings on the walls, just a few plaques bestowed upon him by Overwatch as well as a group photo of Blackwatch hung behind him.

All that was missing was the mug Cole comically had gotten him a while ago when you five had a mission in Houston; A big white coffee mug with the words ‘World’s Best Dad’ written on it seemingly with black crayon.

“You sure we won’t get in trouble,” you glanced over your shoulder to the tall cowboy behind you.

Cole only tutted you, knocking back the tip of his stetson, feigning being wounded.

“Darlin’, ya hurtin’ me,” he nuzzled into your hair, “ya know we’ll take mighty good care of ya.”

Cole nipped at your earlobe as he tugged on your uniform. Genji moved his cybernetic hand to your face, his cold fingers cradled your chin and lifted your head to look him in the eyes. The cyborg had removed his faceplate, revealing his full scarred face.

“And besides, the Commander is not here.”

“Yeah, probably fuckin’ Morrison in some broom closet,” Cole ground himself against your behind. “Just like how we’re gonna fuck you.”

You shivered at those words as the two gripped onto you just a bit tighter. Cole and Genji lead you deeper into the office towards the desk, Genji leaving your front for just a moment as he rounded the desk and pushed Reyes’ towering chair out of the way. Cole pushed you forward until you were pressed up against the ridge of the cold desk.

You were pushed down onto the desk only to catch yourself on your elbows. Cole wasted no time fumbling with the pants to your uniform, his large hands grabbing the belt and wrestling it off of you from behind until he was finally able to pull it off and lower your waistband and underwear to just below the curve of your ass. Cole, not being able to help himself, smacked your bare ass, a short cry managing to leave your lips before the cowboy clamped a hand over your mouth.

“Maybe we’ll save that for next time,” he smirked at Genji wolfishly.

The cyborg stayed silent as Cole fumbled with his belt, you felt Genji shift before you. The cyborg before you had removed the plate from his lower torso, revealing his erect cock now in your face. It wasn’t scarred like the rest of his body, and a bead of precum rested right at the tip slowly beading down his thick shaft.

You had leaned forward and wrapped your lips around Genji’s cock. The cyborg hissed as you swirled your tongue around his head, licking up the beads of precum that had leaked out. You had started to slowly bob your head along his length until he hit the back of your throat when you pulled back gently only to do it again. Genji placed his human hand on top of your head, fingers curling into your hair, nails biting into your scalp just enough to lightly pinch. He would sink his nails into your scalp every time you bobbed your head down on his cock, taking in his thick length more and more until you had swallowed him to the root. As you looked up, you noticed he wasn’t looking at you, instead, he had his eyes closed and his head was tilted up just a bit. His mouth was opened slightly, eyebrows twitching, and his breathing was shaky.

You heard Cole’s fly finally rip down, the cowboy’s cock hitting your bare asscheeks. You shivered when you heard him spit into his hands and stroke himself. Cole’s deep groans made you whimper against Genji’s cock.

You pulled away when you felt Cole spread your asscheeks. You whimpered at the tap at your hole and cried when you felt his lubricated head slowly penetrate through the tight hole. Genji gave you no time to catch your breath when he hoisted your jaw open and jerked his cock back into your mouth.

You could barely breathe between Genji’s cock basically choking you from the front and Cole’s cock stretching your ass from the back. Cole gave you only a moment to adjust to his girth before he started to move. It started with slow strokes, the cowboy hissing behind you as he tried to get used to how tight you were, he grabbed at your waist and dug his fingertips into your flesh.

Cole eventually got faster with his thrusts, he got more sloppy and rough with each buck of his hips. With every thrust, he would push you closer and closer to Genji, push your front into the desk even more, and jerk your legs up just a bit with each thrust to the point where you would be standing on your toes.

With every thrust from behind, you would jerk further forward, forcing you to take Genji up to the root every time.

You moaned, feeling your legs wanting to go numb. You felt static forming in your knees. Your back ached from the curve but you loved it. You don’t know how much time had passed. Minutes melted together to what felt like hours of bliss.

“Fuck, darlin’,” Cole groaned as he continued pounding away, “yer so fuckin’ tight. I can only imagine how that pretty mouth of yours feels right now.”

“Don’t stop,” the cyborg warned.

You weren’t sure who it was he warned, but you knew Cole wouldn’t let up anytime soon.

Genji’s fingers tugged at your hair again, making your back arch in a way that had Cole groaning and quicken his thrusts. You felt the coils in your core tighten up fast, you felt tight and stiff, about to tip over the edge into ecstasy.

You came with a short moan muffled by Genji’s cock. By that point, your pants had fallen to your shaking knees.

You felt Genji’s cock start to twitch in your mouth, he was groaning more, and his breathing was starting to labor until he finally came apart in your mouth.

You swallowed Genji’s salty cum, the cyborg forcing you to look him in the eyes as you did so with his fingers pinching at your jaw. You rocked in his touch as Cole still thrust from behind, you couldn’t help but screw your eyes shut when he bucked his hips and plunged himself deeper and deeper inside before you felt him twitch inside of you. You both let out moans at the warm stretch only for Cole to groan loudly, the cowboy planting a hand at the back of your head and forcing you cheek-down onto the Reyes’ cold desk.

Genji let go of your jaw to wipe away a drop of his cum that had dripped out from the corner of your mouth as Cole rode out his climax still in your ass, warmth seeping deep inside of you slowly before he pulled himself out, releasing his grip on your head in the process.

You shivered as you felt Cole’s hot and sticky cum roll down your inner thighs. The sudden opening of the door had your eyes fly open out of a mixture of shock and fear. You felt both Cole and Genji lock up, you and Cole having to whip your heads around to see the figure standing in the doorway.

Commander Reyes stood there, having now just looked up from the folder in his hands, eyes landing on the three of you at his desk and the creamy white mess. The Commander simply rolled his shoulders and lowered his brow, his lips were pressed into a tight line.

He dropped the folder to the floor by the door and kicked it closed with the heel of his combat boot, marching towards the three of you.

“Looks like you forgot to invite me to the party.”

[81-op-pastries]

Night before Christmas - F1 edition🏎️

Hello I haven't written as many stories as I want to because of some health issues but I wish you all a merry Christmas ❤️ and I'll work on them still I promise that, until then here's a little poem.

'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the paddock,

Not a creature was stirring, not even a stock.

The helmets were hung by the garage with care,

In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.

Oscar Piastri nestled all snug in his bed,

While visions of podiums danced in his head.

With trophies and triumphs, a season well-spent,

He dreamt of success, a true champion's intent.

When out on the track, there arose such a clatter,

Oscar sprang from his bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the pit lane, he flew like a flash,

Tore open the garage, ready to dash.

The moon on the crest of the virtual waves,

Gave a luster of silver to the cars on the pave.

When, what to his wondering eyes should appear,

But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer.

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,

Oscar knew in a moment, it must be St. Nick.

More rapid than eagles, his coursers they came,

And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name.

"Now, Lando! Now, Lewis! Now, Max and Seb!

On, Charles! On, Daniel! On, Fernando and Esteban!

To the top of the podium, to the victory lane!

Now dash away, dash away, dash away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,

When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.

So up to the housetop, the coursers they flew,

With the sleigh full of gifts, and St. Nicholas too.

And then, in a twinkling, Oscar heard on the roof,

The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.

As he drew in his head, and was turning around,

Down the pit lane, St. Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in red, from his head to his foot,

And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.

A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,

And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack.

His eyes—how they twinkled! His dimples, how merry!

His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,

And the beard on his chin was as white as the snow.

Oscar couldn't believe his eyes, what a sight!

St. Nick was a racing fan, that much was right.

He spoke not a word but went straight to his work,

Filling the stockings, then turned with a jerk.

And laying his finger aside of his nose,

And giving a nod, up the pit lane he rose.

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,

And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.

But Oscar heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,

"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!"

[andy-clutterbuck]

9x04 | The Obliged

[sufficientlylargen]

Merry Crit Miss

'Tis the night before Crit Miss, and all through your house, not a sound can be heard save the click of your mouse. You scroll through your dashboard with nary a care; you've no clue that Saint Nicholas soon will be there.

You reblog your 500th Goncharov post, and continue to scroll, completely engrossed. When, from up above, there arises such clatter that you leap from your bed to see what is the matter!

In your haste, you forget you were browsing your dash - your laptop is hurled 'cross the room in a flash! It lands on its corner; you're sure it's just broke - with a crunch and a flash the machine belches smoke.

The cloud makes you dizzy, your vision gets blurry, and you lurch through the door to escape in a hurry. You misjudge the door frame, trip, stub many toes, and fall face-first forwards to land on your nose.

The main room is dark but stars flash in your vision and you feel blood drip from the site of collision. Dazed and confused you sprawl out on the ground, when you suddenly hear an odd rapping sound.

It sounds like… A horse? Or some other hoof? It's prancing and pawing up there on your roof? Oh right! You remember that something had clattered! That's why you'd jumped up, why your laptop was shattered!

And now there's a scraping noise from near the flue - Is this some weird break-in? What should you do? You grope for a lightswitch and just as it's hit, a kindly voice booms "HO, HO, OH HOLY SHIT!"

In a twinkling you realize your awful mistake as the room fills with screams and the air starts to bake. The switch which you thought ought to turn on the light was instead that which makes the gas fireplace ignite!

And now you can see, by the light of the fire, the shape of a man wrapped in flames like a pyre! He's trying to open the grate to get out, but it's stuck - rusted shut through neglect, you've no doubt.

You take up a poker and rush to the grate, Prying and trying with all of your weight to force it apart! SNAP! It breaks from the wall! And you and the flaming man to the floor fall!

The grating is hot, and it burns at your skin as you work your way out of the heap that you're in. One last shove and you're free! You stand up, and look down at the stranger who's lying, too still, on the ground.

He's dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot, though a lot of it's now turned to ashes and soot. The stump of a pipe still protrudes from his teeth, While ashes encircle his head like a wreath;

The beard of his chin, once as white as the snow, is stained red with blood in the embers' dull glow, And his blankness of eye, and the twist of his head, Soon give you to know that this dude's super-dead.

With horror you notice, right in this man's chest A long metal rod is quite firmly impressed. The poker you'd grabbed when the grating was stuck! It went right through his sternum! Oh shit, you think, fuck!

In shock you lurch back, but your foot hits a snag - It's caught on the edge of late Santa's toy bag. You trip and expect to land flat on your back…

But instead you plunge into the toy-toting sack…

And that, I'm afraid, is the end of this tale, For my observational powers here fail. The toy-bag of Santa's a curious place Where infinite gifts drift in transfinite space

But without good Saint Nick there to tend to the mess What happens within it I only can guess. Perhaps you keep falling. Perhaps ground you hit. Perhaps you awaken some Thing in the pit.

The things that I do know: your house does burn down, And in its remains just one body is found. It's chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf, (now stabbed and flambéed by your since-vanished self).

A lot of deer droppings are seen the next day, But nobody sees a reindeer, or a sleigh. And so this poem closes, we've come to the end. Merry Crit Miss to all!

You are not seen again.

[strangemagicc]

Eddie has never been a big fan of Christmas. There’s never been a reason for much excitement but especially after his mother died. All the days had bled together as he just tried to survive. So he doesn’t understand the giddy excitement you get as the seasons change. When autumn leaves turn to white blankets of snow and the air runs cold. He didn’t understand until he moved in with you, watched as you danced around the tree haphazardly putting ornaments up and singing along to the Labi Siffre record playing in the background. You’d tried pulling him from the couch, inviting him to put ornaments on the tree but he was afraid he’d ruin it. Spoil the evening for what it was.

Bless the Telephone came through the record player sending him back to five years old, gazing up at his mom. Happy, smiling. Alive. Memories of the childlike giddiness he felt when she would perch him on her toes and dance in the kitchen with him. Elvis, Labi Siffre and Bob Dylan on an endless rotation. Chocolate chip cookies in the oven, hot cocoa on the stovetop. Little treats to distract him from her deteriorating health. The gnawing sadness is replaced with a new feeling. Hesitant happiness as he continued to watch you dance around the tree, unaware of the memory attached to the song. Eddie moved from the couch and wrapped his arms around you, chin slotted into the place where your shoulder and neck met. His beard tickled just a little and you giggled at the touch.

“Are you going to help mister?” You teased and placed another ornament on the tree.

“How about we dance first?” You turned your head curiously, eyeing the little gleam in his gaze and nodded. Wrapping your arms around his neck, enjoying the way his arms twined around your waist. Head rested on his chest. A peaceful easy feeling that Eddie hadn’t felt since he was five. The first Christmas he’d spent in a house that felt like home, his home with you. And it’s on that day that he becomes a Christmas person, relishing in the shared excitement. The giddy feeling that reminded him of being a kid. That reminded him of his mom but this time the memory wasn’t bittersweet. The years would pass and he’d be the first one off the couch dragging you to the tree, both you scattering ornaments and smiling. Faces illuminated by twinkling lights. A picture of Eddie’s mom would be perched on the banister, chocolate chip cookies in the oven and hot cocoa on the stove. It’s just like she’s here and he’s with his two favorite girls.

[konigsblog]

I want snow leopard price to pick me up like a kitten and carry me with him everywhere. I want him to take me to his den when he finds me out camping. He’d be like “why are you out here in the cold when there’s a perfectly good den right here??” He’d be up in the mountains and steal the blankets from hikers/campers who didn’t survive the cold. Just a big nest of fuzzy blankets that he’s rubbed in pine so they smell good along with his own scent.

He would find you sleeping in the cold in your thin tent and take pity on you and be like “ok this one’s cute so I’m gonna keep it”. Wrapping you up in your own blanket and carrying you bridal style. He’d keep you in his warm den and he’d probably get a little offended if you tried to help. Do you think he can’t take care of you?? Does he seem incompetent? Smh. Just let him hunt while you start a fire or try to find edible plants

However the nsfw part is him breeding the fuck out of you. Absolutely railing you once you’ve accepted that you’re stuck with him and the least you can do is give him babies. He’s big and strong and hairy and he’ll provide for you and your babies!!! After the initial shock of being semi-kidnapped you realize he’s awooga and slowly warm up to him

🪤

he'd be soso rough with you, unable to hold himself back when your cunt pulses around him, twitching in your wet hole and squirting hot semen into you:(((;

big nest warm with blankets, snow leopard price rubbing his cheek against your face, mumbling words into your neck and caressing your body with a tight grip, nails biting down into your flesh whilst he sunk his teeth into you, drawing scarlet liquid, forcing it to drip out of your wound - canines digging into your shoulder, causing tears to spill out your eyes and falling down your cheeks as he continued to suck at your wound harshly.

bending you over, ass in the air and head pushed down into his pillows, aligning his fat cock up against your soaked hole, wet and sensitive as he teased your lips. humping his cock between them - coating his dick and your ass cheeks in your wet arousal and pre-cum. slick running down your thighs and dripping slowly against your legs.

his fat veiny cock, stuffing you full whilst whining aloud, voice bouncing off the walls and echoing. his tip hitting a sweet spot when he pushed you as far as your cunny would allow him; his pre-cum coating your insides white and spilling out the sides as he thrusted into you; soft broad hips ramming into your cunt, balls smacking hard against your cunny soso nicely :(( - sending your moans to come out in waves as each ram to your pussy forced you forward.

his cock twitching in your wet hole, clenching and tightening around his large and hard cock that leaked cum from the tip, paws holding your head down and knocking the wind out of your lungs with each thrust deep and hard, heavy balls slamming against your cunt, desperate to fill so nicely, spreading your lips and watching as cum drip out of you, cunny raw and sore from the rough friction against it.

“fuck, so close...” your fingers grasping at his blankets that acted as a nest, whimpering into the soft military covers, your drool running down your chin and neck as more tears threatened to spill. cheeks stained red and eyes puffy from endless crying whilst his fingers began to flick your clit and tease you, overstimulation forcing more cries to choke in your throat.

his hot seed filling you so nicely, fat huge cock squirting hot semen into you. pulling your pink panties up and staining them white, the previous colour ruined by his sperm. sliding down your thighs and landing on the bed in fat globs, his tongue sucking deep bruises, saliva coating you and his musky aroma scenting you as his own, sweaty skin rubbing against your body, friction burning your skin, his thick beard rubbing against your neck.

[ilynpilled]

The golden armor, not the white, but no one ever remembers that. Would that I had taken off that damned cloak as well.

When I reach King's Landing I'll have a new hand forged, a golden hand.

Cersei might like that. A golden hand to stroke her golden hair.

I am not myself. He eased himself down until the water reached his chin. “Soiled my white cloak . . . I wore my gold armor that day, but . . ."

“Gold armor?” Her voice sounded far off, faint.

Jaime slid into the offered seat quickly, so Bolton could not see how weak he was. "White is for Starks. I'll drink red like a good Lannister."

She did as he bid her. "The white cloak . . ."

". . . is new, but I'm sure I'll soil it soon enough."

“That wasn't . . . I was about to say that it becomes you.”

When he was done, more than three-quarters of his page still remained to be filled between the gold lion on the crimson shield on top and the blank white shield at the bottom. Ser Gerold Hightower had begun his history, and Ser Barristan Selmy had continued it, but the rest Jaime Lannister would need to write for himself. He could write whatever he chose, henceforth. Whatever he chose . . .

"Robert's beard was black. Mine is gold."

"Gold? Or silver?" Cersei plucked a hair from beneath his chin and held it up. It was grey. "All the color is draining out of you, brother. You've become a ghost of what you were, a pale crippled thing. And so bloodless, always in white." She flicked the hair away. "I prefer you garbed in crimson and gold."

At its head Jaime stood at vigil, his one good hand curled about the hilt of a tall golden greatsword whose point rested on the floor. The hooded cloak he wore was as white as freshly fallen snow, and the scales of his long hauberk were mother-of-pearl chased with gold. Lord Tywin would have wanted him in Lannister gold and crimson, she thought. It always angered him to see Jaime all in white.

Ser Jaime Lannister, all in white, stood beside his father's bier, five fingers curled about the hilt of a golden greatsword.

Fissures had opened in his cheeks, and a foul white fluid was seeping through the joints of his splendid gold-and-crimson armor to pool beneath his body.

Glory wore trappings of Lannister crimson; Honor was barded in Kingsguard white.

His cloak was Lannister crimson, but his surcoat showed the ten purple mullets of his own House arrayed upon a yellow field.

"My lord," the lad asked, "will you be wanting your new hand?"

"Wear it, Jaime," urged Ser Kennos of Kayce. "Wave at the smallfolk and give them a tale to tell their children.”

“I think not." Jaime would not show the crowds a golden lie. Let them see the stump. Let them see the cripple.

Behind the lords came a hundred crossbowmen and three hundred men-at-arms, and crimson flowed from their shoulders as well. In his white cloak and white scale armor, Jaime felt out of place amongst that river of red.

Jaime Lannister wore a doublet of red velvet slashed with cloth-of-gold, and a golden chain studded with black diamonds. He had strapped on his golden hand as well, polished to a fine bright sheen. This was no fit place to wear his whites. His duty awaited him at Riverrun; a darker need had brought him here.

Jaime had thought long and hard about whether to wear his gold armor or his white to this meeting; in the end, he'd chosen a leather jack and a crimson cloak.

For an instant, the deep red clouds that crowned the western hills reminded him of Rhaegar's children, all wrapped up in crimson cloaks.

Seven bloody hells," he started, "who dares—" Then he saw Jaime's white cloak and golden breastplate. His swordpoint dropped. "Lannister?"

quotes specifically focusing on his hand:

“The boy is dead." Jaime had drunk three cups of wine, and his golden hand seemed to be growing heavier and clumsier by the moment.

His golden fingers were curved enough to hook, but could not grasp, so his hold upon the shield was loose. "You were a knight once, ser," Jaime said. "So was I. Let us see what we are now."

“Radiant." Fickle. "Golden." False as fool's gold. Last night he dreamed he'd found her fucking Moon Boy. He'd killed the fool and smashed his sister's teeth to splinters with his golden hand, just as Gregor Clegane had done to poor Pia. In his dreams Jaime always had two hands; one was made of gold, but it worked just like the other.

"Men shall name you Goldenhand from this day forth, my lord," the armorer had assured him the first time he'd fitted it onto Jaime's wrist. He was wrong. I shall be the Kingslayer till I die.

One of them wore the ruins of a crimson cloak, but Jaime hanged him with the rest. It felt good. This was justice. Make a habit of it, Lannister, and one day men might call you Goldenhand after all. Goldenhand the Just. The world grew ever greyer as they drew near to Harrenhal.

The weight of his golden hand had grown irksome. He fumbled at the straps that secured it to his wrist.

Well, what's one more broken vow to the Kingslayer? Just more shit in the bucket. Jaime resolved to be the first man on the battlements. And with this golden hand of mine, most like the first to fall.

Around him he glimpsed the faces of men he'd done his best to kill in the Whispering Wood, where the Freys had fought beneath the direwolf banners of Robb Stark. His golden hand hung heavy at his side.

then the subconscious conclusion:

"Is it?" She smiled sadly. "Count your hands, child."

One. One hand, clasped tight around the sword hilt. Only one. "In my dreams I always have two hands." He raised his right arm and stared uncomprehending at the ugliness of his stump.

I think the narrative that is being told in the color symbolism present in Jaime’s story is the realization that glory has no presence in the man he wants to become. He gradually realizes again the truth of the golden hand covering his stump being a golden lie. It is more an embodiment of his sins, a heavy burden he carries. True honor and change will not be wrapped in gold, and obviously not crimson. But this should not lead to the return of his cynicism, which is how he approaches this early on, and why he wants to delude himself about it. He greys, and he sheds the red and gold color. The white becomes him. The crimson & gold comes back when he does his duty for the horrid Lannister regime, when he sustains loyalty to his family, and emulates his father. Nonetheless, he keeps drawing nearer to the blank white shield at the bottom of his page and distancing himself from the crimson at the top. But maybe the lesson is that he cannot start over like that. Maybe his only choices are not the evil Kingslayer and the glittering Goldenhand the Just. Maybe he should just be Jaime. That white shield is tainted. Our good actions do not wash out the bad. They will exist simultaneously. You will never be the golden heir, the perfect pure white Just Knight. You are a crippled broken man. But that does not mean you cannot choose to continue living and keep pushing to change for the better:

“What else can I do, but die?”

“Live,” she said

Maybe the blank white shield is an impossible ideal not made for him. But what remains if he cannot be crimson, gold, or the pure white?

yet she knew it was him. “Even at a distance, Ser Jaime Lannister was unmistakable. The moonlight had silvered his armor and the gold of his hair, and turned his crimson cloak to black.”

He was always meant to be a grey character. Why don’t we mix that black & white?