#God I live having anxiety it's very fun

[the-mehlwurm]

if im panicking because I heard somethibg in our apartment (maybe) am I allowed to wake up my sister and her boyfriend or is tgat weird

[retrosabers]

𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐦𝐞, 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

FICMAS DAY 3: GIFT-GIVING

bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary: as bucky’s secret santa, you’re determined to give him the best christmas present he’s ever received.

contains: grumpy buck fluff, some angst, idiots who are crushing hard, swearing

word count: 2.4k

a/n: this is a long one i’m apologizing in advance

i am SO SORRY for crickets in the ficmas department the past week, i hit a big brick wall with this and i’ve been so all over the place with my own holiday planning and such that i ended up having to cut the masterlist in half because i knew i couldn’t get it all done. i’m very sorry to anyone who was looking forward to what got scrapped, but i couldn’t bring myself to rush through writing and put out something i don’t believe it my best work.

also, do people even want avengers fix it fics anymore?? i debated between the “everything is fine the team lives at the compound together” vibe and setting this post tfatws, but ultimately decided the former was easier to write. and i think it worked in my favor because this turned out really cute :)

!! divider by @strangergraphics !!

FICMAS MASTERLIST

your heart feels like it’s going to burst out of your chest.

who’s idea was this again? wanda? tony? steve? it didn’t matter anymore. all that mattered right now was that you didn’t pass out in the elevator. a feat that was becoming more and more difficult the closer you got to your destination.

a secret santa is supposed to bring you joy, not near paralyzing anxiety.

at first, you were 100% on board with participating in a gift exchange. as much as you wanted to shower all of your teammates with presents galore, not everyone shared the same sentiment, and thus the idea of a secret santa was proposed.

excitement courses through your veins as you reach your hand into the cheap santa hat tony grabbed from god knows where in storage, with little pieces of paper containing the names of your fellow avengers. you decided to wait until you were back in the privacy of your room to open it up, afraid of any wandering eyes taking a peak. the last thing you wanted was the element of surprise to be stripped away. it was half the fun after all.

as sam pulls the last name, you quietly excuse yourself and all but rush upstairs, too eager to get in the holiday spirit and brainstorm. as soon as the door shuts behind you, you hurriedly reveal the contents of the paper.

if it’s natasha, i can get her a pair of ballet slippers. she’s been mentioning how she wants to start dancing again.

what about bruce? maybe a journal for all his ideas? he always seems to be losing sticky notes in the lab.

a million different ideas swirl around in your head, reminding you just how much joy this time of year brings. to you, there was nothing better than seeing the gleeful looks on people’s faces when they opened their gifts. the corners of your mouth turn up at the memory of your first christmas with the team. how shy and reluctant you were, afraid of going overboard. now, a few years later, you’re completely unabashed in showing just how much you care about them.

your bright smile morphs into a deep frown as you unfold the paper.

bucky barnes.

quite possibly the most difficult person you could’ve chosen.

to be clear, there’s nothing wrong with bucky. he may be a bit grumpy and standoffish, but it’s with good reason and you know it. that also doesn’t change the fact that he’s going to be impossible to try and shop for.

what do you get for the man who seemingly despises anything the modern world has to offer? the same man who you’re 99% sure hates your guts. come to think of it, how did you even pull him? he most definitely wasn’t downstairs 20 minutes ago when everyone scribbled down their names and tossed them in tony’s direction.

it was irrelevant now. you were stuck being his secret santa, and you’d be damned if you didn’t give james buchanan barnes the best christmas gift he’s ever gotten in his century-long lifetime.

the two weeks it took to come up with an idea sure felt like a century. if it wasn’t for the concerning amount of snooping you did, you’d probably be showing up empty handed. thankfully, at almost 1 in the morning on a random tuesday, a lightbulb went off in your brain. you scrambled bright and early the next day to go shopping, and by some lucky form of divine intervention, you acquired the perfect gift.

flash forward to now, and you’re carrying an insanely large box up to bucky’s room. in a blatant stray from what the rest of the team was doing, you decided to give him his present one on one, secluded from everyone else. partly because you were afraid of public embarrassment if he hated it, and partly because you knew bucky wasn’t very fond of being put on display.

you hope he’ll at least be grateful for that.

when the elevator finally chimes, signaling you’ve arrived at the dormitory floor, the box nearly slips from your grasp. not just from how heavy it was, but from the nervous sweat coating your palms.

the hallway is quiet enough to hear a pin drop, save for the faint sound of christmas music playing over the speakers. with careful, calculated steps, you make your way down the length of the corridor, dragging your feet the closer you get to bucky’s room. there’s a small part of you that hopes he’s downstairs in the gym, the kitchen, the backyard, anywhere but here. dropping and dashing wasn’t what you had in mind, but the anxious thumping of your heart was becoming unbearable. you know it will only amplify tenfold if you’re forced to stare into those steel blue eyes of his. the thought alone sends a chill down your spine.

you freeze in place when you hear the sound of a door knob clicking open.

please be wanda’s room, please be wanda’s room.

in front of you, the very last door on the left creaks open, revealing the tall and brooding super soldier whose company you were aiming to avoid.

it’s easy to forget how handsome bucky barnes is when he normally does nothing but grimace in your direction.

you still weren’t used to his new haircut, but it was clear he felt significantly more confident with it. is that a hint of aftershave, or cologne? whatever it was, the scent fit him perfectly; cedarwood with a hint of spice. the green henley he wears fits snugly against his broad frame, emphasizing all the muscles you’ve been caught staring at on more than one occasion. for once, he’s not wearing a scowl, though that changes when he catches sight of you.

surely you must look strange, standing dumbfounded in the middle of the hall with a box covered in santa-printed wrapping paper and a big bow that you can barely hold. right now the floor opening up and swallowing you whole was at the top of your wish list. and st. nick better make it quick.

bucky’s expression shifts from one of disdain to curiosity as he quirks a brow wordlessly. your own knit together in frustration, knowing you now had no choice but to do this exchange face to face.

“need any help?” he questions monotonously. as much as you want to be prideful and reject it, your arms feel like they’re going to fall off any second. he seems to catch your drift despite a verbal response, because in the blink of an eye he’s striding towards you, sweeping the gift from your arms and into his own with ease. you try not to gape at the way his biceps strain against fabric.

you stutter out a “thanks,” as you straighten out your sweater. bucky grunts in return and eyes the package in his hands cautiously. you’re half expecting him to shake it like a child when you catch the tiniest twitch of his upper lip.

it’s the closest thing to a smile he’s ever shown in your presence. something that gives you the courage to actually form a sentence instead of continuing to gawk at him.

here goes nothing.

“this is for you, actually,” you manage to shakily breathe out. bucky halts his observations, a glimmer of surprise briefly dancing across his face.

a beat of silence passes between you. “don’t remember asking for anything," he finally says. it’s still laced with his typical dry sarcasm, but there’s a legitimate amusement in his tone that can’t be missed.

you narrow your eyes at him playfully, feeling a little bit more at ease now that he didn’t completely rebuff you.

“i’m your secret santa, smartass,” you jab with your hands on your hips.

for the first time ever, bucky smirks at you.

“don’t recall asking for that either.”

you throw your hands up in defense, offering him a surprisingly nonchalant shrug. “don’t blame me, i’m pretty sure steve was the one who put your name in.”

“punk,” the man grumbles. he shakes his head, attention turning back to the present in hand once more.

despite his apparent annoyance, you can’t seem to stop yourself from continuing on.

“i know you’re supposed to do this kind of thing with everyone around,” you start off shaky, afraid of upsetting him any more than you may already have. his gaze immediately falls to you upon hearing your voice.

“i also know you’re not a big fan of being the center of attention,” you continue, shoving your hands into the pockets of your jeans. “figured you’d like this better if it was in private.”

bucky’s features soften. his jaw unclenched, his eyes not so narrow and judgmental. he looks relieved, flattered; a myriad of things you can’t name or place.

“i appreciate that,” he admits, suddenly shy and impish. for a second, he completely forgets about the gift you brought. the simple fact that you were kind enough to consider his feelings, despite how cold he could be to you, makes his heart skip a beat.

you simply nod your head in reply, teetering back and forth on your feet awkwardly trying to decipher your next move.

“you don’t have to open that right now you know.”

he sets the box down on the floor next to his door. “kinda defeats the purpose don’t you think?”

you shrug. “whatever you’re comfortable with. doesn’t matter what you’re “supposed to do.””

why did you care so much about his comfort level? he hardly showed any concern for yours. the notion consumes his thoughts, prohibiting him from offering anything except a nod of acknowledgement.

that awkward silence comes once again, signaling maybe you’ve overstayed your welcome, or that the moment of peace is over. you check your watch in hopes that father time was ending this exchange for you.

just your luck, he’s right on schedule.

“i uh, better get downstairs,” you announce, pointing your thumb in the direction of the elevator. “don’t wanna miss thor forcing everyone to do christmas karaoke.”

a noise akin to laughter snorts out of bucky’s nose, evoking a delightful warmth in your chest. it was different than all the other times you’ve been flustered in the presence of the super soldier. this was less about intimidation and more about…camaraderie. now wondering if maybe he doesn’t hate you as much as you thought.

it’s exactly what you need to reignite your holiday cheer and shed any remaining worries.

before you can second guess, you turn on your heels, closing the gap between your bodies. wrapping a hand around his arm, his metal arm, and offering a gentle caress, the sincerity in your words is clear as day.

“merry christmas buck.”

your touch burns straight through vibranium all the way to his chest. across his entire body, igniting every cell ablaze. a fire consuming him in ways unimaginable.

and yet. he enjoyed the burn.

as you pull away, much to his dismay, the tips of his fingers brush against the inside of your wrist. goosebumps errupt on your skin, from the cool metal, or that fact that bucky was so pretty this close, only time would tell.

“you too,” he murmurs with a faint grin. the soft crinkles by his eyes are likely going to be the subject of your daydreams for the next week.

you flash him a smile over your shoulder before turning down the hall and averting his gaze, not wanting him to see just how much you were blushing.

while unbeknownst to you, bucky was now a very bright shade of red.

he waits until he can hear the elevator doors close before slipping back into his room and very carefully unwrapping the box. there’s a nervousness in his stomach that’s unfamiliar, but not unpleasant. as the bare brown packaging becomes exposed, he begins ripping back the numerous layers of packing tape. you really took your time on this, he thinks to himself.

that funny feeling only amplifies when he sees the contents of the box.

a record player, a very expensive looking one at that, sits inside with another three wrapped items that he concludes are vinyls, judging from their flatness. on top of it all, there was a small note shrouded in luxe stationary. bucky’s heart stutters when he sees his name scribbled delicately in your handwriting.

his fingers falter briefly before he digs into the envelope.

i know this isn’t like the ones from the 40s, but it’s the closest thing i could find. also got a few of your favorite records, and one i think you’ll like too. don’t forget i have quite a collection of my own in case you ever want to try something new.

merry christmas ♡

bucky unceremoniously plops down on the edge of his bed. the normally stiff feeling mattress now mirrored a sea of clouds and feathers. he’d gladly sink into the abyss of softness, if it meant pumping the brakes on his thundering heartbeat.

from the moment he met you, bucky knew he was in trouble.

you had an aura about you that was magnetic, always drawing people in and bathing them in your light. your unconditional kindness and consideration, hell, even your mere presence in a room seemed to liven it up entirely. it was a hypnotizing, almost dangerous thing for the man, and if there was one thing he knew how to do, it was to push people away. for their sake, and his. bucky was certain that once he started keeping his distance, that you’d eventually give up in trying to crack his tough outer shell, or that the silly feelings he had would disappear.

but right now, as he’s staring at your handwriting and rubbing his thumb repeatedly over that little heart, he knows it was all in vain.

later that night, he stares up at the ceiling, listening to the familiar croon of it’s been a long, long time wafting from his present. he tries to focus on the beauty of the song, or the lights he can see from his window twinkling out on the lawn, but it’s nearly impossible. you’re the subject of all his thoughts. have been since the moment he saw you standing out in the hall. from the scent of your perfume to the little intricacies of your penmanship. the thing that’s plaguing him the most, however, is your hand on his arm.

bucky’s real arm had been gone for over half a century, having stopped experiencing phantom limb syndrome ages ago. yet somehow he felt it there, clear as day. the same tactile sensations on his flesh, right arm, in the metal prosthetic of his left. an electric shock that he’s never recognized before, and that he wouldn’t be opposed to feeling again.

tomorrow, he plans to thank steve for mischievously adding his name into the lottery.

and to ask you about your record collection.

thanks for reading! <3

tag list: @alastor-simp @j4desblurbs @pandapetals

!! if you would like to be tagged in the rest of the ficmas blurbs, please send me an inbox message or leave a comment !!

[alexiroflife]

"phobia"

i literally can't stop writing for this mf, flufffff :(

satoru gojo x reader

Synopsis: you are an incredibly talented sorcerer, but your deadly fear of spiders tends to interfere with your daily life every now and then. it doesn't help when you happen to encounter a curse that looks just like one

to sum it up: satoru is always there for you to kill a spider when you need him to

WC: 2,764

Warning(s): arachnophobia, icky spiders

The burden of a Jujutsu Sorcerer was taxing beyond comprehension, which of course was why it paid so well.

Sorcerers were expected to give their lives each day within the battlefield, watching as their comrades and the people they were expected to protect die left and right at the hands of the morbid amalgamations of human beings’ worst possible fears, anxieties, doubts, and other nasty negative emotions.

To be a sorcerer was to sacrifice oneself, to accept death before it inevitably took its toll on those around you, and then eventually, on you yourself. This was why sorcerers were expected and trained to be strong, fierce, and with perhaps a few screws loose in their heads to allow them to plow full force into danger with no fears and no regrets. 

Sorcerers were meant to be fearless.

And in many ways, you truly were. You were a first grade sorcerer, more than capable of handling yourself in the face of adversity. You were proficient, quick on your feet, merciless when you had to be, and above all, you were confident in your abilities, which was just as important of a trait to have as a sorcerer as courageousness. 

You were a proud woman, content that you could put your skills to good use by aiding those who were weak and helpless, by saving as many lives as you could alongside your colleagues at Jujutsu Tech. 

You were a damn good sorcerer too, only, there remained a small matter that often seemed to creep up on you at the worst of times. Something you had tried desperately to overcome through years of training, therapy, private meetings with Yaga, and more. Something that had been clinging to you since the very moment you were born, and something you were still somehow unable to completely escape well into your twenty-sixth year of life. 

And that was your deathly fear of spiders.

You admitted that it was silly, that to have made it this far within the world of sorcery after having encountered more horrors than most people could imagine, a little fear of spiders was completely absurd. You knew it didn’t make any sense, that this fear of yours was beneath you, but that didn’t stop you from shrieking horribly and seeking shelter each time you saw a spider crawling along the wall of your apartment. 

You knew that you should have had more patience with yourself, for there was no way of conquering a fear if you refused to acknowledge it as valid, but come on. You were a grade 1 sorcerer for god’s sake, a professor at Jujutsu High teaching students to cast their fears aside to focus their emotions and energies into properly honing in on their techniques, yet you still couldn’t get over being squeamish any time you saw those little demons hurdling their way over the earth. 

In your mind, they were far worse than curses, a source of terror that must have been executed. 

Nevertheless, you kept your fears to yourself for the sake of your occupation and reputation. The only person who knew anything about this vulnerability of yours was your boyfriend, Satoru, and even he found it funny at times to tease you about such a small thing in a world plagued by monsters and curse-users. He had seen you slice open a curse all the way down the middle of its body with a blank face, blood spattering in all directions, but spiders were what got you. 

While he poked fun, he still harbored an understanding that beneath the hardened exterior sorcerers were forced to put up, you were all born of flesh and blood just as any other living being on this planet. 

Satoru was quick to rush to your apartment whenever you called him screaming, standing atop your bed and jumping up and down on your cushions in fear upon catching sight of one of those nasty things. He would throw your door open, catch you in your rather comical position, and hold back a fit of laughter upon seeing you.

“SATORU, SHUT UP AND JUST KILL IT! PLEASE!”

“Calm down, pretty, it’s not gonna hurt you,” he would say, a sickening smirk gracing his gorgeous features. “You’ve faced much worse things than this.”

“I don’t care!” you’d sob. “Just kill it please!”

And once he was finished picking on you, he’d hurry to your aid, approaching the bug in the corner and flicking his finger, rendering the creature dead. 

Then afterwards, he’d always hold out his arms for you to jump down into them once you determined it was safe, cooing into your ear as you threw your arms and legs around him, his hand holding your head. 

“You were so brave, baby. Good job, you got through it.”

It was humbling, to say the least, for the strongest to witness you in such a weak state, but despite Satoru’s teasing, he still took you very seriously. He didn’t diminish your strengths or your worths because of a simple fear. Hell, he had fears that he had buried deep within his gut that only you could drag out of him, and that was okay. Satoru poked fun, but he never judged his precious girl for feeling. 

After all, he enjoyed the fact that you were comfortable enough to let him see you in such a light after long days of having to be strong, just like him. He liked that he could help you with this one thing, even if it meant teleporting into your room at two in the morning on a work day. As long as he was taking care of you, he didn’t care less what you needed. When you needed him, he would be at your aid within a heartbeat. 

And in this moment, you really, really did need him.

Yaga had sent you on a quick solo mission to eradicate a few low grade curses at a nearby summer camp facility while most of the other sorcerers were busy with training or on leave for other missions. It was a quick and easy task for you, granted that your grade was much higher than those of the curses you would be exorcizing.

Only, what Yaga failed to inform you, and likely did not know or care about, was that one of these particular curses was unlike the rest. While you easily winded through the three other creatures, the very last one at the end of the corridor caught you by surprise. 

Your face was hardened as you whipped your head around, sensing the presence of the last curse within the space. Once your eyes landed on the source of the cursed energy, however, your face dropped and your eyes shrank in terror.

There before you cowered a three foot tall dark purple curse which took an arachnoid shape, with an array of beady red eyes atop its head and eight hair legs digging into the wood of the floorboards. Your heart dropped and your mouth ran dry, your body freezing in its tracks. You couldn’t move, you couldn’t think, you couldn’t do anything. Of all the first grade curses you had come across in your lifetime, this grade 3 creature would be the very first thing that stood between you and seeing the light of day.

The curse hissed, chattering its chelicerae-like mouth as its legs tapped restlessly against the floor, sending a horrid shiver up your spine. You were stronger than this, braver than this, you knew you were, but your legs had gone to jelly and your heart was pounding in your ears. Perhaps if you had been given a warning ahead of time. you would have been able to approach this threat differently, but instead, much to your shame, you took off in the opposite direction once your legs willed you to move. 

You could hear it crawling after you down the hall, screeching out nonsensical sounds as it rounded the corner to follow you. You were quick to duck into the first room you saw, slamming the door shut behind you and pressing your back against the surface. You searched the room in a panic, which you discovered to be a dorm, and ran to take cover in a closet in the corner.

You trembled, sinking down to the bottom of the platform as heavy, panicked breaths wracked your body. This was pathetic. This was humiliating. You were better than this, but god, this fear, those damned spiders would always get the best of you, despite how hard you tried to help it. 

You were trembling, squeezing your eyes shut as whimpers spilled from your quivering lips. That thing was so big, bigger than any spider you had encountered, and while you understood it was a curse, it looked far too real. 

You didn’t know what to do. You had to finish this mission, and the principal wouldn’t accept a sorry excuse about you being too afraid to exorcize a curse because it looked like a spider for an answer as to why you would come running back to the school. It sounded ridiculous! Especially for someone with your skill. 

You could hear the creature running up and down the halls erratically, its gross legs clicking against the walls. You pressed your lips together tightly, wrapping your arms around yourself. You wanted this to stop.

Hesitantly, you reached into the pocket of your uniform to shakily pull out your phone. You breathed out heavily, on the verge of a panic attack, trembling fingers dialing your boyfriend’s number with his. You lifted the phone to your ear and listened to it ring.

Then it clicked.

“Hello? Baby?” Satoru’s comforting voice spoke into the phone, a sigh of relief escaping you. “What’s up? You done with that little mission yet?”

“S-Satoru?” you whispered, voice trembling harshly. Immediately, the sorcerer on the other line knew something was off.

“(Y/n)? What’s wrong?” his tone dropped with urgency. “What happened? Are you okay?”

You pursed your lips again, muffling a pathetic sob that was prepared to break past your mouth. You scrunched your eyes closed, the confined space doing very little to ease your nerves. Satoru could only hear the choked whines that left you, and he was on his feet, captured with instant worry. 

“Baby, talk to me. I need to know you’re okay. Tell me what happened. Where are you?”

“T-The…” you stammered, struggling to get it out.

“Deep breaths, pretty. Breathe.”

You gulped, knocking your head back against the wood, taking a moment to release a few sharp breaths. “The camp,” you managed to whimper. 

“You’re still there?” he asked, almost incredulously. “Did something happen? Were the curses higher grades than you were told? I’m on my way right now.”

“No, i-it’s,” you shook, pressing your phone to your forehead. “It’s- a s-spider…”

There was a pause as Satoru processed what you were saying. “A spider?” he repeated. “What do you mean?”

“The last curse,” you exhaled. “It’s a spider, Toru, it looks like a damn big ass spider,” you rambled. “I’m so scared, I'm sorry, please come help me.”

“Oh, baby,” he sighed. “I’m coming, don’t worry. Stay where you are, I’ll find you.”

You nodded rapidly, scrunching your face as tears pricked your eyes. “M-kay.”

You tucked your phone away and within exactly two seconds, you heard a whooshing sound from outside, followed by the screech of the curse. You heard its legs clatter along the walls once more before another tormented, animalistic cry, and then there was nothing. 

You waited silently, hugging your knees to your chest as footsteps ascended. “(Y/n)?!” you heard Satoru’s voice through the walls, and your shoulders slumped with alleviation. You heard the door to the room open and you slowly reached up to the closet door handle, creaking it open to peer outside.

There, you saw your boyfriend standing in the doorway, gaze finally landing on you beneath his blindfold. The moment he saw you, he dropped his arms, pained by the sight of you curled up in hiding out of fear. “(Y/n),” his gentle voice breathed out as he stepped further into the room, extending his arms in that same manner he always did when comforting you.

The second you saw the motion, you were breaking. The reality of your weakness came crashing down on you, and your lips wobbled as you climbed out of the closet and fell into his warm embrace. You shook against him, embarrassed, petrified. You were the partner of the strongest sorcerer of the modern age, and this was what you were. Powerless at the will of a low grade curse.

“It’s alright, baby, I’m here. Please don’t cry, pretty. It’s okay, I got you,” he murmured against your temple, pressing his soft lips to it then to the crown of your head as you buried your face in his chest. 

“Satoru,” you sniffled into him, clinging to the fabric of his black suit as he wrapped you into his warmth.

“Shh, it’s okay. It’s okay.” 

“I-Is it gone?”

“Yeah, baby. I got rid of it. It’s all gone, don’t worry,” he whispered. He hated seeing you like this. Normally when you faced spiders, the interaction was far more lighthearted. You would screech, sure, but you had always recovered fairly quickly after he had killed one. Granted, you had never encountered a spider as big as the one that you just saw, but Satoru was aching upon  witnessing how rattled you were by this thing. “You got the rest of them, baby. You did so good, you know that? My strong girl.”

He was so loving with his praise as he eased you down from your high, rubbing your hair and pressing his palm to your waist, letting you know that you were safe with him. 

“M’sorry,” you mumbled into him and he looked down, pulling away slightly to hear you better and to get a look at your face. He tilted your chin up so that you could look at him, your eyes glossy and your brows pinched.

“What are you sorry for, pretty?” he asked you genuinely, heart clenching as he smoothed his thumb over your flushed cheek. 

“Cause,” you sniffed again. “I should’ve been able to handle this. It’s so stupid. I dragged you here to get rid of something so small.”

“Hey,” he said with firm tenderness, holding your cheek so that your eyes stayed on his. “Don’t do that.”

“B-But, I should be able to-”

“Stop. I won’t listen to you beat on yourself for being afraid,” he shook his head. “You’re so strong, (Y/n). You always have been, but we all have our weaknesses and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Says you,” you muttered, guilt catching your eyes. “You’re the strongest.”

“And you know better than anyone that that’s just a title,” Satoru said earnestly. “Yes there’s truth to it, but none of that takes away from the things that keep me up at night. Just like your grade doesn’t take away your fears.”

He traced the curve of your jaw softly, lifting his free hand to remove his blindfold and tuck it into his pocket. You watched as his white hair fell over his face and his sapphire eyes washed over you, displaying his loving, concerned, understanding gaze. 

“But that doesn’t mean we’re not strong. It’s okay to be scared as long as you know I’m here to help you, and as long as I know you’re here to help me.”

You could feel a lump building in your throat as he gazed at you and he curled his brows, jutting out his bottom lip slightly. 

“Don’t look at me like that, princess, you’ll make me cry,” he said, catching your face in both of his large palms as your hands moved to delicately hold his wrists. “C’mere, baby,” he whispered, drawing your forehead to his lips. The sorcerer then kissed the bridge of your nose and the edge of your brow before letting you fall back into him, wrapping your arms tightly around his torso as he held you close.

You melted into him and closed your eyes. “Love you, Satoru,” you murmured into him.

He kissed your head again, resting his cheek atop you. “I love you, too, (Y/n). Let’s get you home and all cleaned up, yeah?”

You nodded against him, thankful to the universe that the man you loved made being vulnerable feel like a gentle, welcoming, consuming form of unconditional love. 

But, fuck, did you hate spiders.

[yandere-sins]

I don't know if you write something like this, but what about reader being Hades lover instead of Persephone like it's supposed to be? I imagine reader is some normal human on our world learning about Greeks Gods but suddenly got isekai'd into the Mythology haha. Imagine the confusion and flabbergasted reader felt by all of this.

Reader try to find a way back to human world but ended up in the forest where all of this started. Trying to avoid Persephone fate of being Hades's lover that eating the underworld food, but of course, Hades wants the reader to eat the food. After all Hades got all the time and reader is starving.

I would love the tension, back and forth of Hades temptation and reader insistent. Thanks!

Okay but what if I take your idea, and I give it a tiny plot twist? Make it just a little bit more horrifying? Okay, okay hear me out, look...

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

Being a human had never been so frustrating.

It was one thing to manage the daily challenges of adulthood, of living on your own and taking care of yourself. Things got tough, and they got fun again; sunrises made you smile, and losing a beloved restaurant to a global issue made your heart somber. For the longest time, you believed having a shitty day at work and then having to go home in the rain because you forgot your umbrella was the worst your life would ever get.

But you were wrong. Very wrong.

Because where there was no life, that's where things became messed up.

"One bite," he pleaded. With the pomegranate juices running down his spindly fingers, the red was almost disturbingly blood-like against the faded color of his skin. "Please. I know you are so hungry."

Pouting your lips, you shook your head, turning and marching onwards through the dark forest of lush yet colorless greenery. It was just a park, Hades had explained, but every time you thought you'd break through the thicket, it expanded further, endlessly like a maze of trees and bushes.

You two had kept up this dance of rejection and chase for a while now, days to be exact. And you were unsure if he knew, but you were hanging on to the last threads of sanity. You felt your knees buckle with resistance every time you rejected yet another offer of fresh food and sweet nectar, your stomach screaming in aghast horror as you kept denying freshly picked fruits and beautifully arranged plates that could sate your hunger. And your head had become so dizzy from the stress and anxiety that you began feeling as if your life was being drained right out of you to feed this place instead.  

The Underworld. Resting place of souls.

Occasionally, you had heard about occult stuff like fairy rings or portals to another world. You never thought that accidentally falling into a river would end with you being transported right into the realm of the afterlife! You had cursed at your feet for being so clumsy and easily losing their balance, but at this point, you had no strength left other than to be thankful they still carried you around. You weren't dead yet, but you didn't think you were very much alive either.

"I need to find a way out..." you mumbled to yourself, your mouth feeling dry and your head buzzing with incoherent thoughts. Only determination had gotten you up after passing out so many times. Only knowing you came here somehow, so you must have been able to get back somehow, kept you going. Things were tough, but you were tougher, right?

"There is none," the god of the Underworld mumbled, a tinge of regret breaking through his voice. "You've been here too long. There is no way back from here."

You breathed out, coming to a halt, as did his ghostly appearance behind you. It was colder in his proximity, yet he stayed close as if to comfort you. His body was cloaked in black swivels, yet his face was almost too handsome to look at directly. His hands were visibly gnarly like those of skeletons, yet you knew his touch was soft and his palms big and reliable, able to catch you before you hit your head on the floor from fainting. His hair fell in waves of ebony beauty, and his crown was so intricately woven into it that it made him look humble and whimsical rather than fearsome and ruthless like the stories made him out to be.

There was nothing about him to hate or make you truly distrustful of him. Yet, you still wished he would leave you, just like in the beginning, when he could only stay for a limited time to watch you struggle before returning to his duties. But his time by your side had gradually increased, and perhaps that was the feeling of dread you've been experiencing for a while now.

"Don't you have anywhere else to be?" you asked, too exhausted to sound snarky.

"I cannot leave you like this. It's not your time yet."

"Then let me go! Lead me out of here!"

In a spurt of a moment, you regained enough strength to spin around, yelling at him angrily. You regretted raising your voice as you looked into the flash of hurt crossing his features before the beautiful grimace turned serious again.

"I can't," he said firmly, holding out the pomegranate again. Its fragrance enticed your nose, saliva collecting in your mouth as it promised to be an especially juicy one. "There is nowhere I could lead you but back to the palace. But you wouldn't make the journey unless you eat and drink. You're just human, after all."

It must have been easy for a god to point out your biggest flaw of them all: you were just human.

"Can I go home if I go back to the palace?" you asked, eyeing the pomegranate with disdain even though your teeth demanded to sink into its flesh, chew apart the seeds, and satiate your hunger.

"No," Hades shook his head. "But you could find peace there. Stop the endless roaming of the gardens for an exit that doesn't exist at this point in time."

"You're lying," you concluded finally. "You want me to eat the pomegranate so you can claim my soul for the Underworld. You're telling me there is no exit, but there is, you just don't want me to find it."

Your accusations left a mark on Hades, the brilliance of his eyes dulling as he heaved a deep sigh, letting his head hang before shaking it slowly. "I'm not lying. I'd never lie to you. I have enough souls waiting for me to give them a place here. I don't need to kidnap humans that Thanatos doesn't have on his list. It was an accident. A fatal one at that, but your stubbornness made it irreversible."

"So it's my fault, eh?" you tried to argue, but there was no bite left in your voice. Raising your hand, you dug your finger into the soft flesh of the pomegranate, felt the fruit yielding to your touch without resistance. Hades closed in, eager for you to finally accept his offering.

"You know what they say about Persephone and the pomegranate. How you trapped her, how you forced her to stay here. Tales of you don't make you look so good."

Without looking up, you could only imagine the anger or frustration that must have played on Hades' expression, but he surprised you when he picked up your hand, raised it to his lips, and slipped your pomegranate-stained finger into his mouth. You watched in horrifying fascination as the god licked off the stain on your skin with relish, the brilliance returning to his eyes as you met his gaze, confident, unwavering.

"People have long made up stories about us, but my wife has never been unhappy with me. And my pomegranates are truly delicious, I only wish for you to taste it. I wouldn't lie to you about these things. I promise I will never lie to you. It's not my nature to begin with, and I'm trying to make things better for you, not harder."

You felt the tears well up in your eyes at the sincere words of such an otherworldly creature—one you only believed to be a story that people believed in religiously. You never thought the gods could be real, much less kind and compassionate. But when you popped the first pomegranate seed into your mouth, your whole body collapsing and Hades catching you with one arm, lifting you up to his height with ease, you realized he had been truthful.

The fruit tasted tart but was absolutely delectable. It had a different kind of sweetness than the ones you had eaten on earth, and tears streamed down your face as you scooped a handful of it, greedily stuffing it into your mouth with no regard for its juices. Hades didn't seem to mind either, holding you seated on one arm, with the fruit halves in his other, the pomegranate bigger than what you were used to, yet still small in his hands even when cut open.

You cried and ate, your body rejuvenating yet also releasing all the tension and fear you had clung to. Your vision was blurry with tears, your nose stuffed, and your head so pleased with the taste of pomegranate on your tongue that it didn't think of anything else. You didn't even register that Hades turned around, strutting back towards the dark, looming palace behind the forest that was the gardens stretching out before it. He was in no hurry, yet it took him barely the blink of an eye to return to where you had first woken up.

By the time he reached the palace doors, you were fast asleep with a belly full of pomegranate, and your thoughts turned into pleasant dreams. The shadows of his body were licking at you, caressing you gently and touching you much more comfortingly than his cold hands could. Even so, he never let go of you, content with you on his arm, resting against his shoulder as if he had taken any worries from you, just like he wished to.

"I see you have received my gift."

"My Queen? You are back early."

"I have not returned yet from my duties; I merely wanted to visit my husband and bring him a gift."

Stepping down a few steps to meet Hades on his way to the palace, Persephone smiled at him warmly, cupping his cheek, which he couldn't help but melt into. She ran her thumb across his cheekbone lovingly a few times before her hand slipped from him to your head, brushing back your hair gently and revealing your face to her.

"The gods above are stirring with excitement for their special humans. Apollo has just collected an extraordinary one for himself. I know you care so little for these trends, but knowing you wait down here for me, alone and so lost in your work, you don't see the seasons pass until I return—it breaks my heart. I thought it would cheer you up to have something so precious to pass the time. You can do as you please with them, treat them as you like. They are yours to own."

"You shouldn't have. They are human, Persephone. Being in the Underworld will cause them nothing but suffering."

"Well," she huffed, agitated by her husband's chiding. They have an eternity to get used to it, just like I did. They will be fine. You can teach them to like it and show them how beautiful this realm can be if they behave themselves. Besides, the pomegranate tree bloomed the moment they came here; it must have been a sign."

Passing by her husband on the way out, she winked at him, and he knew fully well that it had not been a coincidence. Neither that you fell into the Underworld years too early, nor that the tree sprouted fruits the second you arrived. Looking down at you, he watched you furrow your brows as Persephone's warm touch vanished, and you nuzzled your head further into his shadows, trying to find just a bit of the same comfort with him that she could give you.

You truly were lovely. So small, so impossibly perfect. Precious, she called you, but of course you were since his wife knew him well. The moment Hades laid eyes on you, he knew he couldn't bear letting you go and wait until you'd inevitably return to his side as the course of life took its sweet time to reunite you two. And thanks to Persephone, he never even had to lie to you to make you eat the pomegranate on your own and so wholly, he would never have to part ways with you again.

"It is a wonderful gift, thank you," Hades admitted. Persephone smiled, laughing heartily as she made her way back to the surface, passing through the park that stretched out in front of her with ease as it let her pass towards the exit. It was her garden, after all. But even as the two separated temporarily, Hades could hear her say, "I can't wait to get to know them when I return, too."

And he couldn't wait to introduce the now two most beloved parts of his existence, either.

[mis-calculated]

Welcome to Mental Breakdown March how may I help you today?

[greenunoreversecard]

HEYYEYHEY CAN I REQUEST LLOYD (ninjago) HEADCANONS PLEASEEEE (ty :3)

A/N: Ofc!I'll do general character ones, as well as x reader ones :) hope ye likey likey:pp

Lloyd, The Greenest and Geekest mf.

General character headcanons:

Half Japanese half Chinese

His hair is box blonde dye and you cannot change my mind.

Left handed

Severely dyslexic and hands off all scroll reading and just reading oriented tasks to kai.

Def gen z vibes. Like, the others give off more inbetween z and millenial, so they dont always get his humor. And sometimes he uses that to his advantage and "Speaks in code" (uses as much slang as possible)

Has LED lights in his room set to forest green.

Has given himself a smiley face tattoo.

Cried over a dead goose once.

OK, just to preface i see cole as a stoner of Sorts and uses the excuse "it gets me closer to my element"

With that in mind cole let lloyd try it and now sometimes when he is told to unwind, of feels like he needs to take a chill pill he and Cole spark up

in the beginning of his leader ship role, he used to Say;"kick ass and take names" and if things went wrong he had the fuck it we ball mindset, but got better with time. There are still times they wing it, though.

if he isnt in his gi he almost exclusively wears his pajamas (aka a Hoodie, tshirt and sweats)

Vv tired, and now has a raging addiction to energy drinks due to his lack of Sleep.

He used to eat worms as a kid bc he Thought he it was evil.

Has a eyebrow piercing, and wants a tongue piercing.

Wears "reading" glasses, that he should technically wear all the time because he can't see up close and has a astigmatism,, but he says yolo. Zane then make him contacts after he almost ran into a moving blade and got his head severed.

Adhd and OCD, as well as the normal line up (anxiety, depression, cptsd)

Lloyd in a relationship:

Hes very distant in the beginning, it'll take time to warm up to you.

He tends to be orage cat vibes.

On the cat trend, he gets close for a bit Before becoming distant. Going through waves of affection, kinda.

He hasn't had like, any good relationships in his life so he tries to "protect" himself when he feels he gets to close to you, and so he pulls away.

He does the fuckboy face when your sad bc it makes you laugh, as well as That weird dice roll

He actually does the face/dice roll combo whenever he Sees you as he walks over, it's an inside joke now

primary giving love language: acts of service and quality time

Primary receiving love language: gifts and words of affirmation. But physical touch is also high up there.

Also, not expensive gifts. He hates those. Give him a stick you saw on a walk that made you think of him. He'll cherish it forever. And maybe cry.

He will cry.

will make noises at you and expects a noise in response or he'll be sad.

Also randomly bites you. He's a nommer

also sends you memes throughout the day.

As well as random pictures with the caption;"BABY LOK THIS IS S. US IF WE WHERE *insert whatever item here*

Called you babe, baby, love, shitface, asshole.

Expect kind and loving gentle bullying.

Doesnt know how to express his emotions to just expect him to come up to you, lightly shake your shoulders and aggressively say;"I love you bitch.i ain't Evea gon stop lovin you. Bitchhhhhhh" (vine reference)

Sends you .5 of everyone, himself included. He's addicted to Taking them. You will not get out of it.

Also sometimes just walks around in nyas stilettos for fun.

You two have fashion shows.

You also take over the Living room sometimes and build giant ass forts to watch shitty reality tv in and make fun oF The people

Overall, once he realizes you won't leave he's the most funniest loving chaotic guy.

But expect it to take a hot minute for him to realsie this

give him time,, but also have some deep talks..

Let him vent

and for the love of God don't hurt the baby's heart.

Expect inside jokes

[xclowniex]

I truly think that the majority of goyim simply do not know what it has been like for jews in the diaspora since Oct 7th.

When the news first broke, I did not know how far hamas had gotten into Israel, my family in Israel was on a trip somewhere in Israel too and I had no clue where they had gone for a holiday. Whilst I knew they did not live anywhere near the Gaza border, I had zero idea where they were when it was happening. I had zero clue if they were alive or dead. I was stuck in limbo watching all the reports.

Then on Monday, I had to go into work like nothing fucking happened, like I didn't just spend the weekend worrying if they were dead or alive.

When I came into work, my manager who had heard the news who knows I have family in Israel asked me what had happened. I was still processing the news myself. All I told her was that there was an attack on Israeli civilians and she said that she hoped my family was safe.

In the coming days I saw all the protests, all the protests BEFORE Israel had even retaliated. I saw the antisemitic protest in Australia where people were chanting "gas the jews" and thinking "oh my fucking God, Australian culture is similar to New Zealand culture, is a similar protest going to happen here?" I spend so long worried that something like that would happen where I lived. I planned what I would do if I got caught near one, picturing all the common places people protest and planning my escape routes. Thankfully nothing on that scale happened. I was lucky.

None of my friends at the time asked me if my family was safe, but they all posted about Palestine. Keep in mind that all bar one knew I have family in Israel as I've spoken about it multiple times.

I watched support keep coming and coming for palestine when Israel hadn't even retaliated yet, and no support for the Israeli lives lost. I pushed my feelings aside, giving people the benefit of the doubt, maybe just maybe they didn't know the extent of Oct 7th that was released at that time.

After Israel retaliated, I ended up unfollowing so many content creators online because they refused to talk Oct 7th and only talked about Palestine. Were my family just chopped fucking liver to them???? Did my anxiety that I felt about their safety just not matter? Did all Israelis dying not matter to them?

I went to my first Halloween party. It was fun and I enjoyed myself for the most part, but on the way there I kept worrying that someone was going to say something antisemitic, that someone was going to bring up the war and dehumanize Israelis, dehumanize my family. I spent the whole evening on edge, worrying that it would happen. As a result, to calm my nerves I ended up getting super fucked up. It did not work and I overdid the alcohol and weed and I just felt terrible. The next day I felt immense guilt. How could I party? How could I dance when those at Nova were killed when they were dancing?

Then the antisemitism started online. I watched antisemitic tropes just start flying around social media. It's what made me start posting about the war and antisemitism online. My blog turned from clown posts, my special interest, to a space where I could get my feelings off my chest.

Then the antisemitism started in real life. Whenever I wore my magen david, I would get called slurs. I had to start avoiding certain parts of town because of it.

I also felt highly isolated at work. I didn't know who I could speak to about what I was going through. My office is made up of mainly leftists. No one really spoke about the war at work, which in a way made it worse. I didn't know who was normal about jews and Israelis and who weren't.

The harassment got so bad that my partner at the time was begging me to stop wearing or at least hide my magen david as he was afraid that I would be physically attacked.

There were times which I hid it, and I still experienced antisemitism because I have a very jewish nose.

I experienced this for MONTHS.

At one point in time, I tried venting to my friends at the time about the antisemitism I was facing. One of them said that they hadn't seen any antisemitism so they didn't know what I was talking about. I called what they said weird, and they started on this whole tirade that I'm only calling them antisemitic because they're arab. I think this was in November. I looked at their blog and found posts denying oct 7th, saying it didn't happen. I took screenshots in case i needed them in the future. Oh the foreshadowing.

About two months ago, a new person was invited to the friend group discord server. This new person made some pro hamas comments and said they were a resistance group. I explained with proof that Hamas has said that they wanted to kill jews. This was the start of a downfall of my friendship with my ex friends.

2 weeks after that, one of my ex friend vents about the war, and in their vent they dehumanized Israelis. I decided to check all my friends social media posts. I found post after post after post with blood libel, oct 7th denial, antisemitic tropes, dehumanization of Israelis and jews, and posts in support of groups which want jews dead, such as the houthi which have "curse to jews" in their slogan. That new person added to the discord server literally sent a few messages explicitly saying that they support the houthi.

I take a few days to process things and decide enough is enough, and that I need to unfriend them all. I email my local synagogue and get accepted to join after being screened by them to verify that I was in fact jewish and not some antisemite wanting to harm the congregation. I end my friendship with my ex friends with an essay of a message stating what they said, why it was antisemitic and that I do not feel comfortable or safe being friends with them anymore.

Two of them reached out to me to try to fix things. One hasn't really done much, she only didn't ask if my family was safe after Oct 7th + never called out any antisemitism the friend group did. However our friendship could not be repaired as her boyfriend was one of the worse perpetrators of antisemitism.

The other one who reached out supported groups who had tied to Hamas. I asked them to no longer support SJP, and they refused with the excuse of "I already avoid so many activist groups because of white supremacy, it's too hard to avoid SJP. I had to bite my tongue. I wanted to scream at them "why the actual fuck are you attracted to so many groups who engage in white supremacy that you need to actively avoid them? How hard is it to avoid one more! Write a fucking list if you need help remembering!" But I didn't say any of that, I just told them that if that's their choice then we can no longer be friends anymore and I blocked them.

Going to synagogue was amazing. I felt so welcomed and have made some new friends. Reconnecting with my jewishness after not going to synagogue for years was good. It was exactly what I needed. However, it was the cause of the end of my relationship with my ex.

He had his parents force his culture on him since he was a child and hated every second of it. When he immigrated here, he assimilated and wanted nothing to do with the culture from the country he was born in. Whilst he was fine with me participating in jewish culture, he didn't want it brought into the relationship at all. He was fine eating jewish food if i cooked it, but he didn't want to learn about jewish culture or do anything regarding it. I wasn't expecting him to convert, all I wanted was for him to learn the basics about jewish culture, maybe surprise me with some recipies from my childhood like I've done with sri lankan recipies from his childhood when he told me that he's craving them, attend jewish markets when they happen. I did not at all expect him to convert or to become immersed in jewish culture, I just wanted him to make an effort to support my jewishness.

We were looking at marriage and children in the next few years and were discussing how to raise them. I wanted them to learn about their jewish culture as children and it would be up to them if they participated in it or not as they got older. He didn't want that at all. He viewed it as them being "indoctrinated" into judaism. I told him that I feel like he just wants to date some white girl who has a default culture of our country and that I could never be that, I would never throw away my jewishness to be that. And he agreed that he did want someone who just had the default culture of our country. So we broke up. To be fair, I had been thinking about breaking up for months due to other issues, but that was the one which made me go "this relationship cannot be fixed, it has to end or I will be unhappy forever".

On its own, it doesn't seem too bad, but after going through so much antisemitism, the one person who is support to support me, who is suppose to love me, couldn't do that as long as I was actively jewish and participating in jewish culture.

And that's not even a complete list of everything I have gone through since Oct 7th. And I can't make this post without mentioning the amazing jews in my phone, who have been there for me since the start. You have made this hellscape bearable.

Like I said, goyim don't know what it has been like for jews since Oct 7th

[jeonsbabygirlsworld]

SUMMARY : In which you let your husband take your virginity on your wedding night.

PAIRINGS: Dilf Taehyung x virgin reader

WORD COUNT :2K

SMUT WARNINGS: Unprotected sex (off course) ,cum eating, oral f. Eating out over panties, fingering, squirting, mention of blood (her cherry popped)! Titty sucking, aftercare ladies <3

A/N: A little something as I’ve reached 1k heheh thank you so much lovelies and i hope you liked this one and thank you my love 💖 @jj-one who helped me with this one and also @kingofbodyrolls who made this sexy banner💖

The beach was filled with fragrant blooms, an array of white and pink tulips adorned the set up, a gentle breeze softly tickles the groom's hair and he smiles looking at you walking hand in hand with your father holding a small bouquet of lilies.

Your wedding veil cascades down your back, complementing the silk lace and pearls embroiled on the dress, making you feel like a fairy princess. Nervously walking down the aisle with your father you blush the moment you see your husband, soft music and doting cheers follows in the background the moment you took each step.

Soon reaching upon you face the love of your life Kim Taehyung, your dad places your hand on your husband’s and some tears brim his eyes, asking him to always protect you and keep you happy forever. He chuckling upon his request, promising to keep you happy for the rest of his life while kissing the back of your palm and whispers "you look so beautiful my love." You visibly chuckle and mutter him a small "thanks, you look handsome as well".

You never thought you would end up with your casual fling that you met from an app, remembering it was one of your friends who had signed you up on the app after you broke up with your toxic ex. On the other side, Taehyung's friend, Jungkook, had signed him up when divorced his wife, thinking it was a good idea to get out of the grief and have some fun.

Your interests he was afraid if he came clean about his son you would leave.

He was sure he had fallen in love with you over the past year from just chatting and calling each other daily. It made him feel like he was a young man again and not a 38-year-old man who had a kid who would depend on for a few more years.

Taehyung was also afraid of the 16-year-old age gap, thinking it was too soon for you to commit to a lifelong relationship which included a child.

He had enough of it when he finally decided to take you on a date and coming clean about it. He came fully prepared to tell you about his son and break this situation you were in, he liked (read: Loves) you, but he didn't want you to live with the pressure of living with a child as you were young, and you had so much to experience.

In the cozy coffee shop, soft jazz played in the background while you nervously fidget on the chair, summing up the courage to tell him that you had started liking him and can see a future together. The man in front of you gave a crooked smile, continuing to surf through the menu.

"What will you have Y/n?" Taehyung asks as he skims each and every item written on the menu, his leg bouncing under the table due to anxiety.

"I love you Taehyung," you say at the same time as he began talking, he goes blank, the menu dropping from his hands while you mentally facepalm at yourselves. "Fuck I shouldn't have dropped this bomb this early.”

"What?" Taehyung gasps and then visibly gulps, and you return a crooked smile back. "Yes tae, I love you I've been loving you for a while now.." you confess once again, and he shutters "We-ll y/n m-e too" he says as if he's exclaiming, and you smile wide.

"But wait y/n, before I properly confess I want to tell you something," Taehyung nervously adds, becoming restless. Observing his moments you grab his spare hand which rested on the table and tell him to calm down.

"Y/n, you know I’m divorced, right? But I'm sorry I have hidden something very big from you, I have a five-year-old son Yi-hyun" he says, and you gasp "Oh my god, tae why did you hide this for so long?" you question, he fiddles with his fingers and explains his insecurities and chances of you leaving him.

"No tae, I would never, in fact, I love children and I would really love to spend my whole life with you." You blush as those words come out and Taehyung giggles, "I'll be more than glad and feel honored to stay with you for the rest of my life."

Taehyung gazes into your eyes, his eyes full of love and promises, the gentle breeze makes the few whips of your flix fly, and he thinks you look so pretty, soon the calm breeze carries out your wedding vows and seals all the promises of this lifetime commitment.

Yi-hyun stands right in the middle of you and Taehyung's parents, an uproar of cheers and claps filled the atmosphere when you exchange your rings. Glancing at him, you give a flying kiss and he acts to catch it, your husband won't stop at looking you with heart eyes.

It was soon evening while you and your husband basked in the warmth of newly wed love, surrounded by all your supporting family and friends. He occasionally steals a few kisses from you when you both slow danced and enjoyed the dance until it was time to make your grand exit and walk hand in hand till you reached your car.Your parents insisted on keeping your son for a couple of days until you come back from the honeymoon.

"Yi- hyun, don't trouble your grandparents okay baby? Be a good boy for me and your mom okay?" Your husband tells your son and he nods , he kisses yours and his father's and climbs down from his grasp and tells you both a "goodbye".

"Let's go baby been waiting for this day ever since I met you, gonna fuck you hard," Taehyung says with lust-filled eyes, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. He lays a few soft pecks, soliciting a gasp from you, letting out the smallest whimper of his name.

The ride to your house was short, your husband helped to get you out of the car and quickly thanked the driver, not even a minute later your back meets the door of your penthouse as your husband starts to devour your mouth with his, heavy kisses full of spit coats your lips.

You were taken aback for a few seconds until your mind processes his action, kissing your lover back with the same burning passion, you struggle a bit until you get the keys from the back pocket of Taehyung's pants.

"One Sec baby, let me just open this, and we can go inside," you say almost breathlessly in between kisses, turning around. Once inside, both you and his clothes join the ground soon. "I'll go slow baby okay? It's your first time, right? Gonna savour every last moment of this." Taehyung assures you, and you nod.

Never in your twenty-two years of living did you have sex with your boyfriend. Sex was a whole different thing you’ve yet to experience but you weren't a saint when it came to it either, the curious teen in you would look up porn and even tried masturbating before, but you just didn’t feel anything from it, you thought you were doing something wrong.

Taehyung helped you to get comfortable in the bed whilst he removes the last piece of his clothing, his boxers, while you had kept your panties on, feeling your cunt coating the plumpness of his lips with your slick. You moan at the movement as he hovers above you, "ready baby?" your husband sweetly asks, you nod and voice a simple "yes.”

Soft, gentle kisses are first felt on your neck and the light touch of his fingertips tickles your lower belly, coming dangerously close to your core. His nimble fingers nudge the bow on your lace panties, sucking in your breath when he slowly goes down to explore the rest of your body, sucking on your skin lightly as he trails his way down. Soon purple hues are decorated all over you.

Once he faces your core, his hot breath leaves you tingly inside, whimpering out his name as he slowly licks a wet strip of over the fabric of your panties and sucks on the ball of your clit, repeating his languid motion again and again, his eyes watching you above him. You’re left nothing short of a moaning mess, "fuck feels so good tae, just like that baby.." you express him how good he’s making you feel when he sucks and licks you over your panties, this new sensation was like no other.

Soon after a while he completely removes them off your body, groaning at the mess you made and his fingers rub over it so he could have some of you on his fingers. "Open baby" he affirms, you ecstatically take them in your mouth sucking off each finger one by one, he chuckles and bites back a moan. He thinks you’re the sexiest woman he’s ever seen.

"Gonna finger you baby, stay calm okay? I promise it's gonna soon feel okay." He assures and slowly inserts one of his fingers, you moan out loud as it feels different from what you felt while playing with yourself.

One finger soon turned into two and you felt something weird coming out, "Taehyung stop-stop, something's coming out," you breathlessly warn but he tells you to go on and doesn’t stop fingering you, only upping his pace. Liquid soon gushes out, "fuck baby, pretty girl" never failing to fluster you and make you blush, shying away and looking everywhere but his eyes.

His frame hovers above yours and tells you to rest properly, "Baby, is it okay?" He asks before continuing. His hard cock brushing over your soaked pussy lips, itching to be inside your warm cunt, his fingers part your lips while you involuntarily twitch, feeling weightless as his thumb rubs gentle circles along your sensitive clit. "Ready y/n? Look we don't have to do it tonight you can always back out baby" he says while you whimper at the loss. "N-no want it so bad I can take it" you eagerly said, leaning in to kiss his lips. "It might hurt at first, but then it's going to be okay, I promise my darling." With that, he slowly aligns himself with you and enters inside, causing you to both moan in unison.

Kissing your forehead to calm you down when he sees faint tears brimming your eyes, he pulls out just enough so he can spit in between you two to make the slide much easier. He notices some blood as you were still a virgin— up until now, beads of sweat drip from the sides of him and some of it lands onto your boobs. He attached his lips to suckle them, seeing your pretty mouth open wide and decides to slip his finger in, your body rises a bit when he tells you to see the bloody mess and you whimper while he pets your head with his other hand.

"Calm down baby you’re gripping me so hard.." he groans from the way you’re sucking him up and you try your best to relax your muscles and try to enjoy this feeling while occasionally kissing him, moaning at his touches. He rests his forehead on top of yours and soon he cums inside, gasping from his overwhelming orgasm, he slowly pushes himself up and removes his now softened cock. You feel the cum dripping down to your ass. “Wait up baby, I'm gonna get something to clean you up.” He smiles dotingly and you nod back at him.

Soon he cleans you both up and brings you a glass of water to drink, he’s cuddling with you as his fingers lace with yours. Soft kisses resound the room until you both knock down in each other's embrace.

You decide to wake him up with a good, morning blow job but who knew it would be him to be waking you up instead.

[soaps-mohawk]

Sacrifices

Kyletober Day 12: Gunplay

Summary: You took a chance. Now you have to pay the price of getting caught.

Pairing: Witch hunter!Kyle x witch!reader

Word Count: 1,912 words

Warnings: NSFW, dubcon, coercion, manipulation, gunplay, giving a blowjob to a loaded gun (don't do this), magic, witchcraft, religious themes, lots of fear and anxiety, language

A/N: Yeah, so this one is quite the change of pace but I'm not sorry for it.

MASTERLIST

This is not where you want to be. It’s not where you’re supposed to be. You were sloppy and reckless and now you’re paying for it. You have one job on nights like tonight, and that’s to not get caught. Now you’re sitting here on your knees, staring down the barrel of a gun. You’ve never been caught before. Never. Looks like that streak has been broken. Not that it will matter in a few moments. 

You glare up at his face, those dark eyes shining in the light of the full moon, reflecting its light down on you. You’ve seen him before in passing. It's hard not to miss him. You knew what he was immediately the first time you saw him on the street. A dedicated member of the church, always there, always watching. He's one of the ones that puts the targets on suspicious looking individuals, blending in with the crowd so well no one looks twice. 

Well, almost no one. 

The thought makes you chuckle. 

“Not going’ to beg for your life, witch?” He spits the title from his lips like it’s a curse, a slander upon his very being speaking that word aloud.

You suppose it is, for a witch hunter. 

“I wouldn’t beg even if you tortured me.” You spit back, unafraid. Your life will end regardless tonight. You’re not going to give him the satisfaction of begging for it. 

He hums, shifting forward to press the barrel of the gun against your forehead. The silver cross around his neck glints in the moonlight as he moves. “You’re a lively one. Not like the one last night.” 

Anger bubbles in your core. You know who he took last night. That was why you were out here in the first place. “You bastard!” Your eyes flash, your body shifting forward. You want to turn him to ashes, melt him down until he’s nothing but a corpse feeding the earth.

“Ah ah ah,” The safety of the gun clicks, the fire in you settling as you sit back on your knees again. “Not so fast. You’re forgetting who’s in control here.” 

You smirk. “You think you’re in control, witch hunter? Our mother is watching us all, and she will cast judgment upon you when you meet your end.” 

He matches your smirk, leaning down slightly. “Your false gods don’t scare me. I know what awaits me when my time comes.” 

“Some promise of paradise for killing innocent people?” You growl. 

“A promise of paradise for wiping the devil's worshippers off of god's green earth. It's a far better place than you will go.” He smirks, pushing the barrel of the gun harder against your forehead, just to the point of being painful. You’ll have an indent of it later, if he doesn’t leave a bullet hole there instead. “Such a waste.” He says, looking you over. “It’s always the pretty ones.”

Your glare deepens as you stare at him, his handsome face tarnished by the truth of what he is. “Wish I could say the same about you.” 

He huffs out a laugh, lightening the pressure of the gun against your forehead. “You're a fiery one, aren’t you?” His teeth sink into his lip as he stares at you, his eyes roving your body.

“I could turn you into ashes to prove it.” You retort, skin crawling from the way he’s looking at you. 

“I’m sure you’d love to.” He says, sliding the gun from your forehead down to your cheek. “You're a fun one, not like the others that beg and plead. I’d hate to waste such good fun.” He clicks his tongue, staring down at you for a moment before shifting on his feet. “I’ll cut you a deal. You give me what I want, and I’ll give you what you want.” 

“What is it you think I want?” You ask, starting to grow a bit uneasy. You knew there was a possibility that it might not just be your life that you lose tonight if you got caught. 

“The location of the witch we took last night.” He traces your lips with the barrel of the gun. “That’s why you risked coming out here tonight, isn’t it?” He clicks his tongue. “You want her back, you do as I say.” 

So she is still alive...

Or he’s toying with you, playing you like a deck of cards. 

“How do I know I can trust you?” You ask, your instincts telling you not to believe him for a moment, yet you can’t help that tickle in the back of your brain. What if he is telling the truth? What harm is there really in taking that chance? You’re going to die tonight regardless. 

“You don’t.” He shrugs. “You’ll have to decide whether or not you want to gamble.” 

Do it.

You feel that familiar tickle in the back of your mind. Your intuition is on red alert, picking up something in the back of your mind. What is there really for you to lose at this point? He holds your life in his hands regardless. There’s no escaping, but if he is telling the truth...

“Fine.” You say, shifting on your knees in the dirt. “What is it you want?” 

He smirks, pushing the barrel of the gun against your lips again. “Open up.” 

Your stomach clenches at his words, your eyes dropping to the gun. You know what he wants. You’ve heard horror stories from those that witnessed, the lucky few that managed to escape. 

“You sick fuck,” You sneer, trying to move your head away. 

“The choice is yours,” He shrugs, clicking the safety. 

You exhale through your nose, staring at the gun again. What really are your choices? Say no and die, letting the reason you came out here die with you? Or, bravely face the shame and possibly get a clue towards what you were seeking. If he’s lying he’ll kill you anyway. Better to take the chance and face the shame for the good of your coven. 

Mother forgive me.

You close your eyes, sucking in a breath before pushing yourself up onto your knees so you’re level with the gun again. He drags the barrel across your lips before you part them, your tongue darting out to lick across the tip. It’s metallic and bitter on your tongue but you push past the disgust at the offending flavor. You hold his gaze, your eyes sharp as you stare up at him. He looks far too satisfied as you open your mouth wider, taking the barrel into your mouth. 

The sharp metallic flavor coats your mouth, the taste of it nearly making you gag. He’s used it tonight, the grit of gunpowder sinking onto your tongue as you close your lips around the barrel. Shame burns hot in you as you take the gun deeper into your mouth, his hand pushing it forward until there’s nothing left to take. You want to gag, you want to vomit, but you won’t. You won’t give him the sick satisfaction of your weakness and struggle. 

Instead you pull yourself back, dragging your lips along the barrel until you’re nearly at the tip. His tongue darts out, licking his lips as you start to take it into your mouth once more, wincing from the way he pushes it against your tongue. 

“Not used to sucking, are you love?” He smirks, pushing the gun as far as he can into your mouth. 

Tears burn your eyes as you make a choked sound. Your breaths are sharp, in and out of your nose as he finally allows you to pull back, the taste of metal and gunpowder tainting your mouth. 

“Suck it like you mean it.” He commands, holding the gun towards you still. 

You swallow your pride as you take it back into your mouth, bobbing your head as you suck on the barrel. His finger isn’t on the trigger, yet you can’t shake that lingering fear that he could shoot a bullet right through your throat if he wanted to. 

If he wanted to kill you, he would have already. 

No, that’s not true. Witch hunters take far too much pleasure in torturing witches to waste opportunities like this. 

Sick fucks, the lot of ‘em. 

You suck the barrel of the gun like your life depends on it. In a way, it does. You doubt he’ll let you go free, but the thought that you might have a chance keeps you going. It’s not for you, or your life. You have nothing to lose, but by doing this, there is something you could gain. 

You take the gun as far into your mouth as you can again, tears gathering in your eyes as you stare up at him. He’s hard from this, the bulge in the front of his pants visible at this proximity. The fear that he might take this further still lingers in the back of your mind. 

Better the gun than him. 

You drag your tongue along the top of the barrel, staring up at him through your lashes. He licks his lips again, his other hand dropping to adjust his pants. 

Nausea churns in your stomach as you pull back, flicking your tongue across the tip of the gun again. You squeeze your eyes closed as you continue to suck on his gun, unable to stare at his smug face any longer. You take the gun deep into your mouth again, drool sliding from your lips and down your chin. 

He licks his own lips before he pulls the gun free, your body nearly falling forward. He drags the tip of the gun down your neck to your chest, smearing your own spit along your skin. He pushes your shirt down just slightly until the top of your breasts peek out, the tip of the gun pushing between them. Your heart is thudding, chest heaving. You can't stop the fear making your heart race. The knowledge that he's pointing a loaded gun right at your chest is overriding your expectation to die. All he'd have to do is pull the trigger and it would be the end. 

“Such a waste.” He murmurs, staring down at you for a moment before he moves the gun away. “The Old Mill.” He says, holstering the gun. “I'd move quickly though, if I were you. Can’t say how long she'll last.” 

He grips your chin before you can rise, tilting your head up. He stares down at you for a long moment. You wonder what it is he’s thinking, what’s going through his head. The conflict of whether or not he should have given you that information? The conflict of whether or not he should kill you anyway? The conflict of his desire that pushed him to commit such an act? Is he regretting not doing more? There’s nothing to stop him, even now. 

His fingers dig into your cheeks, forcing your mouth open. It hurts, your head being forced back until he’s looming over you. 

A glob of spit drops onto your tongue. 

“For next time.” He smirks before releasing you, taking a step back. 

As much as you want to reduce him to ashes, you know he's right. You'll need every ounce of power you still have if you're going to be successful. 

The Old Mill. 

You half expect him to shoot you as you dart through the trees and into the darkness. 

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[schoenpepper]

Isekai'd Chronicles 6

Intro: Idia in an isekai AU.

Warnings: bad writing, awful grammar, proofread by quillbot, mentions of tax evasion?

A/N: It's just Idia today, so I'll go ahead and schedule an earlier Diasomnia release. Enjoy.

Masterlist

Gods, your friends have just been way too clingy recently! It feels like you're being torn apart by the limbs when Floyd's pulling you to go somewhere as Rook intercepts and Jamil needs you to taste something while Trey has a new recipe he wants you to try and you can't split yourself into 11 parts to satisfy all their needs! Ace, Deuce, Epel and Jack, the wolf beastman you've recently befriended, all snicker at you and smile as if there was something they knew that you didn't. That annoys you. Thus, you decide to live like a hermit and stay in your room as much as possible, playing that new open world RPG that just came out.

It's fun, but you've never really been into games before, which makes you stumble to memorize mechanics you just don't understand. Thankfully, you meet someone in the game who helps you out, and you think that he's really nice, if not a bit smug at times. You two clear dungeons and stuff together, and you marry him in the game for tax evasion purposes. You've gotten so addicted to this game that your friends have been banging on your door to get you to spend time with them, but to no avail. Instead, you spend lots of time with your online husband. It's not until you bump into someone while raiding a village on your phone that this 'online husband' finally gets a face. Your phone clatters to the ground along with someone's tablet, showing the exact same screen, making you gawk at this tall, lanky senior of yours with flaming blue hair and sharp teeth.

How...did you manage to become online spouses with Idia Shroud, the Prince of Ghouls?

He apologizes and so do you, but when you pick up your phone from the ground, you tell him that you're very thankful he helped you out when you were a noob. He takes your gratitude and walks away with what you assume is anxiety. You still play the game, though you've made the decision that you definitely won't be too close to the capture target this time! Right. Until somehow, you're in his room, cocooned in his blanket, and the two of you are playing fighting games in the dead of night as he crunches on some potato chips. Uh, how did this happen?

Anyway, you think Idia's a bit too socially anxious for murder, and he's just not the type for it. So you take off his name from the now very short list of capture targets to avoid, just in time for that RPG to come out with a babymaking update...?

"This sucksss."

"Come on, Idia senpai, just trust me!"

"I don't trust anyone."

You roll your eyes. "Okay edgelord. You'll love it though, promise." You lead him to the edge of your bed and open the cage. A dark gray kitty with blue flames coming out of its ears leaps at you, and Idia gasps loudly. "You got a cat?! What should we name it? Him, her?"

You chuckle softly and place the kitty in his arms, though it doesn't seem to like Idia too much. "Let's name him Grim, like the reaper. You can come by whenever you want to pet him."

[erideights]

Little pieces here and there (4)

Pairing: Buggy x Fem!Reader (One Piece Live Action)

Parts: one, two, three, five

Word Count: 4,2K, i should ask for forgiveness

Warnings: flirting, pinning, (FUCKING) FINALLY, unprotected sex, buggy detaching parts of his body during sex like the freak he is

A/N: i've been building this moment so long that i was, once more, inspired by god to make this chapter the longest ever, i hope you all enjoy and that the awaited smut doesn't disappoint and delivers (let me know, anxiety is killing me, love u all, see you in chapter 5, the final (until season 2) of this series) (again i'm really really sorry for any grammatical mistake!)

Day 5 after what happened during the Arlong Park fight, or what is the same for her = 5 AAP, (Y/N) is sure about three things:

1. With the choice of leaving her mercenary life behind, comes her new position as the ''strategist'' of the Straw Hat crew, a group of very unique people that after a couple of stops along the way, would arrive at the Grand Line.

2. Their next destination is Loguetown, which excited her; she loved the city, she never turned down an assignment that involved working there. They would arrive in a couple of days and stock up on everything they would need before beginning the greatest adventure of their lives.

3. Buggy's nose was real. Very real. And she missed him. Just a bit.

To be more precise, that bit of tension and constant sarcasm around her. She knew he was a pain in the ass, and that his staying on the ship wouldn't have lasted much more than an extra day and a half because one of her crewmates -Zoro- would have unceremoniously thrown him overboard anytime.

But it was really fun for her, so from time to time and in particular, when she passes by the helm, she finds herself remembering that annoying talking head and smiling a bit.

And so, after an entire week, they arrive at the famous Loguetown, the tomb of the most famous pirate of all time, a refuge for mercenaries, pirates and bounty hunters from all corners of the East Blue! No matter what, everything your heart could desire -except for the One Piece- you could find there. Jewelry, weapons, food, alcohol, a good bed to sleep and rest in, or other darker, macabre and adult types of entertainment.

Ah, what a city. Anyone could get lost among its endless alleys packed with people. That's why when the crew splits up, they do it in pairs, making sure that Zoro, who they had already discovered, lacked complete and utter sense of direction, wouldn't be left alone and lost among the city's infinite tide of pirates. (Y/N) is the one who goes with him, both heading to the largest armory in the city to replace his destroyed katanas while Sanji and Luffy take care of the food, and Usopp and Nami go around to do… she doesn’t really remember what. Trying clothes she believes.

She must say, however, that this swordsman is not exactly the most talkative person in the world even though their friendship has considerably grown and deepened during their little journey. Apart from sharing small notes about the city, how many people there are, or what they should do, they don't really talk that much; in her case, because she is absorbed in her surroundings, soaking in every possible detail. Him, silent because his reputation as a pirate hunter is famous around all the East Blue, and of course, in Loguetown there are only pirates. He prefers to stay alert to avoid future conflicts and have a peaceful morning. Not for him, but for his crew.

That's why when a gloved hand flies out of a dark alley, and violently covers the girl's mouth and nose, preventing her from screaming, while another grabs her by the waistband of her pants and yanks her back, forcing her to get in said alley, Zoro doesn't even notice, he continues calmly walking, minding his own fucking business, heading to only God knows where.

Farewell, mosshead.

In a blink, (Y/N)'s back collides with a strong torso, and with her heart in her mouth and adrenaline running wild in her veins, she stretches her right hand to reach the knife she has in the holster on her right thigh to destroy the asshole that dares to try to steal from her. Or murder her. Or that's her idea until she hears a familiar voice murmuring an “I got you” behind her, before turning her head and discovering the biggest, reckless buffoon she's ever met.

Buggy.

Eyes wide open, she screams against his palm, pissed off by the way he scared the shit outta her. Extremely angry, she yanks his hand away from her mouth, turns her entire body around and looks at him with what he would swear, is the most annoyed expression he ever saw in his entire life. Before the clown can excuse himself and his lack of manners, just as she begins to see that stupid smile appear on his stupid face, she slaps him so hard that for a second, he thinks his head will detach from the rest of his body.

Then, and pushed by an outburst of passion that comes out of she doesn’t even understand where, a mixture of adrenaline, surprise, her desire to kill him with her own hands and the -sexual- frustration with which he abandoned her the last time, she grabs his vest, pulls and kisses him. Again, all before Buggy can even react.

The kiss is brief. Really quick, but intense as hell, and she manages to leave him breathless. Yes, him. Only him. Because the moment they separate, when (Y/N) pushes him back, she spits out a heartfelt “You're an idiot!”

What a fucking rollercoaster. He doesn't even remember what he was about to say anymore to greet her. He's in fact, too stunned to speak. Did she slapped, kissed, and insulted him in less than a minute? Oh, she's a freak, just like him. The only difference between them is that she knows how to pretend the opposite. But she can't hide it from him. Not to the king of the freaks.

''I missed you too, baby'' he admits with an amused smile, moving his jaw a little from side to side, as well as his neck; that woman is stronger than he expected.

''Yeah? Because I really didn’t.’’ she spits once again, taking a deep breath. ''Liar'' he retorts, eyeing her up and down. ''Liir'' she instantly mocks, still recovering from the tsunami of emotions that just passed through her. ''What the fuck are you doing in Loguetown?''

''I came looking for my sorry excuses for a supporting cast,'' his crew. Were they still alive? Would have sworn Zoro destroyed all of them but who knew. ''and turns out I found the perfect, shiny, little new supporting star for my show'' he adds, as flirtatious as always around her, approaching (Y/N) again.

''Oh, I feel flattered but as I already told you, I don't like being in the spotlight. I relate way more to the shadow around it.”

He rolls his eyes but nods in understanding, reaching out to grab the girl's waist. ''Mhm. What about a private show, then? We have a play to finish, If my memory's not betraying me.'' He whispers honeyed, closing the distance between the two just a bit more. Cannot stop himself, neither he wants to. He knew as soon as he recognized her on the street, he would not let her go without putting order in their outstanding matters.

She’s about to add her usual sarcastic and smartass remark saying something among the lines of ‘without inviting me to dinner first?’ but she chooses not to. Just for once. ''I could agree to that.'' The girl admits, tilting a smile. ''Not here, tho.'' Pressing the clown's chest with her index finger, signaling for him to stay still, (Y/N) runs her tongue over her upper teeth, taking a couple of seconds to think.

In the end, she raises an eyebrow, and with an amused smile, she asks: “Do you trust me?”

''Not in a million years''

''I knew you would say that.'' She still takes one of his hands, that was still on her waist, and starts walking quite fast towards the other end of the alley, pulling him with her. He doesn’t object at all, despite not knowing where the hell is she taking him, and simply follows her lead, unconsciously squeezing her hand to not to lose her in the crowd.

Not many minutes later, after climbing some stairs and turning a few streets, there they are, in front of a beautiful tavern with windows decorated with ornate dark wooden planks, designing patterns of small squares, offering a beautiful view of its interior. The building was not one of the largest in the area, but it was not one of the smallest either. She knew from experience* that the floors above the tavern were rooms rented to the pickiest pirates. They had enough space to rest comfortably after a long voyage at sea, with a good bed and several locks on the doors and windows to prevent intrusions, attempts at robbery or murder, or a drunken idiot making a mistake and entering the wrong room.

*She knows this because a couple of years ago she needed to sneak in during the night to steal a jade seal from a famous pirate captain, who had previously stolen it from the temple it belonged to a few months before. Getting in wasn't easy at all.

Walking to the side of the building, where the windows of the rooms can be seen better, (Y/N) looks right, then left, making sure there’s no one nosing around.

‘’Here we are.’’ She announces, looking at him with a devilish smirk on her face. ''Now pay attention, here's my brilliant, unique and exceptional plan. It will absolutely blow your mind.’’ He cracks a genuine smile after hearing how she praised herself. She sounded almost like him. 

“First step: Throw your head up to that window over there,” she points said window with her index finger, two floors above their heads, “and tell me if there’s someone sleeping inside. Or if you see any sign someone rented the room.’’

Confusion is the feeling that crosses his beautiful face for a second, looking at her with a raised eyebrow and lips pressed into a small incredulous smile. She wants to sneak through the window without being seen and not pay a single berry? Exactly what a true pirate would do. He was starting to fall in love with her.

Without a second thought, his head separates from his body and floats to the open window, slightly sneaking in to check as she asked. And as fast as it goes up, it returns back down, just like a yo-yo. ''Clear'' He confirms, amused. 

''Perfect, second step: now throw your right hand, same window, and leave it there.'' And he does as she says, no questions asked, because he could not do otherwise. Because he wouldn't want to do otherwise. He was not made to follow orders and still, deep down, he knows he would follow hers. Or better said… he would follow her around. She was, maybe, not a theatre kid like him, but to his eyes, she shines brightly.

Not as much as him, tho.

Once Buggy's right hand waits patiently on the window frame, (Y/N) grabs the clown by the shoulders and strategically positions him under the window. Then she takes his left hand, bringing it forward. "Third step: with this hand you propel me into the air, with the other you grab me and you help me sneak in."

''And the final step?'' Getting very close to his face, the girl rubs her nose against his and whispers, voice low and lustful, ''You float to the window and meet me inside for that private show you mentioned before.'' He already knew the goal of that whole improvised plan, but he almost purrs when he hears her say it.

Then Buggy throws her upwards without prior notice, way stronger than she expected, and a sweet, genuine laugh escapes (Y/N)'s lips at the lack of gravity and that distinctive tickle in her stomach that rises to her throat. Not even when he uses that floating hand to catch her and guide her to the room, her feet on solid ground again, she’s able to stop laughing.

She expected this whole forbidden getaway to be entertaining, but not so, so fun. There was no point in denying the obvious: the complicity, the chemistry between them is criminal, asphyxiating, palpable, and so, so /real/. It's not only about physical attraction and sexual tension anymore, they were actually really compatible, which could only, and is already, making things one hundred times better.

As soon as she's inside, still giggling a bit, she's quick to reach the door and securely close it, fitting the bolt with a pair of lockpicks that she had on her. On the other hand, as soon as Buggy gets inside the room he chooses not to lose a single second, because every second he wastes is one less that he can enjoy that fantastic woman who is driving him crazy; before she can return to the center of the room, he has already recovered his right hand, thrown his hat to the floor along with his coat, and has rushed towards her, kissing her again, this time without a hurry, but voraciously, passionately, with the irresistible yearning he has been suffering for almost two weeks. He wants-- no, he needs to make her his. The desire making his blood boil. Her warmth, her smell, the taste of her lips-- even her laugh. It was too much. Too intoxicating.

(Y/N) welcomes him, sighing deeply against his lips, tilting her head a little, melting in the kiss, her hands flying to his hair to take out the bandana and pull at his blue locks, to which Buggy responds by grabbing her from the back of her thighs, lifting her up and carrying her to the bed, near the window. He lets some of his weight fall onto her, loosely holding himself on his knees on the mattress. She closes her legs around his waist, pressing him even a little closer against her body, excitement coursing through her veins like poison.

All that little game with the clown was just flirting, huh? Yeah, sure.

For a minute, everything is kisses, stealing each other's breaths, strong caresses on arms, legs, and back over clothes. There are bites at each other's lips, seemingly incapable of getting enough of the other, the attraction between them driving them both so absolutely insane than getting some distance to get naked seems impossible.

“Baby,” raspily, he press his crotch between her legs to let her feel his growing erection under his pants. ''I suggest you getting naked before I rip your clothes off by myself.''

She moans in response, wetter, more aroused by every second passing, unable to even think about playing hard to get this time. ''Aye aye captain'' she manages to whisper back mischievously, separating her hands from his body in order to pull her own shirt up and throw it somewhere in the room.

He grunts, but makes the titanic effort to separate himself from her, standing on his knees in front of her laying body, licking his lips, breathing heavily, eyes half-closed, already fucking her in his thoughts. Of course, seeing her undress for him is quite a show.

After her shirt comes the button and zipper of her pants. Although before getting rid of these, she pulls the scarf around the clown's neck, forcing him to lean over her again, and after it goes his vest. Given the girl's haste, he lets escape a hoarse laugh that reverberates inside his chest and decides to help her with whatever’s left between them; shoes, pants, gloves, and underwear.

''You're gorgeous'' he breathes, taking in her image in front of him. “You’re almost making me feel guilty for what I'm about to do.”

Before she could even ask, or threaten with a ‘don't you fucking dare’ or something among those lines, one of Buggy's hands flies to her own, and pins her wrists against the bed with such force, she hisses, heart in her throat, deafening her ears. She remembers herself, this was all too good to be true, and that damn clown promised to make her beg. He wasn't going to forgive her so easily, was he?

Her fault.

''Sweetheart, open your beautiful legs for me, will you?'' Returning to the bed, the clown settles between the girl's thighs, running -with the only hand still attached to his body-, one of her legs, from the knee to the hip bone in a slow and tortuous caress.

''Now, I'm pretty sure I warned you about what's about to happen last time you took advantage of my... uncomfortable, kinda-hostage situation on your stupid little boat. When you decided to push me to my limit.''

She is too aroused, too turned on to think clearly, her mind clouded by the same rush of hormones that’s making her incredibly wet. Having him now naked between her legs, threatening her in that low tone of voice, exposed helplessly in front of him, doesn't help at all; it is, as a matter of fact, making things way worse.

''You wanted me to beg, right?’’

''Exactly. It's that easy.'' After a couple of strokes, he grabs his erection and runs it slowly through her wet folds, both of them barely containing a moan in their throats at the sensation. He, perhaps, better than her, because (Y/N) involuntarily pushes her hips upwards, trying to get some more. ''Ah-ah. Want me to fuck you, sweetheart? Just beg for it. Beg for /me/.''

Being the proud woman she is, it's not exactly easy for her to seriously beg for something. Joking? Of course, any time, even sarcastically, but something is telling her, her sixth sense probably, he won't settle with a sarcastic remark and dove eyes.

Closing her eyes tightly, she lets herself be carried away by pure and absolute desperation every time he runs his erection through her, lubricating himself with her fluids. He is silent, already tasting the sweet victory he’ll feel when he manages to break her and make her beg. Although this doesn't happen as quickly as he would have preferred.

''(Y/N)'' He warns, and it's the first time he says her name out loud. The first time she hears him, with his raspy voice and his beautiful accent, pronouncing her real name instead of some compliment or silly nickname to call her.

Welcome, breaking point.

''Beg--'' 

''I need you,'' she interrupts him in a low whimper, lifting her hips. ''Bugs-- Buggy, I need you to fuck me. Now.”

Usually, it's moments like this particular one in which the clown enjoys recreating himself, making others beg a little more, -sex, mercy, forgiveness- doesn’t matter-, taking his good time listening to her moans and cries of desperation. But he can't help it, the second he hears the girl call him by his name, telling him how much she needs him, and that silly attempt of an order at the end, he knows it’s game over, and he decides to give her exactly what she wants, penetrating her suddenly the last time he runs slowly through her folds. A sweet moan of relief and pleasure escapes from (Y/N) chest along with a "Fuck, Buggy--". From him, a hoarse grunt. A shiver runs down their spines, and quickly, Buggy recovers his other hand, freeing her from his grip, to aggressively pull both of her thighs to bring her closer to him, and begins to thrust hard, all shreds of self-control escaping from his body lightspeed.

He pushes into her as deep as he can in no time, burying himself between her legs, face hidden in the crook of her neck, hands keeping her legs open, close to his hips.

She doesn't know what she likes more, the erratic sound of his breathing and panting in her ear, the desperation with which his whole body seems to search for hers or each penetration sending an ecstasy shock through her nerves, but she soon becomes a puddle of sweet moans, whimpers and breathing as heavy as his, one hand pulling hard at his blue hair, the other resting on his abdomen, nails digging slightly his skin with each thrust.

''Oh god, Bugs--’’

''Moan my name louder baby,'' he breathes before biting her shoulder, leaving the mark of his teeth imprinted on her skin. ''I want them to catch us. I want them hearing you scream my name.”

And she does. She moans his name again, just not as loud as he wants. Which means there is something, something he can do better. Something to push her to her limit, to make her a believer, and make her /his/.

Summoning all his willpower, and not before one last, violent thrust, the clown stops and suddenly pulls out of her. (Y/N) complains with a loud cry, opening her eyes to ask what the fuck is he actually doing, how dares he to stop. Thank God, she doesn't have time to threaten him before he speaks.

''On your knees.'' And of course she obliges, on all fours, the simple idea making her completely lose her mind. Only thing, Buggy doesn't intend to keep her like this for a long time; as soon as she exposes herself for him again, he buries himself once more inside her as deep as he can and starts thrusting again, slowly but strongly, ending each thrust with a loud slam. This time, both hands separate from his body, one reaching for her delicate neck, which he circles with his fingers and presses to lightly cut off her breathing. The other one flies to her mouth, pushing between her lips with two fingers that she soaks in her saliva.

(Y/N), unable to articulate a single complaint, sucks, bites and licks them, muffling against them every sound that escapes her throat.

A pleasure shock, like a lightning bolt, forces her to arch her back the moment that same hand flies to her clitoris and starts masturbating it, overstimulating her.

Buggy is really determined to make her his, to not let her forget about him, to become the legitimate protagonist of each of her erotic fantasies, so to finish driving her crazy, the hand he has around her neck lifts her up, pulling her until he forces her back against his torso in a beautiful reference to the day they met and the first time he felt that magnetic attraction inevitably pulling him towards her.

''So. Much. Better,” he manages to whisper between grunts and raspy moans, surrounding her abdomen with one of his arms to keep her in place, close to his chest, sacrificing penetrating her as deeply as he would like but without caring in the slightless because he knows, she is quickly reaching her orgasm. He can feel it in the way her walls contract around his cock, in the beating of her heart in her throat against his hand, and in how her hands reach for anything, trying to support herself; in this case, his arm around her, nails scratching his skin.

''C'mon baby, cum for me.'' He groans, refusing to fall headfirst to his own orgasm because he doesn't plan to finish before her. Under other circumstances he would have done it, he has never been the kind of generous lover who thinks of his partner's pleasure before his own. This woman is breaking some old habits and patterns just being the way she is. And he doesn't care at all.

A few more thrust, the lack of enough oxygen in her lungs and that wonderful pressure on her clitoris, and (Y/N) explodes in an orgasm so strong she begins to breathless moan Buggy’s name over and over again like a mantra, which obviously feeds his ego so, so much, it ends up sending him over the same edge, moaning her name under his breath, resting his forehead on her shoulder, hugging her body tightly as they ride their climax.

                                        …

''Told you I would make you beg'' he cracks a devilish smirk, wrapping his right arm around her shoulders when he finally lies on the mattress.

''Yeah'' she giggles, although sarcastically, recovering by the second, enough clarity to recompose her own ego. ''You also told me you would make me find the One Piece without going to the Grand Line and I cannot see it anywhere yet.''

What a subtle way of asking for a second round, he thinks to himself, clearly pleased -instead of offended- for the way his smile stretches even more, looking intently at her.

“You're right.” He would have liked to lie on the bed for a while, getting back some energy and attack again, but damn him if he ever dares to reject a provocation as bold as that one. He wouldn't forgive himself.

Getting out of bed almost as quickly as he lay down a few minutes ago, Buggy cracks his neck from side to side, and taking one of the chairs next to the table in the room, he turns it in the air, leaving it pointing towards the girl.

He then sits down, leaning on the backrest, relaxed, exhaling an erotic, slow sigh as he exaggeratedly separates his legs in a clear invitation for her to come closer and sit on them.

"What did you say the other day? About liking a man with his entire body, capable of fucking you in his lap and making you scream his name?"

[vidavalor]

Just on the back of your last post about how Aziraphale and Crowley have been a couple for (literal) ages, of which you have me thoroughly convinced, there's one thing I've never been able to figure out.

In 1941, when Crowley saves the books, what are we seeing from Aziraphale? By this point he knows damned 😉 well that Crowley adores him, so I very much doubt the 'this is when Aziraphale realised his love was returned' theory. Is it to do with their holy water fight?

Apologies if you've covered this already but I've read through your master post and most of your previous posts and couldn't find anything. I keep musing on it and thinking 'oh Vidavalor will know but I shouldn't bother them'!

Ground Control to Mr. Tom! 😊 Hi there. 💕 You are correct that I haven't done a post about this, which feels very much like my all-over-the-place blog, because this is one of the most-discussed scenes in the show. 😂 You are absolutely not a bother! Do not speak such silliness. I'm going to explain my take on that scene with some help from The Archangel Fucking Gabriel. Therefore, there is hot chocolate, should you want a mug.😊

This is also going to be my contribution to the Azirafeast celebrations so I wish any of you reading this many scrumptious returns!

Below the cut is the one in which someone who thinks Crowley and Aziraphale have been lovers since ancient Rome offers an opinion on what's going on with Aziraphale and the books in 1941... by way of a look at what we might be able to learn about this moment from its sister moment in Gabriel & Beez's flashback.

Be them real people or fictional ones, angels-- especially our two, main ones on Good Omens-- are not accustomed to feeling seen.

This is largely because they believe they exist to sacrifice themselves for the protection and betterment of others... that this is literally what they were made by God to do... or at least what they've been told God wants them to do... and, as we know, they've got plenty of questions over all of that.

They can often feel guilty about their consumption of resources-- or their curiosity about doing so in different ways-- when they've been told that those resources and the experiences that come with them are not for them, even if all evidence seems to suggest that might not really be the case.

They are told they are supposed to live small lives of sacrifice and are, as a result, full of conflicts about their hungers, their needs, their desires... about their love, and the want of a free life of their own.

They exhibit perfectionist behaviors, are full of self-criticism, and are excessively self-sacrificing.

Intellectually, they know they are a person with wants and needs like everyone else but they've been taught that they are supposed to be above all of that and breaking free of that abuse comes with negative self-thoughts, anxiety, depression, and a whole slew of other fun struggles.

That attempted thought control and oppression of people that is responsible for these angels' inner torment, though? As The Supreme Archangel aptly puts it while having a total breakdown shown by chasing his metaphorical self (The Fly) around the bookshop and trying to kill it with a Bible...

...it never works.

It might, unfortunately, get some people but it never, ultimately, works in society as a whole for very long because people want to live. People are made to live. They will seek out coffee over death and rebel against any society that seeks to oppress them in whatever way that they can. Eventually, angels who want to break free will find different ways of letting themselves be individuals on their own terms, even as they are still full of conflict about it, as we've seen Aziraphale and Gabriel do throughout the story.

They'll express themselves in different ways but with the same sense of desperation to have something of their own as a way of admitting that they are a person, too.

Maybe, one night, an angel will, say, allow himself to indulge his hungers by eating an entire ox... maybe in front of the demon he'd like to consume with just as much enthusiasm. Maybe those hungers become ones that, despite his inner conflicts that lead to periodic episodes of depression and fasting, this angel will allow himself to otherwise regularly satiate, and in which he finds enjoyment, nourishment, connection and peace, that he would not have otherwise found.

Maybe, on another night, a different angel will let himself slip away from Heaven and return having consumed resources for himself, in the form of a tailor-made suit that serves as proof to himself that he isn't just a symbol but an individual person in his own right. Maybe it gives him a connection to his body that also leads to him jogging and exploring more of the world. Maybe he allows himself the freedom of owning what he can of his own body and own appearance because control over these things have otherwise been taken from him in the process of denying his personhood and making him more of a symbol to be venerated.

While these are good examples of these two angels finding different but similar, healthy paths to recognizing themselves as people, it's one thing to recognize yourself but another thing for someone else to recognize you.

Angels are wonderful at taking care of everyone else but they sometimes have a blind spot when it comes to their own needs and safety. They are so busy taking care of everyone else that they are prone to making mistakes with their own care.

Such as this angel below being so pleased with an opportunity to contribute to the war effort that he missed that he'd accidentally let himself be recruited by the wrong side...

...and needing his partner to identify some Nazis and redirect some bombs to keep him from being discorporated...

...and such as this other angel below being pleased with his ability to show care towards his new partner...

...but also, as we can see by the expression in his reaction to Beez's suggestion above, so unused to being cared for that, even if he was intellectually aware of it, the aspect of partnership involving mutual care was so foreign to him that it threw him for a bit of a loop.

Sometimes, an angel will be going through a period of struggle when it comes to their interactions with the world. It's often times not even just the feeling that they should just be advisors more than active participants and that the world is not for them. They are, in these moments, just imposter syndrome run amok, and that robs them of pursuing that which makes them feel happy and fulfilled.

Loving an angel in this mode requires gentle, genuine, affirming care:

The imposter syndrome modes can strike at any time for angels but tend to do so especially when they've very recently tried to engage with the world in a big way and saw it backfire.

Like when they spend a lot of time trying to sort out their place in the world and regularly go back and forth between being so influential that they personally own and have developed an entire city neighborhood but also then have days when they don't want to open their own bookshop to the world.

Like when they are supposed to be an angel and nothing else but, if they could choose a vocation, they'd be doing card tricks and pulling rabbits out of hats at birthday parties for all of eternity, and they feel so massively guilty about it that they tell themselves that the magic shop is not a place for them.

But maybe never more than like when there is a war on... an absolutely massive, global war... the first atomic war, the war that could bring about Armageddon, for all the angel knows... and everyone in the human world is trying to do their bit as best they can and, one day, a young woman claiming to be British intelligence knocks on the door and says that they need the angel-- this particular angel and only him... this angel who sometimes feels like he doesn't always know how best to help but wants nothing more than to be good and do good and help others.

The Allied Forces needs Mr. Fell for an intelligence mission to help thwart the Nazis and work towards stopping the war. And what do they need from this angel, in particular?

They need his books.

Aziraphale collects books of all kinds but he has two major personal collections that are highlighted in the story. One is humorous and self-aware-- a collection of misprinted Bibles. Those are living proof of the fallacy of language and gospel-- of the bullshit of people. They are comforting to him in their existence, as they reinforce his sense that following what others say is the word of God is not really a better path than following his own moral compass. The Allied Forces don't need these books, though.

They need the other ones that Aziraphale has been collecting forever:

His books of prophecy.

This angel collects written works by humans that profess to be prophetic. He has original works of Nostradamus and Mother Shipton and many others. He has preserved them throughout centuries, keeping them safe in his care, even if the works are, largely, complete and utter balderdash. He has kept these books, nutty as they are, safe from damage and in existence, for years, just in the event that maybe these humans, in some way, really did have answers as to the future of the world in which the angel lives, too.

The one that he knows has been slated to be destroyed around 6,000 years from its inception-- a date that was approaching closer with each breath in 1941.

Was it really going to happen? Was there a way to stop it? Aziraphale has been trying to see if maybe the humans have found a way, studying their prophetic works for centuries upon centuries, anxiously looking for clues on how to stop Armageddon and save the world he loves...

...and also therefore be able, as a result, to stay on Earth with the person he loves and not be separated from him for eternity.

It's these books of this angel-- these beloved, material possessions; these perfect examples of everything that he's been told that he's not supposed to have-- that Captain Rose Montgomery of British Intelligence says that he can provide to entrap some Nazis and help save the world for his fellow humans and his partner.

An angel's biggest blind spot is always wanting to help and never feeling like they're doing enough. They're vulnerable to trusting the wrong people for the right reasons. Their desperation to do good and be good in the face of feeling like they're not a good person at all can cause them to have the best of intentions but be open to manipulation by those with the worst of ones.

Sometimes, it's a human Nazi. Sometimes, it's a supernatural one...

...same difference. Both dangerous. Both examples of an area where an angel might not survive if they don't let in a trusted person who can give to them the same love and care they give to everyone else.

The fallout from making a mistake can be devastating to an angel.

They feel embarrassed and snappish-- the anger and frustration related to the miscalculated situation triggering (and masking) the anxiety and depression to which angels are hardly strangers.

They can retreat into self-doubt. Moments of bravery when it comes to trying again are sometimes just as quickly diluted by their compounding insecurity and the fear that they are just jiggery-pokery and do not belong in the world.

This is when they need their demons the most.

Demons? They are fallen angels.

They know all this about angels because they're not much different themselves.

They have had the experience of having to redefine themselves in the face of being told by their societies that they were no longer angels and, in some ways, that has freed the more introspective demons to have enough perspective to offer counsel to willing angels as to how to manage those conflicts.

These demons, like Crowley and Beez, are uniquely well-suited to loving angels because they have also been through these same conflicts-- and still struggle with many of them.

These demons have experienced violence and violation as a result their angelic conflicts. They are drawn towards the inherent goodness of their angels, who approach them with kindness, respect, and a sense of equality to which the demons are not accustomed but which helps to build trust.

Just as these demons seek to protect these angels from harm that might befall them in the future, the angels we're discussing are both mindful of their partners' pasts and take care to help them feel safe. They are emphatic about their partners' comfort, reinforce their expectations of a partnership involving free choice and equality, and continually make clear that they consider-- and will always consider-- explicit, enthusiastic consent essential.

Their demons' knowledge of the darker aspects of the world also make them uniquely aware of the risks to their angels and they seek to protect them from experiencing the same pain they have felt from trusting the wrong faces. They do everything they can to keep their angels from falling-- literally, as in from Heaven, or more figuratively, as into despair.

They give them music and food and companionship... they open up the world for the angels and help them live life with the other people in the pub, literally and metaphorically. They explore the human world with them and make them feel less alone, letting the angels do the same for them.

Loving an angel is first seeing that angel there and acknowledging their humanity. It's affirming their imperfection as being just part of personhood and holding up that personhood as being worthy of love. It is reflecting back to the angels the same empathy, openness, and lack of judgement as what the angels give to them.

It's seeing that the angel who wrestles with living up to the expectations of the statues in his honor and the titles for which he never asked is, really, an imperfect, good-hearted, kind person beneath his snarky, sharp-edged exterior. It's seeing the depression that clouds his eyes and the fine edges he's walking in Heaven and knowing what comes next more than maybe can see in the moment and protecting him, as best as someone can, from the fallout of those actions.

Beez knows what it is to fall. They see Gabriel already in a downward motion in every way there is and knows that it comes with risk of losing himself, the way that they once did themselves. They dump out the matchsticks because the good kind of fire is already lit between them and the fire of Hell is not for their angel. They gift him a fly-- that which is made from their body. They are Gabriel's container. He is safe by putting all of himself, literally and figuratively, into Beez.

While this is a big moment in the Ineffable Bureaucracy parallel and one that also parallels the holy water, Gabriel's response to it is a mirror to Aziraphale's response to Crowley saving the books in 1941. What can Gabriel maybe tell us about what Aziraphale was feeling then, through what is similar and what is different about these two moments?

For starters, Gabriel and Beez knew how they felt about one another before The Fly. They already had shared that through "Everyday". The Fly is not an "oh" moment for Gabriel, in the sense that it wasn't a sudden revelation of either Beez's love or of his own. If anything, he and Beez never really had an "oh" moment in that sense of one because elements of how they both felt were always just understood and present in their interactions.

This is honestly true of a lot of relationships. A lot of "oh" moments are not so much becoming aware of having feelings for someone but are just being hit with a new aspect of love that both/all parties is/are already aware is in existence, even if it hasn't always yet been fully spoken.

In S1, we see that Gabriel and Beez only let their guard down around one another. They have always been as close to friends as they could be in their positions. They already care about one another when we first see them together and then, in S2, Gabriel is completely unsurprised at Beez's flirting with him moments into the first date-- and Beez had no hesitation in doing so, suggesting that they likely have before.

Their attraction to one another is presented as an existing given between them from the very start of their flashback sequence. There's no "oh" over The Fly or anything else because they just know. They start to give words and actions to it as they fall deeper in love throughout the scenes but there's never any doubt that they both have been long-aware of what exists between them.

If anything, Ineffable Bureaucracy is probably the real, millennia-long pining relationship in Good Omens, as while they had all these very good foundations for a romantic relationship, they didn't really begin to pursue one until between S1 and S2.

Gabriel's response to The Fly parallels Aziraphale's response to Crowley saving the books in 1941, even if the contrasting part of the parallel is that both are responses to gestures made by these demons for their angels in very different stages of these relationships.

For Gabriel, The Fly is an "oh" moment-- but not one that is about a new revelation related to love existing. It's about what is, for him, a heartbreakingly new experience:

It's not that Gabriel doesn't already know how he and Beez both feel about one another because already he does by this point. Gabriel isn't having a realization of the existence of his love or of Beez's love when Beez gives him The Fly; he's having a realization that this is what it feels like to be loved.

And what is feeling loved, to an angel?

It's being and feeling truly seen.

It's someone noticing them and coming along to care for them while they're out there, trying to save the world when they're sometimes not sure they can even save themselves. It's someone seeing that in them and not seeing anything worth berating them about the way that they berate themselves but, instead, seeing a person worthy of their love and protection.

Loving an angel is giving them the same kindness and care that they give to the world but that they often deny themselves.

For Gabriel, that night in The Resurrectionist was the first time that anyone had ever done something like that for him. It wasn't an "oh" of I'm in love because he already knew that and that Beez felt the same way. It was an "oh", though, of falling deeper in love. It was an "oh" of feeling love.

Beez had already done kind things for him before they gave him The Fly but The Fly and its matchbox are the first ever physical things Gabriel has been given by someone. He has never had any possessions besides his clothes before. He's never been given a gift.

He and Beez go to bars and pubs on their dates; they're surrounded by humans with songs and birthdays and Christmases and going on dates and living a life that involves tangible, physical things that Gabriel is supposed to be above but to which he is drawn.

On the first two dates we see, he and Beez meet up in places but they do not order anything. They do consume the music together and, by the night at The Resurrectionist, they take another step towards engaging more in the human world that they've largely been absorbing and observing together to date. They do so through allowing themselves to be a part of the space, too-- Gabriel miracling the song on the jukebox for Beez-- but also through material objects.

They start ordering stuff. Gabriel is happy to bring Beez something-- buying them beer and a bag of chips/packet of crisps, even if they're undecided on actually consuming them. He makes it clear that he doesn't have any expectations that Beez actually eat or drink anything if they don't want to but the idea is that they have moved to a place where they can see what the humans see in bringing one another things as they move through the world together.

Gabriel has gone from a being who barely knows why he's meeting Beez in this bar to being excited to see them again and happy to buy them a drink and their preferred snack to stare at. Beez is having a ball getting the food-judgy-if-also-food-curious Gabriel to buy them what they've clearly told him he had best call a packet of crisps if he plans on seeing them again. 😂 They have begun to let themselves claim resources for each other and themselves and to start to get less intense about consumption, which are features of recognizing the humanity in one another and themselves.

Gabriel's "oh" moment when he is given The Fly is that this is the first time he knows what it's like to experience the world as a person who has a person who cares about them and has brought them something.

What he means when he says "no one's ever given me anything before" is really "no one's ever thought about me before."

He means no one has ever seen him there-- until Beez did.

The gift of The Fly reminds Gabriel of that and shows him getting used to the new feeling of not being invisible and alone. He falls deeper in love with Beez and sees them more fully in return as well as a result of their gift and that, it could be argued, is what love is.

Love, if it's good, is a lot of "oh" moments-- because you don't fall in love once. You fall over and over again, deeper each time.

The difference between this moment with Gabriel and Beez versus the paralleling one between Crowley and Aziraphale is that, by 1941, our angel, Aziraphale, has known years upon years upon years of being seen by his demon.

(Amusingly, considering the theme of love as recognition, The Serpent is also literally, ya know, um, rather watchful at times. 😂)

Aziraphale is no stranger to Crowley being kind to him or rescuing him from the times he might have blundered, like we all do at times, in trying to do good.

Crowley saving the books in 1941 is absolutely not the first time that he's ever done something as Beez-and-The-Fly-level romantic as this for Aziraphale. In many ways, that's likely the point.

While The Fly was the first time of what will be many that Gabriel experienced what it was to feel loved by feeling seen, Crowley saving Aziraphale's books is a gesture that could not have happened at all without Crowley's long-held, intimate knowledge of Aziraphale as a person.

What makes Crowley saving Aziraphale's books so romantic isn't even just that he knows how important the books are to Aziraphale but that he knows Aziraphale so well that he could predict that the books would need rescuing.

Crowley knew that his angel would only focus on getting the two of them out of the church alive and unharmed and absolutely was going to forget about those beloved books of his while trying to protect them both and then be completely and utterly crushed when he did.

In this way, it's a contrasting parallel to Gabriel and Beez because, while that was the first time Gabriel had ever felt seen, 1941 is time number six trillion and five that Crowley had made Aziraphale feel seen like this and he's now so well-practiced at it that it's old hat at this point.

There is no judgement from Crowley about what happened with the Nazis in any of this. Aziraphale is horrible to himself over things like mistakes like he made in this church and being forgetful about these books but Crowley sees no such need for any of that. He protects Aziraphale from the fallout but in such a way that says he admires Aziraphale for trying to take the actions that he did. He sees Aziraphale as brave and his actions quietly affirm, much in the way that Beez does for Gabriel, that just because they are an angel who is used to doing for others doesn't mean they're not also a person who needs someone to do for them, too, and that Crowley is happy to be that person.

Aziraphale is reminded by Crowley knowing him well enough to anticipate that the books will need to be saved and taking care of that for him that they are a team. That Aziraphale doesn't have to worry about managing everything on his own because he and Crowley help each other manage life. They know each other well and have been together so long that they just know how to take care of one another.

It's not an "oh" of a realization of I'm in love for the first time. It is, as Michael Sheen says, a moment of falling in love. It's an "oh" of having been in love for a very long time and that love still finding new ways to surprise in its ability to keep causing Aziraphale to happily fall deeper and deeper...

This isn't realizing love and it's not the first time that Crowley has done something sweet and romantic like this for him-- it's the power of it being the nine billionth time Crowley has. It's the feeling of "oh" for Aziraphale that is a reminder that he is safe in the knowledge that Crowley knows him, through and through, and when confronted with the most real Aziraphale there is... the one that can be prone to making mistakes out of insecurities and self-doubt... the one that struggles sometimes with self-worth and brutal perfectionism... Crowley knows, sees him there, and is still madly in love with him.

Crowley never sees Aziraphale as weak or lesser for feeling any of it. He loves those sides of Aziraphale because he loves all of Aziraphale. He won't let Aziraphale be embarrassed because he likes and admires him as he is. He's gentle and kind and understanding about Aziraphale's insecurities, treating Aziraphale with the same care that Aziraphale shows him.

Crowley, better than anyone else ever has or will, sees Aziraphale for who Aziraphale truly is.

He loves that angel and his love helps Aziraphale to quiet some of his self-doubts and be a little kinder to himself-- much in the same way that Aziraphale's love does for Crowley. Crowley loving him makes Aziraphale feel like maybe there's a chance that he might be worth loving.

Loving an angel is making them feel seen and Aziraphale, holding those books Crowley rescued for him?

He felt very loved indeed.

The "oh" moment of 1941 is one moment where we see that Aziraphale has just been reminded of just how much Crowley truly sees him there-- and of just how much Crowley loves him. What we are watching, imho, is not the first realization of love but just one of a million different moments throughout history of Aziraphale continuing to fall deeper and deeper in love with Crowley.

[ayyy-imma-ninja]

Hello! :D

I just caught up with your SK au fic and wanted to come say how much I’m enjoying it! Especially the way that you are building up the story and how hints and details are sprinkled around like seeds that are slowly growing as more info is revealed! 

Like first chapter we have some details about the detective that caught my eye and then keep having brief but noteworthy appearances. It is mentioned they have a bad reaction to the smell of tobacco and their discomfort about crowded spaces seems clear from the start, but the way it’s worded does give space to wonder if it’s just general annoyance at it or something more. The small intro of the town I think is pretty effective as well, as I noticed on a reread how it mentions several of the spaces that will become more prominent in the story (obviously the library and amusement park, but also others like the docks, which are linked to the first victim the detective learns of)

Also the introduction of the boys is pretty fun, given that readers preemptively know that they are the killers themselves. Sun in particular pretending he can’t bear the mention of the murders is very funny XD Oh! and I like the detail of his considerable strength being casually mentioned, only for us to later learn through the photos how much force was used to kill Grisham.

(sidenote: absolutely loving the art! the last one in the first chapter where Sun and Moon meet outside the park really establishes an ominous aura about them, and the fact that they share that same-colored blue eye hints towards that unique connection and knowledge about the events they share. Like they are synchronized!)

Then on chapter 2 a small bit that caught my attention was during Moon’s questioning. I also noticed how his answers were pretty much instantaneous, which the detective reasons is because Sun gave him a heads up. But I like how when he was asked when the last time he saw Grisham was, he needs that brief pause to think, because he knows the actual answer, but that’s the one he can’t be truthful about, so he has to review his memory of when he would have seen him before that.

Oh and another detail in this chapter is that the “stern” father like look makes the detective’s stomach churn until they notice the good intent in Powell’s worry. One could chalk it up to just anxiety under the orders of a boss, but the fact that it’s specifically compared to a parental attitude seems significant.

And oof, that torture scene! Pretty brutal despite the fact that most of it seems to have happened offscreen already haha It shows pretty well the absolute hatred the boys hold for rulebreakers and how ready they are to show it. It’s pretty neat how you keep their personalities consistent even during these scenes! They are completely different in a sense, but also exactly the same two brothers as they are in their daily lives.

And aaah chapter 3 was pretty intense! That interview with Mrs. Grisham is so interesting, because just as the detective is capable of piecing together what is left unsaid, the text also allows the reader to start piecing the detective’s possible past as well. Like, there’s all those hints at the alcoholism of Grisham. The twitches in the cheek with the scar are a great pointer at both the detective’s thought process and their likely first hand experience with something like this, and also quite the thing for Mrs. Grisham and the detective to understand one another on some level.

Oh also! I have been following the blog for a while, so I know there have been some hints here about the boys possibly having known the detective before this haha, but I think the text also does a good job of making readers speculate about it, with how Sun and Moon seem instantly attached. And speaking about the boys, my god they like their antics XD They are very theatrical and expressive! I can believe it’s part of how they enjoy expressing themselves, but I definitely wonder if part of it is that making it seem like they are super easy to read and like they wear their hearts on their sleeves is also a good way to divert suspicion from them. Can’t be them if no one believes they could hide a secret like that right?

(other sidenote: The contrast between the detective’s and the brothers’ perspectives is hilarious to me XD The detective: dread, horror, reliving their mysterious trauma at some points. Meanwhile the boys are like: So excited! It’s a bit of a game for them! New player on the board! They look at the detective and it’s like the Smash bros new challenger presentation music accompanies their entrance fkjdhfkj)

Oh and the end of the chapter! Really seeing the kind of personalized punishments they like to dole out. Pretty obvious with Clyde, though I do wonder a bit more what they did specifically for Grisham. Was it using all that force because of how violent he was? The damage to his limbs because of how he used them to hurt his family? hmmmmm

Ooo, and then in chapter 4 we see even more of the detective’s intuition and how sharp it is! They seem very analytical, and are showing their true skills to their coworkers by having the right hunches about the killers’ victims.

Ah, one thing that made me think in this chapter is about the interactions with the boys that the detective has had so far and their reactions to it. They seem to not mind their fussing, because they can see it’s genuine. Though we do see they go back and forth on how they feel about it. There’s a tiny conflict in this chapter regarding that and it does get solved pretty quickly, but I wonder if it’s something that will be a bigger point of conflict down the line, because they might feel they are not being respected as a capable adult. The detective seems like the type of person that finds it difficult to let others take care of them as they are very self-reliant and might even have a negative association to that show of care. On one hand they do seem like they want to allow it to some extent, but on the other they seem to hate it when others underestimate their capabilities, both personal and professional.

And oooh we see a bit more of the boys own struggles! Sun being affected by the topic of vitals makes me wonder if there was one time he was desperately checking for someone’s vitals but found none that time, perhaps. hmmmmm

Then chapter 5 I feel is really where those scattered details are starting to take a more solid shape! We see more signs of the detective’s past’s effect on them. Last chapter we saw them having flashbacks when looking at their reflection and this one we see them avoiding it completely. It seems to be increasingly affecting them, and I can’t help but think that it’s part of that self-inflicting of guilt they keep doing (no doubt acquired from someone in their past).

Ah, the talk with Sun gives a little more insight about some of Moon’s own issues. Him keeping his sense of smell off makes me think it’s likely to avoid nasty surprises from the smell of any kind of smoke (that would make him think of fire) around. Poor detective likely wishes they could do that too oof. Especially because apparently the station constantly smells like it. (By this point, I’m pretty convinced that with their negative instinctual reactions to the smell, their dad was a smoker, and with the other hints about their past we’ve had,  that he was quite a nasty guy. And I already have my prediction of how he died given the timeline of events XD)

But speaking of the detective, we can really see how the more they stay in the town the more frequent these panic episodes are starting to get. That mural and alley seem pretty important, hmmmm. And yikes, poor kid. The detective was having the worst time and he accidentally bumped them at precisely the worst moment. I have a feeling that will come up again, since he’s a kid that goes to Sun’s reading circle, and there’s no way the detective isn’t going back to the library at some point. Hopefully the detective gets to say that apology they wanted but couldn’t get out.

Ahhh I’ve rambled a lot already, but just wanted to mention a couple more things! 

Chief Powell seems to also treat the detective a bit carefully. I remember he read their file, so I gotta wonder how much he knows. The fact that he’s not handing them all the files does seem to come from a well meaning place, but it likely makes the detective feel babied and they do not appreciate it. Like they are not being taken seriously or are being treated like they’re made of crystal. (Which I can see as a contrast from the way they accept care from a human to how they do with the boys, but also both instances mixing in a bad way that might make them snap.)

And the last bit about the boys! Haha, poor Moon really does not get an advantage in where he is stationed regarding opportunities to interact with y/n hfdkljhf I’m guessing the little game they were referring to is sending the detective to one another, but y/n does seem to be a bit done with that XD It’s also interesting (and definitely points to the possibility that the brothers know them from before) that Moon reflects how they both know very well how much the detective hates crowd spaces, confirming what the beginning of the first chapter implied. It could seem like observation, but they seem way too familiar with that fact for it to be just that. Hmmmmmm!

But aaaa that’s all I got! Fantastic fic (and art! ) so far! It’s noticeable how much research and effort has been put in this story! Very excited to see what comes next and how the tension will rise! I offer more kudos here since AO3 won’t allow it!

Friend when I say that while reading this analysis I was grinning like an absolute idiot- /vpos

THANK YOOOOOOU!!!!

You've picked up on so many subtle details and that has me feeling really excited and a little proud!! This was a really accurate dissection of the story and its characters!!

AAAAAAAA thank u again for this!!!

[thelostpretzel]

hello!! i just wanted to pop in and say that i really really love your ocs, their designs are all so fun and creative!!!!! esp the heroes of the city waow :00 also deeply interested in whatever lore they have so if you ever feel like dropping crumbs,,, *hands outstretched*

*cracks knuckles* thank you for asking dear stranger i would love to ramble about my children (the?) Heroes of the City (sorry, I still don't understand how article THE works) is a story in the genre of LitRPG (like literature + RPG or manhwas/novells about rankers) and it's about Players who are trying to save The Sentient (?) City from self-destruction (or help it destroy itself if a Player feels like hating the world) so the main cast is Eki (she/them) aka The Leviathan Slayer aka The Hero she smol she kind she could kill a god if this god is a threat to her found family but only if said god is a physical threat she is a beating pillow for every morally gray/black character in The City and will never win against charismatic-based villain (she's very naive and soft hearted and everybody uses it)

Black Silver (she/her) aka The Witch or The City's Shadow

the hottest and the deadliest villain of The City and i have nothing else to say

Rex (he/them) aka [data deleted]

he is one of The City creators and his main mission is to be a threat to his ex-soulmate - Black Silver who is actively destroying The City

they are the Most Toxic Couple of the project and i feel terror every time i think about them

Little Box (she/her) aka [???]

i don't know what she is and i'm lowkey scared to know so she's just vibin' here and there (i think she's dead)

Coffee Fox (he/him) aka The Keeper aka The Guardian

a barista of a tiny coffee shop and The Retired King of The City

he brings comfort and love to every Hero but can only watch The City fall because he's forever locked in his coffee shop

Magnolia (she\her) and Glitches (they\them) aka The Healer/The Parasite

ah yes a cool badass parasite with no morale compass and an absolutely miserable host with terrible anxiety disorder i love it (Glitches also often flirts with The Bitch i mean with the guy who is hated by the whole City and Magnolia lives in constant fear because of it)

Midas (he/him) aka The Bitch i mean The Cursed King

The Bitch of The City (and he's fucking rich and hot too i hate him so fucking much i don't even draw him consistently WHYYYYYYYYYYY)

anyway

Adam (the fuck/that) aka The Emptiness

the mute horror of the City (he likes Little Box and Magnolia though)

aaaaaand the last one

42 aka Zwai (man/failure)

he's just funny little guy with horrible medicine trauma and a cat

thats it thank you

[ripdragonbeans]

Not Him, I Swear // Modern!Aegon x Reader // Pt. 3

Summary: You go on your second date with Aegon and it ends up being much more fun that you anticipated.

CW: afab reader, profanity, eventual smut, Aegon being an ass, oh but he has feelings??????

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4

The next few days were filled with cute texts and fluffy dates. Aegon respected your wishes and didn't push you to go any further than a make out session. It drove you crazy; you wanted him but you were scared. As much as you wanted to forget all the pain Jason caused you, it was something that stayed. It tainted your views of love, something that can be hard to make new. 

Aegon seemed too good to be true.

But you swallowed your fears and pushed on with your relationship with him. 

“Hey, man!” Cregan strolled into the room. “How's our bet going? Is she begging for you yet?” He plopped himself down next to Aegon and put his feet on the table.

Aegon rolled his eyes. “Shut up,” he murmured. “No, she's not begging yet, but I'll get there.” He ran his hand through his hair and sighed. “Gods, I almost feel bad.”

Cregan’s eyebrow rose. “Bad? Don't tell me that my best friend is actually catching feelings for someone.”

“No, I'm not catching feelings for anyone.” Aegon got up to grab another beer; his third one already, and it was barely noon.

“The way you talk about her says differently.”

“I haven't talked about her.”

“Not obviously, of course. At any mention of the bet or anything, you tense up. Something’s going on in that head.”

“Whatever, Cregan,” Aegon muttered. “Since you're so focused on annoying me, I'm gonna go to my room.” He gave his friend a mocking wave before leaving the living room to his own.

He put his head in his hands and let out a groan. He couldn't be catching feelings, he shouldn't be falling for her. But he is. 

The way she smiles. The way her eyes light up. The way she tucks her hair behind her ear. It's like looking into a bright light and being engulfed in its warmth. 

But he had to do this. He needed to prove that he could have anyone he wanted. If not to himself, then to his friend. As shallow as it was, he wanted to follow through. He hoped she wouldn't hate him in the end. 

“Hel, I really can't believe it,” you gushed. “I know you said not to get too involved with him but he's already so much better than Jason!” 

You plopped down on the couch, closed your eyes, and stretched. The wonderful feeling of being loved say well inside your heart. Despite the aching fears and the anxiety that comes along after being cheated on, the feeling of being loved triumphed ever just a tiny bit. 

“I wouldn't go ahead and say that, bestie. Please, be on your guard. You know all the stories, all the rumors, and I can even testify for some of them.” Helaena held your hands and looked you in the eye. “Be careful, please.”

A voice came from the hallway. “Yeah, what she said.” Jace walked over to the two of you sitting on the couch. He wore a grim expression on his face. “I don't mean to hurt you but I've heard that he's just trying to get you to sleep with him, all for some bet.”

Your heart sank at the thought but you pushed it aside.

“Very funny, Jace,” you said. “But I don't need that negativity in my life.”

“It's not negativity if it's true.” He looked at you with pity in his eyes. 

You shook off the expression and took a deep breath. “Why can't you two just be happy for me?” 

Helaena squeezed the hand she was holding. “We're happy for you, we just want you to be careful. We hate to see you hurt.”

“It's a risk, isn't it? All relationships are. I know Aegon and I will either end up together forever or eventually break up. It's up to us, not you two, but me and Aegon, how bad that ending will be.”

Helaena huffed. “Okay, I'll drop it. For now.”

You smiled at her. “Thank you.” You turned to address both Jace and Helaena. “Now, would you two like to know what's happening next?”

“As hesitant as I am, yes,” Helaena said. 

Jace nodded his head in agreement.

You pulled out your phone to read the text messages between you and Aegon.

“Our next date is a movie!” You announced.

There was a beat of silence before Jace broke it. “A movie? Isn't that a little cliche?”

You frowned at him. “Shut up, it's something.”

“What movie are you guys gonna catch?” Helaena cut in. 

“Oh! Um…” you bowed your head in embarrassment and mumbled your answer.

“I'm sorry? What was that?” Jace leaned in. A knowing smirk graced his lips.

You mumbled your answer again, but a little louder.

“Bestie, I still can't hear you!” 

“Shrek 2.” 

You look up in shame. The judgment you feel from them was too much.

“...I'm sorry, did you just say Shrek 2?” Clarified Jace.

“It's the best one!”

Helena laughed. “Considering it's you and Aegon, it makes sense. Weird choice, but yeah.” She clapped her hands together. “Okay, time to get you date ready!”

“‘Date ready?’ Hel, I’ve got five hours until I have to leave. I have time.”

“For what I have planned for you? Nope, five hours is just enough time for me and Jace to get you set.”

Jace froze hearing his name. “Me? What do I have to do?”

“Shut up, you're moral support,” Helaena rolled her eyes in amusement. “Now, let's go.”

Helaena offered you her hand but you hesitated slightly. What if this is just a plot to convince you to not go? But when you looked at your friends all you could see was the love they had for you.

“Alright, let's get this started,” you smiled.

Four hours later had you sitting in a chair with your back straight and a mirror behind you. 

“Annnnnd done!” Helaena turned your chair around so you could see yourself.

You took in the image, your hair all done nicely, your facial features enhanced, all of it. You couldn't help the smile that made its way.

“Helaena,” you started, “my gods, you did an amazing job!” 

You turned toward Jace, who was sitting on the arm of the couch. 

“Yeah,” he said between handfuls of chips, “you look great. Aegon is gonna shit himself.” 

“I don't know about that,” you rolled your eyes. “He's been with a shit ton of other girls before me, I doubt I'm the prettiest.”

A hand smacked your head. 

“No. You're the hottest he's ever been with and will only be with for the rest of your lives.”

“Wow, and I thought you were dead set on me not being with him.”

“Only to protect you! But,” she sighed, “if this is how it goes then he better not break your heart. He does that. I'll chop up his dick in his sleep.”

“Yeah, and I'll fuck up his face,” Jace added.

You laughed at your friends, your heart full. “You two are so extra.”

“It's called being best friends,” Jace said as he joined you and Helaena at the mirror. 

Looking at the three of you, you thought of all the trials you've been through. All the heartbreak, the laughs, the highs and the lows. Without them who knows what you would be like. You interlocked your hands with both of them and leaned back.

“I don't know what I did to deserve you guys, but I'm grateful for you two and love you.”

Beep beep!

The sound of the honking car was quickly followed by a text. You picked up your phone and couldn't stop the smile. Of course Aegon would do this. As you readied yourself to leave the apartment, you did one last look in the mirror. 

You were happy with how you looked; all dolled up for the date. Just enough to be enticing but not so much in your face. With a pep in your step, you made your way to the front door. 

Aegon’s eyes went wide when he saw you. “You look…”

You nodded for him to continue.

“Amazing. You look amazing.” Aegon flashed you a big smile.

“You don't look too bad yourself,” you replied as you got in the car.

Aegon’s car was messy but it could be a lot worse. Luckily the trash wasn't food trash but rather random papers and receipts that were strewn across the floor and the back seat. It also smelled vaguely of weed.

“You smoke?” You asked him.

Aegon pulled out of the driveway. “Yeah, and I vape every now and then if I want a flavor or something. You?” 

“I've been curious about it but no, I haven't done either.”

“Wanna try? We can pull over and I can roll you a joint.”

A smile crept onto your face. There were butterflies in your stomach but you were excited to take the plunge.

Once Aegon pulled over into an unmarked parking lot, he pulled out the weed, the paper, and lighter. He was careful to roll the joint nicely for you. Once he finished he looked at his work and gave you a smile. “Ta-da! One joint rolled for my kitten.”

“Okay, cool. I can do this.” You told yourself.

Aegon looked at you with concern. “You don't have to smoke if you don't want to.”

“No, but I really want to.”

“Okay.” He nodded his head. “I'll light it. Then all you have to do is inhale through your mouth, hold it for a bit then exhale through your mouth. Simple.”

“Simple. Right.”

“Okay, here we go.”

Aegon lit it then brought the joint up to your mouth. You gently wrapped your lips around the tip and you did as he said. 

Inhale.

You felt the smoke fill your mouth.

Hold.

You let it sit and go down your throat.

Exhale.

A puff of smoke flew out of your mouth.

As a calming sensation sprinkled through your body you have Aegon a relaxed smile.

“You feeling okay?” Aegon asked you 

You laughed a bit. “Yeah, I feel good.”

Aegon took a drag from the joint himself. “Wanna get high before we watch the movie?”

“Hell yeah.”

Before heading off to the movie theater, you and Aegon shared the joint. It didn't take long for you to get high but Aegon finished it off. He was careful not to get higher than just having a buzz since he was driving. The rest of the ride was filled with you babbling about everything and nothing. Aegon smiled and let you go on. 

Arriving at the theater, you let out a little giggle. “I'm so excited for this, Aegon.” You slurred his name.

“Yeah.” He couldn't stop himself from smiling at you. Getting out of the car, he circled around to open the passenger door. “Time to get out, kitten.”

You giggled again. “I like that you call me kitten. It's cute and it kinda turns me on.”

Aegon gulped down a breath. “That's great; time to see the movie.”

Letting go of Aegon’s hand, you put both of yours on his chest. “I wanna be with you.”

He pushed your hands down and kept them firmly in his. Aegon looked you in the eye. “And we will but not like this. I want you to be sober when I take you.”

You huffed. “Okay.”

Finally getting you to step out of the car, Aegon went back to only holding one hand as he led you through the parking lot and into the theater.

“Mmm I want popcorn and an Icee,” you said as soon as you walked in. The smell of popcorn immediately surrounded you.

“I'll get you popcorn and a water,” Aegon said.

You stamped your foot. “But I want an Icee!”

He tugged on your hand to get you to look at him. “Kitten, you need water. Trust me, okay?”

“Okay.” Another giggle escaped you.

After buying popcorn and water, Aegon led the way to your numbered theater to watch Shrek 2. At first you wanted to sit up front but he pulled you away to the rows in the back.

“No one needs to know you're high,” he said as you made your way up the stairs. 

“But you know I'm high,” you observed.

“I'm the one that got you high, kitten.”

“Oh, yeah.”

As you sat down in your chair, all you could think about was getting as close to Aegon as possible. Thankfully, these were the newer, fancier theater chairs. You reclined your chair and moved the armrest out of the way so you could lean on Aegon.

“You and popcorn,” you said as you snuggled up to him. “The best combination ever.”

“Don't forget Shrek.”

“And Shrek.”

Aegon kissed the top of your head as the lights went down and the movie began.

While Shrek 2 was already one of the funniest moments of all time, watching it high made it even funnier.

“Prince Charming looks like Jason,” you whispered, eyes wide. “I bet his dick is small like Jason’s, too.”

Aegon choked on his water. He stole a look at you but all he saw was a girl high as fuck while watching Shrek 2. Gods, he wanted to kiss you then and there.

The movie continued with your constant one liners about how everything in Shrek related to something or someone in your life. Somehow you were Shrek, Fiona was Aegon (which he was happy about), Donkey was Helaena, and Puss in Boots was Jace. To you, it all made sense. To Aegon, it was simply blabbering that entertained him.

As the credits rolled on the screen, you lolled your head against Aegon’s shoulder once again. “I’m tired, Aeg.”

“You’re coming down from your high, kitten,” he assured you. “Time to get up and head home.”

“I don’t wanna move.” You slunk down in your seat.

Aegon laughed. “They’re gonna kick us out anyway if you don’t get up. What if I helped you?”

You held out both arms. “Yes, please.”

Aegon moved to stand in front of you to pull you up. Instead of letting go, however, he tucked you into his side. Together, you made your way out of the movie theater.

“Can we go to your place?” you asked him as he pulled out of the parking lot.

“No, I’m going to drop you off at my sister’s.”

All of a sudden you wanted to cry. “Why? Do you not like me?”

“That’s not it. You’re high and I’m going to take care of you.”

Your mood instantly switched. “I’d love for you to take care of me.” Heat began pooling in your belly while you placed a hand on his thigh.

Reluctantly, Aegon moved your hand off of him. “Not like that. I’m going to be responsible this one time and take you back to Helaena’s.”

“Come on, be irrisp, irrrrsp, irrisponble this one time.”

“If you want to be in my bed you’re going to have to be sober, kitten.”

You crossed your arms. “Boo, you’re no fun.”

“I know, what a bore.” He turned into the driveway. “Time to go.” He walked over to your side to open the door and walk you to the front. “I loved tonight.”

“I love you too, Aegon,” you yawned.

Aegon stopped, stunned. “I think you mean you loved tonight.”

You hummed. “No, I love you.”

He nodded his head, mouth slightly agape, as he took you Helaena’s room. When he knocked on the door Helaena popped out.

Her eyes instantly went to you, leaning all your weight on Aegon. “What did you do?!”

Aegon shrugged. “She wanted to get high so I let her. I only got buzzed but she is definitely high.”

“Yeah, I can see that.”

“It’s loud,” you moaned. “And bright.”

“Gods, get her in here.” Helaena motioned for Aegon to bring you into the room.

Immediately, you went for the bed and flopped down. Aegon was careful as he tucked you in. Helanea watched in awe of how sweet he was being to you. As soon as you drifted off to sleep, Helaena took Aegon into the hallway to talk.

“Have you been like this all night?” she questioned.

“You mean like the wonderful gentleman I am? Yes.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you being so kind to her?”

He shrugged. “What can I say, Hel. I like her.”

“No, when you like girls you just charm them and then fuck them. This is the second date you’ve gone on with her. Something is up.”

Aegon ran his hand down his face. “Let me do this, just once, let me be the good guy.”

Helaena looked at him warily. “Fine. But if you do anything to hurt her, I will personally destroy your life.”

[paulyenvol6]

Bound by Flame (Chapter 13)

Contains: Fluff, anxiety, crying

Wordcount: ~2.76k

Masterlist of this story

The next day Daemon had to attend a council meeting early in the morning and Maera found it to be a good sign. Maybe her father would give all of this a chance after all.

She was still a little whiny after last night's escalation but her husband had given her a goodbye-kiss and told her that he loved her and so Maera planned not to think about it any longer.

For breakfast she ate some bread and fruit in her chambers and was delighted to have her sepa Julvra join her. It was marvelous to catch up with her and in this moment Maera realized how stupid she was as a child to not understand what a wonderful and kind person she was. How often had she complained about taking her lessons and made the septa's life hell though she only ever wanted the best for her.

It was an interesting and fun breakfast as they spoke about her son Baelon, motherhood and every significant event that had happened in both their lives the past year and then Julvra excused herself explaining that "the library doesn't clean itself out".

Maera joyfully smiled to herself until her cheeks hurt and felt so at peace that she wished to run to Daemon at once and thank him for making them move back to king's landing. Here she had her father, her septa, her brother (once he would return from his tour) and the castle she had grown up in. What more could she want?

The girl whistled a melody while tidying up her room and was so deep in her thoughts that she didn't hear the knocking at first. Once she did she swiftly turned around to look at the door. It wasn't Daemon as he surely wouldn't knock, Maera thought.

"Come!" she eventually shouted and the seconds later the door opened. It was Harwin Strong standing in the corridor and her heart sank in her legs only that unlike yesterday it was from feeling frightened.

"W-What are you doing here?" she asked and hurried towards him.

"I'm here to take you on the walk through the gardens that we talked about."

No, no, no. This was bad. Very bad. Daemon would return to their chambers any minute and if he caught her with him again… She didn't even want to think about it. He had to leave as quickly as possible.

"I-I can't, I'm sorry, please, you have to leave," she stammered, pushing him out of the room lightly, her usual good manners notwithstanding.

Ser Harwin looked confused but Maera didn't pay attention to it right now. All she could think about was Daemon's look the other night, his clenched fists, his face drawn with fury and not a spark of softness or mercy in his cold eyes. He couldn't witness this, not again. He couldn't see him here. Maera was so scared of the thought that her eyes started to fill with tears and she nervously and desperately stared up to Harwin who furrowed his forehead. Then reached out to take her hand but she immediately pulled away.

"Little princess, what is it? Did something happen? Have I done something to offend you?"

He couldn't call her that name, gods what should she do now?

"Please, ser. Please, you have to leave at once. I-I can't – "

The knight examined her worriedly and to her regret made no move to step back.

"Maera. Please talk to me! What are you so upset about?"

Maera anxiously looked around for Daemon and then pleadingly glared up to Harwin.

"You have to go. M-My husband… He doesn't want me t-to… spend time with you. Please, I can't talk to you any longer."

Maera watched his face harden under her lashes and then he made another step towards her which was exactly what she hadn't wanted to happen.

"What? You must be jesting."

She shook her head and took a step back to bring more distance between them. Her heart was beating fast and she wished that Harwin would just go now. Daemon would come back soon and he just had to be gone by then.

"Please Harwin," she begged. "He doesn't allow it and he will be mad if I spend more time with you. Please, he won't like seeing me speak to you."

She had expected him to finally understand and follow her pleas but she couldn't have been more off. Instead Harwin straightened up and looked rather angry.

"I can't believe this! It is not his place to forbid you to whom you may speak! I merely wanted to take you on a stroll." He scoffed. "But what was I to expect from the rogue prince?"

Maera exhaled loudly, praying to all the gods that something had come up in her husband's schedule and he wouldn't come back until the noon but then suddenly she heard fast steps and then Daemon Targaryen turned around a corner.

'Fuck,' she thought and wished she could be swallowed by the ground beneath her. This was terrible and Maera absolutely didn't want to get punished again like the day before.

Once Daemon noticed the man by the door his eyes narrowed and his body tensed. With steps so slow that it almost looked scary and dangerous he approached the two of them and Maera instantly dropped her gaze and anxiously entangled her fingers. Daemon on the other hand straightened up before Ser Harwin who seemed furious himself.

"There he is then. We were just talking about you and your improper behaviour. You do know that she is the princess and I believe that a princess is allowed to spend her time the way she wishes to."

Daemon took a step forward and for a moment a trace of fear was visible on the knight's face.

"She is my wife. And I can do as I see fit with my wife."

His voice sounded so incredibly quiet and threatening that it made Maera shiver.

"Your wife should be allowed to go on a stroll with an old friend of hers. And she should be allowed to see whoever it is she wants to."

Daemon flared his nostrils. "You, my dear friend should keep yourself out of other people's businesses. I'm telling you right now, you will never approach my wife ever again. You will never ask her anything, never deliver her any messages or accompany her anywhere."

Harwin scoffed and Maera just wished he would take her husband seriously. For his own sake.

"With all due respect, my prince, this is insane. I'm a knight, sworn to the Targaryen family. I am meant to protect the princess."

"Oh so it is protection that you offer. You were just talking about being an old friend of hers. Which one is it now?"

Daemon watched him provocatively.

"This is absolutely ridiculous," Harwin shouted sounding more furiously now. "Maera can go on a fucking walk without getting your permission. I will take her now."

Daemon came even closer to him now and slightly towered him.

"Oh but she needs my permission. Because she is my wife and therefore has to obey me. And if I forbid her to talk to you, which I did, she will be a good girl and follow my instructions. And you have to come to terms with it as well. Because it is in my fucking hands to decide. And I decide that you will not take her now," he hissed and Harwin finally seemed to understand the gravity of the situation.

He grinded his teeth and seemingly wished to murder Daemon with his gaze but then took another step back.

"This is sick," he spitted but turned around. "You're flying closer to the gods than to men. Forbidding the princess to see her old friends who merely intended to check on her…," he growled but finally walked away.

Once he was out of sight Maera finally slowly lifted her gaze and nervously looked up to her husband. His eyes were still spitting fire and his mouth was stiff. Without saying a word Daemon entered the chambers and closed the door behind him. His niece was feeling so desperate and helpless that she ran towards him at once and pleadingly looked him in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I-I… I didn't mean to, I was telling him to leave. Please uncle, I swear this to you, I didn't want him here. I pushed him away and refused to go on that stroll with him, please, believe me."

She tightly grabbed his hand, trying anything to make him trust her. Maera was scared what he would do now. He had been so angry last night and now he had just seen her speak to the very same man again. What if he would punish her again, spank her or force his cock down her throat?

She would've expected him to remove her hands. Or push her away. Or even slap her. But no, he didn't.

Instead to her surprise Daemon ran his thumb over the skin of her hands and his eyes even slightly softened up.

"Come here."

Maera almost couldn't believe it when her uncle pulled her body to his chest and gently pressed her against it. His arms protectively enveloped her and he started to caress the back of her head slowly.

"I'm so proud of you, my sweet girl," he murmured while kissing her temple. "You did so well and obeyed me so wonderfully."

Feeling so incredibly relieved, Maera cried out and her hands tugged at his shirt as if she tried to show him her gratitude that way. Daemon chuckled inaudibly and his niece could feel the vibrations going through her whole body.

"Don't cry, sweetling. There's no reason to cry. I'm not angry at you. At Ser Harwin…? Yes. But not you, little one."

He kissed her hair lovingly and then proudly looked down at her. "I know that you pushed him away and tried to make him leave and that's why I'm really pleased with you. You listened to me and you were compliant."

Maera really wanted to see his face now so she heaved her head that had leaned against his chest to search for his eyes.

"I-I want to be good."

Her uncle caressed her cheek. "I know you do."

"I love you, Daemon."

She placed her hands on his chest and stood on her tiptoes in order to reach his lips. Then she attempted to kiss the prince but he tilted his head a little so Maera let out a disapproving moan.

"Please…," she whispered and Daemon observed her amused.

After waiting a few more seconds he finally took her face in both of his hands and pressed his lips on hers.

~~~~~~~~~~

In the afternoon Maera had yet another opportunity to rejoice.

The ships with their staff finally arrived and therefore she was reunited with her son again. She and her husband waited at the bay to welcome the passengers and when Maera spotted Baelon in Lylith's arms she let out a high-pitched squeak and couldn't help herself and ran towards the wet nurse.

"My babyboy!" she called out and took her son from Lylith's arms to cradle him while pressing countless kisses on his head.

"My sweet sweet boy… How are you, my love?"

Of course she didn't expect an answer from the babe but Maera spent some time sweet-talking to her son until she gave him to Daemon who proudly held him.

"Someone's getting stronger every day, mhm?"

Soon her father actually also made his way down to the bay and this gesture alone warmed Maera's heart. With a wide smile she presented her son to her father and seeing how his eyes fluttered she felt hopeful.

"Father, I want you to meet Baelon."

Viserys took the babe from his mother's arms and carefully placed him in his own. When the corner of his mouth slightly lifted a weight dropped off Maera's heart.

"Baelon…," he mumbled and almost held the babe as if he was made out of glass.

"He's strong," he then stated and Maera had to laugh. "Yeah. He is."

She watched her father for a while who seemed utterly stunned with getting to know his grandson and then he returned the babe to Maera with glossy eyes.

"He's mesmerizing," Viserys said, his voice barely more than a breath.

She felt her eyes wettening as well and then the group of people started to make their way back to the castle. For the first time since their arrival Maera found that her father actually seemed at peace and fully relaxed. There was a softness to him that didn't even vanish when he found himself next to his brother. That was why Maera finally started to see some hope for a healthy relationship between her husband and father.

Viserys had more time to get to know his grandson during the afternoon tea where the whole family sat in the gardens while Baelon rested on the king's lap. Maera hadn't seen her father that playful and childish in years and it made her feel a warmth in her belly. Viserys cradled the babe and made faces to make him laugh while his daughter and Daemon exchanged an amused glance.

But soon Baelon seemingly got tired because he started to cry so a wet nurse was called to bring the child to Maera's chambers. That left the king with nothing to do but to shift his attention to the remaining two members of his family and he let his eyes wander between them. To Maera's relief her father still seemed quite relaxed and crossed his legs while exhaling.

"He is indeed a beautiful boy. Does he have a dragon egg?"

Daemon nodded. "It hasn't hatched yet but it hopefully will soon."

"Good."

Viserys lowered his gaze and for a moment everyone went about their own thoughts until the king cleared his throat again.

"Aegon will be back soon. He is in Duskendale at the moment. It will only take him a maximum of three days."

These news truly excited his daughter and he squeezed his hand while smiling.

"That's wonderful to hear. Do you know if he has been successful?"

"I doubt it. At least none of the ravens that he sent mentioned any woman." He sighed. "He is a helpless case… Everyone bores him and I think if he had the choice he would stay locked in the library all day. That's not the behaviour of a future king…"

It almost sounded as if Viserys was mumbling the words to himself and he thoughtfully looked in the sky.

"Your grandfather, daughter, was seriously worried about my development as a child. And don't even get me started on your grandmother."

Viserys glanced at his brother and chuckled quietly.

"She thought that Daemon was the one who should wear the crown. I was too quiet, too slow and not ambitious enough. I don't think a day passed when she didn't wish it was Daemon who was her first born son."

"Your exaggerating, brother," Daemon scoffed but Viserys shook his head laughing.

"No, no. I heard it out of her mouth countless times. But I'm not mad about it, truly not. She had a favourite son and at least she didn't try to hide it. That way I never had to rack my brains over it."

Viserys took a sip of his wine and then leaned back in his chair.

"But now I want to learn more about your time… gone."

There was a short uncomfortable pause where Daemon and Maera exchanged a brief look and the king lifted his eyebrows.

"You haven't told me about the whole of it yet. How was your pregnancy, my daughter? What did you do on dragonstone all these weeks and months?"

His daughter sighed and straightened up in her chair.

"The pregnancy went very well. The last weeks were hard because I could barely leave my chambers and my back hurt terribly but…" She smiled at her husband.

"Daemon helped me and kept me compayn whenever he was able to."

The rogue prince returned the smile and rested his hand on top of hers.

"She was truly incredible," he said quietly.

Viserys watched the interaction with an unreadable look on his face but then collected himself.

"I'm glad everything went well. Really glad."

"Thank you father," Maera answered.

She couldn't wipe this stupid smiled off her face the whole afternoon. Were things finally going well for once in her life?

~~~~~~~~~~

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