#and then set the building on fire so nothing could ever happen there again

[ifwebefriends]

My thoughts during “The Sign” [SPOILERS!!!!!]

ID in ALT

More thoughts under the cut

So I think most of us can agree that this is the best episode of Bluey so far. It was so emotional and satisfying in ways that are kinda new for Bluey. It answered so many questions while giving us a few new ones. I’ve been waiting for this episode for months and it did not disappoint in any way.

This is just a Chekov’s firing squad of an episode. As in a lot of stuff that was set up in earlier episodes all pay off in this episode. I kinda understand why people love soap operas now lol. I will say that this episode was a tad overwhelming for me in the best way possible. As in I had to pause and rewind every 30 seconds or so so I could emotionally process what was happening before moving forward (but that’s a me thing). There was just so much going on and I’m happy about that.

Now onto individual thoughts about specific things:

The callback to Baby Race (“you took your first steps in that house!”) really got to me because Baby Race was the first episode of Bluey that I watched and it immediately made me fall in love with it so it just got to me.

When Chilli said “Frisky and I came up here as teenagers to…um…think,” my mind started racing immediately with “what the FUCK happened at the Lookout?” “Who hurt Frisky and/or Chilli?” And I’m just so curious about what made Chilli say that line like that but we’ll probably never know what happened.

So yeah that scene at the end when the music was playing and Bandit ripped the sign out of the ground and Chilli tackled him to the ground ABSOLUTELY CHANGED my brain chemistry y’all. I can’t articulate my feelings any more than that.

I know some people were upset that Brandy ended up getting pregnant but I thought it was great for her! I’m happy for her! And I think that even though she got what she wanted in the end doesn’t negate the feelings she had about her infertility earlier. But I think we’re all wondering who the father is and I don’t know if the show really needs to answer that.

The whole message of “we’ll see” in terms of if something is good or bad is such a mature message that I never really thought of like that so I will be taking that philosophy forward in life. Congratulations Bluey, you managed to teach a 22-year-old childless person something new and insightful about life that I don’t think I’ve learned from another show.

I want to know more about what Bob was going through and feeling and why he went to India, but again, we’ll probably never know.

I just love how the wedding photos were beautiful but imperfect. Like of course we’re not perfect and nothing will ever be perfect but it’s beautiful and worth remembering anyway.

So many little jokes and moments were so funny in a mature way (I.e. “are we allowed to do that?” And Nana thinking there was about to be a baby announcement) were just so funny and memorable.

I think some people would say it’s a cop-out to end up not selling the house after building it up for 2 episodes but I don’t know, I think it works. I think Bluey and Bingo learned a valuable lesson and Bandit (and Chilli kinda) learned it’s not always about making their kids lives “perfect” in their eyes. Also I’m just personally glad they didn’t end up selling the house and I also kinda like that it wasn’t entirely their choice to keep it.

On a more serious note I think this episode has some interesting commentary on like gender roles and gender relations in straight relationships. In this episode Chilli and Frisky (both women) have to deal with their male significant others pressuring them to move with them far away from what they know and love. In the end they don’t end up moving and the men didn’t seem to have like malicious or selfish intent with it, they were just kinda basing their choices off their jobs instead of what’s best emotionally for their loved ones. But I think it’s interesting to have this conflict where gender is kinda brought up in a way (“because your husband is making you”). It kinda plays into the traditional idea of like men are the breadwinners and the family has to move with them regardless of what they actually want. And this episode kinda like deconstructs that and says “no, it’s not always about the job or money, it’s also sometimes about connections and emotional attachment.” And I’m not saying that you should never move or whatever, but really weigh your options. I just thought that it was interesting that this episode kinda touched on that.

So yeah that’s kinda the main thoughts I had on this episode if you made it this far thank you for reading my rambles and have a good one!

[nezuscribe]

those summer months when your older brother and gojo satoru came back from uni were something you looked forward and also dreaded to every year. 

the moment your brother and him arrived meant that it was the start of three months of unforeseen events. it meant going up to the cabin with some of their friends and yours as you spent two weeks in the woods, passing time by catching up and doing anything to fill the hot hours of the day up. the summer nights were surrounded around a campfire, huddled around each other as you eyed the lake, wondering if now was the best time for a swim. 

these trips were fun, (exclude from the bits of drama that happened here and there), but a little part of you went along for something more than the experience.

him.

your friends giggled at the way your eyes hopelessly tracked his movements, turning to them as if they were schoolgirls and couldn’t learn to control their laughter and teasing. you told them it was okay to look, and that no harm could be done from simply admiring him from afar.

admiring the way his lanky body changed drastically the last three summers. how his scrawny build turned into lean muscle, his long body exuding a confidence he never had back when you three were younger. his hair was a bit longer and curled at the edges, but you liked it like that. his eyes shined even brighter than before. 

his smile changed too, you noticed. it was more laid back, but hid a bit more. not as carefree as it used to be, and you wondered if the parties and uni lifestyle changed him more than just appearance wise. 

but, you didn’t do anything about that crush (a pesky thing you’ve had to deal with ever since you were eleven), and just let it be, knowing nothing would come of it, seeing how gojo never looked at you as anything other than his best friends sister. 

dinners you didn’t talk much, seeing how most people had more interesting things that happened to them throughout the year, but bonfire was when you relaxed a bit, keeping to yourself as you laughed at peoples stories and jokes, bumping shoulders with your friends as they whispered stupid shit in your ear that made you throw your head back in laughter. 

but had it not been for something catching your attention you almost would have missed his stare.

looking up to see one of your brothers friends passing around some marshmallows to toast, your eyes caught his, your breath lodging in your throat at how piercing it was, noticing how the fire danced carefully along his graceful features. you felt like you did when you were a kid again, seeing him for the first time as he offered you a toothy grin. 

gojo didn’t smile or nod, anything to acknowledge why he was looking, but his brows furrowed just a tiny bit, his lips parting as he squinted, looking quickly away as though nothing happened. 

you shook your head, riding your thoughts of what just happened as you pretended to listen to a story somebody was telling, peeking over to gojo to see him looking away, almost forcefully, and you didn’t look again, not wanting to push anything that wasn’t there in the first place. 

but it kept happening it. 

not just stares, but fleeting touched when he passed by you, his arm grazing yours as your fingers inched towards each other as though gravitating with some unknown force. he’d catch your eye from across the living room, whisper something in your ear when you didn’t quite hear what he said the first time. 

his fingertips grazed your wrist when he passed you a plate that one time the two of you set up for dinner, and he gently gripped your waist to move you out of the way from an incoming football another night. 

he smiled more at you than anybody else, even when your joke was somewhat lame and didn’t laugh. something had changed since that one night, and the more it happened, the more you decided it wasn’t just you experiencing things.

so you cornered him one night; tired of the pitter pattering of your heart and how he muddled your thoughts with no explanation, the heat of his touched seared into your skin as you looked up at him through trembling lips, trying to keep your cool. 

“do you want something from me?” you sputtered out, not at all as gracefully as you planned it out in your head. the chatter from downstairs became a dull noise, and you were hoping nobody would pop out from the rooms surrounding the two of you, making this even more awkward and tense than it already was. 

“want?” he asked, tilting his ridiculously gorgeous head to the side in a teasing way, not picking up on how serious you were trying to be, “something from you?” he thought about it a bit, moving closer to your body with a languid step as you took one back to steady yourself. 

“yeah,” you bit out, your hands curling by your sides as you looked away from his heavy gaze for a second to recollect yourself, “do you want me to set you up with one of my friends? or, or tell my brother you didn’t do something when you actually did?”

his smile faltered for a bit, clearly not understanding what you were saying, and slowly coming to the realization that you weren’t joking and never were. 

“i don’t want you to set me up with anybody, nor do i want you to tell him anything i haven’t done...yet.” he muttered at the end, his striking eyes holding onto yours as you were now the one to be confused. 

“huh?” you murmured, feeling hot despite the tank top and fan running, your heart beating out of you chest and ass as he stepped forward again, his large presence taking up half of yours as he craned his neck to look at you. 

your back hit the wall, and it seemed that your breath was taken alongside with it. 

“you’ve changed since last year.” he finally said and you rolled your eyes, understanding now that he was just lost and confused. 

“well, yeah, obviously,” a part of you sunk upon the realization, looking away as you tried to mask your hurt with a roll of your eyes, “i got a new wardrobe and i changed my major. and i invested in this skincare stuff, so i really hope i have changed-” he cut you off, shaking his head as he huffed out a laugh at your obliviousness. 

“not that, you changed,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair as he moved an inch closer, your chests aligned at this point as your breathing became more shallow, “you...and i guess me a bit....” he trailed off, not able to find the right words as he groaned in frustration. 

“you...?” you tried to find the right words for him but couldn’t. not when he was looking at you like that. just like he did that one night. when everything seemed to change. 

his eyes fell from your lips and then back to you, and you shuddered, hoping you were hallucinating when he leaned down just a little bit. 

“d’you see what i mean?” he whispered, a breath away from you as your lashes fluttered against your check, looking up at him as you nodded slowly, your movements dulled down a bit by every emotion you could possibly feel pushing you closer towards him. 

“think i’m starting to,” you answer, leaning up just a little bit to close the space between your two body’s, the instant groan that feel from his lips fueling the dancing flames inside of you as you wrapped your arms around his neck, hoping that the air between you would be lost. 

it was hot, years of your feelings unknown to each other passing towards the messy kiss, your teeth clashing and spit lining your lips. it was everything you had dreamed of and more. he was passionate as he wrapped his sturdy hands across your waist, one hand moving up to cup the back of your head so that it wouldn't bang against the wall, and you whimpered against him as he tugged at your plush bottom lip, swollen form his rough attack just seconds earlier, and he grinned at the way your gloss shinned on your chin. 

your fingers found purchase in his soft curls, his thumb tracing the curve of your cheek as the two of you took a moment to stare at each other, coming to terms with what just happened. 

“listen, i think i’m-”

“satoru?” a voice cut him off, the two of you jumping at the third party as the man in front of you whipped his head around to see who it was, trying to shield your body with his, “shit, sorry...” your brother apologized, averting his gaze until he saw a familiar face, his brows contorting in something different as he looked at his best friend to you. 

a heavy minute past, and your chest was slightly heaving, still trying to come up with words and air to please your lungs as gojo’s hold on your tightened, trying to hide you from anything other than him as you brother rolled his eyes, muttering a quite “what the fuck” as he quickly made his way down the stairs. 

gojo looked at the stairs and then to you, not caring about the guilt in your eyes as he smiled boyishly, pecking the corner of your lips gently as his thumbs held your jaw with such care that you wanted to melt away and pretend nothing ever happened. 

“i’d rather he be mad that i kissed the girl of my dreams than never have kissed her at all.”

and you should go find your brother, talk to him and see what he wanted to say, but you stayed put, letting his thick thighs nudge yours apart as you came apart in his warm arms.

[moonselune]

Hi! Could I request Astarion, Gale, and Wyll with a reader who is typically well spoken until someone flirts with them? Not an overly dramatic reaction, but more like they start stuttering and blushing. I would like this to have some NSFW in it, but you absolutely do not have to. Thank you! And have a wonderful day!

NSFW | MDNI | I F!reader

This was an absolutely fantastic request thank you very much for blessing me with it also this is the first time I have written smut for the boys, I did assume f!reader but will in future try and make it more gn xx

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Gale:

The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm golden glow over the camp as you and Gale sat together by the fire. You enjoyed these moments of peace with him, the world falling away as you talked about everything and nothing. Your words flowed effortlessly, a natural charm evident in your every sentence.

That is, until a charming stranger wandered into your camp. The traveler was on their way to Baldur’s Gate and had stopped to ask for directions. Their conversation quickly turned friendly, and before you knew it, they were openly flirting with you.

“You have a certain… sparkle in your eyes,” the stranger said, leaning in a little too close. “Are you a sorcerer, or are you simply magical by nature?”

You felt your cheeks flush, your usual eloquence escaping you. “I, um, well… thank you. I… I’m not really—”

Gale, sitting beside you, watched with an amused glint in his eyes.

“Ah, I see,” he interjected smoothly, putting a comforting, yet possessive hand on your shoulder. “It seems my partner is a bit tongue-tied at the moment. Quite the rare sight, I assure you.”

The stranger chuckled, clearly enjoying your flustered state. “Well, I should be on my way,” they said, giving you a playful wink. “But do let me know if you ever need help with finding your words.”

"I wouldn't worry, kind saer, trust she has a most eloquent partner," Gale jabbed, dismissing the traveller with a wave of his hand. As the stranger departed, Gale turned to you, his amusement evident. “Tongue-tied, my dear? Now, that’s something I never thought I’d see.”

You sighed, still feeling the warmth in your cheeks. “I don’t know what happened. I just… couldn’t think of anything to say.”

Gale’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “It was quite adorable, really. But perhaps I should help you practice, so you’re never at a loss for words again.”

You raised an eyebrow, trying to regain some semblance of composure. “And how exactly do you propose to do that?”

Gale leaned in, his voice dropping to a seductive whisper. “By teaching you how to use your tongue properly, of course.”

Before you could respond, Gale’s lips were on yours, a gentle yet passionate kiss that left you breathless. He pulled back just enough to murmur, “Follow me.”

You let him lead you to the privacy of your tent, your heart racing with anticipation. Once inside, Gale’s demeanor shifted from teasing to serious, his eyes dark with desire.

“Let me show you,” he said, his hands deftly working to remove your clothes. His breath hot on your neck, his lips mere inches away from your skin. “How a well-practiced tongue can render one speechless.”

You shivered at his words, the anticipation building as he guided you to lie down. His kisses trailed down your body, each one sending sparks of pleasure through you. You let yourself become lost under his touch and when his lips finally reached your most sensitive spot, you gasped, your hands tangling in his hair.

The grip you held on him only encouraged his lesson further. Gale’s tongue moved with expert precision, teasing and tasting in ways that made you moan uncontrollably. “Gale… oh, gods… please…”

He looked up at you, your slick coating his lips, his eyes filled with a mix of affection and hunger. “Please what, my love? Use your words, remember what this lesson is about.”

You whimpered, trying to find the strength to speak. “Please… don’t stop. It feels so good…”

He smiled against your skin, his tongue working even more skillfully, humming into your core. “That’s better. But I think you can do even better than that.”

Your body arched towards him, the pleasure becoming almost unbearable, you tugged and pulled at his hair. “Gale, please… I need... I need to come, please,”

Gale’s eyes darkened with desire at your words and his actions became more forceful, as he groaned into the wet mess of your core, “As you wish, my most eloquent love.”

The world outside your tent disappeared, leaving only the two of you. Gale’s actions became slow and deliberate, drawing out the pleasure until you were on the edge of bliss. His tongue lacsadaisically entered your core, his nose nudging your clit, his beard soaked in your fluids. You felt your legs begin to tremble and Gale held onto them with a firm carress.

When you finally came, it was with a cry of his name, your body trembling with the force of your release. Gale lapped up every bit of it and rode you through your high. As you came down, Gale crawled up your body, settling between your legs, chin resting on your chest.

“Well, my love, it seems you’ve found your words again.” Gale chuckled softly.

You smiled, still breathless. “Yes, but only because of you.”

He pressed a gentle kiss to your chest. “And I will always be here to help you find them, most dutifully.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Astarion:

The evening air was cool and refreshing as you and Astarion strolled through the bustling market. Your hand intertwined with his, and the two of you enjoyed the serenity of being together. Despite the crowds, there was a certain peace in the chaos, a comfort in the presence of each other.

Your conversation flowed smoothly, filled with laughter and gentle teasing. You prided yourself on your eloquence, your ability to converse and charm effortlessly. That is, until the vendor—a strikingly handsome elf—began to flirt with you.

"You have an eye for beauty," the elf said, his gaze lingering on you a moment too long. "Perhaps I could help you find something as lovely as yourself?"

You felt your cheeks warm, your usual poise faltering. "I… um, well, I—"

Astarion’s grip on your hand tightened slightly, a smirk playing on his lips as he watched you struggle. "Oh, my love," he drawled, his voice dripping with amusement, "you seem to be at a loss for words."

The vendor raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by your sudden bashfulness. Astarion took a step closer to you, his presence a reassuring warmth against your side. "It's adorable, really," he continued, his tone teasing. "You’re usually so well-spoken."

The elf chuckled, clearly enjoying the scene. "I'm flattered," he said, his eyes still locked on you. "Perhaps we could continue this conversation later?"

Astarion's smirk widened, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "I think not," he said smoothly, pulling you closer. "My dear here has other plans."

As you walked away, Astarion’s amusement was palpable. "You do know how to put on a show," he said, his voice low and suggestive.

You sighed, trying to regain your composure. "It’s just… I don’t know why I got so flustered."

Astarion stopped and turned to you, his eyes dark with a predatory gleam. "Oh, I know exactly why," he murmured, leaning in to whisper in your ear. "You’re not used to being the one flustered. Usually, you’re the one making others blush."

His hand slipped around your waist, pulling you close as you walked into a secluded part of the alley.

"But I think I rather like seeing you like this," he purred, his lips brushing against your neck. "So vulnerable, so easy to tease."

You felt a shiver run down your spine as his hand trailed lower, slipping beneath the fabric of your clothes. "Astarion," you breathed, your voice shaky.

"Shh," he hushed you, his fingers expertly finding their way past your underwear and directly to your most sensitive spot. "Let's see how much I can make you squirm."

His touch was light at first, teasing and tantalizing. You bit your lip, trying to suppress a moan as he increased the pressure, his fingers moving with skilled precision. "Astarion, please," you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Please, what?" he asked, his tone mockingly innocent. "You’ll have to be more specific, darling."

You whimpered, your body arching into his touch. You were glad that the sun was setting and the market was beginning to close, you ddint need an audience to Astarion making a show of you. "Please, I need you."

He chuckled darkly, his fingers never stopping their tormenting rhythm. "Need me? How delightfully vague. Tell me exactly what you want."

Your mind was a haze of pleasure and desperation.."I want you inside me," you managed to gasp out. "Please, Astarion."

Astarion’s eyes flashed with triumph, his smirk widening. "As you wish," he said, his voice a low growl. With a swift, practiced motion, he positioned himself, his hard length pressing against your entrance. You were slick from his teasing fingers and it seems your predicament had had a similar effect on him, as his tip leaked with precum. It wouldn't be the first time you guys did it in an alley, and it most definitely would not be the last.

"Now, now I want to hear every sinful moan and word from you," he whispered, his voice thick with desire. "Just don't be too loud unless you want that dear merchant to come join us."

As he thrust into you, all coherent thought fled your mind. The world narrowed down to the feel of him inside you, the pleasure building with each movement. You clung to him, your nails digging into his back as he drove you both towards release.

In that moment, all your earlier embarrassment was forgotten, replaced by the overwhelming sensation of being completely and utterly consumed by Astarion. And as you choked out his name, you knew there was no place you’d rather be.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Wyll:

The evening was peaceful as you and Wyll sat together in the tavern, enjoying a quiet moment away from the chaos of adventuring. The flickering candlelight cast a warm glow on Wyll’s handsome features, and his deep, melodic voice filled the space between you as he recounted a tale from his past. You listened, entranced, your usual confidence shining through as you engaged in the conversation.

Then, a stranger approached your table. A charismatic bard with a roguish smile, they leaned in and addressed you. “Forgive my interruption, but I couldn’t help but notice your captivating presence from across the room. Would you honor me with your name?”

You felt a sudden rush of heat to your cheeks, your usual eloquence faltering. “I, um, well… thank you. My name is… uh…”

Wyll’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he watched you struggle. He leaned in, his hand gently squeezing yours under the table.

“This is my partner,” he said smoothly, his tone protective yet playful. “And I believe you’ve rendered them quite speechless.”

The bard chuckled, clearly entertained by your flustered state. “Speechless, indeed. A rare and beautiful sight.”

As the bard moved on, Wyll turned to you, his expression soft and affectionate. “I must say, I’ve never seen you quite so… tongue-tied before. It’s absolutely adorable.”

You sighed, still blushing furiously. “I don’t know what happened. I just couldn’t think of anything to say.”

Wyll’s grin widened, a teasing glint in his eyes. “I rather enjoyed it, to be honest. Seeing you so flustered… it makes me want to keep you all to myself.”

He stood, offering you his hand. “Come with me, love. Let’s find somewhere more private.”

You took his hand, following him to your shared room upstairs. As soon as the door closed behind you, Wyll’s demeanor shifted from playful to intensely passionate. He pulled you close, his hands caressing your face as he gazed into your eyes.

“You have no idea how much I adore you,” he murmured, his voice low and husky. “Every time you blush, every time you stutter… it drives me wild.”

You shivered at his words, feeling the heat of his desire. “Wyll…”

He silenced you with a kiss, his lips gentle yet demanding. His hands roamed over your body, worshipping every inch of you with reverent touches. “Let me show you,” he whispered against your skin, “just how much I love you.”

Wyll’s kisses trailed down your neck, each one leaving a burning trail of desire. He undressed you slowly, savoring the sight of your bare skin as if it were the most precious treasure.

“You are perfect,” he said, his voice filled with awe. “Every inch of you.”

You moaned softly as his lips found the sensitive parts of your body, his touch sending waves of pleasure through your body. “Wyll… please…”

He looked up at you, his eyes dark with lust and love. “Please what, my love? Tell me what you need. Use your most beautiful words.”

You blushed again, your earlier shyness returning. “I need you, Wyll... I need you to..”

"Love you? Adore you? Fuck you?" Wyll’s smile was tender and bashful as he positioned himself over you. “As you wish, my beloved.”

He entered you slowly, the sensation overwhelming. Wyll moved with a practiced grace, his every thrust drawing out your pleasure until you were both lost in the intensity of your love. His hands and lips continued to worship your body, nipping and carressing, making you feel cherished and adored with every touch.

When you both reached the peak of your pleasure, it was with cries of each other’s names, your bodies trembling in unison. Afterwards, Wyll held you close, his hands still gently caressing your skin.

“You are everything to me,” he whispered, his voice filled with emotion. “And I will always love you, just as you are.”

You snuggled into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his love surrounding you. “And I love you, Wyll. More than words can say.”

He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his arms tightening around you. “Then let’s stay like this, my love. Just you and me, forever.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Hope you guys enjoyed it !! - Seluney xox

[tallulah477]

Front Row Seat

Part 2 of Private Show

Kinktober Day 25: Caught Masterbating

Pairing: Lo'ak x Fem!Human!Reader

Warnings: AgedUp!Lo’ak, Masterbating, Caught masterbating, Mutual masterbation, Oral (female receiving), Cumming untouched (kinda . . . Lo’ak cums from the smallest of touches), Size Difference, Dom reader, Sub Lo’ak, Slight edging/orgasm delay, Lo’ak being so gone for reader it’s actually embarrassing, He’s such a simp and so in love, Obsessive behavior, Brief mention of panic / panic attack, One mention of dismemberment

A/N: Honestly, idk how this got so long lol

Word Count: 4.9K

Summary: Lo'ak's been avoiding you ever since the incident. But you're looking for him, and you want your own private show . . . with a front row seat.

Translations:

Tewng - Loincloth

Tsahìk - Spiritual Leader

Iknimaya - Na'vi Rite of Passage

Olo’eyktan - Clan Leader

Swoasey - Kava bowl (constructed from seed pods, used for drinking intoxicating beverages), handsized

Yawne - Beloved

Lo’ak feels like his heart is going to pound right out of his chest.

He can feel the panic setting in as he paces the length of the hut. He can’t believe that happened. How could he be so stupid? 

You saw him. 

You saw him - you know what he’s been doing. Know how he’s been creeping on you, watching you through your window at night when you’re supposed to be alone. Know that he’s seen you dance in your room, twirling around as the music moves through you, naked and carefree as the day you were born.

You know that he’s seen you touch yourself . . . and has touched himself to the sight in return.

His hands fly up to cover his face, the cool skin of his hands doing nothing to calm the fire blazing on his cheeks as he groans in distress.

Neteyam looks over at him from where he’s kneeling and carving some new arrows for his bow, hairless brows furrowed in worry. “Are you okay?”

Lo’ak groans again, muffled by the hard press of his palms before he rips his hands away. “No, bro. I’m not okay. I’m so far from okay,”

“What did you do?”

“Fucked up,” Lo’ak grunts and crosses his arms across his chest, just to do something with them. “I fucked up bad.”

Neteyam just continues to look at him, waiting for him to continue with a slight arch of his brow. 

“So, I watch y/n through her window at night sometimes . . .”

“Oh, Great Mother,”

“Shut up! I know,” Lo’ak snaps, hands flying back up to cover his face. “I know. But she caught me. She caught me, bro! What the fuck do I do?”

There’s a pause of silence before Neteyam bursts out laughing, earning a frustrated hiss from Lo’ak and two solid middle fingers.

“You’re not fucking helping,” Lo’ak growls.

“How am I supposed to help you?” Neteyam asks, still trying to stifle his mirth. “You’re fucked, brother. You messed up and now you’re going to have to reap the consequences of your actions.”

“She’s going to kill me! She’s already looking for me. I heard her asking Kiri if she knew where I was,”

Neteyam shrugs. “Just get it over with. Apologize to her. Maybe it won’t be as bad as you think,”

Lo’ak bites his lip, pressure building in his chest as he thinks of all the ways this could go so bad. 

What if you told Kiri what he did? Neteyam can laugh it off because he’s got his own little obsession going on with another Na’vi girl, so he understands the desperate need to constantly see her and be around her. Kiri, on the other hand - she’s a girl. She wouldn’t understand. She’d feel violated, angry at a fellow female being objectified and put in a compromising position. She’d never look at him the same way. 

Or what if you told his dad? Jake would be so upset with him. He would be even more of a disappointment to his father than he already is.

“Can you just,” Lo’ak grits out through clenched teeth. “Can you just help me?” 

“Maybe you can just say you were out for a walk and thought you heard something?” Neteyam tries, going back to his carving. “You just wanted to make sure everything was okay, right? No harm done. Sounds believable,”

“I was, uh- touching myself . . . when she caught me,”

“Yeah, but that window is higher up, right? So she only saw your face?”

Lo’ak grimaces, scratching the back of his neck uncomfortably. “Yeah, but– I left my tewng there though,”

Neteyam stops his carving and stares at Lo’ak, deadpan expression covering his face. “You can’t be helped,”

Lo’ak avoids you as best as he can, but it’s hard. 

You’re everywhere all of a sudden. Helping his grandmother in the Tsahìk’s tent, assisting the cooks with skinning and cutting the various meats and fruits for the communal last meal, even offering to watch Tuk a couple of times (which gave Lo’ak the scare of his life when he was about to enter his family’s tent only to hear your sweet voice giggle from inside it).

He’s trying his best to stay away, purposefully taking the long way around where he knows you’ll be just to avoid you seeing him. He avoids dinner a few times, feigning illness. And when he is at dinner, he makes sure to stay close to his family who he’s hopeful can act as a buffer between him and the knife you’re sure to use when you try to dismember him. 

But he can’t stay away for long. The constant need to be around you is too much. He needs to see you, to hear your beautiful voice and experience the way the world is just brighter, happier, better when you’re around. Before he was able to just exist in your presence, never really the center of your attention, but sometimes he was blessed enough to have your eyes locked on his for a few seconds, blunt teeth grinning up at him as your plump lips wrapped around the words ‘Hi, Lo’ak,”. 

And it was enough - enough interaction for him to be able to go back to his family’s hut, slide the privacy curtain shut in his alcove and shove his hand in his tewng, thinking about your pretty smile and your soft voice saying his name as he fists his cock like an animal. Your words, a never ending mantra of Hi, Lo’ak, echoing in his ears as he ruts into his hand faster, whining and moaning as he fucks his fist, his own whimpers of ‘fuck’ and ‘hi’ filling the alcove as he prays to Eywa that no one else is home to hear his shame. 

He can’t not be around you. He needs you, needs you like he needs air in his lungs to breathe. So, this whole avoiding you thing? It’s not working for him. He can’t go on like this - can’t keep creeping around his own village, hiding behind huts and trees, and trying to move stealthily among his fellow clan members in hopes that you won’t see him. He wants you to see him - wants your beautiful, shining eyes looking up at him. He wants to stare back into their depths as you tell him those three words he longs to hear, and have them actually be the meaning he hopes for and not just ‘I see you . . . looking at me through my window’.

He makes it about a week before things hit the fan. 

Tonight is night for celebration - three new members of the clan have been reborn, joining the rank of Warriors and becoming one of The People after successfully completing their iknimaya. The celebration is grand, music and dancing fill the center of the village as the clan celebrates the success of their young members. As the son of the Olo’eyktan and a fellow warrior himself, Lo’ak is required to attend. 

He knows you see him. He’s already impossible to miss, standing next to his father who is wearing his feathered, ceremonial attire - but for the first time that week, you’re not actively trying to get to him. Instead, it’s almost like you’re back in your room, by yourself, and unknowingly giving him a private dance just for him. 

Lo’ak watches you from across the fire as you dance in the flickering orange glow of the flames. Your small body moves in time with the beat of the song, hips swaying as you copy the movements of the Na’vi around you, and Lo’ak can’t help the way his heart pounds at the sight of you dancing to the traditional songs of his people. 

His mouth goes dry as the song turns you to the side and raises your arms up high over your head, granting him the sight of the entire length of your body all stretched out and on display. You're dressed in traditional Omatikaya clothes, the band of the tewng wrapped low around your hips, the extra length of the string dragging almost hypnotically across your thigh with each movement. Kiri must have helped you with the top, the beadwork into carefully draped feathering looks similar to hers, and the feathers fall perfectly over your just barely concealed breasts. 

Lo’ak’s eyes follow the tempting swell at the side of your chest, down the soft looking skin of your ribs and onto the seductive swing of your hips. And he wants. Wants so badly to kneel in front of you, grab your swaying hips in his big hands and drag you closer so he can feel the movement under his fingertips. But then your body turns to the other side and his eyes fall to the piece of fabric you have tucked under the band of your tewng. A very familiar piece of blue fabric - and a feeling of horror washes over him as he realizes you have his lost tewng nestled tightly against your hip. 

His eyes snap back to your face and he chokes on air when he finds you staring back, your own eyes, even hidden behind the glass of your mask, are intense and piercing in the flickering glow of the fire as you stare him down, never breaking your dance. Lo’ak shuffles back, accidentally bumping into Neteyam in his haste to get away from your unrelenting gaze, and Neteyam hisses as his swoasey is jostled, spilling a good bit of its contents on the ground and his feet. 

“What the fu–”

“Sorry! Shit, I’m–” Lo’ak stutters, eyes flickering between Neteyam’s irritated glare and your smirking figure. “Sorry, bro. I gotta go,”

He doesn’t give Neteyam a chance to answer before he’s turning and making a beeline for his family’s hut with his tail tucked between his legs. 

He makes it to the hut in record time, throwing open the thick front flaps and crossing the main living area with only a few long strides. He enters his alcove, scrubbing his hands over his face with a loud groan. Fuck! What is he supposed to do? You have his tewng - you were looking right at him, you wanted him to know you had it. He should be terrified, should be on his knees begging you for forgiveness, to have mercy on him and keep quiet about his transgressions and promise that he will leave you alone forever. 

But instead, his body feels hot, panic somehow ebbing away into desire. There has to be something wrong with his brain, this is not a normal reaction to the situation - but his body disagrees as he starts to harden in his tewng. 

You looked so beautiful dancing in front of the fire, like a goddess sent to him by Eywa herself. The way you looked in Na’vi clothing, the small, barely there traditional clothing of his people hanging onto your body like the worst kind of temptation. The band of the tewng hanging low on your hips, the curve of your ass peeking out from the back flap of material. That’s wrong, his brain says. Tewngs shouldn’t have a cover in the back like that. Traditional tewngs only have the front cover, so you should remove yours - if only to be correct in your Na’vi wear and bare your perfect ass for him to see instead of just the tease of it. 

He’s seen you in less, of course - but he’s never seen you bare so much skin purposefully before. His hands leave his face, balling into fists at his sides for a moment as he grinds his teeth together before he turns and snaps the privacy curtain shut to his alcove. His fingers work at the knots on his tewng, pulling it off and throwing it across the room as he lies down on his sleeping mat. 

Lo’ak’s hand slides down his stomach, breathing already labored as he wraps his hand around his cock. His eyes slip shut as he starts to stroke, visions of you immediately manifesting behind his dark lids. Images of you, on your knees, crawling towards him as he strokes himself - desire darkening your eyes as you watch him with hooded lids as you crawl closer. He whines as he watches you get closer and closer, focusing on your gorgeous face as you bite your lip, how the woven armband adorned with pretty purple beads hugs your bicep, and how your thighs and ass moves seductively with each forward movement just perfect enough to put him in a trance. 

The vision of you stops just in front of him, kneeling up and pulling his lost tewng from underneath your band. It must be so warm, having been pressed against your hip the entire celebration - warmed up with your body heat, pressed against your soft skin and covered in your scent. 

“This yours?” You say, slowly dragging the blue material across the top of your thighs, and Lo’ak moans, stroking himself faster as he watches you tease your skin with his tewng. 

You slide the material over your belly, letting it tickle your skin as you trail it up your ribs. “How many times have you cum in this very loincloth while thinking about me, hm?” You say, sliding the material higher until part of it disappears under the feathers of your top, nudging the bottom of your breast. “Lo’ak?” 

He groans, feet planting on the ground as his hips start to kick up, fucking into his fist. His breath catches in his throat when you drop his tewng and lean over him, arms on either side of his head, maskless face just inches away from his - lips just a breath away from his own. “Lo’ak,”

“Hah-y/n,” He moans, and he wants you to kiss him, wants this to be real so badly so you can kiss him. Just a little more . . . c'mon, just a little more.

“Lo’ak!”

His eyes snap open at the call, the very real call that’s coming from the entrance of his alcove and panic claws inside his throat at the sight of you just standing there, eyebrows raised in surprise, one hand still holding open the privacy curtain. 

It takes his brain a few seconds to catch up with reality, but when it does he hisses out a curse, scrambling into a seated position, hands desperately trying to cover himself despite the whole eyefull you’re also still recovering from. You recover faster than he does though, and you step into the room, letting the curtain fall closed again behind you.

“I brought you this,” You say, pulling the extra blue tewng from your hip and tossing it towards Lo’ak. He makes no attempt to catch it, hands still trying to cover his unaffected, throbbing erection, and the material flutters to the ground at his side. “You left it at the lab when you . . . you know.”

Your eyes rake over his naked form and your hands find a place on your hips. “You seemed like you were having a lot of fun. Who were you thinking about?”

The knowing tone of your voice makes the tips of Lo’ak’s ears burn as they press against his head. 

“You thinking about me, Lo’ak?”

The sound he lets out doesn’t have a meaning - just a short, stifled sound of embarrassment as he tries to force out something. Anything. But the only thing he can manage is a way to quiet and stuttered version of “S-sorry,”

You smirk at his apology, pretty lips curling into a wicked grin as you hum noncommittally. He watches with wide eyes as you saunter around his room, peeking in his personal areas as if you had a right to be there, before you turn and lean back against the wall in front of him.

“Don’t be sorry,” You say, arms crossing over your chest. “Be even,”

Lo’ak’s brows scrunch up, his ears flickering slightly in confusion. “W-what?”

“Be. Even.” You repeat. “You got a private show who knows how many times. Now I want one, with my own front row seat. It’s only fair,”

Lo’ak’s head is spinning. You can’t possibly be saying what he thinks you're saying. You want him to . . . touch himself? With you watching?

“What’s wrong, Lo?” You ask, your voice mocking as you pout at him. “You get off on watching, but not being watched?”

“I just– I-I don’t,”

“Hey,” You interrupt, expression switching from teasing to sincere in a second. “Just relax, okay? Just keep doing what you were doing. Show off for me a little,”

Lo’ak’s breathing is shaky as he steels himself, slowly lowering himself to lie back on the mat. One of his hands moves to uncover himself, balling into a nervous fist against his sternum. His other hand wraps around his cock again, long fingers encircling the thick, hard length as his eyes stay glued to your watching form. 

Your eyes watch hungrily as he gives himself an uncertain stroke, the pretty lavender tip of his cock disappearing under his fist before reappearing again as he holds himself at the base. Your back slides down the wall as you lower yourself to the floor, your legs crossed in front of you as you lean forward for a closer look. 

“Keep going,”

Your demand comes out firm, soft voice caressing his eardrums as the demand goes straight to his cock. His eyes stay locked on your face as he strokes himself again and again, a needy whine threatening to burst from his throat as he watches you watch him. He wishes you could get rid of the mask so he can see your face more clearly, but even slightly obstructed with the glass of the mask, he can see the desire written all over it. 

You desire him. You desire him? The knowledge takes the air from his lungs as he fists his cock faster. He pulls away for a moment so he can spit in his hand and he watches as your eyes follow the movement when he wraps his wet fingers around his cock again, smearing the wetness along the heated skin. 

“Yeah, baby. Get it all wet for me,” Your hands make their way to your top, fingers playing with the feathers there. “You want a little more motivation?”

Lo’ak’s hand pauses on his cock as he watches in awe as you push some of the feathers of your top to the side, perfect round breasts suddenly on display for his eager eyes. It’s a beautiful sight - the look of your perky tits framed by colorful feathers, a few rogue feathers hanging between the valley of your breasts. 

“Ah, ah,” You tisk. “I didn’t say stop.”

He gulps as he starts up his pace again, his fist twisting over the sensitive tip on each upstroke. His quiet moans and groans are like music to your ears, and you wish he would be louder so your human ears can pick up on them better. You want the sounds of his pleasure to fill up the room. You bet he would be so vocal if he would just let himself go.

“Don’t hide your noises,” You tell him. “They’re so pretty, Lo. Be louder for me. They make me so wet,” 

His responding whimper is significantly louder and more desperate as he watches you spread your thighs. You flip the front flap of your tewng over your thigh to keep it out of the way and pull the privacy cover to the side. Lo’ak’s mouth waters at the sight. You weren’t lying - you are wet. He can see the way your folds glisten even from across the small room. 

“Y/n,” He moans, and his cock throbs in his grip. 

“You like what you see, yawne?” 

The use of the Na’vi term of endearment makes his heart pound, and his stomach tightens as he feels the telltale signs of his orgasm approaching. Your fingers dip down into your wetness, sliding along your dripping slit before dipping inside and circling your clit. You’re so wet already that Lo’ak’s able to pick up on the squelching sounds your juices make, ears twitching as your fingers rub against the pulsing nub. Slowly, you run your fingers back down your slit, circling your entrance before pushing inside.

Lo’ak bites out a curse as the squelching sounds get louder, and he spits in his palm again to add it to the mess of precum on his cock just to make it extra wet so he can imagine it’s your pretty cunt he’s thrusting into and not his fist. His hips jerk, trying to fuck his hand faster, and the pressure in his belly is building and building, threatening to snap at any second as he watches you fuck yourself with your fingers, enraptured. 

“You close, Lo’ak?” You ask, breathy.

“Mhm,” He moans. “So close. Going to cum,”

At his admission, you pull your fingers out, curling a wet finger at him in a come-hither motion. “Nuh-uh, not yet. Come here,”

He whines at your words, his body mourning the loss of stimulation as he pauses his hand on his cock. He doesn’t want to let go, doesn’t want to stop, but can’t find it in himself to disobey your order. What if you make him stop completely? What if this was just a huge game of payback and you don’t let him cum at all?

You raise your eyebrow at his hesitance, voice low and seductive as you say, “Don’t you wanna taste me first?”

He should be embarrassed by how quickly he rips his hand away and scrambles onto his hands and knees as he gapes at you, desperate. “Please! Y/n, please,”

“Come here,” You say again, and this time, Lo’ak doesn’t hesitate. 

He crawls across the room and is in front of you in a second, and you stand up from the floor as he settles on his heels in front of you. In this position, the size difference is stark. Even sitting back on his heels, he still towers over you. His breathing is heavy as he stares down at you, amber eyes swallowed up by the bottomless pits of his pupils. 

“You can touch me,” You whisper, and he feels something snap inside him.

He leans down, pressing hot kisses against the side of your neck. You hum at the feeling of his lips on your skin. His warm tongue slides against your skin, savoring the taste of you on his taste buds as he licks across your collarbone and, oh, Great Mother, you taste so much better than he’d ever imagined. He breaks contact just for a moment to skip over the places that your top is still covering, mouth latching onto the top of your breast as he bites down lightly on the supple skin, canines digging into the round flesh as you gasp, and then soothing the marks with a gentle kiss. 

“Lo’ak,” You say, your small hand caressing his jaw and angling his face up towards yours. “That’s not where I meant.”

He groans, stealing a quick kiss at your nipple just to feel it before he hauls you up high against the wall. He has you spread out in front of him, one tip-toed foot planted on his thigh for balance while your other leg is thrown over his shoulder. His hands shake from where they’re gripping on to your thigh and calf, nervous excitement ripping through him as he breathes in the smell of your arousal. You look like a goddess above him, a creation so beautiful that sometimes he wonders if he’s actually crazy and he just made you up in his head. But you’re here, above him, spread out for him like the most mouthwatering feast - and he wants to devour you. 

One of your hands cradles the side of his head, sweeping the stray braids away from in front of his eyes, while the other adjusts your tewng and pulls the privacy cover to the side again. Immediately, he digs in - tongue lapping at your soaked folds like a man starved. You taste so sweet, like the most delicious treat, and Lo’ak’s eyes roll back into his head as he greedily gulps down your juices. His tongue flicks against your clit before he wraps his lips around the swollen bud, sucking harshly and returning your high pitched moans with a groan of his own.

“Yes, yes,” You cry. “Feels so good, Lo! So good,”

Your hand moves from the side of his face to fist into the loose braids at the back of his head, beads clanking together as you twist them around your fingers, holding his head against your core as if he would ever dare pull away. His cock throbs, needy and forgotten as it hangs between his thighs. He can feel how precum drips from its tip, beading up on the head before it becomes too much and runs down the underside of his cock. 

The hand on your calf wraps around his aching length instead, stroking quick and rough as he digs his face into your pussy. But all too soon you’re pulling his head away, grip firm on his braids as he’s reluctantly pulled away from your core, and he whines in dismay when you maneuver yourself back down to the floor.

“Relax,” You giggle, laughing at his forlorn expression. “I’ll give it back. Lie down,” You press your hand to his shoulder, guiding him to lay back on the floor as you kneel next to his head. “Keep being a good boy for me, okay?”

He nods frantically, eager to continue to please you. He’ll always be a good boy for you, the best boy. He’d do anything for you if you let him. 

His breathing hitches when you toss your leg over him, thighs straddling his head, puffy pussy just a breath away from his face. His hands grip the tops of your thighs, pressing you down on him as his mouth impatiently latches back onto your core. Your own hands press against his flat stomach, balancing yourself on his body as you gaze out at the long expanse of toned muscled before you. 

Lo’ak’s cock is hard and thick against his belly, precum oozing from the pretty lavender tip and into a puddle just below his belly button. You watch as it jumps occasionally, the line of precum connecting his cock to his stomach even as it lifts up slightly just to settle back down on his stomach. 

You lean forward more, arm reaching out with fingers outstretched and Lo’ak whimpers loudly against your pussy when your fingers make contact with his neglected cock, the vibrations sending shivers through your body as you moan in response. 

“You’re so big, Lo’ak,” You say, hips rocking on his face while your fingers trail lightly over the sticky, swollen head. It twitches against your fingers. “You’d stretch me out so good.”

He whines against your cunt, long fingers digging into the meat of your thighs as his feet plant themselves on the ground. His hips kick up, desperately trying to get more of your touch on his aching cock - but you stay teasing, just the brush of gentle fingertips as they trail up and down the heated length. 

His tongue works against you faster, more and more desperate the more your tiny fingers tease his cock. He can feel the build up of his orgasm rapidly approaching again, and he twists his hips frantically as he wordlessly pleads against your cunt for you to touch him properly. He wants your tiny hand to wrap around his cock like he’s always dreamed about, wants to feel how your fingers can’t even wrap around him completely because you're so small.

But you don’t - instead your fingers make their way back up to the head, rubbing firm circles against the sensitive frenulum, and Lo’ak’s entire body tenses as his orgasm rips through him, rope after rope of release shooting onto his stomach as he cries against your folds. 

You don’t give him anytime to recover, and he’s still shaking through the aftershocks when you hump faster against his face, using his mouth as your own personal toy as you chase after your own orgasm. Your back arches when it hits, thighs clamping down on either side of his head as you ride it out on his tongue, and he must have died at some point during this encounter - he must be dead, because the only way to describe how perfect this is, how amazing you taste when you cum - only this kind of euphoria can be found in whatever release of energy that Eywa promises at the end of life. 

When your orgasm is over, you slowly lift off of Lo’ak’s face and settle down next to him on the floor. He’s still shivering and shaking as you both lay there. He’s exhausted, but his eyes stay open despite how much they want to close and sleep now. He doesn’t want to lose a second of this. What if he falls asleep and this was all just a dream?

But then you look over at him, beautiful and fucked out looking in your afterglow, and a wicked grin stretches across your face. “That was fun. You should come visit me at the lab again. But this time, come through the door this time, yeah?”

**Special thanks to @pandoraslxna for the prompt!

Taglist: @eywaite @loaksulluyswife @erenjaegerwifee @f-cklife @chaoticfaelle @nilsavatar @fandomhoe101 @anastasia1777-blog @localjasmine @tsewtx

[magics-neptunes-things]

Camping Love

Hi guys :)

This one is based on this request, I hope everyone will like it :) First time writing for Lia, but she's like the sweetest girl ever, so enjoy :)

Resume : Your girlfriend take you camping in Switzerland.

TW : None.

______________________________________________________________

You were not surprised when Lia proposed to you to go camping. You know how much she loves being outside. She can pass hours picking up leaves in her garden, walking tirelessly in the forest and simply enjoy the fresh air whenever she has the opportunity. It's therefore no surprise to anyone that her choice of home was a small house set back from the city, close to nature. Even if it lengthens her journey to work every day.

You’re not a footballer, it’s actually Leah Williamson who played matchmaker between you two. After Lia's break-up, the blonde made the decision to present her the one she imagined perfect for her, not wishing that her friend suffers again. It just so happens that one of her childhood friends was back in town, single after a recent breakup. You.

Things with Lia took a little time to set up, both suspicious to open her heart to another person again. You must admit that you have longly tested the sincerity of the Swiss girl, but her unfailing patience and honesty have finally convinced you. Apart from all the other qualities that qualify her, obviously. Leah has already proclaimed herself the First Lady of your possible future marriage, and that amuses you very much. You know you owe her a lot.

"Should we settle here?" Lia suggests, looking around.

You do the same before nodding. You’ve been wandering around the Bernese mountains all day and the place you’re in is pretty good. There is no one around, a small lake to refresh yourself and the view is especially breathtaking.

You were never one to camp before meeting Lia, but she showed you that it could be more than just sleeping on the ground in a tent that can’t hold the cold. So you watch her build the tent with expertise, proud and surprised to discover her talents as an architect. She turns around and catches you looking at her butt, smiling at you.

"I did nothing" you justify while raising both hands.

"Exactly" she laughs gently before pointing at her backpack with a nod. "Get our stuff out please."

You smile maliciously and obey, taking out what she asks you. You also say her that you will write to Leah to inform her that you are still alive, the captain being convinced that you will be eaten by a bear.

"She's so dramatic. There are no bears here, only wolves."

"Huh?"

Eyes wide open, you raise your head towards Lia who bursts with laughter. You can’t tell if she’s laughing or not, but you don’t know if you really want to know.

"I’ll tell Leah to come get me."

Lia laughs again, but she managed to set up your tent in the meantime. You take care of inflating the mattresses and let her manage the rest, realizing your uselessness. But the Swiss captain doesn't seem to be bothered by this in the least, a smile never leaving her lips.

"A little bath now?"

You accept with pleasure, changing quickly to put on the swimsuit that your girlfriend advised you to take. The water is icy, but after walking all day it does make your leg muscles feel good. You do sports, but in a much less advanced way than Lia and you are therefore less accustomed than her to intense muscle fatigue.

The next game is to see which of the two gets the most wet and you can happily announce that you are the winner.

And the rock you slipped on has absolutely nothing to do with it.

"Are you ok?" asks Lia, smiling when you return to the tent.

You nod, without being able to mask your teeth that snap in spite of you. You are frozen. You don’t fool the beautiful eyes of Lia, who takes you against her to lay a kiss on your forehead.

"Go change, I’ll light a fire."

You accept happily, quickly getting rid of your wet swimsuit to put on clean and dry clothes. The outfit you opt for is not the sexiest, you come out with sneakers, a pair of jogging pants with the Swiss national team crest that you clearly stole from Lia and a hoodie. You also folded the hood on head to protect you from the cold.

When you reach Lia, the fire cracks lazily, the noise immediately bringing a comforting side. The heat that emanates too. You sit next to it, letting your girlfriend go change too. Even if you grumble a little for form, you really appreciate the place in which you find yourself. And being able to have Lia just for you for a few days suits you very well. You went to her family before coming camping and there are other people to see after. Fortunately, each member of her family seems to accept with open arms.

"Hello you" you whisper softly when she comes back to you, passing your arm around her waist.

"Why do I feel like I know this pants?" Lia say with an amused smile, stroking the patch with her fingertips.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about."

Lia laughs softly and it makes you smile. A look is exchanged between you two, who do not need to utter a word. You just hold her tight, let her put her head on your shoulder. You both get lost in your thoughts, watching the sun disappear behind the mountain in front of you.

"Are you still cold?" Lia gently asks after a few minutes.

Instead of answering, you slip your icy fingers under her clothes with an evil smile. The good news is that the cry that escapes from Lia’s lips has undoubtedly helped to scare away all the wildlife around you. The bad news is you were tortured to tickles for long minutes after that.

********

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lia.walti Happy life with Schatzi ♥ @Y/NInstagram

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alessiarusso I'm freezing just looking at this picture

Y/NInstagram Ich liebe dich 🤍🤍🤍

↳ lia.walti Glad to see my lessons begin to serve

↳ Y/Instagram I have a very persuasive teacher ;)

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leahwilliamsonn OMG are you both alive?

↳ Y/NInstagram Yes it's quite nice actually :) (Send help please Leah, she's trying to murder me)

↳ lia.walti Watch out.

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Things Learned and Unlearned Ch. 15

Series Summary: Y/N has spent her life trying to outrun her mother's reputation. When she meets the rich and successful playboy, Dean Winchester, how quickly can he get her to stop running?

Pairings/Characters: Dean Winchester x Y/N, Sam Winchester, Jessica Winchester, Lucy Winchester (OC)

Warnings: Each chapter will have it's own warnings, but there will be smut, seduction, virgin!reader, playboy!dean, Edwardian era BS attitudes surrounding sex and women. (Technically it's set in 1900 and the Edwardian era started in 1901, but you get it.) Angst, Fluff, all the good stuff that regularly pops up in my series. 😁

Chapter Warnings: None. Just angst and fluff.

Word Count: 3,343

A/N: So, here it is - Chapter 15, and the end of this series. I've been so grateful for all the wonderful reblogs and encouraging comments this fic has received as it's gone along week by week. Your support is the reason why it's finally completed.

It began life as just a few chapters from an orphaned fic of mine over on ff.net and now it's a fully completed Dean fic that I'm very proud of. 😊 So thanks again, and I hope you enjoy the end of this story, and feel it was worth the investment of your time. ❤️

Series Master List || Main Master List || Tag Lists

Four weeks later. January 1901.

Dean sat down heavily behind his mahogany desk and picked up his morning mail before immediately throwing it back down in annoyance. 

It will just be invitations and invoices, Dean thought, who cares?

He leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes and digging his fingers into them. He was hungover and had barely slept. He felt like he'd been hit with a brick building.

With a deep sigh, he opened the file in front of him and ran his hand over the top page. It was his copy of the deal that he’d finally signed a week ago.

Two weeks ago, George Taskett had called his secretary to arrange a meeting. When Dean showed up at the appointed time, George apologized profusely for what had happened at the theater.

“It’s taken me a little while to reach out to you because I wanted to be able to tell you that Byron Temple had been fired, and before I could do that, I needed to speak to the board about it first. But I can assure you now that he has been permanently removed from his position, and fired from our company. It seems that the board shared my concerns with his lack of moral character.”

George had told Dean that when they investigated a little bit, they’d discovered that the incident at The Manhattan hadn't been the first such incident for Temple. Dean was not surprised, and he was glad that the board of Northern Freight had been all too happy to show him the door.

So with Temple out of the picture, the deal had gone through as originally planned and all three companies were now set to make a lot of money. Winchester Shipping and Lumber was in the best shape it had ever been in.

But he still couldn't sleep at night.

As he tucked the file away, he heard a knock at the door and then Grant's voice when he opened it. Dean couldn't make out what he was saying to the visitor, but if it was anything other than, “come back another day”, Dean might have to fire him.

A minute later, however, Grant was in his doorway to announce his guest. But Dean didn't need the announcement, as he saw his baby brother's towering frame standing behind his butler.

Dean stood up with a frown, walking out from behind his desk as Grant left, and Sam entered his study. “What's wrong?” He asked without preamble.

Sam shook his head. “Nothing's wrong.”

Dean's scowl got deeper. “What do you mean ‘nothing’s wrong’? Then what are you doing here?”

Sam shrugged. “Just wanted to visit my brother.”

Dean crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back against his desk and fixing Sam with a look as he took a seat on one of the leather chairs across from Dean.

“You just wanted to visit?” Dean asked, his voice incredulous. “You thought you'd take a six hour train ride to just…drop in and say hi?”

“Sure.”

“Sam.”

“I just wanted to see how you're doing. See if you're alright.” Sam said innocently.

“Why wouldn't I be?”

Sam sighed. “Cause Y/N isn't.”

Dean's heart beat double time as he scowled again at his little brother. “Sam, honest to god…” He ran a hand through his hair. “This better not be the real reason you're here.”

“It is.” Sam said calmly.

“Well, then I'm sorry you wasted your money on a train ticket, along with six hours of your life.” He held up a finger. “No, twelve, actually, cause you're gonna leave now.”

Sam just continued to stare at him, annoying him profusely. Finally his little brother had the audacity to shake his head and scold him.

“Dean, why did you let her go? I saw you with her, saw you at Christmas. I know you love her.”

“Bullshit!” Dean barked at him, angrily. “You are imagining things, Sam, and I'm not interested in dredging up this same asinine conversation I already had with your wife.”

Sam nodded. “Yeah, she told me about it. Just made us even more sure that you were completely in love with Y/N. What we couldn't figure out is why you were so furious about the very idea of loving her.”

“Dammit Sam, drop this!” Dean shouted at him as he straightened up from the desk. 

Sam pointed at him. “Yeah, furious like that.” He shrugged. “But then…I think I figured it out “

"Oh, did you?" Dean asked with a death stare, feeling the panic start to rise up in him.

Sam's voice softened as he looked Dean in the eye. “You're afraid you'll end up like Dad.” 

Dean clenched his jaw and refused to respond.

But eventually Sam just shook his head. “You won't though.”

Fear and panic sat thick in Dean's throat, clogging his voice as he spoke. “You don't know that.”

Sam scoffed. “Yeah, I do.”

Silence reigned for a moment before Dean shuffled back and sat down behind his desk again. His head was pounding harder than ever.

He watched Sam for a while before he shook his head. “You don't remember him the way - I mean, obviously you couldn't remember him how he was. Before. But…” 

He scrubbed an exhausted hand down his face. “I remember. The way he was. I remember him laughing and smiling. The way he'd pick me up when he walked back in the door at the end of the day, ride me around on his shoulders…I remember all of it. And I remember when it was gone. He was like a completely different man. He might as well have died with her, cause he was gone and he never came back.”

Dean closed his eyes. “So, I swore to myself, I swore,” he emphasized, “that I would never do the same. I would NEVER love someone like that and then lose myself completely when they were gone.” 

He shook his head again and opened his eyes to pin Sam with another glare. “I just won't do it.”

Sam sat, quietly nodding for a moment before his brow wrinkled in thought. “Hmm…” He took a deep breath and spoke as he exhaled.

“Do you love me?”

Dean stared at him for a heartbeat before a red flush began climbing up his neck as he answered in a growl. “What are you talking about?”

But Sam just waved away his brother's words. “Nevermind, I already know you do. You love me a lot.”

Dean continued to glare at his annoying little brother, not sure what to even say to that.

“And I know you love Jess and Lucy too. Also a lot.”

“What is your point Sam?” He barked at him, although he thought he'd started to figure it out.

“I know this too, though.” Sam continued without answering him, “If anything ever happened to me or…Jess, or…” He didn't seem able to finish the horrible idea, and Dean felt his stomach churn and his chest ache at the mere thought. 

But Sam pushed on. “If something ever happened, you'd never abandon the ones left behind. You'd never leave us on our own.”

Dean bit his bottom lip, feeling his throat ache from his trapped feelings. 

“Oh yeah?” He asked doubtfully. “And how could you possibly be sure of that?” He smiled without humor. “I am my father's son, after all.”

Sam shrugged. “That may be, but you're also just Dean, my big brother. And he's the most selfless man I've ever known.”

Dean scoffed, but Sam continued over him. 

“You've never put yourself first. Not while you were raising me. Not when you went toe-to-toe with Dad for me, so I could go to law school. Not when you worked a second job outside the business, so that you could pay my whole tuition when Dad refused to pay for it with ‘company money’ as he called it.”

Dean couldn't look at Sam any longer, dipping his head to stare at the wood grain in his desk as his brother continued to heap undeserving praise on him.

“And ever since you took over the company, you've always put your employees first, you take care of them, you work twice as hard as you need to, and pay them a lot more than other companies do, to make sure they can live good, happy lives. I've seen your books, I know it's true.”

“So?” Dean cut into Sam's diatribe, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. “Even if all of this praise was true, which it isn't, none of it proves that loving and losing someone wouldn't change all of that. Dad was a good man too, until he loved a woman and lost a woman.”

Sam tightened his jaw. “Maybe he was, but he was also a selfish bastard for abandoning us, for just going off to live alone with his grief and anger. You weren't even five years old, and you'd just lost your mother!” Sam huffed angrily. “He should have cared about that too. He should have cared about you, about us...not just the wife he lost.”

Dean's instinct was to defend their father, but he didn't. He'd begun to see that Sam was right; it had been pretty selfish.

“And I'm telling you,” Sam said with conviction, “if you and Y/N were lucky enough to be blessed with children, you would NEVER abandon them for any reason. Not ever. Because you. are not. our father.” 

Dean heard his little brother's words, and the freedom he found in them, surprised him. It felt like he could breathe deeply for the first time in a very long time. He felt a tear escape and he dashed it away quickly, turning his chair away from Sam and staring at the wall. 

After a moment of quiet, Sam spoke solemnly. "But none of this speculating about how you'd act IF you fell in love with Y/N really matters anyway. Because the plain and simple fact is, you're already in love with her.”

The words still made Dean's stomach clench, and he turned back to Sam and shook his head. “No, I refused, I wouldn't let myself love her.”

Sam rolled his eyes and breathed out harshly. “Damn! You really are a monumental idiot.”

Dean scowled at him, unimpressed with his opinion.

“Dean, you can't stop yourself from loving someone. You can't just control something like that.”

Dean felt the old, familiar panic start to rise in his chest. If he couldn't control it...if he really did love her already…then he'd already lost, and he'd never be free of her hold on him.

I don't wanna be free.

The intrusive thought leaked into his mind and he closed his eyes, trying desperately to deny it but-

“She's leaving.”

Dean's eyes popped open to stare at Sam. 

“What do you mean?” He asked quietly.

“She gave us her notice. She's leaving. Catching a train in a couple of days. That's why I came to shake some sense into you before it's too late. She's going west, says she wants to seek some adventure, but I know it's really because we're all just a constant reminder of you. She's been miserable this whole last month - trying very hard to hide it - but miserable.”

Dean felt a different kind of panic rising as he contemplated Y/N being on the other side of the country, living her life a million miles from his.

She'd get married to someone else - someone who didn't become paralyzed with fear at the thought of needing her in his life. He'd win her over, he'd make her smile, make her happy. He'd give her children; he'd be the damn compatible husband she'd always wanted, and give her the little cottage and respectable life she deserved. 

The exact life he'd told her to go and live just before he made love to her and then snuck out of the room before she woke, like a coward.

He looked at his little brother, desperate now for his help. “Shit. I walked away from her Sam. I left her a goddamn note cause I was too much of a coward to say goodbye to her face. Cause I knew if I spent another minute with her, I'd be so tempted to do anything she wanted, say anything she wanted, just to get her to stay. And I couldn't risk it.”

Sam gave him a scolding look and just shook his head.

Dean's voice was slightly forlorn. “What are the chances she forgives me for that?”

Sam shrugged. “Won't know till you try, coward.”

***

Y/N clutched the handle of her leather bag tightly, gripping it over and over, wearing it smooth from sheer worry. She recognized that traveling alone, to some remote California town she'd never been to was ludicrous and dangerous. But she just couldn't take it another day; she needed to get as far away as she could. 

Living with Sam and Jessica everyday, watching them in their happy, loving marriage, was simply more than she could handle. The fact that occasionally, when Sam smiled or frowned or laughed a certain way, a tiny piece of his big brother would appear on his face, well, that was just the knife in her heart that made leaving quickly a necessity.

So, here she was, on a bench on the train platform, waiting for a train to roll in and carry her away from endless reminders of Dean. But even just sitting on the bench reminded her that she'd first met him while she was sitting on a bench - on that cool day last fall, when he'd burned his way into her life, into her heart and then into her bed. Unfortunately, he'd also burrowed his way into her soul, and she knew he'd never leave.

Even now she imagined that she heard him calling her name over the screaming whistle of the steam engine that was pulling up beside her; it was the train that would take her away from everything she wanted to leave behind. Though she knew she'd never manage it completely.

Y/N frowned slightly as she looked up; she thought she heard his voice again. Was she truly going mad?

But then she saw him, running through the steam on the platform, coming towards her. She jumped up, completely confused, but somehow feeling like she needed to be on her feet.

“Dean?” She asked as he reached her. “Why are you…? What-”

Dean interrupted her. “Don't get on that train. Don't go. I have a proposition for you instead.”

Y/N felt her heart plummet. “Dean-”

“Marry me.”

Her words died in her throat and she just stared at him, her eyes bulging as she tried to work out what was going on.

“Oh,” she said almost sadly, “I've actually gone completely mad now.”

But Dean was shaking his head. “No, sweetheart, I was the crazy one. I was the one who thought I could simply wish away, or will away loving you, but I should have known it was never gonna work.”

Y/N returned to being simply speechless, eyes wide and staring once again, as Dean continued, his voice sincere and ardent.

“Sweetheart, I'm so sorry I didn't stick around to say goodbye. Hell, I'm sorry I even tried to say goodbye in the first place. I'm sorry I was too much of a coward to let myself love you, or admit to it anyway. Seems like I didn't really have much say in the matter. Apparently trying desperately to not love someone, doesn't actually stop you from loving them. Who knew?" He said with a lopsided smile and a shrug.

Still smiling, he took another step towards her and his voice was strong and sure. "But I'm mostly sorry that I didn't wrap my arms around you the very first time I saw you, and absolutely refuse to let you go.”

“That's actually kidnapping!”

Y/N whipped around to see Sam and Jessica standing behind her on the platform with Lucy between them. Jessica slapped Sam's arm for his sarcastic comment. 

“Shush. He's trying.” She waved at Dean and called to him. “You're doing great, champ! Keep going!” 

“Give her the ring, Uncle Dean. Ladies like rings!” Lucy shouted.

Y/N started crying and laughing in the same breath, and nearly choked. But as Dean nodded at his niece and got down on one knee, tears won out and she started crying noisily.

He gazed up at her with a soft smile and slightly glassy eyes. “I wasn't planning to do this with an audience, and I have a lot to explain to you, I know, about why I was such an idiot and how stupid I was to be afraid of loving you.”

“Quit reminding her she'll be marrying a moron!” Sam called out again, and Y/N heard Jessica smack him again. But she couldn't take her eyes off of the massive ring that sat in the velvet box Dean opened and presented to her.

It was a Tiffany's box, she noticed, and inside was a beautiful diamond ring, with a small round emerald in the very center.

“I love you so much, Y/N, and I know I don't deserve you, but please say yes anyway.”

“Yes!” She shouted, taking the box from him and then throwing her arms around his neck, letting him stand up and twirl her around, laughing with him through her tears.

Everyone on the platform clapped happily, as Dean kissed her. 

Sam covered Lucy's eyes but she pushed his hand away, clapping loudly at the little fairytale that had played out for her.

As Dean pulled back, he slipped the ring onto her finger and ran his thumb over her knuckles, before raising her hand to his mouth and kissing the back of it, just like he did the very first day they'd met. It still had the power to make her stomach flutter.

“Do you like it?” He asked, touching the emerald in the center of her ring.

Remembering her prediction that emeralds would always make her cry, brought on even more of those predictable tears. She was happy beyond measure that she'd been both right and wrong about that.

“Yes, I love it.” She said as she kissed him sweetly and then gazed into his bright green eyes. “And I love you, Dean. So much.”

“Thank God. Just...just don't stop. Please?”

Y/N nodded. "Promise." She whispered.

Dean sighed against her lips before claiming them once again.

***

The St. Louis World's Fair. Spring 1904. 

“Lucy Winchester! You've had more than enough of that spun sugar now, come back over here and hold your brother's hand.”

Jessica ran after her six year old with her two year old in tow, until Sam grabbed him up and settled him against his chest. With her hands now free, Jessica grabbed a protesting Lucy away from the cotton candy cart.

Y/N laughed at her former student's frustrated little face and decided to try and help her sister-in-law out. “Luce come here; your cousin needs your help.”

Jessica let go of Lucy's hand so she could run back to her aunt and uncle. Y/N and Dean walked behind them a little ways, with their one year old, Melody, toddling somewhat unsteadily between them.

Y/N let Lucy take Melody's hand. “She loves walking with you and you're so good at showing her just how a real lady walks.”

Lucy beamed proudly as she immediately slowed her pace to allow Melody to keep up, and then walked very sedately to help her little cousin learn how to be a lady.

Jessica smiled brightly over her shoulder and mouthed, thank you to Y/N who laughed lightly. Dean reached over and took her hand now that it was free, swinging it gently back and forth.

Suddenly Y/N remembered Christmas day three years ago and how she'd imagined going to the World's Fair, and walking hand in hand just like this.

There were no cherry trees beside them and the crowds were fairly thick on the pathways around the fair, which meant they were jostled around a bit more than she'd imagined in her idyllic fantasy.

But the feelings she'd imagined back then were exactly the same. Family. Love. Belonging. She stepped closer to Dean and rested her head on his shoulder, squeezing his hand tighter.

He kissed the crown of her head and then whispered to her. “Happy, sweetheart?”

She looked up at him and gave him a mischievous smile. “Happier if you'd kiss me.” 

He pretended to be scandalized. “Mrs. Winchester? In public? In full view of the children?”

Y/N laughed happily, making her in laws look back at them and smile.

Dean leaned down and kissed the tip of her nose. “That's all my strict moral fiber will allow for.” He said in pretentious tones.

Y/N pouted at him playfully and he dipped his head to whisper against the shell of her ear, making her shiver.

“But Mel is sleeping in her cousins’ room with the nanny tonight. So later, in the privacy of our hotel room, I plan on kissing every writhing, shaking inch of your body until you -”

“Auntie!” Y/N was yanked back to reality as Lucy called to her, excitedly. “Melody said my name!”

Trying to ignore the raging fire her husband had kindled within her, Y/N smiled down at Lucy. 

“Well, I'm not surprised. She loves her big cousin.”

Lucy smiled widely before she dropped Melody's hand to run up and tell her parents her good news. Melody started to fuss over her cousin leaving, until Dean scooped her up to sit on his shoulders; then she squealed happily, thrilled to be up so high.

Y/N just watched Dean for a moment, her eyes watering slightly as she thought about how heartbroken she'd been on that Christmas day so long ago, when she'd believed this life was forever beyond her reach.

Dean looked down at her and she picked up his hand again, pressing close to him.

“I love you, you know.”

His beautiful green eyes were warm and overflowing with happiness as he bent his head slightly, holding Melody tightly so she didn't slip, and kissed Y/N senseless. Despite his earlier moral protestations, his kiss was slow and deep and it stole all the air from her lungs.

He pulled back from her and the look of love in his eyes stole her breath all over again as he answered.

"I love you too, sweetheart." He kissed her forehead and spoke softly, for her ears only. "Thanks for teaching me how."

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters:

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Dean Fics Only:

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[luffysscraps]

YANDERE MONKEY D. LUFFY; HEADCANONS

Cw; Yandere.fem reader.Manipulation.Gaslighting.Enabling crew.Stockholm syndrome. Not proofread.

You’ll never know until your caught; He reels you in with his smile, his playfulness, his curiosity. All of his jokes make you laugh! He’s so kind and nice to you. He’s always thinking about you! He shows you every little thing he picks up and stuff from his adventures! Speaking of which you should come with him! Life at sea is great! Plus there’s no telling whether he’ll ever come back to this island again. So join his crew! You don’t need to feel like you have to contribute anything! Just do what you can and you’ll be a true straw hat! He gives you a few days to think it over and like every member before you, you fall for his romanticized version of the sea and set sail as the newest member of the straw hats.

“Gotcha~ ;P”

He’s got you right where he wants you; You’ll soon see the dangers of the sea a month into the vogue. Sea kings, other pirates, marines, scurvy. Almost every day you’re fighting for your right to breath! A bounty on your head for just being spotted with the straw hats. You’re in over your head! You’re not much of a fighter! You’re going to die if you stay here any longer! You’ve got to get out of here! You take it up with Luffy and he simply crosses his arms and smiles at you. “Leave? If it’s what you want, I won’t stop you! We’ll be at the next island in three days. It was a pleasure being your captain and I’ll never forget you.” He gives you a hearty smile as a send off. You’re relieved he’s being so nice about it.

He knows you can’t leave, well alive that is; marines flooded the next island. They got an anonymous tip that the straw hats would be porting in the next week and jumped at the opportunity. You’re captured and almost executed if it wasn’t for Luffy saving you at the last moment. Your traumatized, hugging onto his red vest and crying into his chest. So much fire, so much gun shots, so much blood shed… Luffy simply rubs the back of your head and smiles. “Don’t worry bout it… with me here no one will harm you.” You cry even louder and won’t let go of him for the world. How could you ever think about leaving him?

He knows your weak and uses that to his advantage; “Stick by me okay? I don’t want you to get hurt.” You nod, taking his hand easily. The fear of what if lurks down the corner and fills your body. Ever since you were captured you don’t feel safe without Luffy around. The rest of the crew try to get you to feel more comfortable but nothing works. When Zoro suggests you train with him to hold your own, Luffy just glares at his green haired friend and talks to him behind closed doors. “I don’t want her to get hurt. Don’t worry about her I’ll be here to protect her.” Or when Usopp offers to build you a weapon, Luffy shuts him down as well. The crew is beyond confused on why Luffy’s apposed to this… but he is the captain so what can you do? The crew watches on in concern as you grip Luffy tightly and the male laughs and teases you about how he’ll always be there for you.

Expect when he’s not. It’s not a coincidence or mistake. He planned this; “L-Luffy!? L-Luffy!” Your voice strained out as you walk around the ship looking for him. Did he fall in the water?! Did we leave him at the last island?! Did he leave you?! Your panicking and hyperventilating as you can’t find Luffy anywhere. The crew tries to reassure you that he’s alright but you curl up into a ball and begin to sob in despair. You don’t feel safe anymore without him near. He’s missing for around three days until he randomly appears like nothing happened to him. “Yeah I fell asleep on lookout duty, that last fight messed me up more then I thought! I was right there in the tower!” He makes up a silly story. You’re squeezing him tightly, crying and yelling about how you’ll never let him go. And all he could do is smile and hug you back. He’ll never let you go.

He can’t control himself when others talk about his behavior or you; They’re not blind. You’re attached to Luffy 24/7 and it’s not healthy. They think he doesn’t understand you’re not well, that he just thinks you want to play or cuddle with him all the time, but he’s well aware of you not being well. “Yeah so what? If it’s what she wants, what’s the problem?” “Luffy she won’t even eat if you’re not present! She can’t function without you around! We tried to get her to go get treated with Chopper but she won’t leave without you!” Nami tried to reason with her captain, she couldn’t go on any longer watching her friend turn into a husk of herself. Luffy’s eyes glare at Nami holding your hand close to his face. “There’s no need for Chopper to treat her. I like her this way~” He said with a sharp smirk the crew had never seen before. Just what’s gotten into him?

You slowly become Luffy’s lap dog, never seen a second away from him, always by his side; Hey at least it’s fun. He’s not as heartless as some others. You can drink, laugh, party, dance, you can do whatever you want as long as you’re next to him. It’s like the two of you are attached by the hip and it’s honestly creepy for the crew to witness. He’s always playing with you, tickling you, telling you stories and jokes. There isn’t a second you two are separated and it’s jarring whenever you two are. You seem hollow and distant without Luffy near and Luffy’s… off. There’s something about him that changes when you’re not around but no one can put a finger on it.

He didn’t think he’d ever hurt one of his crew… until; That pesky little Robin stuck her nose into a place where it didn’t belong. The captain’s quarters. The first thing that set her off were the walls, they were covered in crude drawings of you and Luffy. And tons of your wanted posters scattered the walls as well. Her mouth hung open in disbelief, her instincts telling her to leave but she couldn’t help but look through more. On his desk was a diary of some sorts, and plastered through the pages were just your name written down over and over again, frantic heart doodles, scribbles and ramblings of a mad man going on and on about you. It then clicked in her mind, No one had actually entered the captain’s room since you joined the crew… and as she turned around to finally leave she felt nothing but a rubbery punch to her stomach sending her flying back into the wall. “I thought I told everyone… the captain’s room is off limits.”

Then he flat out tells everyone, without sugarcoating it; “Y/N’s mine! I was the one who called in and told the marines about us docking so Y/N can get captured! Oh yeah and I did a bunch of other things to her too :p . I made her this way and we’re both happy about it!… if anyone else ISN’T happy about it, well. We’re pretty far out in the water. I dunno if anyone will find your body~!” Luffy let’s out one of his contagious laughs but nothing is funny. The crew is staring at him in horror. Robin clutches her broken ribs with wide, teary, eyes. Everyone had their mouth agape, in utter shock. They all knew something was wrong but never in a million years would they have thought Luffy was capable of doing this. To someone he claimed to love. You heard his words but didn’t react. You didn’t care anymore, Luffy knew best. You hugged him closely, putting your head into his chest, accepting your fate. “See? She likes it! Now anyone opposed to this?”

Well of course everyone’s opposed to it; But… what can you do… It’s Luffy. His power is too great, he’s nothing less then a god. Any attempts to help you escape or fight him off are shot down in seconds. Luffy has no remorse when he’s beating Sanji’s body blue because he thought it would be a good idea to try and help you sneak away on an island they were docked in. “Sanji… you’re a really good cook, and I don’ wanna loose you but if you want to come between us I’ll have no choice. So will you be nice and stop trying to take her away from me? :D?!” He asks him with a large smile, despite the blood running down his knuckles and the blonde underneath him that was slowly drifting in and out of consciousness.

The crew suddenly start getting injuries. Robin’s ribs, Nami’s throat, Usopp’s arm, Sanji’s leg, Chopper’s antlers, Zoro’s ear, Franky’s backside. Every pirate crew they come across is confused to see why the great straw hats are injuried so badly, all expect you of course. No longer do they smile in the face of their captain, instead they shake with fear. They soon stop trying to escape and fight, instead they all give in and comply with their captain’s orders.

So join his pirate crew, come live at sea with him! It’ll be fun! And once he haves you, he’ll never let you go~

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Push the Sky Away - Part One

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x original female character (Lorra Stark) Chapter warnings: Angst. Canon typical violence. Mention of loss of virginity. Smut. Word count: ~6.5k

Summary: We are getting to know Aemond in this chapter. Some scene setting and world building, not much to be found of our OC until she is introduced towards the end. Laying the groundwork for what's to come later. Series masterlist.

Author's note: For @sapphirehearteyes. I don't have a tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

Fire and Blood, the infamous words of House Targaryen. It is a phrase that both haunts and eludes Aemond Targaryen from an early age, with its promise of greatness and constant reminder of all he will never be. 

The Targaryen name is the only thing of any value that Viserys has ever bestowed upon his sons. Aemond ponders whether his father’s disinterest in him is a result of the illness that weakens his body by the day, or if he simply has no room in his heart for the children borne of his second marriage. When he watches him interact with Rhaenyra, how he lights up in her presence in a way that he does not for him or his other siblings, he knows it is the latter.

The fireplace warms his skin, uncomfortably so, and despite the septa’s caution that he not sit so close, he refuses to budge. Sweat prickles the back of his neck, dampening and curling the ends of the hair that sticks to it. His discomfort is of little importance to him, he needs to remain within this proximity to the hearth in order to keep his egg warm, to ensure it hatches. It is a vigil he has kept for as long as he can remember, not moving until he is forced to bed with aching joints and soot covered hands. Unable to understand why it had never hatched in his cradle, he is certain that if he does his due diligence then soon he will have a dragon of his own.

His mother is alerted of his disobedience, and Alicent regards him with sadness in her large brown eyes, as she reaches for him.

“Come away, my dearest love, you will have a dragon of your own one day.”

He simply shakes his head. She could not understand. He does not want just any dragon, he wants his. There must be a reason why this particular egg was imparted upon him, otherwise it is all for nothing.

Despite this, day after day the hardened scales remain cool to the touch, little more than a rock between his tiny fingers. Perhaps placing it within the flames themselves will yield the result he hopes for?

He leans forward into the fireplace, heat blazing against his pale cheeks, and an acrid stench fills his nostrils. It is not until he is pulled forcefully back by the firm grasp of the septa that he realises the ends of his long, fair hair have singed, charred and blackened by the heat of the fire.

The egg is taken away after that, and Aemond weeps bitterly at the unfairness of it. It is his birthright, his only birthright, and now his sole purpose for being has been snatched from him; it seems there is little point to his existence now. He never sees the egg again, but he often wonders what would have happened if he had been left uninterrupted to place it upon the flames.

When Aemond is a little older, he begins to frequent the Dragonpit, for what is a Targaryen without their dragon? If he no longer has his own egg then he will find another, or perhaps claim a riderless mount of his own.

The warmth beneath the Grand Sept is different from that of the fireplace. It is dank and humid within the pit, the odour of droppings hangs heavy in the air, mixed with sulphur and ash. The smell sticks to his clothes when he returns to the Keep each evening, and momentarily he feels his chest swell with pride as his mother winkles her nose in disgust at the scent. It is the same look of distaste that she bestows upon both Helaena and Aegon when they return from flying, and for the briefest of moments he can pretend that he has too.

Yet still he goes to bed each evening dragonless, and begins each day anew with the bitter taste of jealousy in his mouth as he watches his nephews, Jacaerys and Lucerys, interact with their dragons, Vermax and Arrax. Targaryens are considered to be closer to gods than men, so it feels like a cruel twist of fate that his half sister’s bastard offspring should be blessed with eggs that hatched in their cradles when his did not. Rhaenyra’s children have the favour of the Seven, whereas they seem to have turned a blind eye to him.

Aemond’s heart soars with hope when the dragonkeepers reveal to his sister that Dreamfyre is gravid. If she produces a healthy clutch of eggs then he can claim one, one that will actually hatch. In spite of the warnings that the she-dragon be left in peace during this sensitive time, and Helaena’s frustrated and repeated requests to stop disturbing her, he cannot resist the pull towards where she roosts within her darkened cave. If she is to lay an egg, then he wants to be the first to see it, to ensure he can take one for himself.

The blistering heat of the flames that Dreamfyre expels with her mighty roar of anger as he approaches yet again causes him to stagger backwards, wide eyed and slack jawed. But Aemond feels no fear as gazes into her fiery maw, his only thoughts are that one day soon a beast of his own will do much the same.

When Aegon claps a heavy hand upon his shoulder, steering him forward, and claiming a dragon has been found for him, he does his best to remain calm. He is used to his brother and nephews’ cruel japes at his expense. But as he stands at the top of the slope to the Dragonpit, he cannot help the way his heart races with excitement at the possibility that it might be true.

His hopes are dashed when a pig is led out to him, trussed up in wings, having been jokingly named “the pink dread”. He bows his head at the raucous laughter of Aegon, Jace and Luke around him, humiliation flushing his cheeks for having dared to believe it could be true.

The echoes of Aegon’s mocking pig grunts ring in his ears all the way home, and he stands dejectedly as Alicent delivers yet another scolding for him having dared to disturb Dreamfyre. He is usually silently accepting of her scorn, confident he knows better, and prepared to defy her all over again the next day. However, this time he can no longer bear the injustice of it all.

“They gave me a pig!” He cries, feeling the prickle of tears in his eyes. “They laughed, they all laughed.”

The warmth of his mother’s embrace does little to comfort the inferno that blazes inside of him. Today is proof of the fact that his own brother does not view him as equal - how could he? Aemond is a second born son and has no dragon. He is worth nothing.

If he is not destined to be a dragonrider, then Aemond decides he will give his all to becoming a fearsome warrior instead. He excels in the training yard with each daily practice, every strike of his wooden sword against the straw stuffed target more ferocious than the last. The proud glint in the eye of Ser Criston Cole as he watches diligently, offering guidance on both stance and technique, serves to spur him on. He will be the best at this, he has to be.

Much to his displeasure, the allotted time for sparring is shared with his nephews. Though they learn under the watchful eye of Ser Harwin Strong, there is still a competitive element, and an underlying sense of animosity between Criston and Harwin that he does not quite understand.

Aegon later tells him it is because Ser Harwin is the true father of Rhaenyra’s children. He feels a smug sense of satisfaction at being privy to this information, and it brings him and his older brother closer together. The two of them share rare moments of comradery each time they don their armour and pick up their practice blades. It’s the only time that Aemond ever genuinely laughs or smiles.

There is an obvious divide from that point onwards, Targaryens uniting against Strongs, and as the tension grows between the boys, it does between their mentors too, until one day it reaches a boiling point.

At first Aemond titters along with his brother as they watch Criston scuffle with Harwin, but his smile quickly fades upon seeing how valiantly their father fights for them, knowing his own would never do the same for him. As he looks up into the solemn features of Aegon, he knows the sentiment is shared. It is yet another privilege that Rhaenyra’s children possess that he does not have; the love of their father.

They journey to Driftmark when they receive the news that Laena Velaryon has passed away in childbirth. The icy, coastal winds that whip Aemond’s hair around his face as the stone coffin is committed to the sea are as bleak as the mood that envelopes them all. He seeks warmth near the brazier, attempting to catch the eye of Jace, who stands on the opposite side. Despite the tension between them, he hopes to offer condolences, knowing the loss of both Ser Harwin and his aunt play heavily upon his nephew’s mind.

He realises it is a futile gesture the moment that Jace turns away in disgust, and once more Aemond is reminded of how alone he truly is, that he has nothing. Luke will inherit Driftmark, and their mother has betrothed Helaena to Aegon. Luke snivels at what he is offered, claiming that when Driftmark passes to him it means everyone will have died. Aegon scoffs at the notion of being married to Helaena, claiming they have nothing in common.

It angers Aemond, to be overlooked in favour of those who are so ungrateful for all they have. If he were set to inherit anything, he would do everything in his power to prove he is worthy of it and bear the title with honour. If his mother had betrothed his sister to him, he would do his duty and ensure the match produces heirs that would make House Targaryen proud.

His attention is drawn to the clifftop when he sees the spread of enormous wings and hears the mighty rumble of the creature atop it. Vhagar. Laena Velaryon’s dragon is now riderless, and the pull he feels towards her is one he simply cannot ignore. At last, he has found his purpose and his desire to claim a dragon is reinvigorated with new strength.

Aemond waits until nightfall. Sea spray has made the rocks slippery beneath his feet, and he ascends carefully, though determined, towards the top of the cliff where Vhagar roosts. Windswept and breathless by the time he reaches the top, he stands awestruck at the sleeping dragon. Even partially submerged in sand, she is a magnificent sight to behold. She had appeared massive when looking at her from above, but it does nothing to prepare him for the sheer scale of her up close. She is gargantuan.

For a moment, icy fingers of fear grip Aemond’s heart, and he considers simply turning back, he has made a dangerous mistake. He shakes the thought from his mind the moment it presents itself.

I am no craven.

His approach is tentative, palms outstretched to communicate that he does not present a threat, as the elderly beast grumbles and shakes sand from her back. He stares transfixed as she opens her jaws, the white hot inferno that swirls within their depths makes that of Dreamfyre’s seem like a mere campfire. He feels as though he is looking into the very mouth of the Seven Hells themselves, but instead of fear Aemond feels kinship. Vhagar is without purpose, as is he, until now.

“Lykirī,” he calls out, the wind carrying half the sound away with it. Yet she hears, and she stills, eyeing the child before her with keen curiosity. Be calm.

Emboldened by her calmness at his command, Aemond steps closer, fingertips ghosting against the heat that radiates from her scales.

“Dohaerās, Vhagar,” he tells her, voice trembling. This is the same dragon ridden by the great warrior, Visenya, the conqueror’s wife. She is battle hardened, and with the smallest of movements could snuff out his short life. Serve.

The faintest sound of displeasure reverberates through Vhagar’s body, yet she remains still. Aemond’s heart beats wildly in his chest as he grips the ropes attached to her saddle and begins to pull himself up. If he had thought the climb to the top of the cliff difficult, it proves nothing compared to this. His arms ache with exertion, the expanse of the great beast he is attempting to summit is vaster than anything he has ever climbed before.

By the time he pulls himself into the saddle, Aemond’s palms are red raw with rope burn and his skin is damp with perspiration. There is barely time for him to catch his breath though, as the moment Vhagar feels him settle on her back, she rises to her feet, vast quantities of sand slipping from her back and wings in drifts.

The movement startles Aemond, and he fears he will fall. His sore hands cling tightly to her reins as he shouts his final command to her. 

“Sōvēs.” Fly.

As she rises into the air with an effortless flap of her wings, he feels as though he has left his stomach on the ground below. The rush upwards is dizzying, frightening and exhilarating all at once. Aemond begins to laugh as he grows used to the weightless sensation of every ebb and flow through the air as it whistles past his ears, and chills his skin to the bone. He is finally complete, he has his dragon, and for the first time in his life he is genuinely happy.

That happiness is short-lived.

The moment he reaches solid ground, his cousins, Baela and Rhaena, are waiting for him, alongside Jace and Luke. He had anticipated this, and is well prepared.

“It’s him!” Rhaena shouts as soon as she sees him.

“It’s me,” he responds calmly, confident there is nothing to be done now that Vhagar is his.

“Vhagar is my mother’s dragon!”

“Your mother is dead, and Vhagar has a new rider now.”

“She was mine to claim!”

“Then you should have claimed her. Maybe your cousins can find you a pig to ride? It would suit you.”

He is startled when Rhaena angrily charges towards him, though he is bigger than her and pushes her to the ground with ease. A punch from her sister, Baela, catches him off guard, the pain in his face enraging him and causing him to hit back so hard she falls over.

“Come at me again and I’ll feed you to my dragon!” He snarls angrily.

Jace and Luke rush at him, and in a moment of confidence Aemond thinks he has bested the both of them, until all four children knock him down and begin to rain their fists down upon him.

He is the rider of the world’s largest dragon, and his new found confidence coupled with the surge of adrenaline allows him to fight them all back. He grasps a rock, holding it above Luke’s head as he grasps him tightly by the collar.

“You will die screaming in flames, just as your father did. Bastards!” He hisses.

“My father is still alive!” Luke wails.

Aemond smirks, rock still held above his sobbing nephew, and he glances to Jace. “He does not know, does he, Lord Strong?”

Jace unsheathes a dagger, to the protestations of both Rhaena and Baela, and the distraction is enough for Aemond to knock it from his hand. His dedication in the training yard has paid off and he quickly gets the better of Jace, snatching up the rock once more, prepared to bring it down upon his skull should he try to attack him again.

In Aemond’s mind, the matter is settled, they should accept what has happened and retire to bed.

Unfortunately, his nephews do not share the sentiment. He winces, staggering backwards as Jace throws sand in his face, and before he has had time to fully recover, Luke is racing towards him, Jace’s dagger in hand.

The pain is excruciating as his nephew slashes upwards, and suddenly his vision shows blackness on one side, instead of his surroundings. He falls to his knees, a shriek of agony leaving him as blood seeps through the fingers of the hand he clasps to one side of his face.

His only focus is the searing, torturous pain he feels, waves of nausea rippling through his prone body, until a clamour of armour alerts him to the presence of the Kingsguard. As a knight kneels beside him, coaxing his hand away, his pale, horrified expression and exclamation of “Gods be good” are all Aemond needs to know that his face is ruined forever.

The fire in the hall of Driftmark is warm against his skin, and he does his best to focus on that sensation instead of that of the Maester extracting his eye from his skull. Though he has been dosed with milk of the poppy, he still feels every cut, every tug, and the pierce of the needle as it’s pulled through his skin repeatedly to stitch up the wound.

Aemond is unsure if it is the milk of the poppy that dulls his senses, or the satisfaction he feels at having claimed the world’s largest dragon, but he does not feel anger or sadness as he expects he would have when he is told his eye is lost forever.

When his mother snatches a knife and charges towards Rhaenyra, he is certain she has more blood of the dragon coursing through her veins than his coward of a father does. She is willing to risk everything to avenge his disfigurement, while Viserys makes excuses and appears more affronted at his eldest daughter’s children being called bastards. The loss of Aemond’s eye seems of little importance to him.

It is in that moment that Aemond feels the tiny semblance of respect he had for his father wither and die. As he takes in the harrowed expressions of Alicent, Aegon and Helaena, he knows they are all he has left.

“Do not mourn me, mother,” he says softly, rising to comfort her, though unsteady on his feet as he adjusts to his partial sightedness. “I may have lost an eye, but I have gained a dragon.”

A scar mars the flesh of Aemond’s face, but also ravages its way through the Targaryen family. Rhaenyra and her children leave King’s Landing, settling upon Dragonstone with Daemon and his daughters. Meanwhile, the health of Viserys continues to decline and the instances he is not bedridden grow fewer. Aemond does not miss his presence.

Worry hangs over his mother, a permanent shroud of anxiety, while Aegon becomes more debaucherous, sinking further into his cups with each passing day. Helaena retreats deeper into herself, rarely speaking unless spoken to, and bristles at any initiation of physical touch.

Slowly, Aemond heals, though it is not without struggle. He must learn to do everything anew. His favourite books become a chore to read, no longer able to pore over their pages for as long without suffering a terrible ache in his head.

Criston has to begin his training with the sword all over again. There is a newfound blind spot to account for when he fights. Not only does he have to learn how to balance, pivot and wield his weapon with accuracy, he also has to develop hyper vigilance and an acute awareness of where his opponent is at all times, to prevent them from drifting to the side from which he cannot see, and besting him.

Even flying on dragonback is difficult, though he only has one flight to compare it to. He learns fast, and is grateful that Vhagar’s advanced age makes her placid and more forgiving than a younger mount might be. When Aemond is airborne he can almost forget his disfigurement entirely, until he returns to the ground and the world is half blackness once more.

It is enough to make Aemond want to scream in frustration and give up at times. However, he is accustomed to a life of feeling out of place, of having to work harder than everyone else to prove his worth. There is nothing to be gained from a defeatist attitude, so he hardens himself to the challenges he faces, determined to be better with one eye than he was with two.

If his vision of the world is now limited, then he will simply expand his mind beyond that. He loses himself in tomes of history and philosophy, ignoring the dull pain that plagues his skull as he reads into the small hours.

In the training yard, he is quick to learn to keep Criston within his line of sight at all times, and wields his sword viciously, relentlessly, always striving to be faster, stronger, more precise. The proud look upon the Knight’s face means little to him now. The only person he means to prove anything to is himself. 

He reasons that a warrior must appear as fearsome as they fight, and takes to wearing a sapphire in the empty socket of his eye, when it is not covered by a patch.

The single matter that Aemond is never able to quite grasp is that of the fairer sex. Aegon has always seemed to have an overly indulgent interest in women, moreso what lies between their legs, but he has never understood his brother’s obsession with fornication. He has read about the mechanics of it in books, and the idea makes his lip curl in disgust. However, he reasons that Aegon is older, and perhaps his own appetite will develop in much the same way as he ages.

Aegon reasons that women’s skin is soft, they smell nice, and when you find one that has the perfect pair of tits and legs then there is little else that matters. While it is agreeable to Aemond that women are indeed more pleasant to look upon than men, he questions why he should not take an interest in their education or how they like to pass the time. His brother argues that once you are sheathed inside a woman, it is not what is in their mind that matters in the slightest.

Upon Aemond’s thirteenth name day, Aegon slaps him on the back and informs him that it is “time to get it wet”. The very idea makes his guts churn with unease, yet he dons the clothes of common folk just the same, pulling a hood over his head, and allows his brother to guide him to the Street of Silk.

The walk through Flea Bottom reeks of urine, with men staggering half drunk through the narrow cobbled streets, while women in varying states of undress beckon them forward into darkened hovels. Aemond keeps his head bowed, dreading what is to come, and is thankful when the establishment that his older brother guides him to looks slightly more respectable than the half a dozen they have passed by already.

The pleasure house is dimly lit and the heady scent of cheap perfume burns his nostrils, though it barely covers the smell of another undesirable stench that he assumes is the byproduct of what goes on here. He half wonders if it will stick to his clothing, much like the smell of sulphur and ash does when he returns from dragonback. He sincerely hopes not. 

His throat runs dry when Aegon staggers away with a busty woman, full of giggles, leaving him alone. The brothel’s madame has a kind smile, though it does not meet her eyes, and when she places her hand upon his shoulder it makes him shudder. He feels her touch there like a brand long after she has taken it away.

“Choose any of my girls that you like,” she tells him.

Timidly he eyes all of them. He wants none of them, but how can he say that?

When he hesitates, she chooses for him, pushing him towards a room with a girl that cannot be much older than he is. Her hair is the colour of straw, her skin reeks of the same perfume that lingers thick within the air, and there is wine upon her breath.

The fireplace burns low in the room as he lays upon the bed, and he keeps his eye fixed upon it until it is over. He has enjoyed none of it, the finish feeling little more to him than the satisfaction he experiences when scratching an itch. He cannot understand why Aegon makes such a fuss about it, if that is all there is to it then he never wants to partake in such an act of vulgarity ever again.

He leaves without saying a word, and walks as quickly as his legs will carry him back to the Red Keep. In the bathtub that evening, he scrubs until his skin is red raw, wanting nothing more than to erase every trace of what he has endured that day.

When he is served his favourite meal for his name day feast, roasted haunch of venison, he finds he has no appetite. Sickly perfume fills his nose and turns his stomach, and he leaves his plate untouched.

From that day forth, Aemond decides that he has no taste for depravity, and dedicates his time to reading, training with the sword and taking flight on Vhagar. Despite the nagging ache at the back of his mind that Aegon is set to succeed their father when he passes away, despite neither wanting nor deserving it, he feels a sense of fulfillment in knowing that he is making both their mother and House Targaryen proud.

There are few books in the Keep’s library he has not read at least twice, and he trains daily in the yard with Criston, now at a point where he is the victor in almost every sparring match.

The years pass, and Aemond is content with solitude, assuming that is his lot in life. Fire and blood course hotly in his veins, and in spite of his disfigurement he feels every inch a true Targaryen.

Viserys deteriorates to the point that Aemond’s grandsire and Hand of the King, Otto, now oversees most of the royal duties, and he has begun in earnest to plan with Alicent for Aegon’s eventual coronation. It comes as no shock to Aemond the day that he is beckoned to the Small Council Chamber, though he is surprised to find it is just his grandsire that sits at the table, there is not even a cup bearer present.

“I trust you are aware of the plans to crown Aegon once your father passes?” Otto asks, once Aemond is seated in the chair nearest to him.

Aemond sits up straight against the backrest, long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle, as he regards Otto impassively. “I am.”

“Good,” Otto nods, clasping his hands in front of him on the table. “Then I am sure you must know of your own duty to the realm.”

Aemond purses his lips, eyeing the older man carefully. “I will do what I must to ensure Aegon’s claim to the throne goes unchallenged.”

Otto sighs, leaning back and regarding Aemond with a twinkle of amusement in his eye. “Rhaenyra is sure to challenge your brother’s birthright, as your father foolishly named her heir, but there are means to remedy that.”

Aemond says nothing, waiting for Otto to say what he means. He watches as he fills both their wine cups, before setting the jug down. He takes a deep drink from his own, but Aemond leaves his untouched, wishing his grandsire would just get to the point.

Otto clicks his tongue before continuing. “To strengthen Aegon’s claim, we must curry favour with the other Great Houses of the realm.”

Aemond lowers his gaze, fingers drumming absentmindedly on the armrests of his chair. “You wish for me to marry.”

“Yes, Aemond, you are to be betrothed.”

The tone of voice in which Otto says this has such finality, it sounds as though a match has already been decided. His eye flickers upwards to meet the unyielding gaze of his grandsire.

“To who?”

“Your mother and I thought it best not to present you with suitors, we know you would not enjoy such a spectacle.”

You know all of them would take one look at me and be horrified by the very notion of being married to me.

Otto continues, “So we have chosen for you. The daughter of Lord Rickon Stark, Lorra. She is a pretty girl, and having the allegiance of a Great House of the North will weaken Rhaenyra’s claim.”

Aemond stays silent as his mind races.

House Stark. Their sigil is a dire wolf, their words are Winter is Coming.

Beyond that, he knows nothing of Northerners, what could he possibly learn about his betrothed from a book anyway?

He wets his lips, resigned to his fate. “When?”

“She will arrive in King’s Landing in two weeks, so that you can begin your courtship of her.”

“I will do my duty.”

“I trust that you will.”

Aemond retires to his chambers for the remainder of the day. He had anticipated that he would have to marry to form a political alliance at some point, however, the thought rattles him all the same. 

He is a solitary creature by nature, what on earth will he do with a wife? He supposes life will stay much the same, if his mother and father and Aegon and Helaena are to be used as examples - both couples married, yet living entirely separate lives. It is a mere formality. He will not be expected to spend time with her.

They will be expected to produce heirs, however. Nervousness swirls in his gut at the thought. He does not want to endure what happened to him at the brothel each time he couples with his wife, yet he cannot leave her childless either.

Lorra is a highborn lady, however, not a common whore, so perhaps he will be able to find pleasure in the act. Doubt niggles in his mind as he ponders his inexperience. A Prince must know what he is doing if he is to produce children, and Aemond possesses neither experience nor interest in the act of procreation. He will need to prepare if he is to perform his marital duties as anticipated without embarrassing himself or his wife.

The thought of returning to Flea Bottom makes him shiver in revulsion. He has no desire to part with coin for an act that sickens him. He will need to find an alternative.

There are plenty of maidservants around the Keep who are pretty enough, and of a similar age to him. He does not wish to be like his brother, however, and will not take what is not freely given. He has observed the way that Aegon expresses interest in the women that attend to them during mealtimes and decides to deploy some of the same tactics, though in a much more subtle manner.

At supper the following evening, he spots a young woman who is pleasing to him. She has a slender neck and pretty face, her large eyes framed by thick lashes. He watches her carefully as she rounds the table, filling each cup with wine, and when finally she approaches him, he deliberately reaches forward, his fingers brushing the soft skin of her wrist as she pours from the jug she holds. She glances down at him and he looks up, holding her gaze, the faintest of smirks on his face. A slight blush creeps up her neck, dusting its way across her cheekbones and he knows she is interested.

He spends the rest of the meal catching her eye whenever he can, and when the evening draws to a close, he lingers in the doorway, beckoning her with the slightest tip of his head when she looks at him, before walking back to his bedchamber. Aemond does not have to wait long for the knock at his door.

“Your grace, will you be needing anything else this evening?” She asks with a polite smile.

He closes the door behind them, steeling himself before turning to face her. “You understand why you are here?”

She nods, reaching up to cup his face as she leans in. He turns away, pulling back slightly.

“I have no need for you to kiss me.”

She nods in understanding and moves towards the bed, slipping out of her clothes. Aemond stands in silence as he watches her disrobe. She is attractive to look at, much more desirable than the girl he had coupled with in Flea Bottom. Smooth skinned, with subtle curves and firm breasts. He wonders how many others have looked upon her in the same manner that he has.

“Lay down,” he instructs her, once she is fully bare before him.

She moves to position herself face down, but Aemond steps forward, halting her actions.

“Let me look at you.”

“As you wish, your grace,” she whispers, blushing again, and repositions onto her back.

Aemond stands over her, his eye raking over her form as he takes in the way her chest rises and falls with every breath, the way the narrowness of her waist expands outwards towards her hips.

Tentatively, he reaches forward, fingers trailing lightly over the plush flesh of her inner thigh, tugging gently.

Obediently, she spreads her legs and he sucks in a breath at what glistens between them, curiosity guiding his actions as he spreads his fingers through the slick folds. She sighs in pleasure, and he looks back up at her face. Her lips are parted, eyes hooded with desire. Admittedly, though this is a much better experience than what he’d endured when he was thirteen, he still feels little in the way of excitement. Aemond appreciates that she lays there quietly, however, allowing him to take things at his own pace, and he feels his body respond to her regardless of his lack of emotion.

When his cock strains almost painfully against the lacings of his breeches, he unfastens them, crawling over the maidservant to cage her body in with his. She feels better against him than the whore had, her skin is more supple and her scent not quite so overpowering. He grunts as he pushes himself inside of her, her tight, wet heat gripping every inch of him as he slides forward.

The inside of her is different from the grasp of his own hand. Aemond is no stranger to the act of self pleasure, using it as a means to clear his mind or lull himself to sleep on nights when rest evades him. It is not a carnal act for him though, he simply focuses on the sensation, guiding himself to release. Despite the pleasant warmth of her body, he does not feel driven to desperate passion as he had anticipated, as he has so often heard Aegon describe.

As he rocks his hips into hers, back and forth, the growing ache he experiences is nice enough, but it does not light a fire within him. He is simply rutting against another person. The dulcet sounds that fall from her lips as he pistons into her sound too performative, and he feels resentment as he looks upon her face, just wanting to put an end to it.

He speeds up, and her sounds grow louder. Annoyance prickles at his skin.

“Shut the fuck up,” he hisses.

She falls silent and the room fills with the sound of the slap of his skin against hers, until finally he spills inside of her with a quiet gasp. He is quick to withdraw from her, standing and tucking himself away.

“You can go now,” he tells her, turning away.

He doesn’t watch as she dresses and quietly leaves his chamber. Aemond feels disappointment that he is unable to derive pleasure from such a carnal act. He has read that it is supposed to evoke excitement within a person, and from the way Aegon behaves he knows it is certainly true. So why does such a feeling evade him?

It matters not, he supposes. He will treat his wife in the same way he has the maidservant this evening. He will not take her by force, and he will be gentle with her. The act will be for the sole purpose of producing heirs, besides that they will live their lives as they please. He did not choose her, and she did not choose him, so he is confident that this will be an arrangement she finds satisfactory.

The next two weeks pass by without incident. Aemond reads, he trains and he flies, and thoughts of his betrothal scarcely enter his mind.

Upon the day of Lorra’s arrival to the Red Keep, he gathers in the Great Hall, with Alicent, Otto, Aegon and Helaena to greet her upon her arrival. He stands straight, hands clasped firmly behind his back, eye scanning the room impatiently. He hates the formality of it all, and wonders what could possibly be taking such a long time.

He will, of course, be dutiful and stand here for as long as necessary, but irritability simmers within him as he exhales heavily through his nose, wishing to be anywhere else right now, the library, the training yard, on dragonback. Such a display seems wholly unnecessary for an arrangement that is a mere formality.

When finally the doors open to the steps that ascend into the Hall, he faces forward, eye fixed upon the Kingsguard that file in. Until he sees her.

Draped in a cerulean cloak, trimmed with grey fur, she seems as though she is floating, rather than walking as she approaches. Her ivory skin is tinged with the faintest of pink against her cheeks and the curls of her ebony hair are braided down her back.

Aemond’s throat runs dry, his heart pounding quickly against his ribcage, and he realises he is holding his breath. The last time he felt such a powerful combination of fear, awe and longing had been the night he had first laid eyes upon Vhagar. It unsettles him, and he is grateful that his hands remain behind his back, otherwise he is certain that she would be able to see how they tremble.

“Lady Lorra of House Stark,” comes the announcement to the Hall, but it sounds distant and far away to Aemond as he stands, transfixed by her.

His blood pumps like liquid fire through his veins. Her eyes, so blue they could almost be sapphires, meet his and he feels a shiver run through him. After a lifetime of resonating in the warmth of flames, he is chilled by the ice that is reflected back at him.

[ellieluvr420]

Change (Abby Anderson x reader)

They had her, the love of your life, they had her and they were going to die for it.

Your actions weren't even conscious anymore, acting only on instinct, adrenaline-fuelled rage that drove you to the point of insanity. There was nothing in your way because anything that tried to stop you was slaughtered, infected dropping left right and centre until the horde that they had lured to you was laying in a pile behind you. Your clothes drenched in blood, slowly drying and staining your skin until a new layer covers it as the next wave flies at you.

People this time, but it made no difference to you. The only person your mind could register was her, so when the sharp edge of your axe dug into the poor man's neck that made the mistake of running at you, the squelching feeling only made you more exhilarated. You rip the axe out of his neck and the splatter of blood that paints you and the floor tastes as sweet as honey to you. Two men go down as your gun fires twice.

You keep walking, your pace never slowing, and as two more soldiers walk in front of you with their hands up a sick smile plasters itself onto your face as you dig the axe into one's abdomen as you shoot the other straight in the throat. Their time to surrender was over, they made their bed and now they can lay in it for all eternity.

The closer you get to her the stronger you feel as you leave a trail of bodies behind you, your path stained red. You swap from your handgun and axe to your assault rifle as you see a large swarm of soldiers running at you. When you had stumbled across the gun hiding from other passers by you felt like you had won the lottery and as the melody of screams fills your ears while you watch them drop to the ground like flies, you only felt luckier. You had never been violent, you were forced into training to be a soldier but now you understood how it feels, the bloodlust, you would never stop. Not when you've got her back, not ever, anyone that isn't her would die if they crossed your path from now. You would never lose her again and if your soul had to wither away for that to happen you would give it up in a second.

The thundering bangs of bullet after bullet leaving the chamber of your gun made you dizzy, faint almost, the power surging through you was enough to make you feel like you weren't human. A whole wave of soldiers down, just like that. Commotion sounds from behind you and without even glancing backwards you light a molotov that you had been saving for an occasion like this and chuck it behind you. There's that melody again, the harmony of shrieks and cries for help, the smell of burning flesh invades your nostrils and to you it smells like a freshly baked cake. They shouldn't have taken her but they learned their lesson too late.

You push forward further and further until you reach the building you knew they were keeping her in. She's yours and she'll be with you soon. "I'll be there soon baby." You mutter to yourself as you change the magazine of your gun to a fresh one before slamming it into the glass of the locked doors, another barrier between you and her demolished. You're barely through the shattered door when you hear the footsteps of countless soldiers running to their deaths. You imagine some of them being sure this would be the mission that set them apart, that made them a hero, and then you imagine their families being informed that the fucking idiot got themself killed because they underestimated you. You're a different person to who you were when you were a part of the WLF and Abby is too and they were too stupid to see that when they took her from you.

You both made the plan to run and you weren't prepared to give up the dream any time soon. You were leaving and she was leaving with you, even if you had to kill every member of the WLF and reduce their bases to rubble, so be it. They chose this. The thundering footsteps got closer as you took cover behind a wall and raised your gun, ready for the first wave. The continuous thud that accompanied the firing of your bullets was music to your ears and as the hallway goes quiet you advance further. A shriek fills your ears and your blood runs cold because even in a state of distress you'd recognise her voice anywhere. You're so close.

You follow the sound until you're outside the room you know she's being held in. You sling your gun over your shoulder and brandish your axe as if it's made bespoke for your hand. You slam the door open and before even looking at the love of your life you bring the axe down into Isaac's head, over and over again until he's unrecognisable. You stand from his lifeless form, breathing heavy and eyes crazed before they soften as you make eye contact with her. She's here, really here and you could feel her soft skin caressing yours as you undid her binds and gave her your handgun. "Ready babe?"

"Let's go." You raise your gun once again as the crashing of soldiers coming straight at you sends shockwaves through your body. The more blood you spilled in your escape, the more you wanted to stay to spill more but Abby's hand gently pulling you toward the gate that let you run to your fantasy rips you away from the carnage you had left in your trail.

You had wanted to leave to find peace but this feeling had a funny way of changing you.

If blood wasn't spilling, you would never be at peace. Abby watched you change right in front of her eyes, you became a blood-thirsty monster and all she wanted to do was help you get your fill. You left for peace and peace for you both ended up being bringing death and destruction to whatever crossed your path. Darkness overtook you both and you revelled in it.

Bloodlust had transformed you into angels of death, falling further from grace with every body that dropped before you.

erm idk i needed some female rage vibes rn and instead i came out with something minorly psychopathic, akneewayz

[general-fanfiction]

Just Not Enough. (Spencer White x Reader)

Summary: Y/N isn't good enough until it's too late.

Word Count: 1.2k

Gif Not Mine. Requests Are Open!

Warnings: Mature language, hint of suicide (maybe), allusions to cheating

A/N: Testing the waters with a short Spider fic, beware it's an angsty one. Would love to write some more for Heartbreak High so do send your requests!

“Y/N please, the building is on fire!” I hear Spider’s voice shouting at me from down the hallway, though I make no effort to stop. Marching as far away from him as I can, with no clear destination in mind. All I know is that I need to be away from him.

Throwing the classroom door open with more force than necessary, I flinch ever so slightly when it slams against the wall. Unaware of how much strength I had truly used until that moment. The footsteps behind me have fallen silent, though I’m acutely aware of the presence behind me. As much as I can pretend it isn’t there.

“Seriously Y/N, we need to leave! This isn’t safe!” Spider shouts once again, however his voice isn’t raised in anger, purely concern. I wish I couldn’t hear the worry in his voice but it’s something that just can’t be ignored.

Fixing my gaze out of the window, I focus on the row of classrooms on the other side of the quad. Staring at one of the doors so intensely, in the hopes that I can block everything out.

I can feel my heart pulsing at what feels like one million miles per hour, my breaths quick and shaky, hands trembling despite how tight I’m clenching my fists in a futile attempt to calm myself down. The pain inside of me feels like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. As though the bottle inside of me has finally burst, shattering into thousands of pieces and flooding my body with all the anguish and hurt I had so carefully tucked away.

“Y/N come on we need-” 

“Why am I always your second option?”

Before I can stop myself, I’m interrupting the boy. Spinning around to face him so quickly that I almost trip over my own feet. My eyebrows are raised as I glare up at him, waiting anxiously for him to answer the question. Knowing that whatever he says next could make or break me. I can tell he wasn’t anticipating the question, face displaying his evident guilt and a hint of confusion. Eyes unable to reach mine.

“You’re not, that’s not-”

“Why am I not good enough?”

 Despite my best efforts, the muscles around my mouth tug the corners of my lips down, forcing a frown. With that, the dam bursts, tears seep out of my eyes silently as I hurry to wipe them away with the back of my hand. Not wanting to show Spider just how much he’s hurting me. 

Cautiously the boy takes a step towards me, as though testing the water as to how close he can get before I snap. His perfectly ironed suit is now slightly disheveled from all the sprinting through the hallways, and yet the worst part is that he still manages to make it look good. It’s infuriating.

“I told you not to get too close to me.” Spider sighs, his hand hesitantly reaching out to grab mine. As our fingers brush against one another, I shake my head. A new wave of rage washes over me.

“Nah, don’t do that.” I state, swiftly pulling my hand away from his. “Don’t play the bad guy card because that isn’t you. I know you, I know you’re better than that.”

“From the day we met, I knew I’d hurt you eventually.” Spider states running a hand through his blonde locks, tugging at them slightly out of frustration. “You’re so innocent and pure, Y/N you’re an angel. You’re too good for this world.”

Spider brushes his knuckles against my cheek. The cold of his rings a stark contrast to the flaming heat radiating from my cheeks. His thumb gently wipes away the tears that continue to fall and for a moment I forget everything that has happened.

“I wish I could be a better person.”

It’s those eight little words that break me from his trance. My eyes locking with his as a scowl sets on my face. Giving the boy no time to react, I use everything in me to shove him backwards, sending him sprawling to the floor. Yanking the material of my dress up I straddle his stomach, sending punch after punch to his chest and face.

“Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you.” Repeating the phrase over and over again, I find myself getting so caught up in my emotions that my actions become weaker, allowing Spider to catch my wrists in his hands. Holding them so tight, I wouldn’t be surprised if bruises formed.

My body collapses, falling into a heap beside the much taller boy. His hands still hold my wrists, as I let out pained wails. Unable to stop myself from breaking down. Gripping the pink fabric of his shirt, my fingers turn white at how hard I’m clutching on to him. I shouldn’t allow myself to be in his embrace. The person who caused me this pain, shouldn’t be the one comforting me and yet here he is. He’s not a bad person, no matter how much he pretends to be. I just know it.

“I wish that I never met you.” I bawled, feeling the headache beginning to radiate through my head due to how hard I am crying.

“You should have walked away when you had the chance.” Spider whispers, before pressing a delicate kiss to the top of my head, allowing me to sob into his shirt.

The overwhelming stench on smoke begins to grow stronger, accompanied by the sounds of sirens outside. Yet, I’m too tired to move. Worn out from the events of tonight and the emotional distress that I have endured.

“You mean everything to me, but I was only something to you.” I croak out, watching the smoke slowly creep underneath the door. There’s something so beautiful in the way it rises and I can’t take my eyes off it.

“I do care about you Y/N.” 

“Just not enough.”

The images of her in his arms flash through my mind. How he kissed her so gently, how he held her the way he is holding me now. How she isn’t kept a secret. How she is the first choice. She’s always been the first choice.

I can feel myself struggling to breathe, eyes barely keeping themselves open. Flashing lights illuminate the room from outside, making Spider look angelic. His features are so soft under the bright lights. 

“The fire brigade is here, Y/N, we have to get out.” 

Spider’s words cause me to glance up at him, cupping his face with the palm of my hand. My breathing is shallow and my touch light. His arms hold me tighter and I notice his eyes are watering as I gaze up at him.

“Is it okay if I give up?”

“What? Give up what? Y/N?” Spider’s voice is panicked and all I can bring myself to do is press a gentle kiss to his lips as I allow myself to shut my eyes.

“Y/N, Y/N. No, come on, I’ll get you out of here I promise.” 

As I begin to drift out of consciousness, I can feel Spider doing his best to haul me up and drag me out of the burning school. “Wake up! Y/N please, I’m begging you, wake up! I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry for everything, please, just wake up.”

[samodivaa]

Deny the truth,set my world on fire (Part 3)

Bucky Barnes x Reader (Winter Soldier x Reader)

He knew that she was having an affair...she denies, but the love marks on her body are still there. She can't tell him the truth, it will break him - the Winter Soldier is indeed inside of him, fucking her at night and Bucky doesn't remember. Part 1⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ Part 2 ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆* Part 4⋆*･ﾟ:⋆* Music --- Vivaldi - Winter (L'inverno) Quotes - Fyodor Dostoevsky └── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘ Warnings - heavy ANGST, mention of murder, non-con

Listened to it on repeat until i finished the chapter. Enjoy. ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ Calm, boring days, an unknown future, and an irregular sleep, the days pass and nothing new. The absence of knowledge is the presence of paranoia – she crumbles mentally. It's been happening for so long – it is all that is happening, over and over again. She is full of fear, leading to feeling grief. Her life, a tragedy, a land of devastation and destruction. All the bright, precious things of Bucky fade so fast – in the end, memories are all she keeps. It makes her tremble to think back, to remember how she thought their life would be. Her greatest regret – believing so much in their future. She used to build dreams about Bucky and now she can’t believe if she will ever do it again - she treads the icy path between Spring and Winter, slowly and cautiously, for fear of tripping and falling into the snow again, for fear of losing her dearest Spring. She feels the chill north winds coursing through her home, despite the locked and bolted doors…this is Winter, which nonetheless brings it's own delight – after Winter, Spring always comes next.

She spend so much time in my head and in her heart that she forgets to live in her body, not hearing someone entering.

“Pain and suffering are always inevitable for a large intelligence and a deep heart. The really great men must, I think, have great sadness on earth.”

She blinks at that line of the book, her mind lingering once again to Bucky…but when is a monster not a monster – oh, when you are the reason, it has become mangled…she remembers when those eyes said love loudly, now these walls so quietly shift towards her as he leans on the door frame stealthy, still not alerting her. She puts the book aside, deciding to wash her dishes – her vast inner solitude poisoning her whole existence, there is no dignity in loneliness. The worst moment, when sitting alone at dinner, she has forgotten the ocean eyes, the depth of his laugh, it all had faded into into the past, where memories are silent.

Winter brushes his hands along the hardwood of the door, tentatively waiting for a sign that she had noticed him in the doorway. Three knocks follow on the wooden frame and her shoulders are already quavering, he once again craved a bullet with her name on it, burning Bucky down and in the ashes left behind – coming to burn her.

She glances at the door behind her as she holds her arms wrapped around herself before turning around to face him. Winter seems so human with his genuine smile, nodding slowly when his presence is finally acknowledged. Rage explodes inside, fire rushing over her skin. Winter’s face is flooding with color by then, and she finds that the sight makes her feel refreshingly nostalgic – the shades of Bucky somehow showing.

Dem light plays upon his face, revealing gleaming eyes, a mouth pulled into a grin. Stillness wraps her up in a cold embrace, a chill running down her body as he speaks.

„I warned you and you didn’t listen“

Winter shifts closer, caging her to the counter.

"Oh no…“ she whispers brokenly.

She brakes into a sob she could not contain, hands wrestled free from his grasp and worked their way to shield herself. He grips her hips, drawing her close, and roughly presses his mouth to the soft, swollen lips. Soldat longed for her for so long, dreamed of it as one would of an impossible journey to the moon, and now? How would he ever let her go?

The winters are becoming longer, very monotonous. Spring does come eventually, but it feels so short, looking back – it is not much more than a coupe of days.

He steps back, his fist unclenching, urging her to see – Walker’s work badge. All of her paranoia which played complicated possible outcomes - what an utterly incomprehensible thing has happened - without delay, Winter plucks every vibrating string in her mind by choosing to mock her.

„I warned you“

„You fucking monster what have you done?! I hate you so much I wish they never created you! I want you gone so much it hurts.“

His heart becomes a shriveled rose, poisoned with death and petals fall with every word from her mouth, sending him into a bottomless pit of anger.

„I will tell him, I will tell Bucky the tru-“

If once one has recognized the truth and seen it, you know that it is the truth and that there is no other and there cannot be, whether you are asleep or awake.

The melodious ringing sounds of Bucky’s dog tag chimes deep into her soul – as he holds them in front of her – as if a funeral bell is ringing, pealing for one a last farewell.

„Bucky is no longer“ dressed in all black, he is giving the eulogy „We can bury him together“ he says with the intend to drop them on the floor, but she catches them.

Up in her conscience, it's making her nauseous, she shifts backwards momentarily, but there is no where to run. Instinctively, Winter tightens his hold on her waist, though he neither pushes her away nor pulls her closer – just grounds her in place when she tries to slide to the floor.

„No…it can’t be, I don’t believe it“ comes her unenlightening, despondent response.

„He never picked up the phone that day. It was me, doll“

Now it all began to fall into place. A poor, beautiful, tragic fool - he had thrown her hope away on a moment's false illusion, and she was paying dearly for it. With her hope, her love, her soul.

„No, you are lying“ she whispers brokenly, her voice trembling. She blinks at him, her eyes enormous pools of misery with wetness clinging to the lashes and collecting in the tender indentation above her top lip.

„Stop crying “ he licks the hollow of her throat. "It is getting annoying“ a long, slow lick up her throat "…цветок“ (flower)

And if it frightens and torments her to think of Bucky and the simplicity and silence that accompanies him – she still believes in the illusion that he is there, it’s life-giving.

His left hand slides up gently to cup her chin as he leans in and kisses her once more, and with all her strength that she could find, she slaps him across the face, forcing it to turn to the side. He murmurs her name low. She whispers „no’s“. Winter presses himself close, giving a hollow bark of laughter as his angry gaze searches hers. He feels the trembling woman in his arms, her breathing shallow and uneven, clearly overcome with emotions.

„Тебе лучше, моя куколка?“ (Feeling better, my doll?)

„Don’t you dare call me that“

From the desert of Bucky’s abandoned love, he dares mock her pain. Winter stares her down, watching every reaction as his hands memorizes her curves, groaning, his fingers clawing at her back and quite possibly tearing her shirt.

Bucky dreams - the trees, stripped of all foliage, are white and bone-dry, twisted and curved like desiccated skeletons. Smoke drifts up from the scorched soil that crunches under his feet. In the distance, there’s a hill where, on the other side, y/n stands waving at him. He quickens his steps. She is calling for him, her voice distant, desperate.

The smoke beneath his feet thickens, he is choking as he he is trying to find her.

The fog begins to thin.

He is no longer walking on stone or dirt, but on show.

Winter of the world has come, and her body is lying on the ground, thin layer of snow covering it.

He wakes up, covered in sweat, looking around and everything is so unfamiliar, it’s feasting off his fragile and confused being.

– and there she lies – – not dressed in snow, but in white sheets.

In the deepening grasp of reality, Bucky has no choice but to recognize the trembling in his own heart. A trembling ocean underneath his eyelids. The veil of sadness and shame – causes him to scream as he holds her body, awaiting her warmth.

„Y/n? Baby…what-t, where, baby come on wake up“

„Baby, please wake up, Jesus what happened…I can’t remem-“

But love unexplained is clearer.

She is still clinging on something, still clinging on hope – the dog tags – it seems that she wanted to pour out all her heart into his heart in hopes of waking him up – she loved him, she shall love him always, loving him more than life itself. “Much unhappiness has come into the world because of bewilderment and things left unsaid.” PART 4 ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Tag list @kaz11283 @montyrokz @queenashen @pandabearrrrrrr @depressed-gays-of-marvel @introverbatim @chocolatelovemusic @happinessinthebeing @goodkittyspost @venting402 @tilltheendofthelinepal9950 @lovelywritinglady @lady-loki-barnes-djarin @msoldier

[honey-minded-hivemind]

For Villain!Reader, I was imagining for their power/mutation/s to be something linked with mind control, pheromones, and possible some stingers or venom, like a bee or wasp or hornet. (They definitely have bee-like powers, and a mutation, but they don't have much proof at first to what their powers are based on). They never wanted powers, let alone the type they ended up having. They're unsure if anyone ever likes them for them, if any person around them will hurt them or abuse them, and fear they'll be used again by those who would hold power over them or blackmail them into doing their dirty work.

(WARNING: Mentions of self-harm, self-harm ideation, and abuse. Viewer discretion is advised...)

They thought they were insane, the first time they used their power, to protect themself from a thief or petty villain or abusive adult, only to find out they could see into that person's mind... Reader would spend the next several years defending thenself as they were used as a pawn by an older villain (an oc) who forced them into making minions, lest they kill another one of their family members. Reader hates their powers, but hates them even more. They've tried everything to rid themself of it, ripping stingers from their nail beds, bashing their head into walls, severing any connections in their mind to who they infected, no matter the pain or terror it caused them...

One day, though, heroes, maybe even other villains, show up, and go to take down their abusive boss... Reader watches from the shadows, doing their best to disengage traps and hunting down anyone who had darts full of their venom, or tests on their pheromones... The heroes do their best to stop this new and dangerous villain, but... lt seems no matter what they do, it doesn't faze their foe in the least. No matter what they throw at them, no matter their scheme or plan, it does nothing to stop this wicked villain... Until Reader comes up from behind them, a small shadow. Their powerful foe grins, saying how their most perfect minion has arrived-

Only to be scratched by sharp, gleaming stingers, dribbling bright venom into their bloodstream. They hiss, soon going into a violent meltdown, screaming at the top of their lungs. The heroes aren't sure what's going on, neither are the villains, but the moment they realize Reader's power had been used (they weren't aware what it was), they keep their distance, watching warily as their ultimate enemies screeches plans of vengeance and death. Reader escapes in the chaos, running as fast as they can so as not to be caught if someone followed them. The fires they set in the labs had grown, spreading soon to the halls, and the building was filling with smoke and ashes. They manage to find an exit, and prop it open, opening a few more around the building before they flee, escaping into the night.

The next few years they spend trying to rebuild their life, learning how to sever any mental connections (they can always hear the wails on the other end-), creating art and finding odd knick-knacks and old items to sell, getting a small job in a little coffee shop, where they can help put their OCD and hobbies to good use. It seems good, if only for awhile. It took them YEARS to finally shove out the voices, to take control, to try to free any caught up in what they did. The time doesn't lessen the pain of what happened to them, the loss of family, of friends, the self-mutilation done by their own hand, the hours spent crying alone, sleepless nights and endless days of trying to find a job, books, anything to give them something to start anew, to get a better life...

And all of that comes crashing down when they find out heroes are looking for their old alias.

Reader does their best to stay calm, working through trying to keep their head down and covering any hidden strings and threads that could lead to them. But apparently, it seems that that doesn't stop them from being discovered, someway, somehow...

Their confrontation is small, Reader staying tight-lipped in silence as the hero/es and/or villain/s remark that they've heard a lot about them, their exploits, what they did under their old boss... And reveal they know they're a kid. That they figured out what their powers did, from their defeated boss and those infected under them. And that they want to help them.

Reader would be wary, saying that they have no idea what they are talking about, who they've mentioned, and that the old alias they mentioned sounds better off dead. The hero/es/villain/s interrogating them eyes narrow, and they make a statement about keeping in touch. And just like that- they leave, stalking off, leaving Reader to their own devices. Reader is frightened, breaths wild and erratic, and they take the chance to hide, having a breakdown. After all those years, all that time- They were found. And if they weren't careful, they could be dragged back to face comeuppance for their past.

Over the next month, they have various heroes and villains approach, trying to coax them into talking, opening up conversations over their own past, some going as far as to say they aren't so different... They know where Reader is, going to where the coffee cafe they work at is to try whatever drinks and foods they make, making polite compliments on whatever they've tasted, having a delighted look when a coworker points out Reader made what they were trying. Even the thrift stores and antique malls they frequent, having a booth where they sell and trade their findings, even handmade items such as blankets, small plushies, ornaments and magnets, even paintings, they're there, ready to talk and try to catch them on their own. A few ask what they did to make them, others offer tips (words and change), and plenty of the heroes and villains buy some of their creations. (Especially bee-themed objects, as it reminds them of their old alias, whom some actually fought or chased on several occasions).

Reader eventually reaches a breaking point, where they pack up any useful items, all of their money, and whatever necessities they need, and go to leave where they've hidden out... Only to find they're being followed by the same people they were fleeing from. When they catch up, they point out they'd be happy to have Reader with them, that they certainly wouldn't mind a chase like the good ol' days... Reader shrieks and makes a run for the woods. They're scared out of their wits, they're being pursued by people who could have a grudge against them and want to use them, and don't have anywhere to hide. Getting cornered into a fight, they don't want to engage, but... They can't stay, and they sure as h*ck can't be caught.

And the moment their stingers are out, the platonic yan hero/es/villain/s are smiling, saying how they're glad their favorite little bee is getting back into the hang of it. When Reader goes to back out, quickly letting their stingers slide back into their nails, they can see the annoyance of the platonic yandere/s. Who point out they aren't afraid of a little sting, that they can take whatever Reader throws at them, so why not go ahead and let out some stress? When Reader backs away, trying to slip into the shadows, well-

The platonic yandere/s isn't/aren't having any of it.

"Come on, kid... I've tasted it before, and I'm not afraid of it. If anything... it feels pretty good. I've missed hearing you. So why not fix that?"

And that is how Reader learns (guesses correctly) how far their venom and pheromones had gone. It could let others, those stung or who inhaled/were injected hear THEM, as much as Reader heard them, becoming soft for them as they found out how they hated what they did, how they did their best to stop their boss' evil from the inside, how they hurt themself- And it seems plenty of them grew attached through a bond Reader hadn't realized they'd severed from their old foes...

"So, how about it, kid? Let's catch up, hmm?"

Which leads to Reader having to try to escape from a web they didn't even knew they'd weaved...

(Example of what the platonic yanderes went through (those infected or telepathic, anyway:

Reader desperately wants hugs and reassurance, is hurting due to ripping out their stingers again, and has been crying for the last three hours:😭💦💔🖤😫

Infected Platonic Yan Heroes: Kid, please just let us in! We can give you plenty of hugs! We can even throw in heated blankets and cookies! Just PLEASE stop doing this to yourself and let us in!

Infected Platonic Yan Villains: Bee, please open up the (mental) door! We don't want to have to hunt you down to strangle (hug) some sense into you! We can get rid of your boss! THAT would make you happy, right?! H*ll, that crazy *sshole is locked in a special prison only Fury, Wolverine, the Professor, and Iron Man know about! We can break in and break them, yeah?!

Telepaths who can hear all of this, and are unaffected: Oh sweet heavens, get a grip! And child, please, please calm down. We will try to find you (hopefully adopt you and give you therapy), just please take down your walls for only a minute!

Reader, feeling a headache at their mental block: slams it even harder, severing several connections and leaving those severed in pain

Platonic Yanderes (all of them): ... Well, it seems we need to pay our little friend a visit... Someone distract Fury while we go out-

Later

All the infected heroes, villains, and unaffected-but-concerned telepaths seeing each other at the train station:👀

Everyone: Who the F*CK told you about this?!)

Any ideas for Reader's old villain/anti-hero name? Maybe I can hold a poll for it?

[writingchalamet]

Set a Fire in My Heart

Summary: You live in the same building as Bucky and Sam always teases Bucky about going out with you, little does he know that you have feelings for him, and you end up taking him out to a 40's themed bar.

*Warnings - none, pure fluff, kissing, soft Bucky.

You could hear Bucky and Sam's distinct distinct laughter in the hallway of the apartment building as you neared the front door with your laundry basket. A small smile crept its way to your face as you heard Sam's muffled voice teasing Bucky about something, likely something that happened on a mission. You opened your door clutching the laundry basket against your hip, awkwardly bumping into the frame of the door as you squeezed passed. Bucky's head instantly raised as he noticed your door opening and came rushing to your aid, taking the basket from under your arm, "hey, let me get that" Your eyes met and there was a prolonged silence where the two of you just stared at each other, you were completely lost in his angelic blue eyes and all the breath left your body for a moment in pure bliss. He gave you a subtle smile as his flesh hand grazed over your taking the basket from your grip.

"Are you two gonna talk or just stare at each other like psychopaths?" Sam interjected himself, and you were awakened from your trance like state, you gained your breath back and smiled shaking your head. you hummed to yourself shortly, before greeting the pair "Hi" you smiled, Bucky returned the greeting and Sam nodded towards you silently laughing at how awkward the pair of you were.

-

It was no secret to those looking in that you and Bucky were head over heals for each other, which is why Sam could not understand why in the last year Bucky hadn't asked you out on a date. From the first second he saw you stepping out from the moving van carrying a box, he saw a light in his best friends eyes he had never seen before, and it just so happened you were moving in on the same floor just two doors down, Sam thought Bucky had hit the Jackpot. From that point on every time the two of you had seen each other neither one of you could really talk, too caught up in one another's eyes to say anything, which Sam found to be hilarious.

-

"How are you? I've not seen you for a while have you guys been on a mission?" you asked genuine concern laced in your voice, Bucky noticed your eyebrows arched with worry ever so slightly which he found adorable. "Yeah I'm good, we have been on a mission across Europe, nothing to major, all is well, how are you though?" - "sure if you call 10 guys in tactical gear trying to assassinate the president of France a 'non major threat' then sure we're all good!" Sam jumped in sarcastically, your eyes bulge and your mouth goes agape. Bucky gives Sam a light slap on his chest with his vibranium limb. "Are you really trying to downplay being a superhero Bucky?" you teased him with a cheeky smile. he goes to reply "I mean-" Sam interjects again "the answer is yes Buck, anyway you got any plans today y/n, or this weekend, or near future?" he hints nudging Bucky who clears his throat and looks to the ground. "no apart from doing my laundry, I actually have some annual leave so I'll just be chilling, hanging out." There was a brief pause where the three of you all looked back and forth between each other. "Umm well I guess I should get on with my laundry then..." Bucky smiles and hands you back your basket as your hands gently outstretch towards him. "It was nice seeing you both, I'm glad your mission went well, I'll see you later" you nod towards both the men giving them one last smile over your shoulder as you head towards the elevator.

as soon as you are out of ear shot Sam hits Bucky's chest, "What the hell man, she just basically begged you to ask her out!" Sam exclaimed arms flailing in the air, a pissed off expression clear on his face. "what no she didn't" Bucky shoots himself down. "Yes she did man! she explicitly told you she doesn't have anything going on for the foreseeable future, if that's not an invitation to ask her out on a date then I don't know what is!" Bucky continued to shake his head and started walking back towards his own apartment.

---

It was a few days later and all you had done on your time off was think about Bucky, you had given him so many opportunities to ask you on a date but he seemed to miss every single one. You initially figured it was to do with the fact that he was 106 years old and you were in your mid twenties but you could clearly see that he was attracted to you, from the way he looked at you to the way he acted around you, you had dated your fare share of people to understand what plain attraction looks like, but why wouldn't he ask you out, was he just as frightened of rejection as you? He had fought aliens, and helped saved the world from numerous threats but was too scared to ask out a girl so you thought you would bite the bullet and ask him on a date yourself. simple as that and if he says no, you only ever had to see him in the hallways.

You poured yourself a large glass of wine for liquid luck and downed it, giving yourself a glance over in the mirror, you fixed your hair and made your way into the hallway, taking in a deep breath as you reach his front door, you knock softly on his front door, part of brain praying it was too soft for him to hear to save yourself the pain if he says no, but to your luck, and Bucky's super soldier hearing he opens almost straight away. "Y/n are you okay?" he looks around the hallway to spot if there was any danger, you never knock on his door. "Yes Bucky, I'm good, very good actually, I wanted to ask if you umm... If you would like to go out with me this evening... on a date?" your face was so serious Bucky could not tell if this was a joke that Sam had put you up to. "Are you sure?" Bucky's response made your head tilt, you had never been asked if you were sure you really wanted to go on a date with someone you had asked out, you laughed out loud and shook your head, "I wouldn't have asked you if I wasn't sure" you smile up at him and see a blush rise from his neck up to his cheeks. It was a notion you had never seen from him before but one you would grow to love. "Yes, I would love to go out with you" he responds smiling, blush still very apparent on his cheeks. "Okay great, be ready for 8, I have somewhere in mind, dress smart, I'll see you later" with a rush of confidence you brazenly lean in and plant a kiss on his blushed cheeks which only make them burn hotter, you swiftly turn on your feet and practically run back to your apartment with your heart pounding from your chest. Bucky is just left stood at his door stunned, in disbelief that this is actually happening.

As soon as he steps back inside his apartment he reaches for his phone on the counter to call Sam. He hears the chimes of the phone ringing for a few moments before Sam finally answers "What's up cyborg!" HIs voice booms through the speakers, "You tell me Sam, have you been talking to Y/n over the last few days?" Bucky questions him "Y/n, what would I have to say to her?" "I don't know Sam, maybe encouraging her to ask me on a date?" Bucky sighs hoping his sabotaging thoughts were not a reality. "She asked you out!!! Oh wow, when, how, where, when, why?!" Sam practically screams down the phone, "well I'm trying to figure out the why now Sam, did you or did you not put her up to this?" Bucky burst out his frustration. "Man do you really think I would do that to you, no I did not tell her to ask you out, I've been telling you for months that she's into you too! please tell me you said yes?" there is a pause and Bucky lets out another sigh, this time of relief. "Yeah I said yes, we're going out tonight at 8... I'm sorry I accused you, I uh, just really like her and I'm in my head." he hears Sam chuckle from the other end of the phone "I know man, just promise me you'll have a good time"

---

7.59pm

Bucky waited promptly by his door fixing his cufflinks, nervously shaking his legs, he thought about going into the hallway to meet you, or to even knock on your door, but he didn't want to scare you off with his eagerness . The second the clock turned 8pm there was a soft knock on his front door, the truth is you had also been anxiously waiting in the hallway, counting down the minutes to tap on his door. He secretly appreciated your promptness, never much enjoying being later for anything. He opened the door to see you standing there, beautiful as ever he thought, hair cascading down in soft curls, half pinned up at one side with a tortoise patterned clip, a deep purple slip dress with a cowl back, it was simple but elegant you thought. Bucky admired you, his eyes drinking you all in, you just looked at him almost laughing as he continued to eye you up and down, he clearly appreciated the effort you had put in. "Hi" Bucky released a breath he didn't know he was holding as he leaned towards you and placed a soft kiss on your cheek, a smile instant on your face, "shall we head out?" Buck just nods in return and takes your hand.

Bucky is confused when you park your car by a convenience store and exit the car nodding your head excitedly for him to follow, he hears your car lock and thinks you must have to pick something up. You take his flesh hand once more and walk towards the worked behind the cash register, a youngish girl looks up from her phone and smiles at the pair of you. Bucky notices you slip her some money across the counter which he finds strange. he eyes the pair of you confused. "I'm looking for starlight, can you help me please?" Bucky is sure you're attempting to buy drugs for a moment in the most casual way possible and is bewildered by your ballsy attitude. "sure, ice cream freezer at the very back, mind the steps" the worker smiles and nods towards the back of the shop and goes back to scrolling though her phone, Bucky is still in utter confusion at the entire encounter. You squeeze Bucky's hand and give him a "come on" in encouragement, amused by his puzzled face.

You reach the Ice cream freezer door at the back of the shop and open the door towards you to reveal a dimly lit hallway and a set of stairs leading to a basement, you outstretch your hand signalling for Bucky to go first, he steps inside the freezer, which is not a freezer at all and walks down the hallway, you close the door behind you, as the pair of you begin to walk down the stairs the sound of 40's jazz music is muffled behind a door. Bucky's eyes begin to light up, you reach the bottom of the stairs and tap on the door in a certain rhythm and the door is opened for you, revealing a 1940's themed jazz bar, 'The Starlight Speakeasy' You smile as you look up to Bucky, his eyes almost filling with tears as he looks around the room in wonder. He knew these places existed but he never thought they would be this accurate, he felt like he had been transported back home, and he was 24 again off to war.

"Is this okay Bucky? I thought you'd like it, if it's too much we can go somewhere else?" you begin to ramble and he squeezes your hands, bringing them up to his chest, "this is more than perfect, thank you... now let me get you drink" he smiles and practically drags you to the bar. The warm crackle of the music playing through the speakers made you feel fuzzy and made Bucky feel at home, he ordered himself a beer and a glass of wine for you, he knows exactly what your favourite is after helping you carry your shopping up to your apartment many times, which made your heart flutter. "I bet it didn't cost you this much money for a drink back in the day" you laughed he shook his head "you wanna know how much a beer cost back then? not even a dime, like 4,5 cents" your eyes nearly fell out of your head "you're kidding right! that's insane, you must think everyone is trying to rob you with the cost of everything these days" Bucky only laughs and shakes his head. The pair of you find a table and sip your drinks, watching couples dancing, your head sways along to the music, and the pair of you chit chat. Bucky notices you sitting more on the edge of your seat, tapping your feet and he takes his chance, just then one of his favourite songs begins playing ' I don't want to set the world on fire' by the Ink Spots. Bucky stands and places his hand in front of your seated figure. You shyly place your hand in his and follow him to the dance floor.

He pulls you close and you instantly breath him in, he smells of cologne and the bitter beer he has been drinking, his flesh arm wraps around your waist and you hold onto his vibranium hand, you look up at him and see his eyes are closed, he looks peaceful, which is a sight you never want to leave your eyes. Your finger traces his finger to the palm of his hand and back to intertwine your fingers again. He opens his eyes at your touch, "Can you feel that, I read that Vibranium can take in kinetic energy does that mean you can still feel things with your hand?" your eyes met his in genuine wonder "I can, it's to do with the electrodes in my brain, but yeah I can feel things" after hearing this you took his hand and placed it against your cheek and leaned into it as you continued to sway. You could feel his pulse beating fast against your chest, he stroked your cheek and brushed his metal thumb across your soft lips, his hand stopped to softly grip your chin and pushed your head up slightly. Your eyes met briefly glancing between the baby blues and his pink lips, your breath hitched and he leaned it, catching your lips in a kiss. You nuzzled your nose against his after your short kiss before going back for more, his hand slid along your jaw holding just below your ear, his other arm tightening its grip, he opened his mouth encouraging you to deepen the kiss, you could feel his hot breath and the taste of bitter against his tongue as you deepened the kiss further. You wanted this moment to last forever but sadly you had to pull away to breathe. Bucky smiled and placed his hand back against your cheek brushing the blush that had risen.

"you have no idea how long I have wanted to do that" Bucky sighs out leaning his head down atop of yours. "oh believe me, I do" you giggle. The pair of you stayed like that for the rest of the night, continuing to dance, kiss, drink and talk the night away, it was the happiest Bucky had been for a very long time.

[littlespacereader]

It’s my Birthday!!🥳🎂🎉🎈🎁

It’s official I’m 3 years old today😂😂 Big year for me!😂😂 I’m really 24 and let me tell you, I’m still tired😂😂😂

Thank you to everyone who voted on the Birthday poll! I really really hope you enjoy this fic as much as I did writing it! The idea came to me while I was working and I couldn’t stop writing it after it won the poll! (Also I know the gif is the 14th Doctor but I like his smile in it😄)

Please enjoy and have a great weekend!!🥳🎂🎈🎁

A Birthday Wish💫🎂

Caregiver! 10th Doctor & GN Little! Reader (SFW!)

Tags - cupcakes, stuffies, surprises, happy tears, hugs, forehead kisses, the birthday you deserve!, presents, party games, the Doctor being the best cg ever, bops on the nose.

I closed the door and locked it on my way out of my apartment. Even as I walked up the stairs of my building I could hear my loud roommates and their friends yelling and shouting about some stupid ball game.

I shook my head and continued up. If there’s one thing I was going to have on my birthday, it was peace.

Once I reached the top of the building, I pushed the door open and walked onto the rooftop. Here, I got the best view of London and all the stars above.

I would come up here often, after a long day at work or to escape my loud roommates. It was nice, my own little hideaway. Just me, the stars and all of London.

I walked over to the little plastic table I had set up for night like these. I put my backpack into one chair and took a seat in the other.

Then I carefully pullout out the cupcake from my backpack and put it on the table. The icing was a bit messed up from its journey up to the roof, but it didn’t matter to me, a cupcake was a cupcake. I grabbed the candles and put the numbers onto the cake.

Then I just sat there, and stared at the number for a second. I hate getting older, the little side of me hates seeing the age I was actually turning when I felt much younger than I actually was…

I felt like screaming out loud, “I’m not older! I’m just a kid!” But who would listen? Who would care?

The sad answer is no one. My regression was kept hidden from everyone. It was just between me and my stuffies. Speaking of…

I grabbed my stuffed animal elephant out of my bag and and held her in my arms. She’s, of course, is invited to the party! Wouldn’t be one without her.

Then I grabbed my sippy cup and placed it on the table along with some plastic silverware for the cupcake. Once settled I looked back at the stupid numbers.

I mean, who needed a reminder of how old they’re turning? I picked the candles off the cupcake and threw them off to the side. I dug through my bag and found only one last candle left, one regular candle for my birthday wish.

I placed the candle into my cupcake and lit a match, lighting the candle up. A small glow from the fire illuminated me.

Truth was…I didn’t really know what to wish for at first. I didn’t really know, or believe anything would actually come true.

Looking up at the stars again, I took a deep breath and sighed. I guess it didn’t hurt to just wish for anything right? Even the impossible.

So with my eyes casted to the stars above me, I made my wish, “I wish I wasn’t alone, that someone knew and understood my regression and accepted me for it. I just don’t want to be alone anymore.”

With big breath in, I blew out the candle.

And nothing happened. As I expected. Just same old me, another year older.

I began peeling the small paper from around the cupcake, and began digging into the sweetness. That cupcake tasted amazing! But something caught my eyes from above.

I looked back up to the stars, back up to the one I had my eyes on when I wish. And it…moved?

I stood up, stuffie in my hand as I walked closer to get a better look at the star. It looked as though…it was spinning. Is that possible?!

For a moment I looked away, thinking maybe I was just seeing things, but then I looked back and sure enough that star was spinning. How is that happening?

Then I realized something else…that star was getting closer and closer. I couldn’t help but watch in wonder as the star spun and moved closer and closer earth, then to London, then…

That Star was coming straight for me! I snapped out of my wonder and ran! Dodging off to the side as the star slid onto the rooftop, coming to a stop on the other side.

I cautiously walked out of my hiding spot and looked over at the star…which I realize now isn’t a star…it’s a…box?!

A blue police box flew onto the roof and slid across it? How’s that-.

I slowly approach the box, looking at it with wonder. But just when I was about 2 feet away from it, the door flung open.

A man stepped out. Big smile on his face and a party hat on his head. All at once I realized something…

I’ve seen this man before.

~~~

**Flashback to this morning**

I stood and stared at the tall shelves of stuffed animals infront of me. The toy store wasn’t that busy in the morning hours which made it a nice peaceful visit as I chose my first ever birthday stuffie.

Of course I have plenty of stuffies at home, but this one would be special, it would be a birthday stuffie!

Problem was…there’s a lot of options. Every animal you could think of sat on the shelves infront of me. The choices were endless.

“Hard to pick huh?”

I turned around and saw a stranger walk up to me. He wore a long brown coat and a blue suit, and on his feet converse. He had a friendly smile as the walked over and admired the shelf with me.

“Yeah definitely hard to pick.” I replied, looking back to the shelves.

“Grabbing a gift for someone?” He asked.

“No, for myself actually.” I thought about it then added, “it’s umm, my birthday.”

“It’s your birthday?!! Happy birthday!!” The man lit up hearing me say.

“Thank you.” I couldn’t help but chuckle at the man’s enthusiasm.

“Then this is going to have to be a very important plush after all.” He focused back on the shelf. “Which one are you thinking?”

“I think I’ll get….this one!” I grabbed the elephant off the shelf and held her in my arms. She was perfect! Soft and a little weighted in her feet.

“Now that is a great choice!” He smiled back at me, the praise making my little side scream on the inside.

“What are you going to name it?” He asked.

I looked down at her and thought long and hard about it, “Lucky! Since elephants are lucky.”

“Lucky is a great name! Good thinking.” He praised again.

“Any other one you thinking of getting?” He liked back to the shelf.

I looked back too, my eyes settling on a particular lion stuffie. But then I realized I didn’t have enough money. I looked away and back at the man. “Not today, just her for now.” I smiled sadly.

“Well she will do fine! A nice strong elephant to keep you company.” He smiled back, shaking the elephants hand in my arms.

He looked at his watch before saying, “Oh, I’ve gotta run. I hope you have a great birthday!” He smiled before walking towards the front of the store.

“Wait,” I called back to him, stopping him in his tracks. “Thank you for the help picking a stuffed animal Mr…”

“Oh no Mr. It’s just The Doctor.” He replied with a smile. “And it was no problem at all. I rather enjoyed helping. You and Lucky have a great day and a happy birthday again to you kiddo.” And with that he turns and walk towards the cashier.

I stared back at him for a moment before turning back to the shelf. Did he call me kiddo?

He did…didn’t he….why? Maybe cause I’m younger than him? Or maybe…no. No. There was no way he could’ve known….

As I continued walking around the toy store I heard him talk briefly to the cashier before the bell at the door ding meaning he left. I looked around for a moment more, before I went to the cashier to pay for my elephant.

“Just this please.” I said, putting my elephant up on the counter and grabbing my wallet.

“No need, that gentleman in the long coat bought it for you.”

I stared at the cashier in shock. “What?”

“The man that was in here before. He paid for your elephant already. You’re good to go.”

The cashier turns to go do something else while I stand there frozen with shock. I took the elephant off the counter and walked out of the store.

I looked around for the kind man but didn’t see him anywhere. That was so nice of him to pay for my gift. I hadn’t even realized he went to go do that. What a Lucky Elephant my stuffie is!

I smile and give her a hug before I walk away, off to the next stop.

The next stop happens to be a bakery. I browse through the cake window at all the different cupcake selections they had on display. All of them looks sooooooo good.

“Order for Y/N.” The bakery woman called.

I stopped and lifted my head. That’s strange….maybe someone has the same name as me?

“Order for Y/N.” The woman calls again. “Birthday cupcake.”

I froze again in utterly shock. I raise my hand awkwardly. “I…I think that’s for me.”

I walked over to the counter and the baker read the description. “It says, Order for Y/N’s birthday. They should be wearing a red cardigan.”

I looked at myself as if I forgot I was wearing a red cardigan…because I did forget. “Oh…that’s me.”

She wraps the cupcake up and hands it to me. “Happy birthday!”

“Thank you, just one thing.” I stop the baker. “I didn’t order this.” I say honestly.

“A man came in here just a minute or two before you and he ordered it for you.” She explained.

“Did he have a brown coat and spiky kind of hair?” I ask again.

“Yeah, yeah he did. And he wore converse. Crazy looking dude.” The woman joked, “Enjoy your cupcake dear.” And with that she walked away.

I walked out of the bakery and took a deep breath. First the stuffie and now the cupcake. Who was this mystery man? And why was he being so extra kind to me? Most people just wished me a happy birthday but him? He went above and beyond.

The cupcake came with a note that read simply,

Make a good wish tonight!

- The Doctor

The Doctor? Was that seriously his name? I thought he was joking.

There was also something different about him. As I walked back to my apartment the man played on my mind. He felt like how a Caregiver should feel. Compassionate, gentle, patient and kind, amount other things, He called me kiddo and bought me a stuffie and a cupcake.

But now it was over…there was no way I was ever going to see him again after this…

~~~

Until now.

I stared back at the man in utter shock of the today’s events. But more so because a giant flying box almost hit me as it landed on the roof.

He leaned against the box and smiled back at me. “Y/N!! Happy Birthday!!”

“It’s you!” Was all I was able to say at the moment.

“It’s me!” He smiled back.

“You-You’re from the toy store…and the bakery…” My mind keeps racing through the thoughts. “And now…the sky?”

I could help but smile at everything. It was so impossibly crazy! There was no was any of this was real, yet here he stood in front of me. “How did you come from the sky? How doesn’t your box fly? How is any of this possible?!”

The Doctor smiled, slowly walking over to me. “Well when I realized a certain someone was celebrating their birthday alone. I couldn’t stand to see it. So I thought I’d come and visit.”

“I guess you could say I’m someone’s birthday wish.” He added with a smirk and a wink.

Birthday wish? I thought back to it: “I wish I wasn’t alone, that someone knew and understood my regression and accepted me for it.” The realization hit me.

“You’re a Caregiver too?”

“Yup.” He said popping the P at the end. “Isn’t that what you wish for? Not to be alone and for someone to take care of a certain little one?”

“Yeah… I just…I never believed it would actually happen.” I say back to him honestly.

“Well now, if you like it to happened, it can.” He starts to say. He takes his hands in mine and looks into my eyes, “I know we are still learning about each other but, I’d be happy to take care of you. Especially on a day like today.”

I stare back at him at first in complete disbelief, “You want to me my Caregiver?”

“I’d be honored to.” He smiles back.

I squeeze his hands in mine and nod, “I love that too.”

I let go of his hands for a moment and give him a hug. He immediately reciprocates, hugging me back with a tight protective hug. And all at once it feels as though all my issues and problems start to melt away as my regression takes the wheels.

The Doctor immediately sees the slight shift, his careful Caregiver eye catches it. “There you are sweet one. It’s time for you to relax and have the best birthday ever.”

He grabs a party hat from his pocket and leans forward putting it on my head. “There we are! Perfect for the party!”

“Party?” I ask confused. What party?

“I have everything set up already. All I need to do is bring Lucky of course and the most important person of all you!”

I stared up at him in disbelief, “You’re throwing me a birthday party?”

He took my hand in mine again, bring it up to place a kiss onto. “I’m so sorry you’ve had to celebrate any one of your birthday’s alone, but never again. Never while I’m here.”

“From now, you get the birthday you deserve.” He looked into my eyes and lead me by the hand to the blue box.

I followed along, holding onto his hand tightly as he lead the way to the flying blue box. “The party is in there?” There’s no way we’re fitting in there.

“You’ll see.” He winked before unlocking the door and pushing it open. He guided me to go first.

The moment I stepped inside my breath was taken away. “It’s-….I mean how is it? It’s smaller on the outside than inside!” I smiled, looking around the place on pure wonder.

“That’s…” The Doctor started to say, “I haven’t heard that one yet.” He chuckled.

Inside the main Tardis area had balloons and streamers all about. I turned and looked at The Doctor. “This is all for me?”

“This all for you!”. He smiled seeing my enjoyment.

I looked at the center console with wonder. “Does that fly the box?”

“Well it’s not actually a box. Think of that as a disguise. This is actually a space ship and Time Machine.” He explains on.

I looked at him baffled. “No it isn’t. Really?! That’s insane!!” I scream look back at the Tardis interior with wonder.

“It is a lot to take in isn’t it?” He jokes, walking back over.

A small wrapped box catches his eyes, “Oh I almost forgot!” He runs over and grabs the box.

“This, is for you darling.” He hands the blue wrapped box over to me.

“You got me a gift?”

“Of course I got you a gift! Why wouldn’t I?”

“But you bought me my elephant and the cupcake and this, this is enough of a gift in itself.” I gesture to the Tardis. “You didn’t have to...”

He caressed my face, holding my face in his hands, “Y/N, I wanted to. You deserve the universe and more.” He makes a point of saying before placing a kiss on my forehead.

“Now what are you waiting for?! Open it up!” He smiles.

I look back at him with tears in my eyes, before I go to unwrapping this gift, and its…..

“It’s the lion from the toy store.” I hop the stuffie up and look at the Doctor in disbelief.

“We couldn’t have Lucky go on without his friend now could we?” He wraps an arm around my shoulder and looks down at the lion. “Do you like it?”

“I love it!! Thank you!” I turn and give him another big hug, tears falling from my eyes.

“Awwww! You’re so welcome Y/N.” He hugs back, gently rubbing my back.

But the tears don’t stop coming, the day full of surprises starting to catch up with me. Immediately he looks worries and silently ask to pick me up, which I give a nod yes in reply.

He picked me up and holds me on his hip as if I weight nothing. “It’s a lot all at once isn’t it?”

I immediately rest my head on his shoulder, nodding and wiping my tears away.

“A lot of big things and a lot of new things. So why don’t we take a moment to just take a breath before we go on with the rest of the party?” He offers and I immediately nod to. That sounds nice.

The Doctor starts to walk around the Tardis console room holding me in his arms, lightly bouncing and rubbing my back. The gentle movements start to relax me more and more. It’s been a long day and now? I think I just had too many shocks at once.

But it was amazing that he right away recognized that and went to help me. He’s a great Caregiver. And he’s also my Caregiver. But I had to ask…

“Why me?” I asked softly.

“What’s that sweetheart?”

“Why me?” I lift my head and look into his eyes. “You said this is a spaceship right?”

“That’s right.”

“So in all of the Galaxy and all of earth and all of London you chose me. To not just be my friend but my Caregiver? Why me?”

“Why not you?” He smiled back. But he could tell I wanted more of an explanation.

“Alright, you want the truth? The truth is, I was back in London after traveling a while by myself and that’s when I stumbled upon you in the toy store. Seeing you so happy just picking out a stuffie made me forget for a moment all the loneliness I had. And hearing it was your birthday was just icing on the cake.” He ends with a wink, happy with his cleaver pun.

“The truth is, I’ve also never had anyone to celebrate my birthday with. I’ve always been a lone too. And I didn’t want you to have to go through that feeling, that pain.”

“So as I started to run around making a happy birthday for you, I realized something. This wasn’t just my normal self taking over, I could feel a side of myself that I haven’t felt in a while come out, my Caregiver side.”

“I haven’t seeing a little rascal like you in a long time.” He boops my nose, “So I knew I had to make it extra special. And by the end of it, I couldn’t think of my life without having you in it, to take care of, to joke with, to do anything with!”

“So that’s why, out of all the people in the galaxy, I chose Y.O.U.” We both smile.

“Now, the party has just begun! Are you ready?” He looks me in the eyes and I nod my head excitedly.

“Good! Let’s gooo!” He runs down the hallways with me in his arms. I giggle the whole way.

There’s a room in this Tardis that’s decorated to the T with party supplies and decorations. There we spend the rest of the night together. First we play party games, then we eat more cake, then we play even more games, all while I start to learn more about him and he learns about me.

He’s an alien….but he doesn’t look it. And he’s from another planet. He’s always known about age regression because on their planet it was something people did without judgement…unlike earth.

He’s always been a Caregiver and he’s used to have Littles who were his companions but they sadly left. And now he has me!

The night slowly starts to settle down. His long coat and jacket are off as he sit on the couch with me in his arms. I cuddle up close to him, half asleep with both stuffies in my arms.

“I don’t want it to end.” I whine, trying to fight off sleeping.

“Well this is a Time Machine…tomorrow we can go to your next birthday.” He suggest chuckling.

I smile to the idea but shake my head, “Maybe tomorrow we celebrate your birthday!”

“My birthday?”

“Yeah! That way you’re not alone.”

The thought brings a sad yet happy smile to the Doctor’s face. “I would absolutely love that Y/N. Thank you.” I swear I could see a tear or two in his eyes.

Together we stayed like that. Me relaxing in his lap, head pressed against his chest, stuffies in hand. While he held onto me tightly in his arms, as if he was going to lose me. But I was going nowhere, and nether was he.

The Caregiver and the Little. Or maybe a better name for us, the birthday Little and soon Birthday Caregiver. Together at least and for as long as time itself.

[megashadowdragon]

sanjis promise to kuma

Back in chapter 485, Sanji interrupted Zoro and Kuma as they were about to make a deal in exchange for letting Luffy go free. In this moment, Sanji swore that one day, he would be the one to cause the most trouble for the Navy and the World Government.

Ever since Bonney commented on Vegapunk turning Kuma in to a cyborg in chapter 1062, I have been wondering if this promise will come full circle in this arc. Oda has been slowly building on the parallels between Sanji and Kuma. But why?

Chapter 485 was titled for Zoro, and it led to the 'nothing happened' moment. Given how iconic and significant that has become, don't you think it's also significant that it's here that Sanji stepped in?

Could it be that Oda is preparing to give Sanji a moment that will parallel Zoro's 'nothing happened'? Is this how Sanji will fulfil the promise that he made to Kuma at Thriller Bark? Will his words to Zoro from Wano come around again?

Sanji has often before gone on solo missions and risked his own life in order to sabotage the enemy's plans. In Little Garden and Alabasta, he tricked Crocodile; and at Enies Lobby, he stole the cuff keys from Jabra, and sabotaged the Buster Call.

Now that Kuma has arrived at Egghead, and another Buster Call as been initiated, it seems like the perfect time for Sanji's promise from Thriller Bark to come full circle. But what role will he play? And how will it explain his parallels to Kuma?

Speaking of the parallels between Sanji and Kuma, this is a good time to mention 'the power of love.' What does Oda mean by this? And how does it connect to Kuma being able to maintain a fragment of his humanity?

This may explain why Kuma's instinct to protect his daughter was able to override or delay the process of his humanity being erased. I believe it also explains the significance of Sanji's parallels to Kuma, and how he will fulfil his promise from Thriller Bark.

The significance of the parallels between Sanji may be leading toward Sanji taking the risk of losing his humanity again. But how will we get to that? Before we get that far, how will Oda set it up?

When I was planning this thread, I wondered what moments from the past that Oda might parallel here. To start with, I believe Sanji will steal Kizaru's, just as he stole the keys from Jabra back at Enies Lobby.

Once Sanji has stolen Kizaru's intercept Transponder Snail, he will be able to listen in on and discover the enemy's plans. Sanji could even speak directly with the other Gorosei. Just as he did with Crocodile in Little Garden and Alabasta.

niji and the other vinsmokes had the ability to mimic other people's voices ( shown in wci) so sanji could mimic kizaru or saint saturns voice to obtain this info like how he pretended to be mr3

Just as Sanji sabotaged Enel's Ark Maxim in Skypiea, Sanji may also sabotage and destroy the Mother Flame power station. The parallels would even extend to Sanji addressed "God," and the theme of "a light."

Could Oda be building up to Sanji putting himself in front of a blast from the Mother Flame in oder to destroy it manually and prevent it from being fired again? It would continue the parallel of Sanji taking a direct hit from Enel after sabotaging the Ark Maxim.

How could Sanji survive such a thing? This would be where his genetic augmentations and altered Lineage Factors come back in to it. The enhanced durability and regeneration in particular would be relevant here. 'A step into the realm of Godhood.'

It's worth remembering that it was the discovery of Lineage Factors that led the World Government to arresting Vegapunk in the first place. They felt threatened by it. We've surely not yet seen the maximum potential of the Lineage Factor augmentations.

Speaking of the full potential of Sanji's power, I have spoken before about how I believe this progression and the attack names will be themed around the life cycle of a star.

I believe that this is how Sanji will fulfil his promise to Kuma from Thriller Bark, and become the one who causes the most trouble for the World Government. Sanji will risk his life and his humanity to destroy the Mother Flame power station, and sabotage the "Great Cleasing."

The key to Sanji's survival will likely be his genetic augmentations, but the key to him not losing his humanity in the effort is in the "Primal Desires." and the "Undying power of love."

[arvandus]

Thinking of the first time with Asmo and he breaks down a little because someone can finally look into his eyes and he can finally see love looking back.

Just imagine this happening in the NB time line and he spends thousands of years chasing the feeling, but never finding it until the exchange student can look at him with the attendants eyes.

Ohhh this broke my heart but in such a deliciously bittersweet way.

For all of his vanity, all of his desire, Asmodeus has always felt something missing. He could feel it when others gazed upon him with adoration, their eyes shining with hunger while he remained parched. It always confused him how he could be so attractive, so perfect, so desired and yet he still didn't feel fulfilled.

Perhaps it's the nature of Lust. It's fleeting, burning bright like kindling before fizzling down into ashes. He'd barely begun to feel its warmth before the cold would once again set in his bones, leaving him aching with unfulfilled want.

But kindling isn't enough to maintain a fire, is it? No, you require sticks, and logs... thick chunks that can burn long and steady throughout the cold night that was his life. There must be substance, resilience; a steadfastness that Asmodeus struggled to grasp, its comprehension always barely beyond his reach. If only he could touch it...

Asmo always knew something was missing. It was lacking in the eyes of his fanbase, his countless lovers. But most of all, it was lacking within himself. It was his darkest secret, the one thing he struggled to ignore every time he stared at himself in the mirror marveling at his beauty. Yes, he was beautiful. He would fuck himself any day of the week. And yet, when he stared into his own eyes, he only saw emptiness staring back, the strength to burn bright and steadfast absent from his own gaze.

Lust is easy. But love? How does one love? More importantly, how does one love themselves?

So imagine the utter shock when Asmodeus has you spread out beneath him, his body linked to yours in ecstasy, and you stare up at him with that heat that he's always longed for. It's deep, and rich, and solid, and suddenly he's sinking into it, a tree growing its roots to pull the nutrients from the rich soil of your heart.

It would terrify him at first... it would feel like drowning, like sinking into quicksand, and he fears he'll lose himself in it, be consumed by it until there's nothing left of him. He's a bird trapped in flight, searching for a place to land after a heavy flood.

Is it safe?

Is it going to last?

Can he build a home here?

It's hard to believe, and at first he will resist. After all, you were hardwood; strong, timeless. He was dry leaves, crumbling and temporary. How could he possibly keep up with you? How does lust turn into love?

A fire cannot start without kindling, and it cannot last without twigs and branches.

And it's not until your fingers brush aside his bangs, that your soft words of love fall from your lips that he begins to understand. That sense of emptiness fades, replaced with lushness, deep and rich. And he realizes that perhaps he's not just filled with dead leaves and twigs after all. There's something more, something strong within himself that was neglected, but not yet dead. After all, fallen leaves have to come from somewhere, don't they? Perhaps he'd been so focused on what he'd lost that he'd forgotten what he still had.

It alters him, changing him like the coming and going of the seasons. What was once winter is now spring, beauty growing within himself in places he'd forgotten, dark crevices within himself that felt the warmth of your sunlight for the first time.

But like the seasons, nothing lasts forever. And when you leave him to return home, the winter within him will fall heavier, darker, colder than ever before. Because he'd finally had a taste of spring, and you'd taken it with you when you left.

You said you loved him... you showed him so many times.

And yet, you still left.

Every fire dies eventually...

The loss of you and the love you gave will make Asmodeus that much more desperate, that much more hungry. Over and over, he'll chase the lust, the desire, in the hopes that he'll find it again, and yet it never comes. It makes him mad, insane, and he loses himself to it, chasing the memory of a feeling long since gone. The memories of you grow dim. First, he forgets the sound of your voice. Then the feel of your skin. Over time, the details of your face become hazy and vague. The only thing left is the memory of your eyes, the way they would look at him with love. He clings to it desperately, like a driftwood.

It's not until thousands of years later that he sees that look again, warm and familiar behind eyes he swore he'd never forget. The realization destroys him and rebuilds him, like a phoenix born from the ashes of his memories.

You were here.

And you still loved him.