#but they still had a world to help grow alongside their children

[kneelingshadowsalome]

FATUM NOS IUNGEBIT 1/4

(König x F!Reader)

Summary: You have seen him in your dreams. The seer has divined his coming. But nothing has prepared you for witnessing him in the flesh. (Historical AU where König fights for the Roman Empire in an auxiliary unit, finds a cute barbarian woman and decides to keep her as his own.) Word count: 5.3 k Tags/warnings: 18+ ONLY. Spoils of war/enemies to lovers trope, graphic depictions of violence, historical gruesomeness, pining, odd banter, mixed feelings, romantic fluff, dubcon cuddling, eventual smut. Captor/captive dynamic. König is a brutal warrior... and a gentle giant. A/N: Lol what now? König dual wields 2 swords, goes Mike Tyson on his enemies, teaches his captive girl constellations in German, cuddles her and feeds her grapes, buuut mainly just tries to get into her pants (which historically did not exist at the time) A bit of a slow burn, but don't worry, they'll bang eventually ^^

AD 90, somewhere in the untamed frontiers of the Roman Empire…

The end of the world is here.

Not only have the crops failed for two years in a row, making chieftains beggars and beggars food for the fish, but now there are rumours that the god of war has arrived to destroy the land. The accursed Romans had turned their eagle gaze back to your land after years of sending their troops elsewhere, making it seem like they were not interested in your distant land after all. Untamed, they called it, harsh and barren and therefore inferior – your lush, abundant, beautiful land. No doubt they spat on it in their war councils because your roads were not paved, because your crops and villages were modest, and the women sometimes fought alongside men. Their storytellers immortalized false tales about you, calling you barbarians, but the only barbarians you could think of were the Romans themselves – crude, filthy and boorish creatures, drowning in wine and shit in their cities.

Rumours started to get fat and distressed when the troops approached your village. They said there was a giant at the head of the army, that the Romans followed a Titan's son who loved to eat men, torture women and impale children. They said he didn't accept proper food but preferred to eat his fallen enemies, washed his weapons with the blood of children, and split captured women apart with his cock, as long and sharp as his sword. They told that the Titan ordered his soldiers to poison the wells and destroy the growing crops with salt and vinegar. The rumours said that his tent was bigger than any chieftain's house and that he still struggled to stand at full height inside it. 

Even the land itself seemed to bow before him. Good weather followed his conquest wherever he went; ambushes failed, scouts got caught and tortured, exposing more villages to pillage and ruin. Your brother told you to flee the village, but how could you survive without your clansmen? You didn't know how to hunt; you barely knew how to fish. Your task in the village was to gather clams from the shore, dye wool and help the old Seer. How long could you survive on sorrels and clams alone?  

. . .

The old woman calls you to see her on the brink of war, and tells you to prepare for a ceremonial offering. Two horses, black as night if possible, brown at the very least, to appease the Great Mother of the Earth and quench her thirst for blood. If the Mother is satisfied with your offering, She will perhaps stop the approaching army or convince the Titan to leave your village alone.

She does a small rite before you, and you need to stay with her through her visions. You hate the smell of the leaves she burns, and try to cover your nose with your tunic to prevent breathing in the bitter fumes. The seer looks like she’s just lying herself down to sleep, but it’s always a burden when the spirits arrive and she starts to talk. You turn your back on her to coax them to rise: a mortal stare annoys the chthonic ones. You nearly fall asleep too as you wait, wanting nothing more than to go back to your own hut and have a good night’s sleep. Perhaps because you’re lousy tonight, and less vigilant as you should be, the spirits arrive sooner than either of you thought.

“He’s strong,” the seer croaks from the earthen bed, and you fight the urge to turn around and peek at the old woman, currently in the clutches of spirits. 

“Invincible… Hungry... The horses…won’t suffice…”

She drifts someplace else, and you try to memorize every word, every intonation, as cryptic or as simple as they are, for later interpretation.

“I see you,” she says in a slightly more cheerful tone, which is odd because the old woman is never happy or satisfied, no matter how bright the sun shines or how much food there is in the storages and pits.

“Me?” You dare to speak even though you’re not allowed to disturb the spirits. You could slap yourself for blurting out a single word, but luckily, the hungry ones don’t attack you for your insolence.

“You.. will be his downfall,” she speaks as if you are having a conversation here. “Be there. When he arrives.”

“...Be there? Why?” You dare to utter again, more concerned about what the Mother implies than the potential fury of some lowly earthen spirits. You haven’t got the faintest clue about what She might be suggesting. Why do you have to participate in the battle? How can you be there without getting killed? You’re not a warrior… The Mother has it all wrong. 

Suddenly, you curse the night, you curse the whole day, knowing your brother’s late proposal was perhaps a warning, a hint from the gods to leave, and leave quickly.

The old woman laughs dryly on the ground - the throaty, outright sick cackle makes you flinch. 

You don’t like this... You don’t like this at all.

“Mother. What must I do?” You demand to know, thinking about how all the gods, spirits, old women, and Titans should go to hell.

“Become a tree,” the old woman offers as if it’s the easiest thing to do. “A flower. Me...”

. . .

You become a marten first, then a bird. Then perhaps a tree.

You climb a spruce and wait there. You wait until the sunrise; you wait until noon. You wait until you see the glint of the Roman spearheads and hear the sound of their march.

You’ve dreamed of the Titan ever since you left the seer’s hut. You’ve dreamed of him slaying everyone in the village; you’ve dreamed of him driving a thick spear into the ground and grabbing you with an intent to raise you into the air and impale you on it. You’ve dreamed of him behind you, above you, inside you. You wake up one morning only to see that half of the people have left. You don’t know where they have gone, and you can’t follow them even if you did because the old woman waits for you in front of her hut and gives you a nod the instant you walk into another beautiful, sunny day.

That’s why you’ve turned into a branch in a tree, but for what purpose, you have no idea. You can’t understand why you must be here to witness the world’s end.

Your men scream and shout and roar as they crash into the thick forest of spears. The enemy is silent: it’s eerie, how the world burns and falls into ruin around you, people are screaming; everyone who has a soul and a heart is screaming for Mother as they die, but the men behind the Roman shields refuse to emit a sound. They don’t curse or shout or summon their gods; they simply stand their ground and pant mist into the air as wave after wave of men break on their shields and die before their feet. Somebody loses his spear because it gets stuck between your clansman’s ribs, but the Roman simply draws his sword in its stead: it’s the only sound among the pitched wails that cut through the forest – the cold, clear ring of a gladius being pulled from its sheath.

That is why you flinch at the sound of the first shout, a brutish command that sends all the shields to the side, only to present more shields: the Romans switch positions in their formation as if they’re not even human beings like the rest of you, just a single enormous creature made of iron and leather and bone, operating it's flat forest of weapons.

And then you see him: the giant of your dreams, the hungry titan everyone has told you about. He rises from the tide of helmets like a summoned god, concealed as one of the soldiers and only now revealing his true nature. He stands at least two heads taller than the rest, pushes his own soldiers to the side and breaks out of the formation these vicious Romans love so much. You knew he would be strong and big, but you didn't know he refused to show his face… You wonder what kind of a monster hides behind the black cloth with nothing but two eye holes ripped on it. As if this man needed the additional effort to stand out from other soldiers...

He's like a God of War, just like the survivors said: his armour is of Roman design, but the amount of metal that had to be scraped together to cover this man's shoulders and chest must've demanded a fortune in gold. He doesn't seem to care about the Roman ways, however: he throws his shield away as soon as he's out of the cumbersome formation as if he has carried it only as a decoration up until this point. He draws another sword in its stead – if any other man did such a stupid thing, traded his shield for a weapon, you would snort. But not now.

Standing between the Romans and your clansmen like a challenge, a threat, a deity, even the men possessed by the seer's blood spells hesitate to approach him. But when they do, the god unleashes carnage: the first warrior gets his stomach slashed open, and the two thick swords look like toothpicks when wielded by this man. A stomach wound is a gruesome, slow way to die - but just before the warrior's entrails spill to dangle between his feet, the brute grants him mercy by sweeping his head off with a single blow of his gladius. 

A roar finally rises from your enemy: they cheer Death on as the head of your neighbour meets the mud next. The soil is already soaked in blood, but the Mother is hungry still. The forest booms with Her bloodlust as the god moves around like a slow tempest of muscle, metal and darkness: he breaks every Roman rule by fighting as his own man instead of demeaning himself as one of them, a lowly part of this odd metal beast before you. He sends a limb flying in the air with a swing of a sword; he uses the same weapon as a bludgeon to bash in someone's skull. He crushes a man's chest simply by sinking down onto one knee, breaking bone, tendon and flesh to splinters as a whole ribcage gets crushed under his massive weight. 

Warriors flee before him, they fall under the combined wrath of the Mother and the Titan's sword. The dead seem to fall eternally, along with your heart, before meeting the ground with a hollow thud. 

Your chieftain is among the last men standing, meeting this unstoppable foe with admirable courage. Not having succumbed to the spells of bloodlust in years, he meets his death as a seasoned but old warrior. With his fighting years behind him, your chief doesn't have a chance against this man, but you have to grant the beast a feather's worth of honour, because he recognizes your chieftain as the veteran he is and salutes him with his sword. Then he proceeds with the bloodbath: flinging your leader's sword and axe easily to the side, he walks straight into his arms like he would into a hug, grabs him by the waist, and raises him into the air like he's nothing but a child. 

Your scream never leaves your lungs as you watch how the Titan raises the draping cloth from his face, just enough to sink his teeth into your beloved chieftain’s neck. The noise that erupts from your elder is not that of a man but a tortured animal. It’s not from this world, what you witness next: the giant tears a hunk of flesh from your chief like he’s a piece of roasted meat. Blood streams forth, his screams fade away all too slowly, and you hear your own weak wail in the air as the Titan lets go of the heap that used to be a strong male and a wise leader. 

Your chieftain is dead; his essence spills to the earth in spurts to appease the God of War, who spits blood and flesh to the ground, making you gag into the cold spring air. 

Then he raises his swords towards the sun, and the forest erupts into a roar with him: the thundering, ear-splitting cheer from his warriors makes the very earth quake beneath your tree. It seems to shake the branches of the forest, and before you know it, the giant’s howl of triumph breaks the one you’re curled around, and you fall, fall, fall into the mud beneath you. 

You're not a tree anymore. No: you’re very much a human woman there in the dirt as the sound of shouting ceases like a distant dream. 

And he turns. 

Death turns.

Mother always said you were a curious creature, which is perhaps why you search for his eyes, even though you should be running. She also said you were a smart one, which is why you know that running is futile. Your limbs wouldn’t carry you far anyway. It is a cruel joke from the gods to have what little strength you have left pour out of you into the ground and up to the feet of the enemy who is already strong, both in body and in will.

The Titan looks at you with genuine wonder, a curiosity that surpasses your own. To your odd thrill, you find that his eyes are blue: the same blue of the sea which you used to collect delicious clams from. 

The soldiers behind him shift with lust – their gear clinks as they devour you with unbridled hunger. The Titan is the only one who looks at you like you’re simply a cute little squirrel who happened to fall from a tree right there at his feet. Then his eyes drop to your breasts, and the familiar hunger that lives in men gives the ocean of his eyes a clouded look. When his stare finds yours again, he's a different man: the treacherous beast of your dreams.

You had hoped for a swift death… Violent but quick. But it’s clear that it’s not death he has in store for you as he takes a step towards you. It’s not a quick nor a slow death; it’s not death at all, because–

No.

No.

You’d rather have your arms torn off and fed to the Romans rather than have him thrust the sword between his legs, his third weapon, inside you. If you’re going to die screaming, it will not happen on your back; you will not amuse this beast with your womanhood and tears.

You scramble forward to pick up something, anything: a bronze dirk from a fallen warrior. The giant’s eyes fall on the sad excuse of a weapon, then on the sorry excuse of you. He thinks you’re planning to fight him with that thing, and the corners of his eyes crease a little from the prospect of having to subdue you. You’re proving to be quite the entertainment, and you curse those eyes, looking so kind and lively when just moments ago, the same eyes were inhuman and possessed. His are the eyes of a wayfarer, a wanderer, not a soldier: you catch a hint of sadness in them and curse again.

He’s not human, you remind yourself and show him what actual humans are made of. What women are made of. You give him another name, Giant, because you’ve always feared giants and hated the stories about them. Dumb and reckless creatures they are, stupid destroyers who always place their trust in their size. You never meant to fight him, and he only catches up on it as you turn the dagger towards yourself and guide it to point straight at your heart. 

You will be his downfall, just like the seer said.

“Nein–Warte,” the Giant speaks his first words, surprisingly soft to belong to a man like him. 

The sorrow in his stare consumes you in full now. It gushes forth like a tide, causing your breath and hands to shake when they need to be stern. You straighten your spine, jut your chin forward, and call for Mother: you don’t even know if you’re yelling for your bearer, or the Great Mother, or the earth that gives life to all. Perhaps you call them all to gather around and witness your sacrifice, higher in price than any of the Titan’s offerings combined. The blood you’re about to spill onto the soil will surely appease the land and raise it to arms to finally fight against this beast. 

He says something else just before you pull the blade back to strike it into your chest, and you curse for the third time in your mind: giants aren’t supposed to move that fast; they aren’t supposed to interfere in your last ritual. 

But the worst of it is that even when he finally subdues you, even as he wrestles the blade away from you, he ends up drawing a large gash on his forearm… As if he is trying his best to protect you from accidentally cutting yourself.

. . . 

You are brought to his tent, screaming. 

It’s not as big as a chieftain’s house; it’s barely the size of yours. But it is larger than the tents you saw when you got carried there: as a spitting, screeching, hissing package of what these brutes would no doubt consider a true barbarian woman with uncivilized manners and a fuckable cunt. They will talk about you around their campfires tonight: about you getting broken in by their true commander. It’s enough to satisfy them for now: to imagine their champion to fuck you bloody and sore. And who knows: perhaps they’ll receive the scraps if the Titan gets tired of you.

The precious dagger is somewhere in the mud, probably trampled there like it’s nothing but a piece of worthless metal. Your own trampling is only about to begin as the Giant marches into his abode and sends the men away, giving you uneasy looks in the process, perhaps checking if any of them had enough time to have a go at you. Luckily for him, you’re in the same condition as he left you: legs together, safe and pretty, because he bound them with a rope along with your hands. You are nothing but a delivery, thrown on the floor of dirt and a few animal skins. He just nods at you, happy to acknowledge that you are untouched by the others, as if it would somehow be worse for you to be raped by ten of those petite men than be raped by him: a cruel, bloodthirsty Giant with a giant cock. 

Your ankles and wrists get sore as you watch him doff his armour. He takes off the helmet, the belted straps, the segmented plates of his shoulder guards and the heavy Roman cuirass. The gods have truly favoured this man, not only gifting him tremendous height but insurmountable strength too. His muscles are large and lean and quiver with latent power as he moves; his back is so broad it almost competes with the wide mouth of the tent. He doesn’t seem to suffer from the cold either, but he keeps his mask on for whatever ghastly reason. Even if there is a monster under that mask, his body speaks of virility: he’s a man in his prime, a giant at his strongest, making you feel like an elf, a tiny little creature in the feet of this man who must be descended from titans indeed.

You continue to watch as he washes his hands in a small basin, cleans his mouth and neck, too. You reckon the water in that bowl is blood red and dark when he finally dries himself with a white cloth. He stands before you in nothing but his mask and the dark red tunic he had under the armour. He ties it from the waist with a simple leather belt, and it only now makes sense to you why Roman soldiers dye their clothes red: you’re pretty sure you can still see the darker spots on the hem of that tunic, the ones that used to be the lifeblood of your clansmen and kin.

He has the audacity to ask you - wordlessly - to clean his wound, the one you caused him. He sets you free from your bounds, and you are given fresh water and another cloth. He even opens a smallish wooden box of salve that has a familiar smell to it: pine tar and honey, used by your people to treat minor wounds and prevent bad spirits from getting into the wound. You wonder how he even knows about such a balm: is this warrior a Roman at all, or is he some odd creature hauled from the edges of the world to fight for them? You wonder if he has made the salve himself, extracted the tar from the pine and foraged the wax and honey himself, then cursed with his coarse language when he got stung by multiple bees…

You drive away the thoughts that threaten to make this brute human by snorting at his injury. The damage he gave to himself when he tried to guide the blade away from you at the price of his own blood. 

It still troubles you that he did it. Even a tiny wound like this can bring any man down if it starts to fester. The cold winds and rains of spring can easily get into the gash and make it rot. 

The idea of this giant being forced to his knees because of some filthy dagger wielded by a squirrel of a woman makes you smile inside. It would be a fitting fate for this man. But the vision also makes your heart sting. The thought of him dying of a simple flesh wound, alone and far away from his home, makes your heart grow kinder than it should. 

You decide there is nothing you can do but treat his arm, strong and scarred from previous battles. He sits down while you get to stay on the ground, and you try to ignore it that your face is now level with his groin. He sits with a wide spread in those powerful thighs, and you wonder if it's because the rumours about his cock are true. You keep your eyes everywhere else except the hem of that tunic and what's going on under there. He purrs at your touch, making it clear that it doesn't need much more than your soft fingertips to get him hard after a triumphant day on the field of battle. 

The wound is not deep, but you clean it carefully, trying to ignore the way his eyes seem to bore into you as you take care of him. Your hand is somewhat steady as you treat the damage with the nice-smelling salve, but you flinch as his hand suddenly meets your cheek. You look up at him, heart plummeting, thighs instinctively pressing together from the gentle way with which he cups your face.

“Schön,” he says, again with a tender voice and an adoring, almost worshipful stare. You don’t have a clue what he’s saying, but you know now for sure that it's not the tongue of the Romans he speaks. The scent of pines and bees lingers between you as he brushes a thumb over your lower lip. You are weak enough to give him a breath, a helpless, hot little exhale that meets his hand like a gift.

“Schön wie eine Fee,” he rumbles, sounding intoxicated or like he's under a spell of sleep.

“What the hell are you saying,” you whisper in your own tongue: just a meek little sputter, a tiny, horrified breath, but the giant’s eyes narrow with a smile.

“Sie redet,” he says happily, and your shoulders sink – you are on the verge of screaming from frustration alone. Whatever you do seems to only amuse this man, and you snap your mouth shut. Your cheeks heat up with recurring waves of odd fever. The ground beneath your shins is all but warm, and yet you feel warm all over: a dangerous sign, you know, and oddly tied to the peculiar bodings you have seen all week.

Because there have been many omens in the air lately. 

It’s just that none of them were portents of war. 

The cranes started to mate early this year, and you have found a lot of clams from the shore every day. Even your brother encountered a boar with nine piglets; everyone celebrated him as some holy man who had seen the Great Mother when he returned to the village that day. The wind started to blow from south soon after, and the moon has grown along with your womb: this morning, on the brink of war, you woke up wet and restless. 

All the omens speak of fertility, of growth, of a new cycle and of birth: of spring and life. There’s nothing about death and decay, nothing except what the people have told you about… him. The death himself. The war god.

“König,” he says as if he can hear your thoughts and wishes to correct them. You look up and see he’s pointing to himself, or rather, holding his hand over his heart. You fight the urge to scoff at the gesture. As if this beast had a heart…

“König,” he repeats the word and pats his chest, and you realize he’s trying to tell you his name. You wrinkle your nose in distaste, and he smiles. It’s easy to tell when he does, even with the cloth that covers his face: you can see the joy clearly from his eyes, the boyish grin that must be occurring under that mask.

“Du?” He points at you next, inquisitive. He has an odd way of pointing: with two fingers, slightly crooked, and you understand very well what he’s asking of you. You refuse to tell him your name, however, settling for pouting a lip at him next. The smile in his eyes only deepens.

“Fee,” he pokes you gently on the shoulder and leans back in his odd Roman chair, seemingly content with having now named you. 

And Mother was right: you are curious, so incredibly curious to know what this beast has chosen to call you and why. Are you a rat to him…? Some bird? Perhaps simply a girl?

He is so pleased with your conversation that he pours himself some wine and drinks the whole cup with one gulp. Great, you sigh inside your head, a beast and a drunkard. He pours another cup and tries to offer it to you, and when you don’t make a move to grab the clay mug, he brings it to your lips. You entertain him with a tiny sip: you’ve heard of wine and know that Romans are fond of it, but you have never tasted it yourself. 

The tart, bitter flavour almost makes you cough. You thought wine was supposed to be sweet: everyone always describes it as something like milk or honey or juice from an overripe apple. It very much is not, and you almost choke on it and then make a wry face at your captor. He - König - only laughs. It’s another thing that catches you off guard: first those boyish, sad eyes and now this hearty, grown man’s laugh. You have proved to be such an amusement to him that he doesn’t force you to drink any more wine and enjoys the rest of it himself. 

Then he rises and makes you shrink from him again, towers above you for a moment, and looks at you with that warm curiosity that makes your heart race.

“Müde?” 

He tilts his head, the bag of darkness shifts, the blue eyes behold you fondly, and for some reason, you whimper an answer to yet another question you can’t even understand. He takes your little squeak as a yes and falls to crouch before you, then raises a massive hand to the leather strings that keep your demure little dress up. 

To your horror, he pulls the knotted tangle open before you can stop him. Your dress falls from your shoulders and drops to pool around you, and you simply and verily stop breathing.

His eyes wash over you, he examines every little part of exposed skin like an entire treasure chest has suddenly opened before him. You pray to all the gods that he would find it in his heart to be gentle tonight. Your nipples perk up – from the cold or from his stare, you don’t know. 

The rough callous of his palm meets your breast and encloses it in warm support. He cups you, weighs you like he would a fruit, and then he squeezes you, rather hard, too: a deliberate attempt to make you squeal again. He replies to your pathetic mewl with an approving rumble, and you look up at him with all the helpless tenderness of the Mother, hoping that Her gentle pleas might persuade this man not to hurt you.

“Please don’t,” you whisper, and his eyes dart to your mouth, to your eyes, then back to your lips again. He immediately softens his touch. Then he lifts you from inside your poor dress, picks you up like you weigh nothing at all, and carries you to his broad bed, the sturdiest you have ever seen. 

This man feels like the strangest of fates, like a hopeless destiny, as he sets you on the skins and straw mattress, right next to your fluttering heart. Your insides ache as he undresses before you, entirely without shame. He’s hard under the tunic he rips off and tosses on the cold ground. Your eyes are glued to the legendary cock you’ve heard so much about, the cock that splits women apart: and it’s true that it's huge. It resembles the ones you’ve seen on horses, not on men, and your thighs are glued together as he comes next to you while that pale, monstrous cock sways long and heavy between his thighs. He moves you around a little, and you squeal from how weak you feel: weak as a mouse as he covers you with one of those rich furs he has in plenty on the bed. Then crawls under it too, right next to you.

Your heart almost wrenches itself out of your chest as a strong arm pulls you against him: the swell of your ass meets his thighs, solid and broad like treetrunks, and your lower back meets the hot, almost too hot horse cock. It starts to leak and throb against your skin the instant your flesh is pressed against his. You try not to whimper and moan as the Giant, König, curls around you like you two have always done this.

He takes a long, earnest inhale from your neck and hair, rumbles deeply and contently, and tightens his grip. Apparently, you smell and feel good… 

You wait and wait to be plundered and raped, but König only settles for holding you tightly, like you’re a children’s toy made of the softest straw and purest undyed wool. You relax slowly, and he purrs against your back, starts to fondle your breasts, ardently, until your body betrays you and you find yourself wet again; he squeezes and squishes your teats slowly, approvingly, then pinches your nipple once before finally falling into a heavy, deep sleep.

…

Please forgive your author for any historical inaccuracies and other silly things you find facepalmable <3 During this time König would've probably spoken some form of Old Saxon but since I'm not a TOLKIEN we have to settle for modern-day German here. I don't have a taglist for this fic so please check my pinned masterlist for future updates.

Translations

Nein, warte - No, wait

Schön - Beautiful 

Schön wie eine Fee - Beautiful as a fairy

Sie redet - She talks

Du? - You?

Müde? - Tired?

#könig fanfiction #könig x reader #könig x you #könig #könig cod #konig x reader #könig smut #könig fluff #historical au #Roman soldier!König #könig x female reader

[bones4thecats]

Basic Headcanons Of Life With Their S/O

Type of Writing: #8 - Poll Result Characters: Kazutora Hanemiya, Keisuke Baji, Haruchiyo Sanzu, and Tetta Kisaki Name: Basic Headcanons Of Life With Their S/O Original Poll Link: Here

A/N: This isn't my best piece, but I do hope you guys at least kinda like it!

P.S: Kazutora's has slight spoilers for the manga, along with Sanzu's. Btw, these are mainly set in a world where it goes normal, but they're a hint more sane Sanzu and Kisaki

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🐯 Kazutora has major psychological issues, so, when he first got out of Juvenile Detention, you kept your distance from him, knowing if he ever got a hand on you, it wouldn't be the best

🐯 But, you were there for him while he went through his second sentence of Juvie, this one being for the death of Baji

🐯 You went alongside Draken and Takemichi when Kazutora was being held up, and you smiled and nodded to him as he cried. You knew he was trying to express himself and get better now, he couldn't, no, he wouldn't risk losing another person dear to him

🐯 Throughout the ten years he was placed in that building and speaking to professionals, he always awaited your weekly to daily visits

🐯 At the time he was released, you were living in a shared apartment with Chifuyu, who had asked if you were okay with Kazutora coming to stay with you guys for a while

🐯 Of course, you agreed and went with him to pick the now young man from his home of 10 years, and your close friend could tell that you were giddy about seeing your still-in-contact boyfriend

🐯 Kazutora just waited to see Chifuyu's vehicle, and he was quite happy when he saw his old friend, and, when he did see you come outside the opposite side, his eyes swelled up with tears. You actually came!

🐯 You and Chifuyu owned the Pet Store together, and you both welcomed Kazutora with open arms. He was like family after all, and it would be what Baji wanted

🐯 He and you began to grow just as close as you were back in his very youthful days, before the bike store incident and whatnot

🐯 Eventually, Chifuyu began to tease you guys that you treated the animals in the store as your own children. And while that did fluster Kazutora, he couldn't help but wonder; would you be alright with kids? Like when you guys finally settle together?

🐯 And now your chasing Chifuyu with a pissed off cat- oh shit the cat just lunged at him! Y/N!

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

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⚖️ Baji and you were childhood admirers. And by far this guy was super nervous whenever you even looked at him

⚖️ He loves to bring you around the city on his bike, especially after fights, he does like to flaunt off what he's got all to himself, after all, nobody can be duplicated, and he has the best S/O ever!

⚖️ Baji also adores to mess with you, probably not as much as a certain someone Mikey, but he does love messing with you. From grazing your arm while passing one another to messing your hair up, this guy loves to do it

⚖️ He is also very protective of you, and when I say someone is protective, I mean it

⚖️ Once time for example;

⚖️ You had been spending a lot of time alongside these guys from Toman, and they were brand-new members of the first division. And while he normally is happy to watch you get all giddy around people, he knew there was something up

⚖️ The thing that put it out like a sore thumb was when he was over at your house and he heard your phone ringing, making you groan and ask him to answer it

⚖️ Baji picked up the landline and just casually laid out who's house it was and if the person wanted to leave a message for either you or your family

⚖️ His eyes widened when he heard two chuckles on the other side of the line before hearing the most crude and revolting comments about you, and that was making him BEYOND pissed

⚖️ You were shocked to walk into your main room to see Baji yelling at the people on the other line, saying how disgusting they were and how they were surely going to be punished for such an action attempted on his S/O

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

🎭 Sanzu and you had a difficult bond to decipher, so it shocks everyone when they see him walk up behind you and nuzzle into your neck

🎭 He, much like many of the Tokyo Revengers characters, is a very protective person. But he has a whole nother reason for being so protective of you, that being he didn't want you being hurt the same way that he has seen some others be

🎭 For some reason, I can see him being someone obsessed with crime shows and news, so in tole, I can see him watching those shows about people catching pedos (Undercover Underage for example)

🎭 Anyways, being with Sanzu is a roller coaster, especially when it comes to future him

🎭 He has gone through many problems throughout his life, from getting those scars on his mouth to dealing with substance abuse, this guy needs support like no other

🎭 And you were the perfect person to help him there

🎭 You, unlike many, did not just stand by and watch him get worse, instead, you jumped in and began to try helping your dearest with his problems, starting with his personal image of himself

🎭 Despite how many view him, Sanzu does have some issues with how he sees himself. He has a strained relationship with both his sister and brother, yet he somehow has an amazing one with you... how does that make any sense?

🎭 It doesn't. That is until you prompted the duo to actually speak to him about it, it was this action that prompted them to actually grow closer as a family, to be a real family again

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👓 Kisaki always had an eye for one person, Hina... that was, until you came into the picture

👓 You were always there for the male. Helping him calm down when his emotions finally cascaded around him, wrapping him in a web of overthinking

👓 But, every time you actually tried getting to know him, he would push you away. Until you assisted him in creating a plan to gain Hina's attention and break her and Takemichi away

👓 You could tell he was starting to have a mental break, and you weren't just going to stand aside knowing that you could've done something to help your friend. Even if this upset Hanma, it would be worth it

👓 Kisaki was raking his hands through his blonde hair, gritting his teeth while rubbing his temples, throwing his hands in a vicious cycle of brushing, gritting, and rubbing and repeat

👓 Walking behind him, you reached out and laid a cup of his favorite beverage on the table of your home's before lightly touching his shoulder, making him look at you in shock

👓 You smiled gently as he looked in your eyes as you wrapped your arms around his midsection. He couldn't believe it, you were hugging him! Didn't you think he was crazy for being so motivated to break such a happy couple up?

👓 Ever since that day, Kisaki and you somehow seemed closer than ever, closer than Hina and Takemichi seemed to be

👓 Speaking of the infamous time-traveler, he was shocked. This hadn't happened in any different timelines he traveled through. In all of them, Kisaki went mental and killed you. For what reason? He only had two hunches; you knew too much or he didn't want you to see him do anything worse...

👓 But, despite the shock, he'd have to admit, this was exactly what he wanted to happen. He always saw you guys as such a nice duo, it was nice to not worry about what Kisaki would do for once

#Tokyo Revengers #Tokyo Rev #Tokyo Manji Gang #Toman #Tokyo Revengers x Reader #Tokyo Rev x Reader #Tokyo Manji Gang x Reader #Toman x Reader #S/O! Reader #GN! Reader #Kazutora Hanemiya #Kazutora Hanemiya x Reader #Baji Keisuke #Baji Keisuke x Reader #Sanzu Haruchiyo #Sanzu Haruchiyo x Reader #Kisaki Tetta #Kisaki Tetta x Reader

[corroded-hellfire]

AYW req if you'd like: while Reader is pregnant with Eliza, she starts getting more prominent stretch marks on her stomach & boobs & stops letting Eddie see her naked. Eddie rectifies that situation hehehehe

This was honestly so fun to write! Love featuring the kiddos but these two also need some alone time hehe 💜 @munson-blurbs and I hope you like what we've come up with

Warnings: smut, p in v, unprotected (she's already pregnant but you should still wrap it up), semi-public sex, pregnant!reader, oral, f!receiving, breeding kink, body image issues, older!eddie, dad!eddie

Words: 3.3k

[As You Wish masterlist]

The late June day is sweltering as you step out of the Harrington’s house and into their backyard. The placid blue water of the pool looks refreshing and calm—or it will, until the kids get in. Luke quickly jumps in alongside Theo and Danny, the three rowdy boys immediately splashing each other and then whining about being splashed. Ryan and Natalie are decidedly less hyperactive, taking care to watch baby Amelia where she kicks herself around in her purple mermaid floaties. 

Nancy makes herself comfortable on a lounge chair a few feet away from the one you’re making your way towards. Normally you can keep up with everyone else, still being in your second trimester, but this heat has you moving slower and feeling crankier than usual. 

You can’t help but notice the way Nancy looks in her bathing suit compared to how you feel in yours. Nancy’s had four children and looks stunning as always as she lays back in her black one piece. You feel shoved into your navy suit, like every little stretch mark that mars your skin is on full display for the world to see. 

Trying to shrug it off and enjoy the invitation from the Harrington’s to have a pool day, you make yourself comfortable on your lounge chair and adjust the pale pink coverup you have on. Eddie stands near the foot of your lounge chair, shielding his eyes from the sun as he looks out at the children in the water. Your eyes feel glued to his lithe frame as he strips his shirt off. The pale skin that’s left on display practically has your mouth watering. It doesn’t matter that you’ve seen him naked countless times, your eyes still roam over his torso and the beautiful works of art he has inked on his skin. 

As Eddie rids himself of the Black Sabbath shirt, he notices the way you’re gawking at him. A smirk quirks up his handsome features and he playfully tosses his shirt at your face. Your hormones this second trimester have been no joke. The moment Eddie walks through the door after work you’re jumping on him. Your husband swore you were going to wear him out before this baby was born. Not the last week or so though, now that Eddie thinks about it. Maybe those particular horny hormones have been fading to make room for whatever new batch comes in for the third trimester. 

The sound of little feet kicking too hard beneath the water of the pool approaches you and Eddie, and you look up to see Luke swimming over towards the edge. He grins up at the pair of you, shaking the water from his curls like a dog just out of the bath. Bright blue eyes land on you and they’re doing a pretty damn good impersonation of the puppy dog look that Eddie gives you when he wants something. You know what Luke is going to ask before he even opens his mouth. 

“Wanna plaaaay with us? Please?”

Giving him a frown as you squint beneath the blazing sunlight, you shake your head. “I’m super tired, bud. Growing a baby is hard work,” you tease. You’re not technically lying—when you’re not jumping Eddie’s bones or concocting weird new food combinations, you’re sleeping— but no one needs to know that’s not the reason you don’t want to get in the pool. 

“I can play with you,” Eddie offers his son. He takes a step towards the pool and is ready to dive in when Luke wrinkles his nose up in disgust.

“Nah, I’m good,” the little Munson boy says. 

As you bring your hands up to your mouth to cover up your laughter at your son’s remark, Steve claps a hand on Eddie’s bare back.

“Gonna need some ice for that burn?” Steve whoops. 

“Shut up, Harrington,” your husband grumbles in response. Eddie takes a seat near your legs at the edge of the lounge chair. His hand finds your leg and he rubs up and down your calf, always needing to be touching you in some way. Physical comfort is something you both love to give and receive from one another, which calls for a lot of soft rubbing or absent-mindedly drawing patterns on one another’s skin. Now, Eddie’s touch is having a calming effect on you, though he didn’t even realize there was something you’re uneasy about. Your body language must change as he relaxes you though, because he tilts his head to the side as he gazes at your face.

“You feeling alright, baby?” he asks.

“Yeah, just tired.” 

If Eddie had any follow up for that, he doesn’t get the chance because Amelia kicks her way over towards Luke in the pool and hangs onto his shoulder when she’s close enough. Her hand almost slips from his wet skin, but Luke manages to catch the little girl before she can float too far away. 

“Uncla’ Eddie!” Amelia calls once she’s clinging to Luke again. 

“What’s up, Little Red?” he asks his favorite ginger niece. 

“Come in, come in!” Amelia cheers. 

“At least somebody wants me in the water,” Eddie says with a pointed look at Luke. “Anything for you, my darling Mia.”

A few minutes after Eddie’s joined the kids in the pool—who also convince Steve to come in—Nancy comes over to you, noticing how everyone else is in just their bathing suits and you’re seemingly putting on more articles of clothing. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you answer too quickly, nervously tucking your lips into your mouth. 

“Bullshit,” she counters, crossing her arms over her chest. “I have four kids; I can smell a lie a mile away.”

“Seriously, Nance, I’m fine.” You muster up a small smile, but she sees right through it, and you know it. 

You have your nose buried in a book, unaware that Nancy is reaching over the side of the pool to give Eddie’s ear a tug. 

“Jesus H. Christ!” he yelps, rubbing the affected lobe. “What was that for?”

“Go talk to your wife,” Nancy says through gritted teeth, obviously irritated at having to spell it out for him. “Marco Polo can wait.”

As Eddie attempts to get out of the pool, Amelia grabs his leg and tugs. Your husband lets out a soft chuckle and picks the small girl up.

“I’ll be back, Mia.” He presses a few kisses to the top of her wet, red hair and sets her back in the water. 

Over the top of your book, you see Eddie sauntering towards you. You slip the book back into your bag and tug your cover up tighter across your body. 

“What’s cookin’, good lookin’?” he asks with a smirk. “Besides that bun in the oven.”

“Just relaxing,” you say. 

“If you’re just relaxing, why did Lady Harrington threaten my life to come over here? And why aren’t you in the pool?”

The only answer you have you don’t want to tell him. And you’re not going to make up some lie to get him off your back. Eddie deserves better than that and you would never treat him with anything less than the utmost respect. That doesn’t mean you want to tell him the truth, though. You swallow embarrassment as you mutter, “I gotta pee.”

Eddie doesn’t let you get far without him though, he’s hot on your tail as you walk through the back door into the house.

“Can you please tell me what the problem is so I can at least try to fix it?” he asks once the screen door is securely closed behind him.

Silence is his only reply as you walk up the stairs to the second floor. You’re obviously upset, and your husband can’t relax until he knows what’s bothering you.

“Sweetheart, what’s the problem?” he asks again.

You stop short and spin on your heel to face him. As Eddie tries to read your face, he’s not sure if there’s more sadness or anger there. Either way, he wants to make it go away. He’d do anything. 

“This is the problem!” you say, gesturing towards your boobs and stomach. 

Eddie looks at you for a moment, brain trying to comprehend whatever it is you’re talking about. He shakes his head and gives you his response. “If I keep looking at them, this is gonna be a problem, too.” He motions to his crotch.

“I’m serious!” you yell in frustration. 

“I am, too!” Eddie says, raising his eyebrows. “Don’t forget how I got you pregnant in the first place.”

“Oh, so I can blame you for this mess?”

Eddie wrinkles his brows. “What mess?” He knows you would never refer to your baby that way, so he’s even more confused as to what you could mean.

“The stretch marks, Eds!” you lament, throwing your arms up in exasperation. “They look like an angry toddler drew lines all over my body.”

Understanding clicks inside Eddie’s brain. Why you’re so covered up. Why you didn’t want to go into the pool. But how could you ever think anything about your body wasn’t absolutely beautiful to him?

“That’s why you haven’t been all over me the past few days,” Eddie says as the realization hits him. “I thought maybe it was those horny hormones, or whatever they’re called, fading. But you…you think there’s something wrong with having stretch marks? Baby, no. It’s just your body making more room for our little sweet pea to grow. They’re beautiful, sweetheart.”

Believing him is easier said than done. You want to believe him, but battling the insecurities in your head is not something you’ve conquered yet. Now you just stand there and fiddle with the hem of your coverup, not knowing what else to say or do.

Eddie sighs and gently takes your hand into his. 

“Come with me. I wanna show you something.” 

Eddie leads you into the upstairs bathroom and shuts the door. He positions you directly in front of the mirror above the sink and stands behind you. Slowly, he moves your cover up out of the way to reveal your growing bump, stretch marks dotting the sides. 

“How on earth could you think anything about this is a problem?” he asks, his hands barely grazing your skin as he admires your tummy. “Look at you. Gorgeous bump. Cute little stretch marks from where our baby is making herself comfortable inside of you. It’s incredible, princess. Your body is literally growing a person and you’re mad at it because there are a few lines appearing on your skin?” He gives an incredulous laugh as he turns you around to face him. “Jesus, I mean, see what just talking about it does to me.” One large hand dwarfs your smaller one to press your palm to the hardening bulge in his swim trunks. 

You roll your eyes. “Please. The wind blows the wrong way and you get a boner,” you rebut. 

“Oh, Sweetheart,” Eddie says with a small groan. “Don’t say blows when I’m hard like this.”

“Can you be serious for two seconds?” Your temper is already short from the heat and the pregnancy, and his blasé attitude only makes it worse. 

Eddie cradles your cheeks in his hands. “I love you. And I love your body. I loved it before you were pregnant, and I’ll love it after, but watching you carrying our baby…fuckin’ does it for me.” He bites his lower lip as he drinks in the sight of you. “Goddamn, you look fuckin’ gorgeous like this.”

You think back to when the two of you first got together, when he’d made what you’d assumed was an offhand remark about knocking you up. Maybe it wasn’t as out of left field as you’d thought. 

As if he can read your mind, Eddie’s lips press soft kisses down your neck as he murmurs, “always dreamed about getting you pregnant. Would’ve done it a lot sooner if I’d known you’d be this sexy.” He runs a finger along a stretch mark that curves down your stomach. 

“H-How much sooner?” Curiosity asks the question for you as your back arches slightly from his touch. 

“That night,” he confirms, knowing he doesn’t have to elaborate further on what night he means, “but your stupid birth control pills ruined all my fun,” he adds with a teasing smirk. 

“They were so stupid. Sh-Should’ve stopped taking them the second I saw you.” Your voice is still timid from the emotions coursing through you, but Eddie can tell you’re finally letting him in.

Eddie throws his head back. “Fuck, baby. You got me all worked up.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” you tease, hands sliding up his wet chest and over the sparse hair. “What should we do about that?”

Eddie whines and leans in, nipping at your neck. 

“You know, I wasn’t a big fan of this bathing suit anyway,” you tell him. “The faster you get it on the floor, the faster you can be inside of me.”

Eddie gets your coverup and bathing suit off in record time. It would’ve made you laugh if you weren’t so turned on. His swim trunks go next and then Eddie is lifting you up onto the bathroom counter. There’s not much time to admire his fully naked body before he gets down on his knees in front of you. You wind your fingers through the hair on the top of his head and he looks up at you with wide, hungry eyes. That look alone has you practically dripping for him. 

Eddie keeps that eye contact with you as his hands force your legs further apart and he licks a broad stripe up your folds. You’re the one to end the staring contest when the pleasure overwhelms you and your eyes flutter closed, throwing your head back. It knocks against the mirror, but you’re too caught up to notice if it hurt or not. 

On the next swipe of Eddie’s tongue, he keeps going up so his tongue is trailing the swell of your belly as well. He presses hot kisses against your bump as he works his way back down again. He repeats the motion, next time taking time to either kiss or run his tongue along the stretch marks. The physical sensation feels amazing, but paired with the way Eddie is making you feel emotionally with his tender touch is making your heart thump even faster. 

Every little movement of his makes you feel more cared for, more cherished, and sexy. He’s built you up so high that you have to give a little tug on his curls so he pulls his mouth away from your pussy.

“Need you inside. Now.”

“Anything for the woman carrying my baby.”

You pull his mouth to yours and moan against his tongue as you feel his hands roam your body. His touch soothes over the areas of your breasts where you’ve memorized the stretch marks before moving down and caressing the ones on your stomach again. 

Eddie’s hands slide up to your hips and give a quick squeeze. He gently lifts you down from the counter and spins you around to face the mirror. You brace your hands on the counter as Eddie trails soft kisses up the side of your neck.

“Want you to see how fucking hot is when I fuck you like this,” he whispers in your ear, his hot breath sending a shiver throughout your body. 

You spread your legs, but Eddie wants them farther apart. He nudges them with his knee while he rubs a hand up and down your spine. He fists his cock a few times, making eye contact with you in the mirror as he does so. The way he’s looking at you has you whimpering and whining in anticipation.

Your noises make Eddie smirk, and he lines himself up with your entrance. As he pushes in, one hand snakes around your body and rests firmly on your baby bump. 

“Fuck,” Eddie groans. “I’ll never get over how fucking perfectly we fit together.” He punctuates his statement by tilting your chin slightly upwards so you have no choice but to see yourself in the mirror. You watch as he disappears inside you, your body obeying his every command. 

When you rock your hips back against his, Eddie slips his other hand around you to rub circles on your clit. His middle finger finds it easily, slipping through your soaked folds and pressing against the sensitive bud. The feeling is too much; you have to bite your lip to keep from screaming out—the last thing you need is the Harringtons hearing your pathetic whines. 

“God, I wanna fill you up so bad, baby,” Eddie hisses, snapping into you furiously as he takes in the view of your body; the view of you watching your body. “Shit, I’d make you pregnant twice over right now if I could.” 

“W-Would you always keep me pregnant if you could?” you manage to ask between gasps and whimpers—both yours and Eddie’s. 

“Fuck,” Eddie growls. “Don’t tempt me, sweetheart. “I’ll go buy a damn farm right now to raise all the babies I want to put in you.”

His words make you laugh, which has you squeezing around Eddie’s cock. He moans, drawing you impossibly close against his bare chest. 

“They’re babies, not sheep, Eddie.”

“Still need the space to run around,” he muses, making you laugh again.

“I love you so—-oh! So, so much, Eddie.”

 He’s ridiculously hard inside of you, fucking into you like his life depends on it. “Shit, I love you too, princess.” His middle finger makes more frantic circles around your clit, throwing you over the edge. “You’ve got a fuckin’ vice grip today, holy shit,” he breathes, willing himself not to finish too early while still being acutely aware of his surroundings. 

Your fingers dig into the countertop as each thrust brings you closer to your orgasm. “Right—right there,” you pant, fighting back a moan. “Don’tstopdon’tstopdon’tstop.” You come, aided by his magic fingers and your raging hormones, with a soft whine of his name. 

“‘M right there, shit, you’re the best little fucktoy,” he grunts. The hint of degradation has you clenching around him again; of course, he immediately takes notice of it. “Y’like that? Y’like being my pregnant little fucktoy? Knocked up with my baby and still beggin’ for more?”

“Y-Yes, sir,” you stutter, smiling at the reaction your response brings. 

Eddie’s pistoning his hips into you, whispering directly in your ear, “So good, so fucking good f’me. Gonna come so deep in this little pussy, mkay? Gonna keep you pregnant, just like you want.” 

With a guttural groan, he spills into you. His breath is hot on your shoulder blade as he stays inside, not wanting to withdraw right away. You’re not complaining either, until—

“Are you two finished in there?” Steve’s irritated voice beckons from the other side of the door. Your already sweaty body heats up even more, realizing you’ve been found out. Something about it is also oddly hot, but it’s not the best time to think about that with Eddie still inside of you and Steve on the other side of the door. 

“Just a sec!” Eddie calls back, giving your earlobe a gentle nibble as he pulls out, scooping up the cum that’s dripping down your bare leg and stuffing it back into your pussy. “Had to clean you up,” he murmurs with a salacious grin. 

The two of you put your swimsuits back on and fix yourselves as best as you can before Eddie opens up the bathroom door. 

Steve just rolls his eyes, barreling past you as he mutters, “Dammit Munson; you already got her pregnant. Relax.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #AYW #AYWS

[lieyarzy]

Following Yuu/You

Author: I'm so creative with the title (no I'm not)

Note: Fluff, a little sad but fluff.

-p/n is pet name ( like literally pet okay? Not babe no)

Synopsis: Crowley found a way to bring back Yuu to their world, but one dragon follows where Yuu is, as where Yuu is where home.

Malleus Draconia had always been a wizard, but he had chosen to leave that life behind. He had followed Yuu when the Headmaster, Crowley, had finally found a way for Yuu to return home. Now, Malleus was living a normal life, working at a company and enjoying every minute of it.

Every day, Malleus would go to work and put in his best effort. He enjoyed his job, but he always looked forward to going home to his spouse, Yuu. They had created a cozy and comfortable life together, filled with love and laughter.

One day, Malleus and Yuu decided to take a vacation together. They traveled to a beautiful beach resort and spent their days lounging in the sun, swimming in the ocean, and exploring the local area. Malleus was amazed by the beauty of the natural world, and he loved being able to share this experience with his spouse.

As they walked along the beach one day, Malleus noticed a group of children playing in the sand. They were building sandcastles and laughing together, and Malleus felt a pang of longing in his heart. He had always wanted children of his own, but he knew that it was impossible for him and Yuu.

When they returned home from their vacation, Malleus couldn't shake the feeling of sadness that had settled over him. He tried to focus on his work and his time with Yuu, but he couldn't help feeling like something was missing from his life.

One day, Malleus and Yuu decided to adopt a pet. They visited a local animal shelter and fell in love with a cute little kitten. They named her p/n, and she quickly became a beloved member of their family. Malleus loved playing with p/n and watching her antics, and he was grateful for the joy she brought into their lives.

But even with p/n in their lives, Malleus still felt like something was missing. He couldn't shake the feeling that he wanted to be a father.

One day, Malleus decided to talk to Yuu about his feelings. He was nervous, but he knew that he needed to be honest with his spouse. When he told Yuu how he was feeling, they listened with an open heart and a sympathetic ear.

Together, they decided to explore their options. They researched adoption agencies and talked to friends who had gone through the process. They knew that it wouldn't be easy, but they were willing to do whatever it took to become parents.

Months went by, and Malleus and Yuu went through a long and difficult adoption process. But finally, they received the news they had been waiting for: they had been matched with a little girl.

Malleus was overjoyed. He couldn't believe that he was finally going to be a father. When they brought their daughter home, Malleus felt like his heart was bursting with love. He held her in his arms and looked into her eyes, feeling an overwhelming sense of responsibility and love.

As the days went by, Malleus and Yuu adjusted to their new life as parents. They took turns feeding, changing, and playing with their daughter, and Malleus felt like he was finally living the life he had always wanted.

He wrote stories about the moments he shared with his daughter, capturing every smile, every laugh, and every milestone. He wrote about the love he felt for his spouse and the joy they shared as a family.

Malleus knew that being a parent wasn't easy, but he also knew that it was the most rewarding thing he had ever done. He watched his daughter grow and learn, and he felt like he was growing and learning right alongside her.

Years went by, and Malleus continued to write stories about his family. He wrote about the challenges they faced and the love that kept them together. He wrote about the moments of joy and the moments of sadness, and he knew that every word he wrote was a testament to the love he felt for his family.

In the end, Malleus knew that he had found his true calling. He was a writer, but he was also a father, a husband, and a friend. He had found the love and happiness he had always been searching for, and he knew that he would cherish it for the rest of his life.

#twisted wonderland malleus #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst headcanons #twisted wonderland #malleus draconia #twst malleus #malleus draconia x reader #malleus x reader #malleus x yuu

[m-musings]

HELLO, can I request Mihawk, Buggy, and Shanks dating or married to an elderly fem reader (late 40s or early 60s) hc's? Basically, the reader is genuinely so sweet and protective and rocking like she is in her early 20s. Despite her kind nature, the reader is also surprisingly strong-willed. And is also insecure about being too old and tries to convince them to move on and find someone else who is the same age as them. (also she ate a devil fruit that gave her teleportation powers and is a teacher and teaches fencing to young children).

Headcanons: The One Piece Old Men with an Older Fem! S/O

A/N: I fr had no ideas for this so I'm really sorry if it's not exactly what you wanted sdfghjkl

Word Count:698 Warnings: nada, all fluff here

Buggy:

• K so, the first time Buggy meets you is when he happens upon your fencing class during an exploration of your island.

• When you see him approach, you instantly teleport in front you students to try and protect them from whatever he may do.

• Once he realizes that you're also a Devil Fruit user, he's almost instantly enamored with you.

• Initially, it's just because he sees you being useful to him in some way but as he gets to know you more, he grows to genuinely love and respect you.

• After getting together, Buggy revels in the affection you show to him and his crew. He can't recall the last time anyone saw them all as actual people, let alone get to know them like you do.

• He also respects the fact that you don't hesitate to call him out on his bullshit or straight up kick his ass when he needs it.

• And while he might give you crap about teaching sometimes, he still gives you the all the regard you deserve for doing a rather tough job like that.

• When you get insecure about being older, he makes sure to remind you that he is also kind of an "old geezer" and that he'll still love you when you're both as old as the sea itself.

Shanks:

• You met Shanks when he and his crew pulled into port where you were staying, them needing to restock supplies and rest for a while before going off on another adventure.

• He meets you in a small bar where he sees you chatting and laughing merrily with some of the staff as you sip on a fruity drink of some kind.

• With an intrigued smile, he struts over and introduces himself with all the usual charm.

• As you two idly chat for about 15 minutes, you stop mid-sentence when the girl you mentor hurriedly runs into the bar asking for help with something quick.

• You excuse yourself with an apologetic smile before suddenly vanishing from sight, surprising Shanks as he confusedly looks around the room for you.

• A minute or two later, you pop back to your original position and continue on the conversation like nothing happened.

• Impressed at the discovery of your powers, he begins to ask all sorts of questions about it, which eventually leads to a friendship and later, a relationship!

• He loves being with you! Seeing how kind and helpful you are with most anyone you come in contact with is so refreshing for him to see in a world where other people seem to not care about anything but themselves.

• Shanks also admires the friendship you have with the girl you mentor, it reminds him of his relationship with Luffy.

• And when it comes to your age, he couldn't care less! As long as you're a truly good person, he'll love you with all his heart no matter how you perceive yourself.

Mihawk:

• You meet Dracule when he arrives to an island near yours while on a bounty search for the Marines.

• Having been hired alongside him due to your powers and skills with a saber, he is a little hesitant to be around you due to him preferring to work alone.

• But once the job is done and he's spent more time with you, he actually finds himself enjoying your company a lot!

• He likes how headstrong you are and how you aren't afraid to let someone know exactly how you feel.

• And that combined with the fact that you teach a very useful fighting style to the next generation, he's sold on the idea of the two of you being something more than friends rather soon.

• Mihawk also adores just how sweet you can be with those you care about. Whether that's with your students or with him, he's absolutely smitten when you're being your typical, cuddly self.

• There are for sure times when you convince yourself that your age is a problem and that he'd be better off with someone more youthful.

• When you have those doubts, he's right there to assure you that he doesn't mind at all. He's glad to be around you because you're you, older than him or not.

#one piece #one piece live action #one piece imagine #buggy x reader #buggy the clown x reader #shanks x reader #dracule mihawk x reader #mihawk x reader #headcanon

[crooked-wasteland]

Vivienne Medrano started her writing career on a comic by the name Zoophobia. A comic that lacked any sense of story whatsoever. While she would argue with comments about the lack of purpose by saying the story was Slice of Life, it was a forewarning of her future to come.

The story started with a concept of overcoming prejudice, but was quickly washed over with a bombardment of a large ensamble cast at the very start before introducing a whole separate but attached world that spun off into Hazbin Hotel. At no point actually finding a reason to care about the original premise of a prejudicial school counselor overcoming those qualities to help those around them that were substantially different from them.

Rather, Medrano has perpetuated the misnomer that Slice of Life is the same as storyless. And that's the greatest misunderstanding of a genre that can be achieved. Slice of Life being deemed meaningless time wasting as you look into the dull happenings of someone else's benign problems is a childish perspective.

Slice of life is the cornerstone of coming of age narratives like Grave of the Fireflies. For young adults, a slice of life mature story about what it means to grow up, or inner child healing, or how to move on would be a niche that could shape a generation for the better. Especially in our Era of the internet where most of us have spent more time learning socialization online.

Where people are stripped of their humanity and nuance, and tone is read into lettering on the cold blue light of a screen in the dark. Unless this little pixelated square and string of text makes me feel important by either agreeing with me and thus making me feel worth through their "support" for my beliefs or flatter me and validating my existence before disagreeing with my points, they are the villain of the second.

And especially being a show released at the height of a world trapped in quarantine, where all our sense of community and humanity came through a screen, Helluva Boss seemed to want to be a dark comedy that tackled the topics of damaged inner-children, relationship and abandonment trauma, self worth and moving on from past mistakes, and the complicated minefield of grey morality.

This is not mere conjecture either. Medrano has an outspoken love for shows like Bojack Horseman but lacks the understanding of why this absurd vision of slice of life was so emotionally and mentally profound to an entire generation of young adults. Medrano herself has liked sycophantic tweets comparing Helluva Boss to Bojack Horseman and subtly props herself on these pedestals alongside her idols despite not deserving of the comparison.

Blitz is the show titular Boss of the series and is very obviously a concept inspired by Bojack directly. Both Bojack and Blitz are performing artists, but while Bojack was immensely successful, Blitz was not.

Bojack's history is that of two abusive parents who had no love to spare for him. Instead, his only worth came in the form of performing. It was the only time he felt any ounce of love from his cruel mother, Beatrice, who used him as a means to elevate herself socially while simultaneously feeling any form of worth through the validation of strangers. Bojack is aware his mother was not a great parent, but he has a damaged inner child still desperate to get her approval and affection. Even though he genuinely hates her, he has a lingering empty maw within himself that begs for her love. Bojack suffers from a fear of loss.

When Sarah Lynn drinks his alcohol, he throws the hair dressed under the train to save himself. Despite his honesty having a high chance of being seen as the accident it was and excuses being made for him, Bojack was too insecure to recognize his protection through his popularity. He grew up with a mother who was the definition of conditional, and any small or large mistake could be the catalyst that took everything he had worked and waited for away.

Bojack's sabotaging of Todd also showsbthis fear of loss more blatantly. However, it lacks the understanding as to why Bojack would want to keep Todd near while also chronically putting him down. This is where the lack of understanding best shows between what Medrano thinks is happening and reality.

Blitz begins his story much the same way as Bojack. Instead of a slave driving mother profiting off her son, it's Cash Buckzo, Blitz's father and owner of a circus, who slave drives his children to perform. Blitz loves performing but is not deemed talented enough to be valuable. He has an implied sick, unseen mother who is treated as his motivation for complying with his father.

Medrano doesn't seem to realize that an external motivation lacks the emotional depth needed to have an audience empathize with the character. This is a repeated issue in every character.

Blitz isn't seeking a parent's approval but is instead held hostage by the desire to help someone else, and to do that must be submissive to an authority who has no care for him.

Stolas isn't at war with himself over cheating on his wife due to the fact that he is a gay man in an arranged straight relationship but instead is a victim in his own life. He is told what to do and how to do it by every other person in his life and doesn't have an internal sense of responsibility that he is contending with. He has no needs vs. wants. Instead, his wants are universal. To be loved is a base desire, and Medrano puts no effort into expanding on what that means for her character. Instead, utilizing the natural inclination in her audience to pretend there is depth in Stolas' conflict.

Loona is similarly a victim. She and Stolas are not fighting their own emotions, but the bullies contrived in the plot for them to confront. Her fault isn't her own insecurity that she must overcome. Rather, it is the fault of every other character for not coddling her insecurities due to her having a sad history. Actively fighting against the notion that people should ultimately be responsible for themselves.

This gives the impression of someone who believes a sympathetic past must justify one's behavior in the present. It's a blatant misreading of the idea that everyone has their own storm to navigate. The idea behind that saying is that you should be kind despite what you are going through because it is easy to believe you win the bad day Olympics when you're in the middle of it, not because someone else may be going or has gone through something worse.

Wrapping around, the Todd and Bojack relationship is a clear parallel to the Moxxie and Blitz relationship. But while Medrano uses the line "I'm hard on you because you can do better" as to why Blitz is a chronic asshole to his "friend", the writers of Bojack are not at all interested in justifying abuse. The reason Bojack ruined Todd's chance to leave can be seen as sympathetic because he is afraid of being alone and the loss that comes with that. But he isn't cruel or rude to Todd to make him better, rather it is the systematic disintegration of Todd's sense of ability and self worth to keep him codependent to Bojck and less likely to leave. It is only when Todd is away from Bojack that he actually comes into his true potential. The support of those around him telling him how badly Bojack treats him and instilling confidence in Todd to try things once again ultimately results in him escaping Bojack. It is a slow process for Todd to leave. He doesn't just walk away like it feels in the episode. Rather, he has spent seasons slowly becoming more and more distant from Bojack with new relationships and hobbies, even as Bojack tries to brow beat and insult him into complacency.

Instead, Medrano thinks things just happen from large, grand gestures and emotional beats. That a sad past is a free ticket to being an awful person who is accountable to no one. Much like the villain of Bojack Horseman.

#helluva boss critical #helluva boss criticism #helluva boss critique #vivienne medrano #vivziepop #helluva boss #spindlehorse criticism #spindlehorse critical #abuse survivor #narcissistic abuse #bojack horseman #vivziepop critical #vivziepop criticism #vivziepop critique #slice of life is not nothing #writing critique #writing criticism #characters need growth #these characters deserve better #zoophobia #bojack netflix #bojackthoughts #essay writing

[haru-natsuka]

The Unending Daze Part 3 (Malleus Draconia x Wife Reader x Ace Trappola)

Chapter start from below trailer*

>> Trailer <<

"My darling wife, the joy you have brought me throughout the years is without compare. Our children are fortunate to have been gifted with such a loving and caring mother as you,"

Malleus spoke with affection, his voice like honeyed words that melted the hearts of everyone that heard it. He leaned down to kiss your forehead, his warm breath brushing against your skin.

But just as you were getting used to this blissful scene, your old friend, Ace arrived in an unexpected turn of events. He claimed that he was your husband, which left you perplexed and bewildered.

"Wait a minute, that's not right! I'm your real husband! He's just trying to manipulate you with a dream. Wake up, now! Our children need you! I need you, Y/N!"

You were unsure how to proceed, caught in the middle of a confusing situation. In this situation, you feel conflicted and uncertain about whether your old friend or your darling husband had spoken the truth

>> PART 3 <<

You could not remember anything from the night before. Your eyebrows were furrowed in frustration, and the only memory you can recall is preparing for bed alongside Malleus. However, today, Malleus was nowhere in sight, which is quite strange behavior for him. You began to wonder whether you made a mistake last night. Since morning, you had not even caught sight of him.

"Mama! You got that wrinkle again" Marcellus tried to straighten that wrinkle off your forehead, but as he touched you, you suddenly flinched with a sense of revulsion and horror. The feeling of those wooden hands running against your skin reminded you of the illusion of a puppet. You could not help but imagine your son's face as having a lifeless wooden form with smiley eyes, while you looked at him.

No, why did you even imagine such a thing? This was your youngest son, who always seems so adorable and innocent to you. His skin was just as fair as Malleus's, though his horn was not as sharp as his father's because it was still growing. He was the exact copy of Malleus, except for his eyes, which have your color and shape.

You felt a sudden suffocation as the imagery of your lifeless son flashes through your mind, overwhelming you and causing you feelings of intense guilt and shame. Your son's innocent smile and warm eyes kept on interchange with a cold and lifeless demeanor as it emptily stared at you. You just desired for a moment of escape, to get away from this place and find some peace. You were not a good mother at all.

'Get away from them!'

'They are not your family!'

You heard a dark voice echoing in your mind, warning you to stay away from your son, from everyone in this world. The voice was similar to your voice, almost like it was warning you of a danger lurking near you.

'Run!'

'Run! Be safe! Don't be caught by him anymore! Stop-'

You felt a growing sense of desperation, as your breathing started to quicken and your heart began to race. You wanted these voices to go away, to leave you alone here in your mind. Your mind became filled with this darkening gloom, and you could not seem to shake this unsettling feeling.

"Y/N! Come back to me!"

You heard someone call out to you with a concerned tone of voice. You felt a strong hold on your shoulder as they asked you if you were doing alright, but your mind was preoccupied with the voices that continued to echo within your mind.

You pushed the man away, wanting to escape from his hold and give yourself some space. You looked up to see a red-haired man staring at you with absolute panic and concern in his eyes. Immediately, you felt your eyes tearing up, and a sudden urge to cry came over you.

Despite your efforts to maintain your composure, the tears began to fall. Your heart started to pound with a slight ache, and you were unsure of the reason why. How could your friend, Ace, make you feel this way?

"I'm sorry I'm late Y/N. You have gone through so much" Ace's tone was warm and caring, and there was a hint of sadness and remorse in his voice. He tried to take a step closer to you, but you backed away immediately. You felt uneasy around him, and a sudden sense of familiarity was growing within you as you stared at him.

Your heart beat quicker, and you started to feel a sudden sense of panic and fear as you realised you cannot locate Levan and Marcellus. A sense of desperation grew within you as you looked around, hoping to see them somewhere. Your thoughts were scattered, and your emotions were running high, making it hard to think clearly.

"What are you doing here, Ace? Where are my sons?" You asked in confusion.

"You don't seem to remember me at all, do you, Y/N? I'm your-" Ace said with a sad expression and his voice sounded somewhat hurt when the reality of you not remembering him hit him hard. Before you could focus on him any further, a strong wind blew in and threw him into the trees, his body injured and blood running down his head. 

You could hear Ace whimpering and groaning in pain from where you were standing, and you felt your feet moving towards him, driven by a compassion that was beyond your control. However, before you could take another step, Malleus appeared in front of you, acting as a barrier between you and Ace.

You could hear Ace's pained groans, but you cannot see him anymore. The sight of Malleus, standing protectively in front of you with both Levan and Marcellus in his arms, blocks your view completely.

Malleus's voice is soft and reassuring, and his expression is one of genuine concern. "Are you alright, my dear wife?" He stares at you intently, keeping a protective grip on Levan and Marcellus.

Malleus's gentle voice filled your ears, and his reassuring expression compelled you to draw your full attention to him. The feeling of wanting to help Ace suddenly seemed to dissipate, and you felt yourself compelled to abandon your previous intention, instead immediately rushing towards Malleus, Levan and Marcellus.

However, the look from Malleus's eyes stopped you. His eyes had a look of wanting to destroy your old friend from NRC, which caused you to hesitate. The scene felt a bit familiar and yet you could not recall anything specific as it remained vague.

As you felt the draw and rush towards Malleus, there was a wave of confusion as Malleus's intense gaze fixed upon you, his eyes appearing to radiate hatred towards the wounded Ace.

Your mind struggled to make sense of the intense energy and emotions that you were sensing, and you felt a vague sense of familiarity with the situation. You felt like you should remember something specific about this, but you could not recall anything clear or concise.

'Don't you remember me? Please, don't play around like this.'

'I know I'm not a really good husband, and I admit it but I will be better. Be with me, please'

'I will never stop searching for you, Y/N'

'Y/N. I'm glad you are alright'

Your memories of Ace are still very vague, but his words seemed to have a familiar ring to them. Like you had heard him speak like this before, but you could not recall any concrete details about your relationship with him. Who was he to you? Why did he seem so desperate?

"My dear wife, you are safe now. I will finish the man off. No one should take you away from me." You watched as Malleus sets Levan and Marcellus down beside you, both of your sons appearing frightened and clinging tightly to your skirts with their hands covering their faces.

Your husband turned towards the place where Ace was last seen being thrown at, but there was no sign of him. Malleus's tone was still one of protectiveness and care, but the words had a definite hint of hostility and anger towards the missing Ace.

Later that night, you discovered a pendant sitting neatly upon your study table. Your curiosity compelled you to open the pendant, and a note fell out, scrawled in an unfamiliar hand. You read the words on the note, your breath catching in your throat as you realised the implications.

The note spoke of a desire to rescue you, and your hand trembled slightly as you glanced down at the photo enclosed within the pendant. The photo showed you leaning your head upon Ace's shoulder and your hands gently touching his. Beside the two of you, two young boys are sitting and smiling softly, looking as if they were enjoying the scene.

PART 2 <<, >> PART 4

@d3sperate-enuf

#romance #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x you #malleus draconia x reader #malleus x reader #ace trappola x reader #ace trappola #ace x reader #twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland malleus #twst malleus #ace trappola x you #diasomnia x reader #heartslaybul x reader #disney twisted wonderland #yandere malleus draconia #yandere malleus x reader

[ateliersss]

Avatar

...is part of The Bookshelf

Tsu'tey

Cold Hearted (Series) Summary: Your father was one of the leading scientists during the commencement of the Avatar program and his heavy involvement towards the success of the program secured both you and your brother Elijah places within it. The two of you were placed in a research group with Jake Sully, Grace Augustine, Norm Spellman and Max Patel to carry out vital research in the new environment. In an unexpected series of events, you find yourself at the Omatikaya Clan where you meet Tsu'tey and he instantly takes a strong dislike to you. The two of you find yourselves in a vicious conflict and unbeknownst to you, a long and strenuous journey lies ahead; challenging everything that you once thought you knew.

I Want To See Mama Too (Series) Summary: Seven years ago, you had died alongside Grace while trying to protect Pandora. A few months after your death it was discovered that you were pregnant; leaving Tsu'tey to raise your son Vu'ran without you. But, things start to get strange when Vu'ran is certain he saw you move.

I Trusted You Summary: When the RDA capture you after a surprise attack, Tsu'tey proves that he will do whatever it takes to protect you.

I Changed My Mind Summary: After you overhear some girls insulting you and insisting that Tsu'tey hates you, he does something about it.

How Could I Not? Summary: You had been in love with Tsu'tey for many years, but he had never outwardly reciprocated your love. But when Tsu'tey notices you and your close friend takuk begin to grow even closer; he finally admits his feeling.

Excited Summary: You and Tsu'tey had recently found out that you were pregnant, and Tsu'tey is excited to welcome your child into the world; creating items ready for their arrival.

She Is With Me Summary: You and Tsu'tey are arranged to be mated, yet you can't help but feel that Tsu'tey holds some resentment towards you. But when someone else tries their luck with you, Tsu'tey's protective side comes out.

You Still Protected Me Summary: It had been arranged for you and Tsu'tey to be mated; much to his dismay. He believed that you were only after his title, but he soon realises how wrong he was.

I See You Summary: Tsu'tey is yours.

Tonowari

Karma's a Bitch Summary: Revenge is so much sweeter when it's with your best friend's crush.

Backfire Summary: Part 2 to "Karma's a Bitch".

The Side Effect Summary: It's been a few weeks since your last encounter with Tonowari, but every time you think of the Metkayina leader, your heart begins to race in your chest. You haven't felt this way since the beginning of your adolescence, and your crush on Tonowari is hitting you full-force; deciding it's ultimately best to admit your feelings for him before your father chooses a mate for you.

Crashing Into You (Series) Summary:  Newly appointed Olo'eyktan, a young Tonowari is confronted by the representative of an enemy clan, seeking his help. The problem? An unknown ship is sailing through the Metkayina territories, killing innocent children and animals as they go.

My Paysyul

Forgotten

He Chose You, Didn't He?

His Promise

#avatar #tsu'tey x reader #tsu'tey x you #tsu'tey te rongloa ateyitan #tonowari x reader #tonowari x you #tonowari

[russellius]

THE TIMES: The Formula One driver and his father, Steve, on failed driving tests and sleeping in horseboxes

George

My earliest memories are of living in a mobile home while my parents built a house in a field in the middle of nowhere, near Wisbech in Cambridgeshire. I rode a pedal tractor around the site, hurtling through corners and reversing with a trailer.

At 25 I am the youngest of three. Cara is 37 and works as my personal assistant. Benjy is 36 and caught the karting bug when he was just 11. He was a brilliant driver, becoming a national and world karting champion. Unfortunately, even starting at such a young age, it was already too late for him to have a professional career. I took up karting when I was six and he helped me a lot. Benjy was like a mentor. He eventually gave up racing at university, so Dad’s focus was on me.

I didn’t see much of Dad during the week. He got up early and came home late running a business selling seeds and pulses. As a kid you miss having your father around, but it’s only now that I appreciate he was doing it so I could race at the weekend. Dad didn’t come from a lot and did well to create a successful business. We weren’t poor but we weren’t wealthy like the families of some F1 racing drivers now.

After long hours at work Dad drove us in a camper van to racetracks around the country. It was very much a family affair. Dad was the mechanic, Mum did the cooking and collected data on my driving. When I drove well, there were celebrations and the mood was great but because everyone was so emotionally and financially invested, when I suffered a poor weekend the mood was bad.

Dad has always been hard on the ones he loves. As a young kid, that was difficult to deal with. The pressure didn’t just filter down to me, it affected the whole family. I felt the weight of failure and expectation. If I made a silly mistake and spun off the track, I can now understand why Dad might have thought, “What the hell am I doing this for?” He had to work his arse off to support my racing, so if I didn’t put in enough effort, it must have been hard.

I now live in the world of F1, where tens of millions of pounds are spoken about like peanuts. Even in Formula Two or Three, every driver has to find huge amounts of money to get on the grid — it’s just crazy. When I was 16 and moving up through the ranks, I realised Dad didn’t have that sort of capital. I thought, “Oh shit, if I can’t find that sort of sponsorship or get picked by a team, my F1 dream is gone.”

Winning the F2 championship in 2018 was a big moment but I’ll never forget the day I signed for Williams F1 in September 2018. I was racing in F2 in Sochi, Russia, when Claire Williams, the deputy team principal at the time, called me in and offered a deal. Mum and Dad were the first people I told and they both cried. I told them to save their tears for when I won a race.

I joined Mercedes for the 2022 season, alongside Lewis Hamilton. It was a huge opportunity for me to learn and grow in F1, as well as show what I’m capable of. It was not an easy season for Mercedes but I feel very fortunate to be in this position, plus Lewis is such an incredible bloke on and off the track. He is so experienced, whereas I’m a 25-year-old who is just totally focused on trying to be the best F1 driver I can be. I’m pretty inspired by what he has achieved.

Dad is a strong character but he has become more emotional since his children have left home. He’s also friendlier now and doesn’t mind making a fool of himself from time to time. My only regret is that F1 doesn’t leave much free space to see each other but we do speak on the phone all the time.

Of course he still watches the pennies and will only fly economy — he won’t let me pay for their flights either. I know my parents can afford to fly business but it’s the principle for them. I want to make sure I reach a position with my racing where I can afford to give them the best in their retirement. They totally deserve it.

Steve

The F1 guys are OK on the racetrack but they are never as good as their dads on normal roads. George is always telling me to slow down as we approach a junction, though his mum thinks it’s fantastic when he takes her out and drives quickly.

There was just one occasion when George didn’t put the full effort in and it caused quite a commotion. He failed his first driving test at 17 because he thought that being a great driver on the track was good enough. He came home fuming that the examiner was wrong. We had to go back to the test centre in King’s Lynn so George could confront him. That didn’t go down well.

George was a cheeky little boy, a bit of a comedian. I worked a lot but it’s strange that I can only remember the racing side of his life, not watching him grow up at home. We enjoyed a nice life but had to work hard for it. I came from a family of farm workers with very little money and wanted to get away from agriculture and better myself but I ended up owning a wholesale seed business.

My wife, Alison, and I knew George was going to be a racing driver at the age of two. He was born on the track, coming to races to watch his brother and help out in the garage. He had a toy tractor that he rode around the pit lane and collected stickers from each race to stick on his “George Russell Racing” tractor.

As George progressed through the racing ranks it became more and more expensive. We invested in a motorhome to travel to races — before that I would sometimes sleep in a freezing horsebox. There were sacrifices. Alison and I didn’t go on our first holiday together until two years ago, on a trip to Lanzarote. By then we had been together for 38 years. People think that now George is in F1 we hang out with Lewis Hamilton and Toto Wolff, the Mercedes principal, every weekend in the sunshine, but it couldn’t be further from the truth. Now Alison and I rarely go to races because we don’t want to interfere.

It was hard letting George fly the nest because we had been a close family, always doing our racing together. He is methodical and organised but his feet are firmly on the ground. There are plenty of people in the family to put him straight if needed.

There’s no magic wand to become an F1 driver — it takes hard work and dedication. It was only when I stood on the track with George before his first grand prix that I looked up at the enormous crowd and thought, “Oh my God, we’ve actually got here.”

#george russell #f1 #*m #q #23 #(oh brother) #:) #ch

[ssokkasmoon]

Hiiii! Could you write something for an adult aang x reader? For example, when they got married or had children? (sorry if I wrote something wrong, English is not my first language)

HAVING FAMILY WITH AANG

Aang plans proposal carefully for months, wanting it to be perfect . But you can tell something big is up.

He takes you on a romantic picnic at your secret spot ,the first place you ever bonded. Candles and roses decorate the area.

When you least expect it, as the sun dips low, Aang grabs your hands gently ,holding out the ring with shaking hands.

A heartfelt, speech pours from his lips about how you saved him with your love and changed his life for the better.

Your tears welling up at this vulnerable, sweet side as you softly breathe out "yes".

~

He spotted your mother in the front row, misty-eyed already. Next to her ,sat your friends and team members.

The wedding march began playing and his heart skipped a beat. Slowly, down the aisle walked you on the arm of your father, taking everyone's breath away in your stunning white gown.

Your normally stoic face broke into a breathtaking grin just for Aang when your eyes locked. It was like the whole world drifted away except for the two of you.

You were passed off and the ceremony got underway. Rings were exchanged along with lingering gazes. Finally, "You may now kiss the bride!"

Aang dipped you low as cheers erupted, capturing your lips passionately. The rest of your lives together had begun in that moment.

~

You two live together in your cozy home.

He Wakes up every morning grateful to hold you in his arms, still pinching himself this is real. Makes love to you softly before starting the day.

Starting a family was a big step because of his responsibilities as an Avatar,he was scared of not being a good father ,but you decided to try after a year of getting married. You find out you are pregnant on one year anniversary.

He is attentive and caring through the pregnancy, cooking for your cravings and giving daily massages for aches.

Finally your daughter Lea arrives - the perfect mix of both your features and personalities.

Late nights soothing the baby are worth it to see you radiant as a new mom. Your little family is everything.

After few years you give birth to a boy naming him Sokka after his late bestfriend.

He manages being a good dad alongside his avatar responsibilities, he tries to spend more time with his kids.

After your kids discover their elements ,he helps them practice , helps lea control her airbending ability while you teach your son how to do tricks with fire.

he sometimes worries you by keeping himself in danger, but he promises that he will never do something that will hurt your family.

Date nights keep the spark alive as the kids grow. Your love has only deepened through the years.

Your family continues to grow bigger and you couldn't be happier with your Loving husband and children.

#avatar #avatar the last airbender #avatar atla #atla #avatar preferences #avatar aang #avatar the legend of aang #aang x reader #atla aang #aang #aang x yn

[thehybridgryph]

Various doodles and thoughts of the beloved duo I picked up. Wanted to settle some details and stuff on how I draw them.

Extra thoughts under the cut

Was incredibly good friends with a young Horrorboros couple who were raising the next “king” since neither found themselves capable of fully getting into the fight, already trusting him to help teach their kid proper. The couple was rich and had a good genetic history of proper producing larger, capable salmonid among the smaller children.

Was incredibly good friends with a young Horrorboros couple who were raising the next “king” since neither found themselves capable of fully getting into the fight, already trusting him to help teach their kid proper. The couple was rich and had a good genetic history of proper producing larger, capable salmonid among the smaller children.

After a tragic incident that left the parents dead, Curry went to pick up the slack. Bringing himself out of the rut that left him exhausted, he now cares for Ramen. Something he considers only “the right thing” and “what he would do anyways” and “just a duty to teach the next King”. But as the many months progress and the passion grows, that sweet little face seems to steadily be breaking down that rough exterior…

The two are currently on a constant travel, seeing the land and sea, to go to places few others have gone. To live a fullest life and understand as much as possible, as Curry waits for Ramen to steadily become better suited to more important teachings. For now though, it’s time to take in the sights. To go out where Grizzco never has touched. To try new foods. To learn new cultures. And to carry remembrance of the dead royal family. Although… neither seem willing to talk about it.

Ramen is just incredibly young, still inquisitive with the world and quick to warm up to new faces when he gets past the initial caution. A bit quiet and seldom talks, mostly resorting to action and touch to get things across. Already has a solid grasp of octarian language alongside salmonid, but only really speaks in the latter when he does talk.

He’s still learning how to get a grasp of flight and mostly just sits in a pocket or curled up or slithers around when not wearing his flight gear.

#gryphart #splatoon #splatoon 3 #splatoon oc #curry and ramen #salmonid #cohozuna #horrorboros #salmon run #I wrote all of this shit at 4 am #also based on how horrorboros looks ingame I believe they don’t fly like the zapfish #and use modified octarian tech to fly #since they’re just salmon that get big and have extra gills to assist with their size

[eclipsedpascal]

Starlust | a series

Pairing | Din Djarin x Female reader

The solace of sorgan was sought by many, but one krill farmer had always dreamed of venturing out from the desolate planet and into the stars. Her quaint village had been her only world, so when a Mandalorian and peculiar child present the unsung chance to traverse the galaxy alongside them, she knows she must do anything to take it.

Warnings | Use of blasters. (No use of Y/N, Follows canon closely, Slowburn, Eventual Smut)

Word count | 3.3k

Author's note | This is my first Pedro fic! Wowie. Hopefully, I can keep consistent and update this series regularly. I've also never written a series before? Or slow burn? so I pray this isn't garbage eek. *Not proof read*

˚ ✦ .⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺ ₊⋆ :･ﾟ˚ ｡･ﾟ✧. ✦ ੈ✧̣̇ ˳·˖✶ ˚ . ★⋆ ✦ . ✧ .☽ ˚*✦

The ripples of hot water danced with a pearlescent sheen, reflecting the high sun as it clouded through the rising steam. The pond's surface only fluttered following your movements, its small body swaying with yours as you scanned the depths for Krill. Prancing upwards from the deep, the crustaceans' translucent blue bodies flailed daringly through the air before falling back to the water, leaving dimples and wavelets in their wake that lapped at the water-logged cloth of your hip. A moment of still allowed the water's tension to form, falling back to peace and concealing the teetering Krill within. You stood with heavy hands that held a wicker basket in their grips, edging for a moment of clarity in the foggy depths until you could drive them below. 

Breaking surface, the water sloshed when the shallow wicker dove into it, rising back quickly to display dozens of Krill jerking in every direction, suspended in the steamed air. Pouring your catch to the steepened bucket on the turf behind you, you noted its rim was now flush with blue bodies, some even piling higher than your head currently stood.

Trudging wet boots towards the village centre, you came across the rest of the day's harvest and added your own to the vast collection. It was nearing four weeks since the last Klatooinian attack, and the fruitful harvest before you sat there only because of the help from some peculiar guests still quartered in the barn.

A Mandalorian and an ex Shock-trooper, an unlikely pair, you had thought, but their refuge in the village had liberated your people from a previously ironclad grip of the local Klatooinians. Their tribe had rained terror on the village for years, growing fiercer with each hit and stealing more of the harvest each time they ventured through. The new visitors had taught you to fight, to fend for yourself against the raging attacks, and in doing so, saved you all.

A choir of giggles scampered by you, the children who voiced them near toppling you over as they brushed past, chasing and weaving through the houses and ponds. "Careful!" You smiled them off as they ran, hearing shouted apologies that waned towards their end with the distance already between you.

Among the children running amuck was an unusual boy. A green child with curled white hair spread thinly over wrinkled skin. He stood only a foot tall, his tiny body shrunken inside a beige robe that covered all but his head and three-fingered hands. He was inquisitive by nature, constantly scouring the ponds for Sorgan frogs with his gigantic brown eyes and listening for their hops with his overtly large ears.

He had arrived with the Mandalorian a few weeks before, and the children befriended the little alien immediately. Enamoured by his constant mischief and unnatural hunger, his quirks were like none their young minds had ever known.

But whether or not the beskar man had fathered the child or was merely harbouring him as cargo was unbeknownst to you. The child's lack of a name showed disinterest from his caretaker, and yet he was protective of the boy. Ridiculously so. He hardly let him out of sight, standing by the barn door as he played, back propped against its woven frame and presumably monitoring from behind the unmoving steel of his helmet.

That's where you found him now, standing in watch and holding passing conversation with Cara, your other guest. His stance seemed unfit for a man of his status, armour-clad and weapons-ready, he looked prepared for battle, yet his shoulders slumped, relaxing his weight onto the barn behind him. 

Gurgles and coos branched up from your feet, bringing your attention to the green child below whose hands were outstretched and grabbing towards you. His nails clawed at the dampness of your trouser leg, grip clamping down before you lifted him to settle on the ledge of your hip. "How's my favourite whomp rat?" You proposed your question with what had become a regular nickname for the little scoundrel, and he mouthed a gasping smile when you moved your free hand to tickle his tummy.

Bubbling as he squirmed in your grip, his movements slowed with a yawn, the stretch of his mouth contrasting his tired eyes when they squeezed shut in his exhaustion. Burrowing his head towards your shoulder, the boy had decided to nap in the comfort of your arms rather than return a few extra feet to his doting Mandalorian.

Chuffing at his closeness, you strolled towards the barn with the resting babe clung to your side. "Mando?" catching his attention, his helmet turned to you, lowering slightly as he assessed the tired-out buddle in your arms. 

"Chasing stray Krill must have tuckered him out. Poor guy couldn't even make it back to bed." You chuckled your words, doing your best to converse with the Mandalorian, but you wouldn't pretend it was easy. You found yourself constantly nervous to approach him. His many plates of armour and plethora of weapons certainly didn't paint him as the most inviting to casual conversation. 

"Come're, Kid" He took the child from your arms and cradled him to his chest, beskar helmet peering down and gloved fingers moving to adjust the child's robe to lay over him more comfortably.

The inability to read his features or figure out his modulated tone often left you wondering if the Mandalorian was truly made of flesh or just a freakishly convincing protocol droid. But when you saw the man's affection for the child, you couldn't help but feel you were witness to the naked emotion that strong armour fought so tirelessly to hide. 

You didn't want to slight him. You admired the Mandalorian more than anyone you were yet to meet. To be a benevolent warrior was one thing, but to uphold the strictest creed in the known galaxy with such willingness was devotion you had not seen before. It couldn't help but intimidate you at times.

Cara stood from her seat, discarding her empty Spotchka cup on a nearby table and patting the Mandalorian's right pauldron. Leaning into her grip, she gazed over his shoulder at the creature snoozing in his arms. "It's gonna break his little heart." her hand slipped down the steel, pushing off him as she departed the barn porch.

This puzzled you, eyebrows creasing and lips parting to speak but unsure what to ask. The mandalorian took notice of this and gruffed a sigh through his modulator. He repositioned his stance, his posture correcting itself from its previously relaxed state and muscles tensing to stand taller. 

"Can I have a word?" His sudden solemnity surprised you. You had never surpassed small talk with him before.

"Of course." You didn't protest; there was no need. You were curious to see what the man of steel could be so keen to share.

He entered the barn, placing the child in his crib and allowing him to continue his premature nap. Your damp footing followed only to the uncurtained doorway, stopping to watch the soft action and sleepy babe with adoring eyes from a distance. The barn had been lived in by the trio of outsiders for over a month now, yet the only remnants of their beings were a few ruffled blankets amid hay-bestrewn floorboards and an amban sniper rifle propped precariously against some storage boxes. You had always longed to know what vast treasures could be found off-planet, but it appeared these particular travellers had yet to bring any aside from weapons. You supposed vagabonds like themselves didn't have room for a whole lot of stuff, never mind the galaxy's luxuries.

Coming back around to you, the Mandalorian motioned you to walk with him. And you did. 

The pair of you walked past the seeded ponds, the muddied and soaked turf between them squelching under your feet as you made your way to the skirts of the tree line. It was spring, and the grass was flush with yellow and blue flora. Innumerable blossomed buds peeked through the grass, waiting until you were within reach before their petals folded themselves shut and waiting again until you were again at a safe enough distance to open themselves without danger.

"It's very.. nice here." The Mandalorian halted his movements, turning to face you with hesitant words. They sounded... nervous, you thought.

"I'm glad you think so." You responded with a gentle smile, the sun behind him reflecting off his mirrored helmet and causing you to squint your eyes slightly.

"I think it's clear he's... He's happy here. Safe here." He motioned his hand towards the barn, alluding to the boy soundly asleep inside, unaware of what his caretaker was currently suggesting.

"Yes, he is." You thought back on the countless occasions you had caught the child rummaging through the krill stocks or playing with the other children in the fields. "We all adore him. Both of you."

"I-" he seemed to trip over his words, clearing his throat before speaking again. "I don't belong here."

This wasn't the news you had hoped to hear. The village was eternally grateful to Mando and, in recent times, had grown fond of his forthright company. 

"You could." You took a pause, breathing in the sorgan air and turning to the townsfolk you knew as family and friends still farming their ponds. "You could lead a normal life here. You and the child" You looked back to Mando, his beskar still focused on you. 

"It's better this way. I don't belong here." He repeated his previous words. "Travelling with me. That's no life for a kid. I can't keep him safe." 

You knew he was right. From what you had heard, bounty hunting was a dangerous profession and demanding enough that duelling childcare as a single father alongside it would be too hazardous. Despite his sound reasoning, you couldn't help but fear how the poor child would cope without his company. Stars, he couldn't even let mando stroll through the forests without clinging desperately to his side the entire time. Cara was right. This would break his little heart.

And you would admit, the thought of the Mandalorian leaving cratered deep in your chest too. No more late nights gathered around the fire, listening as he weaved the children vague stories of adventures he'd been on; Blaster battles between the skyscrapers of Coruscant and Bounty hunts through the casinos of Cantonica. You dreamed of it every night you slept and brooded over it each morning you woke. It had been enough to re-spark a flame in your heart suffocated many years ago when you were only a girl. But the star lust you felt as a child paled in comparison to the depraved way you coveted each new morsel of information that sounded from that metal head of his.  

The universe stretched far and wide, yet you had seen none of it. At least with Mando, you had finally heard tales of the galaxy's wonders. Him returning to the stars meant losing that part of yourself all over again, and you weren't ready for that.

"What if-" You stopped your words too late, the beginning of a sentence you felt you had been edging your entire life towards tumbling out before you had decided if it should be said at all. "What if someone could care for him when you couldn't? A helping hand. That travelled with you, I mean. That way, he could stay with you on your ship." 

Silence. He uttered not a single word. Not a grunt or a sigh, not even his breath could be heard through the modulator. Was he considering your offer? Or was he stunned speechless, by the proposal of such a stupid idea? You instantly regretted your crass decision, regretted suggesting something so insane. You barely knew the man. Whilst you had deeply bonded with the child, you hadn't anything more than passing pleasantries with the cryptic Mandalorian. You had never seen his face, never known anything about him aside from the stories of savagery he called a job. You didn't even know his name.

After too long hearing only the birds and distant chatter of people still working nearby, your hot cheeks pushed your lips to a pout, preparing to apologise profusely for suggesting such an insane concept-

"I could use a crew member to help me with the little guy, and I can pay you handsomely." The blunt, baritone way he phrased his static words was nothing abnormal, but his blasé towards your idea without much further questioning was.

Your tongue had been caught before it could speak and was now frozen alongside everything else in your body, apart from your heart; It was racing faster than it ever had.

"Really? You would l-let me come?" You couldn't believe what you were hearing. If you had thought him to be so agreeable, you would have floated the idea weeks ago.

"Yes." His reply was Casual. So matter-of-fact, as if his answer wasn't one you had been antagonising over for your entire life. Of course, he didn't know that, and you hoped to keep it that way. He didn't need to worry about how happy-go-lucky his new crew mate would be just to step foot inside a starship. It would only cause to be another distraction the Mandalorian didn't need.

"O-okay." You nodded, fiddling your fingers around each other in a myriad of patterns. "When would we leave?"

"Soon." The man shifted his weight from one leg to another, taking a brief glance around the town he would soon be bidding farewell. "In the next day or two."

"Right." The realisation of leaving the only home you had ever known began to knock your mind. You were born here, not far from where you stood now. You would be leaving your family, the friends you had once toddled alongside and every comfort you had ever known, all for the risk of travelling alongside a bounty hunter and never knowing when or if you would even return. 

"Are you sure you can handle that?" He said, presumably noticing the staggered expression painting your face.

The thought was enough to make your stomach form summersaults and your sanity plead mercy on the idea of leaving at all. But this was your only chance, and the knowledge of that alone was worth risking everything else to take it. "Yes. I can."

Your confession couldn't help but tug the crease lines of your lips, drawing them to a smile. It was finally your turn.

"We should-" The Mandalorian's words were struck short when the exploding sound of a blaster shot thundered across the village. Within a half-second, Mando had shunned you behind him, pointing his blaster accusing towards the treeline. 

"Go get the kids!" He bellowed, already sprinting towards the noise and encouraging you to do the opposite. 

You and a few others shepherd the children into the barn, reinforcing the curtained door with storage boxes that each held at least three times your weight. The green child had stirred awake from the commotion entering his bedroom. Inspecting him, you took him from the crib and hurridly concealed him against your chest. The children's shallow cries and whispers filled the vapid wicker room, and you did your best to shush them. Holding their trembling bodies in a close huddle, you awaited in perforated silence for further word you were safe.

After five agonising minutes, the storage boxes came crashing to the ground, falling from their positions to the wooden floor with a series of harsh thumps that had you clenching the muscles of your face in a cringe. It was the Mandalorian, his chest falling with a heavy sigh as he reassured the children and concerned residents they were safe. 

His helmet moved to you. Unsure if he was eyeing you or the small boy in your arms, you said nothing. His shoulders slumped forward, the chin of his helmet making contact with his chest plate before raising his T-shaped visor to you both again. 

"Change of plans." His voice scraped through the modulator.

Of course. He wasn't taking you anymore. Your dreams were about to rain down in front of you to be buried among the hay-covered ground and forgotten forever. Your tensed heart raised to the height of your chest, a sour sensation inching its way up from the base of your stomach to the depths of your throat as you anticipated his subsequent words.

"We're leaving today."

˚ ✦ .⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺ ₊⋆ :･ﾟ˚ ｡･ﾟ✧. ✦ ੈ✧̣̇ ˳·˖✶ ˚ . ★⋆ ✦ . ✧ .☽ ˚*✦ 

The shot was Cara's. She had taken out a bounty hunter situated between the trees before he could fire the blaster he had aimed straight into the barn window. The guy had been tracking Mando and the kid since before they even arrived. Apparently, the entire guild was hunting the child. Though Mando wouldn't tell you why he was being stalked, he told you the child would never be safe from the bounty placed on him as long as he stayed stationary. Even sorgan wasn't safe. The option to leave the child and you behind was no longer viable, and your new job as his travelling nanny would be more dangerous than you had once believed.

Bidding goodbye to your home was the hardest thing you had ever done. Separated not only by time, but physical distance, every blade of grass, each droplet of water, and giggle ever shared would rest behind you now. 

Informing your loved ones you were leaving should have had you blubbering enough to fill buckets, but the night had fallen, and the thousands of celestial objects decorating your sky began peering through the trees and whispering to you. There was no need for tears. This was your purpose.

You packed your satchel with haste, avoiding keeping the Mandalorian waiting or annoying him before your journey together had even begun. You grabbed as much clothing as possible, the spread of equality between the shirts and pants was almost definitely wrong, but you didn't have time to care. Pocketing a spotchka heavy flask and a blanket you were sure the little one would nab as soon as he got the chance, you tied the satchel shut and made your way to the waiting haul cart.

The moonlight flickered silhouettes of leafy branches, swaying in the gusts of wind that whistled through the village. The ponds were still now, all earlier activity having ceased and the day having come to its close. Dusk had seeped over the quaint town; the only light source was lanterns hung over doors and one that sat haphazardly on the edge of the haul cart.

You threw the bag to the back of the trailer, getting ready to clamber on when the Mandalorian offered you his guiding grasp. Thanking him, you sat yourself down opposite him. Taking one last glance around as the Mandalorian himself has done earlier in the sunlight. Though, unlike the Mandalorian's casual pass, your eyes had borne the weight of each detail they crossed, growing heavier and heavier until tears formed in their blurred stead.

Wiping your misty eyes, you turned to the beskar man, who tipped his head in question. Are you sure about this? He asked.

Yes. You nodded back.

Smacking the side of the cart with his gloved hands, he signaled the droid to start driving. You waved to the villagers left in your wake, and the little monster beside you did too. 

The stars await.

˚ ✦ .⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺ ₊⋆ :･ﾟ˚ ｡･ﾟ✧. ✦ ੈ✧̣̇ ˳·˖✶ ˚ . ★⋆ ✦ . ✧ .☽ ˚*✦

End note | Part two will hopefully be out in the next week or so,, thank you sm for reading !!❤︎

Tags | @celestialrequiem @rogerthat-steve | if you’d like to be tagged in the future, just let me know :)

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Pedro Pascal imagine #Pedro Pascal x reader #Pedro Pascal self insert #The Mandalorian #The Mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian imagine #The Mandalorian x reader #The Mandalorian x female!reader #Pedro Pascal x female!reader #The Mandalorian self insert #din djarin #din djarin imagine #din djarin x reader #din djarin x female!reader #din djarin self insert #star wars #Star Wars imagine #my wrtitng

[crisiscutie]

How well would the 1st SOLDIER's handle children? Like, imagine they have to take care of a lost child during the mission and they're helping them to get back to their family.

Bonus points: The child is mesmerized by their protectors fighting skills and they try to fight alongside them because it gives them courage

Angeal: He would be pretty good. In that situation, he is very attentive to the child's needs. He'll make sure they're well-fed and hydrated during their tumultuous journey back to their family. Check-ins will be mandatory, especially after tough situations they get into. He'll ensure that the child is comfortable by addressing their feelings and doing what he can to make them feel at ease.

Now, the kid fighting alongside him? HELL NO. While Angeal is moved by their admiration of him, the thought of them getting hurt is too much for him to bear. He will sternly look them in the eye and tell them to get back. He'll lecture them about the dangers of the world when the conflict is resolved. In the lecture, he'll explain why they shouldn't be so quick to fight and that they should cherish their childhoods. It won't last as long as they think. He'll finish the lecture by commending their courage, noting that it's important to have it but even more important to recognize your limits. He'll tell them to fight for their dreams when they're older and stronger. When he returns the child to their family, he is full of joy when he sees the parent's faces light up with relief and happiness. Families should always stick together. Now to attend to another child puppy under his care…

Sephiroth: Really depends on the kid. Wild brats? He'd be glad to be rid of them. Good-natured and well-behaved kids will grow on him. Honestly, he'd be somewhat grumpy initially, regardless. But our Crisis Cutie will be determined to fulfill his duty by ensuring the child comes home safely. He is so preoccupied with his mission, the child's needs will be met with minimum care. Depending on how long he is with the kid, he may ask questions about their feelings and maybe even gain insight into the child's character.

When the child tries to join fights, He's just as strict as Angeal, but even more so due to his desire to keep the child from hindering his mission. With time, though, he will develop a soft spot for them. He deeply respects the innocent love they have for him and their bravery sparks his interest, despite knowing they had no chance against his enemies. He'd feel some sadness when the mission finishes, but knowing the child is safe with their family will make him happy. He would later sit and ponder if his family was still out there somewhere, missing him, if he had any family to miss him at all. Haha, why is he thinking about that?

Genesis: He'd be decent, actually. For the mission: he'd be responsible like his friends, most of the time. He'd feel indifferent about the kid, but when they inquire about the book he was reading during rest time, his mako eyes would brighten up…. Yeah, he'd totally take this opportunity to talk about LOVELESS. And when the kid is somehow following along while showing interest, he'd nurture them into a devoted fan of it. Hell, he will even make his own abridged, child friendly version of it for the kid to role-play. He'd obviously omit the darker aspects of it and simplify some complexities while retaining the meaning for the game's sake.

When the kid is mesmerized by his fighting abilities, he'd use some more dazzling techniques to make them awestruck. Later, there was a fight that deepened his bond with the child. When they struck their opponent with a surprise heavy hit, Genesis was impressed and quickly seized the chance to end the fight. Afterwards, he flashed them a beaming smile as he declared that the goddess values bold heroes. For future fights, he tries steering them away from the conflict. Might give them something to play with or even have them act as a support. He's awed by the kid's bravado, but them going beyond their limits makes him uneasy. When he returns the kid home, he'll give himself a pat on the back for getting another great mind to enjoy his beloved fiction. Poor kid's parents will have to keep hearing about LOVELESS for the rest of their formative years…

#sephiroth #ff7 sephiroth #How Genesis Met The Future President Of His Fan Club #angeal hewley #genesis rhapsodos #final fantasy 7 #final fantasy vii #ff7 headcanons #final fantasy x reader #sephiroth x reader #angeal hewley x reader #genesis rhapsodos x reader

[foreveranevilregal]

Encantober Day 21: Age

She was twenty-five years old. One day, she had been married to the love of her life; eagerly awaiting the arrival of their little blessing, which turned out to be little blessings. The next, she was widowed and alone with three babies, far away from the home where she had grown up. How she was supposed to do this alone, she couldn’t say. It would have been hard enough raising triplets with help. Every day, she passed by the portrait of Pedro that had somehow been hanging up in the house as soon as it rose out of the ground, running her hand along the frame lovingly. Whenever she did that, the stairs did a tap dance in response. She had a sneaking suspicion that the house and Pedro were connected, but she shook it off, figuring she was just sleep deprived. Taking care of three babies was hard, but to see them growing every day, discovering the world around them…

He should have been here for this.

___

She was twenty-six years old. Today was her birthday. The first one since…well. Since they had moved to their encanto. She didn’t feel up to celebrating, but the townspeople had graciously dropped off some food and a cake they had made for her. Chocolate, her favorite. Pedro’s favorite too. He’d had such a sweet tooth. Alma could barely finish any sweets she had without him trying to steal them from her. Still, she thought sadly, she would give him this entire cake just to have him back again. She would give anything.

 He should have been here for this.

___

She was twenty-six years old. The triplets were turning one. They had grown so much! Despite being the same age, they were so different. Pepa was the easiest to tell apart. She was fair and had tufts of red hair sticking out all over her head. Out of the three, she’d been the first to talk, and she cried the loudest. If you dared ignore her, she’d scream like la Llorona. Bruno had started walking first, but he was by far the quietest. Alma had to keep a special eye on him to keep him from getting hurt. Julieta had beautiful big brown eyes and dark brown curls. She’d burbled happily before she could talk and kept reaching out her chubby little hands towards others. Oh, the townspeople adored them! The celebration they gave to the three miracle babies of the encanto was unforgettable. But there was one part she wished she could forget.

He should have been here for this.

___

She was thirty years old. Somehow, she had made it through the triplets’ infancy and toddlerhood. Surely it would be easier from here on out. If anything, all four of them were sleeping through the night, even Pepa, who’d had a few rough months. Of course, hope was futile; a lesson she should have learned five years prior. On the triplets’ fifth birthday, she awoke to three brand new doors, shimmering mysteriously in the hallway. When she went to inspect them, she saw that each doorknob had a different letter carved into it- the triplets’ initials.

By this point, the children had woken up and followed her to the doors. Pepa’s big green eyes lit up with joy as she opened the door to her new room. Suddenly, she realized she had her own personal rainbow hanging over her head. Shouting in shock, she backed away.

That was when Bruno unexpectedly warned her that she’d trip over the banister.

Indeed, Pepa went tumbling over, sliding down the stairs and skinning her knee. Immediately, she broke out into tears, and was even more surprised to feel rain rolling down her cheeks alongside her tears.

Julieta ran down the stairs and went into the kitchen, grabbing an arepa that had been waiting for breakfast. She offered it to Pepa, the way she’d seen Alma do when they got hurt, to distract her from her pain. As soon as she took a bite, the redness on her knee cleared up and the skin healed over.

Alma almost fell over in shock herself. Without any rational explanation, her children had somehow seemingly acquired abilities that were nothing short of magic. Pepa affected the weather. Julieta could heal. And Bruno…could he see the future? Ay. She rubbed her temples. Things wouldn’t be easy after all.

That night, when she brushed her hair before bed, she noticed her first gray hair. The first sign she was getting older.

He should have been here for this.

___

She was forty years old. Amazingly, she had managed to keep her three magical children alive and they getting ready for Julieta and Pepa’s quinceañera. A joint party, of course, but one so lively that no one would miss a second party. Sometime in the last few years, it felt like the veil over Alma’s life had lifted. Colors brightened. Shapes sharpened. And music sounded sweet again. For the first time in a long time, she had allowed herself to dance again. She missed her Pedro, but there was nothing she could do to bring him back. Besides, she and the children had survived. They were safe, and more than safe- they were thriving! Thanks to the triplets’ magical gifts, Alma could give back to the community that had supported them through those first few perilous years. She could try to pay back the massive debt she had accumulated that weighed on her for all those years.

And so she danced! Despite the many quiet years, her feet remembered the steps and carried her from one song to the next. The twinge of pain in her knees was new; she’d certainly never experienced that before while dancing. But no matter; she wouldn’t let it ruin her night! Just like she wouldn’t let the way Pepa swished her skirts around when boys were watching ruin it. Or the way Bruno danced with Julieta because otherwise she’d spend much of the night sitting. These girls needed their papá around; to raise them, to love them, to show them what a man was supposed to be. To dance with them on their special night.

He should have been here for this.

___

She was forty-seven years old. It was Pepa’s wedding day. Pepa would be marrying a wonderful man; one who loved her and would take care of her like Pedro promised to do for Alma. Her heart was overflowing with joy for her daughter. Even though the hurricane had been catastrophic, at the end of the day, Pepa had gone home with her husband. And Alma had not.

He should have been here for this.

___

She was fifty years old. This time it was Julieta’s wedding day. She too was marrying a man who promised to love her and cherish her, through anything life would throw at them. Her wedding had been a calmer affair, though no less joyous. Alma laughed, and she cried, and she wasn’t sure which one was giving her more wrinkles around her eyes. But just like Pepa, Julieta did not have her papá at her wedding.

He should have been here for this.

___

She was fifty-three years old. Her first grandchild, a beautiful baby girl, had just been born. Julieta cradled her proudly, humming to soothe her as the baby cried. Alma couldn’t keep the tears out of her own eyes. She was a grandmother. Soon, any day now by the looks of Pepa’s belly, she’d be one again. A joy she should have shared.

He should have been here for this.

___

She was fifty-five years old. Another granddaughter was born. Alma rocked her to sleep in her arms, ignoring the way her joints would seize up sometimes. Their family had been so blessed over the years.

He should have been here for this.

___

She was fifty-eight years old. Isabela, who had just turned five, got a gift of her own! She could make the most beautiful flowers appear. Just like the ones Pedro gave to her. Shortly after, little Dolores also got a gift; able to hear anything no matter how quiet. The magic was growing.

He should have been here for this.

___

She was fifty-nine years old. Her eyesight was growing weaker, but there was no mistaking that this newest Madrigal baby, with his crooked grin and floppy curls, would be beautiful, just like his mamá and papá. Even after all these years, Alma instinctively turned to her side to hand him the baby.

He should have been here for this.

___

She was sixty years old. Another wonderful baby girl. Alma felt something special as she held her in her arms. The girl looked up at her with large inquisitive eyes. She would have been Pedro’s favorite, Alma knew in her heart.

He should have been here for this.

___

She was seventy years old. They had not been expecting any more little blessings, but Antonio had decided to surprise them all, with his wild curls and infectious smile. Alma felt her back stoop as she held him. Even at such an old age, she was blessed to see new life begin. But she wished she could have been blessed to share that old age with her love.

He should have been here for this.

___

She was seventy-one years old.

She was seventy-two years old.

She was seventy-three years old.

She was seventy-four years old.

She was seventy-five years old.

He should have been here for this.

He should have been here for this.

He should have been here for this.

He should have been here for this.

He should have been here for this.

#alma madrigal #pedro madrigal #pepa madrigal #bruno madrigal #julieta madrigal #isabela madrigal #dolores madrigal #luisa madrigal #camilo madrigal #mirabel madrigal #antonio madrigal #encantober #alma x pedro #foreveranevilregal writes #writing encanto #encantober 2023 #age #tw pregnancy mention #trying something different with this one #i mathed out the ages from numbers i got online #so if i got them wrong no i didn't #made myself real sad writing this #an influx of sympathy for alma was not on my bingo card for this year

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

The Silver Dragon (7/?)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Original Female Character

Word Count: 3867

Story Summary: Lady Arianwyn Targaryen, the Lady of Runestone, was seeded by her father, the Rogue Prince Daemon Targaryen, in an act of unbridled hatred, and borne of her mother, the late Lady Rhea Royce, as a desperate grasp at revenge.

Ignored by her father, and alone following the death of her mother, she is raised in King’s Landing alongside her cousin, Prince Aemond Targaryen. As they grow, the two find themselves indelibly bonded. But their lives are far from the fairy tales they read, and as tensions in the family rise, they find their paths may diverge.

Will they be pulled apart when the dragons dance?

Chapter Summary: After overhearing a conversation between Prince Daemon and Corlys Velaryon at dinner, Aemond recruits Arianwyn to help him achieve a lifelong dream.

Warnings: None.

Series Masterlist

Author’s Note: I told y'all this would be long!

Taglist: @thelittleswanao3, @trap-house-homiecide

The Beach

The dining room at High Tide seemed warmer that evening, more inviting. Before, Arianwyn had only noticed the imposing pointed spires of the chairs and how the ashy wood of the table seemed to enhance the cold stone of the walls – a coldness reflected in her father’s eyes.

Now, as Arianwyn entered the room along with the Queen and Helaena, warm yellow candlelight filled the room, along with the voices of the gathered crowd. Having spent their tears at the funeral and subsequent reception earlier in the day, the family had moved on to cautious happiness. They still held each other for comfort – whether through embraces, held hands, or arms around shoulders – but rather than sharing their woes, they instead told stories of joy.

As she moved through the crowd, Arianwyn heard tale after tale of Lady Laena. Of her prowess as a dragonrider, claiming Vhagar, the largest dragon in the world, when she was only thirteen. Of how she had skillfully maneuvered the massive beast in careful dances with Caraxes, awing the royalty and nobility of Pentos. She heard of Laena’s warmth and grace, how she charmed everyone she met within mere moments. She heard of her deep love for her daughters, and how in her final days, she had begged Daemon to let them return to Westeros to raise the girls – and their unborn child – in their true home, among family.

How such a woman not only married but seemingly truly loved Daemon was beyond Arianwyn’s understanding.  

Still, Arianwyn listened with great interest to the stories of her late stepmother until the party was finally called to eat. Thankfully, Arianwyn was placed on the opposite end of the table as her father. The entire Velaryon family – incAluding, to the surprise of many, Princess Rhaenyra and her children – took the seats surrounding the head of the table, where Lord Corlys himself sat. For any other Lord, the consequences would have been severe for setting the King and his party so far down the table, but Viserys had always given the Sea Snake an unusual amount of grace.

            Arianwyn was comfortably seated at the opposite end of the table, among those she considered her own: the King and Queen, Aemond and Helaena, and even Aegon and Otto Hightower. If she focused enough on the conversation surrounding her, she could almost forget anyone else was there.

            Nevertheless, whenever she slipped into that sense of security and belonging, she was inevitably torn back to reality by Daemon laughing at the other end of the table. Arianwyn quickly decided that it was her least favorite sound in the world.

It was after one particularly infuriating bout of laughter from Daemon toward the end of the meal, as someone at his end of the table was telling a gruesome war story, that Aemond reached out to place his hand on Arianwyn’s wrist.

He had not seen her since the reception that afternoon. Nor had his mother told him anything about the meeting, but from the hardened look on Arianwyn’s face and the slight tinge of red around the rims of her grey eyes, he knew it had not gone well.

She froze at his touch, turning to look at him for the first time that evening.

He offered her a weak smile, but when she did not return it, his face swiftly fell into concern. “What did he say to you, Aria?”

“Not much,” she grimaced through her answer, dragging her fork through what remained of the pale pink frosting that had covered her dessert. “Nothing kind.”

Aemond dropped his hand. “I’m sorry,” was all he could think to say. His own father had not shown much interest in his younger children since the birth of Rhaenyra’s sons, but he still knew his father did love him. He could not imagine living without a father for so long only to have him be unkind when he finally showed his face.

He looked down at his own dessert, a small cake flavored with rich butter and vanilla and shaped to resemble a sea star. He had already eaten one of the five “legs” but now felt himself losing his appetite. So Aemond reached across Arianwyn’s plate to grab her fork and carefully transferred the cake from his plate to hers with both hands.

“Here,” he said. “You really liked yours, so finish mine.”

She did smile back at him then – she had never been so sad that cake could not cheer her. As she ate, Aemond found himself staring at her. She looked different tonight. There was a hard set to her eyes that had not been there before. It made her look older, stronger, and even more beautiful. As the thought crossed his mind, he turned sharply away. When had she become beautiful?

“How long do you think Vhagar will remain on my beach, Daemon?” Corlys asked his son-in-law. “Her presence here has started to unsettle my men. Especially with no rider to control her.”

Vhagar.Laena’s dragon – the oldest and largest in the world – was still here?

“I imagine she’ll depart with us tomorrow,” Daemon answered. “She followed us dutifully from Essos, so I imagine she’ll fly with us wherever we head next.” He smiled proudly as he lifted his cup towards his youngest daughter. “Our hope is that Rhaena will claim her, once she’s had some time to train with the Dragonkeepers.”

Aemond’s pulse quickened. Not only was the most fearsome dragon in the world here, on Driftmark, but she remained unclaimed. Adrenaline raced through his veins, but he forced his face to remain passive, as if he hadn’t just heard the answer to years of prayer.

He spent the remainder of dessert formulating a careful plan. When at last, their host stood from the table and began to invite his guests to the library for drinks, Aemond grasped Arianwyn’s hand with all his might.

“What is it?” she asked.

Aemond looked deep into her steely eyes, hoping that his voice carried enough weight in his voice to show her how serious he was. “After we’re sent to our rooms, wait half an hour, then meet me in the hall. There’s something I must do, and I need your help. Promise?”

For a few heart-pounding moments, she just stared at him, bewildered. But then she turned her head, examining him as if seeing his face for the first time. With a mischievous smile, she nodded. “I’ll be there.”

Aemond thanked all the gods –old and new – that Aegon was finally old enough to join the adults for drinks. He could not have stood his brother’s prodding and teasing as he tore through the books on the Velaryons and Driftmark that he had brought with him to pass the time on the ship. Nor did he trust that Aegon would have stood by while he snuck out of their shared quarters. If he was lucky, his brother would be so drunk that he would not find his way back until the morning.

He only had to wait in the hallway for a few moments before he saw the door to the girl’s quarters crack open. Ever cautious, Arianwyn glanced warily around the corridor before she emerged. She wore the heavy black cloak from her riding leathers, the thick material sweeping along the floor as she approached Aemond.

“I’m here,” she whispered. “What is this about?”

Aemond unrolled a piece of parchment he had tucked in his belt. On it was a crudely drawn map of Driftmark, with a large “X” marked just south of the castle. He held the map out, indicating the marked area with his thumb.

“There are only a few areas of beach large enough for Vhagar,” he said, excitement ringing in his voice. “I thought that since –”

“Vhagar?” Arianwyn exclaimed, looking up from the map to stare at her cousin incredulously. “Why would you want to find…?” Realization dawned on her face, followed immediately by an overwhelming dread. When he had asked that she meet him, she thought they would be sneaking into Lord Corlys’ private study to find a rare book, notthis. “Aemond, you cannot possibly mean to claim her!”

He sighed, lowering the map. A deeply pained desperation painted his face. “There are no more dragons in the world, Aria. If I cannot claim her, then I shall never be a dragonrider.”

“But you don’t know that for sure! Syrax and Dreamfyre could bring forth new eggs. And there are reports of wild dragons every year!” She pulled her cloak tightly around her as she pleaded with Aemond, the chill of fear creeping through her.

But Aemond only scoffed. “Rhaenyra will keep Syrax’s eggs for her own family. And any eggs from Dreamfyre would be set aside for Aegon and Helaena’s heirs.” He stepped toward Arianwyn, forcing her attention to his face. “Besides, do you really think I have a better chance of finding and taming a wild dragon than I do claiming Vhagar? She has been ridden by a Targaryen for nearlytwo hundred years.”

Arianwyn could not deny his logic, nor the determination on his face. She had never seen him so sure of anything. But she had seen the aftermath of his failed attempts at claiming other dragons – weaker dragons. She could not bear to see what Vhagar might do should she reject him.

“What about Baela?” she asked. “Vhagar was her mother’s. Surely she must have hopes to claim her?”

Aemond blinked as something like regret passed over his face, but it soon vanished, replaced by a resolute fire that set his violet eyes ablaze. His voice was cool and steady as he spoke, “If Baela is meant to be Vhagar’s rider, then she will not accept me.”

That was precisely Arianwyn’s fear. But as he held her gaze, unwavering, she knew that there was nothing she could say to dissuade him. “If I refuse you, and remain here, you will still go?”

“I don’t want to,” he said, “but yes. Ineeddo this. I have no other choice.”

Arianwyn nodded, attempting to calm her own nerves. “Very well. Then you will not be alone.”

Aemond, in the little time he had to prepare, had made an excellent plan, though Arianwyn was loathe to admit it.

 His map, which he had copied from the navigator aboard the King’s ship, indeed showed that there were only a small number of beaches on the island that would fit a beast as large as Vhagar. Only one was close to the castle. And, as Aemond reasoned, if the she-dragon was loyal enough to the memory of Lady Laena to follow her family across the Narrow Sea, she would want to stay close to them at High Tide.

So, Aemond and Arianwyn ventured through the dark corridors of the castle. They moved in complete silence, relying only on the tilt of a head or the subtle movement of their eyes to signal their route. Keeping to the shadows Aemond knew so well to avoid detection, they made their way to the Sea Gate, a covert escape route explicitly built for the Velaryon family in case of invasion.

The path led to a narrow stairway descending a steep cliff. Arianwyn’s first instinct was to call for Emrys to fly them down. But sensing her intentions, Aemond took her hand and squeezed to stop her. He knew that to do so would alert all those in the castle that something was awry. Nothing could jeopardize what he was about to do.

Walking hand in hand for balance, the two made their way down the stairs to the uneven rocks of the beach below. Though they were no longer at risk of falling, Aemond still held Arianwyn’s hand in his own. Curiously amused by his newfound confidence, she did not move to let go. Instead, she allowed him to take the lead, pulling her behind him as they made their way across the beach.

Rock gave way to loose sand the further they strode from the castle, slowing their progress. Tall, dry grasses and large patches of scrub were their only relief from the difficult terrain. With no sun in the sky, it was hard to tell exactly how long they walked on the beach.

Whether it was mere minutes or long hours, Arianwyn did not care. Though her heart pounded, anticipating the worn bronze scales of Vhagar over every dune they climbed, this was still the most peace she had since arriving on this gods-forsaken island.

She had only begun contemplating why she didn’t feel as afraid as she should when Aemond gave another sharp squeeze to her hand, pulling them both down to crouch beneath the crest of a large dune. Arianwyn shivered when he released her hand, pointing just ahead of them.

Vhagar.

Though she had long heard stories of the three great dragons that her ancestors had used to claim Westeros, nothing could have prepared her for the sheersizeof the ancient she-dragon.

If Emrys was large enough to carry two riders, Vhagar could hold an entire army. Her skull alone was larger than most of the dragons Arianwyn had seen, and just one of her massive, leathery wings – even folded in as she slept – was longer than Emrys’ wingspan thrice over.

As she beheld the beast, Arianwyn couldn’t help by wonder why Aegon and his sisters had stopped with the Seven Kingdoms. With dragons like this, they could have conquered the entire world.

She was broken from her thoughts when Aemond began to raise himself from the ground, his fists clenched. On instinct, she reached out to grab his ankle. He turned, looking down at her with a questioning gaze.

Though her heart was nearly bursting with things she wanted to say, all she managed to choke out was “Please.”

There were many requests contained in that one simple word.

Please. Do not fail, for I long to see you fly.

Please. Be careful, for I do not want to see you hurt.

Please. Do not go, for I cannot bear to live without you.

She could only hope that her voice was able to express it all before releasing his leg. Aemond smiled down at her. Then, he was gone.

Arianwyn could only watch as he made his way across the sand toward the sleeping beast. Her heart thundered in her chest, drowning out the sounds of the wind and sea.

Aemond approached slowly, though his steps were heavy in the coarse sand. Still, Vhagar did not wake. Even when the birds resting on her back flew away as the boy grew ever closer, the great dragon remained asleep.

He stopped, some twenty feet from her side, to gaze upon her saddle. It was made of a well-aged brown leather, and held on by countless ropes around the dragon’s chest, forming a makeshift ladder upon her massive side. His hands and feet itched to climb it – to mount the fearsome beast.

But he remembered his lessons with the Dragonkeepers well. Without a dragon of his own to distract him, for years he had little to focus on but the words of the monks. He would not mount her yet. Not until she was his, and only his.

Resuming his approach, he reached out his arm, adrenaline tingling through his fingers in anticipation. He slipped past one of the massive ropes, at last laying his hand on her scaly hide. It was not as smooth as Emrys’; each scale was rough and weathered – though whether by age or battle, Aemond did not know.

He was ripped from his thoughts when he heard a snapping behind him and looked over to see an orange eye, wider than a plate, staring at him. He stepped back as the great dragon lifted her head, nostrils flaring and teeth bared. Those golden eyes narrowed as she assessed the small creature before her.

Aemond knew she was relying most on a sense which he could not see. It was one of the first things the Dragonkeepers taught to young riders. Beyond their physical senses, dragons had the mysterious ability to gaze deep into a person’s soul, revealing their true nature and intentions. To fully bond with a dragon, an aspiring rider had to first acknowledge what the dragon saw.

Look at me, Aemond thought.See me for all that I am. I am the second-born son of Viserys Targaryen, and a Prince of the Realm. I am the descendant of your first rider, Visenya Targaryen, with whom you conquered this land. I am kin to Laena Velaryon, whom you so recently lost. I am the Blood of the Dragon, and I am here to claim you.

With a single, slow blink, Vhagar turned away.

Taking the gesture as an invitation, Aemond reached once more for the ladder.

But Vhagar whipped her head back to him, and released a low, rumbling roar. On her hill, Arianwyn could only watch and pray as the she-dragon opened her jaws and the night was illuminated by the fire churning in the back of her throat.

“Dohaerās!” Aemond shouted, raising a hand as he refused to shrink back. “Dohaerās, Vhagar! Lykirī! Lykirī!”Obey. Obey me and stay calm.

Though her fire still burned, Vhagar let it cool slightly as she again looked down at the boy in front of her.

His breath shaking, Aemond again reached out with his thoughts for the she-dragon, this time admitting to her the truth he had never given voice to before.

Look at me. See me for all that I am. I am a second son; I will never ascend a throne, and I will never wear a crown. I shall never claim glory as Visenya did, nor be as fierce and well-loved as Laena. Though I may ride you into battle, I will never conquer a land as you did with Balerion and Meraxes. When your legend is told, I shall be counted least among those who were blessed to ride you. I am fearful, and I am unsure. But I am the Blood of the Dragon. I am a true-born Targaryen Prince.

I am Aemond Targaryen, and I mean to claim you.

The shrieking roar faded in Vhagar’s throat, along with her fire. She brought her snout ever closer to the young Prince’s outstretched hand, until her warm scales rested against his palm.

As the contact was made, a surge ran throughout Aemond’s blood, warming him to his very bones. As the pupils narrowed in Vhagar’s orange eyes, he could almost hear a rumbling voice in the back of his mind.

I see you, Aemond Targaryen. And I claim you.

Arianwyn let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding as she watched Aemond at last grasp the ropes that hung on Vhagar’s side and climb into the saddle. She felt his joy reflected in her own face as he held the reins and commanded the Queen of Dragons herself.

“Sōvēs!” He shouted.Fly. “Dohaerās, Vhagar! Sōvēs!”

The earth itself seemed to shake as the dragon pulled herself up from where she had rested. She let out a mighty roar, nearly throwing Aemond and she shook the sand from her hide. But he hung on, gripping the horns of the saddle with all his might as he was at last carried into the skies.

Vhagar roared again, the sound almost like laughter. She looked back towards the boy in the saddle, as if to say “Hold on, little Prince. Let me show you how Laena grew to be so fierce.” The great bronze dragon climber higher and higher in the air, until the castle of High Tide looked a mere speck on the ground below.

Then, she dove.

The ground came faster and faster the closer they got, and Aemond realized with a jolt of fear that Vhagar was aimed directly at the hill were Arianwyn still crouched. Only moments before their impact, he gathered the reins and pulled with all his might. With an agility that far outmatched her size, Vhagar surged up at the last second to avoid disaster. All Arianwyn suffered was a light spray of sand as the end of Vhagar’s tail brushed over the dune.

Arianwyn at last stood as she watched the great dragon soar above her, graceful despite her massive size. Her heart soared in her chest as she heard Aemond’s screams of fear transform into whooping shouts of victory that echoed throughout the cliffs and waters of Driftmark. She had not felt joy like this since her own first flight on Emrys.

Vhagar continued out over the sea, an amused shriek escaping as she maneuvered through a flock of gulls. Eager to impress her new rider, she flew close to the surface of the water, tilting slightly to dip the tip of each wing under the surface before pulling up, a rain of her own creation falling from her back as she once more climbed toward the stars.

After a few more heart-pounding moments that seemed to Aemond to last both heartbeats and an eternity, he finally landed Vhagar back on the beach where they had left Arianwyn. He dismounted and walked to her head, running a hand over her snout as he whispered his gratitude in Valyrian. She let out a puff of hot air, warming him from the chill of the sky and mussing his already windblown hair. While affectionate, it was a gesture of dismissal. Vhagar was ready to resume her rest.

So Aemond patted her scales once more before running back up the dunes to meet Arianwyn. She stood atop the hill, hands clasped in front of her, entirely unprepared for the tight embrace he claimed her in, lifting her up and spinning her around the beach.

“Did you see, Aria?” he yelled, undeniable joy in his voice. “Did you see how she flew?”

Laughing as she slapped his back to be let down, Aria smiled through her words. “I saw! I saw it, Aemond! It was simply amazing.”

He beamed at her, cheeks flushed. “Let’s hurry back to the castle, I want to tell my mother straight away!” He retook her hand, running back across the beach as fast as he could.

They laughed the entire way, Aemond recounting his flight with all the dramatic flair he could muster, as if Arianwyn had not witnessed the whole thing. They did not quiet until they were back in the tunnel of the Sea Gate, and saw four figures running toward them.

It was their cousins – Jace, Luke, Baela, and Rhaena. They all stared at Aemond with a measure of surprise and fury. With the cold look in her eyes, Rhaena at last reminded Arianwyn of their father.

“It’s him,” Rhaena spat.

Aemond dropped Arianwyn’s hand, but did not slow his pace. He was a dragonrider now – the claimant to the largest dragon in the world. Say what they may, his cousins could harm him no longer.

With all the confidence of the world, he spoke: “It’s me.”

Next Chapter

#aemond targaryen #aemond #aemond one eye #aemond fanfic #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond x oc #house of the dragon aemond #house of the dragon #hotd aemond #hotd

[autisticlifelessons]

Tips for helping your autistic child thrive at home

So, I'm not a parent myself, but I did grow up in a household where both myself and my sibling (both AFAB) had undiagnosed autism, and we're pretty sure our father is autistic, too. I've also got some teaching experience where I supported neurodivergent children and their families. Based on this experience and my own research, here are some tips you can use at home to help your autistic child thrive. These are biased towards my particular experience and may not apply to your own child, but they should give you an idea of the sorts of things you can do.

Give lots of emotional reassurance - the world is seriously overwhelming for an autistic child. Children's brains are still developing, and the younger they are or the greater their needs are the more help they will need with co-regulation of their emotions. Bear in mind that, especially for AFAB children, they may mask heavily at school and present absolutely no behavoural problems only to come home and explode. This is because home is their safe place where they can show more authentically how they are really feeling.

Be led by your child's needs and interests, and be prepared for these to change over time - many autistic people develop intense interests in specific things, which are known as 'special interests'. The stereotypical special interests most people have heard of are things like trains, but be aware that some girls who are really, REALLY into ponies are actually expressing neurodivergent traits. Showing your support for exploring these interests is hugely beneficial (and makes present buying a breeze lol). Of course, autism is a spectrum and presents differently in different autistic people. Many like the structure of a routine, for example, but don't force a visual timetable on your child if this is clearly something that isn't helping them. As your child gets older, their interests and needs will change with them, so be prepared to adapt and keep the lines of communication open.

Be prepared to give your child extra support navigating friendships and social situations - for many autistic people, social situations are highly stressful for lots of different reasons, and for children who are still learning how to navigate in the world this is doubly true. Encourage your child to develop friendships with others who respect them, but accept that they may not always communicate in ways that are socially expected (eg they may prefer parallel play). Autistic children can sometimes be more vulnerable to bullying or being taken advantage of, so ensure your child knows how to communicate boundaries and what to do if another child (or adult) is causing problems. In more general social situations such as going to the doctor or on holiday, your child may be more anxious and unsure of what is expected of them. Practicing these situations before hand through 'make believe' play is a great way of giving them a chance to develop the appropriate social scripts and feel more at ease.

Be aware that co-morbid conditions are often present alongside autism - it is very common that autistic children will have at least one other physical or mental co-morbid condition (basically means it occurs alongside). My sibling, for example, also has ADHD, PTSD, BPD, anorexia, dyscalculia, anxiety, depression, IBS, anaemia, eczema and insomnia (and yes I DID get permission to share that, it's all in their insta bio anyway). Be on the lookout for other symptoms not necessarily covered by autism and advocate for your child to get the support they need. Another thing to bear in mind is that autism often runs in families - if you or your child's other biological parent recognise traits either in yourselves or in family members, there's probably a reason why.

I really hope my tips were useful to you. As I mentioned already, your child may have very different support needs from me. You know them best.

Follow me for more tips - both for autistic adults and teenagers and parents of autistic children.

#autism #autistic tips #actually autistic #autistic #autistic child #parenting #children #neurodivergent #neurodiversity #neurodiverse #special education #autistic parenting #education #families #audhd