#everyone from ghost eyes is an honorable mention

[boolger]

A lapdog at a farm - chapter 2

<-former chapter ~ AO3 link I will block any ageless blogs. Call of duty. Explicit, 18+, minors do not interact. read the tags. wc: 6181.

Farmer!John Price x Hybrid!Reader, hybrid! Kyle Gaz Garrick x hybrid! Johnny Soap MacTavish x hybrid! Simon Ghost, John Price x Nikolai.

tags: Rape/non-con elements, dub-con, dog!hybrid!people being kept as pets, alternative universe - farm, dark, farmer!John Price, working-dogs, punishments, mating cycles/rut/heat (no omegaverse), the dove isn't dead but its dying, reader is a brat, knotting, animal tails and ears, mentions of trauma, violence, angst, hurt/comfort, collars, rough sex, breeding kink, biting, threesome, foursome, everyone is fucking your honor, enemies to lovers, chubby reader, reader has a pussy

Author's note: reminder that reader is kinda a bitch at some points, thinking mean, unjustified things about our 141 once in a while. Unreliable narrators, my sinner. Apologies for any grammatical errors , the bad russian and such. So uh, this got waaay longer than intended so here you go. It will be a couple of days before the next chapter, so enjoy this snack for u all, my sinners.

chapter 2: Delivery from the Hybrid's Den!

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

“I have a friend coming over for a while,” John softly said next morning, hand resting on your head, fingers stroking your long ears now and again,, “to help us with getting the boys settled.”

You were on the floor, half way beneath the kitchen table, snuggled up against Price’s leg, feeling much more needy, knowing the ‘boys’ as your owner called them, would be delivered later today or tomorrow. They needed to be chipped and Price had asked for a full health check from his vet, as well as vaccinations and dental care. John was a caring owner; the mere fact that he did this from the get go was proof of that. He had done the same when getting you, made sure that any recent wounds or scarring were taken care of - getting your teeth fixed and your nails checked.

You didn’t have much of your fangs left when he got you; your earlier owners had taken those, the memories still haunting you once in a while. They had done it without anesthesia, not even by professionals. Same with your claws, that wasn’t beneath your nails anymore, thanks to former owners as well. Price had gotten the wounds cleaned and fixed up; they had almost grown closed by now. For most of the time that you lived with John, he had made sure your nails were always done nicely, however you wanted them.

John was a good master. You loved him, more than you knew you should, desperate for his attention, acknowledgment and praise. You didn’t want to share him, not with these hounds he had decided to get…

… not with this apparent friend.

You didn’t answer with anything but a displeased sound, tightening your grip on Price’s pants; when he offered you another piece of sausage you were quick to eat it, licking at his fingers while he chuckled. For a moment your tail wagged, eating the food and pressing against his hand.

He couldn’t be serious - abruptly changing so many things? and you were just supposed to accept it? Finally, you replied.

“Do I know your friend?” You didn’t bother to seem excited in any way, your skepticism seeping into your voice like poison. Price took another sip of his tea, not commenting on it.

“You’ve met him before but it’s been years. First year I had you, I reckon. Remember Nikolai?” 

Nikolai. Nikolai. Different faces flashed for your eyes, trying to pinpoint who you had met that bore that name. 

“No,” you finally admitted.

“Can’t blame you, lass. You were a little mess when you met him.”

You let out a huff at his words, embarrassment making your toes curl. It was true, your mind was muddled when it came to the first half year or so together with Price. You had been wary of every single person, desperately acting out and having to wear a muzzle, slowly getting used to the gentleness and rules of John. How he was fair and didn’t change his rules, didn’t punish you without reason.

You heard the front door open, ears peeking up a little, a small bark leaving you on instinct.

“‘Morning,” Laswell called out, making you settle again with a huff. While Laswell was strict and sometimes a meanie, she wasn’t a threat. Only to you and John’s private time.

“Good morning,” John called out, “I’ve made coffee.”

“Ugh if I wasn’t a lesbian I would marry you,” Kate groaned happily, by now so comfortable with John that she simply moved to take a cup in the cupboard, helping herself to the coffee and some food. They had known each other when younger, that was all you knew. Their stories always changed when you asked.

“Morning puppy,” she greeted, leaning over to give you a small pat that you leaned into, tail wagging once more, “are you going to misbehave again today?”

“Hopefully not,” John hummed, picking up his tea cup once more, “Nikolai is arriving in a couple of hours.”

“Ah, your old crush,” Laswell mused happily as she sat down across the table, once again making you wonder how long they had known each other, “going to pull yourself together this time?”

Wait. Crush… crush? Your head whipped up to look at your owner and oh fucking hell, John fucking Price was blushing. You huffed, clearly not pleased at all with this new knowledge.

Wonderful, wasn’t that just fucking wonderful? Now he was going to abandon you fully, to run around being a lovesick puppy and playing with the new hybrids.

“Don’t tease me,” John answered, clearly embarrassed, a rare sight indeed, “that’s none of your business.”

Kate just laughed. You let out a grumble, trying to snuggle even closer to Price, practically clinging to his leg by now. Price returned his hand to your head, petting you once more, looking down at you. You returned his gaze, doing your best puppy eyes, letting out a little whine. He smiled at you, his other hand scratching you beneath your chin.

“It’s been years,” he mused and you were pretty sure that he wasn’t even talking to you, “he had to return to Russia. His mother passed away.”

Russia? A memory appeared in your mind. A small party. Champagne, treats. Praise from Price’s friends and colleagues, attention and love that you had basked in. Other hybrids that sent you longing and lustful looks. A tall, broad man with a loud laugh and a strong accent. Wearing a gold chain. Long hair, rough hands when he scratched you. He would almost make your owner shy with his teasing but he would shower you in love.

“Did I meet him at a party once?” You asked, “big guy, strong accent ? Wearing a gold chain?”

John laughed, “yes, that would indeed be Nikolai.”

Huh. It was not much you could remember about him. You remembered liking him, but despite that, you weren’t really interested in him getting here.

“He is going to help with Soap, Ghost and Gaz,” John then said, almost as if to convince himself that was why he was here. You rolled your eyes at their names. Not that you had any say, you were usually just called different pet names, but you no longer bore the name your mother had once given you. It wasn’t unusual for pets to get their names changed with every new owner. Your legal hybrid name, with John, was Daisy, even though the man rarely ever called you that. He called you so many other names, Princess, Darling, Sweetheart, Birdie and so on. But apparently he had decided not to change these working dogs’ names.

“Sure,” Kate answered with amusement in her voice, taking another sip of the coffee before adding, “whatever you say.”

Price didn’t answer with anything but an annoyed grumble.

“Those are stupid names,” you muttered. A sharp tug on your ear made you yelp, one of your hands grabbing onto his wrist to get him to let go of your furry ear. 

“Be nice, Princess. You’re going to behave, am I understood?” You didn’t meet his eyes, a little whine merely escaped from you.

“She just needs to be shown her place,” Laswell carefully said, John not letting go of your ear, much to your dismay, but he didn’t tug on it - just kept it there as a warning, “maybe they’re better at that.”

“Hopefully they’ll be better at it than me,” he muttered and you whined - the grip didn’t loosen and he didn’t look down at you.

“Nikolai is going to help with that too?” 

“He had ideas, at least.”

Fucking wonderful.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Nikolai was the first of the four men that you already hated, to arrive. 

You stayed inside the house, watching John appear from one of the stables, almost lighting up at the sight of the man who exited the car.

He still looked like the old memory you had of him; big, long black hair and a grin on his face. He was taller than John but not by much, Almost seeming completely opposite to your owner. While John wore working clothes, a grey T-shirt beneath his blue flannel, dirt on his pants, Nikolai was wearing a pair of blue jeans, white T-shirt and leather jacket.

Even inside the house, you could hear the booming man that was Nikolai - he greeted your owner with a loud “John!”, before hugging him, even spinning him around. You couldn’t help but stare; John was far from small but the other man had swung him around like he had been a teenage girl. 

John was blushing like one too. The sight made you curious - just like you wondered how he and Kate met, you wondered how this Nikolai met your owner.

You couldn’t help but wag your tail at how happy they looked. Despite how you hated the idea of the man staying here, even just for a little while, you liked seeing John happy like this.

Then two pairs of eyes suddenly looked directly into the window, both staring at you. It made your ears tip back a little. Your tail kept wagging, eating up the attention. 

When they moved, you moved too - rushing towards the entrance, stopping in the doorframe to the living room. 

“My my, if it isn’t the famous puppy,” Nikolai mused, his Russian accent strong, eyes almost twinkling as he looked you up and down, “up to trouble, da?”

You huffed, crossing your arms, though you felt your tail betray you by wagging a little, “I’m never up to trouble.”

Both of the men laughed, making you growl a little. 

“Unruly - just like last time I met you!” Nikolai mused, looking over at John by his side, “you gave up on training?”

John shook his head, “don’t even get me started, mate.”

“You told enough over phone,” Nikolai answered, waving his hand at John while pushing his shoes off with his feet.

Ah. So he had talked about you with Nikolai already? The fact made you scrunch your nose a little. Maybe Nikolai was just as stupid as John when it came to realizing why you were upset.

Nikolai stepped into your personal sphere with no warning, almost backing you up against the door frame, making you panic and growl a little. Tail no longer wagging - you could see John tense up in the corner of your eye, but you were too distracted by the stranger.

“Nik—“

A part of you expected him to hit you - you had met plenty of strangers with your former owners, who didn’t even let you sniff their hand or anything. Some hurting you and —

He offered his hand. It didn’t hit you, but raised to your nose instead. You squinted at him, before taking a couple of sniffs, still not quite sure what to make of him.

“Don’t like you,” you growled in warning, showing your teeth a little, not even attempting to be polite. 

“You don’t like farm life yet, puppy?” He asked, tipping his head to the side, voice demeaning, stupid smile still on his face. You wanted to slap it off his face. “Stupid little puppy.”

Instead you chomped down on his hand, Price instantly scolding out your name, moving to drag you away. But Nikolai didn’t even flinch - didn't move besides laughing again. 

It made both you and John confused.

“If you want to hurt me, you would have to bite harder, Princess,” Nikolai crooned, “now let go.”

You wanted to piss in his shoes and rip his socks to pieces. Maybe scratch up that leather jacket of his. Yet you found yourself letting go of him, your teeth barely even having made a dent in his skin.

“Get your ass into your room,” John hissed, a redness in his skin that you weren’t sure came from embarrassment or anger from your action.

“No harm done, John,” Nikolai laughed; he scratched you behind your right ear, just a tad to the left and it was like your brain melted for a couple of seconds, your body reacted on its own, tail wagging and right leg moving as well, “she just attempt to be dangerous no?”

John let out a small sound that you weren’t sure  what to make of before he grabbed you by the collar and dragged you away from Nikolai, “and that’s the kind of behaviour I don’t want.”

“He was being mean,” you whined in self defense, unable to not follow the hand dragging you into the living room, “he almost dared me to!”

Perhaps an overstatement, but you already knew what was going to happen the moment that Price pushed you over the armrest of the couch, “I bit him to defend myself!”

“You will not, and I repeat myself, not bite my guests,” he pulled up your skirt and down your panties with such a quick movement that you didn’t get to point out that you didn’t care, one hand grabbing your tail; his other hand collided with your ass cheeks, once, twice and then a third time, before he snapped out, “got it?”

A defiant bark left you, because while you knew it was bad behavior, you also wanted to prove that you weren’t afraid of this Nikolai. You twisted a little, knowing your ass and pussy was basically on display for both men. 

The grip on your tail tightened making you cringe with pain, jaw tensing.

“Apologise.”

You shook your head in defiance, ears hitting your face. Price leant over you a little, hissing out, “I would advise you to apologize, princess. Now.”

A part of you knew he was upset because he liked Nikolai. If he actually had feelings for him, as Kate had pointed out and several things pointed towards, you knew he wouldn’t like being embarrassed too much. Your ass still stung a little.

You were the actual victim here, weren’t you? It wasn’t your fault he decided to change everything you loved and then accept that he had his lost love over, who immediately tried to push your buttons.

“‘m sorry,” you mumbled after two seconds.

“Louder.” John demanded, straightening up, so that you were no longer hidden.

"I'm sorry."

There was silence for a moment - then the sound of a lighter and as you dared to glance over at the bigger man, who was leaning against the door frame, you saw him staring right back at you, a lit cigarette now between his lips.

“Is okay, Lapochka.” He said, stupid smile still on his face.

With that John finally let go off your tail, pulling up your underwear and your skirt down, ignoring your whine. He didn’t even touch your pussy! Didn’t even give you some love!

You pouted as you looked over at them, sliding down from the armrest of the couch, hands going beneath your skirt to rest against your warm skin on your cheeks.

“Sorry Nik,” John once again apologized - as if it was him who John had just spanked! The audacity! You let out a little displeased bark.

“She usually doesn’t bite people,” he continued as he ushered Nikolai as if you weren’t right there, needing love and attention.

“Is okay,” Nikolai answered with a shrug, casting one last glance over at you, smirking for just a second, “some of it was my fault - wanted to see what she would do.”

Asshole.

“Room, princess - now.”

“But he literally ju—“

“I said now.”

“You’re being so fucking mea—“

“Crate then.”

“I’m going, I’m going.” You might have slammed the door to your room, growling as you plopped down on your big fuzzy dog bed. 

It was about 30 minutes later than you dared to wander from the room to the kitchen again, standing in the doorway, watching the two men talk. Eyes moved to watch you again, as you whined and got on your knees. crawling to the two men, shamefully settling between Price’s legs on your knees - tail carefully wagging, sending your owner a pitiful glance.

“‘m sorry,” you whimpered, knowing John was easy to sweeten up, “‘m sorry, sir.”

A hand moved down to scratch you, though it wasn’t John’s-  you carefully licked his hand, a pleased rumble leaving the guest.

“Smart one,” he muttered, giving your cheek a little pinch, “knows how to be sweet, da?”

“Always,” John answered, looking down at you with his usual loving eyes, “soft lass is hard  to stay mad at.”

“Perhaps you need some more company,” Nikolai pointed out, “I worked with military pets before, they’re much different than you, milaya.”

“We don’t need them,” you whined, having no idea what Nikolai had just called you, “John will forget about me, will be too busy, he –”

John’s foot ever so gently pushed against your stomach, “don’t start that again.”

“Just insecure,” Nikolai suggested, making you huff.

“Am not,” you argued, but you still nuzzled closer to John, starting to move your hands to his inner thighs, moving to look up the best you could, looking from under the edge of the table, sweetening your voice a little, “It’s just a mistake, that’s all.”

“Spoiled, that’s what you are, darling,” John pointed out, but he still reached out to gently pat your head, “however, the boys will be here in a couple of hours and there is nothing you can do about it.”

You whined pitifully at his words, upset that your clear dissatisfaction with them joining the farm wasn’t clear. It was like John didn’t want to realize at all that he didn’t need to stay out on this farm. He needed to go back to the city, to the fancy penthouse apartment, to the parties that lasted out to the late hours of the night, where you could gossip with all the other hybrids.

“Milaya,” Nikolai repeated again, rustling with something in his jacket that hung over the back of the chair he was currently sitting on, pulling a little package from it. You watched curiously, though trying to seem disinterested. That was until he opened it and the most wonderful, mouthwatering scent you had smelled in a while appeared and you instantly moved from between John’s legs to Nikolai’s, making your owner chuckle.

The piece of jerky looking meat that Nikolai held in between his thumb and pointer finger, looked simple but oh the smell of it made it known that it was good.

“You behave and let us look through papers now, da?” 

“Yes,” you said, unable to look away or stop your tail from wagging, “I’ll behave.” 

The moment Nikolai offered you the piece, you were on it, barely missing his fingers with your teeth as you stole it from his grip. Nikolai was chuckling, putting the bag back into his jacket, while you chewed, a pleased moan leaving you as you settled beneath the table. 

Hopefully these mutts would prove themselves too difficult - so that John would send them away again. You would happily wave goodbye to them. 

With the sweet aftertaste of the meat in your mouth and their soft voices discussing fences, you closed your eyes.

You weren’t going to help with the pack settling in - that was for sure.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

You barely got used to your owner’s crush, before there were once again new things happening. Kate appeared, greeting Nikolai like an old friend as well. You hadn’t figured out much about the man, other than he had worked with a lot of hybrids throughout the years. And with helicopters. However that all fit together, you didn’t know… didn’t really care.

The big truck that arrived a couple of hours later, stood out against the farm houses; a colorful logo was painted on the otherwise steel gray vehicle.

THE HYBRID’S DEN! helping owners find their perfect hybrid pet since 1960!

You remembered seeing their logos everywhere when you were sold to the auction, years ago. The auction houses and facilities had often felt like an intermission from your former life to your new; never knowing what was going to happen, treated with the minimal care, but kept healthy enough for the auctions. 

The staff wore the colorful logo on their black uniforms, exciting the truck a few moments later. You almost wanted to tell them to ‘get the fuck back into that truck and drive off’ again, but you figured it wouldn’t result in them actually doing so.

You kept your distance, standing on the steps of the front door - strategically keeping Nikolai between you and the closed metal crates that were inside the truck. There were nothing more than a few air holes in the boxes, from where some different sounds appeared. Barks and a growl or two, though they all sounded a little slurred. Nikolai moved, giving you a better look at them, as he joined John who was nodding along to some of the information, while looking through and signing some papers. Though you were mostly distracted by the crates, you could hear some of their conversation, catching words like sedated, muzzles, stressed. Your own trip hadn’t been nice either but a part of you wanted to point out to your owner that this only proved your point of this being a bad idea.

Some of the auction workers helped move the crates to one of the bigger empty sheds that Price had apparently been renovating without your knowledge. So apparently not so empty any longer. Not that it had been hard to do that, you ignored most of the different renovating and building jobs that both John and the helpers did.

Still… he could have told you. God, did your master tell you nothing anymore? It didn’t really help your mood, your growing annoyance clearly amusing for Nikolai if his smiles back at you were anything to go by.

Despite your repeated frustration with this entire situation and these new hybrids’ mere existence, you followed along inside the shed. It was nice… Isolated, with a tiny bathroom, an area padded with mattresses, which was clearly for them to sleep together, pillows, blankets… you wanted that too. Sure, you had loads, but this only made you want more, want more from Price, so that he could prove he still loved you. 

There was a radiator, several windows, lamps and electricity outlets. You scrunch your nose with displeasure. They didn’t deserve that. At least they weren’t inside the main house. 

There was a little notch in the other corner opposite the bed area, almost like a tiny expansion, another door next to it; it was almost like a small horse stall - a deep layer of hay covered the floor. You didn’t even step into the place, but you knew the hay would itch.

You wanted it. Not the itching of the hay, but the entire place, simply for the sake of having it, so that they couldn’t. Speaking of them, you watched from the main entrance as the metal boxes were opened.

The Belgian malinois and German Shepherd mix was the first one to stumble out of the box; he fell two steps later, directly into the hay, a deep sigh leaving him, eyes darting around. You could barely see him from the amount of people inside the stall. 

“It’s alright, Gaz,” Price comforted, while you stayed in the door, keeping his distance to the hybrid, “You’re okay, boy.”

Gaz didn’t answer, just panted a little, ears tipped backwards - his eyes looked a little blown from what you could see.

“When will the sedatives wear off?” Laswell asked one of the workers, but you didn’t look at them, eyes instead at the other hybrid. 

When you had arrived, you had been scared and angry, drugged as well. But you had been alone. While you grew up with your parents, in a nice enough place, you hadn’t seen them for years - and while you had befriended a lot of other hybrids throughout the years, you had never been a part of a “pack”. You were alone — but this Gaz wasn’t and a part of you envied him, even for that.

“In an hour or two,” the worker replied, pulling you from your deeper thoughts, “they weren’t too happy to settle down before we left. It was necessary.”

A small bark left the man in the hay. It was answered by the two other hybrids, who still hadn’t come out of their respective boxes. Nikolai gently tapped on the top of one of the boxes with a knuckle.

“Come join your friend,” the Russian suggested, voice not as loud as earlier.

A moment later the border collie mix, Soap, crawled out of his box, eyes instantly on Gaz, letting himself lay halfway on top of the other. A little growl leaving him, muffled from behind the mask. Not even a second later, Ghost got out of the last crate. The Great Pyrenees almost got on his legs, growling despite the muzzle and swaying from the drugs.

You watched the staff pull back the metal boxes, letting the hybrids get some space. Ghost didn’t stay on his legs for too long, eventually sitting down next to his pack mates, the lower half of his face hidden from view as he looked around the shed.

His gaze stopped at you; you were unable to sense the reaction from seeing you again, if there even was any.

“We’ll let you have some minutes, okay? Then we’ll take the muzzles off.” John gently offered, pulling the giant from the moment, so that he looked away, giving Price a small nod. Your owner was at the edge of the hay filled area but he didn’t step into it.

You stepped back, letting the staff members from the auction pull away the boxes, Laswell and another farm worker helping them. Nikolai looked from the pack, then over his shoulder at you, barely even trying to hide a smile.

Then he winked. You sent him an unimpressed look back, tipping your chin up a little, looking away from the three hybrids in the hay, pretending you weren’t curious about them.

Some more rustling in the hay and then a half croaked, “mah held hurts,” left Soap, voice a little slurred - you couldn’t help but look over at him. His accent was weird. His ears were tipped down, some hay already stuck in his hair. With the pathetic look on his face you didn’t understand how he was supposed to be a big bad soldier.

You weren’t being petty at all.

“It’s the sedatives,” John calmly answered the hybrid, who let out a big breath from behind the muzzle.

“If I take the muzzle off, will you behave?”

“We have water for you,” Nikolai added, keeping his distance - you kept him in between you and the dogs, not risking anything. You trusted the men to be able to defend themselves. But with no claws or fangs, you weren’t a fighter - more a runner. Even if you didn’t like running.

The two muzzled ones, Soap and Ghost, sent each other a look - but it was Gaz, half hidden beneath Soap, who let out a tired “please.”

Ghost gave a small nod then. John stepped into the hay, unhurried as to not spook them, and it was Ghost who tipped his head down first to let Price open the lock with a small key. The moment he was free, he smacked his cracked and dry looking lips. 

Clearly, the man had never heard of chapstick.

Though, much more apparent, where the colony of scars on his lower half of the face. Trailing from around the lips, one over the nose as well - cheeks and chin. As he smacked his lips, you saw he had lost a fang in the bottom of his mouth. It wasn’t just sanded down like yours, the tooth was fully missing.

Price repeated the action with Soap, the hybrid instantly opening his mouth wide with a yawn, his jaw even making a popping wound.

Nikolai appeared with three bottles of water from a little cooler in the shed - you didn’t have your own cooler, which meant you would be demanding one… not that you needed it but still — giving the hybrids each one, that was always immediately opened. Gaz pushed Soap away and sat up too, while John backed away.

“My name is John Price -we met shortly at the auction. I’m the owner of the farm and you will all answer to me. Got it?”

“Yes sir.” For a moment you were impressed with the three hybrids’ synchronized answers. Only a short moment however. They were probably just beasts trained to answer like that. Yeah, yeah, you could do that too, if you wanted. But you didn’t.

“This is Nikolai, my friend, he will stay with me for a while, helping you all to settle in properly. You will follow his orders too - as well as a mean looking woman, Kate Laswell, who will appear at some point.” Humour tipped into the last part making Soap snort and Gaz give out a half-slurred giggle, while Ghost just let out a grunt.

“And this,” Price suddenly turned over to you, looking a little amused from the distance you kept between all of them, “is my pet, Daisy.” 

“Well hellooo, bonnie lass,” Soap said, his tail immediately wagging, grinning at you, as he slurred, “aren’t ye a sight for sore eyes.”

Nikolai and John dared to laugh at his words, his rather pathetic attempt at being charming, while you growled, watching Soap get an elbow in the side from Gaz, while Simon just stared, almost differently than the scot, like a hungry beast. If you were fully inside the shed, you might be able to smell if they were turned on. Disgusting. 

“Come’ere, sweetheart,” John crooned, clearly pleased with the reactions from the men, while you scrunch your nose, tipping your chin up a little - giving it a shake to reject the command.

“Do not be like that, milaya,” Nikolai suggested, “thought you were going to behave, no?”

You just growled a little again, unable to help your tail go between your legs a little; you didn’t really want to be spanked again, but you didn’t really want to become acquainted with these hybrids either.

“My princess isn’t too pleased with you lot being here,” John calmly explained without taking his eyes off you - they were still all staring at you - as John raised a hand, making a ‘come-hither’ motion that had you swallowing some spit, “but she isn’t going to chase away any wolves, are ye, pet?”

You huffed, crossing your arms before stepping inside the shed. The scent in there was nice and clean, even with the vague scent of the newcomers, and you walked to John, stopping halfway hidden by him.

However, as John’s arm snaked around your soft waist in a strong grip, you whimpered as you were pulled forward a little, unable to hide behind him. Both Gaz and Soap were wagging their tails at you, while you tried ignoring the scent of the room the best you can.

“I’m expecting you all to get along - and not hurt each other too badly, understood?”

While the others answered in agreement you just hid your face in his shoulder, twisting a little in his grip.

“No playin’ too rough,” Nikolai added, “Puppy isn’t used to other hybrids.”

“I am!” you snapped, “Just not…”

The shed was quiet for a moment as you mulled over your next words. What to call them. Military dogs. Strays. Mutts, un –

“Not what?” Nikolai almost seemed entertained by your declaration and you looked away, before finally mumbling.

“... working dogs.”

Simon huffed. You shot him a sharp look that he didn’t really seem to be affected by, in any way.

“I’m sure you all will get along,” John just mused, before looking down at his watch, “A certain princess has become too bored now we’re no longer in the city -” he ignored your mutter of ‘have not’, “- and I can’t entertain her all the time. Mentally or sexually.” 

You whined with embarrassment, a little angry growl seeping into it, but Price didn’t really react, barely moved as you twisted in his grip, ignoring the grin of the several males in the house. 

“ - Now, I will leave you three to get acclimated a little. But, there are a couple of rules that I expect you all to follow, if not there will be punishments.”

Synchronized nods. You still twisted, digging your fingers into his arm to no avail - then a hand snagged onto your collar from behind, choking you shortly as you were pulled back, Nikolai pressing against your back. Now free, Price pointed to a little map over the area, that you hadn’t noticed on the wall.

“Your jobs will essentially be to help keep the place safe. We have had problems with wolves and foxes, and so has the neighbors, since there lives a bunch in the area. You three will help keeping them away and Soap will help around my sheeps and goats in particular, given you’re a herding dog–”

Soap nodded, tail wagging, all three dogs staring at the map intensely.

“- I will find other things for the two of you to help with as well, but your main focus will be on keeping the animals - and the rest of us - safe. One of the neighbors got some horses stolen not too long ago. I would like to avoid that as well.”

You didn’t even know that. What you did know, however, was the heat of Nikolai’s body behind you, keeping you close and tethered so that you couldn’t run off.

“Most of the wildlife will go away if intimidated, but at times you might need to attack them. I am not going to give you any firearms yet though,” John looked over at them, his voice  firmer than you usually heard it, “That will come along the way, if needed. We can discuss other weapons later on.”

The mere idea of John giving them any kinds of weapon made you want to throw up - or throw a fit. Had he gone fuckin’ mad?? giving them guns? They were going to shoot everyone, going to kill John and you. You really didn’t want to die.

“My farm includes these - and these fields. You will not and I repeat not, leave my land without a valid reason. There will be punishments if you do - you will all be given collars like another certain puppy–” all eyes watched you for a moment and though, you wanted to hide  your face in your hands, you didn’t, merely crossed your arms, ignoring the low laughter from Nikolai behind you, “that are fitted with trackers, so I will know if you do.”

Great. So hoping for them to run off wasn’t a possibility for now.

“Biting or attacking my staff in any way will result in severe punishments. You will lose privileges if you don’t do as told, without a valid reason. Is that understood?”

“Yessir.” 

“Good boys. Now, these upcoming days you will most likely be following me or Laswell around, while we get you in on all these. All dinners will be eaten in the main house and you will be given keys once I get them made one of these upcoming days. I will give you a couple of hours now –” Price looked down at his wrist watch, “Then call you in, an hour or two before dinner, so that you all can shower. Any injuries, allergies or anything that the Hybrids’ Den didn’t write down, that I need to know?”

They all shook their heads, behaving like synchronized swimmers in your opinion. 

“Good. You’re all free to relax here or explore the farm if you wish so, when the drugs wear off.” 

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

As you entered the farm house, you shrugged off your jacket and abandoned your shoes in the entrance, not caring to clean up after you, ignoring John’s irked huff.

“Insane!” you declared, walking further into the house, “You’ve gone insane! You’re all going to forget about me and those horny knotted mutts will be all up in my business!”

You flopped down on the couch, face first, continuing your ranting into the fabric.

“I might as well barricade myself inside my room - Because I dont have a tiny house!! but guns! SURE ! give them guns!” Your voice was muffled, but you were, perhaps a tad dramatically, loud in your ranting. You could just make out whispering between the two men but you didn’t care… not until you were forced to, quite literally.

“Little puppy,” Nikolai’s accent was heavy - his body even heavier as he settled on the back of your thighs, a fist coming to rest next to your head, that kept his full body weight from you, “Throwing a fit again, da?” 

You could feel the slight bulge against your fat ass, making you swallow - and tail wag, hitting Nikolai against the thighs, making the man chuckle. John as well, who settled down with a cigar in one of the arm chairs opposite the couch. You didn’t even need to look to know that he watched as Nikolai tugged at your skirt.

[surelysilly]

SuperPhantom Week 2024, go!

What: A week to celebrate the bestest crossover — Danny Phantom / Supernatural (TV 2005)! Fanfic, fanart, playlists/music, other multimedia or crafts, whatever you want, are all welcome! There are themed prompts for each day, so try to include it and more or as little as you want!

When: September 7th, 2024 - September 13th, 2024

Day 1: Sept. 7th - Divine / Impiety Day 2: Sept. 8th - Strange Day 3: Sept. 9th - Family / Outsider Day 4: Sept. 10th - Song (Fic) Day 5: Sept. 11th - Right / Left Day 6: Sept. 12th - Tools of the Trade Day 7: Sept. 13th - Free

*I will catch up on what I've missed in the following week to the best of my ability, but can't guarantee any swiftness. Submissions may show up the day after their prompt as I queue them up.

Sentence prompt for the week:

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay.”

How: Post your works on Tumblr with the tags #superphantomweek2024 and #superphantom. I’ll reblog them here! Submissions to the week can also be added to this Ao3 Collection!

Just want everyone to have fun with this old little crossover here, so be free and be merry!!! <3

Below are extra details and information for each day.

Honorable mentions for extra brownie points:

Focus on side characters from either show! Last (few) season(s) nonsense Where do ghosts fit in the war between heaven and hell?

Day 1: Sept. 7th - Divine / Impiety

Do you think God lives in Heaven because He, too, lives in fear of what He's created Here on Earth? - Spy Kids 2

Divine: Angelic Presence, Angels, Grace, Holy, God(s), Wings, Pie, Fudge, Resurrection, Prophets

Impiety: Deals, Crossroads, Demon, Betrayal, Curse, Desecration, King of Hell, Abomination, Half-human (Nephilim, Cambion), Halfas (Half Angel & Half Ghost)

Day 2: Sept. 8th - Strange

There's something wrong with those boys... Something off about that house...

Too Many Eyes, Charade, Fleeting Glimpses, Veil, Death Defying, Midwestern Gothic, Limbo/Purgatory, Horror, Biblically Accurate, Ghosts, Weird Age Club

Day 3: Sept. 9th - Family / Outsider

This is about the blood of the covenant and the water of the womb, or neither or.

Family: Children, Childhood, Siblings, Old Friend, Blood, Fluff, Teamwork, Bonds

Outsider: Accidental Meeting, Secret, Outside POV, Found Footage, Ghost Facers, Wrongfully Accused, Strange Bedfellows, Incorrect Assumptions

Day 4: Sept. 10th - Song (Fic)

We've got a long road ahead of us... can't just sit in silence! Or can we...?

Mixtape, CD burn, Radio, Voice, Enochian, Ghost Speak, Silence, Lullaby

Day 5: Sept. 11th - Right / Left

The usual canon divergence, even canon compliance... or something even further removed!

Right: Time Travel, Pre-canon, The End AU, It's a Terrible Life AU

Left: Roleswap, Fantasy AU, Sci-fi, Multi-Crossover

Day 6: Sept. 12th - Tools of the Trade

These vary by profession. What are yours?

Overshadowing, Shot gun, Blade, Salt Circle, Trap, Ghost Portal, Ectoplasm, Impala, Feton AV, Cold Iron, Disguise, Fire, Possession, Wail, Monster of the Week, Summoning

Day 7: Sept. 13th - (Team) Free (Will)

New beginnings. Final endings. Let's do it all over again, it's only just getting started. Or is it?

Friday the 13th, Unlucky, Carry On My Wayward Son, Thrill, whatever you want!

*Take what you like, leave what you don't; these are all just extra suggestions for each day to help get the brain wrinkling up! Send any questions my way~

[nanaminokanojo]

Between 7:00pm and 8:31pm | gojo x you

TW/CW: mentions of death/dying | shibuya arc | misanthropic thoughts | just angst | strong language

"For the greater good? Fuck that."

Four pairs of eyes simultaneously darted towards you, devoid of judgment. More or less, they understood what you were getting at, but you knew what they meant without words. You weren't supposed to say that. Such was your duty and purpose as a jujutsu sorcerer. But you did anyway, giving a voice to the white elephant in the room, acknowledging what everyone was afraid to even give a single moment's thought.

The greater good? Who does it serve anyway? At whose expense? Your friends' lives? Why? Because you were stronger than the rest of humanity? The strongest for the preservation of the lives of the weak?

You were strong. That should be the end of the conversation. You didn't owe anyone for it. You chose to be strong, and those who were born like you weren't there to play the role of anyone's savior just because they have the means.

Fushiguro Megumi was right: you weren't heroes. You may choose whom you want to save. Your addition to that was the fact that you can choose whether to save others or not. That's the cold, hard truth you wanted to live by without having to apologize for it, but that would shake the very foundations the jujutsu society stood for.

You looked towards Gojo. You knew he was looking at you even with his blindfold on and the lack of physical indication that his attention was on you. And somehow, it seemed to weigh more than any of the looks every one else in the room gave you. It angered you that he was resigned to it all when he was the best out of all of you, the strongest, the honored one. He can do whatever the hell he wants and yet he was there with you, wholeheartedly accepting orders to deal with whatever was happening in Shibuya at the moment.

Alone.

"Now isn't the time to –" Nanami spoke, and you usually wouldn't dare with the degree of respect you held for him, but you interrupted him.

"No, seriously. What does this have to do with us?" you asked, stunning them further. You looked at Nanami who was able to escape this life but came back anyway, confusion and rage glimmering in your eyes despite your calm manner. He could have a good life away from everything, but what the hell was he doing there?

And now they're thinking of sending Gojo alone to play along with whatever schemes the enemies are brewing? They're letting him walk into something that – although he was possibly capable of putting an end to – was, by all means, a trap? You refused to stand for it.

You didn't understand. Ever since you were a child, you were taught and trained to become what you are: a jujutsu sorcerer before you were a human; a tool for this greater good – whatever that meant – before you're a feeling, living being. But as time passed by, watching all the people you knew, good ones, lose their lives for this one-track cause, the less you knew. Why do you have to save them? Lives begin and end. It's just there. Why should those people's lives matter more than yours did? Because they're good? On whose standards?

"Y/N," Yaga warned, evidently seeing the ghost of someone he thought he knew well from last year. "This has already been decided by the higher-ups."

"And nobody dared question it?"

"You're treading dangerous waters there," the principal stated, raising his voice. "This is what we do. It's what you chose to do. Have you come to resent it?"

"There lies my mistake."

Shoko placed a hand on your shoulder. "You don't mean that."

"Geto was right." There, you said it, distabilizing the very principles you all stood for.

"Don't go there –"

You gave everyone a sweeping glare, silencing even Yaga. "His methods will never be right, but he knew what he was talking about." You chuckled bitterly. "He always did. And now he's gone."

You started walking out of the room but paused by the bench where Gojo was seated, still looking unbothered. "I never cared that you were the strongest. To me, you're just Satoru."

You looked behind your shoulder. "That applies to you all."

"Where are you going?" Nanami asked.

"You will excuse me if I do not wish to have a hand in murdering my friends or myself for that matter."

**

"You underestimate me."

You blew the cigarette smoke you were holding in as you stared at the clear signs of veils laid out over the busy streets of Shibuya from where you stood on a building rooftop. Without acknowledging the presence behind you, you finished the last drag of smoke, the burn in your throat and lungs feeling better than all your bitter thoughts and feelings towards the world you've come to know.

"'Just Satoru', eh?"

"You're purposefully being an idiot if you didn't understand what I meant by that." You glanced at Gojo when he came close enough. "Even more so if you think I'll ever underestimate you."

He chuckled. "So, you don't want me to go?" he asked in that melodic, carefree voice, slightly bending down towards the side as if he needed that to take a better look at you. "You have so little faith –"

"Faith, I have too much in you, not because you're strong, but because you are you. What I don't have is sympathy or trust for anyone who thinks they can rely on you all the time to straighten things out."

"And proud?" You let out a humorless laugh. "There's nothing to be proud of in death. There's never any ounce of dignity in it whether you die saving others or if you get snuffed out meaninglessly. It all ends the same way."

His weirdly glossy lips protruded at your sentiment. "Aren't you proud that people are able rely on us?"

"This is wrong." Everything was conveyed in those three words you uttered without any need for elaboration. Gojo merely smiled.

"So, you're scared of dying?"

"No. Dying is easy. That's all where we're headed at one point. You know what's terrifying though?"

"What?"

You finally looked at him. "Giving your life to this cause knowing it changes nothing."

"How very nihilistic."

You shrugged. "A hundred years from now, curses will still be around, kept alive by the very beings we're fighting for at present. And for what? For future generations who will produce curses, stronger and harder to fathom and defeat? All because they can't accept they're just products of a chance in their search to have higher purpose and superiority in life.

We ourselves are cursed. We control that very form of energy to prevent it from evolving into monsters, but it eats us up for the very same reasons."

"Those reasons being...?"

"We're stronger so perhaps we should be responsible for protecting lives around us. Whoever thought of that was fucking cocky, but really, who are we kidding, Gojo?"

He snickered, no doubt thrilled by your unfiltered thoughts. After him, you were probably the biggest thorn on the higher-ups' side with your radical thoughts, at least by their standards. But he still wanted you to jump all the hoops. "Thus your belief that Suguru was right?"

"I'm worse than him. I just don't act on it. I'm super sold on the fact that humans are the scum of the earth, sorcerer or not."

"You're human and a sorcerer?" he pointed out, trying to vex you.

"Exactly."

Gojo patted your head. "And yet you're still here for the very purpose you dare spit on."

You smirked at him. "I don't want you to have to kill another one of your friends for insubordination and subscribing to the ideologies of our realm's Lord Voldemort."

"Suguru had hair and a nose though?"

"He's prettier, too, that cult-leading fucker, but not the point, dumbass."

It was both funny and sad how you speak of the fallen Geto Suguru so fondly as if he didn't kickstart the most massive chaos in recent jujutsu history. But like Gojo, to you, he was just Suguru.

Just then, Gojo pulled you into his long arms, giving you a bear hug that annoyed you more than anything. "You've always been our sweetest Y/N even if you act like Ryomen Sukuna's spawn."

You pushed Gojo off of you, straightening your hair out in irritation. "He's my ancestor after all."

You both made disgusted faces at that little detail about you, but as always, Gojo was quick to recover into his cheerful façade. "Don't worry. I'll be back."

He said that, but not even an hour later, you were hearing Itadori Yuuji screaming from the top of a building in the middle of the deserted Shibuya.

Gojo Satoru has been sealed by none other than the very person – or at least whatever now resides in him – whose beliefs you agreed were right.

[boozenboze]

1.The Blood Hound

Task Force 141 x Roberta!Male reader Summary: The new recruit was...a strange one. Never really spoke much and always strayed behind the others whenever walking together. Ever since his arrival, none of them could shake the feeling that he wasn't your average soldier... Side note- Teleiotís is the greek word for Terminator

Females: She/Her, She/They DNI Teleiotís. That was the call sign M/n had acquired during his time in the military. He was a new sergeant in the 141, and the others were fully accepting. Although, there was something about him that didn't sit right. There was never much information about him on his file, not even his age, not much about his background as well. Though after asking how long he had been on the field, the other members of the Task Force concluded that the male had to be in his early 20's. As for details of his upbringing, that was all classified.

Ever since his arrival, he had always been the strange one out of the team, but nevertheless he had proven himself time and time again. Even with that, they all still had their suspicions, especially Ghost. The man was always so calm, and the constant professional tone wasn't something he could get used too. He was used to Soap speaking freely and Gaz using some slang as he spoke, but M/n, he had never seen the man speak that way. Not to mention how he never got angry at anyone, no matter if someone is literally screaming in his face his demeanor never wavered.

It was clear that M/n was a well mannered young man, hell overly well mannered if anything. He had never once been disrespectful to anyone which was something many other soldiers found honorable. Then again, none of them truly know who M/n really is.

//////

It was a normal day so far, everyone either training, signing paperwork, or soldiers just coming back from missions. Gaz and Soap were talking about nothing in particular while Price sat at the coffee table, sipping some tea. M/n sat on the couch, sitting completely straight and upright as his hands stayed positioned on his lap. This was...normal, now to say the least due to the others having gotten used to the male and his unique quirks.

Ghost had entered the room, not making his presence known like usual, nearly giving Price a heart attack when he saw the man just standing in the doorway. Ghost's steps were swift but calculated as he loomed over M/n, who had noticed his arrival but hadn't acknowledged him. There was a brief silence before the h/c male spoke up, his overly round glasses hiding his eyes as he looked up at Ghost, his gaze meeting Ghost's more intense one.

"Do you need any assistance lieutenant?" M/n asked, tone overly perfect and well mannered like usual.

Ghost said nothing, gaze sharpening as he stared down at the man. There was an obvious tension in the air, one so thick that it could be cut with a knife. Soap and Gaz went silent as they watched what was happening, Price doing the same, brow risen as he set his tea down.

"Something wrong Ghost?" Price asked, tone authoritative yet curious as to what had gotten the large man worked up.

"Yeah 's something wrong mate?" Gaz asked, leaning against the counter top as Soap smirked.

There was more silence....then more silence...

"Come with me." Ghost finally spoke, walking out of the room just as silently like when he had first entered. The air in the room immediately changed, a sense of relief washing over the room. M/n had stood up walking in the same direction that Ghost had gone in. He turned down the corridor and saw Ghost standing by the door to the training room. Ah yes, the common occurrence where Ghost wants to test M/n's strength.

You may be wondering why, but Ghost had always had the feeling that the man was holding back. See, M/n wasn't the tallest nor most muscular looking guy you'd see, he had a very average build and doesn't look like he'd be a major problem to enemies on the field. That's where Ghost's suspicions kick in, despite the mans lack of obvious physical strength and endurance, anytime he had gotten a serious injury on the field he'd still moved like he was completely fine. But every time M/n sparred with him, the others, or any other soldiers, he always seemed like he wasn't giving his all. To Ghost, it seemed like the h/c haired male let whoever was sparring him beat him, and that was something Ghost didn't like. Not at all.

Instead of straight sparring with M/n, Ghost decided that an arm wrestle would do. He won the first round, the second round...the the third.... Despite the mask covering his face, Ghosts' annoyance was very clear. To him it was like the man wasn't even trying, not attempting to win at all.

"Is there a reason why you aren't trying to beat me Teleiotís." Ghost asked, tone gruff and harsh as he glared down at the smaller male. He tightened his grip on the other mans hand, gaze not easing up at all as he waited for a response.

M/n was silent for a moment, opening his mouth to say something before he was interrupted by a loud explosion outside the base. His own grip on Ghost's hand tightened as he froze in place. A few seconds passed before Gaz and Soap came bustling through the door.

"H-hey, ain't nothing to worry about." Soap said, giving a thumbs up with a nervous closed eye smile

"One of the rookies accidentally dropped their grenade and it went off..." Gaz continued, his voice trailing off as his gaze landed on M/n's arm. Remember how it was mentioned earlier that M/n doesn't have a lot of muscle? Well imagine the look on the mans face when he saw a large bicep popping out of the h/c haired males arm. There were highly noticeable veins running through it as well, going all the way up to his hand that had Ghost's hand in a death grip.

Soap had noticed it to, his eyes popping out of his skull as his gaze locked onto the mans arm. Ghost took M/n's current state of surprise to try and force his arm down, and to his surprise, the main didn't even budge. Not even an inch. Ghost was the one struggling this time, and it further proved that there was more to the enigmatic soldier. "Teleiotís.....Teleiotís!" Ghost rose his voice, making M/n snap back into reality. His grip on Ghost's hand went slack and his arm went back to normal. He quickly excused himself and exited the premises, leaving the other 3 men to question what just happened.

//////Timeskip//////

Price had been in his office, doing some paperwork and going through files. When he was done, he pulled out another file that had M/n's name on it. Unbeknownst to the others, he and Laswell had been doing their own research on the man. He had searched through very old files, and Laswell even looked up his name. As expected nothing came up but a few images of random stuff or random websites. She then got the idea to search up his call sign, Teleiotís.

Because of this, the 141 were about to lead down a rabbit hole of secrets, and the secrets of the strange mans past are something much darker than anything.

//////

(A/n: Part 2 guaranteed, and if it doesn't come out bash me. I have like 3 other things that i've been writing part 2 for.😵‍💫)

[bks-writing-adventures]

The Prince and Princess of Death (Aemond X Ghost! Tully! Reader)

Word Count: 6.4 K

Summary: Aemond goes to Harrenhal to learn more of the world, instead, he learns about love, death, and the odd world of ghosts.

Warnings: Mentions of death, drowning, ghosts, light mentions of suicide, blood, it's low key giving Greek Tragedy but with a happy ending!

Everyone was painfully aware that Harrenhall was haunted. The whispers in the walls, the ominous things spoken in the dark, books moved and wailing carried by the winds. But in Aemond’s mind, what could a ghost do to him? There was no physical body, no pain to be caused, perhaps some sadness in seeing corpses walk, but he was confident in his ability to navigate. He simply wished to take some books and learn some new things of the world. The world that he wished to rule one day. And his mother had convinced him that this was an honor, for him to be invited in the first place. He was fantastic in his studies, and his mother was proud of that.

He didn’t have looks that could get him anywhere, so from a young age, when his face was sewn back together, he knew he would have to compensate for it. He read and read and read every book from front to back, had his own personal copies commissioned so he could write in the margins. He learned of the plants and the fish, war strategy, histories and philosophies. Only to find out that most Lords didn’t care to discuss such things. 

It seemed most men were more interested in ladies and whores and wine. That, and the weather. The gods forsaken weather. But the moment he tried to bring up cloud formations, odd looks were shot his way. The one positive, however, was that Grover Tully had heard of his habits and sent an invite for him to come to Harrenhal for some days to study the rich history and plant diversity. There was no question about whether he would go, his grip on his reins tight as Vhagar slid across the rocky ground. The air was wet and smelled of things he could not identify, and yet, he was excited to learn, marching his way up to the castle that was once grand. 

It was still the largest, yes, but there were leaks and cracks and full chunks missing. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to sleep inside, to have water trickle into your room and bats tap against your walls. But soon, he wouldn’t have to imagine, going right up to one of the holes and sliding in. It was dark, and the air felt thick and warm with light. He followed the candles, and smiled from the corridor as he saw the Lords and his daughters in the Great Hall, waiting for his arrival. “Ah, I see I used the wrong entrance,” He called out, making them jump. And to his delight, they seemed to find humor in his words. 

“Ah, Prince Aemond! I am glad you could make it,” Lord Tully was kinder than expected. His eye narrowed, and he was hunting for undertones. For violence, or perhaps, teasing. He knew the game of court, and he knew the way of tongues. And he knew that when most people spoke, they did not truly mean the words that escaped them. But this old man, he was all chuckles and drunkenness. A little tipsy as he stumbled to the dining table.

 “Please, join us for our evening meal!” He called out, waving him over. He was hesitant for a moment, and as he walked, he could swear that he felt footsteps beside him, copying him, holding him. He tried not to look, but after a moment, he glanced over. And though he could see nothing- no, this was his brain playing tricks on him. He had read about this, the placebo effect. If he truly believed the place was haunted, he would begin to feel things, to hear things that were not there at all. Clearing his throat, he sat at the first seat available. Lord Tully had three daughters, and they looked similar to him. Slightly masculine in nature, their shoulders wide and their features strong, but there was a sweetness. 

He could believe they were triplets, if he were told. They had curls of ginger that rippled out like waves of the sea, and jewelry on their fingers, all of them matching. As he sat on the chair, they looked at him, a curl in their lips as if contemplating whether or not to speak. “Perhaps the Prince would like a different chair, this one is far more comfortable,” Lord Tully spoke, a bit of tension in his voice. Aemond could tell that he had broken an unknown rule, standing up and relocating. 

“My apologies, I was not made aware of your preference,” He spoke, his hands on the armrests. 

“We should have informed you. That chair belonged to my late daughter, (Y/N). We keep it open for her,” The thought saddened him, but he tried not to show it on his face. He tried to think of what that would be like. Despite living with his family, he felt that he was greatly distanced from them. He and Aegon did not speak often. Sometimes, Aegon would speak to him, but only to taunt and ask for coin when he ran out. He liked Helaena, and sitting with her, but she was not much of a chatterbox. Though they did share a connection, he liked to think, through the trauma they shared. He was pushed away for his looks, whereas she was pushed away for her mind. He was close with his mother and not with his father, and his uncle? Forget about it. But to see this family, leaving a chair open for their dead kin. It touched him, in a way. 

“Of course,” He nodded, looking down at the meal that he was served. Fish, buttery and flaky and smothered in bread crumbs to mask the flavor of the off season. Wine that was more bitter than what he was used to, but he drank it anyway. He knew to respect the space, and to nod as they asked him questions.

 “Do you like being a Prince?” One of the ladies asked, to which he nodded.

 “Sometimes. I am very lucky, I don’t know the feeling of an empty stomach or the pain of not having fine clothes. But the responsibilities are heavy, and the court is boring,” He smiled, trying to coax out some laughter, some approval from this group he would be spending his time with. 

“So, I hear that you read a lot. Have you ever considered writing anything of your own?” Lord Tully asked, his mouth full of potato. Aemond thought about the question for a moment, rolling it around in his head. “Perhaps one day. But I am now too young to be an expert on anything. And I am not much of a storyteller, i’m afraid. I am more fascinated with history and science,” He answered, and as his eyes wandered the table, he could swear that a figure filled the seat of the dead lady. He blinked, and as his brows scrunched together, his eye squinting, she was still there. Her gown soft and white, her eyes matching as they seemed to wander the room, her face warm from the candle light. 

“I’m sorry, do you-” He paused, staring at the table. 

“Yes. She comes and goes as she pleases,” One of the ladies spoke up, and when he looked again, she vanished. His heart thumped in ihs chest, and he squirmed in discomfort. They were so casual about it, and he held his breath in his cheeks.

 “Oh. I- I see.” He mumbled quietly. He tried to ease his mind. Surely this was just a joke they were playing, having one of their maids come and run away. He bent his head to look under the table, to see if a jester was hiding beneath it. But there was nothing, nothing but shoes and the ends of frilly skirts. 

“So, no writing for you, then?” Lord Tully asked, and he quickly shook his head. 

“What do you think happens when we die? Do you believe in the Seven?” One of the ladies asked, resting her face in her palms. They had a breathy way of speaking, as if they had just ran all around. 

“Yes, my lady. I am quite passionate in my faith. I visit the Sept quite frequently with my mother, and I have read the Seven Pointed Star more times than I can count on my fingers,” He responded pridefully. 

“Hm.” She hummed shortly. “It is all nonsense,” She hummed softly, putting her utensils down. “I am retiring for the night, good night, father!” She spoke, and like ducklings, her sisters followed, giving their father a kiss on the forehead before rushing off to their chambers. He sat in awkward silence for a moment before the Lord spoke up.

 “Do not mind them, they are young and questioning things and mourning their sister,” He said gently, pouring himself a new chalice of wine. Aemond nodded, folding his napkin over his plate, rubbing his hands together.

 “I understand. My father is not doing entirely well these days, I feel as though my mother acts as though he is already gone,” He admitted, his face flushing. He did not know why he admitted it, to a stranger, nonetheless. Lord Tully nodded, giving him an understanding smile. 

“That is how it tends to be, is it not? I mourned my (Y/N) long before she was gone,” He said quietly, and Aemond stared at him for a second, trying to pick up more clues. 

“And… how did your daughter die, may I ask?” The words felt unnatural, and his voice came out soft, almost warm. Lord Tully did not seem the slightest bit uncomfortable as he responded. “A drowning incident. But there was so much more than that. I remember, some weeks before her death she began to have a curiosity for the unknown. My daughter always wanted to write an epic story of the sea, and i’ve searched aimlessly for whatever she may have. A page, a sentence, but I come back empty handed. I suppose she was on one of her adventures, the late night or the early morning, we will never know. But she washed up with afternoon tea. My eldest, Mae, went to fetch her for cake and cream. When they could not find her, they went to her favorite spot It was her favorite, because it was where the small stuff would wash up. 

She couldnt be more than a few feet away from the most beautiful shell i’ve ever seen. She was facing the sky, like she was only sunbathing. But to see her, her tongue purple and her eyes open like that.. It is something that I will not live long enough to forget,” He spoke, his voice going melancholic before he suddenly pressed his palms against his table. “But enough about our suffering. How was your meal?” He asked. This family discussed death like the Lords spoke of the weather. 

“Oh! It was, very good. Is that- was that white fish?” he asked, making the Lord chuckle. 

“Cod! The finest of fish. I find it pairs best with orange wine, but alas, we have run out,” He responded. “Now, allow me to show you to the guest chambers. You are lucky, it is right near the library. Feel free to read anything you want, I only ask that you do not read and eat, and do not take the old text outside, the sun will bleach the pages,” He said, and Aemond nodded as he soaked up the information like a sponge. The chambers were.. Well, they left much to be desired. There was a nice big bed, a fire place, a table to put his things, a few bottles of water, a small couch. But the trees screamed outside, and rain drops flew in with the wind. There was an empty wardrobe, dusty from lack of care. 

“Thank you, My Lord.” he spoke, placing his things down. He preferred to travel light. A change of clothes, some night wear, a few extra eyepatches, his own quill and journal to keep track of his studies. He sighed as he changed into his soft, cotton night clothes- and as he looked in the mirror, his heartbeat quickened as a hand touched his torso. He let out a loud sound, whipping around to try and figure out what was there, his hand wrapping around the handle of his dagger. He didn’t call out into the dark, he stayed quiet as he inched toward the wardrobe, pulling the wooden doors open. Nothing. Slowly, he turned. He could feel something touching his hair, his hand moving wildly through the strands, trying to shake something out. 

He could hear a giggle, and when he turned, he could finally see something. The soft silhouette of a woman going out the door, except, of course, she did not open it- she simply went through it, giggling down the hall. He could hear the pitter patter of her feet, his mouth parted as he opened the door, rushing down the hall, trying to figure out where the creature was going. He wasn’t supposed to believe in all this, but it was right before his eye. He could reach out and touch her, if she let him. “Hello?” he called out, trying to keep his voice calm. He slowly approached a door, one that’s knob was becoming worn down from touches, from going in and out. His fingers curved so naturally around it, and he drew in a deep breath as he slowly opened it. It howled with a creak, and he winced at the noise, looking around, as though someone would call him on his trespassing. He slowly made his way inside, and he softened at the sight. It was brighter than the other rooms, the walls splashed with blue and covered in small paintings, lazy swirls and hand prints.

 He lifted his hand to the dark blue paint, biting his lip as he pressed his handprint over the one forever stained into the wall. His hand was much larger, covering up the mark with the width of his palm. His brows scrunched together, and he felt connected to it, her, whatever this entity was. Even if it was just for a moment. The giggle tickled his ears again, and he turned his head to look at the bed. A shadow rested on it, hidden by a sheer canopy, seashells stitched into the fabric. He didn’t know what compelled him to move forward, but before he knew it, he was staring down at her, and she was staring up at him. He pushed the fabric aside, sitting down on the bed. It was soft, squishy. “My Lady?” he whispered softly as the moon dragged across the blankets. The light made her show, the outline of her nose, the fuzzy halo of her hair. He was talking to the air, to the mere idea of something. But he continued. 

“Are you there?” He asked. Slowly, he could see her becoming more solid. Becoming alive as the night aged, as the stars twinkled in the sky, and when the next breeze came, he could feel her hair brushing his nose. He smiled faintly at the feeling, reaching out to touch it. It felt like spun sugar, weightless in his hands. He should be afraid. Of himself, for being insane enough to see this. To believe it.

 “Can you speak?” he asked. There was a soft hum, and it echoed off the walls, crawling into his ear and sliding across his brain.

 “You are warm,” Her voice felt like a song, and he felt heat rising into his cheeks. He had read fables. Every culture seemed to have a different interpretation of the sleeping ladies. Women who killed themselves, who were silenced in their lifetimes, returning to whisper to lost souls and sleeping sailors. The Tully had drowned, and yet, as he looked at her now- she seemed enchanted. Like a mermaid hundreds of feet in the waves, hair flowing around, her skin tinted blue with the ocean. And yet her face remained full, and her skin glowed. She was not frightening at all. And slowly, she leaned closer.

 “I am warm?” He repeated back to her, reaching out his hand. He wanted to touch her, to feel how cold her skin must be. To wonder if she really was as her sisters said, still swimming in the sea. 

“Yes. Like fire.” She whispered back, and when their skin touched, he felt a sting rush up his arm. Like a million needles penetrating his skin. He grunted, yanking his hand back, staring at it with a bewildered expression. Maybe ghosts could hurt. “It is alright,” She whispered, reaching out again. Her hands moved unnaturally, as if they were flowing around like the tentacles of a jellyfish. “Please don’t hide from me,” Her voice was melting him like butter, and much to his displeasure, he gave in. He let her run her cold hands along his nose, over the base of his brows. “You are so beautiful. So alive.” She studied him like she had never seen a human being before, smiling as she touched his hair.

 “I would hope so,” He said hesitantly, getting a bit closer. “Are you the drowned lady?” He asked, brows raised.

 “Is that what they call me now?” She asked. He smiled, she was teasing him. He could see dimples in her cheeks, a slight tilt in his head. His mind wandered as he looked at her. She still came to her room, she still haunted this house. 

“Why are you here?” He asked.

 “This is my room,” She responded matter-of-factly. He smiled at her, licking his lips as his eyes continued to wander. There were shells everywhere, articles of clothing, her wardrobe still parted. It was painted with light blue and pink, and her socks were still on the floor with the muddy imprints of sand and toes. Her family probably hadn’t touched anything since she died. Including jars of water that were beginning to mold. 

“I know that, but.. Here, in this realm. You aren’t in the Heavens or the Hells,” He said softly. She hummed, slowly getting up. Her dress danced in unnatural ways, the fabric flapping and floating all around her, glowing dots across her back in the shape of a fish.

 “There are the Heavens, the Hells, and Harrenhal.” She responds, reaching out her hand to touch her wardrobe, being sure to stay in the light of the moon. Her hand reached out, and she knocked her knuckles against the wood. The sound echoed, and she smiled softly. “I stay here for my sisters. But I can go anywhere in the world,” She spoke fondly, as if death were a vacation. 

“Is this what happens? To everyone who dies here?” he asked. He hadn’t seen any other ghosts, at least, as far as he was aware. She didn’t respond to his question, only continuing to wander in her own little world. 

“You are the boy who reads.” She says, her big eyes looking at him. It was a bit hard to tell where she was focusing, as she no longer had irises. She just looked.. Vacant, in a way. The sight made shivers run up his spine. 

“I am, I read a lot. Does that interest you?” He asked. Never in his life did he think that he would be flirting with a ghost. She rolled her eyes, he could tell in the twitch of her eyelashes. 

“But you do not write,” She spoke. Ah, she had been listening in. Only then, at the dinner table, he hadn’t realized just how real she was.

 “I don’t- well, not publicly, anyways. But I enjoy journaling,” He couldn’t believe that he was saying all of this out loud.

 “When I was alive, I always wanted to write the best of stories. I had so much to say,” She says softly, and he can see her roaming the room to the bookshelves, caressing all the spines. Her words hit his heart, and he slowly rises to join her. “Death is very lonely. Most of my friends have left to the other side, but there is still business for me, here. It is a shame I cannot talk to my sisters,” She says gently, slowly picking up a book. It seems to fight her touch as she pulls the brittle pages open.

 “But I am talking to you right now, My Lady. How is it that I can hear you and they cannot?” He asked, to which she shrugged.

 “Quite the curious thing, isn’t it? If only there were a handbook for the dead. I fear that everything I do is a wildcard. I never know what will come of it. It is only in this room that my touch can travel into the real world,” She said, and as though to prove it, she reached out and pinched his cheek. He thought her touch would be cold and haunting. But it felt warm, and it reached into his heart, squeezing it tight. He had to fight the urge to lean into her. 

“So what happens now?” He asked. He could not tell where this was going, or why he was here in the first place.

 “I suppose I can only beg you to keep me company. What have I missed in the world?” She asked, and they spent hours staring at the ceiling as he told her of war overseas, of family drama, of insecurities that he kept well hidden. 

“LIfe is too short to be insecure, My Prince,” She responded, to which he scoffed. He almost answered with something petty, but he quickly stopped himself. It was hard to remember that she wasn’t truly here, especially when she felt so real. So real that everyone else seemed fake. It was a shame, he could see himself falling in love with her. He had no desire to marry in Riverrun, and in his luck, he had fallen for the one woman he literally could not have. Not in any way. 

“I suppose you’re right. But at least I do not intend to go swimming in the deep sea for shells,” He teased, holding his breath as he hoped for a laugh. Maybe joking about her death was in poor taste, but to his relief, she smiled. 

“No, but you do frequently find yourself in the skies on the back of a scaly beast,” She said in return. He chuckled, shaking his head as he reached to play with her hair.

 “Vhagar is no beast, she is a companion,” He responded, sighing as his touch reached to her nose and cheeks. 

“I still cannot believe that I died in the sea,” She mumbles softly. “How fragile life is. But at the end of the day, we are just a bag of skin and bones. You drop it from high enough, and it will burst,” She mumbled, to which he nodded. He hesitated before he spoke next, licking his lips. 

“I wish that we could have met when you were alive,” He mumbled softly. She gently shook her head, reaching to play with his eyepatch.

 “We wouldn’t have liked eachother then. Death has made me wiser. I fear I would have only annoyed you when I was alive,” She responded, and he nodded quietly. 

“I will probably think the same one day. When I am old and withered.” He responded, and she slowly sat up.

 “Yes, I am sure you will regret this Grim Reaper attire you storm around in,” She commented, making him scoff. 

“Many people enjoy my clothing, actually,” He teased, and she shook her head. 

“It still will not be your proudest moment… but you do look rather handsome,” She spoke, making blood burn in his cheeks. He hadn’t been called handsome, not by a lady of the court, or of course, a ghost. Only his mother when he dressed up for his nameday, or the whores who kept him company and showered him with compliments so long as he showered them with payment. He looked at her quietly, feeling his face going soft. This was so humiliating, and the only thing that would hear of it would be the parchment of his journal and the ink in his quill. “Were you this beautiful when you were alive?” He asked quietly. He was utterly captivated by her, and his brows furrowed as he watched her slowly fade with the sun rise. Like a vampire disappearing into the shadows.

 “I am uncertain. I don’t know what I look like anymore, the mirrors do not cater to souls,” She spoke, looking over at the wall. There was a round, silver backed mirror covered in seashells and little twirls of gold and twine, and inside it, he could only see his own face staring back at them.

 “Are you disappearing?” He asked quietly, reaching to touch her hand, his fingers falling right into the blankets. She smiled at him, and he could see the walls through her face.

 “Why, are you going to miss me?” She asked, brows raised as she backed into the slimming shadows. He wanted to say no, to roll his eye at the idea. But he knew he could be vulnerable with her. He found comfort in her condition, knowing that she could not go talking to people about them, about him, and the way that he was getting so gentle for her. 

“Of course, my Lady,” he responded. 

“Very good. Now, you need to get back to your rooms before my father finds you in here,” She says, moving through the wall. He wanted to respond, but as he stared at the small, bright spot in the wall, it slowly faded like a flame without air. And now his lady was gone. With a sigh, he quietly made his way back to the guest chambers, laying on his back. He hardly got any sleep before the birds were chirping, and he blinked away any sleepiness that remained. He had slept a total of two hours, but he had never felt so, well, awake. (Y/N) he woken something up inside of him, making him smile, making his heart tremor. 

He changed quickly into his day clothes before making his way down to the dining hall, walking slow in the hallways in hopes of catching her whispers. The sounds of her footsteps, a glimpse of her in the shadows. And when there was nothing, he tried to hide his disappointment. “Ah, My Prince, I see that you are awake. Feel free to help yourself to fish and toast,” Lord Tully spoke, and he bit his tongue. These people really did enjoy having fish for every meal, but he could hardly blame them. The water was where most of their wealth and resources came from, down to the clay they used to sculpt their goods. His eye wandered around the table, looking at all the faces of (Y/N)’s sisters. He could see the small resemblances.

 The slightly wild brows, the light glow of their skin. “I thought you may like to go with my daughter, Elaena, into the wetlands today. There are many exquisite creatures there, be sure to bring your books and bottles,” He nodded in response to the invitation, getting a little awkward at the idea of spending a whole day with a lady. He ate his breakfast slowly, his gaze darting to the vacant seat that haunted the table. Nothing. Not even her shadow. He sighed into his cup, stacking his plates when he finished. He took his leather bag on his shoulder, following Lady Elaena outside. 

“You met my sister last night,” She spoke matter-of-factly. He was immediately on edge, looking down at her. She was rather short, especially for a lady in the Riverlands. Her eyes were dark, and she seemed a little out of it, as if she was constantly in her own world. 

“I did. I met all of you,” He responded. He didn’t know why he felt so protective over his talks with (Y/N). They felt especially intimate. 

“Yes. Even my dead one. What did you speak of?” She asked, crouching down as their feet began to sink into the marsh. Her fingernails were stained brown and green from clay and plants. She was far from what the courts would consider feminine, and yet, she had something special about her. Maybe it was because she looked so much like (Y/N), but he felt a smile spreading on his face as he watched her. 

“How do you know of our talk?” he asked quietly. Maybe (Y/N) could actually speak to her sisters, maybe she was playing with him, trying to make him feel like some sort of chosen one.

 “I like to go to her room, when I cannot feel her anymore. She leaves notes sometimes. When I opened her diary, there was something new inside. Talk of a pretty Prince that made her dead heart sing.” She responded, grabbing his hand to make him hold a container for her. She was looking through all types of rocks, hitting some against others to make them crack in two. It was clear that she shared her sisters’ love for the wild. He blushed as she spoke, and he took a deep breath as he tried to collect his thoughts. 

“It is funny, that if I had come only some moons ago, I could speak to her in the flesh,” He said, a bit of sadness covering his face. What a life they could lie together. Spending every day like this, bent at the river, looking at the sea, collecting things and wondering what they could be. They could have even gotten married. He tried not to let his mind go so far. He was just romanticizing her, he hardly knew the girl, the ghost, and yet, she already had him. Had him in her little dead palms. 

“Perhaps. But you couldn’t have prevented her death, none of us could. I am not meant to speak of it, but everyone knows that she loved the arts. Even the ones that she was meant to stay away from. She gave her life for her discoveries, it is only a shame that none of us will ever see them. I wonder how many secrets died with her in the sea,” She mumbled solemnly. Arts that she was not meant to explore, that could only mean one thing. 

“She studied the dark magicks?” He asked, brows raised. He would say that she did not seem like the type, but between the shell-covered mirrors and her soft gaze, he could not deny that there was something magical about her. 

“I do not think that is the word for it. I do not believe any magick is dark. It is only the intensions that matter. She wished to change the world, and she did. She changed all of us the moment that last breath escaped her lungs. There is a hole that must be filled, we just do not know what to do with it. Her soul remains in our home and we have no way of freeing her. It is not a good feeling,” She mumbled softly, reaching into the water and pulling out a small fish, studying its shining scales. “I do not think she was just hunting for any seashell. It was a spell of sorts. She had to perform a ritual beneath the moon, where she had to trade something sacred of hers for a prize of her desires. I do not think she knew that she would be trading her life,” She spoke gently, standing back up. “This is an aclin pod. It creates a complex poison that can boil the skin, when it penetrates the surface. But you can eat it safely, isn’t that odd?” She asked, her eyes bright and curious as if she had not just revealed the darkest of secrets. 

“What was the prize?” He asked quietly. She simply looked at him, let out a soft hum, continuing to walk. “Elaena, what was the prize?” He asked, following behind her as they went through the forest. 

“I do not know. I do not think she knows, either. Maybe the whole thing was a great big trick,” She mumbled, and after that, the Tully did not speak again. The story swam in circles around his mind until dinner, until he was poking at a pile of potatoes, ready to get up and rush to (Y/N)’s room, to talk to her again. When the plates were finally cleared, he made the statement that he was so tired from a long day of research, saying a gentle good night as he quickly made his way up the stairs, and finally, as he was surrounded my the dark corridors, he could hear her giggles.

 “Did you miss me, my little Prince?” Her voice whispered, and he could feel the vibrations against his ears. He smiled, quickly opening the door to her room. He was worried that maybe it wouldn’t be there at all, covered in cob webs and missing all the charms. But to his relief, she was there, kneeling on the bed as she smiled up at him. “Well, did you?” She asked, brows raised. He sighed, finally kneeling in front of the bed so they could be at eye-level. 

“What do you think?” He asked softly, reaching his hands to touch the fabric that rested on her skin. It felt like nothing, like the feeling of seafoam’s caress on a sticky summer day. He played with the light blue material, wondering if there was anything underneath it.

 “I do not want to think, I want to know,” She teased, and he licked his lips. 

“Of course I missed you, My Princess,” He responded. He didn’t know what was coming over him, a mix of desire. Desire to hold her, to touch her, to cling to her, to bond with her. Just to be with her entirely. 

“I am no Princess,” She responded softly, reaching to touch his hands. It felt so good to feel their skin together, to feel her, so alive in his hands. 

“You are to me, my beautiful Princess of death,” He spoke, reaching to touch her chin, to pull her closer. She was a siren, pulling away at all the barriers between them, enchanting him, intoxicating him. Maybe that was the truth. Maybe that’s what she was now, a drowned maiden turned goddess. And he wanted to be her God. “Your sister told me the most fascinating story about you, about magick and a ritual. Is it true?” He asked softly. He was so close that his eyelashes brushed her skin, and if she had a heartbeat, he’d be able to feel it against his skin. She nodded softly, leaning forward until she could feel his breath on her face. It felt so warm. She had missed this.

 “Of course it is,” She responded. He nodded slowly, not backing away from her. In fact, he leaned closer, kissing her cheek, just to see if he could. He was pleasantly surprised to find his skin brushing against hers, to feel the heat of her cheeks. 

“And what was this great prize that you traded your life for?” He asked quietly. She didn’t say anything, leaning toward him again, aiming to kiss his mouth. The thought excited him, but he leaned away. “No, no… give me the answer first,” He spoke, holding her face. He liked the way her skin moved under his thumbs, how he could squish her cheeks like dough.

 “Love.” She responded, making his head tilt. He thought she would want great powers, or status, or to transform into a mermaid or something. But love? He wasn’t sure he saw that coming. And someone so lovely and sweet as her, so beautiful, to have to perform magick for love? It confused him greatly, but he slowly nodded.

 “And did death give you this love…?” He asked, slowly sewing the pieces together like a quilt in his mind. She smiled at him, pulling him closer until their lips could meet in a brief, small kiss. He felt his whole body burn under her, and he closed his eye, licking his lips for all the remnants of her touch.

 “I like to think so,” She mumbled into his mouth, and soon, they were kissing again and again, slipping beneath the untouched blankets of the bed, sending a cloud of dust into the air that made them both laugh. 

“I didn’t think i’d ever fall for a dead girl,” He spoke. It sounded so insane, but then again, it was probably not the oddest thing to happen to him.

 “I did not think i’d ever find my prize,” She responded, her hand landing just over his heart, feeling the foreign thump in her hand. “Aemond,” She said quietly, making his head pick up from the crook of her neck.

 “Will you join me in death?” She asked. He paused, lifting himself up as their eyes met.

 “I-” He paused, trying to figure out what it was that she was asking of him. Was she to wait the years until his body was frail and decaying? Or was she asking for something else? The answers came silently when her hand brushed over his dagger. He gazed down at her, and slowly, he complied with her request.

When the sun rose and the Second Son was stained red on the bed, it did not take a genius to know what happened. He had gone peacefully, with a smile still settled in his porcelain face like a little doll. (Y/N)’s room was tainted with death, and the scent lingered in the air even when the blankets were gone. Elaena stared as they took his body into a carriage, and she smiled to herself as soon as she could. In death, her sweet sister finally got their prize. And for decades to come, with every new guest in Harrenhal, they could hear two laughs bouncing off the dark walls, soft moans singing from the Lady’s old chambers, and every now and then, ink would paint the pages of her aged journal.

‘Let us all find love in the next life,

Sincerely,

The Prince and Princess of Death.’

Thank You to everyone who reads! This was a little different from what I usually write, but I hope its a good different!

-BK ♡

[evilbihan]

A guide to writing Tomáš

This is a Bi-Han centric blog, but I really want to talk about the mischaracterization of Tomáš too because it irks me to no end and I believe he deserves better. Not to mention that most of his mischaracterization usually comes at Bi-Han's expense as well.

Tomáš is not the sad, broken, overly sensitive crybaby the fandom likes to portray him as. Every time I see yet another version of the same fanart where poor Tomáš is bawling his eyes out and running into Kuai Liang's arms because Bi-Han was being "mean" to him, I immediately unfollow the artist. Tomáš is a grown man, it's disgusting how the fandom keeps babying him. Not to mention it's getting boring and on top of that, it's completely wrong characterization of both Bi-Han and Tomáš. In the scene where Bi-Han snaps at him, Tomáš barely even bats an eyelash. He looks confused and annoyed if anything, not heartbroken, and he certainly doesn't break down in tears either. Tomáš literally chose to talk back to Bi-Han, he's not afraid to say what he thinks, which is proven by the fact that he even confronts Liu Kang for letting his family die. Tomáš is courageous and he stands up for himself. This man watched his entire family get murdered in front of him and chose not to let it haunt him. ("Their ghosts no longer haunt me.") Of all three Lin Kuei brothers, he's the one with the highest emotional maturity, choosing not to let emotions cloud his judgement, unlike Kuai Liang (blind anger/hatred) and Bi-Han (frustration). Tomáš is so much stronger than people give him credit for. He's not some damsel in distress that needs saving and he definitely doesn't need Kuai Liang to defend him, especially not from Bi-Han who respected Tomáš and his skills enough to let him join them for important missions when he had everyone else in the Lin Kuei at his disposal. It's awful how some fans deliberately paint Tomáš as weak and Bi-Han as cruel, so they can make Kuai Liang look better.

A lot of the traits that define Tomáš are usually taken away from him in fanfics and fanart and given to Kuai Liang instead. Tomáš is the loyal, brave and kind brother who wants peace above all else, who wants his brothers to reconcil, who is truly selfless and respectful, even towards some of his foes. Believe it or not, Tomáš is not the "soft" brother. He chooses to be kind and fans mistake it for weakness. Despite being angry at Bi-Han, Tomáš doesn't want vengeance against him. He wants his brothers to stop fighting, for Earthrealm's sake and because they're family. Tomáš might be the youngest of the brothers but he's wiser than them. He has seen enough death and bloodshed to know no one will come out of this war as a winner.

Tomáš used to idolize Bi-Han, not Kuai Liang. Bi-Han, who is known to be cold and ruthless. As I said before in another post I made, Tomáš is no less ruthless than his brothers. He is not sweet and innocent. Just like Bi-Han and Kuai Liang, he was trained to be a lethal and stealthy warrior. Even before joining the Lin Kuei, Tomáš was a hunter. He grew up in a family of hunters. Listen to his taunts at the end of each round and the way he giggles while performing one of his fatalities. Tomáš enjoys hunting, he enjoys the thrill of it.

There is no part of the story or any intros that indicate that Kuai Liang and Tomáš were ever close before their falling out with Bi-Han, but it is said that Tomáš used to admire Bi-Han. I don't know why the fandom made up the wholesome bond between Kuai Liang and Tomáš because of that one scene in which Kuai Liang conveniently tells Smoke that they're brothers because he needed him on his side. Kuai Liang doesn't even bother interrupting when Bi-Han reprimands Tomáš. He even questions Smoke's resolve. What brought them both closer are a few shared ideals, such as the wish to honor their father's legacy and continue their duty of protecting Earthrealm. Kuai Liang is now the only family Smoke has left, which is why he's doing everything he can to prove worthy of his trust. He calls himself the Shirai Ryu's second in command, he's the one who recruits Hanzo, he's supportive of everything Kuai Liang does and never contradicts him despite having different opinions than his brother, possibly out of fear of losing his family yet again.

Tomáš is a very curious and open-minded person. Unlike Bi-Han and Kuai Liang who are both equally disgusted by the idea of fame and stardom, Smoke seems eager to play a part in one of Johnny's movies when Johnny suggests giving him a role in a film he made. He's also the one reaching out to others to try and bond with them, to make friends. He tells Raiden that he wants to visit Fengjian, he asks other characters questions about themselves etc.

Tomáš is without a doubt traumatized from what he's seen and been through. Similar to Bi-Han in the previous timeline, Smoke is concerned that he's tainted by evil due to his nightmares about the Enenra. Ashrah reassures him that her kriss can't sense any evil, but there's a chance he might still become corrupted.

I hope this makes sense and will help writers and artists out there to portray Tomáš more accurately in their works. Too many people in the fandom have a wrong idea of who this character is.

[innerwriterwonderland]

My girl only breaks her favorite toys ☆

Avox!Coryo x Reader

Summary: Just as you're about to give up on finding Coriolanus Snow, your school nemesis, he falls right in your lap, in quite the condition.

Warnings: Canon level violence, threats, non sexual choking, attempted drowning, mention of bruises, cuts and other injuries, mentions of masturbation, the reader exhibits predatory behaviors, mentions of past bullying, homophobia and prostitution (pls feel free to tell me if i missed anything).

Author's note: this is a based on this small headcanon i made some time ago, but it can be read alone. It isn't meant to be a series, but i'm thinking of a part 2 in the future.

Word count: 2843 words.

It was your 18th birthday. A weird thing if you were asked. You got the prize, a way to University, all the honors of top student, despite not being picked as a mentor for the games, and still it didn't sit right with you. All these things were never yours, at least you never thought they would be.

They were Coriolanus Snow propriety. He set his claim on it all a long time ago, maybe even before he was conscious of it. But weirdly, the Snow heir had vanished into thin air after the 10th Hunger Games. Disappeared from the Capital's streets completely. No one knew where he went, or why he went, or even when exactly he left.

All that was said was that one day Coriolanus was celebrating his tributee's victory, and then the next one, he just couldn't be found anywhere. And the strangest thing was the lack of cover up story. How no one bothered masquerading his absence.

But, alas, here you were. Exhausted from the longest, fanciest, loudest party your parents could throw. Feet sore from the high heels you wore all night, and head buzzing from all the noise. It was nice how happy they were for you, but sadly, you felt too lost in your party to enjoy it.

There was one more gift according to your parents, waiting in your room. "To end the night on a high note!" your mother said, "It must be expensive!" you replied. Your mother had certainly acquired a taste for Capital opulence, and so had you. The heels, and clothes, and jewels in your bedroom accounted for that.

The double doors opened silently, and you went through in a mess stumbling feet, and energetic laughter. You might also be a bit tipsy, too much champagne for a night.

Then your body turned cold and rigid, eyes wild like you'd seen a ghost. Well, maybe you did.

Coriolanus Snow stood not a meter away from you, with sunken cheeks, and dirty platinum curls, and eyes too blue to be real. And, strangest of all, in a rose Avox tunic, looking sick and beaten.

Most certainly this was some illusion, you were hallucinating!

Coriolanus Snow, who – despite not having a coin to his name – walked through the Academy halls like he owned the place, and everyone inside it, was standing in front of your very eyes in a servant's clothing. Not any servant, an Avox, a criminal without his tongue, forced to do labor to atone for his crimes.

You were clearly losing your marbles! That's the only logical conclusion.

Yet, a gargled sound came out of the Coriolanus shaped thing in your bedroom, and it's eyes were the very blue you couldn't erase from your mind. It was him! By some heavenly miracle, of whatever this was, that was him.

"Snow?" You whispered almost scared as you reach your hand to him. Months of gathering whatever littlest information you could find on him, of using every last favor you had to look for clues on where the hell he was – just for Coriolanus to fall right into your lap.

He shrinks away from you, one step after another as you get closer. Now you could smell the foul scent that glued itsetf to him, disgust!

His back hit you vanity as your hand connects itself to his swollen cheek. Had they hit him before bringing him here? You doubted the Snow heir would come quietly to serve you, what he called "a district whore". Well, not like he had any choice now. A mean smile painted your lips at that.

"Snow, dear" You purred, getting closer to him, something he clearly didn't enjoy. "Looks like you were roughed up!" Sharp manicured nail traced the purple bruise close to his eye, and you watched as his eyebrows drew in on pain. "Don't worry, I'll take care of you now!"

It was twisted, what you felt for him. You couldn't hate him more, yet he was your longer lasting obsession. Maybe it was some underdog complex, as a born district girl, envying the Capital pure breed boy might be natural. But in your opinion it was more than that.

Coriolanus had chosen to haunt your life for as long as you've known him, no mercy to spare after letting the Plinth boy walk free of judgment it seemed. His insults and acid jokes echoing behind your back anywhere you went.

But now he seemed so weak, and fragile.

Snow had always been a bit short for his age, too skinny, pale and underdeveloped, but all the boys in his generation were. But he had a regal posture to compensate, as graceful as a lynx, Snow was quite easy on the eye, if you were honest. Attractive, but intimidating, in equal parts.

Your nails graze the recent cut on his forehead as you brushed his curls away from it.

"Poor, poor Snow" Soft as feathers, your hands trailed down his temple, and came down to hold his face between your palms "Let's get you bathed, huh? Wash all this dirt away?" You talked to him like a child, condescending.

With his wrist tightly enveloped by your hand, you pulled him into your bathroom. A spacious and luxurious room, with a delicate porcelain tub in the middle. "Undress" You ordered, with a stern voice Snow had never heard, before leaving him there and going to change yourself.

Snow thought for a moment after undressing that he should thank you for giving him such privacy, but only lasted 'till you came back into the room. In a short baby pink slip dress and a silk robe on top, hands working on tying up a bow to close it. Your eyes ran over his body, taking notice of the many bruises.

"They really hurted you, didn't they?" You asked, putting your hair up with a claw clip, and opening the faucet to fill the tub "But the real question should be why? What did you do to deserve this, huh?" Snow fumed at that, knowing he could not answer "Cat got your tongue? Oh, no, the peacekeepers did!" Your laughter echoed in the ample space.

Once the tub was full, you mentioned for him to get in and he obeyed. Just that simple act of submission made your skin tiggle. The Snow you knew would rather die than follow your command, he couldn't even handle to be beneath you in anything. Once, at the Academy he had choked and threatened you after you got a grade higher than his.

You never forgot the feeling of his cold fingers on your skin, his blue eyes looking right into yours, his breath fanning over your face. You went back to that moment many, many times, late at night, when you were alone and needy. As said before, your feelings around him were never so simple.

Snow sinked down slowly into the warm waters, humiliated to be following your commands. How ironic that he's pride was to blame for this. If he hadn't cheated for Lucy Gray to win, he wouldn't be at your mercy, if you had any. His eyes burned you as you knelt down beside the tub and began to bathe him.

Smiling up at him, all sickly sweetness, you brought the sponge up to rub his back "You know, I used to watch you, back at the Academy. So smart and bright, always around those rich, influential friends of yours. Always leaving me behind, look where that got you" The faux pity in your voice made his skin crawl, the rough sponge brushing against his bruises making him wince in discomfort "But it's okay, I'll take care of you now, as long as you obey me."

Your hands let go of the sponge to grab the shampoo and scrub it into his dirty platinum curls. Fingers trailing down to hold his shoulders, so he couldn't move away, as you nuzzled into his neck.

"Your skin's still soft, smells like lavender" You whispered into his neck, then pulled away to look into his baby blue eyes "I know you prefer roses, but all I have right now are my own products. We'll buy you some rose scented ones soon. You will smell like a girl, Snow!" You couldn't help but giggle girlishly at your own teasing.

Snow stiffen under your hold, as the insinuation sank in. Oh, how hated you. And the feel of your warm breath on his neck, and your hand moving down his body, across his chest, towards his stomach, and your soft voice as your said:

"You know I like those, right? Girls. 'Course you do! Used to tease me about it. Call me dyke. Say I ogle at the girls in the changing rooms." You sank your nails into his bruised skin, scratching bright red lines across his blue and purple belly. Despite the pain, he couldn't say he regretted the words now, if he could, he would do it all again. "But I like boys too, Snow, I'll prove you that in time." The smile showed him now was all teeth.

Snow's blood ran cold at the threat in your words. He wanted to curse you. Tell you what a disgusting whore you were, but his lack of vocal chords stopped him. Only a grunted sound of protest left his plump lips. He'd never been touched like that, all his romantic experience resumed to the quick kiss Lucy Gray gave him before the games.

As horror took over him, your hand went back to his shoulders. "Underwater, go, need to rinse your hair." Before he could even process the words you pushed him into the water, holding him down for the pleasure of watching him squirm.

His eyes went wide as he sank. Hands gripping the edges of the tub to try to pull himself back up. His mouth opened and you watched as the water filled and he grew panicked with his lack of breath, as air in his chest was being sucked away in the water, frantically trying to push your hands away. You wait until he begins to lose his energy to bring him up, with a hand on his throat and the other on his forehead.

"Shh, shh, calm down" You said in a soothing tone. Keeping him pressed to your chest as he coughed out water, breath heavy and labored as the panic slowly went away. Fucking psycho, Snow thought you were. "You're okay, just let me wash your hair." You brushed the damped curl away from his forehead before letting go get the conditioner to finish washing him.

Disregarding the horror of his situation, it almost felt nice to have your soft hand run through his hair to apply the other products. He barely had anyone take care of him these days. It made him miss Tigris, she always cared for him, despite all her own pains.

"Okay, go down again" You lightly patted him, but that was enough to bring the fear back, and Snow tense as he waited for another drowning.

But it never came, so he went down, quickly, coming back soon before you tried to suffocate him again. The smirk in your face made him want to choke you.

You stood up after that, telling him to finish his bath as you went to grab him a change of clothes. Snow almost felt grateful as you left. He washed his body and grabbed one of the soft white towels of the rack to dry himself, pleased with it's texture against his bruised skin. Looking in one of the many mirrors, he found himself unrecognizable, thin and frail like a ghost. A twisted reflection of who he used to be.

"Still so pretty" He heard your breathy voice before he saw through the mirror.

You had a piled of male clothing in your hands - a white formal shirt, a pair of crimson pants and some underwear - that you extended to him. "Here. These are my boyfriend's, not sure if they'll fit, but try it."

With a small nod he took the clothes from you and began changing. Uncomfortable with how you stared at him, eyes trailing his body as he got dressed. The clothes' fit was barely good, the pants' legs were too short, and so were the cuffs of the shirt. This was just another way of humiliating him, as if he wasn't degraded enough already.

You thought it was good enough. "That's enough for now, I'll buy you some more fitted ones in the future."

Snow kept his eyes downcasted as he left the bathroom behind you. The new clothes felt nicer on his skin, expensive and softer, and he felt clean for the first time in a while. Yet, Snow never felt more dirty and loathsome. Even the size of clothes seemed to mock him. Dean Highbottom was right, snow was falling, and now he felt like he'd hitted rock bottom.

But you? You have never been happier! Snow was all yours, and he was broken down enough to follow your every word. Enough to be your own little toy to play with however you wanted. You couldn't help but appreciate his new state. Delicate little thing was he, ghastly almost. Yet those blue eyes and blond hair could never be anything but beautiful.

"Think I'll ask for some cake to celebrate! It's my birthday, you know?" You looked at him with too bright a smile and sparkling eyes, that wided as you heard his stomach groan "You hungry, Snow?" Even with his hunger you played.

What pitiful excuse of a life Snow had now. You toyed with his needs, but made sure he was always dolled up before. He only nodded before you called the maid to bring you something from the party buffet.

"You're used to it, aren't you? The hunger" You mused quietly watching as he sat down on the floor, head bowed "Heard your cousin used to sell her body to feed you, so you must be used to going hungry longer than most." He contemplated ripping your neck to shreds at that.

How dare you insult Tigris like that, even if it was true. You found out about that when you were searching for him. It seemed the Snow's had quite a few secrets since the war ended. He only hummed in response, not even looking at you.

"The Snow household was left in shambles after your disappearance, you know?" You prod hoping for a reaction from him "Your cousin, Tigris, became a stylist for the next hunger games - they are trying to follow your legacy of creating a show it seems - but cutted all her connection to the Snow name. And that old woman in your house, no one has seen her since, the penthouse is completely abandoned." You let the poison drip from your tongues and analyzed how his jaw clenched "It's for sale now. Maybe I'll buy it for you."

You knelt down beside him and took his face in your hands "But you don't have to worry about any of it anymore! Now, you have me to take care of you." As soon as you finished talking his hand wrapped around your throat.

Snow pushed you down on the ground, choking you as his weight caged you. You had to concentrate to not moan. His baby blue eyes now burned with pure unfiltered hatred, just as you remembered. Slender fingers gripping tightly, knuckles white. You hoped it would leave a mark.

Your hands held onto his wrists. He wouldn't kill you, Snow didn't have it in him to be a murderer. Or at least, that's what you thought.

Snow, on the other hand, was ready to end this here. To end your spoiled bratty ass and his humiliation. He sank his fingers into your flesh and watched you turn purple. Disgusted by the glint in your eyes and the smirk in your lips. Your lack of fight was weird, but he blamed it on you trusting the security of your home.

Vision blurred from the lack of oxygen, you forced a laughter out of your swollen lips, but no words came out thanks to his grip. You let go of his hands, wondering if Snow really thought he could kill you in own house. Poor foolish Snow. Your hands pushed at his waist to get his body off the top of yours. And when you failed you sank your nails into his bruises.

He winces in pain and falters his hold on your neck, letting you get away from under him. Bending over coughing. "Oh, that was fun!" You giggled between heaving breaths "That was really fun!"

The look of shock in his face was priceless. You prayed for more chances of seeing it again. Little did Snow know the game he had just got into with you. It would be so fun to break and build him up, again and again and again. Snow was now your new favorite toy to break.

[sage-green-matcha]

STAB - ETHAN LANDRY 🔪

Billy and Stu? Nah, Y/n and Ethan 😋

Content includes: Bimbo!Reader, sweet gf! Ethan Landry, gf!Reader, mentions of blood, killing, shooting <3

A/n: I love stu sm and I would 100% be that type of gf 🤭

<3

<3

<3

"My mom and dad are gonna be so mad at me!" You cried, holding the stab wound Ethan had done on you.

"Shut up Y/n!...You look good by the way" he mumbled, watching as Sam held a panicked look in her eyes. "This literally sucks! You said we could..." The pain was too much, stopping you in your tracks.

"What? Yea, we can still go on a date, but we have work to do" he sighed, rubbing his temples. "You said this would be fun!" You squirmed, wiping the blood that was seeping out of your slashed shirt.

"This is fun, sweetheart!" You rolled your eyes, taking deep breaths to distract yourself from the pain. "It's not fun! Babe, you literally stabbed me! You said we could just use the fake blood on me!" You groaned.

"It's not believable like that!" He spat, dropping the ghost face mask next to him.

"Are we gonna finish this or what? I can't die! I have a fucking final next week" you cursed, limping over to Ethan.

"Yea, can you still walk?" Ethan asked, placing his hand around your waist. "I'll be fine"

Sam finally broke out of her trance, running towards Tara. To say she was shocked would've been a lie. She basically already knew it was you and Ethan, you two came out of nowhere.

"I got the gun, who do you want me to kill first?"

"Go wild, sweetheart"

His words gave you confidence, bullets being shot as everyone ran. "Got one!" You smiled excitedly, watching as Mindy tumbled to the ground. "Always hated that bitch, talks too much" you mumbled, holding your wound as you looked for the others.

All the doors were locked, the windows were boarded up. There was no way for all of them to escape.

You and Ethan eventually killed off the rest, Sam being the last one. You had shot her in the stomach, waiting for Ethan to finish the job.

"Fucking...pathetic" her words were mumbled, her blood mixing in with the one of her sisters and Highschool friends. "Shut up!" You hit her with your gun, blood spilling from her mouth. "You know I'm...right. He had you kill them because he's too scared"

You glanced at Ethan, his eyebrows furrowed. "Come on babe, show her. Show her you're not scared to fucking kill her!" You yelled, frustration running through your laugh. You kicked her in the ribs, watching as she yelped in pain.

Ethan just stood above her, he had only killed Tara so far. "Are you gonna do it? Your dad would be so proud Eth..." You smiled, his expression changed as you waited, tears falling from Sam's face.

He needed time, time to watch as she suffered the same way his brother did. Richie was never a good role model, not even a good brother. But Ethan knew this would gain him his dad's respect, and that was all he had ever wanted.

"It's okay, I can wait for you" Your glistening doughy eyes made him melt. He had to do this for you too.

He pulled his gun out, his eyes watching carefully as a loud gunshot went off. Sam Carpenter was finally dead. He expected himself to feel better. He thought that the feeling of loneliness would fade with each second that she suffered.

But he felt the same. He felt like a sidekick, he felt useless. And it's not like he even did this in honor of Richie. He didn't do it for himself. He did it for you and his dad.

"So...what do we do now?" You honestly didn't expect to be the first successful ghost face. When you mentioned the idea to Ethan he was on board right away. You guys had only taken the plan this far and now you had no idea what to do.

"I guess we clean up now..."

You cringed at Ethan's words, a frown on your face. "Weren’t we just gonna say we got attacked and were the only ones that survived?"

"Hmm yea, I guess. I didn't do that stab wound on you for nothing. But I will admit, you look really cute limping around”

You rolled your eyes, bumping his shoulder as you walked past him. "You're lucky I didn't stab you back.”

[thought--bubble]

In The Comfort of Our Chamber

Aemond (Canon Era) X (Wife Reader)

Warnings Below

Word Count: 1,803

Canon Aemond Master List

Full Master List

Banners by @arcielee

Warnings: mentions of murder (canon spoliers), Dom Aemond, Spanking, dubcon(he doesn't get explicit consent), fingering, smut (I'm terrible at warnings trying to get better any suggestions please let me know)

Your husband was never the joyful playful type. You had come to terms with this moons ago. He was, however, attentive. He always made sure that you were happy, well taken care of, and satisfied.

Prince Aemond Targaryen was known for his cool and stoic demeanor. The addition of the kinslayer title that had been recently added after the death of his nephew made him seem all the more formidable. To most that is, but not you.

You had tried to talk to him when he returned from storms end. He was wet, adrenaline pumping, and smelled of dragon. He did not, however, wish to talk to you about it. No, since that night, you had hardly seen or interacted with your husband at all.

He was either busy with council meetings or holed up with his brother, mother, and grandsire. You were getting more and more restless and feeling completely and utterly alone.

That's why when King Aegon had called the residents of the red keep to the throne room to announce the feast he was having in your husband's honor you could not help but scoff and roll your eyes.

This finally caught your husband's attention. He glared at you across the throne room while Aegon chattered on gleefully about his wonderful feast and how much wine would be there. You felt your husband's eye upon you but made it a point to look anywhere but at him.

When Aegon dismisses everyone from the throne room, you make haste out of the room, not sparing your husband a second glance.

You walk down the corridor, a feeling of satisfaction flowing through you. You finally got his attention, and you knew it. He will get his retribution. In fact you were looking forward to it.

You made it a point to retire to your private chambers early and take supper there as well. You were just patiently waiting for that hard knock upon your apartment door, but as dinner came and went and then night began to fall, and there was still no knock, you began to feel helpless. If he did not come to see you when you irritated him, when would he come? Would he ever come?

You sit before the hearth, these thoughts rattling around in your brain when you finally decide to go to sleep. You rise from your chair and make your way toward the bed chamber, feeling completely and utterly defeated.

Just as you open the door to the bedchamber, you hear it. That familiar knock. That I'm very annoyed come answer this door immediately knock. A satisfied smirk ghosts across your face as you head to the apartment door.

You make sure to wipe any trace of a smile off of your face before opening the door.

"My prince," you greet him as you open the door.

"Has it been so long that we are now to refer to each other with such formalities?" He asks stoicly, as he enters.

"It has been...... some time, " you make sure to avoid directly answering his question. This is something that drives him insane so you have made it a permanent piece of your tool box that you take out whenever your husband gets closed off or too cold.

He gives you a pointed look and walks further into your chambers with his arms tucked behind his back.

"Your behavior in the throne room...." he turns back to look at you again.

"I know not of what you speak." You walk past him further into the room and pour yourself some wine.

You hold up the wine and look at him.

"No, thank you," he says while looking at you with a curious eye. You take a sip of your wine eyes peering at him over the rim of your goblet.

"So...... what is it exactly that you were hoping to achieve with your earlier behavior?" He says as he steps closer to you.

"As I said. I know not of what behavior you are referring to, " you say, feigning innocence.

"Hmmmmm," he clicks his tongue as he circles you.

You continue to sip your wine and keep your eyes trained on him as he paces slowly.

"Is it attention you so desire my love?" He doesn't stop circling you but slows down to a pace where he is barely moving as he looks into your eyes, waiting for a response.

"Of course not," you swirl your wine in your goblet, watching the liquid slosh around.

"Hmmmmm," he stops directly behind you. Slowly clicking his tongue. He presses himself to your back and slides his hand over your throat while tilting your head up and your ear towards his mouth. "And you wouldn't lie to me of course?"

You feel a jolt of electricity shooting through your body at the closeness. The heat of his breath tickles your ear and causes the tiny hairs on the back of your neck to stand on end.

"N-no, of course not" your voice is strained

"Tsk, tsk, you know there will have to be a punishment for being dishonest with your lord husband?" He rubs his nose against the shell of your ear.

He keeps one hand on your throat as he snakes the other around your body, removing the goblet from your hand and placing it down on the table behind him.

"Now the question at this moment..." he pulls your body flush against his tightening the grip on your throat just slightly while the other hand lays flat against your stomach, pushing your body harder against his.

"Is what punishment suits your behavior?"

You take in an unsteady breath as you can feel your heart beginning to pump so hard you feel blood rushing through your ears

"Hmmmm?" He nibbles at the side of your neck as he tightens his grip just a little bit more.

The hand on your stomach slowly slides to the side of your hip, where he starts rucking up the skirts of your gown.

"This kind of disrespect can not go unanswered." he shoves you forward with just a thrust of his hips bending you over the serving table in front of you knocking the half full container of wine to the floor.

His hand grasps the back of your head, pushing your face into the table.

"I really am quite busy as of late, darling. I need you to be the good little wife I know you can be" he slowly pulls the skirts of your dress up and over your backside.

He tugs your small clothes down to your knees and rubs his hand gently over your left ass cheek.

"Now, I'm going to need you to apologize for your behavior in the throne room." he continues gently caressing your bum.

"I-i don't know what behavior you speak of," your voice is trembling with anticipation.

He clicks his tongue in disapproval three times before landing a harsh smack on your left ass cheek before he caresses it again.

"Do you want to try that again, darling?" He lands another slap on your already stinging ass.

You bite your lower lip, trying not to give him the satisfaction of you yelling out.

He slides his hand between your legs and prods your entrance with his finger.

"Silly girl," he clicks his tongue. "This is a punishment I've hardly started, and you're already gushing for me"

He gathers some of your slick on his finger and brings it up to your pearl. He rubs in a circular motion once, twice, and then brings his hand back, bringing a slap to your heat.

At this, you lose your resolve and moan out loud.

"Ahhh..... that's my good girl. " he leans over you and whispers in your ear as he slides one long slender finger inside of you.

"Now apologize, and I'll give you what you crave." he pumps his finger in and out of you, and then suddenly halts.

"I'm sorry, love, so sorry." You blurt out pathetically while rolling your hips towards him, desperate for more friction.

He continues sliding through your folds while unlacing his breaches.

"How sorry? Hmmm?"

"Very very sorry, so very sorry" you push your backside towards him.

"I did not say you could move darling," he pushes you forward. "I'm not quite sure if I have forgiven you yet," he pushes his breeches and underclothes down just enough to free his length as he starts pumping himself to full hardness his other hand leisurely running his fingers over your pearl making you twitch.

You release a frustrated sigh. "Please, please"

"Oh how I love it when you beg" he moves his hand and replaces it with his cock rubbing the tip against your entrance.

"Please, my love, please!" The desperation is apparent in your voice. All self-respect is gone, and you will give this man anything he wants at this point, and he knows it.

"Tell me you need it" he growls as he slowly starts to push into you.

"I need it I need it" you cry out

"And if I denied you?" He snickers as he pushes in just a little bit more.

"I would die" you dig into the table with your fingernails.

"Oh well, we can't have that now, can we?" He grabs your hips and slams the rest of his cock into you causing you to scream out.

He reaches his hand around the side of your face and hooks his finger on your cheek, pulling your head back.

"You" thrust "will" thrust "not" thrust "disrespect" thrust "me" thrust "again"

"Is that understood?" You nod your head drool dribbling down your chin.

He brings his other hand around to your pearl and rubs in fast circular strokes.

"Use your words, my love" he says through grunts as he slams into you repeatedly the loud smack of skin on skin permeating the room

"I promise, I promise," you manage to gargle out, his finger, still stretching your cheek.

"Good girl, good girl," he quickens his pace, rubbing at your pearl without mercy and you clench around him impossibly tight.

You both hit your peak in unison, your legs buckling beneath you as you completely lose yourself to the sensation.

He stays in place for a minute as he regulates his breathing before pulling out of you and pulling your skirts back down and patting them flat.

He clears his throat "well I'm glad we've got that sorted, now make sure you remember what you promised me"

You dumbly nod your head cheek resting on the table.

You know what you promised him, and you know you should keep that promise, but how can he expect you to behave when you know the punishment that awaits you in the comfort of your chambers?

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[outerwilds-events]

Well, Campfire Fest was an absolute blast. We had 18 participants and 65 submissions. This is a huge accomplishment that all of you made together! Thanks again to everyone who participated, it wouldn't have been such a great event without you. Major kudos to @noofl, @poisonhemloc, and @sawyer-is-eepy for submitting something for every day of the fest week during fest!

Honorable mention to @unnamedpebble for submitting something for every day of the fest week with the late submission period. Links to each days works are below the cut. If you haven't had the chance to peruse everything you really should. Everyone did such a great job and I continue to be so impressed with how talented this fandom is.

Be on the look out for more information on mod applications and on the winter event!

Day 1: Hourglass Twins, Angst, Slate, Locating the Eye

Tugging the Tether by @sawyer-is-eepy (fic)

Hour Glass Twins Warp Tower by @660percent (art)

Okay Maybe There Was One Death From The Space Program by @poisonhemloc (fic)

A Ship In Need of Repair by @carolkinopf (comic)

Bitter Medicine by @noofl (comic)

broken window by @tippertot (fic)

Campfire Fest 2024 Day 1 by @jellyfish-grave (comic)

Assurances by @merrydock (fic)

The Arrow of Time by @spitzyyyy (fic)

dropped in a canyon (help has now arrived) by @tksfandomhellhole (fic)

Post Feldspar's Disparition Slate by @unnamedpebble (art)

Time Stops for No One by SpaceMange (fic)

Day 2: Timber Hearth, Fluff, Hornfels, Music

Revelations by @sawyer-is-eepy (poem)

Hornfels - The Astronomer by @unnamedpebble (art)

What if Hornfels Didn't Know How to Whistle by @noofl (comic)

If You're Going to Play around a Campfire (You gotta have a Fiddle in the Band) by @poisonhemloc (fic)

Technically Kazoos are after Mirlitons Timeline-wise But by @poisonhemloc (fic)

a favorite of the formerly deceased by @spitzyyyy (fic)

Campfire Fest 2024 Day 2 by @jellyfish-grave (comic)

Child of the Stars by spacemange (fic)

Artistry by @merrydock (fic)

anti-fall tarp by @tksfandomhellhole

Day 3: Brittle Hollow, Hurt/Comfort, Gossan, Warp

Gossan by @unnamedpebble (art)

Gossan by @noofl (art)

Good Thing No One is Watching the Black Hole and About to Freak Out by @poisonhemloc (fic)

Brittle Hollow/Warp by @660percent (art)

warp to me by @tippertot (fic)

Untitled by @sawyer-is-eepy (art)

Campfire Fest 2024 Day 3 by @jellyfish-grave (art)

you're lucky they won't remember this by @spitzyyyy (fic)

Day 4: Giant’s Deep, Humor, Prophy, Sap Wine

Porphy and the Good Stuff by @cobaltbluesu (art)

Small Doodle by @noofl (comic)

This is a Speed Running Strat by @poisonhemloc (fic)

it do go down by @tksfandomhellhole (fic)

Porphy Tasting their Favorite Batch of Sapwine by @unnamedpebble (art)

Humor, Porphy, Sapwine by @jellyfish-grave (comic)

Behold! Sapwine! by @sawyer-is-eepy (comic)

Reflection under stormy green skies by CrimsonQuill086 (fic)

Thanks for Being my Time Buddy by SpaceMange (fic)

Day 5: Dark Bramble, Horror, Solanum, Ghost Matter

Noooo Hatchy by @unnamedpebble (art)

Our Friend with Ghostmatter by @noofl (art)

I Like to Think They are More Salamanders Than Fish by @poisonhemloc (fic)

The Horrors of Basic Biology by @tippertot (fic)

Solanum by @jellyfish-grave (comic)

Horror by @sawyer-is-eepy (comic)

Horror by @sawyer-is-eepy (art)

The Day After the End of the World by @tksfandomhellhole (fic)

Day 6: Space Station, Romance, Hal, Time Loop

White Hole Station by @unnamedpebble (art)

Hal and the Hatchling by @noofl (art)

Space Station by @660percent (art)

Space Station, Hal, Time Loop by @lutiaskokopelli (art)

River Chats by @poisonhemloc (fic)

If You Can't Talk Someone into Being Your Weighted Blanket Homemade is Fine by @poisonhemloc (fic)

Romance by @2isted-chocol8-art (comic)

Hal the Pal by @sawyer-is-eepy (art)

My future is in the forest of the stars by CrimsonQuillo86 (fic)

Day 7: Open Prompts

Time Buddies for the Soul by @unnamedpebble (art)

Don't Worry Guys They're All Fine by @noofl (comic)

Trailblazer 1 by @cobaltbluesu (comic)

Just a Weird AU Started by a Fall Out Boy Song by Fallout Boy (@poisonhemloc) (fic)

Universe by @2isted-chocol8-art (art)

Let's Walk Together by @jellyfish-grave (art)

Final Day by @eldritchcats (art)

Good-bye Campfire Fest by @sawyer-is-eepy (art)

The Divergence Hypothesis by @tksfandomhellhole (fic)

[bellofthemeadow]

Dawn ends the Night

Aemond Targaryen x Dayne!Reader

Rating: M for Mature (18 + no minors allowed)

Word Count: 2.8K

Warning: All warnings on the Series Masterlist, will update if necessary (Re-iterating, no minors allowed! Thank you)

Chapter Summary: As a newly woman grown, you learn of your fate as a woman in a men's world.

Notes: Guess who's back? Back again?! I AM BACK (again)!

Hello everyone, I'm thrilled to announce that I'm back! 🎉 After a brief hiatus due to my final undergraduate semester (which I just completed this past Monday – yay!), and amidst the hustle of graduate school applications, I'm finally able to return to writing.

I'm incredibly excited to embark on a brand-new series with you all. I've recently tumbled down the HOTD rabbit hole, and my obsession with Aemond Targaryen knows no bounds! 🐉 I assure you, my other fanfictions haven't been forgotten. I'm currently working on them and, with the festive season around the corner, I look forward to dedicating more time to writing and establishing a more consistent posting schedule.

Your support means the world to me and I love you all so so much💖 Feel free to reach out if you have any special requests, ideas, or if you'd just like to chat. I'm always so happy to connect with mutuals!!! Love you all

Taglist: (None yet)

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Prologue - The Ghost of Starfall

All your life, your father had assured you that you would marry into the Martel family, destined to reign over Dorne like the ancient Dayne kings of the Torentine. But these plans shifted when Quoren Martell welcomed his daughter, Aliandra, who was destined to become the future Princess of Dorne and Lady of Sunspear. And although the Dornish were much more unrestrained than their counterparts on the continent, you were quite certain that they would not accept you becoming the princess’ consort. Two women officially ruling Dorne? Even that would be a bit too radical for the love-loving Dornishmen.  

After his plans to make you the future ruling princess of Dorne fell through, your father started to envision a different future for you. You could still vividly recall nights spent perched on his knee, gazing up at the starlit sky. The cool desert breeze caressing your skin as you looked on in awe, your father's voice weaving tales of the grand life awaiting you as the Lady of Starfall. Those few precious moments, however, faded into memory with the arrival of your 13th birthday and the birth of Gerris. That misty morning marked a shift in everything when your brother came into the world screaming his little lungs out marked the end of your future as the Lady of the Dawn. As although Dorne's inheritance laws, shaped by Nymeria and the Roynar, endorsed absolute primogeniture, the stony Dornish your kin, those with deep roots in the First Men and the Andals, still favored the firstborn son. Technically, you knew you could challenge this tradition. You had the right, the means, and perhaps even the support of Qoren Martell to retain your birthright. 

Yet, as you watched your father, his eyes brimming with wonder and joy at the sight of his newborn son, a decision settled quietly within 13 years old you. And with a heavy heart but resolute spirit, you chose to step aside. You withdrew silently, without protest or fanfare, setting aside your claim for the love of your family. And as the years passed you by, you found yourself amid whispers and wishes for Gerris who was still but a babe, to inherit the revered honor of your house — the title of “Sword of the Morning," a symbol of unmatched valor and prestige among your kin, that only the braves and more chivalrous could inherit. Each mention from the courtiers was a poignant reminder of your own path, not as a son of House Dayne, but as its daughter. Not as the lady of the castle, but as its ghost, a ghost of better times, simpler times. But in quieter moments, you tried to find solace in the belief that there were other, perhaps more subtle, ways to serve and honor your family. You had read all that there was to read about rulership, about history and about philosophy and you knew that true power could manifest in a myriad of forms, not solely in the strength of arms. As you gaze upon the intricate tapestry of your family's history, you knew that your role was no less significant and that you would radiate with your own bright light. 

But for you, whispers of Dawn or grand destinies were absent, their echoes replaced by a more pragmatic reality. In place of tales of great adventures beyond the narrow sea, the halls of Starfall began to fill with a different kind of anticipation. The noble houses of Blackmont, Toland, Uller, and even the Yronwood sent their envoys and heirs. This cavalcade of suitors, a stark contrast to the dreams of your future before Gerris’ birth solidified your new role within the walls of your father’s castle. It was a shift, subtle yet profound, marking both an end and a beginning. You were no longer the future ruling Lady of House Dayne; you were now a key figure in its political future. 

Duty became a familiar companion, yet melancholia was your closest confidante, a shadow that dimmed the brightest of days. This deep-seated wistfulness made entertaining suitors an arduous task and instead, you found solace gazing from the high castle walls, eyes wandering over the sandy mounds and the winding Torentine, over the stony mountains that cradled Starfall away from the continent's heart. 

There, atop those ancient walls, you would lose yourself in dreams, wrapped in the embrace of solitude. It was in these moments of quiet reflection that you yearned to be something more, something beyond the expectations set upon you. They began to call you the 'Ghost of Starfall'. An ethereal presence, haunting the corridors and ramparts, a spirit adrift in her own thoughts, her dreams unfulfilled and stretching endlessly before her. 

But to your astonishment, your father never sanctioned any betrothals. Representatives from Yronwood, Blackmont, and Uller came and went, each departing without a pledge from the enigmatic ghost of Starfall. You refrained from asking why, harboring a fear that your inquiry might prompt your father to reconsider, possibly sending you away from your beloved star-gazing haven to the austere castles of Uller or the strict Yronwood. 

After your father's latest refusal of a suitor — a young, landed knight from the Reach, his brown curls soft and eyes a mesmerizing blend of green flecked with gold — you looked at your father, filled with uncertainty. “He seemed kind father.” you softly whispered. You could imagine yourself marrying this man, with long lazy days spent gazing into his warm eyes.  In response, your father rose from his starry throne and approached you, placing a gentle kiss on your brow. "My little star deserves more than a mere knight," he said softly. "I will find you a suitor worthy of the starry heavens, my sweet love." After this declaration, suitors ceased to arrive. 

Until this morning. 

In the dim pre-dawn light, your mother gently roused you, her movements quiet in the stillness before the castle stirred to life. With tender hands, she dressed you, her fingers weaving your hair into an intricate half-up updo, the lower strands cascading in soft curls. Her touch was soothing, almost melodic, as she adorned you in a gown of white and purple samite. Its gauzy sleeves fluttered ethereally, transforming you into the very ghost of legend whispered in the halls of Starfall. 

"Is it time?" you asked, a hint of apprehension in your voice, as she fastened a necklace around your neck, its purple stone shaped like a star glimmering softly. 

In lieu of a direct answer, she pressed a kiss to your forehead, her lips whispering a silent prayer. "Come, my sweet girl," she murmured softly into your hair. "Today, you must be strong." Hand in hand, she led you towards your father’s personal solar, each step resonating into the stillness of the morning.  

As you and your mother stepped into the solar, a sense of confusion washed over you. Before you, your father and Prince Qoren Martell stood in hushed, intense discussion, surrounded by a sea of scattered papers. They were so engrossed in their conversation that they failed to notice your entrance, prompting a deliberate cough from your mother. 

"Ahem," she cleared her throat pointedly, breaking their focus. 

The two men spun around, their expressions shifting from concentration to surprise. Your mother regarded them with a mildly unimpressed gaze, her poise unshakable. 

"My lords, a touch of gallantry, if you please," she chided lightly, gesturing towards you. 

As their eyes found you, you executed a graceful curtsy, the fabric of your gown whispering against the floor. Prince Qoren's face broke into a broad smile at the sight. 

"No need for such formality, my dear," he chuckled warmly. "Look at you, outshining the stars themselves! Fortunately, you've inherited your mother's beauty and not your father's," he teased, his eyes twinkling with mirth. 

A blush crept across your cheeks at his words. "Thank you, Prince Qoren," you replied shyly, "Your flattery is most kind." 

"It's not flattery if it's the truth, my dear," Prince Qoren Martell retorted with a playful wink. A heavy silence then descended upon the room, enveloping your parents and your distinguished guest, the great prince of the lands you called home. You felt like an unwitting participant in a jest whose punchline you didn't know, the unwitting fool in an unspoken joke. Yet, no laughter broke the silence. Compelled by your uneasy curiosity, you posed the question that hung unspoken in the air. 

"The journey from Sunspear must have been arduous, my Prince. We are honored by your visit," you began, your voice steady. "May I inquire as to the urgency of your need for me this early, and why the esteemed Prince of Dorne would grace us with his presence?" 

"Your wit matches your beauty, Lady," Prince Qoren replied with a sincere smile. "I've traveled from my home to discuss a certain missive, one that concerns both your father, yourself and the future of Dorne." 

"I gather this missive must be of great import to summon me before even the servants begin their day," you ventured, a hint of steel in your voice. "It seems a matter of secrecy." 

"Indeed, my daughter," your father interjected. "We've received a proposal regarding your hand in marriage." 

"And who might this suitor be, that his proposal warrants Prince Qoren's personal involvement?" you asked, your eyebrow arching with skepticism. 

"As your father's dear friend and as someone who has always taken a keen interest in your future, my Lady, all of Dorne has its eyes on you," the prince answered, meeting your gaze. 

Your skepticism remained. "So much so that it necessitates a journey from Sunspear?" 

Your mother, sensing the rising tension, interjected softly, "Come, sit with us, my dear." As you took your seat, your father tenderly grasped your hands, planting a soft kiss upon your knuckles. "The Dragons have expressed interest in you," he revealed, his voice laced with a mixture of pride and concern. 

Your breath hitched at the mention of 'Dragons.' There was only one house in all of Westeros and beyond that was associated with the winged fire breathing beasts. Starfall knew more than anyone else the dangers of their fire and of their wrath. 

Prince Qoren clarified, "This request likely originated from Otto Hightower. Our spies from the capital suggest the Greens are maneuvering for the throne. With old Viserys nearing his end, they're placing their pieces on the cyvasse board. Hightower may be a contemptible leech, but his cunning is undeniable." He stroked his dark beard thoughtfully 

But why would Otto Hightower want me?" you asked, your voice tinged with a mix of confusion and urgency. "Dorne isn't even part of their kingdom! We've aligned with the Triarchy and have been opposing the dragons since their arrival on our shores." The plea in your voice was evident as you looked over your parents and your prince, who stood unmoving yet deep in thoughts.  

"That is precisely why Otto Hightower is interested – not just in you, but in Dorne," Qoren Martell explained gravely, looking into your eyes. "We Dornish have a history of standing against dragons. We've never bowed, broken, or bent the knee. We know how to fight them, and we know hot to kill them. Now, Hightower wants our alliance to counter Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen's claim when they make their move for the throne." 

"But is Princess Rhaenyra not the legitimate heir? By Dornish law, she should be the future queen. If we were to engage in their politics, should we not we support the Blacks?" you questioned.   

"We might have aligned with Princess Rhaenyra," Qoren admitted with a hint of regret, "if not for her union with Daemon Targaryen. Remember the Stepstones? That debacle alone shows why it's dangerous for Daemon to wield any real power. He's not just a rogue; he's a warmonger." 

Qoren paused, weighing his words carefully. "Should Rhaenyra ascend the throne, Daemon would be right there, whispering in her ear. And let us be frank, he'd relish any excuse to launch an assault on Dorne, trying to conquer what Aegon the Conqueror couldn't. Whether it's for personal glory or just to satisfy his lust for war, it's a risk we cannot afford." 

A shudder ran through you at the thought of Dorne, bloodied and broken. Determined to prevent such a fate for your people, you asked in a subdued tone, "What is expected of me?" 

"Oh, my sweet girl," your mother murmured, enveloping you in a comforting embrace. "You are not obliged to do anything. If you wish, we will send Otto Hightower away with a message to shove his seven-pointed star straight up his arse, and we will stand against Daemon Targaryen if need be." she tearfully proclaim, her face in your hair.  

"You won't be forced into anything you're not willing to embrace. As for Otto Hightower, trust isn't a luxury I afford him as my experience with this man has taught me to be wary of his machinations. He is adept at playing the long game, and his latest maneuver is quite telling. By extending this proposal to your father and deliberately excluding me, he seeks to sow seeds of discord, perhaps hoping to weaken the unity that has long been our strength.His intentions, I surmise, are to draw you into the Hightower fold through marriage. Such a union could potentially sway Dorne's allegiance in the looming conflict for the Iron Throne."  

Pausing, Qoren looked out the window, then back at you with a solemn expression. "This is not merely a question of matrimony. It is a strategic move and our response will shape the future, not just for us, but for all of Dorne." 

You furrowed your brow in contemplation. "Why would we even entertain his proposal if his intent is to divide us?" you questioned. 

Prince Qoren's expression turned shrewd, cunning playing in his dark brown eyes"Precisely because we understand his motives. By accepting his offer on our terms, we control the game. It's like holding all the key pieces in cyvasse; we dictate the moves, and we can make the dragons dance to our tune." 

Your mind whirled, grappling with the enormity of everything they were telling you.  

"Consider carefully, my little star," your father said, "This decision rests in your hands. Whatever path you choose, know that we stand with you." 

"If I agree, may I set my own terms?" you asked softly.  

"Of course, my Lady," Qoren grants. 

"Accept Otto Hightower’s offer of marriage, tell him that we will aid him in his future conflict against Daemon Targaryen and the Blacks, but it comes with a non-negotiable stipulation: Dorne's independence is sacrosanct. We shall not yield to Targaryen sovereignty. Instead, we shall stand as allies, lending our support whilst retaining our autonomy. This, of course, hinges on your approval, Prince Qoren." 

Your mother's face registered shock. "But that would mean you'd be separating from Dorne, becoming part of their realm, no longer ours." 

“If it spares Dorne from being shackled by dragons, then I am willing to pay that price," you declared, feeling a shiver trace its way down your spine. With those words, you realized all that you were giving up. No longer would you be a daughter of Dorne; gone would be the nights spent stargazing from the ramparts, where stars seemed close enough to touch. You would miss the long walks on the ancient, stony steps, each one etched from the history of your ancestors. 

Gone, too, would be the fierce embrace of the desert sun in the mornings, its rays painting the sands in hues of gold and amber. You would yearn for the sweet scent of orange blossoms, a fragrance that always seemed to hold the very essence of your homeland. Instead, you would find yourself in the capital, and it would be there, in a place far from the lands that shaped you, that you would remain until the end of your days. 

My brave girl, stronger than any man in this land. A true Nymeria reborn," your mother said, her voice tinged with pride and sorrow. 

You mustered a smile, though it tasted bitter on your lips. "Nymeria was never bartered to a man she did not know. She carved her own destiny, fiercely and freely." 

"My girl..." your mother began, but you cut her off gently. 

"It's alright, Mother. I will fulfill my role to the end," you assured her, your voice steady, but your inside twisted uncomfortably. Who were you trying to convince, her or yourself? Your mother's breath hitched at your words, she closed her eyes holding you closer as if you would become a babe again, clutching at her skirts – not nearly a woman grown, ready to be delivered into the claws of the enemy.  

"Rest assured," your father added sternly, "If the dragons dare mistreat you, we will not shy away from invoking Joffrey Dayne's legacy and we will burn their city like their cursed beasts!” 

A pause hung in the air before you finally asked, "Who is it that Otto Hightower has in mind for me to marry?" 

"The King's second son, Prince Aemond Targaryen... the one-eyed prince.” 

Next chapter

[tiredmetalenthusiast]

Poems of Love (Gaz x F!Reader)

This is part one of the Love letter series (In slow process, please be patient). Starting off with everyone’s favorite pretty boy Gaz! This is just a love poem from reader to our helicopter surivor!

Warnings: Violence against another person, mentions of racism, hurt with written comfort, fluff, writer has very, very little military knowledge!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If you could have had it your way which you did but only a little bit, you would have scarred up the bitch that decided it was a great idea to talk shit about your sergeant. Price had intervened when he was brought in for the commotion, finding you and her in a pile on the ground of the mess hall, your fist repeatedly meeting her face. The guy she was with looked just as bad as she’ll look after Price had Ghost pull you off of her.

”Alright! What the hell is going on here?!” He turns to you expecting an answer, before you can speak however the girl you had been wailing on decided to speak up.

”She just went mental and attacked us!” Ghost scoffed, “Sounds like a load of shit private.” Ghost looks to Price who says nothing, still looking at you for an answer. “What happened, sergeant? I won't ask again.”

You took a breath to center yourself, placing a hand on Prices wrist, a sign you were truly pissed and grateful for your captain holding you back. You looked at Gaz who was staring at the floor, with Johnny patting his back. “Sir, the guys and I were simply enjoying our lunch, when Private Downs and her buddy Private Fallow decided it was an amazing idea to address Sergeant Garrick by racial slurs. I took it upon myself to defend his honor.”

Price looks at Gaz and Johnny, who confirm the story. Price turns you loose to Johnny so you can see if Gaz is okay. He had told you not to worry about it, to leave it be as it wasn’t anything he hadn’t heard before, he admired your sense of violent justice and need to defend him.

Price clears his throat, “Well, as it stands we here in the military, especially the 141, don’t take kindly to that sort of talk. You both being in the military, fairly new or not, should probably re-evaluate your life choices. If you find joy in tormenting your fellow high ranking officers perhaps we should remove you.”

”Remove us how?! It’s just words! W-we were just joking!” Ghost rolls his eyes and jostles Private Downs to shut her up. “You’ll shut your bleedin mouth! Sergeant Garrick is more of a soldier than you and your friend’ll ever be in your whole career!”

”Ghost take ‘em to my office. Sergeant!” “Captain?” “Good work defending your colleague, next time though try to make it a bit less bloody, eh? Cleaning duty for a week.” “Totally worth it sir!” Price and Ghost leave with Downs and Fallow in hand ready to put them through back to basic for behavioral and tolerance training.

Gaz had thanked you but told you it wasn’t necessary, he seemed distanced after that. Only saying hello in passing, you thought it was either what the two idiots had said or that he was mad at you, possibly both. Johnny and Ghost had assured you it wasn’t anything you did.

Taking the time you had to sit around after hours you penned him a letter. A poem really but you were hoping it would put him in a better mood. It took you a few hours but once you had finished it and read it over, you folded in up and went to slide it under his door for him to read in the morning.

-The next morning- Gaz pov-

He really wasn’t up for dealing with anyone today, especially not after yesterday's events, but none the less he had to get to up and start his day. Duty called and he had to be at morning training to help Ghost with recruits. He thought back to you and how fast you were to defend him, he was appreciative yes but it really wasn’t a big deal, it came with the military. Some people are just stuck in the Middle Ages like and you can’t help them.

Freshly showered and changed he was about to leave when he noticed a letter on the floor, his name scrawled across the front in beautiful script. He picked it up and sat at his desk to read it.

It looked like your hand writing but he doesn’t remember it looking so nice and neat, havin only ever seen you writing reports in messy, somewhat legible chicken scratch. As he opens it and begins to read he feels his heart swell.

‘To the prettiest man I know

Your bravery knows no bounds, leaving me breathless at your wonder. Akin to a warrior, a deity, war and peace become you. An angel.

Your beauty would be compared to that of Narcissus, of a warm summer day and lovely autumn nights. Your eyes bring delightful thoughts of dark chocolate in the shade and shine like the brightest amber whiskey in the light.

Skin aglow in the afternoon sun and glistening with sweat,  who could ever deny you? Aphrodite herself would bargain with you for your secrets. Would regale you with tales of beauty and mark you as one yourself and no one would bat an eye in disagreement.

I look upon your beauty and heroism with awe and hope that one day I could stand in even a shred of your greatness. If you were a god I would worship at your alter for all of my days, the most devoted supplicant, spreading your praises through any means.’

Gaz must have read it 4 times and he didn’t know what to say, his eyes were a little bit misty. Others had praised him yes, for his efforts on the field, his medals, but no one had ever called him a deity. No one had ever complimented his eyes like that. He rubbed at is eyes, letting out a huff, before folding up the letter and placing it in his desk drawer before heading out to morning practice. His heart feeling lighter.

If you would like to join the Tag list comment and I’ll add you!

Tag List: @cumikering

[yanderes-galore]

Hii!! Could I get Hiccup haddock with your prompts 2, 28, and 33?

These prompts so so interesting because it implies a more manipulative/dishonest Yandere Hiccup... which I plan to have fun writing >:) I have this set to female darling in my notes so I guess I'll just go with it, lol?

Yandere! Hiccup Prompts 2, 28, 33

"It's an honor for someone such as me to take you in and love you!"

"Do you know how hard it is to wear a facade? Just to get people to like you?"

"You ever think of our future children like I do?"

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Female Darling, MATURE THEMES (but nothing too graphic) Takes place after HTTYD 2, Obsession, Manipulation, Possessive behavior, Deceptive Hiccup, Threats implied, Mentions of baby fever, Hiccup wants kids, Strange displays of affection, You're both married, Implications of mature themes, Some graphic kissing/biting I guess, Dubious relationship.

You had a feeling Hiccup wasn't being honest with you. Before you got married he was kind and polite. He cared for you and acted like a partner should.

You were happy to accept his marriage proposal.

Then you started to notice certain behavior from him after all the vows were said and done. Hiccup changed once you were married. Once you were his wife... you thought you didn't recognize your husband.

He was still gentle and kind around you, all smiles and kisses. But soon an uncharacteristic possessive behavior began to brew within him. You could see it in his clouded eyes.

It was easy for Hiccup to intimidate those around him. As Berk's Chief with a loyal Night Fury, safe to say most back off from you with one glare. Hiccup never used to be so threatening before you married.

Yet now you catch his facade slipping at times, revealing a darker attitude underneath his usual one.

Has he lied to you this entire time? Has he lied to everyone this entire time?

You thought you could tolerate it. Maybe he's just stressed due to his new role of chief? Then the yearning for children started.

You notice his touches often drift to your stomach. He leans himself against you and kneads the flesh of your stomach softly while kissing you. You could tell these were all hints.

If you didn't understand it before, he outright told you as you were getting ready for bed tonight.

"Hey..." He whispers to you as you prepare yourself to sleep. "You ever think of our future children like I do?"

The question was expected but still managed to catch you off guard. You glance at your husband for a moment, unsure what to say. Eventually you sigh, you don't trust this new side of Hiccup.

"I don't think we're ready to be parents." You admit, Hiccup going silent at your words for a moment. It's as if he wasn't expecting you to decline.

"What do you mean? Of course we're ready! We're at a good age, I'm chief of Berk... what's making you have second thoughts?" Hiccup asks, standing up from the shared bed.

"It scares me that you haven't noticed." You admit, turning to face the man you once married so willingly. "You've changed, Hiccup."

"Changed?" The viking questions before chuckling softly. "Oh, you poor dear..."

Hiccup's tone takes a noticeable shift. You take note of the darker tone and go to say something, but instead Hiccup wraps his arms around you. You're pulled against his chest, his lips ghosting your ear.

"Do you know how hard it is to wear a facade? Just to get people to like you?" Hiccup whispers in your ear, grip tightening. "I'm tired of playing nice when my wife is having other men talk to her."

He kisses your cheek softly, but you notice his lips travel lower over time. Your breathing picks up, you can't tell if it's due to fear... or if you like what he's doing. This definitely wasn't the Hiccup you knew...

"It's an honor for someone such as me to take you in and love you..." Hiccup continues, nipping your skin occasionally. "I chose you to be my wife, to watch over Berk by my side...."

He pulls down your collar ever so slightly, before shifting his attention to your lips. He adores the blush on your face. Maybe you did like this?

"So why should my wife need to worry about other men? Who cares what happens to them...." Hiccup whispers, kissing your lips deeply. You kiss him back, not noticing Hiccup lead you to your shared bed.

By the time Hiccup pulls away, you're both out of breath and in bed. Hiccup smiles towards you, holding your chin before positioning you into a laying position.

"So what do you say?" Hiccup whispers, kissing you softly.

"Shouldn't we try for children? We'll make great parents."

[hyperfixiation-station]

For Better Or Worse

TW: Swearing, self-depreciation

Pairing: Gaz x Reader

Summary: In which the reader has hEDS and is feeling guilty

Is funny how much something can change over the course of two years. 

The picture you held in your hands filled you with a sense of longing. You stood in uniform, grinning brightly at the camera, sandwiched in between Soap and Gaz, who both had arms thrown over your shoulder. Ghost stood next to Soap, just barely touching shoulders, and Price stood next to Gaz, who was holding up bunny ears over his head. It was the last picture taken before you got honorably discharged. 

You sigh, placing the photo back on the dresser. You pull the drawer open so you can grab your wrist brace, the original reason you had come up here. You’re supposed to go wash the dishes, but the drive to do it disappeared as soon as you saw the picture. Instead, you sit on your bed, absentmindedly rubbing your wrist. 

Usually, you were good about being upbeat and not letting your thoughts get to you, but today was harder than most. Your mind flickers back to this same day two years ago, when you sat in the clinic, being told you wouldn’t be able to continue serving. 

Against your will, your eyes fill with tears. Not for the first time, you curse your stupid, broken body. As a kid, people had always told you it was just growing pains, that the hurt would stop as you got older. Then you hit 13, and never grew another inch, but the pain kept getting worse. You ignored it, and every other sign that something was wrong. You graduated, joined the military, and for 3 short years you served your country doing the job you loved. 

And then things changed. The pain got worse, and your achy joints began to pop out of place. At first, it was almost normal. You’d dislocate a shoulder sparring, sublux a rib while climbing a rope. But things got worse, just like always. It started small, dislocating an ankle when you pushed your chair back, dislocating a finger when you slept on your hand wrong, but then it got bigger, joints subluxing and dislocating when you went to grab a dish, or pushed down on something too hard. 

Finally, one night when Gaz found you in the kitchen, tears in your eyes, holding a shoulder that just would. Not. stay. In. Place. Did you go to see the doctor. 

Months of testing, blood draws, and X-rays later, you finally had an answer. 

“Hypermobile Ehler Danlos syndrome.” they told you, “A connective tissue disorder. There's no cure. And you can’t keep serving.” 

Of course you’d been upset, but you’d always been the kind to roll with the punches, so you shook it off and kept going. You started going to college, online, so you could at least do something with your life. 

But as the months went by it got harder and harder to go from a soldier to just a military spouse. You felt so fuckign useless all the time. Useless and needy and whiny and pathetic. Gaz would come home after being gone for a month, facing the risk of death everyday,  to a dark house because you couldn’t stand up for long enough to even make dinner without needing to sit down again. It was so fuckign stupid. 

Your vision blurs as you begin to sob. This wasn’t what you wanted your life to be like. You had wanted to fight, to protect and serve, but instead you were given a useless fuckign body that couldn’t even stand up properly. It was so fucking stupid. Stupid that your fingers constantly felt like they were broken, stupid that your ankle pops out of place because you move wrong, stupid that you pass out if you stand up too fast. Stupid stupid stupid so fuckign stupid. 

Not to mention how fuckign useless you were to everyone around you. Your husband should not come from an active warzone just to have to put up with you and your stupid, worthless body. He was so, so good about it too, which just made you feel guiltier. He would bring you heating pads, massage sore muscles, pop your shoulder back into place, and cater to your every fuckign stupid need. 

And what did you do? Nothing. Abso-fucking-lutely nothing. And you hated it, hated feeling guilty, hated being so needy, hated it, hated it, hated it.

Hands touch your face and you flinch back, not realizing someone had come into the room. It's dark now, and you wonder how long you have been sitting there. A thumb runs across your cheek, wiping tears from your face as you. 

You look up to see Gaz kneeling in front of you, frowning. 

“I’m sorry.” you sniff, cutting him off as he opens his mouth, “I didn’t realize what time it was.” 

“Don’t apologize.” He murmurs, “what’s going on?” 

“It’s nothing. I just…got in my head I guess.” You laugh weakly.” 

“Y/N, baby, I haven’t seen ya cry like this since, well…ever.” He runs a thumb along your lip before dropping his hands to your lap, sandwiching your hands with his, “Please let me help you.” 

“It’s just…today is hard.” A look of drawing realization crosses his face as you speak. 

“I know it is sweetheart.” He says softly, “But ya didn’t look this bad even when ya got discharged. What’s going on?” Your eyes well with tears again as you stare at the man in front of you, who is so worried and cares so much, and for what? A partner who only had 2 spoons at any given time? 

“Y/N?” He calls softly, “You with me?” 

“Why?” You whisper hoarsely. “Why?” He echos, confused. 

“Why are you doing this? Why did you stay with me? I am so fucking useless and I can’t give you the attention you deserve and I just-” A hand covers your mouth, cutting off what you were saying. You finally look up from your lap, meeting his eyes. He looks…hurt. He opens his mouth and you expect to hear something along the lines of ‘oh don’t say that’ or ‘you’re not useless’. 

“Do ya remember what we promised when we got married? He asks instead. You blink in surprise, not sure what he’s getting at.

“To have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part.” He recites, “Those weren’t empty words love. Sure, this wasn’t something we were expecting, but thus is life. If my arm got blown off tomorrow, you wouldn’t think less of me would you?” 

“Well there would be less of you so…” You tease, wiping your eyes. 

“You know what I mean.” He grins at you, standing up. He holds out his hand, gently pulling you up with him, a hand coming to steady you as your vision tunnels. 

“What do you say we go watch that creepy Supernatural show you're obsessed with and ignore the day?” He keeps his hand on the small of your back, guiding you to the stirs. You smile at him, grateful for the change in subject. 

“Gaz, honey, it's nighttime.” 

“Semantics.” You laugh at him softly, marveling at how lucky you were to land him. Things would never be okay, you would never be able to get rid of the nagging feeling of being utterly fucking useless, but with him by your side, life was a little easier to deal with. 

btw Pt.2 of L.L.A.T.P.O.I. is in the works :))

[mactavsh]

Follow the Bird [John “Soap” MacTavish x Reader] Part One

It wasn't unusual for a mission to go sideways, hell you'd grown to expect it at times. Going into an op alone was dangerous, but you knew the boys had your back. Soap would fight his way to you no matter the cost.

Warnings: violence, swearing, mentions of blood/injuries

also on a03.

I like to imagine Soap is the suavest guy ever until it's someone he's actually interested in. Then he's completely clueless.

This is my first reader insert so please let me know what you think! The callsign Bird was inspired by "Underground" by uselsshuman on tumblr. Highly recommend their work!

Chapter One - Emerald

Price had called you Ghost and Soap in for a meeting. Task Force 141 had been trying to track down Makarov for months, hitting dead ends at every turn. Something in your gut told you this time was different. Either Price was being cautious calling in just the three of his most trusted or you were overthinking things. Either way, it was better than sitting on base and waiting.

As you walked to the conference room you ran into Soap. You smiled seeing him and he did the same when he saw you. The two of you had always been close. Working some missions together early in your careers before both being recruited by Captain Price for the 141. As partners, you were a force to be reckoned with. Working as one you made quick work of any obstacle thrown your way. Add Ghost into the mix? The three of you were unstoppable. Other men often referred to your team and Bird and the Boys. The moniker “my boys” was something you loved to use with them and neither argued. Ghost was the brother you never had and Soap, well, Soap was something more you couldn’t quite put into words. The lingering glances always made you wonder if he felt the same way but in your line of work you tried not to entertain those thoughts.

“Think we’re going to get something solid this time?” He asked as you both matched paces, shoulders touching briefly.

“No idea. I am curious about the skeleton crew though. Why just us?”

“We’re the best, obviously.” Soap smirked and you lightly elbowed him in the side. You both approached the room and Soap opened the door for you. “After you, Birdy.”

You smiled and walked inside. Bird was your official call sign and the only people allowed to call you Birdy were in this room. Though that honor was mostly reserved for Soap. He, after all, coined the nickname.

“Soap, Bird, glad you both made it.” Price spoke from the head of the table gesturing for the two of you to sit. Ghost was already there, Soap sat next to him smacking him lightly on the shoulder as he did. Ghost rolled his eyes at the Sergeant. Watching the two act like annoying siblings always warmed your heart. You smiled and sat next to Soap. Once everyone settled, The Captain began.

“You three are headed to Russia. We got intel that says one of Makarov's top advisors, Igor Kuznetsov, is attending a gala in St. Petersburg.” He sets a photo down on the table as he speaks, an older heavy-set man sporting a large white beard. “Naturally our normal tactics won’t quite work here. Lucky for us I know someone with spy experience who is fluent in Russian.”

All eyes turned to you. “You want me to, what, get all dressed up and kidnap a man?” You questioned.

Price laughed. “Not quite. According to our intel, he carries around a flash drive at all times. Supposedly it contains privileged information. I’d like to know what that might be. Y/n will go inside, Soap and Ghost you’ll be positioned on opposite rooftops as backup.” Price laid building schematics on the table, pointing to a large room he continued. “The reception hall is surrounded by windows; a sniper's best friend. You both will keep an eye on Bird as she secures the drive. Igor doesn't often bring a lot of men to these events so you shouldn’t meet much resistance. He also loves getting drunk at these parties. A little sleight of hand and you’re home in time for supper”

You nod and look to your right, Soap has a look in his eyes you can’t quite place. “She’s going in alone?” He asked. Price nodded.

“She’s more than qualified. Two of the best snipers I know will be watching her the entire time. Plus do you know how many weapons she’ll be able to hide under a dress?” The Captain smirked. “Your plane leaves at 0400. Any questions?”

“No sir.” Came the chorus of replies.

“Good. Watch out for each other. Dismissed.”

—

The flight to Russia was uneventful. You caught up on some sleep before the pilot informed you all that he was beginning his descent. Soap was sitting across from you, you notice him staring before he quickly diverted his gaze. Ghost was next to you and must've noticed as well.

“Think he’s worried about ya.” Ghost spoke so only you could hear. “I don’t love it either but Price is right, you're more than qualified.”

You smiled at the compliment. “Thank you, Ghost. He was right about another thing, I have two of the best snipers to keep an eye on me.” Ghost winked in response.

The plane landed and the three of you headed toward the awaiting car. Soap drove the three of you to the safe house to go over the plan one more time and wait until night.

When it came closer to go time you stepped out of the room to don your dress. It was a simple yet elegant gown. Silky emerald green fabric covered you with an asymmetrical neckline over your right shoulder, a belted waistline, and floor length skirt. You didn’t often find yourself in situations where you were able to dress up but you allowed yourself a moment to enjoy it.

Snapping back to reality you started strapping on various holsters. Price was certainly right, you can hide many weapons under a dress. You finished by hiding a live mic under the fabric on your shoulder. Wearing an earpiece would be too obvious so you settled, this way the boys will be able to hear everything going on. You threw your hair up into an elegant bun and went out to meet them.

They were both at the table checking weapons when you walked in, Soap was the first to notice. He looked at you completely entranced, Ghost noticed and followed his gaze. The taller man smacked him on the back of the head. “You look lovely, Birdy.”

Soap snapped back to reality. "Stunning," was all he could blurt out.

You blushed ever so slightly at the compliments. "Thank you, boys. Ready to roll?"

"Absolutely." Ghost replied, grabbing his gear as he followed you toward the door. He opened the door for you and waited until you were outside to yell back at Soap, who was once again frozen in place. "Are you coming or are you going to stand there all night drooling?"

Soap tensed, quickly grabbing his gear and heading outside. "Fuck off, Lt."

Ghost smirked under the mask and closed the door behind him.

—

"I've got eyes on target." You spoke discreetly as you sipped champagne. It wasn't hard to find Igor in the crowd. The only problem was he had a bigger entourage than expected. Lucky for you they weren't armed guards, just businessmen blowing smoke up each other's asses. Typical. You thought as you made your way over.

You walked right past the man, head held high, sipping champagne. That was all it took, he shooed away the men near him and followed you.

"[Excuse me miss.]" He spoke in Russian, stepping in front of you. For how heavy-set he looked he was surprisingly fast.

You put on your best smile while handing your empty glass to a nearby waiter. Act the part. "[What can I do for you?]"

"[No miss it's what I can do for you.]" He reached out, grabbed your hand, and kissed it. You fought the urge to vomit.

Act the part. You reminded yourself. You stepped forward placing a hand on his shoulder. "[So polite, what did I do to deserve such attention? ]" You smiled trying your best to flirt despite wanting desperately to just punch the man, grab the drive and run.

"[That's a wonderful question, little Bird.]" Your stomach dropped, you've been made. "I don't much like people crashing my parties." He spoke in broken English. The lights went out briefly then back on revealing the other party guests to have been soldiers, now ready to fight. This whole thing was a trap. You allowed yourself only a moment of worry for Soap and Ghost before refocusing on the army in front of you. After all, they were much safer than you were at the moment.

Quickly you punched Igor. Stunning the Russian long enough for you to reach your hand into his coat pocket, grabbing the drive. You turned to run only to see you’ve been surrounded. You stashed the drive in your bra and grabbed one of the knives you stashed.

It wasn't unusual for a mission to go sideways, hell you’d grown to expect it. You were quick on your feet ready to fight your way out. Just as you were about to attack the room was locked down, and metal began to roll down covering each window. Before they fully closed shots rang out, and half of the men fell dead on either side of you. A moment of relief washed over you knowing they were both okay. Thank you boys now it's my turn.

You flipped the knife in your hand and stabbed the man trying to attack you from behind. You turned, pulling your pistol out and shooting three of the men closest to you. The soldiers had a similar idea, a few pulling their pistols out as well. You ran toward cover but not quickly enough. Pain seared through your left shoulder as a bullet ripped through the muscle.

“[Get her!]” Igor yelled at his men as you ducked behind an overturned table. Realizing the odds were not in your favor you pulled out the drive and stashed it underneath a floorboard, scratching a faint symbol into the wood with your pocket knife. Just enough for someone who knows what they’re looking for.

They all surrounded you once again. You shot a few before you ran out of bullets. Pulling out another knife you lunged at the one nearest but you were quickly overwhelmed. One shot you in the thigh knocking you down and you dropped your knife in the process. You reached out for it on the ground only to have one of the soldiers stomp his boot on your wrist. You concealed a wince as Igor approached.

“I told Makarov this was a good plan.” He gave a crooked smile before he signaled to one of his men. The soldier quickly brought down the butt of his rifle to your temple and everything went dark.

part two here

[nakedtoasterr]

Male reader month | March edition

Welcome to my male reader month post! This is part of a monthly series of posts I will be making compiling MR posts from throughout the month! This post is for March and I found 15 fics for you all to enjoy. Please like and reblog this post as well as the fics linked. ☆(≧∀≦*)ﾉ

Sfw section

The perfect gift | part 1 - part 2

Reader x Jungkook

CW: none

Written by @gayslayzen

—

Healing through touch

Reader x

CW: none

Written by @ihugpedro

—

Change

Reader x Chad Meeks

CW: angst, fluff, mentions of bullying

Written by @roses-r-rosie3

—

Sagau x Gn!Reader head cannons

Reader x Sagau

CW: none

Written by @t0mmy-bear

Sorry abt the fact that there’s only 4 fics here not everyone got back to me in time

Nsfw bottom reader section

Incubus

Reader x Kaoru Hakaze

CW: Dub-con, rough sex

Written by @mariondeux

—

Jealous diluc headcanons

Reader x Diluc

CW: Spanking, rough sex, overstim, possessiveness

Written by @melonn-soda

—

Fill me up pretty please

Reader x Ghost

CW: breeding kink, biting (just like one sentence), overstimulation

Written by @killmeprettypleasee

—

Through the skin (ftm inclusive)

Reader x Rodrick

CW: piercing fetish, grinding, first time, protected sex

Written by @pansywriting

—

I got what you need

Reader x Yuta Okkotsu

CW: jealousy, semi-public sex, praise, degradation, finger sucking, kissing, doggy-style, creampie, undepicted aftercare, possessiveness, exhibitionism

Written by: @dabisbratz

Nsfw top reader section

Present for the birthday boy

Reader x Illumi

CW: Hair pulling, Breeding, Face fucking, Degrading, Use of sex toys, Fingering, Nipple play, Sounding, Overstimulation, Orgasm denial, dumbification, Eating out, Sir kink, Choking, Cuffs

Written by @secretivemessenger.

—

New boss (ftm character)

Reader x Steven Grant

CW: Public (Bathroom) Masturbation, Fingering, Squirting

Written by @l1tw1ck

—

Sub Cyno and Tighnari x stressed out dom male reader

CW: none(?)

Reader x Cyno and Tighnari

Written by @nsfw-lone-wolf-nergiganos

—

Krunt Kunckle

Reader x Kurt Kunckle

CW: Crossdressing, leash, caught

Written by @urm-0-m-ish0t

—

Your body’s bangin’, out of control!

Reader x cole cassidy

CW: vanilla, some hair pulling(?), praise

Written by @c-nstellati-ns

Honorable mentions

@floweerbby

If you’re a bottom reader this blog is for you! They posted their first fic just yesterday!

If you’re interested in some good quality fics with immaculate writing follow this blog and keep an eye on it.

@blank-slate-jay

A good page for some nice sfw male reader, if you’re not in the mood for the nasties go take a look! (Fair warning they have 2 nsfw fics up but it’s majority sfw rn)

Special thanks to everyone who gave me permission to add their work (·ω<)

If you have any criticism for me or even just recommendations for next time feel free to dm me/send an ask. Please also remember to follow all these amazing creators and keep writing y’all!!! We love you