#But I have seen him grown. I have grown with him. He has taught me a lot and even if he will never know me-

[zayne-li]

Zayne: Exclusive Tutorial.

Cross posted on AO3

This is just 2k words of Zayne getting a handjob from MC. Some light dom/sub implications. Explicit.

I start by lightly poking his face with the pool cue. His reaction is all I need to continue. 

"This is inappropriate." He says, but he's smiling, and there's a glint in his eyes. 

I smile back. "Yes... But I think you enjoy it, too." I poke his cheek again and then whack him in the chest with the cue. It's not the greatest implement, or the one I would normally use, but the way he takes in a sharp breath tells me everything I need to know: Zayne, apparently, likes being hit. I am more than willing to oblige. 

"I shouldn't have taught you so much." He says, and it makes me laugh. The double entendre is so easily there that I smack him again, this time on the other side of his chest, and he can't seem to hold back the soft grunt he makes in reaction to it. 

"What? That you like being at my mercy?" I respond, and push his chin upwards with the pool cue, forcing him to lay down further on the table. He looks down between us, and his ears are turning pink. "I already knew that."

"Are you going to let me up?" He asks, through his dilated pupils and the smug smirk on his face. 

"No. I think I've had enough lessons today."

"I knew it. You don't care at all about learning how to play the game."

"All I really care about is learning how to get you so willing like you are now. What is it? Is it me holding a stick like this?"

He smiles, and tries to shift upwards onto his elbows, but I push the cue into the underside of his chin to stop him until he gives up, remaining in his place on the pool table. His Adams apple bobs, and his eyes shift downwards, to where my hand holds the cue.

"It is, isn't it?" I say, and my smile is heard as well as seen. 

I hit him again in the chest, harder this time, just by a bit, and then hold the pool cue to his throat, threateningly. His breath catches, and his pupils go wide as he meets my eyes again.

I lean closer, and my smugness isn't hard to see. His hand comes to rest on my waist, though he doesn't even seem like he completely realizes that he's doing it. 

Zayne grabs the other end of the cue, pushing it aside as he sits up, his thighs flexing where I stand between them. There's heat in his eyes, and it's growing. "I don't believe this is the proper place for this type of lesson." He says, and his voice has grown deeper. It's my turn to blush as he holds my waist tighter, and pulls me closer to him, the heat of his body almost suffocating as our lower halves press together. His erection is clearly felt as I look down at the crotch of his pants, like he's trying to tell me without words, "See this? See what you do to me?"

When I meet his eyes again I find that it's my turn to become breathless, entranced by his beauty, by the way his lips are barely parted, by the rise and fall of his chest, grown heavier. 

"I've barely done anything to you and you're already so desperate for me, aren't you?" I murmur, the pool cue laying forgotten on the table when I reach up, placing my hands on his chest and then trailing one up to his tie, pulling it further. He follows me automatically, until our noses brush, and his eyes flutter shut, long lashes casting a shadow over his cheeks. 

"I'm always desperate for you." He rumbles, and tilts his head to kiss me, gentle at first, but when I open my mouth and nip at his bottom lip, he kisses me harder, a soft sound of pleasure trapped in his throat. I respond in kind, curling one hand around the back of his neck to keep him where he is so I can lick into his mouth. Between us, I bring the other down to the fly of his trousers, rubbing my palm across the bulge that's beginning to strain against the zipper. 

He groans into my mouth and when our feverish kiss breaks, he's dusted lightly pink, his lips wet and shining with my spit. It never ceases to amaze me how I can take apart Zayne so easily, how he melts against me. If he could, he would give me the entire world. He doesn't often say it, but the way his eyes shine when he looks at me is enough to know the depths of his devotion. Really, that's what makes my heart race more than anything, but the sight of him beneath me like this doesn't help.

I press down harder on his cock, hidden away still, and then let him go long enough to reach for his belt. Zayne makes a small sound, air whistling through his nose as he watches. "Please..." He says, and it's so soft, so full of want, that my core heats almost instantly, the force of my own sudden arousal shooting straight down my spine. 

"Please what?" I respond, tugging on the end of his leather belt, forcing his hips to follow, and he raises them slightly from where he's sitting. "You'll have to be more specific." My smile is impish, and Zayne huffs out a small chuckle, his eyes flickering up to my own for a short moment. 

"Please..." He holds my gaze, drawing me in. Like this, he's magnetic, and I don't think I'm capable of refusing him anything. "Touch me." 

I feel myself clench, pulsing around nothing, and his smug expression grows, brows quirking as he catches some shift in my face that I'm not aware of. 

Once his belt is open, I tug down his zipper, and can feel his cock jump through his black briefs, coming into contact with my knuckles. My other hand splays across his broad chest, the satin of his vest warm underneath my fingers. 

"Aren't you worried someone will walk in?" My voice is soft.

"This is a private room." He answers, and tilts his head slightly, reaching up to tuck some of my hair back, his eyes following the movement of his touch, lingering on my jaw. I'm not sure if he can feel the tremors that go through me from that alone. 

"Oh, so you planned this, then? And you said that I was acting inappropriate." I scoff, and he groans when I reach inside his underwear, running my fingers over the smooth skin just at the base of his cock. I can feel it twitch again, though I haven't properly touched it once. "You even shaved." 

I pull him out and feel his thighs tense around me again, his breath catching as I wrap my hand around him, stroking once and squeezing my fingers around his tip. 

"I didn't, hah, plan this... But I had a feeling... Mmm..." Zayne almost sags, his mouth dropping open as he looks down at himself, watching me stroke him languidly. 

"It's a good thing you did get a private room, then... You're not very quiet, you know?" I smile, and increase the pace of my hand. His face is almost as red as the blushing tip of his cock, and he shifts on the pool table, holding himself up with one arm. 

"Neither are you." He retorts, amused, and the way his head tilts back invites me to lean in and kiss his neck. His dick jumps twice when I graze my teeth along his pretty throat, threatening to bite down. "No marks, please... I have, mmm... work tomorrow."

"You always have work tomorrow." I complain, and bite softly anyway. If I wasn't this close to him, I don't think I'd have been able to hear the tiny whine that leaves him. 

"Be that--" He's cut off when my teeth turn their attention to one of his pink ears, choking, and I get my first good moan from him for my efforts. 

"Yeah, yeah, you have a reputation to uphold. I know." I finish for him and he moans again when I dig my thumb into the slit of his cock, letting go to bring it up to his mouth. Zayne's tongue darts out to lick away the precum gathered there, and I have to squeeze my legs together as I feel a sudden wetness between them, shocked at myself for how hot I find it to watch him taste himself so readily. 

"Please, I want to be inside you, I won't..." Zayne grunts as I start to stroke him again, my movements growing faster, more insistent. "I won't, hah... Last much longer if you keep doing that."

I stop only long enough to reach back into his underwear, to fondle his balls, feeling how they tighten, drawing closer to his body. He's not lying, and I consider him for a moment, then pull once more on his tie. This time he really does whine, and his gaze pleads for mercy. 

"And what if I want you to come from just my hand this time? You're really cute when you let me play with you like this."

"Fuck..." The curse is soft from his lips, and Zayne's hips shift, pushing up into my hand as I start to jerk him off again, rising to meet my downward strokes. "I'm close..." He warns, a long groan vibrating through his chest as he starts to chase his release in earnest. I lean in, and lick a long stripe up his throat. 

Zayne's breath shudders as he exhales, and his body tenses, pushing up into my hand and I feel him pulse, his cock jumping once, twice, three times, and the sound he makes goes straight between my legs, his hand tight on my waist as he comes. His orgasm is long, his spend drips all over my fingers while I work him through it, squeezing and twisting the head of his cock while his body goes tense and jerks beneath me, his legs almost wrapping around me, holding me to him. 

Zayne is not quiet, and I play with his cock until he lets out a whimper from overstimulation, grabbing my wrist to force me to stop my assault on his poor erection. His chest heaves, and he grimaces at the mess between us, his pristine silk waistcoat obviously stained by his own come, stark against the black fabric. 

There's nowhere to wipe my hand, so I bring it up to my mouth and lick away the remnants of his release. Zayne's eyes go wide, pupils blown out as he watches me, making an almost surprised little grunt. 

I grin at him and lean in for a soft kiss. "Did you know that you whimper when you come?" I ask against his lips, pulling him closer by his hips. His softening cock droops between us, and I admire for a moment the lewd image of him exposed, messy, his tie undone and his face red. 

"I do not." Zayne scoffs, and I allow him to finally stand, backing off enough to let him tuck himself into his pants, though I mourn the sight. 

"You do. You just did." I fold my arms, and he gives me a withering look. 

"Well, when you come, you sound like a dying bear. Did you know that?" Zayne retorts, and I gasp in shocked horror, shoving him in the shoulder. He doesn't look apologetic, his lips curling into a smile, and he chuckles. 

"You take that back right now!" 

"No. Now do you have any interest in learning how to play pool, or would you like me to return the favor?"

"Hmm... I think I'd rather see you on your knees for me."

"Oh, would you?" His brows quirk, and he looks me up and down like he's trying to hold himself back. "I suppose I'd be willing to indulge you. We still have a half hour left before our reservation is up."

#lads zayne #love and deepspace #zayne x you #zayne x reader #zayne

[sharkylad]

ILL MISS YOU MATPAT

Please, enjoy spending time with your family and spreading your wings. You've more then earned it

#its 2am AND I AM HYPER EMOTIONAL #I NEVER THOUGHT ID BE THIS EMOTIONAL OVER A YOUTUBER GOODBYE #HES BEEN WITH ME SINCE I WAS 12 MAN WHAT THE FUCK #I fucking love that man. Always have. Such an incredible individual and even when he fails he tries his best #I hate that I gotta clerify- But not parasocially of course. #I mean. #I love him more then I can love a stranger but less then I can love a friend but not by much- you know #? #The connection between content creator and viewer doesnt HAVE do be deep- But I am tired of pretending you have to distance yourself #Dont invade their privacy and dont feel entitled to thejr time and attention by any means- #Youre not entitled to shit- I am not entitled to Mat staying just cause Im attached #But I have seen him grown. I have grown with him. He has taught me a lot and even if he will never know me- #I should be allowed to care for the man and his family. #I love them all and wish them everything good that has come their way #I hope they have a good rest and nothing but love and smiles in their future #The Game Theorists #One of many and he will be deeply missed

[inhonoredglory]

Aziraphale’s Choice, the Job Connection, and Michael Sheen’s Morality

Update: Michael Sheen liked this post on Twitter, so I'm fairly certain there is a lot of validity to it.

I’ve had time to process Aziraphale’s choice at the end of Season 2. And I think only blaming the religious trauma misses something important in Aziraphale’s character. I think what happened was also Aziraphale’s own conscious choice––as a growth from his trauma, in fact. Hear me out.

Since November 2022 I’ve been haunted by something Michael Sheen said at the MCM London Comic Con. At the Q&A, someone asked him about which fantasy creature he enjoyed playing most and Michael (bless him, truly) veered on a tangent about angels and goodness and how, specifically,

We as a society tend to sort of undervalue goodness. It’s sort of seen as sort of somehow weak and a bit nimby and “oh it’s nice.” And I think to be good takes enormous reserves of courage and stamina. I mean, you have to look the dark in the face to be truly good and to be truly of the light…. The idea that goodness is somehow lesser and less interesting and not as kind of muscular and as passionate and as fierce as evil somehow and darkness, I think is nonsense. The idea of being able to portray an angel, a being of love. I love seeing the things people have put online about angels being ferocious creatures, and I love that. I think that’s a really good representation of what goodness can be, what it should be, I suppose.

I was looking forward to BAMF!Aziraphale all season long, and I think that’s what we got in the end. Remember Neil said that the Job minisode was important for Aziraphale’s story. Remember how Aziraphale sat on that rock and reconciled to himself that he MUST go to Hell, because he lied and thwarted the will of God. He believed that––truly, honestly, with the faith of a child, but the bravery of a soldier.

Aziraphale, a being of love with more goodness than all of Heaven combined, believed he needed to walk through the Gates of Hell because it was the Right Thing to do. (Like Job, he didn’t understand his sin but believed he needed to sacrifice his happiness to do the Right Thing.)

That’s why we saw Aziraphale as a soldier this season: the bookshop battle, the halo. But yes, the ending as well.

Because Aziraphale never wanted to go to Heaven, and he never wanted to go there without Crowley.

But it was Crowley who taught him that he could, even SHOULD, act when his moral heart told him something was wrong. While Crowley was willing to run away and let the world burn, it was Aziraphale (in that bandstand at the end of the world) who stood his ground and said No. We can make a difference. We can save everyone.

And Aziraphale knew he could not give up the ace up his sleeve (his position as an angel) to talk to God and make them see the truth in his heart.

I was messed up by Ineffable Bureaucracy (Boxfly) getting their happy ending when our Ineffable Husbands didn’t, but I see now that them running away served to prove something to Aziraphale. (And I am fully convinced that Gabriel and Beelzebub saw the example of the Ineffables at the Not-pocalypse and took inspiration from them for choosing to ditch their respective sides)

But my point is that Aziraphale saw them, and in some ways, they looked like him and Crowley. And he saw how Gabriel, the biggest bully in Heaven, was also like him in a way (a being capable of love) and also just a child when he wasn’t influenced by the poison of Heaven. Muriel, too, wasn’t a bad person. The Metatron also seemed to have grown more flexible with his morality (from Aziraphale's perspective). Like Earth, Heaven was shades of (light?) gray.

Aziraphale is too good an angel not to believe in hope. Or forgiveness (something he’s very good at it).

Aziraphale has been scarred by Heaven all his life. But with the cracks in Heaven’s armor (cracks he and Crowley helped create), Aziraphale is seeing something else. A chance to change them. They did terrible things to him, but he is better than them, and because of Crowley, he feels ready to face them.

(Will it work? Can Heaven change, institutionally? Probably not, but I can't blame Aziraphale for trying.)

At the cafe, the Metatron said something big was coming in the Great Plan. Aziraphale knows how trapped he had felt when he didn’t have God’s ear the first time something huge happened in the Big Plan. He can’t take a chance again to risk the world by not having a foot in the door of Heaven. That’s why we saw individual human deaths (or the threat of death) so much more this season: Elspeth, Wee Morag, Job’s children, the 1940s magician. Aziraphale almost killed a child when he couldn’t get through to God, and he’s not going through that again.

“We could make a difference.” We could save everyone.

Remember what Michael Sheen said about courage and doing good––and having to “look the dark in the face to be truly good.” That’s what happened when Aziraphale was willing to go to Hell for his actions. That’s what happened when he decided he had to go to Heaven, where he had been abused and belittled and made to feel small. He decided to willingly go into the Lion’s Den, to face his abusers and his anxiety, to make them better so that they would not try to destroy the world again.

Him, just one angel. He needed Crowley to be there with him, to help him be brave, to ask the questions that Heaven needed to hear, to tell them God was wrong. Crowley is the inspiration that drives Aziraphale’s change, Crowley is the engine that fuels Aziraphale’s courage.

But then Crowley tells him that going to Heaven is stupid. That they don’t need Heaven. And he’s right. Aziraphale knows he’s right.

Aziraphale doesn’t need Heaven; Heaven needs him. They just don’t know how much they need him, or how much humanity needs him there, too. (If everyone who ran for office was corrupt, how can the system change?)

Terry Pratchett (in the Discworld book, Small Gods) is scathing of God, organized religion, and the corrupt people religion empowers, but he is sympathetic to the individual who has real, pure faith and a good heart. In fact, the everyman protagonist of Small Gods is a better person than the god he serves, and in the end, he ends up changing the church to be better, more open-minded, and more humanist than god could ever do alone.

Aziraphale is willing to go to the darkest places to do the Right Thing, and Heaven is no exception. When Crowley says that Heaven is toxic, that’s exactly why Aziraphale knows he needs to go there. “You’re exactly is different from my exactly.”

____

In the aftermath of Trump's election in the US, Brexit happened in 2018. Michael Sheen felt compelled to figure out what was going on in his country after this shock. But he was living in Los Angeles with Sarah Silverman at the time, and she also wanted to become more politically active in the US.

Sheen: “I felt a responsibility to do something, but it [meant] coming back [to Britain] – which was difficult for us, because we were very important to each other. But we both acknowledge that each of us had to do what we needed to do.” In the end, they split up and Michael moved back to the UK.

Sometimes doing the Right Thing means sacrificing your own happiness. Sometimes it means going to Hell. Sometimes it means going to Heaven. Sometimes it means losing a relationship.

And that’s why what happened in the end was so difficult for Aziraphale. Because he loves Crowley desperately. He wants to be together. He wanted that kiss for thousands of years. He knows that taking command of Heaven means they would never again have to bow to the demands of a God they couldn’t understand, or run from a Hell who still came after them. They could change the rules of the game.

And he’s still going to do that. But it hurts him that he has to do that alone.

#good omens #good omens 2 #ineffable husbands #it's kinda like capt america: civil war #with Azi as Tony Stark: traumatized and trying to do the right thing #and Crowley being Steve Rogers: fuck the establishment let's go rogue #gos2spoilers #good omens meta #good omens 2 meta #go s2 #michael sheen #go s2 meta #go meta #*mine #*mymeta #ineffables husbands #ineffable soulmates #*mybest

[ohdeersthings]

Listen

Ao'nung x F!Deaf!Metkayina!Reader

Summary: Ao'nung has loved you since childhood.

Warning: Fluff, Ao'nung is a jerk to everyone but reader, some angst (I love emotional revelation of feelings), characters are aged up 18+ but no warnings here! Ronal ships reader and Ao'nung,

Note: was a request from @keyratch hope you enjoy it!

~.~

Growing up, you always knew you were different. You couldn't hear the ocean waves, couldn't listen to the music of your clan for celebrations. You couldn't even harmonize with your mother as she sings to lull you to sleep.

Being born deaf, your parents tried so hard to pray to Eywa for a sign. The Tsahìk, Ronal, tried every herb and technique she knew, but nothing could change who you were.

What Eywa had decided for you to be.

You never blamed Eywa though, for the Great Mother had blessed you to feel a connection to her. You could feel her in the sand; the warmth of the sun that she blessed you with, the coolness of the ocean as you swam to admire the creatures she's created.

Even as a small child you had been drawn to the beauty of the Pandora.

The smallest sea shells you would collect and braid into your hair, stringing some together to make a necklace, bracelet, or head peice. The brightest floral you would gather to present to friends and family, just because the beauty of them made you think of others.

Ao'nung had only been eight when he met you for the first time. While training with his father on spear throwing he had caught sight of you collecting sea shells.

He was so distracted by you, he grabbed the spear wrong and cut his finger. Letting out a small hiss of pain, he instantly sucked on it, causing his father to gaze at him and then at you. Tonowari couldn't help but chuckle, "I see the silent beauty has caught your eye," Ao'nung was confused by his father's words, but quickly denied having even spotted you.

"Well that's too bad, because here she comes right now," sure enough you had seen the leader with his son, Ao'nung and had started over in their direction when you saw the big was hurt.

Ao'nung could only feel himself freeze as you closed the distance fast, suddenly reaching out to grab his hand as he tried to back away,

"H-hey! What are you doing?!" Ao'nung flinched as you pressed on his finger, the one he'd cut being too caught up looking at you. You never said anything, just brought out a healing leaf from your hip pouch and wrapped his finger quickly and efficiently.

"Thank you," he mumbled, you smiled and let go of his hand, signing to him, 'Would you like to play after training?' It had puzzled him why you didn't just ask out loud, but after looking to his father for assurance, he nodded to you causing you to smile and nod, turning back the way you'd come and headed away.

"Father, why didn't she just ask me?" Ao'nung questioned, looking up at Tomowari who smiled sadly at him, "she is deaf my son, she cannot speak for she never learned how, she cannot hear you," Ao'nung didn't feel any different towards you, maybe more curious, but he never felt like you were weird.

~.~

After that day many years ago, Ao'nung had grown, and so did his love for you. What started out as amazement and adoration as children, had since grown into feeling as if you were the only one for him.

The way you helped his sister with day to day chores, such grace and beauty weaving baskets and collecting herbs for his mother. The complete definition of selfless as you taught the children of the clan their sign, who else but you with your patience and grace.

The tingles you left on his body when you would tap his hand, shoulder, arm, anything to get his attention. You left him yearning for your attention day and night. Left him in agonizing pain at the thought of having you with him under the stars but couldn't.

Yourself however, would be a prize to any fine young Na'vi, but to your own self image you were at the bottom of the food chain. Your biggest insecurity being your deafness. You would never hear your mates words of love and comfort, would never hear the giggles of your own future children should Great Mother bless you with any.

You never had anyone express interest in you, although Ao'nung made sure of that, not that you knew. He always glared, growled or warned any man who looked in your direction. He made sure to linger a hand on your waist while talking, a smug look over his shoulder at the hunters who had tried to talk to you, a smirk at the Ilu keepers who tried to get to close.

When the Sullys had arrived, you had been busy helping Ronal with her duties as she was trusting you to take over while she got ready to give birth.

You didn't get to see Tsireya and Ao'nung as often as they were busy with teaching the new comers the traditions and expectations of the clan.

'(Y/N) go fetch Ao'nung, he should be down on the beach,' Ronal requested, you nodded, standing from your sitting position and heading out of the Marui, starting your trek to the beach.

You had found a few flowers on your way, taking a moment to pluck them from the ground and arranged them nicely. Maybe Ao'nung would like something to help brighten his mood.

Stopping once you reached the beach, you felt your eyes widen in disbelief as Ao'nung and his friends were surrounding Kiri, pointing at her and laughing. Kiri was clearly uncomfortable and trying to walk away, luckily Lo'ak came and started to intercept the boys, only they turned their hateful ways onto him.

You felt your fists clench up, nervously twisting the flowers. You started walking in that direction, Neteyam showing up as well from beside you, making yourself known too.

Ao'nungs ears pressed back, his body feeling hot with embarrassment that you'd caught him being rude to someone.

"Oh look, big brother to the rescue-" Ao'nung reached his hand out, silencing his friend who bowed his head obediently. "I need you to respect my sister from now on," Neteyam threatened, his eyes glaring into Ao'nung who nodded, trying to ease the anxiety in his chest as you approached too.

You tapped Kiris hand, the girl turning to you as you looked her over, as she tried to calm you down, 'I'm fine, no harm done,' she assured, you face turning into one of doubt but giving up in the end.

The three siblings went to walk away, but Lo'ak suddenly turned around and went back to Ao'nung, his smirk and quirked eyebrow making you upset a little. Why was he acting this way? Was he really this mean to them?

Ao'nung didn't know what had happened when Lo'ak punched him, one second he was standing and the next on the floor with his friends helping him up. They all jumped Lo'ak who held his ground to the best of his abilities, but soon found his brother Neteyam jumping in to help him.

You gasped, hands covering your mouth in disbelief, the flowers falling into the sand forgotten. Why were they doing this? 'Kiri, we need to stop them' you told her, but even she could only look on in a mix of horror and laughter.

Deciding that enough was enough, you inserted yourself into the fight, Ao'nungs friends quickly backing away as you pulled them off.

Neteyam hadn't seen you enter the fight, when he felt his shoulder get touched he quickly turned and went to punch the person, barely being able to stop himself before he hit you.

You had flinched inward, arms raised quickly to protect yourself, eyes shut incase of pain. "(Y/N)!" Ao'nung threw himself to you, shoving Neteyam out of the way, his hands gently grabbing yours to bring them down.

You squeaked, the cutest sound Ao'nung had ever heard, and opened your eyes to see Ao'nung checking you for injuries despite his cheek being bruised and lip busted. His eyes held fear and worry, hands moving from your arms to gently hold your face.

An adult nearby had brought his father and Toruk Makto, but he didn't care for the shouts that were happening, he could only focus on you. He brought his hands into view, 'You okay?' Ao'nung questioned, though your face contorted into worry as you held his face, feeling bad when he flinched from your thumb brushing his cheek.

He grabbed your hand and held it at his side as he turned to Neteyam, "Don't you ever touch her again!" If it hadn't been for his father pulling him away with you in tow, he would've attacked the oldest sibling.

"Maybe don't start things your girlfriend tries to finish!" Lo'ak yelled back, getting dragged away by his own father.

Upon entering the Marui, his mother hit him upside the head, "skxqwng! You brought (Y/n) into this?! I pray for the resilience to not break your bones!" Ao'nung averted his mother and fathers gaze, his head down as he couldn't even look to you either. Ashamed you had caught him at his worst moment.

"I leave (Y/n) to take care of your wounds, Great Mother help you find some sense!" Ronal hissed, Tonowari leading her out of the Marui to give you two some privacy.

You slowly walked over, placing a hand on his arm, Ao'nung letting you lead him to the mat and both of you sitting down facing eachother.

'What were you thinking?' You inquired, waiting for his reply as you began to mix a paste together. 'I wasn't thinking, but they deserved it, freaks all of them' he huffed, sucking it back in when you roughly applied the paste to his cheek.

His eyes found yours as you stared at him with hurt, 'What does that make me then? I cannot hear, I cannot speak well, they can communicate freely, I have to look for eyes and attention,'

Ao'nung felt his throat constrict, his hands clamy. You were so beautiful in his eyes, but the way he treated them made you think ill of yourself and that's not want he wanted.

You looked down, eyes glossy from unshed tears. His hand on your chin made you look at him, your lip trembling as your ears pressed back.

Ao'nung let go and signed only one word, but it made your body erupt in flames.

'Beautiful'

~.~

Since the incident with the boys on the beach, Ao'nung tried to be kind in your presence when the sullys were around but when the opportunity to trick Lo'ak revealed itself, he couldn't help it.

When he returned though and found you looking at him with those eyes again. Eyes filled with pain and now disappointment, he knew had to do the right thing.

'I'm sorry,' he apologized, finding you alone by the beach later that night. You turned from him, arms crossed. You weren't going to look at him or reply.

He fell to his knees in front of you, grasping at your hands desperately. You huffed, eyes glaring into him. Ao'nung used to pray he would never see that day you gave him that look, but after what he'd done to Lo'ak he could say he deserved it.

Hands trailing from your hands down to your elbows, he slowly let go and began to speak, "I'm sorry, I know I've been stupid and they don't deserve that, I'm not sure what I was thinking," Ao'nung kept his eyes trained on yours, watching you look exhausted.

"Why risk the danger? What if he'd gotten hurt? Or worse, you," you felt your lips pull back in a snarl, though he could only find pleasure in the fierceness of your face. His heart beat fast knowing you cared about him.

"I wish you would think with this," you placed your hand on his chest, feeling his erratic heartbeat, "not with this," you playfully pushed his forehead, a smile appearing on your lips. You couldn't stay mad at him, not when he smiled at you as softly as he did now.

He grasped your hand, bringing it back to his chest. You felt your own speed up to match his, both of you filled with deep affection for one another, not that the other knew.

You both stared at eachother for what felt like hours, yet only a few minutes had passed, just enjoying eachothers company.

When you had broken out of your daydream however, you quickly pulled your hand away and stood up, eyes darting everywhere but him as you shakily signed, "we shouldn't be doing this, I have to go,"

Ao'nung couldn't stand fast enough when you pulled away, tripping over the sand as you ran. Everything had just been perfect, what had happened?

~.~

You helped Ronal to sit, her stomach slowly getting bigger as the days went on. "Baby is good?" You wondered, a grin on your face of excitement as she nodded, her own smile gracing her features.

'Baby is strong, maybe a boy like Ao'nung,' she replied, you nodding in agreement, 'Ao'nung differently is strong,'

'Yes, he will be a great Olo'eyktan, if only he hurry and choose his Tsahìk,' she let her eyes slip to your figure out of the corner of her sight, seeing you quickly look down and away. Not out of embarrassment it seemed, but out of disappointment.

Ronal frowned, she did not like seeing you so hurt, especially by her own child, lest he be stupid enough to do it.

Ronal placed her hand on your cheek, bringing your face back up to make eye contact with her, 'why do you look so sad? What has happened?'

You tried to brush her off, 'it's nothing, I'm sure whoever he chooses will make a lovely Tsahìk,' you began to ramble, hands moving quickly, 'Ney`ite is the best diver, Alyara is known to sing beautifully, from what I've seen and been told,'

'He deserves someone who can help him feel better on rough days, someone who can actually listen and help with his problems, who loves and cherishes him as he is,'

Ronal tapped your hand, causing you to heat up in realization, you'd been rambling for too long. 'Someone, like you?' She quirked her brow, a knowing smirk on her face.

You shook your head, eyes feeling glossy with tears, 'what do I have to offer him?' You felt a hiccup erupt in your throat from trying to hold in your sobs, 'I cannot listen to his problems, I cannot comfort our children with words when crying, no one would look to me, Eywa may love me as she created me, but surely Ao'nung loves another,'

Ronal felt her eyes catch the sight of a figure standing behind you. Ao'nung could only stand frozen as he saw what you thought of yourself. He's never loved anyone like he loves you, and it's his fault for making you think otherwise.

Ronal grasped your hands firmly, shaking her head at you. Ronal reached a hand for Ao'nung who walked over, his shadow startling you as you looked upwards, his face looking hurt by your own tears.

Ronal placed your hand in his, his fingers gripping your own softly but firm, like a silent promise to never let go.

The Tsahìk bowed in exiting the Marui, leaving both of you alone.

Ao'nung knelt to face you, your cheeks hot with humiliation that he had to see you like this. You tried to look elsewhere but he placed his hand on your cheek, turning your face towards him.

He let go, feeling a moment of Deja Vu as he thought back to two nights ago by the water. When you both had been just as close in the sand.

"You are not less than anyone here," he signed, feeling his heart excelerate with emotion.

'(Y/n), I don't need to hear your voice to know your words are strong and kind, I don't need your words of comfort when your touches are enough,' he placed your hand on his chest, just as he did those nights ago. He hoped you would feel his heart that's beating full of love for you.

You could only feel a bizarre rush of emotions, anger at yourself for letting Ao'nung find out this way, fear in what is to come, yet, love from knowing he felt the same as you did.

'I'm sorry you did not see yourself as adequate when you are more than I could ever dream, the love you hold for our clan speaks words where your lips may fail,'

You felt your lips quiver, tears falling down your face as you tried to hold yourself together.

'I see you, (Y/n), and I would love for you to become my Tsahìk, my mate,'

You laughed, 'I would love to spend my life with you, I see you, Ao'nung,' you pressed your forehead to his, his own tear or two slipping from his eye as you both enjoyed this moment of peace together.

He raised both hands to your face, cupping your head as he brought your lips to his, the soft, plush feeling of your lips nearly driving him mad with desire. Your own hand finding home on his chest and shoulder as you felt weak from lack of air.

Pulling away, you made him stand up with you, his eyes showing curiosity. You smirked at him, 'Wanna go somewhere more private?' Ao'nungs silence spoke for itself as he dragged you out of the Marui, right past his parents who had a sudden look of realization.

"Oh Great Mother," Ronal sighed exasperated, "Looks like our youngest will be close in age to our grandchild," Tonowari mumbled, flinching from Ronal who began to hit him from saying such words, "skxqwng!"

~.~

#avatar #avatar the way of water #avatar: the way of water #atwow fanfiction #atwow imagines #aonung x reader #aonung #ao'nung x reader #ao'nung #ao'nung x y/n #ao'nung x you #ao'nung x deaf reader #ao'nung x deafreader #aonung x deaf reader #aonung x deafreader #aonung x Metkayina #aonung x you #aonung x y/n #aonung x

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

miscellaneous fellow honest headcanons

These aren't following any prompt in particular, these are just thoughts I had when I saw the guy hammin' it up and then turning on us.

Some of these headcanons are informed by fan art I've seen and discussions I've had with friends, while others are purely me.

Curiouser and Curiouser...

He calls people “little lads” and “little ladies”.

Fellow has a very noticeable laugh. Like, he grunts and snorts and has tears rolling down his cheeks. (He tends to laugh at others’ misery, thinking of it as “retribution” or “payback” for the injustices he has suffered himself.)

Bro shaves using a knife (yes, he shaves because he is a grown ass man) because razors are hella expensive.

He uses that cheap cologne and cakes it on THICK. This, in his mind, gives off the impression that he’s a well-off and put-together individual you should tooootally trust.

Also the type of person that lays it on thick with his words. If he’s trying to impress a date or something, he’ll shower them with so many compliments it almost seems fake. But no, he’s just the type to simp hard when he happens to be genuine 💀 most of the time he’s faking it though—

He’s very street smart, but in a way where he confuses hostile people by talking over them and acting overly friendly. They usually stuns them long enough for him and Gidel to skedaddle.

If he gets dumped, he'd be the pathetic whimpering boyfriend that begs for his ex to take him back. When they inevitably don't, he mopes all day about it.

He chain smokes and aggressively drinks as a coping mechanism on his bad days 😔 and sometimes he gambles (like, on those scratch-off cards) hoping that he'll strike it rich and buy him and Gidel a better life...

Basically, he generally does not have his shit together but tries his best to pass like someone who does (and usually succeeds at it).

Fellow appears in public wearing his full suit, but at home (ie whatever ratty temporary housing their boss found for them before they move on to the next place) he just wears a T-shirt and lounges around in boxers (and sometimes socks with holes in them).

He uses those disposable eyeshadow wands that snap in half at the slightest bit of too much pressure. Fellow acts like the Claire’s kid makeup he uses is the luxury stuff, but Vil can tell the pigmentation isn’t all there and there’s MAD fallout.

He may be broke AF and have his moments of emotional spiraling, but he has pretty decent budgeting skills. Fellow lives for sales and does extreme couponing to stretch their money as far as it will go.

He invests in other cost-saving methods like wearing shoes until the sole is literally flopping off and just adding water to residual soap in a pump bottle to make the soap "last longer".

Fellow is really good at cutting food (bread, beans) thin to conserve it. Yes, this is a reference to an old Mickey Mouse cartoon—

When he was younger, he had dreams of being an actor (and, more specifically, starring in musicals). That's why he's often humming, swinging around his cane, and/or whistling as he's on the prowl for idiots to sucker—they're remainders of his thespian days before his dreams were crushed into itty bitty pieces.

Man looks like he'd be great at tap dancing.

Before his current gig, he tried a bunch of other scams including a MLM at one point to get by. His signature spell came in pretty clutch in those days too.

Fellow’s not that good at reading or spelling—in fact, he was never a particularly strong student. (“I didn’t fail school!! The schools failed ME!!”) He’s easily frustrated by academics and thinks there should be more hands-on and practical skills taught in learning institutions.

I think it's a given that he and Ruggie would be besties since they both want to eat the rich but I also think Fellow would kiss ass to Azul and then rage about how shitty + entitled Azul is (Azul reminds Fellow of his boss)💀 Scammers hate other scammers because they're both competing to scam the same people--

Even though Fellow is an asshole to most others (well, when he’s not flattering them to lure them into a trap), he’s always nice to Gidel and puts him first. If there’s ever a situation where they’re short on something (clothes, food, etc), Gidel gets priority. This is why Gidel has a full outfit (even if parts are patches or mismatched) whereas Fellow himself has a glove that is so worn out there’s a hole in one of the pinkie fingers.

Fellow may not be blessed with a bounty of magic, but he’s quick on his feet and good with words. Because of these skills, he’s talented at spinning bedtime stories, which he often tells to Gidel to help him fall asleep on nights that are particularly cold and nasty.

Gidel still believes in Santy Claws and wishing upon stars, and Fellow doesn’t have the heart to tell him the truth. He’ll figure it out on his own one day, Fellow thinks. He just doesn’t want to be the one to ruin those childhood joys for him.

Playing pretend is another shared past time of theirs. It helps Fellow get into character before he goes off to swindle people, and it gives Gidel a way to express himself in spite of being mute. They have a routine they do together where Fellow pretends to be a doctor diagnosing a patient and Gidel takes down notes for him as his medical scribe. Yes, this is a Pinocchio reference—

They actually have many more games they play (mainly because they cannot afford other forms of entertainment). Some of the games are clever ruses conjured by Fellow to teach Gidel survival tips and tricks: the who-can-make-their-piece-of-bread-last-longer game, hide-and-seek (from the authorities), etc.

For special occasions, Fellow saves up some money on the side to grant Gidel little luxuries, like a box of crayons to doodle with.

Gidel hugs Fellow’s leg or waist to cheer him up when he’s upset. He also hides behind Fellow when he’s scared or feeling shy.

He’s just really attached to Gidel cuz they have no one else in this cruel world, just them against the world 😔 He sees a lot of his younger self in the little boy… the opportunities lost because of their circumstances… “It’s alright, Gidel. Leave it to Fellow-sama.”

#twst #twisted wonderland #Fellow Honest #twst headcanons #twisted wonderland headcanons #Ferro honest #Gidel #Gidell #disney twisted wonderland #something no one asked for #spoilers #twst x reader #Fellow Honest x Reader #Vil Schoenheit #Ruggie Bucchi #Azul Ashengrotto #curiouser and curiouser

[astrumark]

── YOU GOT ME SLIPPIN', ACTIN' LAZY ★.

PAIRING: aemond targaryen x female reader.

SUMMARY: you see aemond with his hair up for the first time, and it is distracting.

WARNINGS: fluff, curse words, suggestive themes.

WC: 1.4K

You believe you are having a very vivid dream, that you are still wrapped in silky sheets and foolishly thinking you already started the day. This could mean you were late to your daily practices with the one-eyed prince, and that could simply not do. He would be beyond displeased. But the sight in front of you could have easily been the fruit of your imagination. 

When you moved to the Red Keep after your betrothal with Prince Aemond for proper courting, you were astonished by his fervent desire for you to begin to train with the sword and to learn self-defense. Personally. 

"I cannot have my future wife being defenseless, can I?" He said. "As much as I love protecting you, my darling, it's beyond my power to guarantee I will always be around." 

You cherished it. Your first encounters as betrotheds, like is commonly done, to walk around the gardens or drink tea during the afternoon was filled with awkward silence and useless small talk, but not the training. 

It was a lot more smooth since there was a purpose to your meeting. You moved your bodies around and got too occupied to talk beyond the necessary, and somehow, it seemed to improve your relationship more than any other activity you have tried before. It's a fun way to bond before the wedding and you felt yourself getting closer to the prince each day. The air between you rapidly shifted for one of mutual respect and slight teasing.

And it was rewarding as well, to test and improve your body and abilities. The soreness of your muscles became pleasant, and you have grown to feel more motivated and stronger, looking forward to it each dawn. 

Your only complaint is that it was too early, having to be awake even before the sun was entirely up. To look at your window and see a gray sky was simply distasteful. Aemond claimed it was necessary to avoid undesirable attention and comments. Usually, it was only the two of you and very few passing servants.

And this is how you would always find yourself in the chilly training yard first thing after you'd awake, a mist often covering the spot in the early hour.

The same mist that makes you doubt your eyes, but when the tall man stops just a few inches away from you, there is no mistaking it. Aemond has his hair up in a ponytail. 

And he looks fabulous. You are unable to avert your eyes, never have seen him with any other hairstyle besides the half-up one. His angled face full on display makes your stomach tingle with excitement.

You could almost visualize him in an extravagant armor competing in tourneys if only he liked it. It made him look like a warrior, but you also noticed the intimacy of it. You could see him with his hair in such a style in your private chambers during the morning as well, chest exposed and thin sheets wrapped around his waist after a passionate night. Warmth flooded your body, and suddenly, all your sleepiness disappeared. 

"Good morrow, my lady," He says quietly. "Slept well?"

"Yes, my Prince, thank you. What about you?" You bring your attention back to the table full of throwing knives in front of you. 

"As usual." He hums. "Would you like to try these first?" 

"Yes, please." 

"Choose one or two and come." He orders, already placing himself near the target.

You watch him from afar for a minute, completely amused, you don't think you have ever considered him as handsome as right now, your heart threatening to burst out of your chest any minute.

Aemond sets himself behind you as you position yourself as he taught you before, holding the other knife for you. You are grateful for his mercy since it was much easier to resist the urge to stare at him when he was out of your sight.

You aim the knife at the wooden target and it flies through the air, landing close to the center, but it trembles terribly and falls to the ground. 

"It didn't stick because you're standing too close," Aemond explains. "When it spins, if the blade is angled down when it falls, it indicates you need to step back. Half of getting the knife to hit the target is about where you are standing."

You listen attentively and try a new stance. This time, the knife lands on the right of the middle and sticks. You grin.

"Good, now let's try something else."

Your face falls slightly. "Already?"

"You seem to handle the knives nicely, although you still need practice. But you are awful at hand-to-hand combat, and so it must be our priority." 

"You flatter me." 

"Come and fight me, my lady." Aemond teases going to the middle of the yard, bouncing on his feet.

"You won't be as thrilled for it once we're wed."

He rolls his eye, and you mirror his stance. But it's distracting, the way his ponytail swings with each of his jumps, almost hypnotizing. 

The sudden punch in your jaw makes you stumble backward as you wince and rub your cheek.

"What was that?" Aemond's voice is thick and intimidating as his slender fingers tap lightly at your cheek as if to wake you up. "Are you still asleep?" 

"No." 

"Then pay attention, you didn't even try to block it." His voice lowers. "Did I hurt you?" 

You shake your head. He never does, his blows are weak, but warning. You've hurt yourself more seriously falling to the ground or striking him than from receiving any of his punches. He's awfully careful.

You go back to your positions, and though you do not stand still as before, you know you are being slow. When Aemond spins, aiming to elbow you, the ends of his hair brush your face, and the smell of lemon verbena soap invades your nostrils, once more distracting you. Unfortunately, you lose the timing to move away and try to protect yourself from his strike in the clumsiest way, flinching as you do so. Not necessarily effective, and most definitely not what you have been learning for weeks.

Aemond says your name exasperatedly, sending you a bewildered glance. "We've been past this." 

"I know." 

"This has not been an issue for you recently."

"I know." You repeat with a grunt.

"What is happening?" He asks.

"Nothing is happening, my Prince." 

"You are distracted," He affirms. "Leave these thoughts behind, focus only on the movements of your body. You will notice that with our practices your body almost knows what to do on its own if you permit it."

You try to follow his advice, and it works for a while. Your footwork becomes meticulous, avoiding Aemond's offenses gracefully, your arms solidly shielding your face and chest. 

With the effort, beads of sweat start to cover Aemond's forehead and nose. And your eyes are drawn to his hairline, especially to the wavy little hairs sticking to his skin. Adorable.

You realize you have lost balance a second too late, the twat successfully tackling you to the ground. Your back hits the dirt floor with a thud, and you lose your breath for a second. He hovers over you, pinning both your arms with his hands. A displeased noise leaves his mouth.

Another perk of training is the proximity. In no other context, other than fighting would be acceptable for betrotheds to stand so close, to find themselves pressed like this. The touches always held more importance than they should, a taste for what's yet to come.

"Foolish mistake." He releases your arms. "What is it? What's bothering you?"

You don't answer, and your attention drifts to his hair once again, the ponytail is falling to the side and very close to your face. You cannot control the urge to touch it anymore and your hand moves, the strands are softer than you previously thought, but it's also thin. You twirl it around your fingers as concentrated as a babe with their new toy.

Realization crosses Aemond's eye, and he chuckles wryly, pressing his body even closer to yours, making you feel all the outlines of his body. You whimper. Cunt. 

"Is it the hairstyle?" He asks teasingly. 

You wet your lips, throat closing up. He holds your chin, making you look directly at his violet iris. "Do you like it?"

You nod. "A great amount."

He grins wickedly, and he leans his face dangerously close, your noses brushing. "Then I will make sure to wear it around you more often, wife."

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x you #hotd imagine #hotd x reader #hotd fanfic #aemond fluff

[call-me-maggie13]

My late 40s to early 50s boss just asked what’s wrong with 18-25 year olds these days

And as a 21 year old all I could think was

The world has been on fire since we were born and we’ve been told the adults are putting it out and now we’re old enough to realize they’ve been pouring kerosene on the flames instead of water.

Before my first birthday, 9/11 happened and the world wouldn’t let us forget it. When I was 6 years old, on September 11th, my teacher sat us down in front of a tv and showed us footage of 9/11 and then told us we weren’t allowed to cry. She said that it was real and those were real people jumping from the building because jumping was a faster death than burning.

When I was 7 years old, the economy collapsed and my family went from lower middle class to poverty, we went from healthy home cooked meals every night to mac and cheese and beans for weeks in a row. We started skipping holidays because mom and dad couldn’t keep the lights on and buy us new toys. We started wearing clothes and shoes until they fell apart.

When I was 11 years old, Sandy Hook was attacked by a grown man with a gun and 26 children and teachers were brutally murdered. My teachers never looked at us the same and I haven’t felt safe in a school since. After that, once a month we would have active shooter drills and we were taught to fight and cause as much damage as possible if an armed man entered our classroom because it gave other classes a few extra seconds to escape, it gave our siblings a few extra breaths of safety. We were taught to cover ourselves in other students blood and play dead if we weren’t hit, we were taught that we weren’t safe and we wouldn’t be safe as long as we were in school.

When I was 15 years old, my high school art teacher locked us in the classroom and told us if we heard gunshots we should line the desks up lengthwise so that they reached the other wall because that would be harder to break through than a barricade. She told us that she knew about the threats and she wouldn’t judge any of us that wanted to leave. She told us to get our siblings and stay in the buildings as long as possible, to duck in between the cars so we couldn’t be seen until we got to ours. She told us about the trail behind the auto shop that was lined with trees and led off campus. I got my brother and his friends and we left, we spent the day sitting on the floor in my living room waiting for a phone call that the people we left behind were dying.

Two weeks later, one of my friends dragged me out of a football game and forced me to go home with him. He grabbed my brothers and my best friend and forced the six of us into a two seater car before he would tell us anything. His mom worked for the school board and had told him the police found an active bomb under the bleachers in the student section, and they weren’t informing anyone because they didn’t want to incite panic.

When I was 16 years old, ISIS set off a bomb at a pop concert in Britain and killed 22 people, injuring at least 100 more. The next day at school, our teachers went over how to stay safe if we ever experienced something like that. They told us the most important thing to remember was to not remove any shrapnel because it could be keeping us from bleeding out, they said it was more important to get yourself out safely before you worried about anyone else.

When I was 18 years old, my teachers stopped teaching and put the news up on the projector and we watched as the Notre-Dame burned. The boy I had sat next to since second grade spent the entire day trying to call his sister who was studying abroad in Paris, I watched this kid I had never even seen frown fall apart in English because she wouldn’t pick up the phone. We didn’t know it at the time, but she was okay.

Six months later, my history teacher put the news on the projector again for another fire. This time, we watched as an entire continent burned for three months. We watched their sky turned orange from the smoke and their wildlife drowned in pools because they were trying to escape the heat.

When I was 19 years old, the whole world shut down because of a global pandemic. I didn’t meet a single new person for eight months, despite the fact that I had just moved across the country. I watched as people didn’t wear masks and spread it to everyone around them, I was so scared when I went back to my room every night because my roommate was immunocompromised and I was terrified I would give her Covid and kill her.

Just two months later, I watched a video of a black man being murdered by police officers. I watched the world around me explode after George Floyd’s death, people destroying businesses and police stations. I watched some of my friends realize police officers didn’t exist to keep them safe, they existed to keep the people in power in power. I learned that some of the people I had grown up with would rather watch a black man die than admit that maybe, maybe, the system was broken.

When I was 20 years old, I went to the mall with a friend to buy a birthday present and I was pulled to the ground by a twelve-year-old girl after gunshots went off in the mall. I held this child’s hands as she cried for two hours until we were evacuated by police, and then I waited with her outside and helped her look for her mom. I gave her my phone to call her mom and I watched as she called the number over and over and never got a reply. I waited with her until a police officer took her to the station to try to find out more information about the girl’s mom, I hugged this girl I had never seen before and I wished her the best. I never found out what happened to her or her mom, it keeps me up at night sometimes worrying that this little girl was orphaned.

When I was 21 years old, I started working at a daycare and exactly a week later, Uvalde happened and I found myself crying because my students are the same age those kids were. When they came in after school the next day, one of them had asked me if I had heard about Uvalde and I told her I had, I asked her if she was scared of going to school because of it. Her reply broke my heart. “We practice for it every week so that when it happens to us, we know what to do. I’m just worried that the shooter is going to start in my baby sister’s classroom and not mine.” I listened as other students with younger siblings agreed with her, one of them saying “I would take fifty bullets, if I had to to keep my little brother safe.”

Early this year, I watched Russia launched bombs into Ukraine, blowing up churches and schools and hospitals and apartment buildings. I watched as the estimated death count rose from the hundreds to the thousands to the tens of thousands. I watched men send their wives and children to bordering countries for refuge while they stayed behind to fight, knowing they would probably never see each other again.

Just four months ago, I watched as my right to medical privacy got taken away. I watched my old roommate fall apart because she was denied the right to have her dead fetus removed from her body for almost two days, I worried every time I looked away from her that the next time I saw her would be in a casket. I watched as the women around me realized the military-grade weapons that had torn children in classrooms apart were protected by the government but our bodies weren’t.

There is nothing “wrong” with my generation, we’ve experienced all these things as children and were expected to respond with patriotism for a country that continuously sacrificed their children for the “right” to military-grade weapons, that took away my freedom of choice. We are tired, we were told the world was a wonderful place then shown, at every step, how the world was a place of destruction and pain. And we are angry. We are angry because no one but us seems to be trying to fix anything. And we are scared. We are scared because our children, our nieces and nephews, our cousins and our friends children are growing up in a world that won’t protect them.

#gen z post #generation z #gen z experience #tw 9/11 #9/11 mention #9/11 #tw active shooter #active shooter tw #tw gun mention #gun tw #tw abortion mention #tw gun violence #tw bombing #shooting at uvalde #uvalde #uvalde school massacre #uvalde school shooting #the war on Ukraine #ukraine war #fuck russia #george floyd #george floyd protests #Ariana grande concert bombing #notre dame cathedral #notre dame cathedral fire #fire in Notre dame #notre dame fire #sandy hook #sandy hook school shooting #sandy hook shooting

[lanadelnegan]

My Past, My Future - Part 1

Negan x Reader x Daryl (love triangle)

Part 2 here

Summary: Daryl is in love with you, but you're in love with Negan.

Warnings: 18+, smut, love triangle, p in v, romantic negan, angst, breeding

Note: this was requested from an anon (Negan saying goodbye to Lucille and confessing his love to y/n.) I decided to spice it up and throw Daryl in there. <3

"Lucille, baby. If you were here, you'd be so fuckin' disappointed in me.... But hell, if you were still here, things probably never would have made it to this point to begin with... Turned into a fuckin' monster when the world took you from me. Hope wherever the hell you are, you weren't watchin'. Truth is? I couldn't stand seeing anyone fuckin' happy because you took all my happiness with you when you left. But baby... I think I've found happiness again... "

Negan sighs heavily as he traces the wood grain of his beloved bat.

"She reminds me of you. So carefree and down-to-earth. If you met her, you'd understand... You'd want me to be happy, right? Hell, I've done enough suffering.. even though I probably deserved it. Anyways.."

Negan brings Lucille to his lips, pressing softly as his eyes squeeze shut.

"What I'm trying to say is.. you taught me how to love, Lucille. I'm forever grateful for that. And you'll always have a part of me. You're my past. But y/n... she's my future."

He tosses the bat into the fire, watching the wood burn bittersweetly as it concludes that chapter of his life.

----------------------------------------------------------

"Hey, where've you been?" Carol asks, jogging up to Negan as he arrives back at Alexandria.

"Had to take care of something." Negan shrugs. "You seen y/n around?"

"On a run with Daryl.. They should be back soon... Why?" Carol scrunches her brows at Negan and his jaw twitches at the mention of Daryl's name.

Daryl has been there for y/n since the very beginning, which is partly why Negan spared Daryl and let him live. Y/n begged Negan to let Daryl come back to Alexandria after Negan took him to the sanctuary, and he allowed it because even then, he had a soft spot for her.

Negan grunts. "No reason."

-----------------------------------------------------------

You and Daryl have been gone for a few hours now and you managed to find some canned goods on your run, weighing down your backpack. The sun is starting to go down just as you see the gates of Alexandria in the near distance and you grunt, adjusting the heavy bag on your shoulder.

Daryl notices your struggling and doesn't hesitate to grab your bag off your shoulder, throwing it over his.

He's been there by your side since the beginning and saved your lives more times than you can count.. helped you when you needed it. Even during the smallest inconveniences, like right now.

"You don't have to carry that."

"I know." Daryl grunts, adjusting your backpack next to his own on his back.

The rest of your walk is silent as the guilt from the secret you've kept for weeks now eats at you.

You started visiting Negan a couple weeks after he got locked up in Alexandria. The first time you did it was to curse him out.. Tell him how you wish he were dead and how your friends didn't deserve what he did to them.

The second time you visited was out of pure boredom. Carol and Daryl had gone on a run without you, and you snuck in to see him out of curiosity.

The third time was because you found that he intrigued you. The conversations you had with Negan had become like no other conversations you'd ever had. You felt like he was the only person who understood you.

Monthly visits to his cell became weekly visits. And weekly visits turned into daily visits. You'd bring him books to keep him company, sneak him snacks, and eventually, one thing led to another.

And now he's your secret boyfriend. You've been sneaking around with him for weeks now, like teenagers scared to get caught by their parents. And while it's thrilling, your feelings for Negan have grown into something much bigger that you ever expected.

"Daryl.. there's something I need to get off my chest."

If there's anyone who hates Negan, it's Daryl. But he's also the one person you trust the most, and he's going to find out eventually. So you decide it might as well come from you.

"Hm?" Daryl grunts, scuffing his feet in the gravel as he walks.

"Promise it won't make anything... different between us?"

He slows down, looking at you suspiciously. "Nah, ain't promisin' nothin'. But now ya gotta tell me."

You sigh, hoping you're not about to make a terrible decision.

"There's... someone I have feelings for..."

His brows scrunch together as he glances at you. When he doesn't answer, you hesitantly continue.

"I... I think I might even love him."

Daryl looks at you again, a softer look in his eyes this time as you continue on rambling.

"I haven't told anyone else. I don't want anyone getting upset with me... Or... judging me."

"Who is it?" Daryl quickly cuts you off as the Alexandrian gates open for the two of you.

"It's.. um.." You sigh as Negan's name stops on the tip of your tongue.

"Y/n.. hey, there you are. We need to talk." Negan is already on the other side of gate as you enter. Daryl stops beside you, refusing to leave your side as he glares at Negan.

"Uh, yeah.. let's go talk over there." You say, widening your eyes at Negan, confused that he's talking to you like this in front of Daryl. You've both done a decent job of keeping your interactions with each other private, so this is out of the ordinary.

"No..." Negan cuts you off. "I'm done hiding. I'm gonna talk and you're gonna listen."

"Negan.." You warn him, noticing the death glare that Daryl is giving him.

"I love you, y/n."

Your mouth drops open slightly at his confession. You want to say it back, because... you do love him. But something stops you.

Negan brings his hand up to rest against your cheek. "That's okay, baby. You don't have to say it back right now. I've waited for you for this long, I've got all the time in the world.. I just.. I needed you to know."

He takes you in his arms, hugging you tightly and resting his chin on top of your head.

"You can't be fuckin' serious." Daryl finally interrupts. "Him?" He asks, looking at you with hurt in his eyes.

You nod, the side of your head pressing into Negan's chest as your arms wrap around his waist. "Daryl... I was gonna tell you sooner. I-"

"Doesn't matter." Daryl grunts, spitting at the ground in front of him. "Whadaya want me to say, y/n? Congrats?" Daryl glares at Negan before angrily walking off.

You glance around, noticing others watching the scene before them. "Negan.. we need to take this somewhere else."

"Okay.. yeah, I know." He drops his head. "I just - I'm so tired of hiding from everyone. I want them to know you're my girl. I fuckin' love you, y/n. More than anything... Why is that so wrong? Why should I have to hide that?"

You search his eyes as a single tear falls from yours. You know you shouldn't want him. You know all of the awful things he's done, but you've grown to know him on such a deeper level over the past few months and you can't help but feel so strongly for him.

If being with him means the rest of the world is against you, then so be it.

You wrap your arms around him and slam your lips to his, kissing him desperately. You're too caught up in the moment to notice the shock on everyone's face around you. You deepen this kiss, savoring the taste of him as your tongues mingle together.

"Negan.. I need you." You say in between breaths as he lifts you up into his arms by your thighs and your legs wrap around his waist.

You can't take your lips off of him as he leads you into your house nearby, not paying attention to the hateful glares around you.

Negan kicks your front door open with you still in his arms and you slam it shut as he presses your back into the living room wall. His lips travel from your lips to your neck as he presses his erection into you. You whine, frustrated at the material separating both of you.

"Negan.. please, I need you.. now."

He carefully lets you down as both of you tear away at each other's clothes until you're naked and he's left in just his black boxers.

He picks you back up, leading you to the couch and sitting down with you straddling his lap. You pull away from his lips long enough to look into his hazel eyes, letting your hands cup his face before running your fingers through his graying hair.

You can't deny that you're head over heels in love with this man, as wrong as it may be. He's changed so much since he was leader of the Saviors, mentally and physically. He's a perfect example that people can change, and you hope that the others and Daryl can finally see that one day too.

"You're so fuckin' beautiful, baby." His cock springs free from the hole in his boxers as he takes your hard nipple into his mouth, sucking lightly.

You hover over him, lining his tip up with your entrance. You slide down slowly, inch by inch until he fills you completely and you feel the tip of him pressing against your cervix. You moan out at the satisfying pain as his fingers dig into your hips.

"That's it, sweetheart. God you feel so fuckin' good." He praises you.

You wrap your arms around his neck to support yourself as you bounce up and down on him and he groans out, looking up at you through his lust-filled eyes. You press your forehead and nose against his own as you continue riding him slow and hard, making sure he hits as deep as possible each time you come down on him.

"I love you too, Negan. So much."

"Yeah? Fuck. Say it again." He says, his breathing unsteady.

"I love you Negan... I'm in love with you."

"Fuck, baby. I'm so fuckin' crazy about you."

You crash your lips to his again as a tear falls from your cheek.

"Baby, don't cry. It's okay, we're gonna figure this out. Fuck everyone else." He wipes your tear away with his thumb as you continue grinding on him softly.

You nod. "I know.. I just.. want them to accept you."

Negan gets up suddenly, laying you down on your back before positioning himself between your legs.

"Only one I need acceptance from is you, darlin'." He says before sliding inside you in one quick motion. He fucks you fast and deep, interchangeably moaning filthy sounds in your ear and sucking at your neck.

After moments of thrusting, he pulls back, settling on his knees as he lifts your leg, placing it on his shoulder. From this new angle, he hits your g-spot perfectly over and over.

"Negan.." You breathe heavily. "I'm -"

"I know baby. Just fuckin' let go."

You come apart at the sound of his words, moaning out his name as your juices rush out of you. Negan looks down between the two of you, watching you soak his cock.

"Goddamn baby, look at that." His voice is low and raspy when he leans over you again. "So fuckin' wet." The sound of his voice right in your ear sends a chill through your body.

"Want you to cum in me.." You breathe out.

"Yeah? You sure, baby?"

You've never let him before, but now that your relationship is public and you've both confessed your feelings to each other, you crave him on a deeper level.

You nod desperately and he kisses you hard, spilling deep inside of you as his hips stop abruptly. He groans into your mouth as his dick pulses over and over and you feel his warm liquid paint your walls.

After a few minutes of snuggling and kissing, he finally pulls out of you and the two of you get dressed.

"Did you mean it?" He asks, pulling his pants up.

"Mean what? That I love you?"

He looks to you, waiting for your answer as you pull your shirt over your head.

Your eyebrows scrunch. "Of course I meant it. Why would I say it if I didn't mean it?"

He shrugs. "Dunno. You coulda been caught up in the moment."

You laugh, walking over to him and sliding your hands around his waist, pulling him in for a long hug. You look up at him to find him grinning down at you.

"Nope... Still love you." You reassure him.

He nods towards the door. "You ready to tell the world that?"

"Fuck this world. It doesn't care about us. Why should we care about it?"

Negan chuckles, kissing your forehead.

Your face grows serious at the thought of Daryl's reaction earlier. "Actually.. I need to find Daryl. Make things right.. He seemed really upset."

Negan nods disappointedly, dropping his head.

"Oh, stop. Don't be like that... You know his opinion is important to me."

"He'll never give us his blessing if that's what you're after, y/n."

"I don't need his blessing, Negan. I just don't want him to hate me. He's been there with me since the beginning. If we want a future together, I need to make things right."

Negan's brows come together as he lets go of you. "If we want a future together? ... So, if he's not okay with us being together, that's it? You're just gonna kick me to the fuckin' curb?"

"Negan.. I didn't say that."

"... but you did." He says.

"Negan, please just.. I didn't mean it like that." You say frustrated, reaching for him again. Your heart drops when he pulls away.

He nods, sliding his hands into his pockets as he waits for your explanation.

"I care about him, too. What he thinks.. matters to me. That doesn't mean I'm going to let it dictate our future. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have worded it that way."

"Okay." He whispers, but the hurt is still clear in his voice.

"Stay here, okay? I want you to sleep here tonight. I'll talk to them.. get them to agree to it. Just give me some time and.. don't leave the house, okay?"

Negan nods as you reach to hold his hands, standing on your tip toes to kiss him. "I love you Negan. This is going to work, I promise."

Part 2 here

#jeffrey dean morgan #negan #jdmorgan #negan fanfiction #jdm x reader #jdm fanfiction #twd negan #jeffrey dean morgan x reader #negan smith #jdmfanfiction #negan x you #negan x reader #negan smith x you #negan smith smut #negan smut #daryl dixon #twd daryl #daryl x reader #daryl x y/n #daryl x you #negan x y/n #negan x oc #twd fanfiction #the walking dead #jdm smut #jdm fanfic request #jdm fanfic #negan x daryl #negan and daryl #daryl dixion imagine

[vivwritesfics]

Hungry Like The Wolf

Chapter Two

She hadn't seen her best friend, Lando, in years. She didn't run into him the last time she was visiting her father and she doubted she'd see him this time. Things were different now. She wasn't aware of his furry little problem. Just like she wasn't aware of the vampires plaguing the town.

1.4K

Vampire!Oscar x Reader x Werewolf!Lando

Series Masterlist

It came as no surprise that Jack didn't recognise his big sister. It was heart breaking, sure, and Toto wanted to do something about it.

"Jack really likes that cafe in town," he said as he sat on the end of his daughters bed. She had spent the previous evening rearranging her desk to better allow her to get on with work. "You could take him and get some work done at the same time," he suggested.

She gave a small nod. "Yeah, if Susie is okay with me taking him," she said.

"It was Susie's idea."

Before she knew it she was out of the house, holding Jack's hand with her laptop bag over her shoulder. She waved at her dad as she started down the driveway, heading further into the town.

That was until she collided with a firm chest. She let go of Jack to not drag him with her, as strong arms wrapped around her keeping her up. "You okay the- Y/N?"

She looked into the strangers lovely eyes, taking a moment before she recognised him. "Lando? Lando Norris?"

He once again wrapped his arms around her, this time in a friendly manner. But she pushed away from him, got a better look at him and felt his chest. Lando went slightly red at that, but he didn't pull away. "You've really grown," she said with a grin, once again reaching for Jack's hand.

"So have you, uhh..." he began. She didn't know that he had been watching over her from the moment she arrived, that he had orchestrated this meeting from the moment she arrived. But, now that he was here, he didn't know what to say.

"So, uh, Jack and I are heading to Renee's Cafe. Do you wanna come with?"

Renee's cafe. That was on the other side of town. The vampire side of town. Even if he wanted to, Lando couldn't go, not without breaking a multitude of laws. He shook his head. "I can't, but we could exchange phone numbers? That way we could plan to meet," he said.

"Love it," she called as she pulled her phone from her bag. She passed it over to Lando, letting him punch in his number before they went their separate ways.

Well, she thought they went their separate ways. She and Jack headed to the cafe, Lando retreated back down the road. He kept turning around though, waiting until she and Jack were out of sight. As soon as they were out of sight, he dove into the woods and followed her scent until he got to the vampire side of town.

There he paced, thick paws crushing the twigs on his path.

Holding Jack's hand, she walked him into the cafe. They sat at the very back, she left Jack there with her bag while she got them both something to eat and drink.

As soon as it had been ordered she sat back down opposite her half brother. Jack looked around the cafe, but he wouldn't look at her. She sucked in a breath and leaned back in her chair. "You have no idea who I am," she said, and Jack shook his head. "That's okay. I haven't been around very much. Their drinks were placed in front of them, along with pastries.

She tried to ask Jack as many questions as she could, but he wasn't very willing to answer. It was okay, though. She understood. She was nothing more than a stranger to him at that point.

"Wanna head home?" She asked him once they'd finished eating.

Jack nodded his head. He hopped out of his chair as she grabbed her bag and took him out of the cafe. "What're you gonna do when we get home?" She asked as she led him out of the cafe.

Jack shrugged his shoulders.

"Has dad taught you any German yet?"

He nodded his head. "Polish, too," he said and she gave him a small smile.

But she was too concentrated on her little brother. She wasn't looking where she was going as they wandered through the parking lot and smacked right into something.

Just like she had with Lando, she let go of Jack's hand as a pair of strong arms wrapped around her, holding her up. This time, when she looked up at the owner of the arms, she didn't recognise him.

His skin was pale and a few moles were dotted around on his face. His eyes were a lovely shade of brown and his hair fell over his forehead, parted down the middle. He was gorgeous, that was undeniable.

“I'm so sorry about that,” he said in an Australian accent, a polite smile on his face as he released his hold on her, his fingertips brushing against the exposed skin of her arm. He was cold to the touch.

She shook her head and readjusted her bag on her shoulder. “No, no,” she began. “It was my fault, I wasn't looking where I was going.”

The kind stranger kept staring at her. “Are you new in town? I haven't seen you before,” she said.

“Uh, yeah. Sort of,” she answered. “I'm here visiting my dad.”

Suddenly Jack was in front of her, waving up at the pale stranger. “Hi, Oscar,” he said.

Oscar. She looked at his face as the name played in her head. It suited him. He certainly looked like an Oscar. “Hey Jack,” he said as he mussed up his hair. “Who're you with today?”

“This is my sister,” he answered.

Oscar snapped his eyes towards her. “I didn't know Toto and Susie had a daughter,” he said.

“That's because they don't,” she answered, somewhat lightheartedly. “Toto is my dad, yeah, but Susie is my stepmother. I'm visiting for a few weeks.” She held her hand towards him. “I'm Y/N.”

He took her hand, skin so cold against her own it sent a shiver down her spine. “Oscar. It's nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you too,” she replied, finally letting go of his hand. She placed her hands on Jack's shoulders. “Well I’m gonna get this guy home. It really was nice to meet you, Oscar.”

He waved as she walked away, unable to look away from her. She had smelled so sweet, the fragrance overtaking Oscars senses. That was how he had bumped into her, because of her scent and the sound of her heart thumping in her chest. Desperately he wanted to chase after her, but he hung back, restraining himself.

Hie smell, the smell of vampire clung to her as she walked back to the werewolf side of town. Lando couldn't help but growl as the smells mixed together. He knew exactly which vampire she had come into contact with, as well.

Oscar. He was the vampire who loved to provoke Lando. He was the one who nearly had Lando breaking the treaty the vampires and the werewolves had created all those hundreds of years ago.

Oscar had touched his girl. And he was pissed about it.

Lando watched from the bushes as she and Jack entered the house. As soon as they were inside he turned away and ran back to his pack. He skillfully moved around the trees at the high speeds he was travelling to get back to them.

When he got there Daniel and Sergio were outside, wresting. It wasn't an uncommon sight to see two members of the back trying to push one another out of the circle. “DR,” Lando called and the two of them split apart.

Sweaty and out of breath, his tattoos on show, Daniel approached his much younger pack mate. He was the friendliest in the pack and had accidentally become friends with one of the vampires, Max.

“Talk to your boy for me,” he said, biting back a growl. “Tell him to tell the other blood suckers to stay away from the Wolff family.”

Daniel watched him for a minute. Lando was the youngest of all of them. He had little control over his emotions and Daniel could tell he was ready to burst. “Shirt off, jump in the ring with us,” he said,gesturing back to Checo.

Sucking in a breath, Lando did just that.

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Series Taglist (OPEN): @cmleitora @booksandflowrs @evie-119 @annispamz @neilakk @ln4norizz @rayaharper

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[simp2537]

You don’t have request for the Darkling? Let me fix that (:

Someone wants to hurt Alek by kidnaping the reader so, Alek saves her and he’s mad AF

Touch her and die

a/n: I love writing over protective partners and stuff so I loved this. Also reader is a bit chaotic cause why not. Also made reader a Tidemaker.

Warning: kidnapping, language, blood, grisha hate, kinda bratty reader? Aleks goes psycho mode, injuries, drüskelle, mentions of Aleks and readers age gap

Aleksander Morozova x fem! Reader

It was an unspoken rule for all grisha, for all ravka, for everyone to not hurt his lover. It was no great secret that the Darkling, the Black general himself was absolutely smitten by his favorite Tidemaker. With her pretty e/c eyes and a pout on her rose colored lips she could get anything she wanted from her general.

His Tidemaker had grown up in a village boardering Fjerda, so grisha testers weren’t common to go there. In secret her older brother, also a Tidemaker taught her the ways of the grisha. Unfortunately a little ways after her nineteenth birthday drüskelle invaded her village and he brother died saving her life.

She ran through the thick forests of ravka with no idea where to go as they chased her when he appeared. His shadows cut through the drüskelle and not long after that the darkling infatuation with his Tidemaker became apparent.

Now his Tidemaker strut into the meeting he conducted, she was late. She walked right up to his side with a smile and adjusted some of the toy soldiers as he spoke. Then she walked right over to Zoya, who shock her head at her friend’s brazenness.

“You’re late, L/n.” Zoya muttered as she drew over the Ravkan maps. Y/n giggled softly as he began to help Zoya. Aleksander would glance back over at the pair every so offten. His Tidemaker clad in a black kefta with teal embroidery. He loved that she so proudly wore his color.

Her and Zoya began to giggle about something, probably a comment she’d made when one of the king advisors cleared his throat.

“Miss L/n have you something to add?” He asked cutting off the girls chatter. The room went quiet as she went stiff. Ivan and Fedyor shared a quick look as their generals eyes darkened. His tone was snobbish and rather rude.

He spoke as if he was better than she was, and it made her almost want to laugh as she turned. Slowly she made it back to the main table with the toy soldiers, this was a different plan than the one she’d just arranged. It was horrible and would lead to the deaths of many grisha.

Y/n would not sacrifice her soldiers when she could do better. Quickly she fixed up the arrangement with an empty look, Aleksander watched her in awe. As she finished she turned to the advisor with the same snobbish looked he’d given her.

“It seems you needed some assistance, don’t worry sir for I will always be there to fix the mistakes.” Y/n mocked as she bowed her head slightly. Aleksander chuckled slightly and moved a stray hair behind her ear. Such an open act of affection for his Tidemaker was nothing new, but for him to do it after she’d humiliated one of the king’s advisor was a risky move.

“Although Miss L/n was late she has fixed this plan to ensure the safety of all the grisha going into this battle. For that I am most grateful.” He amused as he stared at her. She smiled cheekily as she returned to Zoya’s side, a confident sway to her hips.

This was the last time Aleksander had seen her that day.

……………………

It was no secret that the darkling had a great many enemies, but as the fist collided with her face for the hundredth time, Y/n was growing tired. The kings advisor, whatever his name was had hired drüskelle of all people to kidnap her.

Of course her hands were bound apart and she was tied to the chair. She was surprised they hadn’t just killed her but she didn’t care. She was growing bored of all the punches. Her face was bruised, the right side more then the left, her lip busted, and she was sure at least one of her ribs were broken.

“It’s not to late to get me go you know.” She mumbled as she dropped her head back. Her hands quietly attempting to undo her cuffs.

“Drüsje your pleading for your life will not work.” The tallest announced. She sighed softly, he would come for her. If she was dead by the time he found her she knew all of Fjerda would pay.

“It would just be in your best interest.”

They all laughed and she joined in. Let them laugh, it’ll probably be the last time they do. She though softly.

“We will end you, and then we will break the darkling.” Y/n nodded softly at there words as they smashed their fist into her side. She groaned as she felt a rib snap.

“Then kill me, what is it you are afraid of?” Y/n taunted. They all froze, one of them brought there axe dangerously close to her neck.

“Will you not beg for your life?”

“Take it if it pleases you. It is not me who suffers when I’m gone.” They didn’t know what to say to that. They had heard the talks of the darkling whore. How she could boil the blood, pull the water from your body, freeze your nerves. But the women in front of them didn’t look the dangerous type.

“You aren’t the confident whore of the darkling we’ve heard tales of. You are just his pet he plays with from time to time.” Her face hardened at those words. She was not dressed in his color to be watered down to a simple whore. She smiled charming as she began to un click the cuffs.

“Most women aren’t as crude as you, they are modest.” Y/n giggled softly. She saw the shadows begin to move.

“Unfortunately for everyone I will keep doing whatever the fuck I want.”

Y/n snapped her cuffs and rolled her chair causing it to hut the ground. The shadows form into the cut and swore through the air above her. The shadows surrounded her till the familiar frame of her Sasha towered over her.

“Would mind untying these ropes?” Y/n uttered softly slumping against the grounds, her confident persona gone. The ropes were off and Aleksander pulled his Tidemaker to her feet. His hand clutched her face as he brought her in for a messy and passionate kiss.

She moaned softly into the kiss as he held her face. His hands slowly began to trail down and she pulled away with a wince.

“What is it?” Aleksander whispered as she clung to him.

“I think they broke a few ribs.” She whined as she lean into his frame for support. From the outside of the cabin she heard a few grunts, a scream or two and then silence. Aleksander placed his cloak around her shoulder in hopes of warming her.

“My healers will attend to you when we get back.” He placed a kiss to her head and began to pepper her hairline with kisses. The fear was evident in his eyes at her body. His eyes scanned her bruised face and body, her busted lip, the blood dripping down the side of her arm.

He hated that she’d gotten hurt so badly before he could save her. By the looks of her cuffs she was half way there in her own. With a slight waddle she made it to the door, with protest from her lover she pushed them opens, her jaw hit the ground.

Blood and carnage surround the cabin where she was kept. She limped her way through the bodies as Aleksander trailed behind her. Ivan, Fedyor, Zoya, and the twins were there.

“What happened out here?”

No one answered as Zoya hugged Y/n, attempting and failing to be cautious of her ribs. Aleksander pulled Y/n away after allowing Zoya to hug her, he didn’t want her to far.

“I thought they’d killed you… I lost my temper.” Aleksander admitted as he picked Y/n into his arms. Y/n stared at him for a moment.

“If this is what you do when you’re out of control, I’d hate to see what you do when you are.” Fedyor laughed softly as Ivan swatted at his husband. Y/n’s words were true. There wasn’t a thing in the world there general wouldn’t do for his precious Tidemaker.

#aleksander morozova x reader #aleksander morozova x you #shadow and bone netflix #zoya nazyalensky #ivan x fedyor #answered #general kirigan x reader #general kirigan #general kirigan x you #the darkling imagine #the darkling x reader

[wosowrites]

Moose (Jessie Fleming x Reader)

warnings: none

prompt: in which the reader and jessie play for chelsea and before they leave for the world cup reader makes jessie a crochet moose which becomes the team mascot for canada.

a/n: based off this request here also a super short fic because i’m still broken.

You were not at all a crafty person. Jessie had grown up with a craft room in her house and she liked to paint, draw, and do artsy things to calm herself down like her mother had taught her. When you started dating a year into her contract at Chelsea, her calmness had rubbed off on you. You had always been a stressed out person and moving in with Jessie had made you into a much more relaxed and happy human. You would go on bike rides, hikes, make crafts, paint the house every time you got bored of it and do everything together.

However the only thing you started doing on your own was crocheting. Jessie had tried it but was never big on it, so all the spare yarn in the house went to you. You loved it. You were horrific at it however. Everything turned into little colourful blobs and your creations were constantly either too loose or too messy. That’s why, when you walked into the house one day and pulled out a beautifully crocheted moose with a Canada jersey on, Jessie was baffled.

For the past three weeks, you would escape to a café every day and crochet for about an hour before going back to your girlfriend. Jessie was not a worried person and as madly in love as you both were with each other, spending a small amount of time away from each other every day just made you closer. Some days you would tell her you were grocery shopping, other days it was a meeting with your agent, a hang out with one of your German teammates.

But today, Moose was finally done.

You finished him a week and a half before the departure of the World Cup and you were in Canada with Jessie and her family. It would make it harder to travel all the way back to Germany and then to Australia but you didn’t care. All you wanted was to be girlfriends instead of rivals for as long as possible.

At the dinner table that night, you picked up your glass and straightened up.

"Um, I’m not big on words as you guys have seen by now but I wanna say a couple words," you said.

Jessie’s entire family put down their cutlery and looked up at you. "I’m terrified for this World Cup. Like… horrified. It’s been four years since I’ve played a major tournament so far from you, Jess. The olympics are in one city so we can visit but in Australia… we’re constantly going to be flying around. So… I made Moose," you said.

From under the table, you grabbed a bag and pulled out the knit animal. He had a red and white swear and big old antlers. Jessie’s mouth fell open and a large smile cracked her freckled face. "I’ve been making him for weeks, and he has like… five half knit siblings that went wrong if you want them," Jessie laughed loudly and extended her hand to take the crocheted animal. "Baby… it’s perfect oh my god," she said, smiling down at the animal. "Klara taught me how to make him. That’s why I was always out for an hour or so these past weeks," You said.

Jessie hugged the plushy to her chest and then put it beside her plate. The brunette stood up and walked to behind your chair, wrapping her arms around your neck and squeezing you.

Elysse took a quick picture as Jessie’s parents raved over your new talent.

Over the next couple weeks, Jessie was seen carrying Moose during press, in the bus, around the city, at training, everywhere. She always had Moose. And if she didn’t, she had entrusted Christine Sabrina, or anyone else on the clamer side to take care of the little mascot.

After Canadas 2-1 win over Ireland, Jessie was interviewed and eventually, the subject of Moose came up.

"Is that a moose?" the woman asked, looking down at the plushie tucked under Jessie’s arm. The camera followed the reporters eyes and then went back up to the Canadian. "Yeah it is," she laughed shyly, holding up the mascot. "Is there a story benne that? I mean it’s been showing up everywhere. "There is, yeah. My… uh my girlfriend made it for me. She’s at the world cup and her friend taught her how to make it for me. We won’t be seeing each other for a while depending on how the games go so she said she wanted me to have a piece of her. It’s cute, and I didn’t think she was this artsy so it caught me by surprise for sure," Jessie said, shyly and gently.

The reporter awed over Jessie’s story but the midfielders brain was just full of images of you. She missed you so much.

That night, she called you and the whole Canadian team joined the call behind the vice- captain, thanking you for the mascot.

#woso fic #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso #jessie fleming #canwnt #gerwnt

[leviathxn]

“Little Girl to Little Lady”

Dads best friend! Miguel x Younger! Fem! Reader

Warnings : Cock Warming, Age gap, oral, mentions of masturbation (and slight but very little), dirty talk? Breeding king (per usual lmao) and I forgot what else but it’s sex so

Summary : Miguel and you have always been close… but even closer now

It always annoyed me whenever people would say “you grew up so fast” or “I remember you when you were just a baby”. It was even worse when Miguel O’Hara, your dads best friend, would say it. He didn’t say it often, but when it was a late night of drinking with my father he would always say it to me, almost as if he was telling himself. Whenever he said it he sounded like he was trying to reason with himself rather than just making small talk or being an emotional drunk. It wasn’t like Miguel and I weren’t close either. In fact my dad had always left me at Miguel’s house to babysit when I was younger, no naturally I looked at him as an important older figure in my life.

Well actually I looked at him more than just a supportive adult. To say he wasn’t an attractive man was a total lie. He was gorgeous, body chiseled like a greed god. He was the reason I even got sex toys and explored my kinks. Because every night he would plague my mind as I got older.

He was 20 when I was born, was married and had his daughter, Gabriella at 25. His wife passed 5 years later when he was 30. It was heartbreaking to see him and Gabriella in such despair and pain. Me and my dad had visited more often. I had felt the pain as well, especially as a 10 year old. Dana was a mother figure to me ever since my mom had up and left after I was born. Naturally this led me to help take care of Gabriella and be a supportive woman in her life. She lost her mom and I didn’t want her to feel the  loneliness that I felt. I was (obviously) 5 years older than Gabriella so when I turned 15 I was able to babysit her alone when Miguel and my father had went out. I taught her about body and how she would be changing, helped her dress up and learn makeup. It was almost weekly that our parents would come home and find us cuddled together, sleeping with a movie on.

When I had turned 19 it was a little harder to visit Gabriella but I was always a text or phone call away if she ever needed me. My connection with her and Miguel was still very strong, as they came over for “family night” often. Obviously Miguel and my dad would drink while forgetting about whatever card or board game we were playing soon after. Gabriella started to get tired, it was around 10:30 as I put her to bed in my room. Whenever she fell asleep I would always share the bed with her. That’s what led me, Miguel and my dad to be downstairs, still drinking.

I didn’t drink really, Miguel and my dad knew this, never offering alcohol unless I specifically asked for it. I didn’t have a reason to drink, my social life never landing me at parties. When it came to relationships, I was hopeless. I was usually into older guys and besides a decent fuck, I didn’t see myself getting attached to them. At the end of the day, I always thought of Miguel when they were on top of me. It was shameful but most of the time the guys were too horny to even realize I wasn’t moaning their name.

I sat next to Miguel on the big couch as my dad sat in the arm chair to our right. He smiled as he listened to my dad, looking over at me. That’s when I heard the usual.

“Seeing you take care of my little Gabriella reminds me of when you were younger. You’re much more grown now though. A little Lady instead of a little girl”. I laughed as my dad finished his drink.

“Well Miguel? Let’s look at some baby photos!” My laugh abruptly stopped as my face flushed. I always objected, saying that Miguel has seen me as a kid so many times already, that he didn’t need to see anymore or be reminded. They always laughed me off as my dad took out the book.

“Even if I took care of you then, it’s nice to be reminded. I may still see you as a kid but the pictures remind me of how much you’ve grown”. There was that tone again. The one where he sounded like he was fighting himself to reason. But to reason over what? That I was a growing into a woman? Or that he thought I still acted like a kid? I grumbled as Miguel finished his beer and flipped through the photos with my dad. Even though I objected at first, it was nice laughing all together about my funny photos. As the night went on, my father slowly fell asleep on the couch, a smile on his face. I shook him awake, helping him to bed. As I came back down I saw Miguel still flipping through the book. I sat next to him again, looking over his shoulder.

Then there was a photo oh Miguel, feeding me cake as I sat in his lap. We both looked so young. I was probably around 6 in the photo, his frame still much larger than mine. He sighed, sliding his thumb over his bottom lip. I looked at him, as he looked at the photo for a good few minutes.

“Uhm.. Miguel is everything okay?” He glanced over to me, face flushed. I had never seen him look that way. He put his bottle down, next to the many other bottles…. I knew Miguel could drink but when did he finish so many? While we were looking at the photos? Miguel definitely wasn’t drunk but he was positively tipsy. He put his hand on my thigh, running it up and down my leg. I shuddered at his touch. “Miguel?”

“I would kill to have you in my lap like that again”. He said unwavering. I felt the heat rush to my face as he said it, I looked away and shifted awkwardly.

“M-Miguel where is this coming from?” He chuckled and stopped his hand at my upper thigh.

“The only reason I’m able to say this is because of what I heard you doing to yourself last night”. My face drained. He saw that? How much did he see? I was face down, ass up with a vibrator, is he talking about that? Or is he pulling my strings? Did he hear me moan his name?

“What are you talking about? I was in my room reading.” I said, my voice wavering. I wanted to seem convincing, I really did but I was so nervous under his gaze.

“Were you? That’s not what it sounded like… or what it looked like.” He shifted onto the ground, moving in between my legs. His arms on either side of me, trapping me on the couch. I couldn’t move. I was so nervous as my body trembled. “Did you imagine me eating you out? Or maybe you imagined me fucking you, hm? You were so loud.. just for me”. He kissed my legs, slowly inching towards my inner thigh. I slightly opened my legs on instinct. He chuckled and didn’t move any closer. “Use your words querida.” He said firmly as I shook my head. This was too embarrassing for me. Even being below me he had so much control over me. He shrugged his shoulders and began to get up. I panicked and grabbed his shoulders.

“P-please don’t leave…”. I pleaded. No matter how embarrassed I was, I have been wanting this for so long, so painstakingly long. He licked his lips as he got on his knees in front of me again. Kissing my thighs again. “I thought about you… uhm well I thought about you eating me out” I choked out. He already knew that I thought about him, no point in hiding it. He smirked into the kisses and slid his fingers to the hem of my shorts. He unbuttoned and unzipped them slowly. Miguel looked at me for conformation and I nodded my head. He pulled them down and off my body, leaving me in a shirt and panties. He brought his fingers to my clothed pussy, feeling the drenched fabric.

“Ahh so wet already. Were you thinking about me today?”. I nodded my head as he looked up at me. “Why? Tell me what made you think about me”. I felt embarrassed again, hoping he wouldn’t be mad about the answer.

“When I was putting Gabriella to bed I thought about having a family with you… a-and what it would feel like to have you put a baby in me”. His laugh was deep as he put his hands on my lower back and pulled me closer to him. His lips hovered over my panties, kissing my heat through the cloth. I twitched from the contact

“Oh my… you’ve got more of an imagination that I thought. Would you want to be a mother? Have my babies inside you?” I nodded my head again and he snarled. “Words cariño.” His tone was stern, not making things easy for me

“Yes, Miguel”. He nodded his head in approval before sliding my panties down and blowing over my heat. I yelped as the sensation, his breath was hot, and it made my body shudder. “Miguel please~”.

“Please what?” He asked teasingly as he inched even closer.

“Please eat me out”. He chuckled and latched his lips on my pussy. He took no time sliding his tongue in. He lapped at my juices as I threw my head back, gripping onto the couch. I whimpered while biting on my lip. I didn’t want Gabriella or my dad to wake up. He moved his hands to my thighs as he prevented them from clamping on his head as he continued to eat me out. His tongue did wonders and he moaned into me, letting the vibration of his moan toy with me. He spread my thighs further apart, allowing him to go deeper with his tongue. I didn’t think it was possible but the sliding of his tongue left me shaking. I wanted to squeeze my legs around him so bad, I wanted him to stay right there.

“Miguel more please~” I whispered, I was so scared to release a moan that I squeaked out the words. I was surprised he even heard me as his hands moved to my ass, allowing me to close my legs. I felt the knot from in my stomach as he continue to tongue fuck me. My legs squeezed around his head as I came in his mouth. He lapped up all of it, licking his lips. I panted as he chuckled and wiped his cheeks. He played with my juices on his fingers, putting them up to my mouth and making me taste myself.

“Was that good? I don’t think any guy your age could do as good as me”. He stated proudly as I nodded my head, still dazed from the sensation.

“I’ve only ever fucked older guys… but no guy has ever done that for me in the first place”. He scoffed

“Really? So un-classy… good thing I’m taking care of you from now on hm?” I giggled at his response. He was really getting an ego boost from this. He moved me from the couch and brought me upstairs to the guest bedroom.

Him and Gabriella were over so often that it was pretty much his. The only problem was that it was right nexts to my dads, and the walls weren’t exactly thick either. I reminded myself to stay quiet so we wouldn’t wake him. “Rest for a few minutes. Im gonna clean up downstairs and then I’ll come back up and give you what you really want”. I nodded my head, feeling my pussy throb and clench on nothing. He walked out of the room, my body trembling thinking about him. I wonder how big he is…. I mean I’m already much smaller than him so he would probably stretch me out.

I let my fingers slid down to my pussy, gliding over it. I let out a breath as I slid my fingers in, toying with my walls. I bit my lip again as I finger fucked myself to the thought of Miguel. He was amazing with his tongue but his dick would be 100x better. Hitting every spot, reaching deeper and deeper… then coating my walls with his seed-

My wrist was grabbed and my fingers were pulled out. I gasped at the sudden emptiness as I saw Miguel over me, licking my fingers. I stared up at him, watching him clean off my digits. He cleaned up that fast? Or was I imagining him for that long?

“Really? You couldn’t wait 5 minutes?” I looked away embarrassed. He chuckled pushing me flat on my back. He took his jeans off and tossed them across the room. He slid his boxers down just enough. Miguel stood at the edge of the bed and pulled me towards him. I yelled as I felt my pussy press against his cock. He finally lifted up my shirt, unclasping my bra. “God you look perfect”. He stared at my flushed face, hair sticking out everywhere with lustful eyes. My nipples hardened at the cold air, perking up. He left one hand on my waist for support, the other hand lining himself up. I wrapped my legs around him as he lined himself up with me. I gulped. The most I’ve taken in is 5 inches, Miguel was at least 8 and his girth…. He pushed his tip in and I gasped.

He continued to push himself into me, my pussy stretching more and more. Tears brimmed in the corner of my eyes. He cusped my cheek and wiped the tears. “You’re almost there querida, breathe”. He got half way before my pussy clenched again. He grunted before putting both hands on my waist. He rubbed circles, trying to help me relax. “Mi amor please you have to relax or else I can’t fuck you”. The words ‘mi amor’ rung throughout my head. My body relaxed as I thought about it. I didn’t know Spanish but I knew that much. My face heat up as I brought my hands to my face. Mi amor? Would he call me that even if we weren’t fucking? Did he like me? I mean I liked him, hell I loved him. Did I love him or did I just want him to fuck me?

I was snapped out of my thoughts when I felt his push the rest of himself inside of me, I moaned out loud before quickly covering my mouth. I wasn’t ready for it as he bottomed out. He chuckled as he brought his lips close to mine.

“What got you so distracted? It’s almost like you forgot that my dick was in you”. I blushed as he stayed in place, me basically just cock warming as he spoke.

“I- uhm…. You called me ‘mi amor’ and I started thinking”. I trailed off, looking away. I didn’t want to move or else I would moan again. His eyes widened at my reaction.

“(Y/N) look at me”. I hesitated. “Look at me now.” I turned my head and met his eyes. Before could explain myself he kissed my lips. But it was warm… so warm and loving. I kissed back, wanting to feel more of his passion. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him in deeper. As our kiss deepened he began to rock his hips into me. I moaned into his mouth, letting him slide his tongue in. He took immediate control and continued to fuck me.

He bottomed out quickly, beginning to pound into me. “Listen to me (Y/N), wether I had you in bed or not I love you”. I nodded my head and whimpered as he continue to fuck me. He moved his hands to my breast, latching onto my left one with his mouth and playing and twisting my right nipple. I tried so damn hard to stay quiet as his balls slapped against my ass. If I spoke now I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from making noise. “Say it mi amor”.

“I- I love you too Miguel-mphm!” He shoved his fingers into my mouth, moving his to leave hickies from my shoulders to the valley of my chest. His tip hit every spot, I felt every vein on his girth as he continued to pounded into me.

“Yeah? So that means I can put my babies in you? Fill you up with my cum all night? You would want that wouldn’t you. For me to use you as a cum dump”. A ray of yesses left my mouth, said so drunkenly. I was so dazed from his cock I couldn’t think straight. The drool started to pour out of my mouth as he pressed himself deeper and deeper. He has so much stamina. He grunted as he watched my tits bounce. “Don’t be too loud… your dad might wake up”.

Miguel put his hands on my waist, wanting to let my boobs bounce on their own. Lewd noises filled the room as I saw stars, eyes rolling back from the pleasure. He staggered, my pussy clenching on every bit of him. A knot formed in my stomach as I continued to pant and whimper. It took every ounce of will power not to break and scream out his name.

I felt the knot burst as I came, a moan escaping my lips. A few more stores and Miguel coated my walls. I felt the heat fill me up to the brim. He hovered over me before pulling his cock out. He watched as our mixed cum began to spill out of me. Miguel pressed his thumb to my hole, keeping in as much as he could.

“Don’t want any of it to go to waste right? Or else we’ll have to do this again”. He was met with silence. Well besides my pants as I stared up at the ceiling with half lidded eyes and drool still lining down my cheek. He stared at my fucked out appearance and admired his work. He went into the bathroom (connected to the guest room) and grabbed a towel. He cleaned us both up before putting on a pair of boxers. He ventured to my room as he grabbed me a pair of panties. He looked over to Gabriella, sleeping soundly. He smiled and kissed her forehead thinking about how good of a mom I would actually be.

Coming back to the guest room he saw me sitting up, cleaning up my face and hair. We smiled at each other as he helped me put the underwear on. He gave me one of his shirts as it would fit like a dress. Although the sheets were slightly stained, that was something he would worry about another time. He debated his options. He could sleep and cuddle with me and run the risk of my dad seeing us or he could send me upstairs to Gabriella. As safe as it sounded he decided to keep me with him, wanting to be with the woman he just talked about having a baby with. It’s the least he could do after he just fucked you like that.

He pulled me close and laid down with me, spooning me from behind. I used his arm as a pillow, his other hand resting on my stomach. I smiled as I closed my eyes, painfully tired after our “little stunt”. He watched me fall asleep before kissing my head and closing his eyes as well.

OKAYYY SO IVE BEEN WRITING THIS FOR A FEW HOURS NOW AND IF YOU GUYS WANT A PART 2 OF LIKE THE AFTERMATH THEN JUST LMK! I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOYED

If I do write a part two should I make the dad find out and have angst or basically keep it hidden until the reader is old enough to live on her own

PART 2 IS UP AND ITS FLUFF - I don’t know how to link it so bear with me please and just find it, it’s “Little Lady to Little Wife”

#miguel o’hara x you #miguel o #hara smut #miguel smut #miguel o hara #miguel x reader #miguel spiderverse #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel #smut #x reader #x reader smut #x you smut #x you #dads best friend #breeding k1nk #lemon #astv miguel #spiderman astv #astv fanfic #astv

[sukunasdirtylaugh]

tags: gojo x f!reader, bridgerton au. (unedited) word count: 1.29k

it seems as though lady whistledown had taken a liking to you. born out of a prestigious lineage, your name was untainted, holding no negative connotation other than the envy your perfectness shone over anything.

like a porcelain doll, as the queen has once referred to you as on your first visit.

your mother and grandmother before you married as 'pure' with little to no scandals involved, yet it was your mother in her time who caused the biggest uproar in suitors to pursue her. even today, you had grown up with maids, nannies, and people well acquainted with your mother, and your mother at times who would share details over her diamond years. 3, to be exact.

now you felt an obligation to live up to the family name, to honor the work your mother has preserved before you so that you could comfortably live a life with no shame, and you swore that you would do the same for your own children.

if, you decided to bear them.

tonight, you stand in a glorious dress, embedded with the stones your mother and trusted modist claimed to make you look radiant. yet that seemed to be the opposite for you. 4 dances have occurred in your presence and only one man approached to talk to you. the worst thing was that he was unsuitable, and your mother had to intervene, breaking apart the association and taking you to another.

"he was boring," you whisper shouted at your mother who eyed you, aware to not make a scene as you stopped by a secluded balcony. "it seemed everything I told him, he would restate it or make it obvious. it was like talking to myself! if I wanted to, I would have sought company from my mirror."

"how frustrating." you nod in agreement with your mother.

"have all good men gone to waste mama?" you ask, stress and tears welling in your eyes. "If this is the first man I encounter, I cannot bear to think what the rest of them might be like. Or is it I am just ugly?"

"hush, child." your mother holds your shoulders, then cups your cheeks. "you're not acting like yourself tonight. don't let one bad apple ruin your basket. you are young, gifted, and come from a name. you are something because you came from me. have I not taught you well?" she caresses your arm in comfort. "come, wipe those tears that are threatening to fall. you will cause a scandal on your own if you are seen crying tonight. let's find you an honorary man."

that night you only danced with two men. they remained respectful, yet not enough to provoke intrigue in you. though you would never outwardly admit that to your mother, at the end of your second dance, you went for a beverage. opting for some time for yourself.

"I couldn't help but wonder if you were running from that man after that dance, or if the conversation was that good you needed to excuse yourself for a beverage." the voice snickers, standing beside you, "he was terrible, right?"

"I wasn't, I was just dehydrated." you remark, careful with your tone as you defend your doings. as you stand beside him, you cannot see his face as he is taller than you. lifting your head up would raise even more spectacle as you saw one woman and what appeared to be her sister point at you with the mysterious man at your side.

"so do they just dehydrate fair maidens now? seems like a trick to get you to marry the first man you see,"

you don't answer him quick enough.

"lord higurama is a good choice. he has a fair name and a inheritance to obtain, however, be wary of his drinking problem. heard he leaves bars at ungodly hours of the morning with holes in his pockets."

you can't help but gasp softly, almost in disbelief as the man beside you spoke so poorly of the men you danced with. it might have been a given that you needed to get out of here after those girls pointed at you with shock on their faces. have you just ruined your reputation?

"I respectfully fail to see how that is any of your concern, sir." you state, imposing a formal limit, "I have no desire to engage in talk if it pertains to stain the reputation of others."

"please," you hear him snort beside you and you freeze, feeling yourself slightly become smaller. "his reputation is done for. I'd be doing you a favor

"and your reputation, good sir?" you counter, but when you hear silence from him, you fear you have crossed the line. it isn't until you are pulled by mother you see this man. white hair adorns his features while stunning blue eyes decorate his face. the hold your mother has on you let's you know to stand well, and be presentable.

"Lord Gojo," your mother bows, slightly forcing you to bow with her, "what a pleasnt encounter to find you here. my condolences to you and your family after your father's passing."

"lady levington, you are too kind." he man before you bows, offering your mother a charming smile you can't help but hold back a jaw drop at his sudden charming behavior. "I assume you are enjoying your time at the final winter's ball?"

"indeed," your mother smiles charmed, "we were just enjoying our time at the ball. this is my daughter, lady levington. she is of the age to begin looking for a suitor," your mother states, "wouldn't you agree?"

"well I find it difficult to believe that your daughter will struggle to find a suitable partner given her agreeable nature," your jaw slightly clenches, "I suppose you have a large list of eligible bachelor's for your daughter?"

"oh yes," your mother smiles, "but I tell my daughter we must select carefully. it is growing rather difficult to choose an honorable man for marriage, yet modern problems always continue to arise with the passing of time. wouldn't you agree?"

"I couldn't have said it better myself," he smiles, "finding a husband has been growing to be tedious by the years, yet that is why we must be careful in selecting. london is unfortunately filled with lots of ineligible bachelors starting off with lawyers with questionable drinking and spending habits. a poor reflection on our society, wouldn't you agree?"

"it is unfortunate indeed," you mother sighs softly, "but we shall look carefully to ensure a positive outlook for the future."

"that is always a pleasure to hear," smiles gojo, offering a bow. "if you'll excuse me, I must be on my way. it has been a pleasure to find you in good health, madam. and the best of my wishes to your lovely daughter as well."

after some concluding exchanges, your mother stands proudly with a smile on her face. "you will not believe who we just spoke to." she says, moving you away from the drinking station. "we must bid our farewells and leave as soon as possible."

"why?" you frown, "the dance doesn't end until-"

"-we've already met an eligible bachelor," your mother smiles, "you should've seen the look on everyone's faces. you will surely draw attention now, my dear."

the following day, you wake up to the following news from lady whistledown, having written an article about you.

"at the winter's ball, lady levington's beauty could be seen from a mile away, drawing the attention of lords. standing with such poise and grace, lady levington has proved herself to start off as an indestructible force with honor as her first name. will she perhaps be named diamond of the season? or indestructible diamond?"

#okay 3 stories in what feels like 48 hours? what is wrong with me #writers block seems to be lifted from now #but ok ok back to this I LOVE Bridgerton okay? I just had to add lady whistledown #also was gonna add toji in this but im gonna add him gradually #also loved the idea of reader not knowing who gojo really is until the end of the chapter -basically the next #gojo #gojou satoru x reader #jjk #gojo satoru #satoru #jujustu kaisen #gojo headcanons #jujutsu kaisen #satoru gojo #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #jujutsu gojo #toru #jjk satoru #jujutsu kaisen gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jujutsu kaisen satoru

[strawhbrrries]

Three gifts and a kiss

pairing: reader x softish!joel miller

summary: three gifts and a kiss is all it took for you to break the walls around Joel Miller’s heart.

warnings: implied age gap (never mentioned), use of pet names (darlin’), straight fluff, no use of Y/N *please let me know if i forgot anything*

author’s note: this is my first real writing piece, outside of fanfic i wrote on wattpad when i was twelve, so please be kind with criticism! as much as i love smut i was too nervous to write it for my first post so i hope the fluff does justice. i really do hope you enjoy it! *not proofread*

word count: 2145 words

“Shh. Stop your fussing. I am just braiding your hair.” You teased, separating the three strands of hair you were overlapping into more organized strands to work with.

“It hurts!” Ellie whined, laying her head back in your lap to emphasize her point, bringing one her hands up to rub the side of her head to soothe the pain she swore up and down was the worst thing she ever felt.

Ellie was sat on the floor in between your legs reading whatever she had picked up off the end table when she came barging in your house demanding for her hair to be branded, something about how she had never learned and needed to be taught. Which was a big load of bullshit, as proved by the fact you were just braiding her hair and she wasn’t learning shit, well only half a load of bullshit as she truly had never learned. 

Jackson wasn’t necessarily a boring place for you before Ellie and Joel showed up, but it wasn’t the most entertaining either. Bartending has its perks but outside of it, all the days blended together and were a never ending boring hell. The foul mouthed child made your days way more interesting, finding every excuse under the sun to find her way into your home. Not that you minded, but a knock would be nice every now and then. You enjoyed her company more than you expected when Tommy informed you that the empty house next door would be filled. You had actual friends your age, but most had adult responsibilities that started earlier in the day than yours did, besides Ellie being over occasionally meant Joel visiting to bring her home. Those were your favorite days.

The first time you ever met the infamous Joel Miller, is forever ingrained in your mind. His footsteps rattling through the house and the deepness of his voice as he called out for Ellie, you mentally noted that he was the reason she never knocked.

“In here Joel!” Ellie called out from your bedroom just up the stairs, giving you a look that expressed all her frustration of him just showing up.

“C’mon, dinners ready.” His voice carried through the house, not once had he really raised his voice since he showed up. His footsteps on the stairs sent her into a flurry to grab her things and go.

The two finger knock on the door captured your attention, never in your twenty years of living had you seen a man so attractive and he became so much more attractive the second he nodded his head in your direction. You knew it had been a long time when such a simple action made warmth flood your body.

“I’ll see you later, Ellie, hopefully the garden will be a bit more grown in soon so we can mess around in it !” You smiled, smoothing out the shirt you were wearing to try and make yourself more presentable for your unexpected handsome visitor. “It’s Joel, right?” 

“Yeah, sorry it took so long to meet.” He spoke back, no emotion present. You added to your, short, mental notes about the man that he seemed almost robotic.

“‘s okay. Ellie said you’ve been pretty busy, I enjoy having her around. It was nice to meet you!” You spoke enthusiastically to try and elicit a response from him but all he did was nod his head out the door and left with Ellie trailing behind him. A frown and disappointment soon took over the warmth he had originally brought.

Joel never went out of his way to acknowledge you, sure he nodded his head every time you served him at the bar but unlike your other regulars he had no interest in your stories and new recipes.  However, you always went out of your way to acknowledge him in subtle ways; always sending some leftovers home with Ellie, leaving a brand new guitar on his porch after Ellie told you he had broken his other one (admittedly, not your most subtle move), and a record of Linda Ronstadt with the words “I don’t need this back :)” scribbled on a piece of paper taped to it. 

The leftovers he appreciated, not that he ever expressed his gratitude to you about it. They were nice after a long shift on patrol, especially so because he didn’t have to cook nor did he have to interact with people at the mess hall. He spoke more to you, kinder to you, after you started sending leftovers home with Ellie. You found him, much like Ellie, barging in more often and on one occasion found him in your garden inspecting the produce you had planted for the season.

“You’ve got weeds.” He’d mumble, as if he was genius of the year for that observation. “Prolly some bugs too.” Joel placed a hand on his knee and got up off the ground, standing awkwardly as he had previously planned to have been gone before you caught him here. 

“By all means, if you can find insecticide that won’t cost me a fortune I would be forever indebted to you.” A chuckle slipped out at the thought that THE Joel Miller was in your garden going on about weeds. Life was weird sometimes. Your words earned you the first smile you’ve seen from the man, you thought about it every night from then on out. Joel, unbeknownst to you, thought of your giggle and the pretty blue sundress you had been wearing when you stumbled upon him every night.

The guitar, that one stirred up some trouble in the imaginary relationship you thought was going on with you and Mr. Miller. Ellie had come to help you cook and also gossip about Joel, you didn’t mind either, when he came storming in the house. You and Ellie exchanged a knowing look, but neither could’ve predicted the storm that was going to brew.

“Ellie. Go home.” His voice was low and his face mean. Everyone knew Joel Miller was a mean man but to be the person it was directed at, even worse.

“Wha- I’m just helping!” Ellie tried to plead her case, motioning to the half cut vegetables she was cutting.

“Go.” 

Ellie, reluctantly, left which left you with the seething older man standing in your kitchen. Instead of speaking, you simply turned around to the vegetables Ellie just left and started chopping in hopes that maybe he would leave and you didn’t have to be the brunt of whatever anger he had about something you didn’t even know about!

“What did you trade.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement and he expected an answer about point five seconds ago.

“I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.” Also not a question, also a statement, most certainly a lie. You knew exactly what he was asking about, it was an act of kindness and you didn’t want to be scolded for caring about him.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, leaned over the kitchen table that sat in between the two of you and let out a sigh. “Let's cut to the chase, darlin’. What the fuck did you trade. Don’t fuck with me either ‘cus I know you’re smarter than that.” 

“What I did or did not trade for the guitar is not your business, I was being nice, Joel. Hard for you to get used to, I know.” Your words came out a bit harsher than intended, you weren’t trying to be rude all you had intended to do was give him a new guitar after his had broken.

Instead of a rebuttal all you heard was his boots hitting the floor and the slam of your front door. You were too angry to cry, all you had tried to do was be kind. Had he been embarrassed? Embarrassed about what, that someone cares for him? You were too angry to chop, the fear of accidentally cutting off a finger was a bit too real at the moment, so you settled for half the usual vegetables. 

You still put leftovers on his porch. No amount of anger, and sadness for what occurred, would stop you from caring about him. 

He didn’t speak to you for eight days. Never showed up to coax Ellie home. Stopped playing his, new, guitar on the porch. For eight days he gave you the cold shoulder, it sucked. He only caved on the eighth day when he overheard your boss mention you had called out of work three days in a row, he couldn’t figure out why he cared but he did. He knocked on your door four times before you opened it.

“You look like shit.” His words robotic as ever.

“If you came to be rude, leave.” Your response was weak and quiet, your skin pale and visibly clammy. You had stressed yourself sick.

“What happened?” He brought his hand to your forehead and immediately felt the heat, surprised you hadn’t melted yet. 

For the first time in over twenty years, Joel had taken care of someone. He slept in the uncomfortable chair that sat in the corner of your bedroom, refusing the bed or the couch. He reheated meals and even made some of his own to make sure you were fed, and hydrated. For the first time since you met, you felt that he truly cared. He even let his guard down enough to, begrudgingly almost so much he could’ve convinced someone he was forced to do it, lay with you when the blankets weren’t enough to fight off the shivers. Ellie teased him in the privacy of their home that he was developing a crush, and he was.

The Linda Ronstadt record was your most genius idea. When you had first met Ellie, she mentioned a cassette her and Joel listened to when they were first driving out here. You asked for the artist and her exact words were “I don't know. Linda blah blah blah.” The guitar incident was long forgotten so you figured gifts were pretty safe now. A coworker had mentioned trading a few records for some home cooked meals, and the stars aligned so perfectly that one of them happened to be the exact record Ellie had spoken about (or so you hoped). 

Joel frequented your place more often, he found your company more appealing than his own, and you enjoyed it more than you let on. You had Ellie leave the record somewhere in his room to find after his patrol shift. 

The now familiar sound of Joel’s boots hitting the floor as he took them off filled your living room. However, he was supposed to be on patrol and definitely not here in your house holding a Linda Ronstadt record. 

“Darlin’ what’s with the gift?” He asked softly, or as soft as he possibly could. His body finding comfort next to yours on the couch, plucking the note you wrote off the record and tucking it away into the pocket of his flannel.

“Ellie said you liked her, someone at work was gettin’ rid of it. Figured you might like it.” A smile making itself home on your face, he thought it was the prettiest smile he’d ever seen. He’d gone soft.

“I don’t own a record player sweet girl.” 

“You’ll have to visit more then. Or! Let me give you one!” 

“I’ll just let you have it, hopefully the lyrics haven’t left my brain just yet and I can teach ‘em to ya.” He placed the record on the end table next to him and placed a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Can’t believe I was such a hard ass on you, sweetest thing to ever grace my life.”

“I knew you’d come around eventually.” Looking up at him softly and caressing his cheek before placing the gentlest of kisses to his lips. “Thought you were supposed to be on patrol anyway.” 

“Got someone to switch with me after I saw the record, had to come see my girl.” Joel responded, placing a kiss on your lips before trailing his thumb along your bottom lip.

Three gifts and a kiss is all it took for you to break the walls around Joel Miller’s heart. The leftovers no longer found their way onto his porch, as eventually it became your porch and the leftovers found themselves in a new fridge. The guitar was played and used to teach Ellie how to play, you often spent evenings on the porch listening to someone strum it. The record was always on repeat when Joel was home, until he accidentally dropped it on the floor consequently covering it in scratches unable to be played. As for the kisses, they never stopped and each one filled your body with butterflies that could burst out at any moment.

#joel miller #the last of us #the last of us hbo #tlou hbo #joel miller fluff #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #pedro x reader #pedropascal #maddies fics

[juneknight]

The Thing About Marc Spector

About this: for A who asked for dorm room Marc making you squirt. I'm LOOKING at you, @spacecowboyhotch. Fem!reader/Marc Spector. College AU. Fingering, some minor dirty talk, squirting. There's some mention of past ineptitude during sex and once instance of mentioned vomit.

*

You lean against the doorway of the dorm room’s bathroom, eyes squinting in protest of the cheap fluorescent lighting. Inside the bathroom, Marc Spector is thoroughly washing his hands. 

“It’s just not possible for me.” 

Marc hums in acknowledgement. 

“I’m serious. People have tried.” 

“I hear you.” 

“I’ve tried. I just can’t do it.” 

“Alright,” says Marc evenly. He’s already soaped and rinsed his hands once, but he soaps up again, and for some reason the ball of hysteria that has been growing just underneath your breastbone rises up and lodges in your throat at the sight of his thoroughness: washing his palms, the back of his hands, his wrists, between his fingers, under his nails, all while humming happy birthday under his breath the way they likely taught him to in grade school. 

The juxtaposition of a grown man utilizing advice he was given in grade school while he prepares to—attempt!—to make you squirt for the first time is…it’s a lot to take in. 

You reach out and turn off the water, convinced that it might be enough to give you a nervous breakdown. Marc merely turns to the clean towel hanging from the rack and dries his hands carefully. “I said, it can’t be done, Spector.” 

Marc turns to you with raised brows, the most unamused, unaffected look on his face. “You said I could try.” 

And then you are laying down on your bed. He has laid a towel underneath you, ignoring your scowl at his obvious display of confidence. Then he stripped you naked and spent a long time just staring at you, fighting not to smile every time he noticed your displeasure at his slow, patient nature. 

You can’t help but feel exposed in a novel way though Marc has seen every part of your body up close. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s still dressed, that all he’s done is rolled up his sleeves and perched himself on the side of your bed. When he reaches for your thigh, you flinch, expecting his hands to be cold from the water. But Marc took the time to warm the water before scrubbing his hands. Marc always takes his time. 

“You won’t be able to do it.” 

“You’re just talking to yourself at this point,” Marc murmurs, eyes on your tits. He reaches out and tweaks one of your nipples. You slap at his hand, pretending to be offended, pretending like that one measly touch didn’t have your thighs clenching. He smiles at you, reaches out to pin your hand above your head and then plays with the offended nipple, teasing it gently between his fingers. You let out all of your breath in a warm rush, pressing your tongue to the roof of your mouth, determined not to moan. Not yet. 

“That feel good?” he wonders, gently taking the sensitive peak between his thumb and forefinger, worrying it. 

That’s another thing about Marc. Not only does he take his time, but he’s gentle. You’ve seen Marc at his most un-gentle—you’ve seen him beat the shit out of a guy in a bar who was harassing a woman. Once you saw him punch a wall, knuckles cracking through plaster like it was butter. Both of you know that he sometimes has a problem with violence (one that he has been faithfully working to remedy during sessions with an on-campus counselor every Thursday). But Marc has never been anything but infuriatingly gentle to you, even during the most intense sex of your life. 

He lightly pinches you, pulling you from your thoughts. His eyes are on your face, watching you carefully as he switches breasts and begins to tease your neglected nipple. You bite back the moan once again—but it is a very close thing. “I asked if you feel good.” 

“Yeah,” you admit. “Yeah, you always make me feel good.” 

His smile grows a little smug. You roll your eyes. 

He seems content with this: this soft teasing of you. Sometimes he leans down and laps his tongue over your breasts, suckling on one nipple and then the other, but he never even gives you the scrape of his teeth. He spends an inordinate amount of time dragging his fingers over your skin, starting at the dip of your throat, down your sternum, down to your belly, out to your hips, up the curve of your waist, and up the ribcage, biting back a snort every time you giggle when he comes too close to the sensitive skin underneath your arms. 

He hasn’t even touched your pussy and you’re soaked. 

“Come on, Marc,” you sigh. “Thought you were going to make me squirt. It doesn’t come out of my tits, you know.” 

“It doesn’t?” he asks. “Wow, and you’ve just been letting me try for the last fifteen minutes? Now I feel like an idiot.” 

“Touch me already,” you pout, ignoring his humor. 

He hums, considering. This time when he draws the line down your stomach, he lets it trace further and further until he is ghosting the tips of his fingers over the seam of your sex. He barely even touches you, but you shiver, and when he pulls away, his fingertips are wet. 

“This where you want touched?” he wonders, slipping his fingers back between your legs. Finally, a little mercy from him. You part your thighs for him, groaning when he uses both thumbs to spread you open to his eyes. He whistles softly. “Are you sure you didn’t squirt already? Look at all this—you’re soaked.” 

You groan again but for opposite reasons, hiding your face in your hands. Marc laughs and lets you hide, makes a fist with one hand and drags the knuckles up from your entrance to your clit. 

“God, you’re pretty,” he mutters. You hear the sound of him licking your slick off of his knuckles before his fingers are back, gently swirling circles over your clit. 

“Oh fuck, Marc, please,” you whine. 

“What is it? Whatever it is, I’ll give it to you.” 

“I want you inside me. But fuck, I don’t want you to stop doing that.” 

“God gave me two hands, baby. Pretty sure it wasn’t for this, but—” Marc slips two fingers into you, sliding in with ease, with the practiced motion of someone who has fucked you with their fingers a hundred times. He doesn’t bother thrusting them; he knows that sometimes your pussy just likes something to hold on to. 

Your orgasm is just starting to build when you remember why you’re here, what he’s supposed to be trying to do. Your thighs tense, arms tucking in towards your chest even as you keep covering your face. Marc—observant, ever-watchful Marc—notices the change immediately. Now, letting you hide is no longer an option. He wraps his fingers around your wrist and gently coaxes it away, his brows furrowed at the expression on your face. 

“What is it? Change your mind?” 

“What if I can’t do it, though?” you ask. “It’s every guy’s dream, isn’t it? He fingerbangs his girl, there’s a gush like Old Faithful, he feels like a real man. But what if I’m not a real woman? What if I can’t?” 

Marc’s face twists into a look of absolute confusion. “Baby—all due respect here—but what the fuck.” 

“I’m serious!” you shriek. He catches your hand when you go to lightly slap him on the chest, giving you a look of paternal disapproval that definitely should not have you clenching your thighs together. You’ll consider the pretext for that in therapy at a future date. His other hand—fingers still wet from being inside you—rises to your lips and taps. You open and take them into your mouth, sucking softly, shoulders relaxing. 

“I don’t care if you can’t squirt. I’m a real man, and you’re a real woman, whether geysers are involved in our sex or not. I don’t care about any of that weird, macho shit, baby. I never have. Just let me make you feel good—if you want me to.”

Another thing about Marc: he always knows what to say. 

Around his fingers, you nod. 

“That’s my girl,” he says, pulling his fingers free. He doesn’t bother wiping them off—not when he’s tucking them right back into your cunt. 

He begins those soft, quick circles over your clit again. His eyes move between your face to your heaving tits to where his fingers move and back again, a constant cycle. When you reach up and palm your breasts, you can hear the sound of his breath catching, feel the way his fingers flex inside you. 

Slow and so, so soft: he begins to stroke at the front wall of your pussy. Your legs jump. This is always your least favorite part. Popular theory be damned, plenty of men seem to know where the g-spot is, but many consider it a button poised for repeated hammering, like one of those bells you’re meant to ring to get customer service. You’ve always been sensitive. It’s one of the reasons why Marc is so gentle with you. But in the past, men looking to make you squirt have treated their fingers like battering rams and the walls of your pussy like the vault door to Fort Knox. 

You force yourself to take a deep breath, relaxinging incrementally when his fingers never increase in force. The soft touches against that most tender spot have your legs jerking every now and then, involuntary spasms as if he’s zapping you with electricity. But with time, you get used to them. With more time, it comes to feel good, especially when he changes the direction of the circles he’s making on your clit. Counter-clockwise. Nice. 

But how’s he going to make you squirt like this? How’s he going to unlock that mysterious, mythical part of your anatomy that you’ve read so much about in Cosmopolitan if he’s only whispering into the keyhole? 

“Shouldn’t you be a little—more?” 

Marc stops. “Is this not good?” 

“No, it’s good—great, I just—” he begins to move again at your approval, and the sensation cuts off your words abruptly. You swallow hard, realizing you have stopped touching your breasts and are just cupping them as if for comfort. Trying to mimic his touch from earlier, you gently begin to tease yourself, a whine growing at the back of your throat. 

“There you go,” Marc murmurs. “So fucking pretty. Look at you.” 

“Ma-arc.” 

He hums. 

Your chest rises and falls faster. He changes directions on your clit again and you groan, the sound pulled from deep in your throat. God, he might not make you squirt, but he’s sure as hell going to make you cum, and it’s going to be good. He continues a litany of filthy praises, talking about how soft and wet you feel around his fingers, how hot you get him when you play with your own tits, how you’re such a good fucking girl. 

But—:“Marc, I can’t do it. I can’t squirt.” 

“Then don’t,” is all he says, eyes on your pussy. Your orgasm is welling up inside you, a ball of knots being pulled tighter and tighter low in the pit of your stomach. Your toes keep curling and uncurling. For some reason, you need to repeat yourself, you need to make him understand.

“I said, Spector, I can’t squirt.” 

“I said, Then. Don’t.” 

The feeling grows, swells, deepens and—

You gasp, pushing yourself up onto your elbows. “Oh my god, get away from me, I have to pee.” 

“No you don’t,” he says, unconcerned with your panic.

“Marc Elias—” 

“Wow, going for the full name,” he mutters distractedly, eyes never leaving his hands where they work you over. 

And fine. Fine. You warned him—and at least it won’t be the worst bodily fluid of yours he’s had on him, not since your twenty-first birthday when he took you bar hopping and you threw up all over him while he was trying to help you wash your face clean of makeup in the dorm bathroom. If he wants you to piss on him, he’s going to fucking get it. 

Your eyes fall down to where his hands are, and for some reason the sight of the tendons in his wrist flexing as he rubs that tender spot inside you is too much. It’s too much for you. The feeling in your belly sinks lower and you realize he was right. 

You aren’t about to pee, you’re about to cum. 

Marc pulls his fingers free just as your cunt clenches tight. It’s different from any orgasm you’ve felt before—the way it rushes out of you, what it takes out of you, the absolute silence it instills in you as your throat closes tight, eyes wide, entire body spasming. When at last you can take in air again, it’s just to shout, eyes squeezing shut as his fingers on your clit coax another orgasm out of you. Squirt just drips out of you this time, but the relief is so fucking deep. You can barely hear the sound of his filthy praises over the rush of blood in your ears and the constant babble of your own voice which you can no longer seem to control. 

When you can take it no more, you reach for his wrist. He stops touching your clit right away, moving his hand to rest gently on your stomach. 

There is a moment of endless silence, both of you staring at each other with wide eyes. Marc reaches up with his less soaked hand and smooths his hair back the way he does when he’s anxious or upset or completely mind blown. You can guess which one he’s feeling right now. 

He clears his throat. “I’ll give you fifteen minutes. Then we’re doing that again.” 

“What?” 

He stands up, pats you on the side of your knee like he’s patting another guy’s shoulder in the quad, Nice catch, Chad, go long. Marc fucking Spector. That’s the thing about him. He’s kind of incredible. 

All he says is: “Fifteen minutes!” 

#marc spector x reader

[cookybananas]

This Wasn't The Plan (Former!Anakin Skywalker x Reader)

Angsty. Spoiler alert: main character dies

-

When an old friend reaches out to you asking for help, but the mission doesn't go as planned.

This is set 9 years after the events of Revenge of the Sith. Your former lover, Anakin Skywalker, has turned to the dark side and had become a Sith Lord by the name of Darth Vader. But you don't know that. You believed in Obi-Wan's lie that Anakin had died on Mustafar and that the Republic had fallen into the hands of the Sith Lord, Darth Sidious who had created the Empire. The hunt for surviving Jedi ensues. This forces you and Obi-Wan to go your separate ways and into hiding to protect yourselves from the inquisitors who are on the hunt for the both of you.

---

I packed some rations in my bag, the last thing I needed before heading out. I looked at my lightsaber that was on my bed, deciding if I should bring it or not. After putting some thought to it, I sigh to myself, clipping it to the belt of my old Jedi robe I was currently wearing. I set out to meet up with Obi Wan at the coordinates he had sent me. It had been 9 years since I had seen my good friend. I didn't think he would ever contact me again, especially through the force. But apparently this was an urgent matter.

Obi-Wan told me there wasn't much information given to him when he reached out to me. Apparently he had gotten a holographic message from an unknown individual, saying that there were some former Jedis needing our help on the planet of Kashyyyk. I was hesitant at first about the mission, but he convinced me to come along with him. Plus, it's not like I had anything better to do with my life. I was a scavenger, I tore apart ships and weapons from the Empire and resold the parts to make a living off of them. I didn't earn much, but it was enough to keep me alive.

The Jedi had fallen years ago from Order 66. My masters, my fellow Jedi who I had trained with, the younglings whom I taught, most of them didn't make it from the purge--they were all killed. Anakin, the love of my life was killed right before the Empire had rose to power, I lost my best friend; Padme. Obi-Wan and I had gone our separate ways and went into hiding. Just when we thought everything was going well at the time, that glory had dissolved as if it were nothing.

There have been many times I had cried myself to sleep at the thought of losing Anakin. Part of me still believes that he's alive somewhere in the star system and part of me wants to believe what Obi-Wan has told me; that Anakin is truly dead and that I need to move on to live for myself. As much as I wanted to reach out through the force to him, I couldn't. I was worried that an inquisitor was nearby and could sense me. Or worse, the belligerent Darth Vader who has been in a pursuit of killing Jedi since they had they had fallen. I had to close myself off the force many years ago. Now that Obi-Wan needs me, this puts the both of us at risk of falling into the hands of the Empire and Darth Vader.

-

"It's good to see you again my old friend." Obi-Wan said, embracing me into a tight hug, to which I happily returned. Obi-Wan aged quite a bit the last time I saw him. The wrinkles around his eyes were prominent now, his beard grown out and untamed.

"And you as well Obi. Maker...it's been so long." I said, getting a little teary-eyed at our little reunion. Obi-Wan looked at me with sad eyes, nodding in agreement.

"Well, we have a long way to Kashyyyk, that should give us time to catch up Y/N." He gave me a small smile, as we made our way into his small ship, setting course to Kashyyyk to help our Jedi brothers and sisters.

"Do you have a plan?" I spoke up, breaking the long period of silence between us. Obi-Wan scoffed at my question.

"Well of course I do Y/N, you didn't think I would go in blindly would you?" He replied, smiling to himself. I snorted at his response, reminding me the many memories I have of him, Anakin, and I back in the days of the Clone Wars. Anakin and I were the ones that would go guns-blazing in during missions. Obi-Wan would always be the person coming up with the plans beforehand, to which sometimes Anakin and I did follow, sometimes.

Obi-Wan runs over the plan with me. The coordinates that he was provided had given us a location at a base in the lush forests of Kashyyyk. Apparently that's where the Jedi are said to be located. Once we land, we would split up to find any remaining Jedi and relocate them back to Alderaan. Obi-Wan had been in touch with Bail Organa since the fall of the Republic and had informed him about this mission.

The ship lands on an empty landing pad that was located outside the entrance of what looked like an abandoned temple. Obi-Wan and I exit out the ship, taking a look around our surroundings.

"I've got a bad feeling about this" I spoke up, scanning the environment.

"Meet me back here in an hour. If you can find any Jedi, we'll relocate them to Alderaan." Obi-Wan said.

"Sounds good to me." I responded. We both make our way into the temple, going separate ways once we enter.

-

The Sith Lord stands tall as he gazes at the stars through the windows of the ship. He ponders to himself, when all of sudden he felt something in the force. Assuming that the presence was belonging to his former master, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Vader smiles to himself for being able to finally have Obi-Wan walk into his trap after what he had done to him all those years ago. But then he felt the pull become stronger and stronger by the moment. No... it can't be, the Sith Lord thinks to himself. It couldn't possibly be her. Y/N... You died 9 years ago. The remnants of your ship were in pieces when he had searched for you. You couldn't have survived the impact at the state of ship he found it in. When Anakin--Vader, had found the japor snippet that he had given you was on the ground, it pushed him further to believe that you had died on impact. He believed your clones got to you when Order 66 occurred. He blamed himself for causing your death. You deserved a better fate. But at the same time, he didn't want you to see what he had become.

Vader pushed his thoughts to the side. Still believing that you had died all those years ago.

-

A good amount of time had passed. I wasn't sure how long it had been but it surely has been over an hour. I hadn't seen any Jedi yet, yet alone any traces of any Jedi being here. Something isn't right, I know it isn't because the force has been trying to tell me something since we landed.

I felt another presence in the force. It didn't feel like it was Obi-Wan. I froze in place, hearing footsteps in the distance; becoming closer and closer to me. I turn around, igniting my lightsaber as I was met with an inquisitor standing behind me with their double-bladed lightsaber already ignited.

"Well, well, you're not definitely Kenobi. But I'll gladly take you in as well." The inquisitor said, stepping closer to me as I took a step back. I wasn't fit to fight them. It had been years since I last fought with my lightsaber. Without thinking, I immediately turned around and ran away from the inquisitor. I took out my comlink to get a hold of Obi-Wan as I ran to find the exit.

"OBI-WAN, IT'S A TRAP!!" I yelled into the comlink, but I was met with static in response. The connection wasn't strong, perhaps the inquisitors had intercepted our communication or the connection on Kashyyyk just wasn't as good.

I found myself in what looked like an abandoned throne room. I hid myself behind the throne, trying to catch my breath as I tried to disconnect my force signature so the inquisitor wouldn't find me as easily. I cursed myself for agreeing to come along with Obi-Wan on this fallacious mission.

As the footsteps of the inquisitor drew nearer and nearer to the room. I overheard the inquisitor's voice, as if they were talking to someone else. I peaked my head over the throne to see the inquisitor in the doorway talking to a holographic figure on their wrist.

"Lord Vader, it's important that you know that not only one Jedi has fallen into your trap but two." The inquisitor said boastfully, holding up a hologram of Lord Vader.

"Very well inquisitor. Locate them now. I will deal with Kenobi and his friend accordingly. I want them alive." Lord Vader's mechanical voice booming through the hologram.

"Yes my lord." The inquisitor turns off the hologram, scoffing to themselves and kicking a pebble off the ground. "Why do they matter to you this much?" the inquisitor says under his mouth.

I held my breath, hoping that the inquisitor doesn't walk into the room I'm in. When I don't see them in the door way I make a run towards the door, only to be stopped by the inquisitor.

"Nice try, but I have orders to follow Jedi scum." the inquisitor spat at me, blocking the doorway. I furrow my eyebrows, igniting my lightsaber again.

"You won't take me alive."

"I wish I didn't have to, but I have orders from Lord Vader himself." the inquisitors says before swinging their double-bladed lightsaber. Our lightsabers clashing with one another. I try catching my breath as I fight the inquisitor, but the 9 years without fighting, has made me lose some abilities in my Jedi skills.

"I see the years have not been kind to you. You're out of shape grandma." the inquisitor comments. I grunt in response and roundhouse kick the inquisitor, sending them flying across the room. The inquisitor gets back on their feet again and darts towards me.

Just when I think I can take them down, the inquisitor's blade makes contact with my shoulder. I cry out in pain as I'm thrown off balance. I step back, grasping my shoulder that was just cut. The cut was bright red and burning.

The inquisitor laughs at my pathetic state. Determined to take down this inquisitor, I run towards them with my saber. I was able to dodge their first swing, but on the second swing, the inquisitor's blade had found itself impaled through my stomach. I let out a gasp. The inquisitor looking surprised at themselves at what they did.

The inquisitor draws their blade back. My saber falls out of my hand and rolls away from me as my body hits the ground. I clutch the part of my stomach where I had been just stabbed.

I try to control my breathing as I watched as the inquisitor walk out the room without saying a word to me. The building starts rumbling, as if it was starting to crumble down.

Then next thing I know, I see Obi-Wan running into the room, running up to me.

"Y/N!" Obi-Wan kneels down and cradles me in his arms. He brushes a strand a hair away from my face, his hand now holding one of my hands.

"Y/N stay with me now. I'm gonna get you out of here." Obi-Wan looks at me and looks down at my wound. His eyes were filled with panic with the hole inside my stomach.

"O-Obi Wan, you have to go." I said weakly, looking at him.

"I won't leave you here Y/N." He responded, squeezing my hand and body tightly.

"Y-you'll die here." I said as the building starts to crumble piece by piece. Pieces of stone and debris falling from the ceiling.

"Don't say such nonsense, we have to go" He pleaded.

"Obi-Wan...My place is here.. and... he's here...I can sense him." I breathe out. The hole in my stomach making it harder for me to breathe.

Obi-Wan's eyes widen. He knew he was here as well. Obi-Wan was about to lift me off the ground until I spoke up.

"Leave me here Obi-Wan...Get out of here...S-save..your..self" I huffed out my last breath.

-

Your body goes limp in the arms of Obi-Wan. The last thing you saw was a dark figure, watching from the doorway before your body succumbed to your injury. Vader... You whispered under your final breath before dying in the arms of Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan lets out a strangled cry. He closes your eyelids as the feeling of guilt creeps up on him. But the mourning over his good friend was short-lived. Obi-Wan freezes in place as he feels Vader's presence nearby. When he looked up, he saw the Sith Lord standing by the doorway, menacingly. Obi-Wan, lays your body down on the cold stone floor, now towering over your body to square up with the Sith Lord.

Vader who had been watching the entire situation unravel, his breathing became heavier as he starts to hyperventilate. Causing the temple to shake even more, pieces of the temple fell down around them. He had felt you, he felt your pain. Your first cry was enough to have the Sith Lord come and look for you, but your second cry was enough for him to feel the amount pain you were in.

"What have you done?!" Vader's mechanical voice barked, echoing through the room.

"This was your doing Anakin!" His former master retorted. Vader slowly makes his way over to him, striding menacingly to where Obi-Wan and your lifeless body was.

Obi-Wan backs up away from Vader. Vader kneels next your body and touches the nape of your neck to find a pulse to confirm that you weren't dead, but it was too late. He clenched his fist and lets out a booming cry. Obi-Wan couldn't see it, but he was crying under the mask. The building continue to shake more under his agony.

"Leave. Now." He said, glancing back up at his former master. Obi-Wan was hesitant at first, but soon nodded in response and made his way out of the crumbling building towards his ship.

Vader scooped up your body and carried you bridal style out of the building, making sure to give you a proper burial once he landed on a planet worthy of your funeral. As he makes his way out, he and Obi Wan look at each other one last time before Obi-Wan takes off in his ship.

Vader boards his ship, laying your body down on the table. He takes off his helmet, revealing his long blonde locks and handsome face that were still in pristine condition. He examines your face for sometime. Forgetting how beautiful you were. The years have not been kind to you. He noticed how your cheekbones are more prominent now, perhaps due to lack of food and having to remain in hiding. He brushed your hair with his gloved hand and started whispering all the things he wanted to tell you. He wanted to start a family with you after the war was over, but it is far too late for that now. He wanted to raise his family on Naboo, or Alderaan. The life he dreamt with you, had diminished the day he founds the remains of your ship.

He started to feel guilty for being the reason of causing you a great deal of suffering and now, he was now the reason for your death. He sat next to your body and had held your left hand that still bore the wedding ring he made for you. You both had gotten secretly married on Naboo, just right after the Clone Wars had begun.

After a good amount of time had passed, Anakin--Vader had eventually gotten up from his seat and took off his cape to cover your body with it.

This wasn't how the mission was supposed to go. He didn't expect you to be here, let alone be alive. All he wanted was his revenge on Kenobi, but little did he know that you would be caught in the middle of it.

The guilt that Obi-Wan had felt was unbearable at first. He wished he didn't rope you into this mission. He didn't think for one second that this could have been a trap for himself and for the both of you. Obi-Wan lives out his days with a heavy heart for being the reason you died.

Vader spends the next several years alone, wondering about the day he will kick the bucket. It isn't until one day, a new hope emerges and relieves from him the dark side. Where he would redeem himself and be reunited with you as your force ghost had waited a long time for him to join you in the afterlife. Together, you both spend an eternity together without having to suffer ever again.

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