#she knows her son is doing well from the stories shes managed to hear but not everything

[bluerosefox]

Possessed Pearl's

You know how in some ghost stories sometimes its not a person or a land that's haunted but the items?

Well what if, when looking for a mother's day gift for his mom, Danny is looking around a pawn shop and finds a necklace, it's missing some pearls but it's just enough to pass off as a decent gift. Danny humms but decides against it and goes to leave it....

That was until he gasped out blue frost and spots a ghostly woman appear out of the necklace with a somber smile. She isn't as seeable as the other ghosts in Amity though, meaning she doesn't have enough ectoplasm on her own (that might change the longer she's in Amity and around Danny though) and that right now only Danny can see her.

And Danny well... hes been doing his hero gig for a bit now, might go and ask if there was anything he can do to help.

And later Danny's good deed... bites him back. Oh boy. Because now he has the Bats looking into Amity Park... Wait what do you mean Martha is now strong enough to be seen?!

[bet-on-me-13]

The Hades and Persephone AU

So! It had been a coincidence. One of the Rouges Cass had been chasing down had dropped a stray Bullet Casing, and she had managed to miss it as she ran after them. All they could hear through the Comms was her startled yelp as she tumbled 3 Stories, directly onto her Back.

Batman had rushed to the scene, hoping that his daughter was still alive, but when he got there he came across a very different sight. A Tall, shadow covered Knight Carrying Cass in his Arms. Before he could do anything, the Shadow Knight turned away and walked deeper into the Alleyway, were a Lazarus Green Portal stood waiting.

Batman could only watch as his critically injured daughter was kidnapped by some sort of Dark Armored Demon. And into a Portal glowing with the same light as a Lazarus Pit no less.

When he returned to the Cave, Bruce immediately contacted Constantine. Within the Hour, Constantine had arrived and had been lead to the scene where Cass had been taken.

"Well, I don't know what you did to catch their ire but it seems like Orphan was kidnapped by a Realms Being." He explained, "And by the looks of it, by the Right Hand of the Ghost King himself. How did you manage this?"

"Where can we find her?" Asked Batman in a Hard Tone. This was his Daughter, and she had just been kidnapped by Royalty from another Realm. He didn't know why, but they were going to pay.

"Well, the Ghost Zone is a treacherous Realm. Ordinarily I would advise against even considering going there, but I know you will either way."

Constantine gave them Directions to a small town in Illinois, where supposedly a pair of Techno-Mages had managed to open a Permanent Portal the the Ghost Zone. They would have all the Weapons, Armor, and Transportation he would need to venture into the Zone.

Finding the Tecno-Mages was easy (though they preferred the term Ecto-Biologists), and surprisingly convincing them that they needed their help was even easier. Once Batman explained that his Daughter had been kidnapped by a Being from the Zone, they offered their help immediately.

"We understand, if it had been one of our own Kids who had been kidnapped, we would be doing the exact same. If only we could get into contact with our Son, he has connections in the Zone that may be have been useful, but he's been busy for the past few days."

After a day of preparing, the Team was ready to delve into this alternate dimension to save their Missing Family Member.

...

Meanwhile Cass is living out her Mythologically Accurate Romantic Fantasy (I have a headcanon that Cass adores myths). She was basically Kidnapped like Persephone, except it was under very different circumstances.

Basically, David Cain had made a deal with the Previous Ghost King. David would be given access to Fresh Lazarus Pits for the League, and in return the Ghost King would be given his daughters hand in marriage upon her Death. And while Cass was technically still alive, her Near-Death Experience had drawn enough Ecto to her that it pushed her Liminality past the point of Human Limits. She was no longer technically Alive, so the Contract had activated.

Thankfully, when Fright Knight noticed his new Queen-To-Be's condition, he had rushed her to the Far Frozen to be healed. Then he brought her to the Castle and had informed Danny of the development.

Now, Neither of them was really ready to be married, but a Contract like that needed to be canceled by the one who made it. And Pariah was still locked in his Box. So, they had delved into the Ghost Writers Library to see if they could find a Loophole.

And Study Dates have never been so fun.

Even though she isn't ready to be married yet, Cass still thinks that Danny is kind of cute. And she likes his goofy little smile, and his slightly glowing eyes, and his smooth white hair, and-

Oh, that Persephone comparison might have been a little more accurate than she thought...

[corroded-hellfire]

Scout's Honor - Eddie Munson x Reader

Collaboration with my dearest @munson-blurbs

An As You Wish story

Summary: The annual Father-Daughter Girl Scout Square Dance comes around but Eddie and Steve are saddled with some car trouble.

Note: Everyone needs to go thank Bug for this incredibly adorable idea!

Words: 2.1k

[As You Wish masterlist]

Men. 

Can’t live with them, can’t…convince them not to go fishing on the day of their daughters’ Girl Scouts events. 

Eddie and Steve had promised you and Nancy that they would be home in time to take Eliza and Mia to the annual square dance. 

“We’ll get an early start,” they’d said, ignoring Eliza’s insistence that she won’t go with her father if he reeks of fish. He’d just laughed, kissed her cheek, and reiterated that he would shower before the dance. 

Maybe you’re naive for believing him. And yet, when the phone rang and Eddie’s sheepish voice explains that Steve’s car broke down—codeword for ‘we ran out of gas’—you’re wholly unsurprised. 

“I always made fun of Wayne for fishing.” Eddie muses, the payphone crackling as he exhales. “Called it an old man activity. This is what I get.”

You grit your teeth, hand clenched in a fist. “Just…get home,” you hiss, hanging up the receiver and massaging your temples. 

Who could have ever foreseen such an outcome?

While you’re stewing over the men’s incompetence, Mia remains levelheaded—just like her mother—and proposes a solution. “What if Luke and Ryan take us?”

Her suggestion is almost certainly rooted in her crush on your younger son, but it proves to be a worthwhile idea, nonetheless. Eliza’s face lights up, and before you know it, your five-year-old is dragging her brothers from their room. 

“Please?” She pouts sweetly, batting her doe eyes up at them. “Daddy and Uncle Steve can’t make it, and we can’t go all alone.” She lays it on thick, knowing full well she doesn’t have to—the boys would do just about anything for her. 

Ryan and Luke raid Eddie’s dresser drawers for flannels, finding the ones that he had nabbed from Wayne’s trailer. The girls don cowgirl hats, excitedly giggling as they climb into the back of the minivan. It’s still strange for you to see Ryan behind the wheel, but your heart swells with pride as you watch him double-check Eliza’s booster seat before pulling out of the driveway. 

At seventeen years old, Eddie Munson spent his Saturday nights selling cheap weed at high school parties—many of them, ironically, thrown by “King” Steve Harrington. 

At seventeen years old, Ryan Munson is spending his Saturday night taking his little sister and her best friend to the Girl Scouts square dance. 

“Everyone buckled?” He calls back, already knowing that they are. Still, he waits until he receives a chorus of yeses before he drives off. 

Luke turns around from the passenger seat. “Now, do we have to make a perfect square?” He keeps a serious expression, much to Ryan’s amusement. “Like, what if it’s a bit oval-y? Do we get kicked out? Do you two get banished from the Girl Scouts?”

Eliza and Mia are both used to his nonsense, and they burst into a fit of giggles. Ryan cracks a smile of his own, eyes trained on the road. 

Precious cargo and all that. 

When they arrive at the old VFW hall, the girls immediately pull them over to their group of friends. It’s a sea of young girls and their dads—and some moms—but nary a big brother in sight except for the two Munson boys. 

Ryan barely has time to feel out of place. The emcee, a middle-aged woman with bright pink lipstick and a too-wide smile, grabs the mic. 

“Welcome to our Father-Daughter Square Dance!” The room erupts into applause, quieting down only to hear about how this fundraiser supports the Girl Scouts of Indiana. The scouts repeat their pledge, which is met with more cheers, and then a western tune bleats over the old sound system. 

Eliza grabs Ryan’s hand as the emcee calls out instructions. Mia is a bit shyer with Luke, but they still manage all of the steps without stomping on the other’s toes. 

“Liza, I’m sorry Dad couldn’t make it,” Ryan says between songs. 

Eliza gives him a small smile. “That’s okay. It’s kinda cooler to bring my big brother.”

He grins. Just wait until his dad hears that. 

As everyone is getting into position for the next dance, a new song comes on that has more banjo than Luke has ever heard in his life. 

“Oh, yeah. We’re definitely in Indiana,” he says.

Mia chuckles as she peeks up at Luke from beneath the brim of her straw cowgirl hat. A blue ribbon on one of her red pigtail braids is loose so Luke reaches down to fix it for the little girl. Mia’s freckled face blooms as red as her hair. Luke pretends not to notice, not wanting to embarrass her. The big crush on Luke became obvious when she was three, and now at ten, it’s still hanging around. The fifteen-year-old Munson boy thinks it’s flattering and only ever teases her if she starts it first. 

“Ready?” Luke asks, offering Mia his hand.

“Ready!”

“But I didn't realize any of this until I was standing alone. In a barn... wife-less. Now, you can imagine my disappointment when it suddenly dawned on me that the woman I love is about to be kicked out of the country. So, Margaret. Marry me. Because I'd like to date you.”

Both you and Nancy hold your wine glasses, neither moving a muscle as you watch Ryan Reynolds catch up to Sandra Bullock in a New York City office building. An empty pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream sits between you on the couch, two green-smudged silver spoons resting inside. 

With the men out fishing, Ryan and Luke out with the two girls, and Natalie watching the rest of the kids over at the Harrington house, your place became the ultimate Mom’s Night In for you and Nancy. A chance to drink a little, gossip a little, have some snacks and watch some romcoms. 

Your peace has finally come to an end, however, when the front door bursts open and two men who reek of murky water, bug spray, and gasoline come barging in. 

“Jesus, Steve,” Nancy says, face pinching up at the foul odor wafting from your husbands. 

You wave a hand in front of your face as if that will make the smell dissipate any faster. 

“How were the fish?” you ask, turning your head away to give your nostrils a fighting chance.

“We caught a grand total of zero,” Steve says with a sigh, his black fishing boots looking comically misplaced on him. Neither of the men look natural in fishing gear. But when a guy from work offered Eddie the use of his boat for the day, he found he couldn’t turn it down. 

“Did you bring the fishing poles?” Nancy asks, sarcasm lining the amusement on her face.

Both men give her an annoyed side eye before Eddie looks around and takes a step towards you.

“Where are the girls?” he asks. 

“Ryan and Luke took them to the dance,” you tell him. “They should be back soon.”

Steve grimaces and claps a heavy hand down on Eddie’s shoulder.

“Eliza’s gonna kill you.”

Eddie raises his eyebrows and spins to meet his friend’s eye.

“And Mia won’t kill you?”

Steve grins. “Not if she got to dance with Luke.” This is the only time the man has ever been thankful for Mia’s crush on the Munson teen. 

Front door still open from when the men barged in, Ryan, Luke, Eliza, and Mia walk inside, laughing and talking over one another. Ryan is giving Eliza a piggyback ride and Luke has Mia’s too-small cowgirl hat perched on top of his head. The moment Eliza’s wide brown eyes spot her father, she demands answers. 

“Daddy, where were you?”

Ryan gently lets her down and she stomps over in her beige cowgirl boots, stopping right in front of Eddie. 

“Liza, I’m so sorry,” Eddie pleads. “Our car broke down. We tried everything we could to get back in time—”

Tears build up in Eliza’s eyes and Eddie feels his heart constrict in his chest. It might as well be Eliza’s little fist squeezing it.

“You were s’post to go with me!”

Eddie sighs and runs a ringed, smelly hand over his face. “I know. And I promise I’ll go next time. But I’m glad you got to bring your brothers. 

“Did you have fun at least?” Steve asks from behind him. 

Mia nods emphatically and both you and Nancy have to bite your lips to keep from smiling. 

Eliza nods in agreement, although not as enthusiastically as her friend. “Yeah. And Ryan is a good dancer.”

Luke smirks, and if Eddie were looking at him, he’d see the devious glint in his eye. “Not as good as Dad, I’m sure.”

Loud snickers come from you, Nancy, and Steve. Eddie’s jaw drops open as he looks around the room. 

“I can dance!”

“Yeah, Dad?” Ryan asks.

“Yeah!”

“Lucky for you, we’re all right here to witness it,” Luke says with a shrug. 

Eddie scoffs and shakes his head. “There’s no music. And I don’t really think my Metallica is easy to groove to.”

“We’ve got my Billy Joel—” you start.

“Or my *NSYNC!” Mia adds. 

“No,” Eddie says. “Thank you girls, but no.”

Smirk only growing larger, Luke pats his father on the shoulder. “Lucky for you, we’ve got just what you need.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow as he watches his son take a CD out of a Target bag he was conveniently hiding behind his back. 

“How was fishing, by the way?” Luke asks as he wrestles with the plastic engulfing the case.

“Pointless,” Steve says.

“Your uncle didn’t bring enough bait,” Eddie added. Steve is about to refute but Luke speaks before he gets the chance.

“But you would have, Dad? Does that make you a master baiter?” 

Ryan is the only one who is unable to contain his laughter. The joke goes over the girls’ heads, but you give your son a soft glare anyway. Never mind that you found it hilarious, just as you know the other adults did as well, but sometimes you’ve got to be the parent. 

Luke shrugs it off and pops the finally-freed CD into the stereo and the sound of a bow sawing over fiddle strings fills the room. Your second-oldest nods his head to Eliza.

“Go ahead, Lize. Show the old man how it’s done.”

“There’s not enough room to square dance in here,” Eddie says.

Without even so much as glancing at one another, you and Nancy get off of the couch and push it back, making plenty more space in the living room. The two of you smirk at one another and Nancy crosses her arms over her chest.

“Y’know, I don’t think it’s fair that you guys get to reap the benefits of your daughters being Girl Scouts without putting in the work.”

A grin grows on your face as you see where Nancy is going with this. 

“Yeah,” you agree, “maybe you don’t need more Samoas this year.”

Eddie’s face falls, and he looks at Steve, who shrugs in defeat. Gotta hit the guys where it hurts: food. 

“All right, show us the moves,” Steve says.

Mia grins, a bounce in her step as she takes Eliza’s smaller hand and walks to the middle of the floor. “Okay, me and Liza will be partners. Just watch us.”

Steve furrows his eyebrows and looks between the two girls, one with now-messy twin red braids, and the other with a light brown cowgirl hat atop two curly pigtails. 

“Wait, if you two are dancing together, who are Eddie and I dancing with?” he asks. 

Eliza giggles. “Each other.”

“Nope,” Eddie replies. “No way.”

With an over dramatic sigh, you shrug your shoulders at your husband. “No dancing, no Samoas.”

“Damn those little coconut fuckers,” Eddie mumbles under his breath. “All right, big boy. But I get to be the guy.”

“Sure, we’ll play pretend,” Steve quips back. It’ll be a miracle if they both make it through the first dance alive.

Eliza and Mia begin to go through the motions, showing their fathers what to do. Everyone is laughing as they do-si-do and hook arms to swing each other around. 

“Did I earn my cookies yet?” Eddie asks once the next song ends.

“That’s up to your daughter,” you tell him with a shrug. 

Eddie looks at Eliza expectantly, the big puppy dog eyes that he passed down to her working their magic. 

“Almost, Daddy. You gotta dance with me first.”

“Now that, I can do.”

[ikaroux]

How are they with their pregnant companion? Ayato, Cyno.

Synopsis: Pregnant, your husband/partner is over the moon. But how would he take care of you during pregnancy?

Style: Cute, fluffy, female reader.

Bonus NSFW (18+) I remind minors to avoid reading this kind of content.

Warning: May contain story spoilers for some characters.

Characters: Ayato, Cyno.

TAGS : @atsukawolfcat

Note: I have a hard time writing for Itto and Heizou, knowing that I didn't have a "crush" on his characters. I see Itto more as a child who grew up too fast, as for Heizou, I have difficulty to assimilate the character. I would have much less trouble writing about Tighnari, who I find adorable <3

Yes, you'll notice that for Cyno, it's a bit longer, but he's my big favorite from Sumeru! I've been looking forward to this character since her appearance in the official Genshin Impact manga.

I'll probably look into the marriage proposals for those I haven't done yet as well as the "jealousy" theme.

I have a project in mind for a genshin impact fanfiction (in a dark style but with a Harem <3). A long term project, but I don't know yet if to do so, I have to go on AO3 to publish, since it will be a story with several chapters… I'm still thinking about it!

Have a nice reading!

Part 1 Diluc, Zhongli, Kaeya, Xiao, Venti, Albedo, Kazuha, Childe.

Part 2 Scaramouche, Dainsleif, Thomas.

Part 3 Dottore, Pantalone, Alhaitham

"Are you pregnant?"

Ayato dreamed of becoming a father, and has since the day he met you. From the moment his eyes fell on you, he knew that you would become his companion, his wife, the woman of his life, and, he hoped, the mother of his children. He loved you from the first moment he saw you, and from the day he married you, he treated you like the most precious thing in the world.

When he found out you were pregnant, Ayato thought his heart would stop beating. He didn't know what to think or what to say to you, but by the archons, he was so happy with this news.

Gently grabbing your face, he placed kiss after kiss on your lips, laughing softly each time he stealthily pulled away from you. How could you make his life such a delight? Words didn't come to him, a rare thing for a man of his size, so it was with his gestures that he expressed his joy. His arms gently encircled your waist to bring you closer to him. His hands caressed your lower back, and as he stopped kissing you and slowly laid his head in the crook of your shoulder, you could feel him shaking against you, a sign that tears were coming to his eyes. Although his whispers were barely audible, you knew he was thanking you with an emotional voice, over and over. Smiling, you placed a kiss on his temple, happy to give him what he had longed for…

You both wanted to let Ayaka and Thomas know. They were people you could trust, family members, able to take care of you when Ayato was away for a long time. Ayaka would let tears of joy flow upon hearing the news while Ayato would allow himself to hug the head of the family for the first time.

Ayato would be very protective during the whole pregnancy. He had been protective before, but now he seemed much more on guard. Of course, he wouldn't be glued to you all the time, it wasn't in his character, but you could, at times, feel the warmth of his gaze envelop you.

The first few months of the pregnancy had been very difficult. You spent most of your time throwing up what you had just eaten or complaining of an unbearable headache. Ayato could not put himself in your shoes, but he could help you relax. As soon as you felt able to lie down in your bed, Ayato would join you, wrapping you in the warmth of his arms, gently massaging your back until you fell asleep.

He's especially keen for you to rest on him. The memories of his mother being pregnant with his little sister Ayaka were still etched in his mind. His father was often absent because of his work and she had to manage her home alone in addition to the education of her young son, Ayato. Your companion refused to let you go through the same thing, his mother's pregnancy had been difficult because of the fatigue and stress caused by his father's absence, which had greatly weakened him. He would never forgive himself for doing the same to you.

In Inazuma, the tradition was that the father chose the name of his child, but Ayato, who was a more modern man, wanted to give you that privilege. You would still share together the names you would like to give the baby. It was obviously a moment of complicity and laughter between the two of you.

Ayato will always bring you a little treat that will make you happy (nothing strange, of course! He doesn't want to make you sick.) He knew that with pregnancy, you often crave something sweet and sugary! Most of the time, you'd end up with a little bag of konpeito, those little star-shaped candies that you thought were adorable, but would be emptied within minutes in your hands…

The baths would be a privileged moment between you two. Ayato would take advantage of this moment to cherish your round belly. His hands caressed your skin in a tender circle, sometimes feeling the movements of the baby inside. He loved having you in his arms, his lips frequently kissing your shoulders, your neck or your lips.

You often fell asleep before he came home from work. Ayato would usually find you lying on the bed, a book resting casually on your stomach. Expecting to see his beloved wife asleep, he would come and sit by your side, gently pulling the book away from you. Ayato would lovingly stroke your hair, tucking a few stray strands behind your ear. He would tenderly kiss your face, your eyelids, your lips, before moving to your belly to give it as much attention. Wishing his child a good night in a whisper, he would move away from you to change and finally join you in the sweet haven of sleep.

The more your belly rounded, the more tired and sore you were. Your back was hurting, your ankles and shins too and, by the archons, you were finding it harder and harder to get out of bed as your belly was starting to weigh heavily on your back… Ayato would take a few weeks off to make sure that the end of the pregnancy would go smoothly.

Ayato would be a really gentle and loving father, never raising his voice against his child. He would take care of his child's education like his father before him, but would be much less strict.

Bonus NSFW:

Ayato found you so desirable when he saw you with your rounded belly. Of course, he always felt a strong desire for you, but seeing you standing in front of him, pregnant with his child, awakened a fire in him that he never knew existed. For a long time, he tried to put his fantasies aside, thinking that it was better to avoid any sexual relations during your pregnancy, but that was without counting your own desires…

He would always take the time to take you to your bed or any comfortable surface. Ayato always took the time to prepare you before penetrating you. And God only knows how good he could be with his tongue. Moreover, after several weeks of abstinence due to fatigue, migraines and nausea, you had become extremely sensitive. Ayato always had this sadistic side to him, over-stimulating you simply with his tongue and fingers.

The very idea of you already being pregnant with his child was driving him crazy. As he penetrated you with torturous slowness, you could notice that his gaze remained constantly focused on your belly. He wouldn't lie on top of you for fear of crushing you. Then he would wrap your legs around his hips, torso high and straight, sitting on his knees, while his hips slowly hit your buttocks. He would listen carefully to every moan, every call of his name that you would make…

Ayato would endure the pain perfectly, denying himself his orgasm before he gave you as much as you could handle. He would end up inside of you though, watching between a few sweat-soaked blue locks of your exhausted body. You were his wife, the mother of his unborn child, he was so proud to have you in his life. Laying down beside you, Ayato would take you in his arms, whispering his love for you, while his hands massaged your lower back.

"Eh?"

Cyno let his spear slide slowly from his hand as he looked at you with big round eyes. He didn't dare move, for fear of breaking the moment. Perhaps he had misheard what you had just said? After all, you had always protected yourselves during sex, thinking that it was better to wait until you had finished your studies at the academy to build your home. He didn't know if he should be happy about this news or if he regretted putting you in an embarrassing situation… He wanted to start a family with you, but not at the expense of your future… "Y/n, I… I'm sorry, if I had been more careful you-" You placed your index finger gently on his lips, cutting off anything he was about to say. "I don't regret anything Cyno. I'm really happy to be carrying your child." The mahamatra general placed his hands on your waist, plunging his ruby eyes into yours. "What do you plan to do with the academy?" You smiled at him, confident. "Being pregnant won't stop me from continuing my studies!" His once tense expression gradually softened as he heard you speak. He had confidence in you, in your skills, and he would definitely be the first to support you…

Cyno was an extremely tender man with you. Every time he came home, the first thing he did was to take you in his arms and give you a hug. He would ask you every day how you did for the day and if your nausea was better. He wouldn't tell you directly that he was constantly thinking about you and worried about leaving you alone. But Cyno was like an open book to you, his body language and focused questions letting you know his concerns. Pregnancy made him a little too much of a mother hen…

Let's talk about the mood swings that caught you both off guard. Cyno is a man who is used to dealing with criminals or researchers who cross the line of the academy's laws. Not even Candace can make him tremble. He is the one who dominates and intimidates his opponents. But you are definitely the one who freezes him in place when something pisses you off. He won't say anything, but his round eyes speak volumes… He'll probably think that women can be scary sometimes.

Since you were pregnant, you were very eager for contact and attention. He used to welcome you into his arms when he sat on the living room couch and quietly read a report from the academy. Most of the time, you would silently cling to him, wrapping your arms around his back, gently rocking him against the mattress so you could lie on top of him. With your head resting on his chest, your heavy eyelids would begin to close, lulled by the sound of his breathing. This is how he occupied his late afternoons, keeping your form asleep against him, one hand gently caressing your back as he read his reports.

Cyno would proudly hold your hand as you walked out together, exposing to all of Sumeru your belly that was getting bigger by the day. His face would remain impassive to the curious murmurs of the locals. Cyno was a man both feared and respected in the whole region, nothing more natural for these inhabitants than to remain silent when the cold eyes of the general mahamatra fell on them. Cyno was proud to be the father of your child. He loved you, both of you, and protecting you had become his only priority.

He would never forgive anyone who hurt you. The first time you came home crying, you explained to him that your professors and students blamed you every day for ruining your life by getting pregnant with a child that will only be a burden to your studies. The anger that boiled up in your lover made you tremble, yet he controlled it, trapping you in his arms to reassure you, to calm your shaking and crying. He would make sure to silence anyone who hurt you, no matter what means he used to do so…

Cyno likes to see you stroking your round belly in front of the mirror, examining your reflection and the size of your belly. Seeing you like this reminded him that in a short time he will be able to hold his child in his arms. Joining you in your contemplation, Cyno would embrace you from behind, placing his hands on yours while his face, lazily resting on your shoulder, contemplated with a tenderized look each of your movements.

Cyno would talk a lot about his anxieties as a father-to-be to Tighnari and Collei. He didn't have a very good experience with children, who mostly found him scary. Even Collei, who had known him for several months, was still a little frightened by his cold and distant behavior… Tighnari advised him to confide in you, after all, you were the mother of his child and the one who knew him best.

During the pregnancy, you had caught yourself having moments of doubt. Sitting in front of your scrolls, your leg shaking from stress, you didn't know if your choice to continue your studies while pregnant was a good idea. When Cyno saw you, he didn't need you to explain to him to understand what was bothering you. Placing one of his hands on your shoulder, your exhausted eyes searched his, surprised to see him home at such an early hour of the day. He had promised himself to spare you any unnecessary stress, so, being the man he is, Cyno decided to tell you his best jokes to make you forget your fears and finally see your smile again. Pulling you against him, foreheads gently brushing against each other, he continued on and on, until he heard the melodious sound of your laughter. - "Shut up you idiot…" - You whispered against his lips. - "They're not even funny." - Cyno tenderly stroked your arms, smiling back against you. - "You'll think they're funny if I explain the background…" - Slowly rubbing your nose against his, you finally silenced him with a soft kiss.

As you slept, Cyno would come and sit beside you, tenderly caressing your belly with a small smile on his lips. He always waited for you to fall asleep to create this intimate bond with his child.

You often talked to your belly, telling your child stories about his father or about yourself. Cyno enjoyed listening to you, but didn't dare join you in your discussion. Noticing his insistent gaze on you, you laughed before stroking your belly, tilting your head down so your child could hear you clearly, "Daddy is shy baby, but don't worry, he's very sweet." Upon hearing the word "daddy," Cyno's cheeks took on an excessive shade of red. His heart was beating wildly as happiness overwhelmed him… In a few weeks, Cyno will be able to hold his child in his arms.

Cyno will be a patient and protective father. When we saw him with his baby in his arms, his eyes were always burning with love for him. His relationship with his child was, without a doubt, fusional.

NSFW Bonus:

Cyno was sitting cross-legged on the gold-colored carpet, his ruby eyes watching the fireplace where a blazing fire lit up the room from its center. You were going about your business until your gaze focused on the serene form of your lover. The light from the fireplace projected onto Cyno's beautiful face, whose gaze remained focused on the burning flames. He was so beautiful and you desired him so ardently… How could you resist the need to unite with him? To feel him deep inside you? You didn't want to resist anymore. Slowly, you walked towards him.

Cyno, who was always a man on the lookout, immediately looked away from the flames to watch you. He let you straddle him, admiring the curves of your body as you sat on him. His hands instinctively placed themselves on your hips whose thumbs came to caress in tender circle your skin. Your round belly pressed against him, warm and comforting. And, as your hands pulled his headdress off his head and then cupped his face, you tried to distract him with a simple question. "What are you thinking?". He took a while to answer you, his senses remaining focused on the lips attached to his neck. "Nothing amazing. I was just thinking of a way to improve my card game…" A low moan escaped him as you rubbed your hips against his member, which was hardening with the attention you were giving him. Your teeth nibbled at his neck, slowly working your way up to his earlobe and in a sensual voice you whispered, "Now what?" A shiver ran through his body as you began to languidly kiss his jaw. His hearing remained focused on the sounds of your kisses as his hands slowly moved up your tunic to the skin of your hips. He didn't respond, preferring to tilt his face to link his lips to yours in a deeper, sensual kiss. So needy…

Cyno hadn't dared touch you since you were pregnant, for fear of rushing you. However, your sexual appetite had increased tenfold in the last few months. In the end, frustration and abstinence had made you both tense and thirsty for each other. Cyno pulled you away from him, his hands working to remove your remaining clothes… Your belly was perfectly visible in front of him and he couldn't help but put his hands on it, curious about what his child could feel. You wanted to be patient, to let your companion enjoy this intimate moment, but you couldn't take it anymore. The pain between your legs was crying out for relief.

Cyno was keeping pace with you, helping you undress his proudly erect member. Already naked on top of him, you were ready to welcome him into you. The matra plunged his sweaty face into the hollow of your shoulder as you guided his sex between your lower lips. Slowly, your hips began to rock above him, accompanied by your gasps.

Both of you were insatiable, though exhaustion invaded the muscles of your body, you wanted to keep claiming him. Cyno would eventually lay you down gently under him, protected by the carpet that covered the floor. One of his hands would hold onto the back of your head to keep you from discomfort, and as soon as he was sure you were safe from injury, his hips would start rocking again at a rapid pace.

Your sex was intense and sensual. Despite the changes in your body, Cyno never stopped wanting, loving and pampering you. This man is completely addicted to you.

[foreverdolly]

wanna play house | protective austin!elvis x reader

this is a continuation of 'my bestest girl', but you do not have to read it first in order to read this one. . . however i implore you to do so.

summary: elvis's mother has been worried sick about your safety during your time on the road with her son. you and elvis brush it off as her just being paranoid, but danger always manages to rear it's ugly head at the worst of times. elvis, seeing you scared and slightly injured, absolutely loses it.

pairings: protective austin!elvis x reader

word count: 7,471

warnings/notes: SMUT! ,violence, elvis beats the shit out of someone for you and it's hot, oral (f receiving), elvis literally worships you as though you are a goddess and i love that for you, you both cry while he eats you out because emotions are high and he's obsessed with you.

masterlist | requests are currently closed !

It had been a pain in the ass to talk the Colonel into letting you come along with him and the band as they performed with Hank Snow for the fair, but Elvis had made it happen. The two of you had only been going out officially for the last couple of weeks, but it was obvious to anyone with eyes that the two of you were disgustingly in love with one another. If you were within eyesight then Elvis was looking at you. If you were in the other room, he was bound to follow after you like a lost dog. If you weren’t around at all, then he was surely thinking about you. It was a never ending cycle, really. You were just as bad off as Elvis was. You always had to be touching him, whether it be your hand in his, your shoulder pressed against him, or even your legs thrown up into his lap. The bandmates were positive that eventual drama would arise, but the two of you always seemed to be in high spirits. 

The screaming fans didn’t bother you, not when Elvis went out of his way to let you know that you were the only girl that he truly cared about. Everyone had fallen into a comfortable pattern, you included. “Yes ma’am. I’m makin’ sure he’s eatin’ well.” You twirled the wire of the hotel landline around your finger, watching the ebony haired boy getting dressed out of the corner of your eye. He was buttoning up his white slacks and caught your heady gaze in the mirror. With a wide smile he wordlessly made his way over to you, chuckling under his breath as you quickly reached out, running your free hand over his chest and giving his nipple a teasing squeeze. He playfully swatted your hand away, reaching down to grab his lace shirt off of the queen sized bed the two of you were sharing that night. “I’m just worried to death about the two of you, baby. I don’t want any of those girls hurtin’ him. . . and I know how horrible some boys can be.” Gladys’s love knew no bounds, and you appreciated her for it. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes a little though, leaning your hip up against the desk that had been squeezed into the small room. 

“I’m keepin’ a very close eye on him, darlin’. You know I wouldn’t ever let anythin’ happen to our boy, right? Besides, we’re out in the country. I’m sure nothin’ bad will happen all the way out here. The scariest thing we’ve seen these last four days have been a couple of drunks.” Elvis chuckled from the bathroom, the sink turning on as he began slicking back his hair. You could already smell his Brylcreem pomade from where you stood across the suite. “Now is he keepin’ a close eye on you? At the end of the day, I know Elvis can hold his own. You’re a different story.” You couldn’t remember a single time that you had felt unsafe thus far on the trip. Really, you knew that she had the propensity to overreact, but she had been going on for the better part of half an hour at this point. You were trying to be patient with her, but you could only take so much. Gladys was worse than your own mother, and you weren’t sure how that feat was even possible. “Mama, I don’t need any sort of protection. I can hold my own! Cross my heart and hope to die.” You could hear her scoff, but Vernon’s low voice whispered on the other end. “Stop holding our youngins hostage. Elvis has got a show to put on.” You had already started walking in the direction of the bathroom, stretching the phone cord as far as it would let you. “Do you want to talk to Elvis before we have to leave?” “Would you put him on? Thank ya, baby.” Elvis held up his wax coated hands to show you that he needed some help, so you pressed the phone against his ear for him. 

“Hey, Satnin.” He purred to her, shooting you a small smile before letting his eyes fall down to the counter. You couldn’t hear Gladys’s voice from where you stood, but judging by the way he was nodding his head up and down dully, you were sure that he was getting an earful. “Uh-huh. . . No, I’ve been lookin’ out for her. She stands at the front of all of my shows, mama. I’d die if somethin’ were to happen to her.” You smiled down at the floor, biting at the inside of your cheeks in the hopes of getting your heart back under control- it was fluttering at a maddening pace. “She’s with me every second of the day. She never leaves my sight, I promise ya- He what? Daddy wants to talk to me? Put him on.” Elvis placed his comb down on the side of the sink, licking his lips before looking at himself in the mirror. He must not have liked what he saw because he grimaced, shooting your reflection a goofy look as he waited for his father to get to the phone. “Hello?” A couple of seconds passed before he was rolling his eyes, shaking his head back and forth. “I’d kill em’. Simple as that. I promise you both that I won’t ever let anythin’ happen to her. . . Yeah- Yeah, she is our girl, so imma take good care of her.” He was running the comb back through his hair, tucking a few strands into place absentmindedly. After a few more seconds passed he turned his cheek, pressing his lips up against the receiver and mumbling a quick “love ya too” before giving you a look. You walked back into the hotel room, hanging up the phone before turning to face the bathroom. 

“What are they goin’ on about?” You asked, hurriedly getting out your own suitcase so that you could get dressed. You had been on the phone so long with Gladys that you hadn’t had any time to get ready for the concert. Elvis was particular about certain things, and he liked the idea of you guys matching when he performed. If he wore a baby blue shirt, then you wore a baby blue dress. If he was dressed in all black and white- like tonight- then you did as well. You didn’t mind much. It looked wonderful in pictures, and it made you feel even more connected to him. It warmed your heart that he liked not only being a couple, but looking like a couple too. He had always been very particular about the clothes that he wore. Despite the fact that you also came from a working class family, things had never gotten as financially troublesome as it had for the Presleys. Elvis had grown up poor, but he always made a point not to look it. His mother always made sure his clothes were freshly ironed and pressed and that his shoes were always shined. 

Elvis had always been a rather particular fellow, and he hadn’t always been celebrated for it. People calling him a “fairy” or “squirrel” didn’t get to him though. Not anymore, at least. He was above the name calling, coming to the conclusion that it said far more about their own character than it did his. He always handled it relatively well back in high school, though he knew that most of the name calling and trash talk stemmed from the fact that the other boys his age were probably just jealous. 

“Mama said she’s been havin’ a bad feelin’ about somethin’ lately. They’re both worried about ya, is all.” Elvis had always been over cautious with you, even throughout your friendship. If he didn’t seem worried about it, then you wouldn’t be either. “She’s been a nervous wreck ever since you told her about the Louisiana Hayride. She’s probably just feelin’ a bit anxious.” He hummed his agreeance, a comfortable silence befalling the two of you as you began getting changed. Your dress was a rather scandalous little diddy, what with the rather low cut heart-shaped neckline and the way the hem was just above your knees, showing off your legs. It was something you had purchased for yourself months ago but had been unable to wear due to your parents' rather conservative ways. You pushed your way into the bathroom at the same time that Elvis was finishing up with his hair, his eyes instantly locking on your reflection in the mirror. “Good god almighty.” He mumbled, dropping the comb back onto the counter so that he could turn around and face you. His blue eyes trailed over your smaller frame, his lips parted as he took in the sight of you. Elvis had made it a point to explore every inch of you over the last few weeks. He took his time committing every mole and freckle to memory. He was certain that he could draw you with his eyes closed, and the man could barely sketch a stick figure. 

Despite that, every time he made love to you, or even got a glimpse of you, it still felt like the first time. His stomach would fill with butterflies, his palms would start to sweat, and his pants would grow impossibly tight. In all the years that he had known you, never had he seen you in a dress like this. The sweet little babydoll nighties you’d prance around his room in were a completely different story. This was a masterpiece. You were a masterpiece. “You’ve got me sweatin’ worse than a whore in church. God damn it, my girl is so beautiful.” He lifted his hand up to his face, biting down on his knuckle with a small grin. You couldn’t help but blush at the sudden onslaught of compliments, shyly waving him off with a small flick of your wrist. There wasn’t much room in the tiny motel bathroom, so you couldn’t duck away from his arms even if you wanted to. He was quick to pull you towards him, his hands moving over the cinched waistline of the dress, slowly brushing down to run his fingers along the hip. You shivered as you felt his touch against the skin of your thighs. 

“How ‘bout we just stay in, hmm? I could tell the Colonel that I got food poisonin’ or somethin’.” It was nearly possible to deny him of anything he wanted, especially when he looked at you like that. Ever so slowly he began backing you up, smiling smugly as you let out a small yelp whenever your back hit the wall behind you. “Let me make love to you, yeah? I’ll make it quick. I promise-” A knock at the door made the both of you jump, but he soon threw his head back with an exasperated groan, his eyes screwed shut. “What is it?” He called, popping his head out of the bathroom door so that the intruder might hear him better. “We’re startin’ to pack the cars up, EP. You two dressed and ready yet?” You bit your lip as you pressed your back tighter against the wall, hoping that the added space between you and your beau might calm the growing heat between your legs. “Shit.” Elvis cursed, giving you an apologetic look before taking a step back from you. He looked down at the front of his trousers, wincing as he noticed that he was visibly hard. He took a couple of seconds to try and adjust himself in a way that wouldn’t make it so obvious, but gave up after a while. “I’m comin’. Give me one second Scotty.” He brushed past you on his way to the door, giving you one last suggestive look before prying his gaze away. He opened the door just a sliver, hiding his bottom half the best he could.

 “You don’t even have your shoes on yet. What the hell have you been doin’ this whole time?” Scotty asked exasperatedly, his eyebrows furrowing in slight annoyance. Elvis looked behind him at the cars, wincing as he noticed people were already climbing into their seats or pulling out of the parking lot completely. “We’ve been busy.” He said simply. Scotty looked over Elvis’s shoulder, his eyes widening slightly as he noticed your flushed cheeks. “Doin’ what, exactly?” The dark haired boy didn’t take kindly to the fact that someone else was seeing his girl in such a state, so he was quick to grab the edge of the door, closing it enough so that only his face and a small sliver of the room inside could be visible. “We were busy, alright? I’ll come out in a second. Let me just get my things together.” Scotty threw his hands up in surrender after noticing the look on Elvis’s face, taking two steps back from the door. “Be quick about it. We go on after Snow, and I’m tired of hearin’ the square complain.” Elvis was quick to shut the door, jogging over towards his suitcase so that he could find his shoes. “Baby? Do you mind doin’ my eyes like you have em?” He motioned to his eyes with his finger, flashing you a small smile. 

You weren’t about to give your boyfriend a smoky eye, but you hoped he’d be alright with just some eyeliner and mascara. Not that his long lashes needed them anyway. “If we’ve got time, hun.” Your legs still felt a bit weak, what with the heavy petting from earlier, but you managed to walk to your purse so that you could grab your small makeup pouch. Elvis buttoned up his black lace shirt as you gently dragged some dark liner over his upper and bottom lashline, being careful to smear it a little after you were done so that it wouldn’t be too stark against his complexion. “Here, now close your eyes.” You ran the mascara wand through his lashes, cooing softly to him as you realized just how blue it made his eyes look. “And open em.” He obeyed, his hands moving up to grab you softly by your hips as you finished up. “Am I pretty?” He asked with a teasing smile, tilting his chin upwards, which was his way of silently asking for a kiss. You complied, giving him a quick peck before pulling away to nod. “Gorgeous.” 

Elvis was the only boy that you had ever met that preferred to be called pretty rather than handsome. He was putty in your hands any time you referred to him as ‘your pretty boy’. Well, who was he kidding? He was always putty in your hands. He would be a liar if he said that he wasn’t used to female attention. He’d say ‘thank you’ with that signature side smile of his- but the grin- it was reserved only for you. The corners of his eyes would crinkle and his nose would scrunch up. It made him look so childlike. So vulnerable, and it was only something that you were allowed to see. You knew good and well that there were certain aspects of Elvis that you would have to share with his fans, but he made sure to reserve the most sacred parts only for you. 

“Thank ya, baby.” He mumbled, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear before he stood up and off of the bed. 

The drive to the fairgrounds was awkward, but Elvis seemed to be the only one that didn’t get the memo. He had one of his hands in your lap, playing subconsciously with the fabric of your dress while he spoke under his breath to you. It was mostly hushed compliments, but the second that the bright lights of the fair became visible he started whispering gentle instructions. “I don’t want ya gettin’ lost in the crowd, alright now? Make your way to the front, just like we practiced. I want to be able to keep my eye on ya the entire time.” The ebony haired man had talked a big game back in the motel room, but you could tell that whatever his mother and father had said to him carried some weight. He seemed a little bit more antsy than he did the previous night. Despite the fact that nothing appeared to be out of the ordinary, you still nodded, allowing him to pull you along through crowds. The closer you two got to the stage, the quicker people began to take notice of him. Girl’s turned their heads, some even going as far as to drop their date’s hand as he passed. He didn’t pay any mind, instead he kept his eyes locked on the stage, trying to find a good place for you to go. “Here, push your way right there.” He leaned in close so that you could hear him over Hank’s singing, pointing with his pinky, his newly purchased ring shining in the bright artificial light. You nodded, smiling against his lips as he gave you one last kiss before jogging to catch up with his band. You were quick to follow instruction, easily maneuvering through the crowd, muttering apologies as men and women turned to glare in your direction. 

You weren’t quite sure why, but you were starting to become nervous yourself. It felt like someone was watching you, and had been since you and Elvis passed the admission gates. You anxiously looked over your shoulders, trying to see if there might be anyone you recognized, but alas- nothing. You tried to swallow back the strange sense of dread that was beginning to bubble up in your throat, instead focusing on the stage in front of you. Hank Snow was a talent, but surely wasn’t your cup of tea. His ballads were too slow and shallow for your liking. Too safe. Elvis had been the one to get you hooked on good music way back in high school. You still clapped for Snow whenever he took a bow, flashing him a small smile. You and Elvis had been playing nice with the man. You two had a strong feeling that he didn’t take too kindly to the two of you and the flamboyant way you both decided to live your lives. He was never outwardly rude to you at least. Elvis wasn’t so lucky though. 

The second that the forest green suited country singer had stepped off the stage, it was almost as though the entire crowd took a collective breath to steady themselves. You bit the inside of your cheek as a few girls started pushing against your back, your chest and hips pressing uncomfortably against the wooden stage. In a single millisecond the aura had completely shifted. A few older patrons began to walk away from the stage, but it did nothing to lessen the crowd. People began running across the fairgrounds to make it to the stage in time. 

Scotty and Bill stepped on stage, dragging their instruments along with them. Girls began gasping, whispering amongst themselves as they waited for Elvis to join them. “Have you seen his picture in the paper? He’s the most handsome man I’ve ever seen!” “My friend lives in Shreveport and saw him at the Louisiana Hayride. She said she’s never seen anything like it.” You couldn’t keep the knowing smirk off of your lips. If they thought he was beautiful from a grainy picture alone, just wait until they saw the way that the music moved him. You pressed your hands against the top of the stage, Scotty and Bill flashing you a quick smile just before the crowd erupted with loud screams. It made your ears ring. Elvis jogged up on stage, guitar in hand. His bare arms flexed as he gently strummed the chords, stepping up to the mic. “It’s an honor to be able to play here for you all tonight.” He called over the loud screams and cries. There was something perversly satisfying about seeing the hold that he had over everyone, knowing good and well that you were the only person that has ever and will ever touch him. Not even in the girl’s wildest fantasies would they ever know what he was truly like behind closed doors. The eyeliner that had the girls swooning? You had put that on him yourself. The soft sheen to his lips? That was the lipstick that had transferred onto him from your mouth. 

The girls could hoot and holler all they wanted. You didn’t blame them one bit. You didn’t feel even a little jealous as they began calling his name, begging for even a shred of his attention, because you knew that he was yours. He knew it too. His eyes instantly scanned the crowd, his shoulders visibly relaxing when he finally found your form. After Elvis and the boys had given the crowd a few moments to quiet down, they began playing their first song. The sound of Elvis’s voice and the quick, near violent way he strummed his guitar was unlike anything that you had ever heard before. It had changed something inside of you. You could tell that the crowd was having the exact same reaction as they watched him, swaying to the sound of the music. Some girls looked like they might pass out, their faces going pale and their eyes growing glassy. This was the kind of music that concerned mothers and fathers warned their children about. Rock and roll. 

Elvis was rock and roll. It wasn’t just a type of music or a way of dressing for him. It was the way that he lived his life. It was a state of mind. It was a state of being. His hips and feet moved as though he was possessed by God himself. He may as well have been. You could feel the standup bass in your chest, and Elvis’s guitar in your throat. Your blood fizzled like champagne as you watched him, his eyes bluer than a summer sky, his bubblegum pink lips pulled taught against bright white teeth as he screamed into the mic. His eyes moved over the crowd, and suddenly he was on his knees, leaning back to look up at the night sky as his fingers flew over the neck of the guitar. 

You couldn’t help yourself as you reached out, no better than the screaming fans as you brushed your fingers over his thigh, needing to touch him. You didn’t know how, but he instantly looked at you, as if he could feel that you were the one touching him. His eyes burned as he took in the expression on your face, his lips curling back into a snarl. Girls distantly screamed behind you as they took in his expression. 

Something like this wouldn’t be romantic to some, but you melted against the stage, your torso leaning further against the hardwood. You were sure to have bruises tonight, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. You needed to be closer closer closer. Your body ached for him. You could feel his guitar vibrating through you, his heavenly voice bringing back memories of last night. Of how he loved to press his lips against your ear to purr and moan. He wanted you to hear every heavy breath, every gasp, every preen- and as he practically laid himself out on that stage, girls trying to grab at whatever they could, he had never felt more yours. He grabbed your face in his hands for a split second before he was standing back up, moving over to the mic so that he could finish up the song. 

By the second song there were at least three pairs of panties on the stage, which both you and Elvis regarded with wide, humor filled smiles. 

Elvis sang with a violence that he never let shine through in his everyday life. He got up on that stage and sang for his mama, his daddy, you and God. He belted up to the heavens for the angels to hear. You could feel the damn near desperation as he swayed his body, his hair falling into his eyes, dripping with sweat. 

After the third song you felt as though you might faint yourself. You could barely breathe as girls continued to press against you- crushing your ribs against the stage. You were never the type of girl to follow instruction very well, so despite Elvis and even Gladys’s worries, you found yourself slipping through the crowd, breathing hard as you tore your way through the writhing bodies. Your eyes swept over the grounds, and you were quick to make your way over towards a refreshment tent. “Can I just get a cup of water?” The carnie recognized you as Elvis’s girl instantly, smiling as he saw your pink cheeks and shaky hands. You sat down on a nearby picnic table as you greedily gulped down the water. You could hear his voice from across the grounds, tapping your foot along to the beat as you tried to enjoy the last of his performance. 

“Whatcha doin’ over here alone?” You jumped as you heard a deep voice sound from right beside you. You had been so wrapped up in the music that you hadn’t even noticed someone approaching you. You blinked, turning around just to make sure that there wasn’t someone else behind you that the man must have been talking to. Alas, you were the only person in the vicinity. “I’m waiting for my boyfriend to get done performing.” You pointed to the stage, slowly placing the cup down on the table just in case you needed to quickly excuse yourself. He sat down beside you anyway, nodding his head slowly. The refreshment tent was a hundred feet away, and you were in an area with barely any lighting. You were beginning to become more aware of the precarious situation that you had somehow put yourself in. “Ah, right. I saw you walkin’ hand in hand with that scrawny musician.” Your eyes quickly narrowed as you stood up and off of the table. “I don’t take kindly to people bad mouthin’ my loved ones, ya understand? If a conversation was what you were lookin’ for, then find it elsewhere.” You spat, pointing over to another populated area. He blinked, seemingly taken aback by your bold nature. 

“Woah. . . you sure are loud for a tiny lil thing,” You took a step back as he stood up and off of the table himself, shoving his hands into his pockets as he gave you a once over. “Maybe you shouldn’t go ‘round dressin’ like that if ya don’t want strangers approachin’.” You could have socked the man right in the face. You began shaking with anger, clenching your fists at your sides. “What does my outfit have anythin’ to do with you unnecessarily runnin’ your mouth? Did ya think you insultin’ my boyfriend would make me interested in you? Hah!” You let out a loud, humorless laugh. “Like I said earlier; move along.” You shooed him off, reaching out for your water cup. You let out a scream as he grabbed you roughly by the wrist, your shoulder cracking as he roughly yanked you forward. “Watch yer mouth, girlie.” He spoke to you through clenched teeth, his eyes wide and wild. You swallowed thickly, fear hitting you like a freight train. You could distantly hear your boyfriend working the crowd, your stomach flipping anxiously as you realized he was about to get off stage and realize you weren’t there to greet him. 

“Let go of me. Rough housin’ with a lady out in public like this isn’t very gentlemanly.” You tried to yank your sore arm back to your side, but he didn’t let go. He added even more pressure, and you cried out in pain as you realized that he was damn near close to breaking it. “I don’t let women boss me ‘round.” His free hand moved up to your hair, his fingers gripping roughly as he jerked your head back. Was he about to kiss you? Touch you? 

You were unable to run now, and so you knew that the only option you had was to get someone’s attention. Anyone’s. “Help!” You screamed, your eyes prickling with tears as you tried to move your head in the man’s hold, hoping to avoid whatever he was planning to do with you. A beat passed before you finally sucked in another breath, screaming again. “Elvis!” Your boyfriend had been speaking into the microphone, but the second that you had called his name he went silent. You could distantly hear a loud clatter and a few females calling out his name, but you were too focused on the older man’s face to pay attention to much else. He was dragging you further into the darkness by your hair, and you stumbled blindly forward, reaching your arms out to push as hard as you could against his chest, even going as far as to bang your fist against his shoulders in the hopes of somehow fighting him off. 

It all happened so fast, you didn’t even have time to blink. You stumbled backwards, the breath being knocked from your lungs as you hit the grass. Hard. You could hear a tussle behind you, and you blinked back tears as you slowly sat up. It was like everything was happening in slow motion. The red faced stranger had been pushed back against the picnic table, pinned there, and your boyfriend stood above him, muscles bulging as he gripped him by the front of his shirt, wailing on him with his right arm. Again and again he connected his fist with the man’s face, his teeth clenched, the veins in his arms bulging as he let out a deep, guttural scream. Elvis had somehow, by the grace of god, heard your voice over a hundred screaming girls and came running to your rescue. A loud sob escaped your throat as both relief and pain overcame you. The pitiful sound only spurred him on. 

“I’ll fuckin’ kill you. Ya hear me? You’re dead!” Elvis’s deep voice called, a small crowd already beginning to form. You tried to stand up on shaky legs, embarrassment flooding your veins as you realized what kind of a state you were in. “E-Elvis. . . He’s had enough, baby!” 

Elvis had been pushed around and beat on his entire life for looking and being the way that he was. Over the years he had learned how to fight. How to win. He might have been smaller than the brute, but it wasn’t the size that mattered in this case. No- it was the skill and ferocity that your boyfriend possessed. That and the white hot rage. Elvis’s eyes were wild as he stared down at him, not letting up even for a second. The man had tried to push back against the ebony haired musician, but the blows to the head had kept him in a dazed state. Elvis’s gaudy golden ring made contact with the man’s temple again and again. The crowd began to part as a few men broke through, moving to try and pull your man off of the assailant. “You’re killin’ him, Elvis! Stop! Please, for the love of God!” At the sound of your distress he was quick to let go, shrugging the men’s hands off of him as he quickly made his way over to you. “Hey, hey. Talk to me darlin’. What happened.” His eyes flickered over your face wildly as he panicked. He stopped himself from reaching out for you when he realized his knuckles were caked in blood, wiping them off on his white pants. He brushed your hair off of your sweaty forehead, pressing his own forehead against your cheek, desperate to have you against him. To hear your breath and feel your heart beating against his chest. You could hear people trying to disperse the crowd, but you paid no mind to them. You kept your eyes locked on Elvis's shoulder as you fought off the urge to cry. “Talk to me, baby. You’re shakin’ like a leaf.” You gulped down deep breaths, finally moving your hands to grip onto his shirt. You rubbed your fingers against the lace, feeling his warm skin beneath. It soothed you. Helped you to stop your panicking. 

“EP. You take the car back to the motel. We’ll just ride with Jimmie and Hank back.” You heard Scotty’s voice beside you. Elvis slowly untangled one of his arms from your form, shoving the keys in his now ruined pants. “Let’s get to the car. Can you do that? Can you walk, sweet heart?” He purred, pulling away to look at your face. He cupped your cheeks in his hands, sucking in a hard breath as he noticed your tear caked face and wide teary eyes. His chest began to rise and fall quickly as he took deep breath after deep breath. “I should have gutted him.” You were quick to shake your head, stumbling back as you pulled him with you by his shirt. “L-Let’s just go okay? I wanna go.” You needed to get the hell out of there as fast as you could. Even if someone else had already come by and picked the stranger up. Even if you knew you were now well protected- it didn’t matter. You needed to go back to the motel room so that you could break down without having everybody’s eyes on you. You were sure that this fight would only add to Elvis’s sordid reputation as well. You were. . . you were just mortified. Elvis kept his arm tightly around you as he walked you through the fairgrounds, allowing you to tuck your head into his throat. He continued to mumble sweet words into your ear as the two of you made your way out into the car lot. Elvis helped you into the bright yellow car, going as far as to make sure you were well situated before moving on over to the drivers side. 

The car ride was silent. He didn’t even turn on the radio, which was rare for him. You rolled down the window, letting the wind whip your hair back and cool your hot face. By the time the two of you had made it back to the room you had already started to calm down. With the panic and adrenaline now out of your system, you could feel how badly your arm hurt. You kept your mouth shut about it, knowing that Elvis would probably tear the room apart in his haste to find the man responsible. He was being so sweet and tentative towards you, but you could tell that he was barely hanging on to his sanity. He’d always gone out of his way to watch over you. This wasn’t the first guy he’d gotten in a fight with over you. . . but never had it been this bad. Never. 

After you had told Elvis the entire story, save for the part where you were sure that you’d torn a muscle in your shoulder, he just sat there on the bed in silence. For a second you were sure that he was going to react with more anger, but you would have been wrong. Your lips parted as you watched his blue eyes fill with tears. After a few seconds he let out a loud sob, his body shaking as he practically caved in on himself. Never in your entire life had you ever seen him so upset. He began rubbing his own arms with his hands, as if to comfort himself, to get himself to stop crying. Not even your own loving hands and soothing words could stop him. His body was wracked with sobs as he pulled his knees up to his chest, pressing his forehead against the tops of his thighs. “Baby? Baby what’s wrong?” You gripped him by the chin, gently leaning his head back so that you could look at him. The mascara had begun running down his cheeks, his eyelashes clumping together. His lip quivered as he tried to get the words out because another loud hiccup shook his shoulders. “I don’t deserve you. I-I can’t live with myself after a-all of that happened.” He wiped at his eyes, only smearing the makeup even more. 

If you thought his eyes had looked blue before, now they looked like sapphires. 

Burning bright. Burning sad. 

“It’s not your fault, hun. None of that was your fault. I-I. . . I moved away from the crowd. I’m the one to blame.” He shook his head, his jaw going slack. 

“Are you insane, y/n? You’re my girl. My baby,” He dropped his legs so that he could bang his hand against his chest to emphasize the words. “It’s my job to keep you safe. Keep you takin’ care of. I was up there singin’ like a fool while you were havin’ your hair ripped out of your little head. I promised your daddy. . . your mama that I was goin’ to look after you until the day that i died, and look what happened under my watch.” You could have started crying yourself. He was shakin’, his eyes wide, cheeks stained and streaked with mascara and eyeliner.

If you had thought that he looked like a God up on that stage, now he looked like a fallen angel. 

“You couldn’t have known any of that was gonna happen. You did the best that you cou-” “Well my best isn’t damn good enough!” You jerked back as he screamed, watching as his hands moved up to his head, gripping- yanking- at his hair. In front of you sat a man who had spent his whole life doing for others. He financially provided for his parents, even during high school. He worked three jobs just to put food on the table and gas in his daddy’s car, all while counting pennies to buy himself a coke from the corner store. He felt like he had to watch over everyone he loved. That their happiness and safety relied on him. 

“You’re perfect and you’re mine.” You reached out, holding him against yourself so tightly that you were sure one of your rib cages were sure to break. ‘Fuck it’, you thought. ‘Let it shatter’. “There isn’t anything you could have done to prevent it, baby. All I can say is that imma be careful from now on. I won’t leave your side. Not ever again.” He was pulling on your clothes, pulling on your hair, clutching you to him like he was scared that you might dissipate into thin air. You let him claw at you- dig his calloused fingers into your soft skin. “Please. Please never leave me. I-I can’t take it.” 

If you had ever questioned whether or not Elvis truly loved you, you sure as hell never would again. The man was practically destroying himself over a situation that he had no control over, all because you had gotten hurt. “Never. I’m not goin’ anywhere, darlin’.” That was all he needed to hear. In the blink of an eye he had you pinned down to the bed, his hands clumsily fumbling with the bottom of your dirt stained dress. “E-Elvis! What are you doin’?” You tried grabbing his hands to stop him, but he was a man on a mission. “Let me make it up to you.” Your eyes widened, lips parting slightly as his fingers found your panties. He was tearing them off of you in a second. “T-There’s nothing to make up for! Let me love on you, for Christ’s sake. You need to calm down.” His eyes flickered back up to meet yours, and he sniffled softly, his jaw clenching and unclenching. His eyes were hard, but no longer teary. “I am calm. I just. . . I feel like I can’t breathe if I’m not touchin’ you right now. So let me. . . let me touch you.” Your eyes fluttered as you looked up at him, his gaze hard, bordering on animalistic. It was as if you had been transported back to his show. His hand gripping your face, eyes boring into your own as he moved just for you. You worshiped him just as he worshiped you. Elvis Presley was one of a kind. No one had ever been born like him before, and nobody ever would be even after he was gone. You were sure of it. 

He pushed your skirt up and over your hips, kissing down your body as though he could absorb the fear that you had felt earlier. He usually liked to tease you in order to get you worked up, but he didn’t tonight. No- His lips and tongue lapped you up like you were made of honey, and when his eyes flickered up to meet yours from between your legs, he beheld you as if you were some glittery, golden thing. His fingers brushed up your body, cupping your breast through your dress, working your already hardening nipples with his fingers. You cried out, back arching as the pleasure steadily began to build. 

He pulled at the neckline of your stained dress, his tongue running all the way up from your entrance to your clit- slow slow slow. His eyebrows furrowed, humming as he tasted you. He cupped your now freed breasts, pinching the nipple between his thumb and pointer finger. 

You were panting so hard you were sure that you might pass out. Your hand gripped hard at the sheets as he continued to work your clit over with his tongue, his eyes falling shut as he savored you. His thick, long lashes casted shadows on his cheeks. Every once and a while they would flutter, like the beating of a butterfly's wings. In the dull lamp light of the dingy motel room, covered in dirt and grass stains, you felt your heart swell to the point of bursting. Your eyes filled with tears as you stared up at the ceiling, your plush lips parting as a sob ripped from your throat. 

You were wracked with both pleasure and a crippling sense of hope. You loved this man more than anything else. You’d love him in this life, in the next life, and into whatever came next. 

He was everything. 

And on cue the man’s free hand found yours, which had been tangled up in the sheets. He intertwined his fingers, gripping you tight. You weren’t sure why- but that was what pushed you over the edge. You dug the back of your head into the mattress as you climaxed, eyes squeezing shut. His hand moved from your breasts to your thigh, holding it to the side so that he could continue his attack, riding you through your orgasm. He didn’t stop there. Your free hand tangled into his hair, chanting his name as though it was some ancient spell. Your body quivered against him, thighs naturally trying hard to squeeze together, to stop him from continuing to push you over the edge. He didn’t stop, his tongue focusing on your bundle of nerves. Before you knew it you were building up all over again, your cunt dripping with slick and spit, and quite possibly tears. You didn’t know. You didn’t care. 

You weren’t even sure if you were speaking coherently when you climaxed for the second time. You thought that you were praising him, telling him how pretty he was and how good, but you couldn’t be sure. His tongue slowly slid down to your entrance, lazily lapping up your cum before he sat up on shaky knees, pupils blown out, cheeks pink. 

His lips were shining in the low light, and he was quick to lick them, as if he needed to swallow every last drop of you, like it was some precious nectar. The kind that someone only got to taste once in a lifetime. After he had finally caught his breath he laid down next to you, hanging one of his arms over the side of the bed as he stared at your face. His eyes were impossibly soft, his face still wet with tears. “I love seein’ you like this.” His voice was gruff, thick with lust and something else. Something even more beautiful. “What? All sweaty and quiverin’?” You attempted to tease, but you were still breathing too hard for the joke to really land. “No. . . no-” he raised a hand up, pushing your hair off of your forehead. 

“I love seeing you in love with me.” 

check out the third chapter of this story !

@bookklover23 @medleyj @idkwhattthisisss @dharnwjs @slutforsomegoodlettuce @crackerbarrelslut @macey234 @nightfiress @keepdrivingrr @melodydior @luvvrrrrr @mymamalife @wwebby657 @shynovelist @ssstrangersblog

[loupy-mongoose]

Warning: This part contains topics of death and grief.

In-universe it is early November.

~~~~~~

Randy shivered against a sharp, cold breeze. He propped up his turtleneck.

Ready to go inside? Mr. Fuji's brow raised in questioning.

Randy nodded. Yeah.

The two men had been taking pleasant walk and chatting, Randy getting to know some of the residents of Mr. Fuji's care. He found the Alolan Rattata particularly fascinating--It was the first time he could really stop and notice how different a Dark type felt from other types. It was a bizarre effect. Almost like there was a mist of... nothingness, keeping him from feeling it's mind.

But now the wind was starting to pick up, and his sweater wasn't quite pulling its weight. He was beginning to find himself missing the relative warmth of Paldea.

As they approached Mr. Fuji's house, a small tune suddenly began playing, causing Fuji to turn, startled, toward Randy. After a moment, Randy realized what it was and pulled his phone from his pocket.

...I need to take this.

...

He sighed, and answered the call. Now by himself outside, he gave a nervous smile to the recipient who couldn't see him. Hey.

The voice on the other end was as warm, loving, and soothing as ever, but still filled Randy with the dread of knowing what was coming.

Hey. I got your message. Is now a good time?

The man's eyebrows lowered anxiously. Straight to the point, huh, Mom...

You said it was important.

Yeah.... I did...

I'm just... Not too excited to say it...

Viviana's voice took on a new alertness. What? Are you okay??

Randy fidgeted with his unoccupied hand, winding some hair around his fingers. I'm fine now...

But...

He sighed again.

This was it.

Mom...

I....

I had a heart attack.

He heard a sharp draw of breath over the phone.

He knew this wasn't something his mother would like to hear, but she had to know.

He went on.

A bad one.

My...

My heart stopped beating.

His mom stayed silent.

It was an... unusually stressful situation...

Akoya managed to resuscitate me, and I got the help I needed... I'm doing well now.

He listened for a response. But she said nothing.

...

Mom?

Mm!

Her voice broke, and she sounded as if a trance had been broken.

Sorry... I'm... processing...

Randy tugged at the neck of his sweater. Yeah.... I understand...

They both went quiet.

Oh, Randy...

Her voice was filled with emotion.

I wish I could give you a hug right now...

Yeah... He looked down at the grass blowing in the cold breeze, once more shivering. I do too... I'm sorry, I just thought it would be better for you to know sooner, rather than wait for our next visit.

Oh, no, no! I'm glad you told me! It's just a lot to take in. I'm sure it has been for you all, too.

...

How's Akoya?

Randy felt a pang for his wife.

He saw the lines that had appeared under her eyes.

He knew she had been having trouble sleeping since the event.

He noticed that she always matched her form to his.

He knew that she kept secret fears to herself.

Secret fears that it would happen again.

That she would need to sync their heartbeats again.

Randy...

He snapped his attention back to his mom.

Don't...

Don't forget...

What it's like to be on the other end...

A memory sprang into his minds eye, giving him a chill unlike what the weather could.

Okay?

His father.

Lying on the ground.

His mom over the lifeless form, fruitlessly struggling to revive him against all hope.

The sound of the operator on the other end of the phone, their words blurred out of his memory with age.

His own helpless panic.

Yeah...

Warm tears burned his eye.

I remember...

Mom...

I love you.

So much.

He heard her sniff and take a shaky breath.

I love you too, Son.

Come visit soon, okay?

Randy wiped his eyes.

Yeah.

Sounds good.

~~~~~~

I know this is a heavy topic, and I apologize if any part of it is misrepresentative. It's not a conversation type I've ever had to experience, but it's something I felt needed to be part of the story.

[folksaga-if]

“It is a long story, and it does no credit to anyone: there is murder in it, and trickery, lies and foolishness, seduction and pursuit.  Listen."

- Neil Gaiman, Norse Mythology

You are a human. A totally normal one.

Honestly.

You’re a human. You’re a bartender, which is a very normal job for a human to have, and when you walk down the winding streets of Akureyri you can blend seamlessly into any crowd of people which is, without question, only something that a human could do.

The fact that you came here two years ago with nothing but the clothing on your back doesn’t mean anything; you’re hardly northern Iceland’s first wayfaring soul. That you had no money to your name, no friends or family to speak of — that’s a fairly average human thing, too. And that little craving you have, that quiet urge to dig your teeth into any passing stranger’s throat? It's completely, entirely mundane.

It’s manageable. You’re managing.

Or you were, until someone — someone who's decidedly notas good at this human thing as you are — begins leaving a trail of dead bodies at your doorstep, and a trio of god-like siblings take a seat at your bar.

MAGNI THORSON .

No doubt the mightiest of his siblings, the eldest child of Thor is exactly the sort of person you would expect him to be: a giant (half-giant, in fact) asshole with a smoulder and a knife-sharp jawline to match. He’ll match your every word with a cocky grin and a joke that’s nowhere near as funny as he thinks, and he’ll look every inch the prince that he is all the while.

(Well, the prince that he was. Just don’t let him hear you say that.)

MODI THORSON .

For the supposed embodiment of his father’s wrath, the God of Thunder’s second son is surprisingly…not that. He’s no picnic, mind you — he’s broody, he’s secretive, and he's fucking intense, but that hardly equates to fury incarnate. You’re sure there’s something hiding under that moody surface; whether or not you want to uncover it is a different story entirely.

(Looks like even gods aren’t immune to middle-child syndrome. Who knew?)

THRÚD THORSDÓTTIR .

Valkyrie, seidhr,paragon of strength — with all of her mother’s best traits (and a few of her father’s worst), is it any wonder that Thor’s youngest child was also his favourite? Smarter than her half-brothers and more likeable by a longshot, you might find yourself forgetting how easily the fortune-telling goddess could break you in two. You might, but she’ll be happy to remind you if you do.

(Maybe a little too happy, in fact.)

KATLA B̶͍̏L̸̝͑O̵̟͠M̴̳̓Q̴̯̔V̵̺͆I̷̗͛S̵̠͒T̸̬̒ .

A fellow nomad and your coworker at Black Thunder, the first friend you made in Akureyri has remained your closest. Mischevious, magnetic, and often up to no small amount of trouble, there are times when you think you might know Katla better than you know yourself. You even know about her…well, you know that she…sorry, what were you talking about again?

(It's just that it’s nice, being close to someone who’s so very human.)

THE MARE .

There’s a voice in your head and a shadow in your dreams, and they’re telling you to run. You probably shouldn’t trust them.

(…Right?)

Customize your monster character. New life, new you! Choose your gender identity, change your name, cut your hair, and remember: if you’re starting to grow tired of running from your past, try on a new outfit and start running faster.

Play as one of three runway creatures from Norse mythology — a cunning keeper of the forest, a charming warden of the lake, or a formidable guardian of the mountains. Each has its quirks (would you prefer a hollowed-out tree for a back, or webbed fingers and forearms covered in scales?), but they all have two key things in common: they’ll killto protect their homes, and you’redefinitely not one of them.

Choose your own fate, out of the countless that are presented to you. Had oatmeal instead of skyr with your breakfast this morning? You might have just brought about Ragnarök 2.0. Nice one, asshole.

Multiple romance options, with each available to pursue regardless of your gender or background. Ever wanted to kiss a god under a starry sky? Now's your chance! Or maybe you’re through with immortal beings and desperate to ask the pretty server on a date? Go for it! She’s definitelya human too. Totally. You’d be able to tell if she wasn’t. Wouldn’t you?

Save the world — or don’t.It's your choice, and isn't that what true freedom is all about?

Folksaga is inspired by The Edda, Norse mythology, andTwin Peaks, with a bit of tweaking to the myths as needed for the sake of plot. MC backgrounds have been adjusted to fit for all players regardless of gender identity, and creative liberty has been taken with some smaller points for a smoother storytelling experience. All changes will be explained in an FAQ post (too be added in the links below ASAP!)

AS OF AUGUST 21 UPDATE: The current demo consists of the prologue (introductory lore + character creation), + chapter 1, about 70k words total.

I expect it to be somewhere in the range of 600,000 to 700,000 words, but this is subject to change (and likely will due to my propensity for rambling text. oops.).

I’ve written  short and long-form original fiction as well as a lot of fanfic (say hello @ pentaghastly on AO3, and @kendallroynsfw on tumblr!), but this is my first IF! Bugs and coding issues may appear in the demo; please let me know if any issues arise during your playthroughs.

Folksaga is a work in progress. I would love constructive feedback when the demo is posted, as well as any bugs or grammar issues to be brought to my attention if I've missed them :) I would also love patience, because I'm a full time health care worker who gets sleepy lots xoxo

A Swedish farmer named Sven Andersson was executed in 1691 for having intercourse with a mountain nymph, or bergsrå. I will neither confirm or deny if his Wikipedia article was the inspiration for this IF, except I will confirm it and it definitely was.

MC ORIGINS | RO INTROS | DEMO!!!!! | COG FORUMS | PATREON

[igotanidea]

Cookies: Jason Todd x reader

Christmas bingo day 18 : cookies

Her laughing was so hard and so disturbingly turning into desperate sobbing, that Jason could not help getting alarmed. So, throwing his book away and almost tripping over their cat he jumped off the couch rushing to the bedroom where his lovely, emotionally unstable girlfriend were fighting for her breath, almost spitting her lungs out rolling in the sheets and holding her belly.

"Y/n?" He stuttered, quite amused by the scene in front of his eyes though he couldn't deny certain cuteness to it. She felt comfortable enough around him to actually let her guards down and turn into happy child mode. To the point where she couldn't hear him."Y/n!" He tried again falling on his stomach on the bed causing her to jump a little form the recoil "what's so funny babe?"

"Oh Jace!" She rolled on the side to face him "I've just talked to f/n. Apparently your older brother -"

"Not my brother -" Jason muttered turning a little bit grumpy, only earning eye rolling and tongue sticking from her.

"Technicals, love. Whats important is that Dick got her into baking cookies. Tricked her with using the word nutcracker." Y/n chuckled

"She thought he was going to take her out for the ballet, didn't she?" Jason couldn't help a smirk at the story. "This does sound like Dick."

"Pun intended?" His girl smirked back knowingly

"Most definitely pun intended. So how did it end, did he burn the load or did f/n had to do the work? Wait-- don't answer that I think I already know."

"He said it was a couple bonding exercise."

"Oh really?" Jason raised an eyebrow scooting closer to her and grabbing her waist "I got some other ideas for that -"

"Yeah good thing we settled on not baking this year -" she wriggled out of his embrace, sitting on the bed cross legged and fixing her hair without a care of what Dick and f/n did.

And then it hit her, her brain shutting off from the reality.

And when she looked at Jason she knew he figured it out too.

***

There was no freaking way Jason and y/n were going to get outdone in the baking area. Never .

***

And if the oldest batman son made (sort of) cookies, it could only mean that he was going to bring them to a family feast and keep on bragging about hidden culinary talent.

No freaking way.

So acting like a two pieces of the same, well-oiled machine Jason and y/n gathered all the necessary ingredients, grabbed their matching aprons and started producing something that could, hands down, be called a masterpiece.

The recipie that never failed them was enriched with a secret ingredient called love as they laughed and bantered during the preparation.

And obviously he didn't mean to blow that flour her way and made her sneeze. And that vicious smile on his face only meant apologies. It really wasn't Jason's fault that she took this a cue to get all competitive.

"You know what?" Once she managed to wipe the white powder from her face her eyes glistened mischievously "I got an idea"

"Did you think about it a lot?"

"Well it took me longer than it takes you to finish when-"

"Shut up!" He turned red instantly getting a handful of cinnamon and rubbed it into her crystal white apron "oh, you're so clumsy princess, such a messy cook. Maybe you should just leave the professional to do the complicated work?"

Much to his surprise, instead of lunging at him (which would give him opportunity to grab her and tease her in some other ways than verbal) his words only made her take an exhale, shake her head and smile.

Uh huh. Not a good sign.

"You want to stand against me Todd? You sure about that? I don't think you realise what's coming for you, pretty boy." Her hands found a way to her hips as she stood in a power pose that could do very little to intimidate him.

"Flattery will get you nowhere princess" he leaned forward over the kitchen counter testing her nerves and patience.

"Are you that terrified you feel the urge to distract me?"

"May the best cook win" he grinned pulling her cooking hat onto her eyes blocking her view for a few seconds just to get a head start, grab the ingredients and put them out of her reach.

"That's cheating!" She protested trying to retrieve the necessary products

"I can't remember us setting the rules."

"Bully!"

"That's not what you said when- ouch!" The sudden stepping on his foot took him by surprise, giving her the chance to grab the baking powder and eggs and start running. Once she reached the pantry, she immediately locked the door.

At the moment they were at an impasse.

Y/n had the eggs and baking powder while Jason was left with flour and sugar.

Pretty much neither of them could make actual and edible cookies without cooperating.

"Come on princess don't be like that." He yanked on the door handle "you can't win you know it"

"Is that a surrender I hear in your voice?"

"You wish! I'm merely giving you a chance to walk with your head high and not shamefully defeated"

"Admit it you can't do a single thing without my input!"

"I think that's pretty obvious at this point of our relationship..." He said, his tone suddenly turning soft. "It scares me sometimes how dependant of you I am... Come on baby open up..."

"You're not playing me?" She asked from behind the door, her heart beating so loud that the blood was rushing in her ears

"Cross my heart-" he started but before he finished, she actually unlocked the door and stood in the doorframe still a little bit hesitant and careful, having learnt to watch out for him and his games.

"Hey...." She muttered diligently assessing the situation.

"Fool!" Jason yelled, grabbing her and pulling her to a kiss that seemed to last forever but still not long enough. "You didn't actually think I didn't have an ulterior motive did you?"

"You're such a dork Todd ..." She chuckled (not) trying to break free.

"Oh damn, this woman is still talking! Not on my watch."

And once their lips met again, they had the world in their grasp in the person of one another. For what they cared the rest of it could have burned.

And talking about burning -

"Our cookies are still gonna be better right?" She pulled back after a minute not really capable of getting rid of that competitiveness.

"Damn right. But the dough can wait a little bit longer." He retorted.

Preferably all night cause they were going to be busy with some other kind of sugar and sweetness.

[loveisanimaginarydagger3000]

The Babysitter (35)

All I'll Ever Need

MILF Wanda Maximoff X Reader 18+

Summary: In need of money and a way to escape the problems at home, you get a job babysitting two lovely boys named Billy and Tommy Maximoff. What happens when you start to feel things you shouldn't for their mother? Will it bloom into love or leave you heartbroken?

A/N- I would just like to say that there will be some sensitive issues in this story such as alcoholism, homophobia, anxiety as well as more mature content such as smut so, if you continue to read this, please consider this warning.

The Babysitter Master list | General Master List

Chapter 35- W/c 4k

Tag list- @natsluttt @cerberus-spectre @dorabledewdroop @bibliophilicbi @hopelesslyfallenninlove @simpform1lfs @get-the-fuck-outta-here @natashaswife4125 @marvelwomen-simp @supercorpstan97 @aliherreraaa @aru-son @the-ox-fan20

All I'll Ever Need

A weight pressing gently into your back gradually pulled you out of your slumber, a drowsy noise escaping you as your face pressed further into the pillow in front of you, eyes remaining shut as you wished to stay in the comfort of yours and Wanda's bed. The older woman's legs were either side of your lower back, her hands pressing down against your shoulder blades in an expertly manner, a satisfied groan escaping you as she applied the pressure at just the right spot, her hands softly massaging you.

If her plan was to wake you up, she was doing an awful job at it. Her fingers worked wonders on the knots in your back, the pleasurable feeling causing you to melt against the sheets, slowly falling back asleep as your body relaxed, appreciative hums occasionally leaving you.

Upon hearing a borderline soft snore, Wanda stopped her ministrations, her nose scrunching in that adorable manner as your head merely tilted to the side, trying to get a glimpse of her, a pout evident on your face. Your eyes closed, lips forming a disappointed line as you conveyed your disapproval of her stopping, the older woman letting out a small string of angelic laughter as your hands reached behind you, blindly searching for her hands to push them back towards your body.

"Detka," she hummed out, moving to press her entire body weight against your back, mouth near your ear as you smiled at the feeling of her hands gliding up and down your sides, the close proximity waking you up properly. "You need to wake up now," she tells you, knowing how important today was.

As you were off for the rest of the summer holidays, waiting on your test results, you had managed to get a job at the Guardian's Café that was near the park you all liked to visit. The plan was to raise some more money of your own as, although you had a considerable amount of money from your Dad's inheritance, you wanted some of your own money to spend on Wanda and the twins as well as potentially some driving lessons if you could get over the fear of being in the driver's seat of a car. Wanda had been supportive of you but now you wished she wasn't so eager for you to do this, wanting to stay wrapped up in bed.

"Five more minutes," you mumble, finding one of her hands and interlocking your fingers, simply wanting to stay trapped in this moment with her, relishing in the domesticity of it.

"Come on Moya Lyubov, you don't want to be late on your first day," she teases softly, pressing a lingering kiss to your cheek, smiling against you as she can hear you grumble something under your breath, eyes eventually fluttering open. "Good morning Detka," the words fall from her mouth in a loving whisper, your lips inevitably tugging upwards into a smile at the sight of her enticing green, her nose scrunching up once more.

"I'd argue it isn't good," you mutter, pressing your face back into the pillow and groaning as you can feel her chuckling against you, "Morning my love." Your words are muffled by the fabric but Wanda doesn't care, she's just amused by your unusual antics. Despite being with you for months, she still finds it entertaining how much you hate waking up in the morning at a reasonable time, refusing to be anything close to a 'morning person'.

"Is waking up with me not good?" she murmurs, hints of playfulness in her tone as her hands slide under your shirt, her cold fingers having your body jerk under her, your breath hitching as oh my god why were they so cold.

"Not if you do that," you mumble, manoeuvring under her so you were now laying on your back as opposed to your stomach, her straddling your waist and staring down at you with a small, victorious smirk as she had properly woken you up. "It would be a 'good' morning if I got my morning kiss though," you whisper, letting your hands interlock with hers and rest on your stomach.

"Yeah?" she chuckles out, raising her brow at you as you nod adamantly, her eyes glimmering with love and care. She lowers her body, lips ghosting yours and you can feel that familiar heat flow throughout you, eyes instinctively flickering down to watch how she swipes her tongue across her lips, wetting them. You wait, and wait, and wait for her to press her addictively soft mouth against yours, to let you lose yourself in the feeling of her, but she doesn't, she simply smirks down at you before pulling back, chuckling at your offended expression. "Go get ready and brush your teeth, then I might give you a morning kiss," she murmurs, pressing a chaste one against your forehead before moving off you completely, the pout from earlier returning at her cruel actions. All that did was prove how this wasn't a good morning.

"So mean," you mutter, making the older woman smile to herself as she watches you reluctantly roll out of bed to go towards the bathroom, a hint of determination on your face as you really wanted that kiss.

***

Wrapping your arms around her waist, your head rested against her shoulder, a smile present on your face as you had done exactly what she asked of you. It was as if she knew what you were after, her body turning around in your arms, the twins' backpacks being placed on the table as she was ready to take them on the school run.

"After something?" she asks innocently as you roll your eyes at her teasing, your fingers drawing random patterns against her back as you peered up into her softening green, her smile widening every second the gaze lingered.

"Potentially," you murmur, flashing her a charming smile as you listen out for two smaller sets of footsteps, nothing being heard giving you the impression you were safe from the two mini Maximoffs at the moment. "I was promised something earlier and I intend on getting it," you say softly, one of her hands coming up to brush a stray strand of hair behind your ear before cupping your jaw, bringing you closer.

"I don't remember anything being promised," she whispers tauntingly against you, "In fact, I remember saying might."

"Just kiss me," you grumble, the older woman chuckling against your lips before pulling you closer for a tender kiss, the soft nature of it having warmth and affection fill your chest, love evident in your eyes as they slowly flutter back open. You don't know how it's possible for every kiss to be better than the last, your eyes getting lost in hers as they always do, admiring the various shades of green that gazed at you, nothing but care in them. "I think I deserve another one for all the teasing," you try, making her roll her eyes this time, pecking you on the lips once more before the sound of running can be heard, breaking the two of you apart.

"Are you two finally ready?" Wanda asks as the two boys who enter your view, one of your arms still wrapped around her waist as you stand by her side, leaning your body against hers. Wanda had an eventful morning trying to get the three of you up, but now things were finally starting to piece together.

"Do we have to go to school?" Tommy grumbles and you just chuckle at him, a teasing comment on the tip of your tongue but Wanda's disapproving look stops you, already knowing you were about to tease the boy.

"Yes, it's important," she says, motioning for them to grab their bags as you lean against a piece of furniture, ruffling Tommy's hair slightly when he walks past still half asleep. "Just think about it, the quicker we go to school, the quicker it will finish and we can meet Y/n at the park after her first day." You want to fault her logic but refrain from doing so as the boys' faces light up at remembering the promised park trip, eagerly running towards the car.

"Good luck today, Detka," she murmurs quickly, kissing you one last time with passion, stunning you as you take a moment to register what's happening, kissing her back with the same ferocity before she pulls back. "I'll see you later," she whispers before leaving you to take the twins to school, your smile never leaving your lips as you lean against the door frame, watching her wave goodbye to you.

***

Just think about the money.

That's what floated around your head for most of your shift, your fake smile plastered on your face as you had to deal with another moody customer, the middle aged man deciding to take his daily frustrations out on you.

"I've only ordered a coffee, why is it taking so long?" he complains as you told him his drink would be with him in a couple minutes, the queue daunting for you as you had only been trained a couple hours ago, your co-worker, Peter Quill, stepping in to help.

"Sorry Sir, but as you can see, there is a long queue," Peter says, subtle hints of sarcasm present in his voice making you hide a smirk. The only thing you liked about this job was your co-workers, the team was really close and welcoming, all of their humour perfectly combining to make a fun work experience. "We'll get your drink to you shortly," he says while the man goes to complain again, Nebula handing you his drink to shut him up, her glare deadly at the man who stutters a little in his rant.

"Enjoy the rest of your day," you say, faking the customer service voice as he mutters something under his breath, taking his drink and swiftly leaving the café, the queue eventually subsiding.

The rest of your shift passed by effortlessly, laughter filling the air as you talked amongst your new co-workers, learning more about them. The discovery of Peter and Gamora dating was something you found interesting, the woman looked slightly threatening and a person who wouldn't put up with any sort of nonsense whereas Peter was the literal embodiment of nonsense as he amused you all day along with Drax, a slightly older man who worked with you, seemingly in his own world most of the time except when he'd add something random to the conversation. You found out that Gamora and Nebula were sisters, everything clicking as it just made sense, the blunt banter between them and sisterly love somewhere there. Mantis was slightly shyer than the rest, but you found it endearing as she always checked if you were alright along with the rest of the group, making sure everyone was doing ok emotionally as some customers could be extremely rude for no apparent reason. There was also another member of the team, Rocket, but he was currently on a holiday with his girlfriend Lylla so you wouldn't meet him for a while. 

Before you even knew it, you were at the end of your shift, hanging your apron back up as you weren't needed for any longer, all of the major rushes over. A smile was present on your lips as Peter told you that you had a very impressive first day and that you could have something on the house to celebrate the occasion. You quickly took two muffins for the twins before paying for a coffee for yourself and Wanda, deciding it wasn't fair to take that much, even when Drax insisted it was alright.

After saying goodbye to everyone, you made the short walk over to the park, your eyes searching for a familiar set of auburn locks or two twins causing chaos. You continued to scan the park while moving towards the bench you would all typically go to when you visited, your eyes widening when you saw a small girl fall over, scraping her knee.

Carefully placing all the food and drink on the floor near her, you crouched down to comfort the girl, tears pricking in her eyes as small specks of blood formed on her knee.

"Hey, it's alright," you cooed softly, offering her a reassuring smile as her blue eyes peered into your own, her lips trembling as pain shot through her leg.

"I- I want my mommy," she managed out, wiping the few tears that spilt, your head snapping up to search for an adult nearby, your blood running cold when you heard a familiar voice.

"Harley?" The woman called, rushing over to the blonde child sitting on the floor, your mother pausing when she saw you, hurt and confusion evident on your face. "Are you alright, dear?" she asks the small girl, her head shaking as you staggered to your feet, confused as to what the fuck was going on. "It's ok, I'm here, Mommy's here," your mother whispers to the girl, holding her close as she calms down, her eyes on you as you stand frozen on the spot, mouth opening and closing as you want to say something but you have no idea where to start.

Mommy? Who even was this child?

Seeing the pain flashing across your face, your jaw clenching, your mother quickly called over a man, worry evident on his face at the sight of presumably his daughter crying. You didn't focus properly as she was sent to be taken care of by her father, your gaze locked on your mother, thoughts racing.

"Y/n-" She tries before you cut her off.

"I can't," is all you say before grabbing your things, starting to walk away. You couldn't forget all the pain and suffering she caused you, the vile things she said to you. You hated her.

"Y/n wait, please," she says while walking after to you, the man looking puzzled as he tends to his daughter, watching his partner chase after you. "Let me explain, please, I've changed," she says but you're too busy shaking your head. You want her to go away. You need her to go away. "I'm sorry."

You pause at her words, turning around and staring at her in disbelief.

"I'm sorry for how I treated you," she says cautiously, your mind screaming at you to continue walking away. "You didn't deserve any of it." Her eyes show signs of guilt but you're too scared to believe they're real, scared this was some extravagant way she was going to hurt you again.

"You... You can't think 'sorry' fixes this," you say quietly, not meeting her eyes, too busy focussing on the two mysterious figures who were watching you.

"I know it doesn't," she says, stepping closer to you which makes you step back. "I want to try and make it up to you, Y/n. I meant it when I said I'd change. I'm sober now, I have been for over four months," she says, a hopeful and promising tone to her words as you remain where you are, listening to her. "That's Brian," she explains, looking over at the man you were staring at, "And that's his daughter, Harley." You absorb the information she's telling you, still unsure of how to feel. She clearly hated being your mother, so why would she be willingly to care for another child, one that's not even hers properly. "I met him at an addiction meeting, he... he really helped me."

"Why are you telling me this?" you croak out, annoyed at the lack of composure in your voice.

"Because I have a family again," she says and you can't look at her anymore. You just wanted this to end. Where was Wanda? "And I want you to be a part of it," she continues, your eyes displaying your disbelief and annoyance. You don't want to be. You want to be with your family. Wanda and the twins.

"No," you say, shaking your head and taking another step back, "No, I don't want to be."

"Y/n-"

"No." Your tone harsher, making your point clear. "I... You hated me, you made me hate myself, made me think I was the reason he died. I lost my dad and my mother at the same time because you pushed me away." She avoids your gaze as you express your feelings, guilt stirring in her for what she had done. "You don't get to choose when and where you want to be a mother."

"Y/n please just give me another chance," she begs and you scoff, clenching your jaw in annoyance now.

"Why should I?" You snap, you've had enough of her. "Even if I did, would you accept me?" Her mouth opens and closes as she knows exactly what you're referring to, a breathless laugh leaving your lips. "That's what I thought," you mutter, "You made it clear to me that you never wanted to see me again, so just leave me alone."

You see her eyes flicker over to your side, a protective arm wrapping around your waist as a familiar perfume invades your senses, Wanda glaring at your mother with a look that could kill.

"I suggest you leave," Wanda's voice is cold and stern as she addresses your mother, a glint of anger in both of their eyes as they stare at each other.

"This is between me and my daughter," her tone is blunt as she talks to your girlfriend, annoyance growing in you, Wanda's hand on your waist holding you tighter.

"You lost the right to call her your daughter when you kicked her out," Wanda grits out, still furious that she did that to you. "Now leave before I do something I regret," her voice is laced with venom as she watches your mother look between the two of you, a glimpse of disgust still present in her eyes as she backs off, deciding that it wasn't worth the fight.

Once you can see her walk away, you crash into Wanda's arms, holding her close as you let out a breath, closing your eyes and focusing on the feeling of her body embracing yours.

"I've got you Detka," she murmurs at the top of your head, pressing a kiss to your hair as your arms hold her tighter, her gaze locked on your mother who eventually starts to leave the park with two other figures, her attention then switching to you and only you. "I'm here," she whispers and you melt even further against her, savouring the moment briefly before realising you're in the middle of a park.

"Sorry," you mumble, her hands cupping your cheeks to make you look at her, care and love that you desperately craved swirling in her eyes.

"You have no reason to be sorry," she says in an honest tone, her lips briefly meeting yours as you calm down in her presence, your racing thoughts gradually slowing. You look down at the floor, seeing the food and drink you had placed down before grabbing it and handing her the now stone-cold coffee, an apologetic look on your face. "Ok, maybe one reason why you should be sorry," she teases in a light-hearted tone to ease the mood, you chuckling softly as you appreciate her gesture.

"I got the twins muffins," you say, diverting the conversation onto something else, the older woman understanding that you didn't want to talk about it now, her tender smile encouraging you to continue talking. "They're big so we could steal one and share it while they share one too," you suggest, her eyebrow raising at you before looking back to the twins who were playing on the playground.

"Or," she whispers, "We could eat both of them and prevent the sugar rush they'd get from it," her voice dropping to a mischievous tone, one that rivals her brothers as you laugh, unable to stop the smile that stretches across your face. Oh you loved her so much.

"We have to be quick then," you muttered into another chaste kiss, swiftly walking with her to a bench to eat the treats, out of the twins' view.

***

Closing the door quietly, Wanda turned to admire your form in bed, arms wrapped around her pillow as you cuddled against it, pretending it was her as you waited for the other woman to finish getting ready for bed. Green eyes softened when she saw your face partly smushed against the fabric, eyes seemingly struggling to stay open after the eventful and tiresome day you had, the older woman gently climbing into bed to finally join you.

It had felt like you had waited years for Wanda to replace the pillow in your arms, her fingers wrapping carefully around the object and slowly sliding it out of your grasp, moving her body to slip into its previous position. A soft hum of appreciation left you as her comforting arms snaked around your middle, pulling you impossibly closer to her, your head pressed against the crook of her neck and relishing in the warmth of her skin. Her fingers eventually slipped under your shirt, a relieved sigh leaving you when you discovered they were significantly warmer than this morning, soothingly tracing random patterns against your skin, adding to the relaxing feeling flowing throughout you.

"I'm here if you want to talk about it," she whispers after a moment, her tone soft and calm as to not push you into telling her, simply offering you her comfort if you wanted it. You pull back from the safety of her neck, only just being able to see the enticing green that were gazing at you ever so softly, the gentle light streaming in through the curtains somehow perfectly highlighting her face in a soft glow, your eyes admiring her features.

"I just want to forget about it," you murmur, sliding your leg in between hers as you cuddled under the sheets, moving even closer to her body, able to feel all of her pressed up against you. "To forget about her," you mutter, one of Wanda's hands slipping from under your shirt to softly push some of your hair back, her fingers threading through your locks to scratch your scalp softly, your body melting against her even more.

"I think I know something that could help," she whispers, keeping her tone light as she had a vague idea of where your thoughts were heading. Every time you'd think about your mother, your thoughts would automatically go to all the lies she told you, your mind believing all the vile things she would say to you. Wanda hated how you could think so lowly of yourself, so she'd try her best to show you that she loved you, that she was here for you.

Your eyes contain a glint of curiosity in them at her words, her smile softening as it grows a little at the mere sight of you, her hand slipping from your hair to cup your cheek.

 She pulls you closer gently, her lips pressing against you in a way that was heavenly. It was so incredibly soft, her mouth claiming yours in a manner that was nothing but tender, loving and affectionate, all of her love for you being poured into it. It was almost overwhelming at how delicate the kiss was, your thoughts being replaced by the sheer amount of love you held for the woman in your arms, a soft sigh leaving her before her lips met yours again. Your chest bubbled with warmth as a smile took over your face, her silent message enough to cause all the worry and negative thoughts to fade away, your mind, heart and soul entirely consumed by her.

"I love you," her words a mere whisper, tone somehow containing more love than the kiss, various emotions flooding through you at the immense amount of care you were feeling. "You're everything I want and more, Detka, never doubt that," she murmurs, pressing another kiss to your lips, your eyes lost in her green as she keeps your gaze, expressing her emotions.

"You're all I'll ever want, all I'll ever need," you whisper back, matching her tone, yours dripping with honesty and intimacy as you lean your forehead against hers. "I love you."

With a final kiss, you move your head back to her neck, letting out a small sigh as you relax against her, her arms holding you close as she lets you drift off to sleep, her eyes watching your adoringly before she follows suit, another soft 'I love you' gracefully spilling from her lips.  

[afro-hispwriter]

The Outsider and The Chief’s Daughter(Bound)pt. 1

Neteyam(20) x Metkaynia!reader(20)

Summary- Jake and Neytiri know this love story all too well. The outsider falls in love with the Chief's daughter, who's promised to someone else.

Song- Bound by Ponderosa Twins Plus One

-

Flying away from his homeland was not how Neteyam thought this year was going to go. But when the RDA managed to capture his siblings and Spider. Everyone knew they were getting better and that was dangerous to all the na’vi. 

He hung back from his family. Hadn’t spoken to any of them in the time they flew. He was angry and confused, but mostly just defeated. 

The Eastern seas of Pandora were beautiful. The creatures below are mesmerizing.

“Dad, what clan did you say we were going to?” Neteyam calls to his father over the winds

“The Metkayina, they’re just a few miles away!” Neteyam nodded and sat back on the saddle, going back to a frown.

“Oh come on bro, stop sulking and look on the bright side. Maybe and hopefully there will be some hot water babes.” Lo’ak laughs and Neteyam rolls his eyes.

They flew over the reefs. They started calling out for the clan not to attack. A horn sounded loudly announcing their arrival. They landed on the beach and the people began crowding them. They got off their ikrans, weary of the people.

“On me,” Jake says and starts walking towards them, arms raised. They were surrounded instantly, some curious others scared. As they were now crowded, Neteyam took in everyone. Watching for anything unusual. Three na’vi men walked through the crowd, tattoos on their bodies. They started to circle closely. Neteyam and Lo’ak signed ‘I see you’ but received nothing back. “Easy just be cool.” 

“What is that?” One says and smacks the other. “Is that supposed to be a tail?” They all laugh. Netayk and Lo’ak side-eye each other until their attention was brought to the water. Two women rode up on their companions. They looked at each other before diving into the water. When they stepped out Neteyams heart froze. You were both absolutely beautiful but he could only see you, who he assumed was the older. 

He stared at you as you got closer, jaw almost slacking. 

Lo’ak was entranced by the youngest but looked away. Trying to hide a blush.

“How are they supposed to swim?” One of the guys behind them said and pointed. 

“Reykxu.” You scold and smack his hand, and he growled at you. You sighed and rolled your eyes. “Aounung be better, Roxto you are better than bullying.” Neteyam could hear the authority in your voice which made him wonder what your role is. Tsireya shakes her head and turns to the boys.

“Hey.” He says and she blushes and giggles. You elbow her playfully. You look to the man next to the other and he smiles at you, then signs ‘I see you’, with a sly smirk. You smile and sign back. He bit his lip and looked you up and down making you blush and look away. 

Reykxu watched the interaction, suddenly his playful manner turned into a glare. Neteyam looked back at the man behind you and saw the glare. He stood up straight and pushed his shoulders back. Already knowing he would have an issue with him. Reykxu did the same and you looked between them. You patted  Reykxu’s chest and shook your head. 

Three large skim wigs flew above you making some crouch down. Your father, Tonowari landed in the water and hopped off his skimwig. 

You knew who the family was, well more who Jake Sully and Neytiri were. Everyone knew their story. Tonowari and Jake signed to each other. The family followed Jake's actions. Slowly the people started making a path as your mother Ronal walked through. They all signed to her but she didn’t respond, just stared at him.

“Why do you come to us, Jake Sully?”

“We seek uturu.”

“Uturu!?” 

“We are reef people, you are forest people. Your skills will be nothing here.”

“We will learn your ways.” 

Your mother started to circle the Omaticayas and you stared at the oldest son of Jake. Admired him. You took his body in. He is tall, like his father. You would even dare say taller. He was strong. His large arms and shoulders prove that. As well as his very toned stomach that you could not take your eyes off. He chuckled lowly and your eyes shot up. 

“What is your name?” You whisper. 

“Neteyam. Yours?” 

“Y/n.” Neteyam smiled. 

“Ahh Princess of the Metkayina.” He nodded his head like a playful bow making you giggle.

“Their arms are thin,” Ronal says and grabs the youngest Sullys arms. Neteyams head shoots over and goes into protective mode. The little girl ripped her hand from Ronals and hid behind her parents. She grabbed the other woman's tail who was around your age. 

“Ow.” She says and grabs her tail back. 

“You will be slow in the water.” She then grabs her hands and holds them up.

“These children, are not even true Na’vi.” The people gasped and started talking amongst themselves. She walks to Neteyams brother and grabs his hand. “They have demon blood!” The brother looked down like he was ashamed. The people snared and hissed. You looked up at Neteyam and saw the death glare he was giving your mother. You grabbed his wrist and stared at his hands. 

3 fingers

You push your palm against his and let yourself stare at the size difference. His face softened but his body remained tense. You tried to give him a reassuring smile but Reykxu pulled you away. Neteyam glared at him as he watched him speak to you almost harshly. You shook your head at Neteyam and pointed your head back to the scene.

Your mothers snarled at each other. You pushed away from Reykxu and walked to your parents.

“Mother, Father let them stay they are exhausted and they have asked for uturu.” Your father nodded then placed a hand on Jake's shoulder. 

“Toruk Makto is a great war leader, all na’vi people know his story but we Metkayina are not at war.” He turns to Jake. “We cannot let you bring your war here.” 

“Im done with war okay, I just want to keep my family safe.” He says now with his youngest in his arms.

Your parents shared a look, communicating with each other silently. 

“Uturu has been asked.” Says Neytiri. They came to a decision silently. Tonowari took in a deep breath and turned to the people.

“Toruk Makto and his family will stay with us. Treat them as our brothers and sisters.” 

You saw Reytiti out the corner of your eye peering beside Neteyam and looking him up and down. She was almost 3 years your younger but never ceased to try and make your life more difficult. You huffed and dug your toes into the sand. 

“So they will he like babies taking their first breath. Teach them our ways, so they do not suffer the shame of being useless.”

“Okay what do we say?” Jake asks his family and the little one smiles breathlessly.

“Thank you.” 

“Thank you.” The eldest daughter rolls her eyes. 

“My daughter, Y/n, future Tshaik of the Metkayina.” Tonowari put a hand on your upper back. “And daughter Tsireya and son Aounung will show your children what to do.” 

“Father why do I-?” Aounung started but Tonowari stops him.

“Its is decided.”

“Come I will show you the village.” Tsireya steps forward with a big smile.

-

You walked in front of the Sully family along with your sister. You were whispering and giggling amongst yourselves.

“It seems you like the Sully boy.” You tease and she blushes.

“As do you.” You look at her in disbelief.

“I do not, I like Reykxu.” Tsireya lets out a loud sarcastic laugh.

“Oh please, mere hours ago you were saying how much you despise him.” She whispered but very loudly.

“Keep your voice down, he is who Ewya has intended me be with for the rest of my life.” 

“Ewya is known to be wrong or change her mine.” 

You swallow harshly and look back at the tall warrior. Your eyes met and he looked away. 

You introduced the family to their new mauri. You set some of their stuff down and stood up.

“Please let us know if you need anything, your training starts tomorrow.” You tell them and your eyes land on Neteyam. You nod to him and he nods back, eyes following you figure out the door.

-

A/n- part 2 will be soon, let me know if you want to be tagged:)

[the-authoress-writes]

Dangerous Games

Tom “Iceman” Kazansky x Navy Nurse Wife!reader

Synopsis: The saying goes “Play stupid games, win stupid prizes”.

Well, Mrs. Thomas Kazansky is about to learn another version of this saying; “Play dangerous games, win dangerous prizes”.

But she doesn’t exactly mind.

Warnings: Mrs. Kazansky gets a little frisky in public, but nothing explicit, some cursing, and a little bit of steaminess, but again, nothing explicit.

Author’s Note: “I don’t write reader fic”, she said.

“I really don’t”, she said.

But here we are.

And I entirely blame both @valmare and Val himself.

I wrote this as a writing exercise, actually, because @valmare and I have slightly different approaches to Tom Kazansky; she has a more dominant take on him, while mine is more romantic and soppy, but no less passionate (I think).

I wrote this just to see if I could somehow combine both traits/takes in one story.

And… hoo, boy, I like to think I was successful.

That, combined with reading one of my grandmother’s ancient Silhouette Romance novels, I thought it was about time that the turns were tabled on the men.

Let’s be the ones to snap them like twigs, and not the other way around.

Without further ado, here we are!

“So what’s on the agenda today,” she asked her husband, as he sat at the kitchen counter eating his breakfast, while she stood on the other side, finishing her cup of yogurt, before she had to head to work for the shift she was called to fill in at the last minute yesterday.

“Well,” Tom began, after swallowing, “not much, just a meeting which apparently couldn’t wait until Monday, in the afternoon—other than that, nothing else really.

And uh, Mav and the guys are coming back home tonight; like I said last week, Sli and I were going to greet them, and they’re going out for drinks at the O Club later, but I can tell them I can’t go—”

“No, you go, enjoy yourself, I know it’s been a while since you last saw Mav and the flyboys,” she smiled.

In a rare occurrence, Mav and Tom’s deployments didn’t match up, leaving him and Slider on shore, while Mav and Merlin, Wood and Wolf were at sea.

She could hear the calls Tom would make in the evenings to the Vinson, to the various officers who owed him, already rather influential at the recently-received rank of Lieutenant Commander, for updates on Mav in particular.

She’d heard the stories both from the man himself, and from Tom, how the Mitchell name hung like an albatross around the diminutive pilot’s neck, how his basic medical needs were overlooked by dint of his “traitorous” surname.

As a nurse, especially a Navy nurse, it was beyond unconscionable.

She was glad that Mav had Tom as a friend, and it touched her to see the care he extended to his whole TOPGUN class.

“Such a Mother Goose,” Mav and Slider would say, both with sadness, but the former with a soul-deep sadness.

“Are you sure, milaya?” Tom’s voice brought her back to the present, as he came around the counter to step into her personal space, his hands on her waist, infusing her whole being with the warmth that only he could give her. “Because I’m really feeling bad that I have basically a whole day off, and you have to work.

We could have a movie night with some popcorn and ice cream, and you can talk about how people like me are the craziest sons of bitches around,” he grinned, referring to how they met a little over three years ago, after a little training mishap. “I’ll gladly keep your misery company.”

She smiled, resting her hand on the chiseled plane of his bare chest, as her index finger idly played with the chain of his dog tags, “No, like I said, even last week, you go and enjoy yourself with the boys.” Her smile took on a more devilish quirk, “Besides, you can make it up to me later.”

Tom raised an eyebrow, “Oh, I can, can I?”

“I’m pretty sure you’ll manage,” she teasingly replied.

“Uh-huh,” he breathed, stepping impossibly closer, “and how exactly do you want me to make it up to you?”

“You’ll think of something.”

“How about a little down payment, then?”

He didn’t even bother waiting for her positive, always positive, response before one hand was buried in her hair, and his lips were on hers.

It was a kiss full of the easy confidence of a man who knew he was given what he took, and the passion and devotion of one who knew what a gift that was.

She could have gotten lost in her husband’s embrace and kiss for eternity, but the rude realization that she had a shift to prepare for, made her reluctantly, oh-so-reluctantly, push him away.

“As much as I’d really love to continue this, I can’t.

I have to go.”

He pouted like a child, the effect amusing to see on his already-full, kiss-swollen lips, and she gently carded her hand through his hair, soft and slightly curling without the gel, pushing it away from where it flopped onto his forehead. “I know most of this day didn’t pan out how we wanted it to, but we’ll make the best of it—we always do.”

“I know.

You’re sure it’s okay with you if I go out with the boys tonight?”

“Yes, Tom, how many times do I have to tell you?

Go have fun—but not too much fun,” she smiled.

He leaned forward, tucking his head into her neck, inhaling deeply, “You’re the only one I want to have fun with.”

“I would hope so, Thomas Vasilyevich,” she replied, lightly poking him in the side, “seeing as I’m your wife.”

“Oof,” he mock-winced, drawing back to look her in the eyes, “Russian naming me, huh?

Well, Mrs. Kazanskaya, two can play at that game,” he rejoined, leaning in to kiss her again.

However, she pushed him away, laughing, “You are a menace, Thomas Jacob Kazansky!

I have to go!”

“Worth a shot,” he laughed, letting her go.

She gathered her lunch into her bag, along with her paperwork, and shouldered the tote, before turning back to face Tom, who was leaning against the counter, long, sweatpants-clad legs crossed at the ankles, mirroring his arms, a knowing smirk on his lips. “Not going to kiss me goodbye?”

With a sigh, she asked, “If I kiss you goodbye, will you keep your hands to yourself?”

He clicked his tongue, “You drive a hard bargain, lyubimaya moya, but I’ll try.”

“Don’t try, just do,” she replied, amending one of Mav’s favorite sayings, stepping closer to peck him on the lips.

True to his word, he didn’t move an inch, but the regret on his face made her have to resist the temptation to kiss him and say to hell with her shift today. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Okay.”

And here, a sudden idea struck her. “Hey, wait a minute, you said that you guys were going to the O Club, right?”

“Yes,” he replied, drawing out the syllable. “Why?”

“Because I was thinking that if I can, maybe I can meet you guys there, join you flyboys.”

Tom’s eyes lit up. “That’d be great!”

“You guys won’t mind?”

“I won’t mind,” he shook his head.

She good-naturedly rolled her eyes, “I know you won’t mind, what about the guys?”

“I’m sure the guys won’t mind, but they can take it up with me if they don’t like it.

Try to make it?”

“I will—hopefully, I’ll see you later.

And you’re sure you don’t need your other girl today?” she asked, double checking that he didn’t need his Chevelle, since her car was in the shop that week.

“No,” he shook his head, “Slider’s picking me up, you take her.

I love you, milaya.”

“I love you too.”

With that farewell, she dashed out the door, fleeing her own house like Lot, because she knew she’d never leave if she looked back at Tom.

Chaos.

That was what her shift at NMCSD was like.

Some unlucky or hapless person somewhere had probably said “It sure is quiet around here,” or some other variation of that phrase, and brought the wrath of the medical gods down upon them.

She’d had no less than ten emergencies to deal with, and at the end of her shift, she felt—no—knew—she deserved a drink.

A quick glance at her watch showed that it was just before 1800–from her experience, the carriers usually docked at 1500 or 1600, which meant they should all be at the O Club already.

Not wanting to give the charge nurse an opportunity to call her for something else, she practically ripped off her uniform, changing into the nicer spare clothes she kept in her locker just in case she had somewhere to be that wasn’t the grocery or straight home.

It was a worn, but well-fitting pair of jeans, sensible shoes, a tank top, and finally, a white buttondown with vertical blue stripes which she pilfered from Tom’s closet, that she never saw him wear.

After throwing on the shirt, leaving it unbuttoned, and tucking in her tank, she hastily walked (okay, ran) out of NMCSD, and headed to her parking spot.

God had mercy on her, as the traffic was light all the way to the O Club, the Almighty surely knowing that she’d reached her limits of bullshittery, that all she wanted after this day was a stiff drink, and her husband’s company, despite the fact that there would be others around, friends as they were to her.

It was a Saturday night, and the parking lot was full, but she managed to find a spot on the far end of the lot, a slight sheen of sweat breaking on her skin despite the AC, as she maneuvered in, not wanting to scratch her husband’s beloved car.

The flaring, insistent ache in her feet was testament to the long walk to the entrance, exposing just how many people had to be here, and true enough, once she pushed the doors open, the bar was hopping.

She moved through the crowded bar, searching for Merlin, Slider, or Tom—there’d be little hope of finding Wood or Wolf, and no hope of finding Mav, in this press of people.

She was heading through the crowd towards the bar when she smacked straight into someone.

An apology was on her lips, when the person turned, and she heard, “Hey, Mrs. Ice, how are you!”

And she looked up, up, up into the smiling face of Sam “Merlin” Wells.

“Hey, Merls, how are you, how was deployment?” she said, hugging the ludicrously tall RIO.

“Ehh, hot, as usual, but otherwise, uneventful; just running our CAPs, and buzzing the tower every now and then.”

She guffawed, “That’s Mav for you—I don’t know who’s crazier; Mav, or you, for willingly sitting in the same jet as him.”

Merlin leaned down, “Tell you a secret?”

“Sure.”

“Probably me, because I actually enjoy it,” he murmured.

She chuckled, “Oh, Samuel, never change.”

“Hey, what am I doing, let me get you to the guys’ table!

Come on!!”

He put his hand on her shoulder to make sure she didn’t get lost in the crowd, and led her to a table in the back. “Guys, look who I found!”

“Well, hey, if it isn’t my favorite Ice Queen!” Mav cried, leaping to his feet and pulling her into a hug.

“Hey, Mav, how are you?” she beamed, glad to see her husband’s best friend and wingman.

“Better, after seeing your pretty face,” the black-haired pilot grinned a grin which would probably make quite a few people here swoon, if its full force were turned on them.

She smacked his shoulder, though she was unable to stop her smile, “Stop it, you incorrigible flirt, you’re not my type, and even if you were, I’m very happily taken.”

“Ah, you wound me, my fair Ice Queen,” Mav dramatically clutched his chest.

“You’ll live,” she teasingly rolled her eyes.

“Mind getting your hands off my wife, so I can say hello to her, Mav?”

A glance behind Mav showed Tom standing there, a sight in his summer whites, an arch expression on his face, but those who knew him would be able to see the glowing humor in his eyes—but over all, the joy and love.

Mav moved aside, gesturing grandly at her. “All yours.”

“You bet your ass, Mitchell,” Tom nodded.

“Excuse me, I have a very nice ass, I have that on good authority,” the other pilot affrontedly stated as he walked backwards to his seat.

The voice of Charles “Chipper” Piper called, “Ugh, come on, Mav, no one wants to hear about your pasty ass.”

“You’re one to talk, Chip,” Marcus “Sundown” Williams chuckled.

Tom shook his head and stepped closer, making everything else fade into the background, his beautiful smile on his face. “You came.”

“I needed to,” she sighed, “I need a drink.

And the whole you being here is a nice bonus.”

He blushed slightly, ducking his head. “Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Well, come on, let’s get you that drink,” he replied, leading her to the table, around which sat Mav, Merlin, Slider, Wolf, Chipper, and Sundown.

“Hey guys,” she waved, taking the seat beside Tom.

They all greeted her as Tom called over one of the waitresses, ordering his usual vodka on the rocks along with her usual Old Fashioned.

When it arrived, she shocked them all by drinking more than half of it in one sitting, heavily setting the glass down on the table.

“That kind of day, huh, sweetheart?” Tom asked, his voice full of sympathy, warmth, and the slightest hint of laughter.

She turned a baleful look on him. “What do you think?”

He blinked, obviously weighing his words, the rest of the flyboys holding their breath. “I think maybe I should get you another one when you’re done with that.”

“God, I love you, Tom Kazansky,” she breathed.

The table collectively exhaled, as Tom grinned. “Aren’t I lucky?”

The night wore on, dinner eventually being ordered from the bar’s kitchen for everyone, and Merlin was the first to leave, saying that his wife was coming home late that night from taking care of a medical emergency with her mother, who lived on the other side of the States, and he wanted to be there to greet her.

The flyboys tossed peanuts teasingly at Merlin, Chipper and Mav whooping, Merlin flipping them the bird with both hands as he laughed, and said goodnight.

The remaining group continued on, and the vodkas Tom had drunk had loosened him up—he wasn’t drunk by any means, but his laughter was a bit louder, his eyes a bit brighter.

He was telling a story about one of the instructors from the TOPGUN session he’d been asked to help out with, since he wasn’t deployed this rotation.

It was a story she’d already heard, and so she allowed his words to fade slightly, just watching him as he spoke, fiddling with the straw of the second Old Fashioned Tom had ordered for her.

She smiled as he gestured animatedly, making the light glint off the gold ring on his left hand, which matched the one on hers.

Seeing it did funny things to her stomach, seeing the tangible proof that that man was hers.

Add to that the fact that Tom was in his summer whites… it was a cocktail more intoxicating than anything the bar behind her could ever offer.

She exhaled evenly, taking a sip of the water she’d switched to after her second Old Fashioned, admiring the figure he cut, an exemplar of US Naval excellence.

If you asked her later, she wouldn’t be able to tell you why she did it.

But the devilish thought of wanting to see if she could tilt him off-kilter entered her mind regardless, and she hid a smile behind the rim of her water glass.

She nonchalantly shifted her chair closer to Tom and innocently placed a hand above his knee, making him glance at her, and offer her a fleeting smile, while continuing the story.

Ever so carefully, she inched her way towards the inseam of his trousers, rubbing small circles as she went, which got her a minuscule narrowing of his eyes and a barely-there glance as he spoke.

She smiled back, stilling her hand, and he continued.

Once he had relaxed into his chair again, she began moving again, shifting her hand higher and higher, letting her fingernails catch repeatedly on the seam.

He cleared his throat and soldiered on, shifting in his seat, but the slightest tone of strain was beginning to creep into his voice now, and she mustered all the stoicism she’d learned from her husband to keep her face straight.

As her hand moved further up his inseam, she was treated to the sight of his jaw tensing, the sheen of sweat gathering at his temples, the movement of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed thickly, the sound of the strain in his voice, and the hitch in his breath.

She knew that if she continued this, she was playing a very dangerous game, but she couldn’t bring herself to care at that moment.

So she inched further up, letting her fingernails dig into the seam, flicking it almost audibly, which elicited a cough from her husband.

Slider whacked Tom on the back, saying, “You okay, Ice?”

“Yeah,” he rasped, “just—just swallowed the wrong way.”

At this point, she was mere inches away from being so obscenely high on his thigh that the other flyboys would probably see, but just to see what Tom’s reaction would be, she made as though she were going to go there.

Smoothly, he placed his hand atop hers, somehow managing to conceal the fact that he had plucked her hand from basically his lap, bringing it up to his lips as he finished the story, his eyes stormy as he cut his gaze to her.

Maybe, she realized, as she looked into his tempestuous eyes, maybe she had made a very, very big mistake.

After another hour, they began to wrap up, hugging and slapping each other on the back, and for the first time since she’d met Tom Kazansky, she was not looking forward to being alone with him.

When the final farewells had been spoken, Tom wrapped an arm around her shoulder, walking them towards the distinct shape of his Chevelle, visible now that they were some of the last people at the bar.

“I can drive us, if you want,” she offered, testing the waters.

“No, I’ll be the one.

Keys.”

His tone was unreadable, and she fished the keys out of her pocket, handing them to him.

He led her to the passenger’s side, but just before she reached for the handle to open the shotgun door, she found herself pressed against the back passenger door, looking up into her husband’s face.

She refused to buckle at his impassive stare, looking evenly into his eyes; depthless blue, the color of the sea at twilight, in the dim illumination afforded by the streetlamps.

His hand shifted, and her breath hitched, but he only moved his hand past her, the familiar click of the Chevelle’s door release echoing in the thick San Diego night air.

Tom pulled the door further open, inclining his head and stepping back.

She swallowed, but moved to sit in the passenger’s seat, the sound of the shutting door feeling like some sort of passage of sentence.

Moments later, he opened the driver’s side door, sliding in and shutting it, however, he didn’t start the engine.

She held her breath, waiting to see what he would do next, but he only started the car, the purr of the Chevelle doing nothing to ease her tension, serving only to ratchet it up, the familiar streets leading home passing by.

The silence in the car was almost a living entity, made worse by the fact that Tom kept his eyes firmly fixed on the road before them, and she would be lying if she said that her heart wasn’t racing.

She was beginning to see the reasoning behind her husband’s callsign, between his nonchalant attitude and his unerring patience to wait her out, wait for her to slip.

Well.

She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.

…

She hoped so, at any rate.

She’d always been weak for him, honestly, and she suspected she always would be.

Much too soon, they pulled into their driveway, and Tom cut the engine, leaving her in silence, literally and figuratively, as he stepped out without a word.

She briefly debated whether or not to stay in the car, but knew deep down that that was not an option, so she got out of the Chevelle, also making her way inside.

After locking up the doors and checking the rest of the house, she exhaled and looked warily up at the stairs. “‘Screw your courage to the sticking place,’ woman,” she murmured, striding determinedly up the stairs.

The lights were on in the bedroom, and she saw Tom at the dresser, keeping his submariner in its box, his face somehow still impassive.

She moved to the bed, picking up the pile of night clothes she’d laid out that morning, muttering, “I’m going to the bathroom,” and darted towards the en suite.

However, before she could make it there, a hand wrapped around her upper arm, and once again, she got the breath knocked out of her, finding her body pressed against the wall behind her by the solid mass of her husband before her, his hands on either side of her head.

“What was that about tonight, hmm, milaya?” he spoke lowly, making a shiver run down her spine.

“What was what?” she replied, affecting a light tone.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” he replied, implacable.

“Oh, that,” she shrugged, caving slightly.

“Yes, that.

And just what were you thinking?”

“Ehhh—nothing much, really.” Well, she mentally admitted, that much was true.

“Uh-huh.

See, I think you were trying to get me to lose it,” he declared.

She somehow managed to muster up an innocent expression. “Uh, nope, not at all.”

“Sure.

So your hand at my inseam was just complete coincidence, was it?”

“Has to be.”

He stared her down just like he had in the O Club parking lot, attempting to keep his expression stoic, but this close, she could see his eyes—how there was only a thin ring of midnight gray, his pupils blown wide from the desire he was trying to keep down.

She inhaled sharply, her lips parting, and his gaze immediately locked onto the sight.

When he spoke next, his voice was low and trembling. “You don’t know what you do to me.”

“I think I have some kind of idea,” she breathlessly murmured.

“Fuck—” he whispered brokenly before kissing her like he was at 38,000 feet and she was the oxygen he needed to breathe.

Caught in his riptide, she was helpless but to hold onto him.

Air surged back into her lungs as his kisses moved down to her neck, only to be stolen from them moments later, a cry halfway between pain and pleasure carried on her breath, when his ardor seared into the delicate skin there.

“That hand of yours—and you wearing my shirt—you drive me crazy,” he spoke into the juncture of her neck and shoulder.

“I think you like it, though,” she whimpered, hitching her legs around his unfairly narrow waist, as he adjusted his arms to hold her up.

“Damn it, I fucking do,” he groaned, moving them towards the bed.

They had just collapsed onto the comforter, kissing like teenagers, when he broke away to breathe, “You’re still going to pay for what you did, though, you’re not getting out of that.”

“Oh, am I, because it seems to me like your mouth is writing checks your body can’t cash… Commander,” she cocked her eyebrow.

His jaw dropped slightly, followed by a shaky inhalation. “…I shouldn’t have told you about my rank thing.”

Her smirk was halfway to a grin by now. “What are you going to do about it?”

He tilted his head. “You’re asking for it, at this point.”

“Well, then, do what you’re going to do, flyboy; that’s an order.”

A wicked smirk quirked the corner of his lips, full of promise. “Yes, Ma’am.”

NMCSD: Naval Medical Center San Diego

The USS Carl Vinson is a Nimitz-class aircraft carrier commissioned in 1982, and she is still on active duty.

I stole @valmare’s headcanon that Tom drives a Chevelle, because if it’s good enough for Mir, it’s good enough for me!

I’m so sorry Mir!

According to a production photo, Tom’s full name is Thomas Jacob Kazansky, but since I headcanon him as Russian, his patronymic is missing.

So thusly, you have Thomas Jacob Vasilyevich Kazansky.

When Mrs. Kazansky refers to Tom as Thomas Vasilyevich, that is considered a casual, informal, yet somehow in its own way, formal, method of referring to someone.

There’s cultural rules about that.

Tom calls Mrs. Kazansky “Mrs. Kazanskaya”, which follows the Russian and Slavic convention of gendered surnames.

CAPs: Combat Air Patrols

Summer whites are the white version of the khaki uniforms, and you can see them in The O Club bar scene in Top Gun ‘86.

“Screw your courage to the sticking place” is a quote from Shakespeare’s “Macbeth”.

Did I basically steal a line from Top Gun, and completely change the context of it?

Yes.

Yes, I did.

Mrs. Kazansky calls Tom simply “Commander” instead of Lieutenant Commander, because of the convention regarding “double-barreled” ranks.

Russian Glossary

Disclaimer: endearments and translations taken from Google—please don’t hesitate to correct me if I’m wrong, which, odds are, I am.

Milaya: dear, darling (there are other translations of this word, however)

Lyubimaya moya: my darling/my one and only sweetheart

Taglist

@valmare

If you’d like to join my taglist, just send me an ask!

[flowerandblood]

The Vanity and Variability

[ Jane Austen • Aemond x Baratheon • female ]

[ warnings: angst, mention of trauma, violence ]

[ description: Despite coming from a family with royal blood, Aemond is forced because of his brother's debts to choose one of the daughters of the famously wealthy general, Borros Baratheon, as his wife to save his family from bankruptcy. When he arrives to make his choice he is distraught and discouraged, made all the more so by watching from the sidelines his youngest daughter, who seems more intrigued by his dog than her possible future husband. Slow burn, sexual tension, regency and Jane Austen prose vibe, vain, self-righteous Aemond. ]

A story which is an alternative universe of The Impossbile Choice taking place in regency times (1805-1815). The characters are all the same as in the main series, however, for obvious reasons they will behave differently and experience things differently from medieval times. You can read this without having to delve into the main series.

Aemond & Miss Baratheon & Vhagar Moodboard

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

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

_____

The Targaryen family name was one of the most famous and respected in London. His father's great-grandfather had been a duke, so royal blood flowed in them, and their family estate had been part of the kingdom for centuries.

He grew up with a sense of his own uniqueness, which his grandfather, his mother's father, Otto, constantly reminded him and his siblings of, remarking on their upbringing, their gait, the way they spoke. From an early age, everything they did was to testify to their origins and properly represent them to the world.

They were not allowed to run or shout, they were not allowed to eat with their hands, keep their elbows on the table, swear or laugh loudly. He was not allowed to play with other children, instead he was expected to keep reading and expanding his knowledge, and at the age of twelve he could already speak French and Italian as well.

And then, during one of the fencing training sessions with his nephew that his grandfather had forced him to do, he lost his left eye. Luke, enraged at his loss swung his sword as he managed to pull off his protection and the blade sliced his left cheek in half.

Having learned that he was not allowed to cry or scream, he howled and sobbed into his pillow all night, praying that his grandfather would not hear him.

Neither his position nor his wealth could change his appearance.

Although his father had a first-born son, his elder brother Aegon, everyone knew that he would have preferred the family estate to pass to his eldest daughter after his death, his only child, whom he had fathered with his first wife, who had died.

They had spent their entire lives in the shadow of his affections for her, simply existing in large palatial spaces, unsure if they were of any use to anyone at all. Knowing that he would inherit nothing, that he had only his name and his disfigured, ugly face, he hid in the world of literature, disappearing for hours in the library thus forgetting the woes of his life.

He knew that eventually he would be forced to marry a woman of similar status to himself.

When he first met the Countess Rivers, a wealthy widow much older than him, he thought she could become his wife, he even suggested it to his grandfather. He, however, laughed at his suggestion, saying that this woman had only married the Count for money and had tricked her way into his bed and then deprived him of his life for sure.

That didn't stop him, after a few grand balls in London, from locking himself away with her in seclusion and enjoying all that was female flesh and female fulfilment, feeling for the first time that he was not a repulsive child, but a man.

Life, however, made a mockery of him again when it turned out that Aegon had lost such large sums of money at cards over the years that, despite the fact that his brother was now a grown man who had a wife, Otto had beaten him before his eyes with a cane as if he were a small child again.

Aegon wailed and whimpered as he laid on the ground, writhing in pain, still drunk, and his grandfather hissed between hits that he was their ruin, their greatest misfortune.

Then his grandfather presented everyone at the evening meal with the solution to the problem they faced.

"Borros Baratheon is an extremely wealthy general with as many as five daughters ready to marry, he is known for his immense love for them, so I am confident that their dowries will be appropriate and also, if we play it right, he will give us a loan so that we can pay our immediate debts. Aemond, you will travel to Chelsfield to rest a little and choose your future spouse during this time." He said lightly, and everyone around him froze.

He heard Aegon's loud, amused laughter as he clapped his hands, the sound echoing throughout the room in the uncomfortable silence that followed.

"An excellent thought, grandfather. Right, brother? There's nothing better than to fuck a country wench." He said taking a glass of wine and raising it to his lips, their mother slammed her fist on the table, silencing him with a hiss, his wife lowered her gaze, embarrassed and ashamed.

Aemond did not listen to him or his mother. He stared at his grandfather wide-eyed, his jaw clenched, his fingers outstretched on the table rubbing against each other intensely in a nervous gesture.

"Is this supposed to be a joke?" He choked out finally, deadly serious, unable to believe what he was hearing.

His whole life, everything he'd denied himself, everything he'd learned was to serve who he was, his heritage, he hadn't been allowed to marry Alys despite her surpassing them all in stature, and now he was to choose from five simpering daughters of some village general?

His grandfather raised an eyebrow in displeasure.

"Ask your brother about that. Thanks to him we have no liquidity, we are finished. We need money, and Borros Baratheon has it. Marry one of his daughters and be happy you have plenty to choose from." He said impatiently, and Aemond got up from the table, leaving the room with a loud slam of the door against the walls.

He rushed into his room like a storm, ordering his servants not to let anyone in, and circled around his bed one way and the other, feeling like shouting, feeling like throwing something or destroying something, but he knew he couldn't do it, that it wasn't proper.

He finally knelt down in the middle of his room catching himself by his hair, burying his face in his arms and crying helplessly like a baby.

How many more humiliations did he have to endure in his life for God to decide that enough was enough?

How much more could he pray?

Why didn't God listen to him even though he went to church with his mother every Sunday, prayed in the morning and before bed with attention and focus?

Why was he not a good enough son either in the eyes of his father or God himself?

He knew there was no going back from his grandfather's decision. He knew that his mother would never defy him and his father would not take any interest in the matter even if he married a strange woman from the fair.

After a week he sat in the carriage that was to take him to Chelsfield and looked out of the window at the busy streets of London, inside sat with him Vhagar, his dog whom he had received as a gift from his mother for his tenth birthday.

She was beautiful, looking like a giant snow fox with white soft fur and a long snout. She was the only one he confided in, the only one he cried with, the only one with whom he could be weak, plaintive, whimsical, cheerful or happy.

Chelsfield was not far from London and they covered that distance in a few hours. Aemond pressed his lips together as he saw through the window a quite grand, country manor house of white brick, overgrown on all sides with ivy.

He saw a man in their army uniform step out, followed by a young boy and a whole bunch of girls in long high-waisted gowns.

He felt like throwing up at the sight of them.

When the door opened Vhagar was the first to fly out and despite him calling her she ran ahead, curious about the new smells and spaces. He felt rage when one of Lord Baratheon's daughters, who also looked to be the youngest, not yet pinning her hair into a bun, but having it partly loose, partly braided at the back of her head, ran towards her, reaching out to her.

He feared that Vhagar would bite her, unused to the sudden presence of strangers, her father thought the same, for he immediately moved towards her, rebuking her, but Vhagar only barked loudly and jumped at her, almost knocking her over.

The girl laughed out loud, catching her around the waist as if she was dancing and they both continued in such an embrace, Vhagar started sniffing her and licking her face.

He had never felt so embarrassed in his life.

Lord Baratheon greeted him with a few meaningless sentences, mentioning what an honour it was for him and that his room was ready, that he hoped he would find peace here and a bit of a break from the hustle and bustle of the city.

He figured the last thing he'd find in this place was rest.

He nodded at his words, pulling his cylinder off his head and following him through the main door to his house, escorted by the curious stares of his daughters.

When he finally locked himself into the room that was to belong to him for now, he sat down on the bed and grabbed his head, feeling like he was about to pass out. He couldn't imagine spending every evening with them, forced to talk to each of his daughters in turn.

He hated talking to strangers, he didn't have the gift to converse easily and he put his thoughts together with difficulty into full sentences, and the more he stressed about it, the worse it got.

He figured they'd tire him to death here, and he'd still have to choose which one of these silly girls to take with him and, horror of horrors, marry her, share his bed and his life with her. He shook his head at the thought, sighing heavily.

He didn't leave until the evening, terrified and discouraged, unpacking in his room, which was small by his standards. He looked out of the window and saw a rather pleasant view of the park, trees and hills.

He heard barking and noticed how the same girl who had let Vhagar lick her face in his presence ran across the grass with her, acting almost as if she were a second dog, laughing loudly, throwing her a long stick again and again.

He had never seen Vhagar in such euphoria before.

What kind of house was this?

When it was time for dinner he dressed himself in proper attire, adjusted the black ribbon in which his hair was tied, made sure his eye patch was fastened tightly enough, and went down the stairs feeling as if he was going to beheading.

As he entered the room, which he understood was the dining room, he noticed a beautifully decorated long table, a large fireplace at the end of the hall, lots of portraits and landscapes on the walls , tables and chairs all around.

Everyone stood up at the sight of him and nodded at him, and he reciprocated the gesture, walking unhurriedly to his seat, which was to the left of Mr Baratheon, and which should have been occupied by his eldest son. He saw with surprise that his son was seated opposite him, and only then realised that he had not seen Mrs Baratheon anywhere.

"Let's eat." Ordered Mr Baratheon in his booming, low, throaty voice and nodded to his servants, who one by one began to put food on their plates. As he expected, Mr Baratheon immediately addressed him.

"I hope you find your room comfortable and lacking in nothing, Mr Targaryen." He said lightly, without overbearing or teasing, it was more a statement than a question. Aemond nodded without looking at him.

"Yes, thank you very much. I'm not missing anything." He replied indifferently, grabbing his spoon, wanting to immediately start eating to prevent further conversation. The girl next to him couldn't resist, after a few minutes she tried to initiate light conversation with him.

"How do you find the landscapes of Chelsfield, Mr Targaryen?" She asked softly, and he turned his cool gaze on her, thinking in his head that it was the cheesiest question he had ever heard.

She was the only one with fair hair and seemed to him to be the oldest, her breasts were large and full as were her other shapes, and she had a pretty, common face, but not enough to tempt him.

"They are pleasant." He replied coolly, putting down his spoon so that the servant knew to take his plate from him. The girl beside him fell silent, discouraged.

"The day after tomorrow we will all go to church. Will you accompany us, Mr Targaryen?" Another of his daughters sitting across the table asked him, looking at him curiously, her lips slightly parted, as if defiantly, which he found displeasing.

She was trying to coquette him, to show him physically that she was attracted to him.

"Of course." He replied just as dispassionately, immediately getting down to his second dish as soon as it was served in front of him, wanting to finish the meal as quickly as possible.

As soon as he had succeeded in doing so he stood up and calmly announced that he wished to rest after his journey and retire to his room. Mr Baratheon agreed to this without much concern, watching him closely as he bowed and left without another word.

As he locked himself in his room he felt relieved. He pulled off his tailcoat, staying in just his chemise and trousers, and sat down at the cabinet, which he opened and was relieved to find stationery, quills, inkwell and ink there.

He started to write a letter to his mother, but crossed it out quickly and crumpled the piece of paper, throwing it down with rage.

Why should he lie, reassure her that he was content, that he liked it here, when it wasn't true?

He felt like he was locked in a cage with no way out, he knew he couldn't poke his nose out of his room if he wanted peace and quiet and the thought filled him with despair.

Resigned, he reached into his trunk and pulled out the books he had brought with him to somehow sweeten this awful time, these weeks he was to spend in this feral house full of simpletons.

Only after a while did he realise that Vhagar was not in his room.

He cursed loudly, running his hand over his face, devastated at the thought that surely she was still with that girl rolling around in the grass with her.

He fought with himself wondering if he should just let them stay together since they wanted to, but he felt anger because this was his dog, his closest friend, and she was taking her away from him.

As if his life had taken too little from him.

He stood up driven by rage and opened the door, looking around with a pounding heart. He heard Vhagar growling and barking in one of the rooms and knocked on it quietly, hoping to settle the matter quickly.

He heard someone run up to the door and open it quickly, Vhagar flew out and jumped on him, which had never happened before and he rebuked her immediately.

"Vhagar! Calm down! Sit." He commanded her, trying to be quiet and don't wake anyone. She sat down, breathing heavily, her tongue dangled on the left side of her mouth bobbing from her rapid breaths, her tail scrubbing the floor with joy, euphoria in her eyes.

What was happening to her?

"I was just teaching her a new trick." He heard the whisper of a girl who preferred to greet his dog first rather than him despite the fact that he could be her future husband.

He looked at her coldly, frustrated and bitter, a smile and gentle contentment on her face, she was standing in front of him in only a nightgown and a shawl thrown over her shoulders, her hair already completely loose.

He felt ashamed, it was the first time he had seen a woman in such a negligee. Even during his close-ups with Alys, he had never undressed her, simply not having the time to do so. He looked away, tightening his lips.

"Don't come near my dog again." He hissed, whistling at Vhagar, and she moved after him, stopping once in a while, turning towards her.

He felt furious and grabbed her suddenly by the fur on her neck, wanting to drag her forcibly to his room, like a small child who wants to snatch a toy from another child, and she began to squeal in pain and pull herself out of his grasp.

"− no! − please! − wait −" She begged and he let go of her, suddenly realising that he was causing her pain and watched, panting heavily, as Vhagar ran back to her room.

The girl looked at him apologetically and went back there, he heard her whisper to Vhagar to follow her, not to be afraid.

He stared ahead dully realising that he had just hurt the only being in the world who truly loved him.

That Vhagar would now be afraid of him too.

He felt like crying.

Miss Baratheon finally came out of her room holding something in her hand, evidently a piece of meat from the roast that she must have taken to her room after dinner and using it to train her.

Vhagar came up behind her, sniffing what she had in her hand, but when she saw him she lowered her ears and stepped back, afraid he would do to her again what he had done a moment before.

The girl approached him quickly, handing him the piece of meat she was holding.

"Hand it to her and call her out, just don't get angry." She said to him quietly as if they were acquaintances, but he decided he would not think of that, too distraught that Vhagar hated him so he knelt before her, extending his hand to her, and Miss Baratheon knelt beside him.

"− come, Vhagar − I'm sorry − it's all right −" He whispered and saw his dog begin to wag his tail again, she approached him slowly, uncertainly and sniffed his fingers, then licked them and ate what he held between them.

She pressed her white head against his chest, rubbing against him, and he felt a burning sensation under his eyelids, his lower lip trembling slightly.

"− I'm so sorry −" She said softly in a voice filled with guilt.

He heard her rise and looked at Vhagar, entering his room, and she ran after her at once. He moved behind them and watched in disbelief as she sat down on his floor and Vhagar lay down right next to her, placing her paw on her thigh, letting her know that she wanted to continue playing with her.

She had never behaved like this towards him and he had no idea what he should do with a girl sitting on the floor of his room in the middle of the night.

After a moment, however, Miss Baratheon stood up and looked at him, swallowing loudly, clearly realising herself that she shouldn't be there.

"− I'm sorry for the intrusion, I just wanted her to come in here − good night −" She mumbled almost running out and closing the door behind her, Vhagar wanted to run after her but didn't make it.

He lay down on his bed, distraught, and Vhagar ran up to him, having already forgotten the unpleasant event of a few minutes before, licking him devotedly and tenderly on the face.

"Traitor." He hissed angrily and regretfully, stroking her soft fur.

For the first time in his life, he let her jump on his bed and sleep with him.

Here, there were no his grandfather or servants to report this behaviour to him, which was completely unthinkable.

He fell asleep snuggled into her soft fur, ignoring the fact that she ended up taking up most of the bedding, pushing him to the side.

He thought it was an exceptionally pleasant feeling.

When he woke up in the morning he again felt the stress overpowering him at the thought of breakfast, the fact that this girl had probably blabbed everything to her sisters, saying that he was a violent, cold and aggressive man who hurt his own dog.

However, when he came downstairs with Vhagar his dog immediately ran to her to greet her, also coming up later to her father and brother, who called out to her, eventually making the rounds around the table, getting acquainted with each in turn.

"She's beautiful." Said the second of their sisters, slightly melancholy and hearty.

At breakfast, Mr Baratheon finally introduced his daughters properly to him taking advantage of the lighter atmosphere. He nodded pretending to try to remember their names, thinking with relief only that his youngest child had apparently not mentioned to him the commotion that had taken place during the night.

"I heard loud barking yesterday in your room. Why are you taking Mr Targaryen's dog for yourself?" Asked the girl who had tried to coquette him the day before, and from what he had just learned her name was Floris.

Her younger sister gave him a quick, apologetic glance full of guilt, her gown creamy and buff, pleasantly accentuating the shape of her breasts, some of her curls pinned back, some falling over her shoulders.

"I'm not taking her away, we've just become very friendly." She mumbled, and her sister snorted at her words.

"It's not appropriate." Said another sister, Cassandra, a blonde-haired girl who tried unsuccessfully to make light conversation with him.

He watched Mr Baratheon's youngest child collapse under more and more criticism, and thought with surprise that he felt no satisfaction from it.

"That's enough." Ordered Mr Baratheon, seeing that his daughter was on the verge of crying. "My dear, apologise to Mr Targaryen for your behaviour and for taking his dog for yourself."

He saw her lift her gaze to him, her eyebrows arched in pain, her chest rising and falling in shaky breaths.

"I am deeply sorry for my behaviour and all the unpleasantness that came with it." She choked out finally and he swallowed loudly, clenching his hand into a fist knowing that only he and she understood the context of that sentence.

He thought with shame that he had reacted too impulsively and aggressively in front of her, even though her opinion didn't matter to him, he couldn't get the expression on her face out of his head, her cry full of pain when Vhagar started squealing.

"I also apologise, miss Baratheon." He said lowly, looking at his fingers moving in an uncertain gesture across the table top, wanting her to know that he regretted what had happened, what she had seen. Floris sitting next to him moved restlessly.

"Mr Targaryen, do not apologise to her. She is like an animal herself." She said with amusement, and her younger sister pressed her trembling lips together, fighting for a moment against whatever was rising in her throat, but finally gave up and got up from the table, leaving the room before the tears had time to leave the corners of her eyes.

Her older brother followed her out, saying he would check how she was feeling, and there was an uncomfortable silence broken by their father.

"That was unnecessary, Floris." He said impatiently, his daughter snorting at his words.

"She's embarrassing us all, I just gave her something to think about."

"What a pathetic thing to say." He growled, taking a sip of tea from his cup, setting it down on the saucer with a clatter of porcelain, and only after a moment did he realise that he had said aloud what he had thought.

He didn't dare raise his eyes, feeling the pounding of his heart, feeling that all gazes were directed towards him.

"With your permission." He muttered, rising from his seat, bowing and leaving the dining room, feeling like he was going to burn from embarrassment.

How could he say something like that?

He felt that he needed air and walked outside onto the dirt road, whistling at Vhagar who ran after him, deciding to take a walk to clear his head.

He walked for a long time, going through the forest paths and then strolling around the lake, amazed at the overpowering stillness that reigned all around, the birdsong, the rustling of the leaves, the freshness of the air.

In London, everything was fast, sudden, loud.

Tiring.

He sat down on the sand by the edge of the lake and closed his eyes, listening to the sound of the water, to the sounds of nature, feeling Vhagar lay down beside him, sighing heavily. He continued like this for what seemed like an eternity, and decided that he could spend hours here, simply calming and soothing himself, hiding from the world.

He shuddered as he heard someone's footsteps in the distance, Vhagar instantly rising and literally darting towards the girl he would have recognised from a mile away.

He sighed heavily, turning his face towards the surface of the water, figuring he wouldn't pay any attention to her. Just as he thought, she sat down beside him on the sand, as he did, leaning her head against a long, old tree trunk.

She didn't say a word to him, however, letting Vhagar settle down between them, stroking her head, which she laid on her thighs. When he glanced at her he saw that her eyes were closed, that she was doing exactly the same thing he was doing.

She was running away.

He relaxed at the thought that she wasn't looking for a discussion or a intimacy with him and did the same as she did.

He shuddered, looking around, unsure of where he was or what was happening, running his hand over his face. He'd never fallen asleep outside before, much less in the middle of nowhere. He looked around and saw Vhagar lying on her back, sleeping soundly, embraced by Miss Baratheon, who was asleep snuggled against her fur.

He did not know what he thought of this sight, endlessly innocent and harmless. He was afraid someone had seen or would see them, but he didn't want to touch her, so he grunted loudly. She moved suddenly, blinking her eyelids rapidly, and rose to sit down, rubbing her eyes, as confused as he was.

Feeling that what had happened was uncomfortable to say the least, he stood up and whistled at Vhagar, heading back the same way he had come, leaving her alone.

She did not follow him and he felt relieved at the thought.

Halfway through, however, he stopped, feeling anxious, wondering if he should leave her alone in the forest. He fought the thought convincing himself that since she had gone there herself, she would return on her own, knowing the area better than he did, but on the other hand, he would never let Helaena venture this far, and she was still very young.

What if something happened to her?

He cursed in frustration and turned back, coming across her after a few minutes. She looked at him surprised, clearly not expecting him to come back for her.

"Did you forget something, sir?" She asked him uncertainly, and he rolled his eyes impatiently, turning his back on her.

"Come, for God's sake."

They walked side by side in silence, simply admiring the pleasant summer views of meadows and forests, not a living soul around them.

He had to admit that these views filled him with some strange sense of warmth, landscapes that he usually only saw in paintings now appeared before his eyes, even more beautiful, teeming with life and intense, strong colours.

They returned to the mansion together, which did not escape the attention of the household, he saw that Maris and Floris literally threw themselves at her as soon as he moved on, thinking he could not hear.

"What are you thinking? What have you done?"

"Nothing." She said impatient and resentful, fatigue and despair in her voice.

"Stop. I asked you a question. You forced yourself on Mr Targaryen again, didn't you?" He heard Floris's voice and stopped in mid-step, tightening his lips.

The youngest Miss Baratheon wanted to say something in her defence, devastated by the accusations, but it was he who spoke up first.

"How are you not ashamed?" He asked, looking over his shoulder at her, all three of them suddenly silent. "It's better to be silent sometimes than to confirm one's stupidity."

Floris probably didn't believe for a moment that he had said that, but when it finally dawned on her that he was deadly serious, she burst into sobs, running into the house, hitting him with her shoulder, Maris ran in after her.

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, and she looked at him in disbelief, not knowing herself what she thought of his cruel words. He whistled at Vhagar and walked up the stairs to the inside of their mansion, leaving her alone with her thoughts about what kind of man he actually was.

_____

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[bless-my-demons]

Redamancy: Chapter Eleven

Series Summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?

Warnings: Cannon typical violence

Notes: A few days late, so thank you for waiting! I had a rough weekend, but I couldn’t not put something out for you wonderful people that have shown me so much love for this story.

Word Count: 1491

Series Masterlist

• March 16th, 2005 • Bella’s Ballet Studio •

Reader

I swear, Isabella Swan sure knows how to talk me into some seriously stupid plans. Okay, so maybe she didn’t really talk me into joining her, but I couldn’t exactly let her go face a bloodthirsty vampire on her own. Two humans against one vampire, not much by the way of odds considering we have no means for being any kind of physical challenge.

We managed to slip past Alice and Jasper while they were in the lobby checking out. After getting a phone call from Edward that the nomads figured out the rouse, both he and Jasper decided to get us far away… whatever that means long-term.

“So… you got a plan?” I ask her once we exit the taxi.

Jasper is going to murder me for managing to run away from him undetected and throwing myself head first into danger.

“I hadn’t really thought that far, he’s got my mom Y/n.” She pauses a few seconds before turning to enter the ballet studio she attended as a kid and I follow.

It’s silent in the building until we enter the main studio room lined with mirrors.

“Bella! Bella? Bella-where are you?” I hear her mom call out.

“Mom?” Bella begins running in the direction of her voice with me hot on her heels, “Mom?” She asks again as she whips open the doors to a closet in the back of the room.

Only it’s empty. Except for a tv. Playing an old home-movie of Bella as a child.

“That’s my favorite part,” the nomad James taunts Bella as he stalks toward us, “You were a stubborn child, weren’t you?”

Renee isn’t here, never was.

Terror, absolute terror shocks through me. It’s a trap and we walked straight into it without even questioning it. Jasper and Alice don’t even know where we are, I can only hope they’ve even figured out we’re gone by now.

I turn to run to the doors we just entered through, if I could just get outside and call-

But James is there in a flash, hand fisted around my throat. “Leaving so soon? The party hasn’t started yet.” He throws me against a wall as he stalks forward to Isabella, “Have a seat, you won’t want to miss this.”

I continue to flash in and out of consciousness as he plays with the both of us, taunting Edward and Jasper in his twisted video. Breaking Bella’s leg, a blow to my side to keep me from running again, the pain was all-encompassing.

And my only thought was, I hope they find us in time.

“Darlin’, can you open your eyes for me?” Frantic words and cold fingers ghost over my skin.

I manage to crack one blurry eye open, “Jasper?” I croak out slightly confused. How long have I been out? Am I still in the studio?

“Carlisle!” Is the Jasper Hale panicking? I crack a smile on my busted lips and it earns me a line of questioning.

“What’s so funny, doll? Hmm?” Chilly hands continue to inspect my broken body, I can see his wide eyes flicking over my injuries. Not hunger - no, concern.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you panic, Hale.” I say calmly, at odds with the chaos stirring around us.

“Well, I’ve never seen you… like this. Because of me.” He won’t meet my gaze.

“Not because of you,” cough “I made the decision to tag along with Bella,” I paused to let out a particularly rough cough, “we thought he had,” another cough “her mom, we had to do something.”

“Carlisle, I need you!” He’s definitely panicking now, the tone in his voice getting harder the more labored my breathing.

“What’s-” but his dad stops mid-question as he slides up to the side not occupied by his son, his gaze accessing. “Talk to me Y/n, what hurts?”

“Uh, everything?” The stern look I receive from both men has me reconsidering. “Chest - feels like someone is sitting on it. Head definitely got smacked around and my arm-“ I try to lift it show Carlisle.

“Sprained at the wrist, but not broken. Ribs probably broken, maybe a punctured lung, definitely a concussion.” Jasper lets out a breath at his dad’s assessment like he’s been punched and I roll my head in his direction.

Carlisle turns to his son, “Help Emmett take care of James, I’ve got her.” He doesn’t offer him a comforting touch, as if Jasper’s distressed state were a palpable and volatile thing.

Jasper gives him a hard look for a few beats before nodding. Not sparing me a glance, he disappeared from my limited view before I could blink.

“I’m taking both you and Bella to the hospital, I don’t have the supplies to treat either one of you. I don’t have anything to even give you a needle decompression, like I suspect you need and soon.” Carlisle briefs me as he finishes up his assessment of my broken body.

“Don’t call my mom, please-“

“Y/n, she deserves to know you’re injured.” He replies softly. “And it’ll be impossible to avoid explaining your injuries when you return home.”

My open eye blinks slowly, trying to think of a plan that doesn’t involve freaking my mother out.

“Y/n?” Carlisle pats my cheek lightly to gain my attention, but I can’t hear him anymore. Muffled shouting and I’m lifted in a pair of arms that are semi-familiar. I groan in pain and I’m shushed gently before everything fades to black.

At least the darkness takes away the pain.

• March 18th, 2005 • Hospital - Phoenix, Arizona•

Jasper

Beep, beep, beep… The heart monitor grating on every exposed nerve in my chest. As someone not completely accustomed to an animal-only vampire diet, hospitals are a massive no-go, but I didn’t really have a choice. Not when it comes to her.

So I swallow the white-hot hunger and try to let the incessant beeping lull me into a meditative state. She’ll be okay, that’s what her doctor and my father told me.

Four broken ribs, a punctured lung, a sprained wrist, a fractured orbital bone, and a mild concussion. My hands tighten painfully to ground me in the moment, James is dead - hell, he’s ash now. He hurt her and now he no longer terrorizes my girl which is good enough for me, has to be.

I know he filmed it, Edward watched it, but I can’t bring myself to. After sensing his rage, I know I would absolutely combust from anger, to see his hands on her… I can’t. I can hardly stand to sit here across the room and see her face bruised and swollen, body covered with tubes and wires.

A sharp intake of breath pulls me from the dark recesses of my mind. I want to stand and walk to her, but I don’t quite have a grip on my control yet. Anger, hunger, or this terrified feeling lodged in my throat.

“Jaz?” She croaks out, not seeing me due to her eye injury obstructing her view.

“I’m here.” I assure her, the quiet rumble of my voice having a noticeable relaxing effect on her tired body.

“Why are you-” a pause, “Oh god-I’m in a hospital-” I immediately flash to her side as her heartbeat picks up and worry begins to flood the room.

“Shh sweetheart, you’re alright.” Smoothing the hair on her forehead and her emotions at the same time.

“No-you,” she chokes out, “you-you’re here and-and-”

“I’m fine. I’m not letting you out of my sight.” I tell her resolutely, my fingers still caressing her beautiful face.

“If it hurts too much, if you aren’t ready to be in a place like this, I’ll understand. Your eyes…” her fingers trace lightly over the tops of my cheeks and I hold perfectly still. My eyes must be pitch black by now, but there are more important matters - like her in this hospital bed.

I give her a wan smile, “Darlin’, I’m exactly where I need to be.”

A blush rises to her cheeks at my words and it eases the restriction in my chest a fraction.

Her smile cracks, “My mom?”

“Downstairs.” Her face blanches completely, “I called her, she’s not mad-“

But her mother opens the door to her room slowly, trying to preserve the quiet.

“Mom?” Y/n asks tenderly, I stand to give them space as she rushes to her daughter’s bedside.

“I’m going to go find my father.” I tell them, giving Y/n one more lingering look before disappearing silently out of the door, save for the click of the latch.

“He’s been here the whole time,” her mom starts explaining, “I haven’t been able to get him to leave your side to even eat anything…” I stop paying attention as I walk down the corridor to give them privacy.

Next

[dreamfyrie]

End of the Day

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x His Family

Dinner with you and the kids was Aemond's favorite part of the day. His time was mostly spent in small council meetings trying to run the kingdom while Aegon was out doing whatever he pleased. Aegon had declared him Hand of the King early on in his reign, and Aemond was honored. That was before he had become a father and met you, though. Now he was trapped in a continuous cycle of counting down the minutes until he got to reunite with you and the children every evening.

He loved hearing his kids talk about everything they did during the day. Whenever they embellished the details of their day, he'd always look at you and see you holding in a laugh while trying to put on a serious face and play along with their stories.

"Father, I swear! Lightbringer actually talked out loud today, truly!" Your son proclaimed.

"What did he have to say?"

"He told me that he thinks I'm ready to ride, and you should probably start giving me flying lessons."

"You're not big enough to fly yet, maybe if you ate your vegetables so you could grow, you'd be in the air by now," Aemond said.

"Well, I guess I'll never be flying then."

Aemond sat up and asked, "Do you know how I lost my eye?"

"No.." Your son said hesitantly. Aemond had never opened up to the kids about his eye before. They had only ever known him to have one eye and assumed it was normal for some people to be missing one.

Aemond replied with the straightest face, "I refused to eat my vegetables, and the muscles in my face turned weak, and one day it just fell out."

Your youngest son's face turned white from his father's confession while your middle son sat up in his chair beside him, "I thought you said you lost it because you rolled your eyes and complained too much during your High Valyrian lessons?"

All of your children's attention had now been captured.

"What are you talking about? It got cut out when a tail hit him because he didn't make sure to always check his surroundings while he was in the dragon pit, that's why he has the scar," your eldest son stated matter-of-factly.

Thank the gods the kids started fighting about something else, so he didn't have to explain how he somehow managed to lose his eye three different times.

The two of you watched as your toddler stood up on her seat so she could tell a story. She can't help that she makes big gestures with her hands while talking and always somehow manages to accidentally knock over someone's goblet. Standing up like she was giving an important speech was her solution to this dilemma.

She never ceased to be the most entertaining part of dinner. Your daughter slapped her brothers in the face whenever they wouldn't stop picking on her, and Aemond couldn't help but smile. He was the one that gave her that idea, and she never hesitated to put them in their place.

You were pregnant with your fifth child, and out of instinct, Aemond would rest his hand on your belly whenever he wasn't eating. He'd sit there content after dinner, listening to everyone's conversations, and his mind couldn't help but drift off sometimes.

Aemond never got to eat dinner with his father and liked to imagine this is what it could have been like. He loved how his kids felt so comfortable around him that they had no reservations about sharing all their thoughts. Kids were never something he thought too much about. He never imagined he'd enjoy being a father this much, let alone look forward to being surrounded by his children at the end of a long day.

It felt overwhelming at first, having people who loved him unconditionally and looked up to him. He spent most of his life seeking the approval of his parents, and it felt strange that he was in that position now, being in charge of making little humans that loved him so much feel worthy and enough. Aemond saw the way his mother always yelled and hit Aegon, and now that he was a parent himself, he couldn't help but wonder if that's why he turned out to be such a sad person. He would never hurt his own kids, the thought of even raising his voice at them made him feel guilty.

He came back to reality when he saw your daughter wiggling around, dancing with a knife in her hand that she had just used to cut herself a slice of cake, and her brothers yelling at her to put it down.

Aemond let out a chuckle while watching the scene in front of him. Having kids changed him more than he had ever expected. He had never been too close to Aegon, Helaena liked to be left alone with her bugs, and Daeron was away. The camaraderie that came with having siblings was something he never really had the chance to experience.

Watching his children fight like animals between each other but be ready to kill someone that ever hurt one of them, forced him to put a lot of his past into perspective. Too many of Aemond's years were wasted carrying resentment towards Lucerys. He knew if his children were in the position of watching their brother or sister being hurt, they would've done the same exact thing that Lucerys did.

He wished his forgiveness and understanding had come earlier in life, before things were too late to fix. Aemond's kids wouldn't be like him, though. He'd teach them about forgiveness, not judging people too harshly, and trying to see things from other people's points of view. He would try his hardest to pass on his wisdom and be a father worthy of their innocent love.

[strawberryforks]

concussed // adrien agreste x reader

summary: falling in love with your best friend in and out of the suit goes a little like this…

warnings: head injury, akumas

word count: 1126

a/n: requests/asks are open & encouraged!

you’re not supposed to fall in love with you best friend—it’s a universal rule. sure, sometimes you hear about the success stories. childhood friends to lovers is a trope and a popular one. books are written, movies are made, and who doesn’t love them? the problem is: it’s fiction. it’s all just fiction. in reality—your reality at least—you fall in love with your best friend and you’re screwed. it becomes the world’s best kept secret because you’re not the only one crushing on your best friend, adrien agrest, model and son of the designer gabriel agreste and you’ll be damned if you ruin the friendship.

something you never expected was that your best friend felt the same. and because you didn’t expect it, you couldn’t accept it. anything remotely romantic adrien did, you rationalized.

his leg brushed up against yours? coincidence.

he brought you chocolates? he was your best friend, he knew you liked chocolate.

one night, he changed strategies. although it was unconsciously...

mid-akuma battle chat noir was injured. it was bad enough he couldn’t keep doing his job. he wasn’t helping ladybug, only endangering her further and he couldn’t bare it. with his heartbeat feeling like it was in his head; like a drum smashing against his skull loudly and painfully, he barely managed to perch (he would’ve said purrch had he not been so dizzy) on your windowsill. chat noir tapped on the window pane. it was late but you couldn’t sleep. dark, but you cradled your phone, watching for updates on the latest akuma attacks. when something knocked against your window you jumped up. you grabbed the baseball bat propped up against your closet door and hesitantly approached the window. when you opened it a body fell at your feet. you raised the bat above you head and then you saw a tail… “chat noir!?”

“hey… y/n. sorry for dropping in i think i used a few of my nine lives.”

“how do you know my—you know what, that doesn’t matter! are you okay? what happened?” you asked but before he could answer, you continued rambling. “well i saw the footage on the ladyblog but! just stay here, i’ll… i’ll go get the ice.”

the leather clad hero rolled over, gloved hand over his eyes as he groaned. “oh god, no. here,” you help him up onto your bed and gently push him back into the pile of pillows. “stay here. i’ll be right back.”

“sure thing purrincess,”

“i was hoping you were so concussed you’d forget the puns.” you say on your way out.

your mom asks you what’s going on, and you tug down your pant-leg, revealing a bruise on your knee from the day before yesterday when you fell up the stairs. “just grabbing some ice and then i’m heading to bed.”

“alright hun. sleep well.”

you go to leave and she stops you. “tomorrow you and adrien are meeting up for icecream and i’m assuming you’ll be coming back here to game for awhile. that’s fine, just remember to leave your door open.”

you smile, nod, and head back to your room. you’ve got a large ice pack that you pass to him and after opening your drawer, you pass him two ibuprofen. “i don’t know if those work for superheroes, but here’s hoping.”

“thank you.”

“you don’t have to thank me, chat. you’re the hero here. you owe the citizens of paris nothing and we owe you everything. i won’t lie, i’m pretty confused about how you know my name and well… where i live but… i won’t push.”

“lb’s always saying how important our identities are but you’re my friend and—“

you press your hand over his lips, mind working at a million miles a minute. you shush the feline hero and move some of the blonde hair out of his eyes. his green eyes. “get some rest, i’m going to use the bathroom!”

you all but sprint to the washroom. hands braces on the counter you breathe deeply and splash water into your face. you weren’t ready for this kind of relevation—that adrien, your adrien, was chat noir. the chat noir. part of paris's hero duo.

its fine. it’s okay. it’s perfect, actually. you’re freaking out a bit but he’s still the same person. your panic ceases when you realize this is a good thing. him being in danger constantly is terrifying but him having a way to avoid his father that doesn’t involve you being his one and only saving grace lifts a weight off of your shoulders.

with your composure back, you go out there. thank every ethereal force there is, because he’s fast asleep.

you debate taking the floor but it’s adrien. it’s adrien, and you two have shared a bed before, is what you remind yourself when you crawl in next to him and hike the comforter up to your neck.

when you wake up your alone in your bed and your window is open just a crack.

that night, chat stops by again. he brings you “thank you” flowers and some cookies ladybug—who’s a strangely awesome baker—made, to share with you.

“adrien! hey! i missed you.” you didn’t miss him that much, you’d seen him yesterday. you just missed being able to know him, talk about any and everything, and see all of his face. not the mask wasn’t flattering, you best believe it was, just you loved being able to see all of him. to adrien, knowing you knew all of him too? the pieces of him that made him chat noir too. it would be everything. you know how much it’d mean to him and knew that keeping tbis secret must’ve been killing him. you were a big ladybug fan, but a bigger chat noir fan (bigger your-best-friend fan) and if ladybug was the one who was making him keep this secret? well, it’s not like you could do much but unsubribe from the ladyblog. and if adrien was the one wanting to keep his identity secret? you don’t know what you’d do—whatever reveal you go with will suddenly suck.

“thank you natalie,” you say when she opens the gate and lets adrien out without forcing his bodyguard to tag along.

you get your icecream and when you’re given a cone thats black with green icecream and a paw print and he receives an icecream that matches you perfectly. adrien’s hand falls to the back of his neck “well this is awkward…”

you grin, “is it really?”

“what do you mean?”

“well—you uh, hit your head pretty hard, that’s all. and uhm, said some stuff. basicallyiknowyou’rechatnoirandit’sokaybecauseiloveyou.”

“you love me?” he echoes.

“i do, and have for awhile. i love all of you.”

“i love you too. but that doesn’t mean i’ll go easy on you when we play ultimate mecha strike 3!”

“wouldn’t dream of it!”

[atierrorian]

The Tale of the Dragon and the Outsider

Context: You tell the tale to your kids of your story with Malleus.

tw: none! Just pure fluff! you and Malleus already graduated, reader is Yuu, some grammar mistakes

characters: Malleus, some mentions about Lilia

note: The reader is female so I'm sorry for the males and other genders but you can still imagine your gender! And you can imagine any name for the kids! I just put the names for references.

Word count: 1.7k

You miss some of the good old days back when you were still a student at Night Raven College. You remember when you were still new to the world, not knowing anything about the world you live in now. And it was all because of your curiosity about that mirror.

But if you had to be honest, you were kinda glad that your curiosity led you to this world, but you still wonder what happened to your family and friends, did they even bother to try and search for you? Or did they just give up on you? Did they already thought you were dead? I mean it has been years since you were in this world, so most likely yeah, but you do kinda wish you get to see them one more time.

You sat at the end of the bed while your hands were on your lap as you thought, coming into this world was most likely the best thing that could ever happen to you, and although you do miss your family and wish they could be here, they weren't, but you do wish that they were here to see the family you have now.

As you continued thinking, you suddenly felt a hand tugged on your sleeve trying to get your attention, you looked at where it was coming from and saw your little one trying to get your attention.

"Hm? Oh yes, Rae? What is it?" You asked the little girl who was tugging on your sleeve who successfully managed to get your attention.

"Um mama, I was wondering if you could tell us the story of you and Papa's story! Like how you two met and how it went on." The little girl said who looked excited to hear the tale of you and Papa's love story.

You looked at her, curious on why she was suddenly interested, wait, did she just say "us"?

You looked in front of you to see 2 more kids who shyly looked away, most likely embarrassed but also curious on how you and Malleus had met.

You softly chuckled at your 3 kids, they were so cute! And they took more on their dad, well Rae, the youngest, took more on you. The three kids looked at you, wondering why you started chuckling at them and that made them more flustered and embarrassed.

"Why are you all so suddenly interested in me and your papa's story?" You said while you softly smiled at the kids, Rae who climbed the bed hugged your arm said nothing as the two kids knew they would be the one talking.

"Well we heard from Lilia on how interesting your guy's story was and we got curious.." Your eldest son, Marcella said and looked like he was kinda regretting asking.

You smiled at your eldest son who tried to look away and hide away his flustered face as your middle child, Mika, tried to push Marcella towards you, wanting to hear the tale.

"Why didn't you three just asked Lilia then? You guys heard it from him on how interesting our tale was anyways." You said as you looked at the kids.

Your youngest, Rae, looked at you and shook her head.

"We wanted to hear it from you mama! We love Lilia's stories but we wanted to hear it from you!" Rae said with excitement in her says and a smile on her face. How could you say no that?

You sighed but nodded your head and told the kids to sit down on the carpet so that they can listen to the story you were about to tell them.

All of them did what you told them to and sat down on the carpet, Rae quickly let go of your arm and climbed down on the bed and also sat down on the carpet next to Marcella.

All of them looked so excited and you could practically see sparkles and excitement in their eyes as they all waited for you to start the story.

You cleared your throat and started the story.

"This is the story of "The Tale of the Dragon and the Outsider". Once upon a time"

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There was once a lonely boy, the lonely boy's name was Malleus Draconia, just hearing the name, the people would shake in fear. But the boy did not like that, all he wanted was a friend, a friend who would accept him and would not be afraid of him.

But at last, a wishful thinking seemed only to be in a dream. A dream who he thought would never come true no matter how many years or centuries had pass. And so the boy continued to live in solitude for centuries.

Of course, he had his retainers and caretaker, but that was their job, they were there to protect him and the caretaker was there to care for him, he loved them dearly, but he really wanted a friend who did not have a role to care for him, a friend he would make on his own.

But even then, the boy held hope as he waited, and waited, and waited and kept dreaming of the day he would finally have a friend of his own, a friend who would always be there for him, a friend who would not be afraid of him.

But as time went on, the boy felt like losing his hope on such wishful thinking, but he wanted to believe that there would be someone, anyone, that would be willing to be his friend.

And then, his wish really did came true, the dream he had, became an reality. And he couldn't be more grateful that he had waited for so long, for the day he would have a friend.

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A magicless human she was, who came from another world from her curiosity. She didn't know anything about this world, or how laws work in the world she was in. She was defenseless in the new world.

But she made friends along her journey in the new world, she met many new people, she made friends, helped others, and most of all, made a dream come true.

She was the prefect of the abandoned dorm of Ramshackle, where she has met a lonely boy on his nightly walks. The girl didn't know who he was and treated him like any other should be treated.

The boy was surprised but happy that someone new was finally talking to him without trembling in fear just of the sight of him. It was truly pitiful, but could you blame him?

The girl asked for the boy's name who simply said that he would later tell her his name later on, so the girl decided to give him the nickname "Tsunotarou" which meant hornton because of his horns, the boy was surprised at the nickname but lightly laughed. The boy then called the girl "Child of man", quite fitting no?

But before the the two could talk anymore further, he heard his retainers in the distance, and so he bid his farewell to the girl and disappeared, leaving only fireflies in his path.

The girl was surprise but was excited for their next meeting together.

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"Oooo! And then what happens next?" Rae asked excitedly, she seemed really intrigued by the story so far and so did Marcella and Mika as all three of them leaned in to hear more.

You lightly chuckled and told them to be patient.

"Now now, just wait little ones, were getting to that now!" You said and clasped your hand, you adored your children so so much!

All of the three kids nodded and waited for you to resume the story.

You cleared your throat and continued.

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The two continued meeting with one another in the night and got to know more about each other over those meetings with each other. Although those meetings were only for a moment, the two really did got to know each other more and more.

But, girl always wished to know the boy's name but the boy had refused, always saying that he'll tell her his name once he felt like it.

Despite the girl's curiosity, she respected the boy and said she'll wait for how long he'll make her wait for that day.

And so the two continued meeting with one another as they both basked in each other's companies, the two had enjoy their time with one another and had even fallen in love with one another.

Although the girl was a human and the boy was a fae, it did not stop the two from seeing each other. And loving one another.

The girl thought that it was impossible for the boy to be with her since he was the heir to the Briar Valley and she was a human, a mortal. And why would he love someone like her?

But the boy was very determined to make the girl see his feelings for her, whether she was a human or fae or any other creature, he would always love her.

For the girl had always showed kindness and compassion to the fae even after knowing his real name. Malleus Draconia.

And for that, the boy knew, she was the one.

The boy had asked for the girl to meet with him at the same spot the two had met, and the girl agreed. And there, the boy had confessed his love for the girl who had accepted his confession.

And now years later, the couple had graduated and married and now have 3 three kids with each other whom they very much love dearly and will always love each other until the very end.

The end.

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You realized the ending was quite lazy, but you didn't know what else to add if you were being honest (Totally not saying this because I also got lazy and didn't have any ideas) but you thought it was a pretty good story for your kids.

Speaking of the kids, all three of them looked in awe and were very happy to hear the tale of you and Malleus. They were just sooo cute!!

The kids then see a figure by the door.

"Papa!" All of them yelled as they ran to their papa.

"Ah hello Tsunotarou! How long have you been listening?" You said as Malleus hugged his kids.

"Ever since the beginning, my love" He said and smiled as the kids were asking him some questions.

You smiled and laughed at the scene as Malleus answered all of their questions.

You were glad you were able to tell the tale to your kids of The Tale of the Dragon and the Outsider.

I hope you guys enjoy this fanfic! This took quite awhile and has been in my drafts for as long as I can remember now so! But I do hope you guys did enjoy this, more content will be release soon!