#even if it's my father watching something I Must Join In

[dante-mightdie]

A small req? Wheree we're a milf and our incel son eventually joins the military (you choose if he joins the military or meets at a bar I ain't gaf) and meets Ghost, 141 whatever. He brings Ghost home to his basement room(or the 141 bb do whatever you want) and ghost is surprised n shi that we this incel momma when we com with snacks or something like 'get outta here mom you're embarrassing me Infront of my new friends!" Is our sons reaction or sum. And ghostie pookie excuses himself up to the bathroom to sloppily makeout with us 🥺

nobody look at me i’m foaming at the mouth

c/w: simon is kinda strange but in a weird sexy way, mentions of misogyny, talks of sex must no actual smut, housewife kink kinda

it’s no secret that your son is a nasty little misogynistic shit. everyone on base has had the experience of standing next to him on a night as out when he gets a drink thrown in his face by whatever girl is he was chatting to

they’d been there every time he dogs out in front of everyone when you visit him on base. watching your eyes well up when your son tells you that he doesn’t like your new haircut or dress, that you’re too old to wear stuff like that

simon tried not to judge, appearances can be deceiving. perhaps you’re not all smiles and baked goods, maybe you’re an awful mother behind the scenes. he really tried. until he found out the real reason your son treats you like shit…

“she made my dad leave. he told me after they divorced that she wasn’t giving him what he needed, that’s why he had to go and get it somewhere else.” your son finally admitted one night after going through half case of beer

simon felt his hand tighten around his bottle as your son continued to ramble about how you were always busy with shit jobs. waitressing, cleaning or retail. he spent most of his childhood never getting all the latest toys and clothes because you could never afford it, too busy catching up on late bills to make sure there was a roof over both of your heads

“she’s so selfish.”

‘fuck being non-judgmental’ simon thinks. this kid doesn’t know how lucky he is. having a such a lovely mum like you, never losing your patience with your son even when he treats you like dirt. always trying to greet him with a hug or kiss just for him to push you away. begging him to call when he’s away just so you can know your boy is safe :(

“sounds like your mad at your mum for being the one that stuck around, lad.” price buts in, shaking his head with a small laugh.

you had been a topic of discussion the night after your first visit to the base. the product of a few glasses of bourbon shared between simon and john

“did you see the new recruits mother? fuckin’ hell, if I were 10 years younger I’d be all over that.” price admitted, adjusting his hips as he leaned back in his desk chair. simon let out a small grunt of agreement, having thought about this since he first laid eyes on you

simon had come to the conclusion that you both just needed a good man in your life. your son needed a father figure that would actually stick around, he could tell by the way your son looks up to him and the captain, eager to impress them

and you. oh, you. with your sweet, simple dresses and adoring smile. simon wishes you’d smile at him like that. all that cooking that your son lets go to waste could go to him instead. you could cook his favourite dinners for him and take care of his house whilst he’s away at work, whipping the boy into shape. teaching him every thing that your sack of shit ex-husband clearly didn’t

he’d be so good to you too. he knows it’s been a while since you’ve had a man to take care of your needs. he sees the way you nearly drool as you watch him running laps around the field, tatted arms on display. he’d spit you open so nicely on his cock and he knows you’d take him so well too, your pretty cunt would he creaming all over him

he soon takes advantage of this knowledge, subtly convincing your son to invite him over to your home on leave. dropping some story about how his flat is getting some work done and that he only lives 20 minutes from you both. your son was quick to offer the lieutenant a place to stay, telling him that he could take your room. that you could sleep on the couch for a couple weeks.

‘we’ll share the bed.’ simon thinks, but he doesn’t dare say it to your sons face. can’t have this little brat meddling with his plan

his arrival is clearly a surprise to you from the way you rush about shortly afterwards to start scrubbing the house top to bottom, rattling off apologies about the state of everything. simon quickly shuts down any offer of him taking your bedroom

“keep your bed, love. I’ll take the sofa.” he grumbles, sipping the tea that you made for him whilst your son rolls his eyes from the other side of the kitchen

he can see the way your eyes look at him with this longing. he knows it won’t take much to get you into bed. poor thing that hasn’t had anyone to look after her for years

he spends the next few days proving to you that he can provide. helping you carry anything heavy, drying the dishes after you’ve watched them, fixing the handy jobs around the house

you’re constantly praising him, focusing your love and attention towards him instead of your ungrateful son and the boy hates it. which is just the cherry on top, simon thinks

“your mother is so lucky to have a son like you. you must help her around the house all the time!” you coo, fidgeting with your skirt

“my mum passed away… jus’ me left out of the whole family.” simon admits, solemnly

“you poor thing, I’m so sorry. you’re welcome here anytime…” you gasp softly, placing your delicate hand on his arm and squeezing the muscle of his bicep gently and simon is ashamed to say it made his cock twitch against his thigh

“thank you, sweetheart… such a lovely girl, aren’t you?” he smiles behind his mask, reaching over and wrapping his arm around your waist. he pulls you against him, putting one hand over your mouth to keep you quiet as he hoists you up onto the kitchen counter

he squeezes his large frame inbetween your spread legs, leaning forward to look into your widened eyes

“been so good to me, love. taking care of me. such a good mum to your son, ya just need a good man to be a wife to, don’t you?” he says, pushing your skirt up your lap and revealing your thighs to him

he feels your thighs squeeze his waist, an aroused reaction from you. your body slumps into his with a natural submission that makes his cock ache. he lowers his hand and hooks his mask over his nose, revealing the scar running over his lip

“s’alright, darling. ‘m here to look after you now. me, you and the boy will be a nice happy family, yeah?” he says with a small smirk. leaning forward to mould his lips against yours before you can answer

he hears the little whimper you let out as you kiss him back, a little sloppy and inexperienced from years of being single, too busy with your son and work to date

but that’s okay because simon’s here now. ready to claim his family.

#mw2 #cod mw2 #ghost #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost simon riley

[thebadboyfanclub]

I Don’t Think I Can Do This (Daemon x Reader)

Hey y’all so I know I was supposed to write another request but my job has cause my imagination to ran dry and this was certainly easier cause i wanted to write something that shows the burden that women carry and also that Daemon is a very grey character, I hope you guys like it

The story of (y/n) Eaglemore and Daemon Targaryen did not start as a love story, one would suppose that seems to be a common trait amongst the concept of arranged marriages, especially to a young maiden of an independent kingdom to the rogue prince Targaryen, their marriage was the establishment of Eaglemore joining their forces with the Targaryens, (y/n) was dressed in her traditional attire with her hair in an intricate style, she was breath of fresh air in the house of the dragons, a proud Eagle that was brave enough to fly with the dragons as the flag with the colors of red and black flew next to the black and red she assumed the similarities were bound as an omen for success.

That was quickly ripped out of her mind at the bedding ceremony that she endured, the prince was not brutal, yet she had hoped that he would forbid it, he was cold and only placed a kiss at the top of her head after it was done before he left her laying while the ones that observed it cleared the room, tears streamed down from embarrassment while the handmaidens helped her get up to assist her with her bath.

-

“Husband!”

She exclaimed excitedly before she skipped over to Daemon who was preoccupied with having a conversation with Viserys was much more important than turning his head to face her, alas the newlywed stood by his side and reached for his hand to get his attention, innocently she squeezed it only to be met with an annoyed expression as he gazed intensely at her.

“What?! (Y/n)! Did they not teach basic manners in your homeland?”

“I-I just, I wanted to give you this, I sewed it for you, it’s the dragon symbol with the eagle”

“Great, give it to the handmaidens, is that all?”

Suddenly she became hyper-aware of the pie of eyes around her, mostly men that had taken interest in the scene that unfolded in the gardens, she felt like a little girl scolded by her father, she bit her lower lip as her shoulders sunk in defeat, the glimpse in her eyes slowly disappearing like a light snuffed out.

“My apologies, I did not wish to interrupt you and the king, I hope you can forgive me, y-your grace”

“It is quite alright, my dear, for what it’s worth I found your creation a wonderful gift, do not pay attention to daemon he has never been good with gifts”

“If that means I have never been good with gifts that have no use then yes, I agree”

“I shall go, excuse me, your grace, husband”

She curtsied before she ran off, her chocolate-colored hair swinging left and right in her ponytail as her eyes looked down to hide the tears that she desperately held back, Daemon watched her and could sense the damage he had caused, sometimes he would catch himself staring at her with purity and interest, he had even smiled once when she struggled to find the right word in his language.

He should have stopped, he should have held his tongue when the evident quiver of her chin started to show when her eyes bounced in different directions as she wanted to gather her composure, but he didn’t, now Daemon stood as still as a grain of salt whilst she once again ran away from him covered in shame.

“She is your lady wife Daemon, must you be so hard on her?”

“A wife that was bestowed to me”

“She is also someone that was bestowed a spouse, yet she took it with grace and is grasping desperately to create the best out of the worst, as a man that prides himself on his intelligence your lady wife has surpassed you, at least in principle and empathy”

Daemon was stunned, as Viserys spoke in such kind words his words slashed through Daemon like the sharpest of knives, this was Daemon's second marriage, and it had become second nature to be rude and unattainable to his lady wife since the bronze bitch shared the same hatred as he did for her, now the cheerful lady with the deer like eyes and red puffy cheeks had been nothing but kind, a foreign pain in his chest started to make Daemon uneasy as she ran further and out of his line of sight.

“If I were you I would be very ashamed”

-

(Y/n) sat in front of the mirror as one of her handmaidens lit her candles and the other brushed (y/n)s hair to prepare her for bed, (y/n) stood as still as she could though her fingers intertwined with one another and twisted in odd ways.

“Could you leave me with Chiara, please? Thank you”

(Y/n) requested softly, the young handmaiden only curtsied before she walked out of (y/n)s chamber, whilst Chiara continued to brush her hair, they had grown into a bond that (y/n) felt comfort in, Chiara was sweet and honest, somewhat older, and had just given birth to her first child, she was the first handmaiden that she met when she got to the red keep.

“Do you love your lord husband?”

“I do, now”

“What do you mean?”

“I married him per my father's request, and he gave the biggest dowry, at first it was difficult, we had to figure out a way to communicate and after a while, I like to think that he grew to love me as much as I love him, though first, we respected one another, then love came gradually”

(Y/n) grew silent, her head hanging low before she bit her lip in defeat, she respected her lord husband? Did her lord husband respect her? After the incident on the morrow, it certainly didn’t feel like it.

(Y/n) had not noticed that Chiara had scrounged in front of her and placed her hands over (y/n)s, she only saw the tears that splashed over the handmaidens' skin.

“You won’t always feel like the outsider”

“I don’t think I can do this”

“You can, it is alright my dear”

One sob came after the other as (y/n)s body shook and Chiara lovingly wrapped her arms around the lady’s frame in such delicacy, it resembled a girl hugging her porcelain doll while she tried to not crack it, in its macabre nature you could identify a certain beauty, someone that had the strength to comfort a disheveled young lady as she navigated through womanhood and all its trials.

What had (y/n) nor Chiara had taken into account was that Prince Daemon had made his way to the half-cracked door, freezing in his sport once the whimpers of agony hit his ears, he peaked through the shadows only to be met with his lady wife letting tears stain her dress and hiccups shaking her hunching back as the handmaiden rubbed circles on her back.

“Prince Daemon is a fool for not acknowledging the precious stone that is you, may the gods bless him and open his eyes before he is taken from us”

Daemon had no reason to intervene, the poor lady was right, he was a fool, here she was, a beautiful and intelligent young royalty crying over his acts, he had always longed for home, for family, and now he kicked and toyed with it.

He should be the one comforting his lady wife, to gaze upon (y/n)s puffy and red face and do his best to calm her nerves, not to be the face of her pain, shamefully he scurried away without a word, mad at his reflection that stared back at him in such high horse, he had become everything he hated, a man that did not care about anyone but himself, stopping at nothing to prove he was right.

-

“Good morrow”

(Y/n) did not respond, she only raised her head and nodded at Daemon that had just entered the dining area, exhausted from crying the lady felt like a family of horses had run over her, getting barely a wink of sleep, evidently so by the veins under her eyes.

(Y/n)s silence was deafening to Daemon, however, he cleared his throat and took a sit next to his lady wife, waiting for a servant to pour him some wine.

“Orange juice? I believe we do not grow these over here”

“A gift from my mother, she said orange juice in the morning is a secret to a woman’s beauty”

“She must be the most astonishing lady back in your line”

“You met her, on our wedding feast, I believe you were too busy to pay attention, like always”

The last comment was barely above a whisper still sharp as a knife right on Daemon's abdomen, Daemon only turned his gaze at her, confused by her demeanor, it wasn’t uncalled for yet it took him by surprise, she always seemed to have the ability to hide her agony at least in public.

“Mayhaps we could go to her, I’m sure she will be more than happy if her daughter visited her”

“Not if my belly is flat, as much as she wanted me to be thin for most of my life she is now sending raven after raven to just check in with my monthly bleeds”

She informed him in a mumbling tone while her hand was rubbing circles on her temples, visibly annoyed over her mother's disregard for her well-being and hyper-focused on her womb.

Daemon was taken back by her comfortability to speak over her monthly visits, brushing it off easily though since they were husband and wife after all, those matters should concern him as well, the idea of a sweet little child running to (y/n)s arms brought him joy.

“It must be uneasy, being put in this position”

“Indeed and if I am being honest, my lord husband has not been making it any easier, with my empty womb nor his attitude”

“I understand you are cross with me”

“Can you blame me? You humiliated me”

Her tone switched from my king to a hiss, her eyes spewing fire as she stared back at him, it was the first time that she dared to show her true emotions, albeit Daemon could detect that it wasn’t just an act of anger but a sense of fear was laying behind those hues of hers.

He was correct, (y/n) feared for her future, the whispers of Daemon's visits to the street of silk, the adoration for his niece, his continuing ignorance over their wedlock, it all came crashing on her chest making it unable to breathe sometimes.

“I came to break my fast with you as a sign of goodwill, I want us to work on our relation-“

“Us? There is no us, you made sure of that my prince, you have crashed all my efforts and now you dare to speak of us”

“I cannot correct my past mistakes, I can only hope that you will allow me to work on our future, you did not deserve my coldness and for that, I sincerely apologize, I only wish for your good graces and for you to allow me to show you how I truly feel for you and our wedlock”

Silence, her eyes focused on his to scatter for one ounce of a lie, alas she was left with nothing, a sigh left her lips as she sunk to her chair defeated, why did the gods curse her with such a difficult match?

“I do not know if I can love you, I tried to desperately earn your affection for so long, I have grown tired of this”

“I know you have and I do not blame you, I beg you, my sweet (y/n), let me try”

His hand had found hers to hold, the warm flesh against hers grew goosebumps, a small beam of light found its way into her soul and a ghost of a smile appeared as (y/n) glimpsed upon their hands locked together, she gave him a subtle squeeze to see if this was a dream or reality.

“I suppose trying couldn’t hurt”

“Thank you, now you must eat, your mother might be right you have lost some weight”

“My efforts of getting accustomed to your foods have not been working”

“You do not have to, we can bring a cook from your homeland, my lady wife shall eat whatever her heart contents”

“There are some delicacies that I believe you would enjoy”

“I am not very picky with food so I will try anything you put in front of me”

Chatter was something (y/n) could easily do, however, even though Daemons spirits were high, (y/n) would steal glances of caution at him, was this another scheme? Or was he genuinely craving her presence and good graces?

“I was hoping you could come to meet Caraxes later”

“I do not know if that is the best idea”

“Nonsense, Caraxes is a part of me, therefore a part of you by law, soon our children will have their eggs on their cradle, if you are surrounded by dragons you need to get used to their presence”

Requests are open!

#daemon au #daemon targaryen x oc #daemon targaryen x y/n #daemon x reader #daemon fanfic #daemon x you #daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon prince #daemon targaryen x you #daemon targaryen imagine #daemon targaryen fanfiction #daemon targeryan #daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen headcanon #daemon targeryen x reader #daemon targaryen smut #daemon targaryen fic #daemon x y/n #hotd daemon #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon #hotd fanfic #hotd imagine #hotd #hotd fic #hotd x reader #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon x reader #hotd season 1

[mediumgayitalian]

prev

———

Hades’ favourite thing to rant about is how much his family forgets about and sidelines him. Nico has literally never once given the lecture his full attention, because why the fresh fuck would he subject himself to that, but he discovers, lying facedown on the floor of Cabin Three, that he must have internalised enough of it to remember some key points.

He is loathe to admit it, but Father is right. How come the Poseidon cabin floors are so nice and comfortable? The floor of Cabin Thirteen sucks. Whenever he has Floor Time in his own cabin, he gets bruised and cold. Injustice.

“Could you suffer quieter? I’m trying to study.”

“Shut up, Percy.”

“I’m not the one groaning in misery.”

“Shut up, Percy.”

Percy sighs heavily. There’s a loud thud as he snaps his textbook shut, and the creak of mattress springs as he shifts.

“You’re so fuckin’ irritating, you know that?”

“Coming from you,” Nico says indignantly, pushing up to glare at him. Percy makes a face back. “I am here, having a crisis, being vulnerable in front of you —”

“Oh my gods.”

“— like you suggested, to rebuild our tenuous relationship —”

“I wish the prophecy had killed me. Either one, I’m not picky.”

“— and you are studying! Nose in a book! You hate reading! You are doing this just to spite me!”

“I am doing this to pass my classes,” Percy snips. “Someone should send you to public school. You need to experience that particular level of hell.”

“Experienced hell already, thanks. Don’t need a redo.”

“Tartarus references don’t shut me up, Zombie Boy. I’ve been there too.”

“Ugh.”

Percy rolls his eyes, turning back to his textbook. Nico contemplates rolling back on the floor to Ruminate and Think (after the second failure in a row he has a much to think about, like what the fuck is he supposed to do, should he even fucking bother, is he doomed to life without love, etc, etc) but finds himself, instead, sitting upright. Watching his — friend. Watching his heavy frown, listening to the bit-back curses and the crinkle of pages when he holds the book too tightly.

He’s moody, today. Sullen. Ate his breakfast in silence and stomped off to the sword fighting arena, raising hurricane downpour around the open theatre to deter anyone from joining him. Coincidentally, Annabeth has not been seen all day.

“Are you okay?” Nico asks quietly.

Percy shrugs, glancing over then glancing quickly away. “Fine.”

“I mean. You flooded half the camp. So.”

“Just drop it, Nico. If you’re going to stay in here, be quiet.”

Nico bites back the automatic, scathing retort. Be quiet, Nicolò! Lalalalala! Don’t tell me what to do! Ugh! I hate having a little brother! Yeah, well, I hate you too!

A quick, cut-off choking sound cuts through his thoughts. He looks up, startled, to find Percy’s face red, to find him swiping angrily at his cheeks.

“Woah,” he murmurs, climbing hastily upright. He ignores the loud chanting in his brain telling him to leave, the discomfort swirling in his stomach at seeing someone cry, seeing another man cry, instead hovering awkwardly. Percy shrugs off the hand he touches hesitantly to his shoulder, and Nico holds it there, suspended, in between and outstretched.

“I’m fine. Leave me alone.”

Nico hesitates. Of all people, he…nobody wants Nico around, when they’re —whatever Percy is. Upset. The only thing he can probably do is make it worse.

But what can he do? Leave him? Get Annabeth? Jason? None of it seems right. Instead he stands, frozen, hand still half-outstretched, eyes wide.

“You can —” He clears his throat. “Um. Did something happen?”

Percy shrugs. His eyes remain glued resolutely to his textbook, although the pages are wet and warped.

“Cause you can tell me, you know. I won’t — tell anyone. Or anything.”

Gods, he is so far out of his depth. Could Kampe come back and attack? That would be easier to deal with. Nico could handle that.

“I don’t —” the pages of the textbook crinkle under Percy’s grip — “it’s fucking stupid, is what it is.”

Hovering is not the right call. He knows that much. He scans the cabin, evaluating his options — sitting back on the floor feels like a bad plan. He doesn’t think any kind of touch would be welcomed, nor is he entirely comfortable in giving it. He doesn’t want to crowd. He doesn’t want to seem too distant.

Slowly, carefully gauging Percy’s reaction, he sits on the bed, across from him. He leaves the textbook between them, letting Percy keep pretending to read it, and tucks his legs up under his knees. He fiddles absentmindedly with his ring, chewing his lip every time Percy sniffles.

“Why’s it stupid?”

Percy shrugs again. Nico resists the urge to shake him. How does anyone deal with this shit? What the hell is he even supposed to do? He’s not Jason. He’s not Annabeth. Hell, he’s not Will, who seems to read emotions intuitively, who seems to know exactly what to do when someone is scared, when someone is upset. Even when someone is angry. He tries to imagine Will, in his position. Sitting across from a crying Percy Jackson, saviour of the world. Yesterday, one of the younger kids had tripped and scraped half the skin off their arm on the basketball court. Will had been there with a soft smile and gentle, glowing hands, speaking quietly and cracking small jokes until the kid was laughing again. Nico tries to imagine that here, soft words and lighthearted jokes. It doesn’t seem right. Would he — touch Percy’s wrist, like he did with Clarisse? Drag the fight right out of him?

Is Percy even angry? Nico has seen him angry before. Murderous. Fuming.

He’s never seen him cry.

Percy’s voice is like palms scraping hard over sharp gravel stones. “I made Annabeth cry this morning.”

The way he says it makes it hard for Nico to actually understand his words. His tone of voice is — volatile, is the best way he can describe it. Loathing. Based on the curling self-hatred dripping from the sentence Nico would assume he’d tried to kill her — he says I made her cry like he doesn’t deserve to live for it. Like he’s hoping to be punished.

“That happens,” Nico says. He swallows. “When you — love people.”

He and Bianca made each other cry a lot. He just never — stopped, never gave her half a second. Sometimes she looked at him and he knew she wanted to hit him. She never did. But he knew and she knew he knew and sometimes it would well up in her eyes, and she would lock herself in the bathroom of their room and turn on the sink and cry and cry and cry. And it ached something nasty in the cavity of his chest.

Percy sneers at his hands, flexing his fingers. “People who love you don’t make you cry. That’s just — hurting. That’s people who hurt everyone around them.”

Nico frowns. “That’s not true.”

“It is,” he says venomously. “I’m supposed to be — I’m supposed to protect her. I’m supposed to keep her safe, keep her from people who cause her pain.”

“People like you?”

Percy nods.

Nico drags his teeth over his bottom lip. He thinks of bleeding fingers clinging to a tiny shaft of rock, thinks of dangerous green eyes, hard voices; thinks of a thick web clinging to a broken ankle and an abyss. Thinks of promises and oaths and choosing. Thinks of falling. Thinks of letting go.

“People who want to harm Annabeth do not jump into the Pit for her.”

The pages of Percy’s textbook have started to dry. The ink has bled, dark splotches in perfect circles. The fountain bubbles gently behind them, mattress creaking under shifting legs.

“You don’t understand what I —” He pauses, swallowing. “Did, down there.”

“D’you hurt her?”

“…I scared her.”

“Oh, well — Christ, Percy! Is that really what this — brooding is about?” He scoffs. “No shit you scared her!”

“…What?”

Percy looks at him, wide-eyed. Nico rolls his eyes.

“Aw, when you were fighting for your life in the place meant to tear your essence into atoms, did you do things that make you question your personhood? Your morals?”

“I —”

“Of course you did, dumbass! Of course you —” he takes a breath, trying to organize the jumble of thoughts in his brain — “of course the physical manifestation of darkness and distortion made you act differently than you would usually, Percy. Of course it — affected you. Gods. Of course you’re struggling.” He flicks Percy’s knee, looking at him with exaggerated exasperation. “Use your brain, why don’t you.”

A small smile quirks the corners of Percy’s mouth, although it fades as quickly as it comes. He wipes his face with his sleeve, breath shuddering.

“She didn’t scare me, though.”

“Not even once?”

“Not in the same way,” Percy admits. “I was scared, once, when I looked at her. In the death mist. But that wasn’t — her, you know? She could never scare me.”

“I mean,” Nico wrinkles his nose, trying to articulate, “I think that’s kind of abnormal?”

Percy tilts his head.

“I just mean that you have a very high threshold, Percy. For…what you’ll tolerate from people you care about.”

“Everyone has that.”

“Not in the same way you do.” He taps his knuckles, considering. “Tell me the truth — if Annabeth stabbed someone to death in front of you, in total cold blood, would you help her hide the body?”

“Yes,” he says immediately. He shrinks, a little. “Oh.”

Nico rushes to assure, placing a fleeting touch on his wrist. “It’s not necessarily a bad thing. I don’t think. It’s just —” He shrugs. “I’m used to scaring people, too. I don’t mean to. I don’t understand it. I don’t understand what I — do, it’s not intentional.”

Percy opens his mouth, but Nico stumbles on.

“But you’re not — a monster, Percy, gods. No one thinks you’re a monster. Especially not Annabeth.”

Percy wiggles his finger under his watch strap, turning it tightly around his wrist, cutting off the circulation. Nico watches but doesn’t say anything.

“You’re not, either.”

Nico blinks. “Huh?”

“A monster,” he explains. “You’re not, either.”

“Oh.” Nico shrugs. “Thanks, I guess.”

“No, I mean it, dude, I — look. Listen.” Percy sighs. “You got baggage. I put some of it on you. I’m sorry.”

Hands around his — throat — angry, angry eyes — harder — bruising — you promised! you promised! you promised!

“It’s fine.” A pause. “I did shit to you, too.”

“It’s not fine. And I know you did. We can still —”

He doesn’t finish his sentence. He sighs again, a long, defeated sound, and curls in on himself.

“One day you’ll forgive yourself,” Nico murmurs. “One day I’ll — me too, I guess. Me and you.”

Percy smiles tiredly. “And we’ll be okay?”

“No. You’ll still be annoying.”

He snorts. “Whatever. Drama queen.”

“Oh, I’m the drama queen, Mr. I Don’t Deserve To Be Loved.”

Percy snorts. He turns back to his textbook, fiddling with the dried page, and snorts again, trying to duck his head. Nico bites the corner of his mouth, hard. Percy glances up again, and Nico meets his eyes, and they —

Gods, they’re bad at this.

But suddenly Percy can’t choke back his laughter, and it’s wheezing and self-deprecating and still kind of teary and Nico is laughing, too, because thank the gods that shit is over. Percy’s red-cheeked and Nico is red-cheeked and neither of them are going to look at each other for a week, Nico’s sure, but for now he can roll his eyes at Percy’s melodrama and dodge his embarrassed shoving, and it’s fine.

“You should talk to Annabeth,” Nico suggests, when the giggling has toned down.

Percy picks at the torn-up skin around his nails. “Probably.”

“Are you going to?”

“Why were you lying on the floor?” Percy asks instead. It is the least subtle subject change of all time, but Nico takes it as the hint it is and drops the subject. It’s not his business, anyway. They’ll talk. He knows Annabeth better than to think she’ll let it fester, at least.

“Oh, you know. Crushing weight of being alive, mortifying ordeal of being known, et cetera, et cetera.”

“Oh my gods. I’m sorry I asked.”

“Well, serves you right then, you selfish bitch.”

Percy snorts. “What, I cry all over you and now it’s your turn to vent?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s exactly how it works. Transactional and eye-for-an-eye. Exactly as friendship should be.”

“You’re not nearly as funny as you think you are,” Percy says, but he can’t tamp down his smile any more than he can stop his eyes from rolling, so there. Nico is exactly as funny as he thinks he is, thank you very much. A regular comedian.

Percy snaps textbook closed and sets it on the bedside table. “So.”

“So.”

Nico squirms. Suddenly he’s not sure why the hell he came in here in the first place. Are the floors in Cabin Thirteen really that bad? Surely not. Surely Floor Time didn’t have to be in Percy’s cabin.

(He blames Father for this. He’s horribly nosy. No doubt he’s passed his nosiness onto Nico, irregardless of his lack of DNA, and made Nico the way that he is. He can’t think of a single other reason he ducked into the cabin after lunch, when Percy still hadn’t shown his face.)

“Dude, come on. You came in here and whined and huffed and made a nuisance of yourself for literally forty minutes, and now that I’m giving you the attention you begged for you don’t want it? Nuh-uh. Spill.”

“There’s nothing to spill about,” Nico protests, “gods, can’t a man just complain in peace —”

“Ha! Not sure you can call yourself a ‘man’ if you’re voice is still cracking, squirt.”

“I literally hate you. Not joking.”

“Uh-huh. Okay.” Percy raises an eyebrow. “Well, since my guts are already spilled out and flopping all over the floor —”

“Disgusting.”

“—so it’s your turn, now.” He pokes Nico’s bicep. Nico bats him away, rolling off the bed and hitting the floor, scooting over to put more space between them. Thankfully, Percy doesn’t follow, and he exhales, settling his back against the bed frame. The mattress springs creak again as he readjusts. “You can tell me, you know.” Nico can hear the smile in his voice at the cheeky repitition. “I won’t — tell anyone. Or anything. Ahem.”

“You’re so annoying.” Nico picks at a loose thread in the knees of his pants, looping it around his finger.

Will thinks ripped jeans are stupid. He hadn’t said so outright, when Nico came back from his Aphrodite-Cabin-enforced shopping trip, but Nico had noticed his pursed lips and deliberately schooled face. When he’d pressed about it, pestering him until he’d given up with the very southern passive aggressive if you like, Nico, I love, don’t you worry about it answer, he’d gotten a forty minute rant about jeans that “sold less jean for more fuckin’ money” that made him laugh until he cried.

He yanks the thread and pulls. The hole widens.

“Oh my gods, you’re actually whipped. Is that what this is?”

Nico flushes. “Shut up.”

“It is!” Percy grins widely, wicked delight in his eyes. “You are literally thinking about him right now! You might as well be kicking your feet! You —”

“Shut up, Percy, gods.”

“I’ve never seen you so red,” he says instead, because he is incapable of following instructions. His smile fades, face softening into something more pensive. “You must really like him.”

Nico shrugs. Is that what he feels for Will? Gorgeous. I’ve been crushing on you forever. He likes a lot of people. You always know just what I need. A lot of people aren’t Will.

“He’s not scared of me.” No matter how much he fiddles with it, the metal of his ring is always cold. Cold hands, he supposes. He never heats up much. “Or. intimated. Creeped out. He thinks I’m —”

He clamps his mouth shut. A bubble of something expands in his chest, growing out of his lungs, past his shoulders, pushing his throat closed. He swallows, hard, trying to shove it back, but — Nico! Hey! You think I couldn’t stand to see a friendly face? No way, Death Boy, no more Underworld-y magic for you! I can literally feel you fading! My hands are still shaking — here, feel.

“Gorgeous?” The smile on Percy’s face is teasing, but much softer than before. “I heard he — said.”

Maybe it’s the redness of Percy’s nose that hasn’t quite faded, or his still-puffy eyes, but finally the bubble pops, and Nico sighs, tipping his head back until it rests on the edge of the bed. He closes his eyes. After a beat of hesitation, callused fingers brush through his hair, ruffling it, lingering awkwardly before pulling away. He smiles.

“Yes.”

“…Really? He just up and told you, that he had a —”

Percy stumbles on the words. Nico peeks one eye open and grinning wryly. “Yeah. He’s a hell of a lot braver than I am. Or maybe he’s just shameless.”

“He was always really intense about being your friend.” Percy screws up his face, tilting his head as if envisioning it. “I didn’t understand what that meant, at first. I didn’t get…the reason? Behind it? If that makes sense.”

“You forgot about gay people,” Nico says drily. “I know.”

“This is true,” Percy admits. He grins, sheepish. “That’s an L on my part. Every time me and Annabeth went looking for you he’d somehow know about it and ask us a bajillion questions when we got back. I just thought he was really into necromancy, or something, but now it’s like…damn.”

Nico covers his eyes with his hand, fighting back an embarrassed smile. He thinks your eyes are a tie between moonstone and agate, in case you were wondering. There is literally not a single soul in this camp unaware about how much he likes you.

“You’d think it would be easier to get him to go out with me, then.”

“It hasn’t been?”

Nico throws his hands up. “No! He doesn’t — I got him flowers, Percy, and he ground them up to make a poultice. He thought the rock I got him was a bribe. I open every door for him and I always pull out a chair for him at counsellor meetings. I make sure to stand up first when we’re sitting together and offer him a hand. I don’t know what else I can — do, gods.” He makes a noise of frustration, glaring at the ceiling. “I’m being as obvious as I can be. What am I gonna have to do to get him to realise? Fuckin’ — tattoo his name on my forehead?”

Percy slides his hand into his pocket, pulling out his pen. He twists it around his fingers, fiddling with the cap, picking at the plastic casing. He uses the end of it to trace mindless swirls on his thigh, which Nico can’t help but feel is dangerous. One wrong move and he better hope Nico can drag him to the fountain fast enough to stabilize him. But his eyes are far away, teeth gnawing on the inside of his cheek.

“There is a chance,” he says slowly, “that he…knows.”

Nico frowns, turning to face him properly. He looks resolutely at his lap. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I — well.” He does finally uncap his blade, staring at the soft glow of the bronze, rubbing his thumbnail over the leather handle. “I. Knew,” he says haltingly. “That Annabeth liked me. I —”

Nico watches him carefully. This is…news, to him. He didn’t keep up much on camp drama about the two of them — for obvious reasons — but he hardly had to. Even during his brief, one or two day stops at Camp, Percy and Annabeth gossip was impossible to avoid. People talked about them constantly, about how much they obviously cared for each other, how oblivious, especially, Percy was. It used to give him a twisted sort of hope.

“You…knew? And you didn’t do anything?”

Percy winces. “She got frustrated with hiding it. She kissed me, once, before I blew up St. Helens. And I just —” He shrugs. “I couldn’t believe that someone like her would want anything to do with someone like me.”

It’s impossible to miss his meaning, to miss the self-directed bitterness at the end of his words. Nico recognises it because he practically invented it. Someone like me. Someone disgusting, ugly, unworthy. Someone bitter and twisted and wrong. Someone so undeserving.

“I think Will is like me,” Percy continues softly. “That — insecurity.” He says the word quickly, like he might be able to hide it in the rest of the sentence. “I think he thinks very highly of you. And I think it’s hard for him to believe that you want to — to lower yourself, to be with him.”

“That’s inane,” Nico argues. “He’s — bright and kind and smart and — he’s fucking everything, what is he —!”

“He grew up a healer in a camp full of warriors. Full of talented people,” Percy murmurs. “When you’re surrounded by people who know what they’re doing, it’s easy to feel like a loser.”

Nico opens his mouth, closing it again. On principle he doesn’t agree with Percy. It doesn’t make sense. Every single person at this camp has relied on Will in more than one way for as long as he’s been here — as long as he’s been healing them. How could he not know what his purpose is? How could he not realise his talents?

Ace bandage, sound and unwound. Hard blue eyes, self-directed sneer. I’m just a healer.

“He’s not a loser,” Nico says eventually. “I don’t think he’s a — loser.”

Nico thinks he’s quite a bit more than that, actually. In fact if all words in the any language he knows, ‘loser’ is probably the least apt to describe him.

“How do I make him realise? Make him —”

Percy shrugs. “Took Annabeth several years and I still think I’m — well. I still struggle. You’ll have to be patient.” He glances over, and that mischevious smile is back on his face, the one that promises trouble and guarantees Nico an excuse to kick him. “Or, you know, you could just tell him that you think he’s bright, and kind, and smart, and beautiful, and —”

Nico does indeed kick him. He falls back against his pillow, laughing, curled against his side.

“I did not — I did not say beautiful,” Nico says hotly, “that was not on the list, you total jackass —”

Percy only laughs harder, no matter how many times Nico kicks him.

———

next

#oh the percy nico dynamic….i literally want to put them in a cage and study them #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #hoo #heroes of olympus #pjo hoo toa #nico di angelo #percy jackson #percy & nico #percy jackson & nico di angelo #complicated relationships #angst #hurt/comfort #percy jackson angst #solangelo #nico/will #will/nico #nico di angelo/will solace #pining nico di angelo #modern courting #my writing #fic #longpost #WILL AND PERCY PARALLELS BABEY

[moonchildxoxx]

So there's this thing for couples where a husband will gently lift their pregnant wife's stomach to make them comfortable and take the weight off them. If you're ok with it a Neteyam x reader where they're adults he finds this trick out and tries it and she loves it, she'll just come up to him all time and nudge him to hold her like that. His family thinks it funny how she paws at him almost like a cat to held. If you don't want to write this that's ok❤️

A/N: okay so I it’s not a full fic but I hope you enjoy the Drabble

Tittle:

Those Moments

A/N:

- Neteyam is 20 and the reader is 19

-this happens after twow and they’re back in high camp and Neteyam lives because I say so

Pairing: Neteyam x Fem! pregnant! Reader

Word count: 400

[ Request are open ]

Master List

Rules

Neteyam watched from the entrance of your corner of the tent as you stretched in different ways trying to relieve some of your pain. He walked up beside you waiting for you to finish. You gave up with a defeated sigh. He reached out putting one hand on your back and the other one on the swelling of your stomach. “ what’s wrong syulang “ he asks you softly . You let out a soft whine “ everything hurts teyam, but my back is the worst with the pulling pressure “ he hummed listening to you gently rubbing your bump when he suddenly remembered something he had read a while ago when you had first told him he’d be a father in a few cycles time.

He looked into your eyes “ I think I have the thing t help with ma syulang , but you must trust me “ you huffed softly “ I’ll always trust you yawntu “.

He moved to stand behind you, he grabbed you pulling you to his chest. He moved his hand underneath your bump and slowly lifted it . You immediately felt relieved you moaned gently as you no longer felt like your back was about to snap with the weight of your child. Neteyam helped you as long as he could before slowly letting go. You sighed gently turning around again laying your head on his shoulder “ thank you Yawntu “ you mumbled into his neck. He smiled at this rubbing your bump” you don’t have to thank you syulang, I will do anything to help you.”

You both stayed holding each other for a few more moments before joining the rest of the family for evening meal.

Over the next few days this was your routine when he came home from his duties of that day he’d come over and help you with the weight. Today he arrived later with the rest of the sully men . Neteyam walked over to where you were sitting on the ground , helping you stand before bringing you into his arms. You quietly greeted each other afterwards you gently pushed his hands downward to the bottom of your bump . Neteyam tried to hide his smile before moving behind you and gently lifting your bump.

Jake lowly chuckled as he watched you paw at Neteyam, he nudged Neytiri gesturing towards you both. She looked up gently smiling at the once familiar sight that was once them over the years.

© Moonchildxoxx 2023 | all rights reserved. do not republish, repost, steal, modify, translate or claim my work as your own.

#jake sully x reader #tsu'tey x reader #avatar 2009 #avatar 2009 x reader #avatar movie #neteyam x reader #ao’nung #tsu'tey x y/n #jake sully #neteyam #neteyam x na'vi!reader #neteyam x pregnant reader

[pillowspace]

Thinking about how Charlotte Emily most likely regularly hung out with the Aftons.

William comes downstairs at 9 in the morning to see Charlie and Elizabeth with empty teacups and a teapot, and is just like, ah. Of course. Little girls love tea parties, but indulges them anyway like "what are you two up to?" Elizabeth immediately lights up. "Charlie said that we should play British People 'cause we're British!" William, now a bit more confused, "...ah. I see." Elizabeth, "oh won't you join us? Pretty please?" Charlie then pipes in that she had also asked Mike, but that he had very unfortunately said no, because "Liz plays too mean." Elizabeth, "I do not, you're just too scared to lose!" Michael, "I can't fucking lose at 'British People.'"

Charlie and Elizabeth do atrocious things to their dolls. Drama. Tragedy. They always clash on the endings though, as Charlie wants their dolls fo have a happy end while Elizabeth wants their dolls to have an even worse end

Michael doesn't know Charlie's staying over, and brings home his schoolmates one day. William Frowns TM like "I tried to tell you Henry was dropping off Charlotte today, but you were already halfway out the door." Michael later re-enters the room to find his schoolmates picking on Charlie and pulling at her hair. The closest Michael ever feels to peace is when he's with the Emilys, so he immediately spirals at the sight like, "oh god, if Uncle Henry finds out I brought people over who hurt his daughter, he might not bring her over anymore. What do I do then? What do I do if he stops liking me?" He quickly shoos off his friends, going "dude! She's a guest, leave her be" while Charlie recovers. Before he too can follow after them, Charlie asks Michael if he'll draw with her. He hesitates. The Emilys are the closest he ever gets to peace, so he agrees and sits down to draw. "What are you drawing, Char?" "Marionette!" "'S that the creepy thing that's always watching the guests come and go at Freddy's?" "He's not creepy, he's my friend. Dad made him for me :(" "ahh. You know, my father's been building something for Liz too." "You think that it'll protect her like Marionette protects me?" "Maybe."

Charlie notices how anxious CC always seems to be, and declares one day that she'll keep him safe. She makes him a drawing of them both holding hands, and gives it to him so that he may always look upon it and know that Charlie's rooting for him. He nearly bursts into tears at the kind gesture. The whole household tries to be nicer to each other whenever Charlie's around, but CC tells her about Michael's behaviour to him. Knowing how weak Michael is to her, Charlie gives Michael a look while he's grabbing cereal the next morning like "you should be nicer to your brother. He's just a little kid." Michael immediately pauses, then awkwardly closes the cupboard like "ummm. Okay." Not wanting to use Charlie as a means to make fun of CC, he just never brings the interaction up afterwards

The Emily and Afton families joining together are constantly filled with different forms of jealousy from the Aftons. William, he's jealous of Henry. Michael, he's jealous of Charlie's positive relationship with her father. CC, he's jealous of how Michael seems to like Charlie so much more than him. Elizabeth doesn't even notice her own jealousy, but deep down, Charlie's completely peaceful household... confuses her. She rationalizes the lack of favouritism or hostility as it only stemming from Charlie being an only child, rather than Henry's good parenting. Being so young as well as being the perfect golden child, Elizabeth doesn't know how to express doubt in her father. Clearly, it must be her siblings doing something wrong if Charlie and Uncle Henry are doing so well on their own!

After CC's death, the house is filled with an unbreakable tension. It's grief. It's guilt. Michael and his schoolmates completely cut ties after what happened. And as always, the Emilys feel so separate from the tension of his own home. Michael starts talking to Charlie more frequently, more often at Henry's house rather than his own. He tries not to, or at least usually tries to hide first, but he accidentally has a complete breakdown in the living room one time. Charlie hums a soothing lullaby to him until Henry eventually comes back, notices the state Michael's in, and takes over calming him down while sending Charlie off to do some other seemingly helpful task. After Elizabeth's death, Michael only really has the Emilys left. Charlie stops just being his source of peace, and becomes his best friend. His only friend. Then after Charlie's death...

It's rather lonely all of a sudden.

Later, years later, when Michael's flesh is rotting on his bones and everything is just about to finally be done with, he sits down on the edge of a cheap creaky stage he bought, and lightly knocks his knuckles against Lefty's calf. "Charlie? Can you hear me alright? It's Michael ... I'm sorry. I know I never acted like it, but... for what it's worth... you were my best friend back then. ...Whatever's beyond this, would you like to be friends again there too?"

#i wrote this post at 5-6 in the morning lmao i'm going to bed #ramble #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #cw neglect #cw child neglect #<- to be safe #long post #charlie emily #charlotte emily #michael afton #elizabeth afton #william afton #henry emily #crying child #evan afton #cc afton #how do you tag that character.. #ffps #freddy fazbear's pizzeria simulator

[formulapai]

hi! would you consider writing a lando norris x reader about after his crash this weekend? ofc, don't feel obligated if you don't want to❤️🥰

of course love, thank you !!! so glad he’s ok :( 🧡

VIVA LAS VEGAS…NOT!

a lando norris fluff scenario🧡

scenario: see request :)

warning: crash, hospital

pai’s words: I watch the races in French or German so some terms MIGHT be wrong, I have a pretty good knowledge of f1 even in English thanks to my father BUT yeah, some things might be a little off :/ don’t hesitate to correct me 🧡

also, a little SHORT but I’m still sick 😀😀

“YELLOW FLAG ! SAFETY CAR !”

Time stops for a moment as you try to find your breath, try to find something to hold on to. The crash happened fast, unpredictable and merciless, as Lando lost control of his monospace and nearly took Oscar’s with him.

“Lando, are you ok?”

The next seconds are long and antagonizing as his engineer tries to get a response out of him. Everyone waits with batted breaths, desperately wanting to hear his voice.

“Lando, are you ok ?”

Jose tries again, agitated at the thought of his driver being unconscious or unable to answer due to the severity of the crash.

“Yeah, I’m good”

His pained groans are not ignored as everyone knows he’s most likely not ok and just trying to reassure his team, and you. The medical car is now on the scene, Lando being escorted out of his car and in with the medics. He’s going to be driven to the medical center for checkups, an important must.

“Want to go with him ? I’ll take you there, sweetie”

Some woman, that you absolutely know but can’t remember with your mind racing, smiles at you. Everyone knows about the two of you, having made your relationship public back in 2019, so it’s no surprise she’s asking you this. You don’t know the way to the medical center, not yet familiar with this circuit, so you thankfully agree.

“He’s going to be fine, he’s tougher than that. When we say he’s hardheaded, we also mean this”

She easily laughs, doing her best to decrease the tension on your shoulders, and it works. Yes, he’s most likely fine, probably bruised, maybe even with a concussion, but fine. You believe it, you have to.

“I’ll leave you here, alright ? He’s getting checked out but you can still knock”

You nod and thank her softly, deeply grateful for Lando’s team and their ever-lasting kindness. You do as told, knock sharply on the door and wait for a sign to go in. Someone opens the door, a medical staff probably, and they usher you inside, your lover lying on the bed in the middle of the room, still surrounded by a doctor. He looks fine, at least he doesn’t have a missing leg or something.

“Hi, Y/N right ? You can sit next to the bed, we’re just finishing some checkups”

Lando is already staring at you with a boyish grin as you take a seat, his hand finding yours in a matter of seconds. He still hasn’t said a word but it’s alright with you, he doesn’t need to say anything as long as you know he’s okay.

“Mr. Norris, I think it’s best if you are taken to the hospital, only to do a scanner for now. It seems as if you may have a minor concussion, we have to check just in case.”

At that, Lando sighs. He doesn’t like hospital, no one really does, and he’s not over the moon at the prospect of having to spend time there. You squeeze his hand, giving him all the strength you can mutter so he knows he’s not alone, you’re there, with him through it all.

“I mean, I don’t really have a say in this, right?”

The Brit tries to joke wryly, closing his eyes. Someone new appears in the room, bringing some paperwork with him, making sure everything is ready before accompanying your boyfriend to an ambulance. You can’t come with him, so you’re extremely relieved when Jon joins you in front of the center and tells you he’s driving you there. Being his trainer, Jon is naturally close to Lando and by proxy, to you. The both of you go through security, towards the car, and drive to the nearest hospital where Lando arrived minutes earlier. He’s already in the scanner room when you arrive, so you sit and wait for him, consuming probably too much coffee under the friendly gaze of the man next to you. Had it been another day, he’d have nagged you for your coffee consumption and how it affected your health, but he knows you need this right now, so he lets you be.

Minutes felt like hours and you thought you were slowly going crazy. He’s not out yet ? Did they find something strange ? Did something happen to him ? A stroke ? Questions just keep haunting your mind as the two of you are left in the waiting room with no news. Surely, they’d have told you if something happened, right ? You know the answer to this, and you keep on repeating that yes, indeed, they’d tell you. Still, worries are clouding your mind, only clearing when the man itself walks, more like prances, towards you. He’s still sporting the wristband, almost showing it off when he stands right in front of you, laughing with Jon about something you’re not bothered to understand. The way you wrap your arms around his torso is instantaneous, instinctive, as you lean forwards and let yourself fall against your boyfriend. This startles a giggle out of him and a brief chuckle from Jon as the two feel all the stress leaving you in an instant, wrapped in Lando’s scent, softly mixed with the infamous hospital scent. His right hand comes to your head, petting your hair as Jon asks him if he wants to go to the hotel or back to the circuit. Of course, he wants to go back to work, you’re not even surprised but still scoff slightly.

“Alright, off we go, lovebirds. I’ve already told Andrea, Oscar finished the race, P10!”

The ride back to the circuit is spent talking about the race, Jon filling the two of you in with the infos he’s got while you were waiting. A tough race, interesting and unexpected, but the drivers fought hard. You know Lando is bummed, rightfully so, but he still manages to congratulate his teammate earnestly once you arrive in McLaren. You wait for the meetings and media things to be done, sitting in a corner with your headphones and some snacks as you watch replays and edits of the race.

Soon enough, you’ll be back at your hotel room, comfortable and safe under the covers, but for now you enjoy the cheery atmosphere of the night and take a sip of your coffee, knowing Jon will undoubtedly annoy you about it tomorrow and already smiling at the thought.

#f1 x reader #f1 fluff #f1 imagine #lando norris #lando norris angst #lando norris fluff #lando norris x reader

[flowerandblood]

The Man with the Cold Lips

[ Amor • Aemond x Psyche • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, oral sex, fingering, smut, angst, domination, violence, trauma, mourning ]

[ description: After she is attacked in a fair by a strange man and narrowly avoids death, her father the king decides that from now on she will be watched over by one of his ‘ghosts’, a assassin acting on his orders, wearing a black mask. The man follows her like a shadow, accompanied by their past, which keeps her awake at night. Gothic horror love story, angst, sexual tension, very dark Aemond. ]

This story is several requests combined into one: sworn protector x female; Amor x Psyche; Phantom of the Opera! Aemond x female. I took the liberty of creating a completely new story from this, having only elements of each of these requests.

Series & Characters Moodboard Lady Walford Moodboard Gothic & Horror Sensual Moodboard

Part 1 - The Man with the Black Mask | Part 2 - The Man with the Empty Heart | Part 3 - The Man with the Lost Soul | Part 5 - The Man with the Deep Scar | Part 6 - The Man with the One Eye | Part 7 - The Man with the Golden Gift | Part 8 - The Man in the Black Crown | Part 9 - The Man with the Bloody Sword | Part 10 - The Man in the Black Gloves | Part 11 - The Man in the Death Cloak | Part 12 - The Man with the Pearly Hair | Part 13 - The Man with the Fiery Gaze

Yesterday's trailer and the panel with ewan did something to me, so I think that dark aemond is the most appropriate thing I can give you today and that's it. It begins!

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

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

Although she knew it was dangerous, after what had happened she forbade telling the King about what she had discovered. Some part of her hoped that Prince Aemond was alive − she was willing to help him regain the throne if only he would agree to spare her brother's life.

She spent the rest of the day alone in her chamber, covered in thick furs, thinking hard about what had happened.

About Vhagar.

He told her she knew his name, so he must have been someone she had seen on a daily basis before. Her discovery frightened him enough that he was willing to kill her − however, did he really want to do it out of fear of her father's wrath and the fact that he would lose his position, or was it something else?

She bit her lower lip at the thought that a part of her suspected she might be working with the Prince, to be his liaison, a devoted servant who by some miracle had managed to get into her father-king's closest guard.

He gave up the idea of murder because he knew that even if he had faked her suicide − the King would have blamed him for not watching over her and he would have lost everything, so he came up with another excuse, hiding himself behind sheer terror, hoping that she would believe him.

However, what purpose did what happened between them afterwards?

She pressed her lips together, feeling the heat in her body at the memory of that overwhelming feeling of fulfilment, that wonderful tickling and tension rising in her lower abdomen with each of his thrusts.

She placed her hand on her womb, swallowing hard at the thought that he had come inside her, that she could expect a child because of his seed.

She squeezed her eyelids shut, trying to breathe calmly, thinking only of how much better it would have been if he had let her die that night.

Her father had demanded, despite her objections, that she join the funeral feast in her mother's honour, so she walked reluctantly down to the great hall, her ghost following her at a greater distance than usual.

She thought that he himself was horrified by what had happened between them and the consequences that might follow.

She sat down at the table next to her brother, her father smiled at her and she reciprocated the gesture, thinking with amusement about how easy it was for her to pretend.

"There she is, my daughter. My treasure, my greatest support." He said with a pride from which her throat squeezed.

Only a few years ago she would have believed his words.

She felt him grasp her hand and she reciprocated the embrace, stroking his skin with her thumb.

"She's no longer a child and I've decided it's time to find her a suitable candidate for a husband." He said lightly, she felt her heart stop, the smile disappeared from her lips, on her face only pain mixed with disbelief.

They were at a feast dedicated to the funeral of her mother, his queen, and he was discussing her marriage.

"I ask that willing lords report to me on this matter." He said contentedly, letting go of her hand, and she closed her eyes, trying to calm herself.

She felt him standing behind her, felt his menacing, dark aura, and wondered what he was thinking.

If he imagined her lying in bed with another man, letting him sink deep between her thighs.

She left the feast quickly that evening, explaining to her father that she was tired, which he accepted with understanding. When she stepped into her chamber her servants helped her to pull off her mourning gown, once again offering her condolences, blowing out all the candles one by one.

She lay comfortably under the thick layers of furs, looking out the window at the cloudless sky full of stars, thinking about what had happened, unable to believe that by some miracle she was still alive.

As she began to slowly fall asleep she shuddered suddenly; she heard the door to her chamber open − Vhagar stepped inside without a word and closed it quietly behind him.

She watched with a rapidly pounding heart as, with an unhurried, lazy step, he approached her windows, untied the curtains and covered the only source of light with them, repeating this act until complete darkness fell around them.

She could see nothing but blackness.

She heard the sound of steel hinges opening, then the sound of a belt being unbuckled and the rustling of robes falling to the floor.

She lay still, her lips parted in horror and disbelief, felt once again this familiar, throbbing sensation between her thighs and embarrassing, sticky wetness.

She listened to his footsteps, the old wood creaking under his feet as he finally climbed onto her bed, she heard it bend under his weight.

She felt the touch of his big hand on her cheek and trembled, taking a deep breath, realising he wasn't wearing gloves, his warm breath wrapped around her face.

She tightened her hands on his bare, muscular shoulders as his fingers slipped into the ties of her nightgown and just ripped them open − she squealed when she heard the sound of the fabric being torn and a cool breeze surrounded her flesh.

"− I won't stop −" He said in a trembling, deep voice, so startlingly clear that shivers ran through her, her mouth parted wide in a helpless moan when she realised he wasn't wearing a mask.

She squealed loudly, her body arching all over, her hands clenched in his hair when she felt it, his cold, wet mouth clamped down on her warm breast, playing with her nipple, sucking and licking it, the spot between her thighs throbbing with pleasure and desire.

"− oh − oh, gods −" She mumbled out, never having felt anything like it in her life, his hands ripped her chemise off her and only then did she feel his whole naked body pressed against her skin − it was such an overpowering, shocking sensation that she was out of breath.

She wanted to enjoy every second of what was happening, his lips teasing her nipple with a loud click, clearly taking great pleasure from it, his hands tightened on her hips, forcing her to spread her thighs wider in front of him, her fingers stroking his hair − she thought with a trembling heart that they were unexpectedly soft and long.

"− we can't −" She choked out with an effort, wanting to retain the remnants of her sober thinking and decency.

He, however, only chuckled under his breath, amused, his hand from her hip slid down between her thighs − she whimpered loudly as his fingertips ran over her heat, collecting the moisture that had already managed to flow out of her, oversensitive and delicate.

"− should I leave you like this? − I'm not that cruel −" He hummed under his breath with a kind of excitement from which she quivered all over. She heard him raise himself higher on his elbow, his nose ran over her cheek − she gasped as she felt his fingers begin to apply more pressure, in sure, circular motions teasing the bud hidden between her folds.

All she could think about was that he wasn't wearing a mask, her hand rised involuntarily to touch his cheek.

"Tsk-tsk." He hissed as he caught her wrist − his tongue ran over her upper lip as his middle finger made its way inside her, searching with it for the spot he had rubbed earlier with his length. "Don't."

She mewled with delight and her body shook with a shiver of pleasure when he finally found it, her hips responded to his touch with desperate rocking, her mouth parted invitingly, letting his tongue deep into her throat, their lips joined in a sticky, loud, hot kiss.

She panted loudly along with him, stroking his hair as she felt him slide his finger out of her, impatient, his lips sucking and brushing her fleshy skin again and again as the tip of his manhood pushed against her swollen slit, thrusting forcefully inside her.

She clasped her hands on his bare back feeling the scars beneath them and cried quietly into his mouth, trying with difficulty to fit him inside her − he throbbed all over in arousal, her breasts pressed against his chest in the tight embrace of their bodies.

They both started to moan between loud, wet kisses as he began to root into her hot core − this time she was so wet that a few pushes of his hips were enough for him to begin slipping into her with ease.

"− mmm − that's it − so fucking good −" He panted into her mouth, gripping her hips tightly with his hands, stretching her tight walls with his length with every movement of his hips.

She moaned helplessly beneath him, stroking his hair, neck, shoulders and back, all sweaty from exertion, their lips finding each other in messy kisses over and over again.

"− fuck − do you really think I'm going to share what's mine? − that I would allow some mere, petty lord take you? − hm? −" He hissed out and she felt her walls clench tightly on him at his words in pleasure, heat surged through her lower abdomen from which her head completely spun, her helpless whimpering answered him.

"− p-please − I − ughmm −" She babbled, unable to focus on anything other than how he slammed his manhood into her, how wonderfully it teased the spot hidden in her walls.

She wrapped her legs around his waist, wanting to feel him closer, tightening her fingers on his back − she heard him groan low feeling it, speeding up, thrusting into her like crazy.

"− you want it, don't you? − my seed − deep, deep inside you − fuck, say it −" He breathed out between quick, deep, brutal thrusts − she felt him looking at her, felt his hot breath on her face, his forehead pressed against hers.

"− y-yes − please − fill me, fill me, fill me −" She mewled, both of them moaning loudly as a powerful orgasm shook her body, her core began to clench against him, forcing him to let go, his length twitching all over as his semen spilled deep inside her.

"− good gods, yes, take it −" He exhaled in delight, his thrusts sloppy and desperate, pushing his seed as deep into her as possible.

"− you're mine − I'm going to fill you every night − gods, you're going to bear me so many children −" He gasped in bliss, slowly coming down from his peak, the whimpers of pleasure coming out of her lips at his words − she wasn't sure she'd ever experienced anything like this in her life.

"− please −" She mumbled quietly like a helpless child, running her hands over his naked skin, wanting to remember that wonderful feeling − they were both hot and sweaty with pleasure, their bodies sticking to each other, her breasts pressed against his bare chest.

They both sighed when he finally fell on top of her, embracing her, their fingers sinking into each other's bodies, wanting to feel each other as much as possible, though she wasn't sure if two people could connect in any physical way more than they did now.

She could feel his loud, raspy breath against her cheek, the tip of his nose running over her hot skin, as if he wanted to check that it wasn't all just the result of his imagination.

"− stay − stay inside me −" She whispered, and he sighed quietly, as if relieved, with a gentle movement of his hips sliding his already half-soft manhood fully into her, hiding himself deep inside her.

Even though she knew it was wrong and irresponsible, that she couldn't trust him, that he was a traitor, she had never felt safer with anyone before, her eyelids closing involuntarily, having not experienced a peaceful sleep for so long.

"− don't open your eyes until I leave −" He whispered in her ear and she nodded, stroking his soft hair, her lungs filled with his scent, male sweat, steel, dust and fire.

His arms held her in a tight embrace through this night and many nights to come, making the days blend into one for her.

Each time he came to her he would cover the windows with curtains so that she could see nothing, and then sink his lips and tongue into the warmth between her thighs, groaning in delight as he felt how much of her moisture flowed out of her, only to end up rooting deep into her, as he promised, filling her with his seed.

He always rose before dawn − she could see through her closed eyelids that the first rays of light were sneaking into her chamber despite the curtains, that if she opened them she could see his face.

She feared, however, what she would see.

All she could think about all day was the night, what he brought to her along with the brutal, deep thrusts of his hips.

When he took her, he would say that he was her husband, that only he had the right to touch her, that she would only bear his children.

She was his.

He used to show this to her by standing closer than usual when she was eating or reading, by no longer leaving when she was taking a bath or changing, staring at her shamelessly, promising her servants in her presence that if they said anything to the King, he would end their lives.

"Vhagar doesn't mean it and he would never hurt you against my will. Am I right?" She asked coldly, frowning at him as the terrified girl tried to attach the long sleeves to her gown with trembling hands.

"Mmm."

When they were alone he would dare to approach her from behind as she sit, his leather-gloved hand running over her throat only to grasp her cheeks tightly and lift her face up, forcing her to look at him.

She stared into his eyes obscured by the dark material, at his mask, indifferent, cold, mocking, his thumb gently massaging her skin.

He didn't need to say anything − she could feel the tension between them quivering in the air, making her feel a throbbing inside her.

"Tonight I'm going to make use of those lips." He hummed softly, parting her lips with his finger − she closed her eyes, feeling that she couldn't last, her hand lifted swiftly the thick layers of her gown and slid deep between her thighs, sinking into her moist warmth.

He sighed quietly, looking down at it, clearly taking satisfaction from the fact that his mere presence made her unable to bear it, that she needed to relieve herself.

"− do you want it so badly? − me fucking those moist, sweet lips? − hm? −" He cooed, and she only whimpered, tilting her head back, resting it against his stomach, with a loud, embarrassing click rising and falling on her fingers, teasing her pearl at the same time, feeling her nipples grow hard with arousal.

"− please −" She mumbled, although she didn't know what she was asking for, they couldn't do it now − they had to wait until night fell, like every day.

"− you look wonderful like this −" He murmured, stroking her cheek with his thumb, his voice trembling slightly − she knew that he was already completely hard, that he was dying at the thought of being deep inside her at night. "− so devoted −"

She mewled at his words and felt him clamp his hand over her mouth, stifling her moans that escaped her throat as she reached her peak − she felt her walls clench hungrily on her fingers, wonderful waves of heat surged through her body again and again. She heard him gasp with satisfaction as he saw her body spilling in front of him on the chair.

"− mine −"

That night as they lay in complete darkness, both of them falling asleep, his nose snuggled into the hollow of her neck, his soft manhood deep inside her, she dared to ask him the question that had long been pressing against her tongue.

"Are you Prince Aemond's envoy?"

Her question hung in the air as if in the void; she felt his body freeze − for a moment he did not breathe, his fingers tightened on her soft skin.

Silence.

Long, cruel, cold.

"Yes."

She swallowed loudly, a shudder went through her at his words. He felt it and leaned in, placing a soft, warm kiss on her shoulder, his fingers squeezing her breast with affection.

"I want to help him. Can you convey this to him?" She asked in a whisper and felt him flinch all over, letting the air out of his lungs in disbelief − she felt him lift a little, his hot breath on her cheek.

"What do you mean?" He asked in a trembling, low, deep voice, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. She pressed her lips together feeling her heart pounding like mad.

"I will support him if he spares my little brother. If he agrees, I'll do whatever he wants." She said in pain, feeling a squeeze in her throat − his lips pressed quickly against her skin, greedily, violently, kissing and sucking her, his length throbbing hard inside her.

He began to move again, slowly rooting into her with a sigh of delight and relief, saying no more until they reached their peak together, panting loudly, their bodies heated and quivering with exertion.

"− be patient −" He whispered in her ear with such tenderness that she felt her heart squeeze, heat spilling over her lower abdomen. "− soon − I promise you, we'll be married soon −"

After what he said, she fell asleep filled with hope, with the fact that she wanted to believe his words, that he would really protect her, that perhaps a great bloodshed could be avoided this time.

That they would really get married.

She thought that now, that everything had come together in her mind, she could finally look at him − her future husband, the man who had taken her for himself, who brutally and indivisibly stormed into her heart.

That was why, even though she had sworn to him that she would not do so, hearing him get dressed in a hurry she lifted her eyelids.

She felt her heart freeze, her throat squeezed so tightly that she couldn't catch her breath.

He sensed something was wrong, subconsciously realised she had broken her promise and lifted his gaze to her, his hands clenched on the belt of his coat.

A large scar ran across his right cheek, in his eye socket not a blue iris, as it seemed to her when she looked at him through the thin black material, but a sapphire, glinting dangerously in the first rays of the sun, his lips clenched into a thin line, in his healthy eye pain, disappointment and anger.

"You shouldn't have done that."

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes

#aemond fic #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #aemond x oc #hotd aemond #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell fanfic #ewan mitchell smut #ewan mitchell fanfiction #aemond smut #aemond targaryen smut #dark aemond smut #dark aemond #dark aemond targaryen #modern dark aemond #dark aemond angst #aemond targaryen angst #aemond angst #hotd angst #aemond kinslayer #prince aemond #aemond #aemond one eye #aemond fanfic #hotd fanfiction #hotd fanfic #hotd fic #hotd fandom #ewan mitchell fandom #aemond fandom

[gingiesworld]

Obsessions (2/?)

Wanda Maximoff x Rogers Fem Reader

Warnings: Angst. Smut. Toxic Wanda.

AN: Ok, it seems it may be longer than just two parts :) I am just too invested in this arc between the two of them.

Taglist: @sytoran @ginnsbaker @gb12d @lifespectator

Part 1 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6

18+ MINORS DNI

Y/N had thought she had managed to leave Wanda behind, but Wanda had other plans. She had recieved scholarships from other schools, even Ivy league schools but she chose to go to NYU.

"Why are you doing this Wanda?" Pietro asked as he packed his things before heading out to LA.

"NYU is a great school. It has an amazing drama programme." She feigned as her twin saw right through her.

"If you were going to patch things up with Y/N then I would understand but." He sighed as he stared at his twin. "Y/N has been through a lot, and she never had anyone when she needed them. She never had you."

"Well she is a big girl." Wanda spat before she headed towards his bedroom door.

"What happened to you Wanda?" He questioned, she paused without turning to face him as he continued. "You used to be so selfless, kind and caring, now you're just like every superficial girl who will inevitably be alone." She shook her head as her eyes filled with tears as she slammed his bedroom door shut, heading straight to her own as she watched Y/N from her window.

"I can't believe my baby is leaving me." Peggy smiled as she brought out some fresh homemade lemonade as Y/N worked on the car.

"I know but I need you to promise me you will look after her." Y/N pleaded with her as she took the cold glass. "I can't take her with me because it's pointless with the traffic in New York but I will be getting the train back here every Friday too."

"I will look after her." Peggy told her. "If you want, I can just use your car through the week."

"No." Y/N whispered as she looked at the car, knowing that Peggy would be too hard on the breaks. "Maybe I should just give up on college and get a job."

"No." Peggy told her sternly. "I will warm the engine up everyday, Uncle Bucky will change the oil on the dates you've marked, and you will go to college. Become an Illustrator and make your father proud."

"I miss him." Y/N whispered as Peggy gave her a sad smile.

"He would be so proud of the woman you have become." Peggy cupped her cheek before giving it a pinch making Y/N laugh lightly. But once she heard that Wanda was heading to NYU, she was second guessing going.

"We will have different classes so I most likely won't see her." Y/N reasoned as she and Pietro through the football back and forth. "NYU is a big school and we may be in different dorms too."

"I really admire thr optimism Y/N." He smirked as Y/N shrugged.

"It's either that or don't go at all." She told him. "And my mom wants me to go."

"Well then go. Don't let my sister stop you from following your dreams." He told her with a gentle smile.

"Thanks P." She said sincerely as she caught the ball. "Go long." She told him as she threw the ball, watching as Pietro ran down the field and caught. The two cheered goofily before the collapsed beside each other.

The move to New York was something, the bustling halls of the dorms as Y/N found her own room. Seeing a red head on the other bed, reading a book.

"Hey." Y/N greeted her shyly.

"Hi." She beamed as she sat up. "You must be Y/N. I'm Natasha." The two started to get to know each other as they decorated Y/N's side of the dorm. Not realising that the person she wanted to avoid so much was only behind the wall.

Wanda was setting up her room as a brunette walked in. Smiling softly before she turned to her roommate.

"I'm Wanda." She introduced herself as she held her hand out.

"I'm Maria." She shook Wanda's hand. "I was just grabbing my purse." She turned to Wanda as she reached the door. "Do you want to join my friend and I at this new cafè?"

"Yeah. Let me just grab my coat." Wanda smiled as she put her coat back on. As Wanda was locking their door, Maria greeted her friend just outside.

"This is Y/N. Y/N this is Maria." Nat told her, Wanda soon turned to look at Y/N with a smirk.

"Fuck." Y/N muttered as Nat looked at her. "You know what, I'm actually feeling a little sick right now."

"You should lie down then." Nat told her as Y/N nodded.

"I will." Y/N bid her goodbye to Maria before disappearing inside the room, locking the door behind her.

As the weeks went by, she tried her hardest to avoid Wanda at any cost. Even if it meant waking up earlier and heading to the dining hall for breakfast before she sat outside the art class with her sketchbook and pencils.

As much as she loved to draw comics and sketches, she also loved to do landscapes and even do portraits. It was like a little side hobby.

"That's pretty." Wanda sneered as she leaned over Y/N's shoulder who just stopped her movements. Putting her things away before moving as far from Wanda as possible.

"Why are you following me?" She asked her ex friend who just shrugged.

"It's fun." Wanda smirked as she stepped closer until Y/N was backed up against the wall. "Besides, I haven't stopped thinking about you since prom night. Even as Jarvis was fucking me in the back of his car, I thought of you. Fucking me with your fingers." She held Y/N's hand and moved it to her lips, sucking on her fingers. "Then I would ride that strap I know you have hidden, while you are sucking and biting my nipples."

"Fuck you." Y/N spat as Wanda chuckled, watching as Y/N pushed passed her and headed to her building. Although a part of Wanda felt guilty, but she was too hopped on the adrenaline coursing through her veins to care.

That was the start of Wanda's claws slowly sinking in, even at the parties they were invited to, Wanda would watch Y/N's every move. Watching as she talked to other girls, but the one that urked her was Jean Grey. She was Wanda's rival in theatre and she hated her guts.

The feeling in her stomach grew more and more intense as she watched Jean laugh at something Y/N had said, touching her bicep as Wanda's gaze torn through them. What really got her was when she found the two kissing, well eating each other's face with Jean pressed up against the wall in the hall, so Wanda decided to walk passed and pretend to be drunk and bump into the two.

"What the fuck Wanda?!" Y/N yelled as she tried to wipe the alcohol from her jacket.

"Sorry." Wanda spoke with false sincerity. "I was just heading to the bathroom." With that she walked away as she heard Jean say she was going to find Scott. Soon enough Y/N pushed her into the nearest bathroom and Wanda up against the door.

"Why are you doing this?" Y/N asked her, anger was evident in her eyes and body language.

"No one else should get to kiss you." Wanda spat at her.

"I am not yours Wanda!" Y/N yelled as she wrapped her hand around Wanda's neck, squeezing lightly which caused her to whimper. Clenching her thighs at the simple action. "I was happy when we graduated because I thought I wouldn't need to see you again but you seem to have this obsession over me and I am fucking sick of it!"

"Please." Wanda whispered as she opened her eyes, gazing at Y/N through her eyelashes, her pupils blown with lust and desire. Her core aching with need, a need to be fucked mercilessly by Y/N. "I need it." She gripped Y/N's other hand and led it to between her thighs, sighing as she felt Y/N rub her clothed core. The arousal dripping as she thought of Y/N's fingers ruining her.

"You're pathetic." Y/N growled as she moved her underwear to the side, her lips ghosting Wanda's who moaned as Y/N licked her lips. Her fingers running through Wanda's soaked folds before finding her clit, rubbing circles which soon made Wanda's knees weak.

"I am." Wanda nodded as Y/N pushed two fingers inside of her gaping hole. Thrusting painfully slow as Y/N sighed against her lips. Her own core aching as she touched Wanda. Y/N had had a crush on her when they were friends, even after starting High School, she hated herself because she was still obsessed with the one person who broke her heart without even knowing it.

"Do you know how I have dreamt of this?" Y/N snarled as she went harder, adding another finger as Wanda whimpered as Y/N curled her fingers, finding her g spot with ease. "Four years. Although freshman and sophmore it was just an innocent crush but then you started to date Jarvis." Wanda moaned as Y/N kept her movements steady. "Then I wanted to ruin you. I wanted so bad to fuck you in the back of my car, on your bed and even on the field we used to go when we were younger, just to fuck you under the stars."

"Fuck." Wanda panted. "I need more."

"Tsk." Y/N shook their head no. "I am the one in control." Y/N removed her hands from Wanda before she could even cum. "And you will not cum. Not until I see fit." Y/N gripped Wanda's jaw as she gazed into her eyes. "You will not be the first girl that cums on these finger this year." Y/N ghosted her lips before speaking once more. "You left me when I needed you the most. You made my life hell so now you can suffer." She pulled away to wash her hands as Wanda stood there staring. "You won't be able to cum again, not when you know how my fingers feel, filling up your pussy." Y/N gave her a rough kiss as she pushed her against the wall beside the door, Wanda clenched around nothing at the force of Y/N. Her chest rising rapidly as she looked at herself in the mirror. This obsession can be the best thing or it can completely ruin the two of them, but she knows one things. She will be the first one to cum on Y/N's fingers, face and strap. She will be the first and the last if she has anything to do about it.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #marvel #elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen x reader #wanda x you #wanda x y/n #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x you #natasha romanoff

[snakeredbirdbatkatana]

Damian has learned many things since joining the family. He's found joy in Gotham even fighting Rouges and stopping crime he's made more happy memories here than he did while in the league.

Although he will always love his mother and be grateful for everything she has taught him many of those skills have been retired and he can't say he's partically angry about it.

What he's truly enjoyed most is his family Father and Richard, even Todd when he cooks and lets him sketch the alley cats that frequent his terrace.

'So Baby Bat guessing you weren't invited to the brother meeting tonight".

-

The pencil rolls hitting the floor. Jason was half paying attention more focused on the pasta he's stirring.

"I don't understand, what do you mean by that Todd"

Now Jason knows he's not exactly kept up to date on all the family's lovely adventures. But he can't place why Damian's voice is shaking.

Or why his little brother seems so hurt a part of him wants to scoop him up and wrestle his problems back to wherever hell they came from. But something stops him.

"I figured you were here cause of Dickbird and Timmy aren't you" he says carefully.

" Why would Drake and Richard have anything to do with my presence here." He spits, pausing.

"Are they together, Richard said he had something important to do and why would that be with Drake."

"Shit Dami sorry I must have made a mistake on the day it's the 16th not the 23rd my bad. The thing with Timmy is next week photography or something."

"Idiotic as ever Todd I will go back to my drawing now."

Jason would feel more offended at the blatant dismissal if he hasn't just lied.

Because Baby Brothers shouldn't be told that they aren't Dickie birds little Robin always.

That Dick is taking Tim on their weekly getaway to gone only knows where. That always seems to end with blood and death.

That their eldest brother is more fucked up then all of them combined and that only one is trusted enough to see what that means.

That as kind as Dick and even Tim can be they aren't always like that. There angry, vengeful, sadistic little shits that burn as much as they warm.

How's do you explain to the kid who's thinks the sun shines out of someone's ass that they are off galivanting with the favorite brother.

That the kid got off lucky for trying to kill the golden apple.

You don't.

You make food and watch him sketch the cat who's seen almost as many fights at Jason himself.

Ingnore your own twisted jealousy and pretend you wouldn't cut off your own arm if replacement asked.

Because only one Bat is unaware of who's the deadlist of who is lurking in the shadows weaving.

It's not Jason's place and more importantly he can't destroy the very pedestal that Jason still worships.

"Come on Dami, stop bugging the fucking cat and come eat."

Who's he to explain about the brothers who would put each other above all others even their own.

How do you explain that if you weren't practically the son of the last flying Grayson you would be another hidden name on a list more guarded than Bruce's emotions and that you would be rotting six feet under dead at the hands of your beloved Richard.

#tim drake #batfamily #jason todd #dick grayson #damian wayne #bruce wayne #batfam #bamf tim drake #bamf batfamily #Damian is Dicks son not his Brother #Jason is scared of both Dick and Tim #he should be #Dick and Tim are killing assassins #no one is invited to the party and Jason only knows cause he gets Drunk dialed

[maximwtf]

Hello person- I must say I love reading your lil fanfics always keeps me busy when It's in the middle of the night and I can't sleep lmao.

If I may, if you are still accepting requests- A Legolas x reader, where the reader isn't aware of a custom that elves have about braiding their hair and basically just accidentally confesses to him when they get bored one day and just start braiding his hair and only finds out when the Fellowship congratulates them for confessing or something along those lines hehehe

Legolas x reader

words: 1930

google docs pages: 3

warnings: none? fluff :D 

opening: One day while you’re bored, you begin to braid Legolas’ hair, unaware of its meaning to the elves. It’s only later, when you find out the message behind it. 

AN// Thank you so much for this request, love the idea! (this also gives me a reason to not write the other ideas I've been putting off xd) idk if this is a little ooc, but I hope it’s okay^^ It’s also lovely to hear that you enjoy my work!^^ Reader can be any gender !

         “A time for congratulations?”

It hadn’t been long since you had joined the fellowship from Rivendell, like most of the others had too. The only one you knew better than the others was Legolas. Him you had met more than a few times in the past, mostly as an accident, but you did genuinely enjoy his company. You’d never admit it to anyone in the group, but you were happy that he had been the one from Mirkwood to join. You heard it had been his father who had suggested befriending Aragorn to him, and it was when Legolas had begun to look for Aragorn that he had met you. Aragorn you had only met a few times, and back then only knew him as “strider” like most. The others you had only met when the Fellowship had been formed, but all of them had seemed okay. 

Now, trailing behind Legolas, you examined your surroundings silently. Old trees with roots going all across the forest blocked the view on your right and on the left only a few trees were growing, enjoying the sun they were able to get. The trees on the left casted dark shadows on the almost non existent road you were walking on. Gandalf had seemed to be very certain that there was a trail going here, but you weren’t so sure. But since no one else had doubted him, you had decided to just follow along. At least you weren’t going to get lost alone.

As your gaze moved from left to right, amazed by the sturdy old trees, being able to stand for such a long time, you noticed Legolas turning to look at you for a moment. It was only for a split second, but it made you humm to yourself. Perhaps he was happy to see you too. It was rarely that you could spend more time with him, mostly just short bump ins every now and then. He was a prince, and probably had a lot to do.

The group seemed to have noticed the darkened shadows of the trees, and decided to set camp for the night. The sun seemed to be setting, making the casted shadows even darker before the sky would begin to follow along. Spreading the darkness of the upcoming night all over.

You had agreed to take the first watch shift of the night before anyone could steal it from you. You’d rather stay up late and go to sleep than wake up in the middle of the night to take your turn. Boromir and Gimi seemed to have collected some bigger pieces of wood and some sticks that Aragorn had been able to set on fire to create a campfire. Legolas, you and the hobbits helped to bring some rocks and logs around the fire so everyone could sit. Sam had requested if he could make something to eat, and surprisingly enough no one had disagreed. The start of the night seemed to be going smoothly. 

As Sam had begun to cook some kind of a soup or a stew, everyone else had spread around the fire. Some were fixing up their weapons and others just talking. You swore you had seen Merry and Pippin bothering Boromir too. You on the other hand had found a spot close to the fire. Most of the ‘seats’ had been taken, but that just allowed you to sit closer to the warming flames of the campfire. Legolas had seated himself near you. You could hear him lowering his bow and the quiver against the log he was sitting on. Other than that and the quiet talking, the only noise you could hear was the mixing of the soup Sam was making. Sometimes the ladle would hit the edges of the saucepan, causing a small noise to break the silent gaps.The moon was only a half, but since there weren't a lot of clouds in the sky, it was able to shine its light all over the forest. At times it felt like time had stopped after the sun had started to go down, and was still shining some light over the fellowship. It was only the cold night air that let you know it indeed was almost time to go and rest. 

You shivered under your clothes, pulling the cloak closer to you, making sure it was properly over your shoulders. Something rustled behind you, and soon another cape was placed over you. A small ‘huh?’ left your mouth as you turned to look who it was. Legolas clipped the front clip shut so the cloack wouldn’t fall off of you. “You seemed cold.” He said, smiling slightly as he sat back down. “I- Thank you.” You said, still confused by the gesture. “Aren’t you going to be cold?” You then asked, feeling bad if he’d have to freeze because of you. The elf laughed lightly at your question and shook his head. “Elves can tolerate the cold better than humans, therefore you should keep it.” He explained to you. 

You had never really thought of how different you were to him. Sure, you were friends with him, but you had no idea that the elves could tolerate the cold better than humans. Maybe you’d find out something else about him as the fellowship continued. This had to only one from many things that made elves so different from you. 

You noticed that the faint light of the moon made his almost white hair look magical. The usually well braided strands of hair had opened up from the fighting the group had gone through with a few orcs earlier that day. You had noticed that the prince usually kept his hair well done, but maybe he hadn’t noticed yet. 

Not being sure if you’d embarrass him if you pointed it out, you got up and sat next to him. You weren’t an elf but you had gotten your hair done before and over the years learned how to braid hair in different styles. So without another word, you took a hold of one of the half opened braids and began to undo it completely. Legolas seemed to have tensed up for a moment and you felt his eyes on you, but to your surprise he soon turned his gaze away and let you continue. 

You braided the first strand of hair, pulling it behind his ear the way you’d seen him usually have them. After starting to fix the other one, you felt another pair of eyes on the two of you. With a quick look you found out who it was. Aragorn was sitting on the other side of the campfire with an amused look on his face. Not understanding what he had found amusing, you kept on working on Legolas’ hair. The prince’s hair was smooth and easy to work with. Humming to yourself, “you have lovely hair.” You said quietly, seeing the man shiver, but saying nothing about it. You were enjoying the moment, getting to feel closer to your friend for once. The warmth of Legolas’ cloak and the fire kept you warm and protected from the gusts of wind. The smell of the soup Sam had made was good, and it felt great to know you were going to be eating something that not only would taste good but also would be warm. You felt like you had only been eating bread and apples for such a long time. 

You finished the other braid and mixed it in with the unbraided parts of his hair. “Both are fixed again.” You hummed mostly to yourself but out loud so Legolas could hear it too. You felt his eyes on you for a moment before they moved to Sam, when he handed the both of you a bowl with some steaming soup in it. You thanked the hobbit with a nod, and began to eat. From the corner of your eye, you caught Aragorn telling Gimli something and them both silently laughing. Trying not to pay no mind to the conversation, you couldn't help but to wonder if it was about what Aragorn had found so amusing earlier?

After that night, many more passed. Some worse and some just as good, but what kept everyone going was the mission and the people in the fellowship. Legolas never mentioned anything about you braiding his hair, and he even let you do it once or twice after. But after every time, it felt like more eyes were on the two of you. It was first only Aragorn, then Gimli joined and soon even Gandalf was in on it. At times it felt like even Legolas knew what was going on. 

After some time of you being oblivious of what had been going on, you decided to bring it up. You had so many theories of what they could have been up to, that you just had to find out. Making your way from the back of the group to where Legolas, Aragorn and Gimli were, you prepared yourself. “What are you hiding from me?” This got the attention of the three, all of them slowing down their walking speed a little. “Whatever do you mean?” Legolas asked, giving Aragorn a quick look, almost as if he was trying to tell the man something. “You all clearly have been sharing a rumor or something along the lines of that.” You replied, but didn’t get an answer from anyone for a moment. “You should tell them.” Gandalf’s voice rang from the front of the group, clearly also aware of what you were talking about. “It isn’t a rumor per say.” Gimli started, looking at Aragorn for a moment, hoping he’d take it from there. You saw Legolas look away, not taking part in the conversation. “We wished to congratulate you on confessing to Legolas.” Your eyes widened for a moment, and without even wanting to, a “what?” Left your mouth. “They weren’t aware, Aragorn.” Legolas finally joined in, looking at his friend. “What is this all about?” You tilted your head. “When you braid his hair. See, to elves it has a significant meaning behind it.” Aragorn tried to explain. Your hand traveled over your mouth, clearly shocked. “And you didn't think to tell me?” You blushed slightly, smacking Legolas’ arm lightly. He stopped, taking a light hold of your hand to pause you as well. “I wanted to explain it to you but I found that..” He tried to look for words for a moment, and you let him. “I found that I cared for you that way, and I wasn’t certain if you had found the meaning yourself...” His eyes met yours again, after traveling for a moment. You stayed silent, not even noticing that the rest of the fellowship had also stopped near the two of you. “But I am aware that I should have told-” Legolas broke the silence but you stopped him before he could finish. “It’s all okay. I feel similar.” You admitted, looking away for a second. “Is this a better time for congratulations?” Gimli’s voice asked from behind you as Aragorn walked closer as well. “Yes, yes it is.” You smiled and turned back to Legolas. His eyes looked at you with admiration in them. “Gi Melin.” (I love you)

#lord of the rings #lotr #the hobbit #th #x reader #lord of the rings legolas #lotr legolas #fanfic #fanfiction #lord of the rings x reader #lotr x reader #legolas greenleaf #legolas greenleaf x reader #the hobbit legolas #legolas beloved #legolas x reader

[kingkatsuki]

Thinking about Bakugou being nervous to introduce you to his family for the first time. And it’s not because he’s embarrassed of you, or worried about what they might think. He already knows his mother will adore you, Mitsuki’s spent so many years chewing his ear off about finding the perfect partner and now he’s done it. And his father will just be happy to see him settled with someone that he loves, Masaru often worrying about his son as the number two hero.

The real reason why Bakugou has never introduced you to his parents is because he likes having you all to himself.

You’re like that safe haven that he returns home to after all the dangers he faces each day at work, the constant that grounds him and makes him happy. It’s selfish really, how he keeps you so close to his chest. And it doesn’t make sense when he starts to realise how upset it makes you that he hasn’t introduced you to his family yet, how he hasn’t let you in to that part of his life. He shared stories with you about his childhood, about his home life, but nothing quite compares to seeing the home and meeting the people who raised him.

“It’s okay, Katsuki.” You hum softly as you take his sweaty palm in your own so tenderly, stopping him from bouncing from toe to toe as you immediately ground him.

The door opening to find both his parents on the other side, his mother almost knocking him to the floor to swoop you into her arms.

“Ah, you must be the beautiful girl my sons been hiding from us for all this time,” Mitsuki captures you in a welcoming hug, while Masaru clamps a reassuring hand on Bakugou’s shoulder, “You know I was starting to think I’d never get grandchildren.”

And now Bakugou wonders what he was ever nervous about.

Watching from the kitchen as his mother lays a photo album on your lap, pointing out photographs of him as a young child, pictures of him dressed as Dynamight, first day of school, Christmases, and first swimming lessons.

“He used to be terrified of water, you know.” Mitsuki grins as she points at a particular picture, “He’s always hated the rain, even to this day.”

“He was so cute,” You coo, letting your fingers run over the smooth plastic covering the photos as you give each one your attention.

“He still would be if he got rid of that scowl,” Mitsuki continued, “And look, this one he refused to put his swimming trunks on so he just ran around the house naked—“

“You old hag,” Bakugou growled from the kitchen, although the words carried no real malice, not anymore. Almost dropping his mug of tea in embarrassment as you laughed beside her, “Not those damn photos.”

“Oh come on, it’s not like she hasn’t seen you naked, you brat.”

“She got the naked ones out again, huh?” Masaru chuckled beside him as he continued to plate dessert.

“Damn woman.” He mumbles beneath his breath, unable to resist your silent plea for him to join you as you raise your hand to beckon him over.

There’s just something special, intimate when Bakugou opens his life up to you like this. He could quite happily keep you to himself, but his family and friends deserve to have you in their lives too. The light that radiates from you deserves to be shared and cherished.

#just being the only one to get this intimate look into the real him? sigh #soft bakugou #bakugou x reader

[m0chisenpai]

Somethings Off

Pre Avatar Way of Water

Jake Sully x black!reader x Neytiri

Something is wrong. You can’t figure out what. 

As you unconsciously run a hand through Lo’aks hair, hoping to soothe the poor little boy. And as you gently bounced him on your hip you wondered if Eywa was not on your side during this time. He wouldn’t leave you today, neither him nor his older brother. The poor boy was attached to your hip the moment he awoke that morning. He squished his way in between yours and Jake’s body, not that he wasn’t used to sleeping together like that.

So you gladly held him to your chest and fall back to sleep, enjoying the gentle feel of his hands playing with the beaded ends of your hair. 

But it was like he was protecting you. His arms held you like his fathers held you when you rode his ikran for the first time. Or like Neytiri when she held you in her arms on a hunt, how she hovered in front of you and pressed a protective hand behind her. Netayem was no better than his little brother, tugging at the beads which dangled from your loincloth as you walked by.

The boys had been like this for some days now. And maybe it was the minor scare from the previous week when you’d gotten lightheaded in the heat of the day. But it was not unusual for the heat to get to your head.  

What really scared you was when it came time to join the hunting party. Both boys threw a fit when you attempted to step away and put on your protective gear. Even Neytiri was shocked having to step in and grab hold of Netyaem who latched himself on one leg and Lo’ak the other. Their loud wails was enough for you and Neytiri to bring the crying children into your arms 

“What is wrong with you boys?” Jake huffed as he stepped into the tent, hearing you and Neytiri bring their cries down to soft whimpers.

“I don't know it’s been like this all morning. My sweet Lo’ak you know I must join the hunters, mama will be back and you have-”

“No!” his arms wrapped themselves tighter around your neck and his legs locked themselves around your torso.

“Stay sa’nok! Stay!” Netayem wailed, reaching his arms toward you.

You alerted the leader of the hunt that your mate and children needed you, that you’d join them on the next hunt. He was more than understanding, after all Netayem and Lo’ak were just 5 and 6 they were at the age of still needing their mothers. So Jake joined the party leaving kisses on his sons heads and a peck on the cheek for both you and Neytiri.

Rain came down gently that day setting a drowsy tone amongst the clan. But you couldn’t shake that feeling off. So you convinced the boys to let you and Neytiri take them both into the forest to enjoy the light rain.

 As the four of you ventured into the forest your boys settled upon a spot to play hunters. It warmed your heart, seeing how much Neytiri was in Netayem with how patient he was with his brother and Jake in Lo’ak with that bright smile he got from his father. 

You and Neytiri watched on, commenting on the fierce warrior Lo’ak capture and take down the mighty sturmbeest. As you watched on and laughed till your belly hurt your eyes drifted to the tree you sat below, ripe banana fruit dangled so tantalizing but was far out of your reach.

“Tiri,” your mate's eyes cut to you. And it's the moments like this where she falls even more helplessly in love with you. As the rain slowly drips down your arms which reach above you, your beads cling to your chest in a way that takes her breath away. “Can you reach these fruits please my Tiri. ‘M so hungry.”

And you would have asked why Neytiri was looking at you as though you sprouted two heads, had you remembered how much you hated the fruits. Something about them being too heavy on your stomach. But you were too focused on the dangling fruit which she brought down for you and the boys to eat. You devoured three and worked on your fourth one on the walk back to the Hometree once the boys started to curl in your arms. 

When you got back to the tree and settled the boys in you managed to sneak off to assist Mo’at with any healings that day. And as you pinched flowers into the bowls grinding them the elder woman’s eyes remained on your body. 

“Eywa shines on you today” she comments as your gentle hands apply a salve to one of the young hunters' wounds. 

“Are you sure it is not because of the rain?” You jest back wrapping his arm and sending him out the tent. Your hand lays on the curve of your back as you lean back gently stretching the dull soreness. 

“I am sure.” She stops you with her hands resting on your abdomen. And you feel it as she presses, that slight firm bump, it all makes sense. The discomfort during your sleep, how you struggled to keep your strong stance when you and Neytiri hunted together. “No,” you shook your head quickly. The way the boys cling to you. The banana fruit. You were with child. Your hand covers your mouth as tears pool in your eyes. 

“I see you, my daughter” she pressed her forehead to yours, and sent you off back to Neytiri who watched you walk to her in a daze into the tent. She immediately presses a hand to your cheek to catch your eyes.

“What is it my Y/N?” And you can't find the words, so you take her hands and slowly lay them onto your stomach pressing so she too could feel. And the way her ears twitch and tail swishes in excitement makes her eyes gaze up into your own excited ones.

“My love” the two of you giggle in excitement pressing a loving kiss to her lips which peck your cheeks eliciting more silent giggles from you “Thank you great mother!” The two of you work on sharpening her bows as you wonder, what will he or she look like?.

It is dark by the time the hunters come back and the clan welcomes them with yips and cheers. You and Neytiri happily greet Jake who presses a kiss to both of your lips. And the two of you share a passing look which Jake raises an eyebrow to. “In time,” you whisper into his ear and send him off to bathe before you all join together to eat. The meat is rich and tastes like heaven as you eat with your boys by the fire. The boys jump up and down telling their father how they too had a hunt of their own in the forest.

And it warms your eyes watching Jake smile and praise them both. 

Kava is served and Jake once again raises a brow in surprise when you decline the drink choosing to sip cool water. Jake finally gets the chance to ask you what is wrong when Neytiri walks the boys to bathe and you put out the fire and set about putting dishes up.

He eyes you as straightened up stretching and twisting till a satisfied groan is pulled, “you ok love?’

“I am,” your gaze doesn’t waver at the question as you watch the stars twinkle in the beautiful sky, “was just thinking about the hunt is all. I’d like to go with you, my Jake.”

His eyes shine with his tail conveying his excitement. “Of course, whenever you want. I miss hunting with you.”

“It will be harder though” your bottom lip pokes out into a pout as you look into Jake’s worried eyes, and he takes hold of both your hands pulling you close to him. His hand cups under your jaw to tilt your gaze up to look into his own eyes. 

“Why? I'm sure the boys will have a better day tomorrow.”

“No, not them. Someone else.” And the confusion continues to sit in his face until you take his hands to cup your abdomen and feel. And his eyes lit up brighter than any star that night. 

“No..” and your nods elicit a shout of joy as he lifts high into the air bringing you down into a loving kiss beneath the stars. He presses his forehead against your arm closing his eyes as you breathe together. 

“Hopefully it’s twins.”

“Jake!”

#avatar x reader #jake x reader x neytiri #neytiri x reader x jake #jake sully x reader #neytiri x reader

[ma1dita]

Hii!! Congrats on 23!!! I love your writing!! Idk if you write for Jason Grace, but if you do could you do something with a daughter or Dionysus reader where it’s just her trying to loose him up a little bit? Or maybe them at a party?? Thank you so muchh!

🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥

jason grace x dionysus!reader

a/n: underage drinking lol but that comes with a dionysus!reader ,,, ty for the request my love!

wc: 683

“So you’ve like, never been to a party?”

You’re smacking on a piece of gum as the both of you watch the party come alive in your cabin. Cabin 12 was always the place to be on weekends with it just being you and Pollux, and everyone knows that no one can throw a party like a Dionysus kid. Though with the way Jason’s leaning against the corner of the wall you both take up with a beer in hand, it’s like he doesn’t know what to do with himself. Ever since his arrival at Camp Half-Blood, you’ve come to notice that there is possibly no version of him that is ever at ease.

“Never really had the time.”

Well, that just won’t do.

You teach Jason all the things a teenager usually does at a party, from drinking a few cups of spiked punch (which was much more pleasant than the beer), to dragging him onto the dance floor once the drinks set in (he thinks he likes spinning you around until your laughter bubbles over like sparkling champagne), to finally getting him to join a few party games. Jason killed it at cup pong, watched you annihilate other campers at king’s cup, until an Aphrodite kid insisted you end off the night with 7 minutes in heaven. A chorus of both groans and cheers were heard around the room, and Jason looks at you confused. His glasses glint under the fairy lights and you giggle at his lost puppy look.

7 minutes in his father’s domain didn’t seem like a good game to him, so he leans in to listen to you whisper the mechanics of it all. His cheeks redden, and he’s unsure if he wants to play.

“Come on, it’ll be fun, sparky.”

You gave him the nickname because he always looks like someone’s lit a fire under his butt—too uptight and cordial for your liking.

Sitting around while mismatched couples took their turns in your linen closet wasn’t really Jason Grace’s idea of fun, but he supposes he doesn’t really have a good grasp on that either. He trusts you though, for what it’s worth. A son of Jupiter having full faith in a daughter of Dionysus must be a deadly combination.

When Piper calls out both of your names, he supposes that could be fun. You grab his wrist and he follows you into the dim closet, everyone’s voices muffled through the closed door. 

“Is this okay?” He whispers, even if no one else can hear him but you. Your smile is intoxicating when it’s directed at him, he realizes, and he wonders if he’s finally drunk. 

“Yeah. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Jace,” you say sincerely. At a wave of your fingers, the hesitation and impairment from the punch subsides a little; a light buzz settles in your stomachs. Jason pushes his glasses up and then dares to ask, “So what do people usually do when they’re in here?”

You raise your eyebrows. You didn’t think you’d have to spell it out for him.

“Um, well…they kiss. Or other things…”

“Oh.”

You giggle at his shock, leaning in slowly and waiting for him to make the final move. Jason closes the distance and there are a few things that surprise you about this kiss. It’s intense, lips molding onto yours with the passion he puts into everything he does, wanting to do the job well. Whether it be the waning effects of alcohol or a static shock—it made the both of you hyperaware, lightly panting before his hands pull you in by the waist and you smile into the scar on his lip, grabbing onto his tshirt. You tilt your head to the side and let him consume you once more, a floaty feeling in your chest until you realize—the both of you are actually flying. 

A muffled groan leaves him when his head hits the lightbulb, sparks flying out as you land in his arms. 

Lips locking through the laughter, Jason finally understands why you would think this is fun.

#jo's 23rd birthday bash ⋆｡°✩ #jason grace x reader #heroes of olympus x reader #hoo x reader #made by ma1dita ♥︎

[suuuupernovaaa]

mong

mong [m·oŋ] vtr. depend on, rely on, trust for protection

Anonymous Request: I was wondering if you could do a Neteyam x f reader who grew up with/around the Sullys and Jake and Neteyam are protective of her. And then one day she walks into their tent or a gathering and just rushes into Neteyams arms and clings to him they are all worried. Neteyam comforts her and holds her while Jake tries to solve the problem?

1,551 words

My mother's grip on my upper arm was so tight that I knew it would leave bruises.

"You will do this," she hissed in my ear. "There is no other choice. Don't be foolish."

With much effort, I pulled my arm from her grasp and stumbled back, staring at her, horrified.

Before anyone else could speak, I ran.

--

"Was Y/N hunting today?" Jake Sully asked his eldest son as he and his family sat around a small fire, finishing up cleaning and drying their kills from the day.

"Yes," Neteyam replied.

Jake nodded, wiping off his knife. "You should have gone with her."

Neteyam sighed. He knew his father worried about Y/N, a girl - now woman - his age, and everyone knew why, but no one really said it.

Her parents were... unkind, and that was putting it lightly. He didn't think they'd ever put a hand on her, but even for Na'vi, they were harsh and unforgiving, and not for the sake of raising her right and keeping her safe in a dangerous world.

Just for the sake of being harsh. They didn't seem to like their own daughter very much, which confused the Sullys. She was kind, soft spoken, intelligent, and always supportive to her loved ones. There wasn't anything not to like about her.

Jake had watched her grow up, from a distance at first, and then encouraged his children to be friends with her. She'd latched to them immediately, and eventually to him and his wife as well, becoming almost a part of the family.

It seemed to be getting worse lately, and anytime she wasn't with the Sully family, the worry was there at the back of Jake's mind. He supposed he was really starting to think of her as a third daughter, and having her away from him for long periods of time caused him some anxiety.

He knew his oldest son felt a similar worry for the girl, but for entirely different reasons.

As if summoned by the mention of her name, Y/N burst through the door, causing every Sully head to turn her way. She breezed past everyone and threw herself right into Neteyam's arms, crying loudly, which was very uncharacteristic for her.

Jake jumped up immediately, and Neytiri ran to Neteyam's side, placing her hand on Y/N's back as she sobbed.

"What have they done now?" Jake huffed under his breath, wondering what kind of laws were in place that would allow him to punish her parents for the way they treated this poor, sad girl.

"What is it, child?" Neytiri asked, but Y/N was too upset to speak. Her breaths were coming in shallow gasps, and Neteyam looked to his mother and then his father with wide, panicked eyes.

Kiri joined the three of them on the floor, placing a hand on Y/N's back right next to her mothers. The two women in unison closed their eyes and began taking in deep breaths, low and slow, in and out.

It took a while, but Neteyam felt Y/N doing the same as she clung to him.

"There you go," Neteyam whispered, stroking her hair as she breathed. He had never seen Y/N so much as frown, none the less cry. No matter what she was put through, her dispositioned always remained sunny and calm. Something terrible must have happened.

"Tell us what happened," Neytiri said, and Y/N finally sat up, but Neteyam would not let her out of his arms. She had to turn, settling in his lap, with his arms crossed over her chest.

--

Even though I knew the Sullys had noticed that my parents were different, I had never spoken of it to them. What was the point? I could not change who my parents were. I could only keep my head down, be respectful, and hope to escape when I was older.

And now, I had been offered and escape, and I would rather die than accept it.

"They have... they are forcing me to mate with Marek," I said finally, and Neteyam's arms over my chest tightened, pulling my back into his chest, as Kiri gasped.

I cast my eyes downward, embarrassed at my outburst, and at burdening their family with this - but I didn't know where else to go.

"Marek is awful," Kiri whispered. "He's mean, and cruel, and he's..."

"Just like my father," I whispered, tears pricking at the corner of my eyes again. I looked up to Jake, the man I'd always wished had truly been my father, and the expression on his face was dark and malicious.

"This will not happen. Neteyam, with me, now."

Neteyam frowned, holding me tightly to him, but his father demanded he join him a second time, and they left without so much as a word.

Neytiri and Kiri held me tightly as Lo'ak and Tuk stood nearby, and I wished for the millionth time that I had been born into this family instead.

--

Netyeam and his father returned almost an hour later, very quiet, somewhat relieved and mostly nervous.

When they entered, Neytiri was braiding Y/N's hair while Kiri and Tuk sang softly by the fire. Lo'ak sat nearby, looking oddly out of place.

"Okay, well," Jake said as he entered, spreading his arms to the side. "I think we should give Neteyam and Y/N a little space to talk."

Y/N furrowed her brown. Netytiri squeezed her should and Kiri patted her on the knee before the entire Sully family, minus Neteyam, rose to leave.

Jake approached before he left, and put a hand on her shoulder. "We would never let anyone hurt you, Y/N, and we did what we thought was best to protect you... but nothing is set in stone. You get to decide your path."

Y/N tilted her head to the side, extremely confused and in the dark, but Jake left, leaving just Y/N and Neteyam there.

"Neteyam, tell me what's going on!" she said, and the two of them quickly approached each other, meeting in the middle of the tent.

"My dad and I, we went to speak to your parents and..." Neteyam cleared his throat. "On the way there, I told my father the truth, Y/N. I told him that there were many reasons I want you away from Marek, and your parents. I want you to be safe, and loved, and treated the way you deserve. And I want all this because I... I have been in love with you for a very long time."

Y/N was quiet before him, her face nearly expressionless, extremely hard to read, so Neteyam pressed on.

"We spoke to your parents and we made them an offer. I asked them for your hand. I asked their permission to be your mate."

Remaining stoic, Y/N's expression did not change. Neteyam reached out, taking her hands into his.

"If this is not what you want, you only have to tell me, and we will find a safe place for you. You will have the protection of your Olo'eyktan. Of my family."

Y/N opened her mouth, and then shut it again, and to his great horror, she was crying once more. Soft, quiet tears rolled from her eyes and down her cheeks.

He was prepared to tell her again, she didn't have to do anything she didn't want to do, when she took her hands from his, put them on either side of his face, and pulled his lips to hers.

--

I was frozen as Neteyam spoke. Not only had he saved me from my parents and from Marek, but he had somehow granted me the deepest desire of my heart? A hope that I had never spoken to a single soul?

For years, I had harbored a love for Neteyam, that only grew as we spent more time together.

He was standing before me now, offering me everything I'd ever wanted, and making it clear for the first time in my life, that I had complete control over my own destiny.

Overtaken by relief, gratitude and joy, all I could do was pull him to me in a long overdue kiss.

When I pulled away, Neteyam wiped the tears from my eyes.

"Is that... a yes?" he asked, and I had to laugh.

"Of course it is. And, Neteyam, please know this is not just to escape. I have loved you for a long time. We could have both saved each other some anguish by just admitting that a while ago."

Neteyam pulled me in for a tight hug, and I reveled in how completely safe I felt in his arms. I reveled in the joy of finally becoming a Sully. I reveled in the delight of never having to see my parents again if I didn't want to.

Soon, the tent was full of Neteyam's family once more, cheering, and crying a little, and celebrating.

Jake was the first to pull me into a hug, and he whispered in my ear. "I always knew you were meant to be my daughter, one way or another."

We smiled at each other, and the feeling of calm and safety grew, settling over all of us - and it would never disappear again.

#neteyam #neteyam x reader #neteyam fic #avatar twow #Jake sully

[crisiscutie]

Darling and Sephiroth cockwarming after a long day of dealing with the kids? 😣

This Fluffy Sephiroth or "Fluffy" Sephiroth? 🤔 I will make this Fluffy boi. Yandere version here. Enjoy this scenario~.

Content Warning: NSFW. Some angst.

Exhausted from your maternal duties, you almost collapsed onto the bed, but you managed to steady yourself, avoiding any discomfort for yourself or the little one inside of you. You love your triplet boys. You really do. But sometimes you wanna just throw them into a chest and ship them off to the promised land... or whatever that is. Not too long after your arrival, the bedroom door slammed open, making the poor hinges creak for dear life. You couldn't help but smirk briefly, knowing that the only other person who could have made such a grand entrance in your household, aside from your son Loz, was his dear father.

Sephiroth took a moment to calm himself before slowly closing the door, mentally adding yet another item to the growing list of house repairs. Afterward, he untangled his disheveled high ponytail, allowing his flowing silver mane to cascade down his back. Finally, he approached the bed and motioned for your pillow. You smiled, lifting your head from your pillow as you allowed him to remove it and fluff it up for you. Even when he's on his last nerve, he's still so thoughtful and sweet to you. He then joined you on the bed, his throbbing cock pressing against your eager entrance, covered by your silky panties.

You pulled your panties aside, granting him access. You two have been waiting all day to fuck, but one distraction came after another. But now, the moment was here. A low grunt escaped his lips as he slowly entered, your wet cunt stretching around his cock. He held you close, with one hand supporting your breasts and the other tenderly cradling your pregnant belly.

"Are you sure this next one is only a single?" he asked playfully.

"We must trust the midwives, my love," you retorted.

"No one can be sure of everything. I hope Angealica can handle the boys right now..."

"Of course she can. She's our firstborn, and already mastered the art of keeping the boys in check!" You couldn't see it, but you know he's got a big smile on his face. You let out a pleasurable sigh as he lazily thrusts, savoring the sensation of his thick cock being massaged by your walls.

"So, what do you think it will be?" You asked, your gaze fixed on the sunset over the fields from the bedroom window. In the distance, you could see the village that your family frequently visits. Sephiroth slightly narrowed his eyes and his hand began to slowly rub your pregnant belly. It's almost as if he was listening or communicating with something. After a short while of silence, you said his name, wondering if he heard your question or if he zoned out.

"...It will be a girl." He blurted out. You raised an eyebrow and laughed.

"Are you just saying that because you don't want more boys?"

"No. I'm certain," he said, his slit eyes darting off to the bedroom window, watching the sunset like you.

"If you say so. What name should we pick for her, then?"

"Lucrecia..."

"Hmmmm," you mumbled. The name had a nice ring to it, although it seemed oddly specific to suggest at a time like this. You want to ask him where he got it from, though you're sure that he had already endured a relentless barrage of questions from Yazoo today, so you'd leave it be for now. "I like that name... How about Lulu for a nickname? Or Lucy?" His cock twitched inside you as his normally lazy thrust had a bit more vigour to it this time. "I'll take that as a yes," you huffed out, as he quietly chuckled. The two of you relaxed in silence for a short while after that, now watching the moon overtake the skies while wild chocobos wandered through the fields. Soon, the silence was disrupted by a thought that entered your mind.

"Our tenth anniversary is coming up... It's incredible to think about how far we've come. From being SOLDIERS to building a beautiful family away from Shinra, it's truly remarkable. He would be proud." Sephiroth's vast white wing sprouted from his back, it enveloped both of you, his grip tightening ever so slightly.

"I..." his velvety voice trailed off. One of his fingers gently traced the intricate engravings on your mako-encrusted wedding band. He had crafted it for you years ago, just before the arrival of your firstborn.

"-was so scared of losing you, like how I lost my mother. That's why I wanted to give this to you as a parting gift," he whispered, his voice trembling. Your eyes grew heavy as the realization washed over you. No wonder he had seemed so mournful when Angealica's birth was approaching. Without warning, he thrusted once more, eliciting a sharp yelp from you as his cock hit your cervix. He then nuzzled into your neck and whispered a quiet apology, his tears cascading onto you. In that moment, you clasped your hands over his, affirming your unwavering support for him. It was only natural that a fear like that still lurked in his heart, but it was undeniable that he had become a better man throughout it all.

"Don't worry," you reassured. He lifted his head from your neck. "If I didn't leave you then I won't leave you now. For good luck, why don't we renew our vows? It'd be a celebration of the people we became, our rebirth. Fate did its damndest to keep us apart, but we couldn't be stopped." He stayed silent, allowing your words to sink in. A moment later, he spoke up.

"So be it," he said. You had to stop yourself from yelping in delight at his response. Despite the lingering doubt within Sephiroth, he was comforted by knowing you would help him navigate through it.

"So much to plan~! What should we get the boys to wear? I wonder if the village boutique sells maternity wedding dresses-"

"I admire your eagerness love," Sephiroth said, his voice slightly trembling. "But maybe we should save the planning for another time. It's been a long day," his words carried a hint of nervousness.

You pouted playfully, yet you also nodded in agreement. Both of you slouched, and closed your eyes, eagerly anticipating the new day that lay ahead. Your fantasy with him was finally etched in stone, and nothing could rip it apart.

I think "My Silver Lining" is a perfect song showing the growth and tenacity of Fluffy Sephy and his darling's bond. 💜

#sephiroth ff7 #sephiroth x reader #ff7 sephiroth #sephiroth #fluffy sephiroth #x reader #x reader smut #tw: pregnancy #reader smut #x female reader #fem reader #reader insert #female reader #final fantasy x reader #reader #pregnant reader #domestic headcanons #for those who have none au

[steddieasitgoes]

@steddiemas Day 25: Christmas Day Traditions & Activities

Tags: Pre-Relationship Steddie, Christmas Morning, Christmas Fluff, Supportive Wayne Munson, Eddie Munson Is A Sweetheart,

wc: 1488 | Rating: G

Read on ao3 | ao3 collection

It’s not that Steve likes to be alone on Christmas.

He doesn’t think anyone likes to be alone on Christmas — let alone someone who aspires to be a father to six little nuggets one day.

But he has a hard time taking his friends up on their offers to host him for Christmas. Doesn’t want to feel like a burden or impose on anyone’s traditions.

He’s tried in the past — joining the Hendersons in ’84 and Robin basically held him hostage in ’85, refusing to let him wallow alone in his house like some Grinch (her words not his).

No matter how accommodating the Hendersons and Buckleys were or how many times Dustin and Robin assured him that he wasn’t imposing, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he didn’t belong. The cold weight in his gut and the nagging voice in his head telling him if his parents didn’t want him why would anyone else?

(He should probably go to therapy to get that checked out.)

It’s fine though, because Steve’s curated his own Christmas traditions now.

He wakes up whenever he wants to — usually still early because his body has never adjusted to the fact that it no longer needs to wake up at the ass crack of dawn to train — and makes himself an omelet or two. Then he moves into the living room and opens the gift Robin always leaves behind for him because she refuses to let him open something on Christmas.

After making his “Merry Christmas” calls and assuring Robin and Dustin that he’s fine and no, he doesn’t want to come over, he heats up the homemade casserole Ms. Henderson makes Dustin deliver by bike on the 23rd and settles down on the couch to watch this year’s Christmas Day basketball games.

It’s not much, but it works for Steve.

At least, it did until this year when Eddie threw a literal wrench in his plans by coaxing him into coming over because his car wouldn’t start and he had to pick Wayne up from a last-minute shift at the factory.

Honestly, Steve should have known it was a trap the minute he mentioned Wayne working a Christmas morning shift. Wayne and him aren’t close by any means, but he knows there’s no way Eddie’s Uncle would work on Christmas day and leave him home alone. He actually has good parenting habits, unlike some people in his life.

Still, the phone call came at six in the morning and Steve was too dizzy with sleep to question his motives until he pulled up at the Munsons to find both cars parked in their usual spots.

He doesn’t even have time to make a quick escape because Eddie’s perched on the worn sofa outside watching him.

“Took you long enough,” Eddie teases, sauntering over to Steve.

“From the looks of it you didn’t even need my help,” Steve sasses back as he gets out of the car. “Isn’t that Wayne’s car?”

Eddie glances in the direction Steve points as if he isn’t aware of the pickup truck. “Huh, guess it is. Must have been a dream I was having or something.”

“Or, something. Right,” Steve snorts, shaking his head.

“Well,” Eddie claps his hands together startling Steve. “Since we don’t actually need your help and you’re already here, you should stay for breakfast.”

“That’s okay, Eddie. I don’t—“

“Ah, ah, ah,” Eddie tuts. “You’re not bailing on me now, Stevie. Wayne’s in there whipping up his famous Christmas morning breakfast. You haven’t lived until you’ve tried his French toast casserole.”

Arguing with Eddie is worse than arguing with Dustin, so Steve saves his energy and agrees to stay for breakfast. He apologizes profusely to Wayne for the intrusion, earning a gruff “nonsense boy, you’re always welcome here,” several times before Wayne finally swats him with the spatula and insists he shut up or else.

The casserole is as delicious as Eddie made it out to be. Not that Steve was skeptical of Wayne’s ability to cook. He’s been over for chili nights and eaten Wayne’s perfectly cooked and fresh fish after the fishing trip Eddie also tricked Steve into attending.

With a full belly and Eddie’s demand met, he’s planning on heading out when he spots the mountain of dishes in the small sink. His parents may not have raised him to be kind and thoughtful, but it's the man he’s become so he hikes up the sleeves on his maroon sweater and gets to work cleaning the dishes even though both Wayne and Eddie shout at him that there’s “no chores on Christmas.” When they both offer to help, Steve throws “no chores on Christmas” back in their faces and shoos them out of the kitchen with a smile and lots of gruff laughter. 

He’s almost finished with the washing when the snow starts to fall. Not cute little snowflakes like in the movies. Oh no. Big ass sheets of snow dropping faster and faster as the seconds tick by.

Christ.

“Snowin’ mighty bad out there,” Wayne whistles, coming inside from the smoke break he insisted on taking outside. Kicking off his boots, he walks over to Steve and claps a hand on his shoulder. “‘Fraid you ain’t going anywhere.”

“I mean, it’s not that bad,” Steve says, throwing the dish towel over his other shoulder as he peers out the window. Who is he kidding? There’s no way the beemer is going to make it three feet in this weather let alone the two and a half miles to his house.

“You’ve got to be kidding, Steve!” Eddie shouts, from his spot on the couch. “If I let you leave in this weather and something happens, Henderson and Buckley will literally have my head on a stake. You’re staying and that’s final.”

He turns, expecting to find Wayne ready to object to Eddie’s theatrics but what he finds instead is the gruff man nodding his head in agreement.

“Guess m’staying then.”

Steve’s no stranger to surprises, but he’s downright perplexed when Wayne announces that it’s time to watch the Knicks game and Eddie doesn’t balk or go on some long-winded rant about how sports and Christmas don’t go together. Instead, he watches as Eddie nods and curls up on the sofa while Wayne settles in on the recliner.

“Hold on,” Steve says, waving his hands in the air to get their attention. “You, Eddie Munson, are going to watch basketball without complaining?”

“S’our Christmas tradition,” Wayne says.

“Unfortunately,” Eddie mumbles which earns him a pillow to the face curtesy of Wayne. “Hey!”

Wayne chuckles, shaking his head before shifting his attention back to Steve. “First Christmas I had Eddie, the boy was so upset after openin’ his gifts ‘cause he didn’t have nothin’ for me. Told him not to worry, just wanted him to watch the game with me. S’been a tradition ever since.”

Steve opens his mouth to say something when Eddie chimes in cutting him off.

“If you’re going to call me a hypocrite, save it.” “I wasn’t going to,” Steve says, holding his hands up in surrender. Crossing the room, he takes a seat on the sofa with Eddie, leaving the middle cushion open. “Actually, I was going to say watching the game is my Christmas tradition too.”

“Oh,” Eddie says. “Maybe it could be our tradition now. Wayne, me, you. I mean, I might not know what the hell is going on, but Wayne knows lots of fun stats he loves to share.” “Watch yourself, boy,” Wayne scolds with no bite. “S’you who never shuts up during the game. Always narrating made-up things while they play.”

“You know you love it!” Eddie defends, flipping Wayne off. After he turns his attention back to Steve, “M’sure watching with us will be better than watching alone, right?”

It’s presumptuous is what it is.

The thought of Steve coming over to the Munsons year after year to watch the basketball game. Cheer on teams and criticize plays with Wayne, listen to Eddie’s improv commentary. As if they want him crashing their traditions forever.

But something about the offer warms the usual Christmas day ache in his gut.

The truth is Steve doesn’t feel like a burden when he’s here with Wayne and Steve. He doesn’t feel like an awkward third wheel or like he’s a fly on the wall, listening to inside jokes and not understanding them.

He feels like an equal.

Like he belongs.

And what a wonderful feeling that is.

Maybe he won’t always spend Christmas with Wayne and Eddie and whatever NBA teams are playing, but today he will.

And he’s not going to deny himself this tradition next year or the year after that or any year Eddie and Wayne are eager to host him.

“Yeah, Eds,” Steve says pulling himself from his reprieve. “This is much better than watching the game alone.”

#steddiemas #steddie #steddie fic #steddie fluff #steddie christmas #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #eddie munson fic #stranger things #stranger things fic #dani writes