#I will be able to do everything in my own time and wherever I want to

[the-mehlwurm]

IN ONLY 2.5 DAYS MY PARENTS WILL BE GONE I AM VERY HAPPY

[thegracefullion]

10 Generations. 10 Different Heroines. 1 Legacy. Welcome to the Literary Heroine Legacy Challenge! I’ve been itching for a good legacy to revive my love for the Sims 4, and I haven’t found one so I wrote one myself.  I was inspired after reading Emma— the family dynamics, drama, and romance were everything I ever wanted in a Sims challenge. So I modernized the stories and adapted them to fit this game.  Special shoutout to Designergirl81, who I met through MissLollypopSims’ Discord! The generations of Anne of Avonlea and Dorothy were their brainchildren. 💗 I designed each generation to reference a famous literary heroine. This is a very story-oriented challenge but feel free to bend, tweak, and change as much as you can! Sims Challenges aren’t meant to limit your fun. 😉 TL;DR: Play your own way while letting these rules guide your storytelling! The official tag of the challenge is #TheLiteraryHeroineChallengeTS4. Have fun! Check out the rules here or keep reading!

Basic Rules

Play on any life span you want but I recommend playing on Normal life span.

You are encouraged to play with female heirs. Of course, this is optional!

You are discouraged from using money cheats. Some generations have stories that are related to their social class— so try to stay true to the story as much as you can.

You can live wherever you want unless the generation states otherwise.

Feel free to customize each generation’s race and sexual orientation

Unless specifically stated, each generation has to finish their aspiration and career.

Even if most of these books are classics, I wrote this with a more modern take on it. You don’t need any mods or CC to fit the eras’ aesthetics— but if you want to, you totally can!

⭐ means there’s a recommended mod for this!

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Generation 1: Elizabeth Bennett 📚 Do not consider me now as an elegant female, intending to play you, but as a rational creature, speaking the truth from her heart. 📚

It is a truth, universally acknowledged, that all Sims 4 challenges must start with an heir. In this case, that’s you, which is surprising because everyone else in your life has decided that you are plain, especially when compared to your other two sisters. Lately though, you start to sense that you’ve been getting more attention from your neighbors. One particular Sim hasn’t been able to leave you and your family alone… and you don’t like them at all, not one bit. Well… maybe just a bit.

Aspiration: Successful Lineage 

Traits: Family Oriented, Hot-Headed, Bookworm OR choose/roll for the last trait

Career: Journalist

→ Master the Writing skill. → Live in a rundown family home passed down by your parents with two sisters until you are married. → Have a negative relationship with a neighbor. → Reject a proposal from your work boyfriend. → Build a relationship with your neighbor after you reject the proposal of your ex. → Have a scandal involving one of your sisters that your neighbor supports you through. → Fall in love and marry this neighbor then move in with him. → Have two children.

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Generation 2: Emma Woodhouse 💗  It is very difficult for the prosperous to be humble.  💗

Growing up, you were always the sheltered one. Your father was very protective of you, and therefore never let you out of his sight. Of course, that didn’t stop you from becoming well-loved by the entire town. You were known for throwing the best dinner parties and befriending everyone your father and mother knew. Needless to say, this got to your head a bit. You weren’t arrogant, you were confident. In everyone’s eyes, you could do no wrong. Well, everyone except your childhood best friend— who was never afraid to call you out for being a bit clueless at times. 

Aspiration: Neighborhood Confidante OR Party Animal

Traits: Self-Assured, High Maintenance, Music-Lover OR choose/roll for the last trait

Career: Romance Consultant or Lawyer

→ Master the Charisma and Piano skills. → Host at least 5 gold-star dinners. → Have a childhood best friend who’s a bit older than you. For example: When you’re 17 (end of teenage years), they’re already 20 (start of young adult years). * → You can’t have good friends who are your age until your childhood best friend ages up into a young adult. → Make a new friend that you treat like a “project” until you two fall out. Choose if you two will reconcile in the future. → Profess your love to your childhood best friend during a heated argument. → Marry your best friend and live with your mother and father in your childhood home until your parents die. Have one child. *It goes without saying to only get with your childhood best friend when the two sims are both young adults 🙂 No super uncomfortable age gaps, please.

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Generation 3: Scarlett O’Hara ✨ “Tomorrow, I’ll think of some way to get him back.” ✨ All your life, you grew up spoiled. Your mother and father were so in love, and you almost expected to have a story as romantic and easy as theirs. However, when your high school flame elopes quickly with someone else right after graduation, you start to spiral. No longer able to get things your way, you begin to self-sabotage and jump from relationship to relationship. Deep down you know you should stop and smarten up but frankly, my dear, you don’t give a damn.

Aspiration: Soulmate— you fail this 

Traits: Materialistic, Genius, Jealous OR choose/roll for the last trait

Career: None until your divorce then become a Manual Laborer + Barista

⭐ Recommended Mods: Healthcare Redux Mod, Extreme Violence Mod

→ Don’t master any skill. → Have a high school flame who elopes with someone else. → Elope immediately with someone else. Have them die tragically.* → Marry another person quickly who you have bad compatibility with. Get negative romance with them right before they pass.* → Marry a third time. Have them catch you in a compromising moment with your high school flame, which leads to a divorce that leaves you with nothing. → End up working two part time jobs to keep your household running. → Have 4 kids with your 3 husbands (you can cheat for twins, if you want). *You decide how they die. I recommended having mods like the Healthcare Redux and Extreme Violence in your game for realistic roleplay reasons— but if he gets tragically eaten by a Cowplant that works too! 🙂

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Generation 4: Jo March 🧾 “When the first soreness was over, she could laugh at her poor little book, yet believe in it still, and feel herself the wiser and stronger for the buffeting she had received.” 🧾 Growing up was not easy for you. Your childhood was incredibly unpredictable with your mother jumping from relationship-to-relationship. And when things started to stabilize emotionally, you ended up in poverty.  Luckily, you had your siblings to cling to, and a passion for writing that’s unmatched. You wrote a ton of things across different genres, except for romance which you didn’t quite understand. In fact, everyone always expected you to be a little woman, not rough or wild, but you knew in your heart that’s not what you were destined to become.

Aspiration: Best-Selling Author

Traits: Creative, Unflirty, and Ambitious OR choose/roll for the last trait

Career: Author

⭐ Recommended Mods: Writing Career Overhaul, SNB Banking

→ Master the Writing and Logic skills. → Be best friends with all of your siblings. → Start selling short stories as a teenager to help pay the bills. → Get a best friend in high school who professes their love to you during graduation. Turn them down. Optional: Have them marry one of your other siblings. → Move away to the city to focus on your writing. Always send 30% of your income to your mother until she dies. → Due to a tragedy in the family, adopt a child of one of your siblings.* → Win a Starlight Accolade for one of your novels. → Never marry but live a fulfilling life. *They are to be the next heir to preserve the bloodline. You can adopt more if you want.

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Generation 5: Anne Shirley 📖 “I believe the nicest and sweetest days are not those on which anything very splendid or wonderful or exciting happens but just those that bring simple little pleasures, following one another softly, like pearls slipping off a string.” 📖 You were adopted by your aunt and lived a happy childhood. Despite being surrounded by family drama, you never let it dampen your spirit. You struggled with social cues and caused mayhem wherever you went— of course, that never stopped you from making your voice heard. You were, afterall, raised by someone who was never afraid to make a point. However, unlike your aunt, you always longed for romance. You always imagined big declarations of passion— but perhaps it’s time to learn that love creeps to one's side like an old friend through quiet ways.

Aspiration: Academic OR Soulmate

Traits: Romantic, Socially Awkward, and Loyal OR choose/roll for the last trait

Career: Education Career

⭐ Recommended Mod: Education Overhaul

→ Master the Research and Debate skill. → Have a childhood enemy that you become best friends with in high school. → Go to University and study Language and Literature. → Fall out with your best friend while in University. → Start dating someone you meet in University but break up right after graduation. → Get a job in the Education Career and write on the side. → Reconnect with your former best friend and realize you love them. → Get married to your best friend. → Retire from the Education career and become a freelance writer in your twilight years.

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Generation 6: Nancy Drew 🔍 “I don't promise to forget the mystery, but I know I'll have a marvelous time.”  🔍 Every bedtime, your mother read you stories that she and your grandmother wrote. Among all of those, it’s your grandmother’s mysteries that impacted you the most. There was something so thrilling about being a heroic, fearless woman who helped others out. Because of this, you gained a bunch of friends who loved you very deeply. With their support, you grew up as a well-known detective who can solve any case.  It was a fun life, but you eventually settled down in Henford-On-Bagley to have a family of your own.

Aspiration: Friend of the World 

Traits: Generous, Nosy, and Outgoing OR choose/roll for the last trait

Career: Detective OR  ⭐ Zerbu’s Simvestigations Mod

→ Master the fitness skill. → Be close friends with both your parents. → Have 2 best friends who are either your roommates (Discover University) or live in the same apartment complex as you (For Rent) for your entire YA life. → Get engaged to someone you meet on-the-job. → Before marrying your fiance, go on a trip to Selvadorada with your 2 best friends and explore the Jungle Temples. → Settle down in Henford-On-Bagley and have a farm life of your own. → Never move away once you settle in Henford-On-Bagley.

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Generation 7: Dorothy Gale 🐶 “If we walk far enough, we shall sometime come to someplace.”  🐶 Growing up you knew that there was more to the world than what was outside your own backdoor.  Afterall, your mother was a famous detective— if she went on her own adventures, why can’t you?

With her and your father’s support, you spend your young adult life traveling. You made some great friends along the way (and even some loves), but eventually you start to wonder if there is no place like home.

Aspiration: Local Aspirations— complete at least two

Beach Life

Mt. Komorebi Sightseer 

Fount of Tomarani Knowledge

Traits: Adventurous, Dog Lover, and Loves Outdoors OR choose/roll for the last trait

Career: Any Freelance Career 

⭐ Recommended Mods: SimNation Travel, Home Region

→ Have a dog that goes everywhere with you. → Live in 3 or more worlds during your Young Adult life. → Make 3 best friends that each teach you a valuable life lesson. → After making your three best friends, use reward points to add the following traits: Brave, Savant, and Incredibly Friendly. → As an adult, realize you miss your family and return home. → Have a long distance relationship with the father of your children.

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Generation 8: Wendy Darling 🌟 “She was a lovely lady, with a romantic mind and such a sweet mocking mouth. ”  🌟 You grew up waiting. First, for your father’s seasonal visits… which eventually stops when you become a teenager. Next, for the opportunity to leave Henford-on-Bagley to pursue your dreams of becoming an actress. And finally, for your first love, a man who refused to propose to you, no matter how long you waited for him to. Eventually you grew tired waiting and decided to grow up. You married a sensible man, had a child, and gave up your dreams of becoming an actress. Still, you held on to the dreams of your first love and end up reconnecting in a night of passion that leaves you pregnant with his child. Realizing that he’ll never grow up, you decide to dedicate your life to your family and husband.

Aspiration: Master Actor/Actress - you fail this or the⭐ Housewife Aspiration (after you marry)

Traits: Perfectionist, Proper, and Cheerful OR choose/roll for the last trait

Career: Actor/Actress

→ Master the Parenting skill. → Have a distant family dynamic with your father who never lives with you. → Join the drama club and meet your first love. Optional: He has the childish trait. → Give your first love all of your major romantic milestones. → Lose touch with your first love when you move to Del Sol Valley. → Marry a man you’d consider as sensible. Have one child with him. → Have a one time secret affair that results in another child. → Dedicate your life to your children afterwards.

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Generation 9: Alice Liddell  🐰 “It would be so nice if something made sense for a change.”  🐰

There were times you felt like you never truly belonged anywhere. While everyone at home lived and abided by your parents’ rules, your head was always in the clouds. Sensibilities and propriety were never in your vocabulary, much to the disdain of your father and the rest of your siblings. Still, you were a free spirit that could never be controlled. After moving out as a young adult, you fell in love with cooking and mixology. You also met a group of misfits who were as different as you. Every Sunday, you’d host special “tea” parties with them, that broadened your worldview and made you realize that the world gets curiouser and curiouser with each passing day.

Aspiration: Master Mixologist or Master Chef

Traits: Clumsy, Foodie, and Childish OR choose/roll for the last trait

Career: Culinary Career

⭐ Recommended Mods: Basemental, Grannies Cookbook, Open Love Life

→ Master the Cooking and Mixology Skills. → Have a juice/nectar hobby on the side. → Have a club with people who have weird or eccentric traits.* → Fall in love with someone with the Erratic Trait. → Host “tea” parties every Sunday in your own home. ⭐ Optional: Use the Basemental Mods and have your Sims get high on dope/drunk on alcohol during the tea parties. → Dye your hair a different, brighter color. → Live in a quirky and colorful house. → Befriend a rabbit who you talk to constantly. Name them The Mad Hatter. → ⭐ Optional: Be in a polyamorous relationship with Romantic Boundaries OR the Open Love Life Mod → Have two children. *You decide what weird and eccentric means.

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Generation 10: Countess Ellen Olenska  🎨 “The real loneliness is living among all these people who only ask one to pretend.”  🎨

You appreciated your mother’s lifestyle. You saw the world for what it could become, and not what everyone wanted it to be. However, you worried about your younger sister. You saw her innocence and wanted to protect it. When you turned into a young adult, you moved away and took your sister with you to start anew. However, life was not always easy. Straight out of teenhood, you married someone from a different city and had a tumultuous relationship with him. You separate with him and continue to care for your sister. You’re able to provide for her through your paintings, which also brought you a lot of fame. When she grew up into a Young Adult, she formed an attachment with a man that… intrigued you. She married him. This kept him in your life, but made it difficult for you to ignore your feelings. One night, you find yourself alone together, and you must make a choice: stay with him and break your sister's heart, or leave forever to give them peace. You have a price to pay either way— we can't behave like people in novels without consequence, can we?

Aspiration: Painter Extraordinaire

Traits: Gloomy, Art Lover, and Family Oriented OR choose/roll for the last trait

Career: Critic 

⭐ Recommended Mods: RPO, Wonderful Whims, Custom Relationship Bits, Soulmates

→ Master the Painting Skill. → Become a Level 3 Celebrity with your paintings. → Marry someone who isn’t your soulmate straight out of high school. Have a negative relationship with him before separating. ⭐ Optional: Only temporarily separate with him using the RPO Mod. → Be best friends with your sister. → Become soulmates with the partner of your sister without consummating the relationship. → When you’re an adult, invite your sister’s partner over, and make a choice— woohoo together and break your sister's heart, or end the emotional affair. → If you woohoo together - Tell your sister the next day and become enemies. Name your child after them. → If you end the emotional affair - Move away from your love and get back together with your ex-husband. Die without having your own children.

[aquanutart]

I was talking and I mentioned that I have my old Game Boy and original Pokemon cartridge. I said, "I think they still work."

I was told, "The internal batteries on the Game Boy cartridges have run out. They're all dead."

"Oh," I said, trying not to show how crestfallen I was. I felt like I was losing nerd cred for not knowing that, although I never kept up with that type of info anyway. I'm here for the fantasy and imaginative aspects of games, and tend not to follow the competitive or technical details.

I tried not to feel anything as I went home. If they were real animals, I reminded myself, I would have had to say goodbye long ago.

But like so many other people, Pokemon was my childhood. It was all I thought about and dreamed about, and the closest thing I could imagine to heartbreak was the knowledge that they weren't real. I spent nearly all my time writing longhand self-insert Pokemon fanfiction--far more than I spent actually playing the game. My Pokemon were with me in my imagination wherever I went. I started playing Pokemon Blue when I was 5, and the last time I had played it was probably when I was 9 or 10. I remembered I had turned it on again one more time after that, not to play it, but to look at my childhood Pokemon.

It was during high school, after a move overseas that completely upended my life, and I was struggling with the crushing blow of being taken away from everything I knew and trying to make sense of anything (least of all adolescence) in another language. All I wanted was to go back to childhood and have everything go back to how it was before.

Seeing my Pokemon, just as I'd left them, had comforted me. I had looked at their stats pages, taken photos of them with my digital camera (that I don't even know if I still have), and then turned it off without doing anything.

That was probably 9 or 10 years after the games came out. It had been a long time since then. I had long since taken the AA batteries out of my Game Boy Color and left it untouched. I didn't even have AA batteries anymore.

It had worked then. But now it had been 27 years... I thought about not trying to turn my cartridge back on. As long as I didn't turn it on, I could believe my Pokemon were still there, the way I remembered them.

On my day off, which happened to be Pokemon Day, I googled and read that some people on forums and Reddit were still able to play their original Pokemon games.

Then... it was possible. I went out to buy toothpaste. At the store, I asked where I could find AA batteries.

It was a big thing for me to be able to go to the store and buy things myself. When I moved at age 13, I felt like something went wrong with growing up. It was difficult to follow what people were saying, and people didn't always understand what I said either. I had been introverted even in English, but now I had enough negative experiences that I became afraid and stopped trying to talk to people altogether.

I threw myself into video games and reliving childhood memories. The internet was where I could communicate in my first language and understand. I lived online and didn't interact with the real world. On the internet I felt like I was understood and could find people who shared my interests the way I did, but in the real world it always felt like I could get hurt if anyone knew me.

I realize now that I could have had a better experience overseas if I'd known how to adapt and socialize, but this was not something I knew even in English, and trying to learn in another language made it ten times harder. I'm sorry now for missing out on interactions that I know I could have had, but I just didn't know how. I wouldn't know how until I learned, and it took me a long time to learn.

I grew up online, in the company of others who had trouble fitting in with the real world, even in their own language. Those experiences shaped me, and the friendships I've made and support I've received online are invaluable to me. The internet gave me a way to live, and through it I learned how to interact with others. But in many ways, for many years, it felt like my life was put on hold and I stopped growing up.

Several years ago I moved back, to not far from where I was born, and I was able to work for the first time. I began to interact with people and feel like I had a place in the real world.

After shutting myself away for so many years, every little step I made out in the world felt terrifying. But every little thing I did on my own made me feel like I was living for the first time.

Even something as little as going to the store and buying a pack of batteries.

I was directed to a shelf at the end of an aisle, and found myself looking at a rack of lithium AA batteries. Did they not sell the old kind anymore?

I walked around to the other side and was relieved to find the familiar black and brown Duracell batteries I'd known from my childhood. I felt more confident about putting in a battery that looked the same as I remembered. The smallest pack they sold was an 8-pack for $12.99. I really didn't need 8 batteries. I didn't have any other devices that used them.

I thought, what if I turn it on and it doesn't work and I'll have wasted $12.99?

I also thought we might already have batteries. I might be able to say, "Mom, do we have any batteries?" and she'd pull out two AAs from a drawer somewhere and I'd save my money.

But somehow I felt like part of what was important about this was being an adult and being able to buy my own batteries.

Yet... what if it just ended up making me sad? Was it better not to know?

I went to the checkout with just the toothpaste and stood hesitating at the edge of the checkout line.

If I didn't get the batteries now, and it turned out we didn't have any batteries, I wouldn't try it. I knew I would just put it off until even more time passed, and then... "Are you in line?" someone asked me.

"No," I said, and I turned around and went back to the shelf.

I bought the batteries.

At home, I took out my original Game Boy Color from the drawer where I left it, the one my dad had surprised me with when I was 5 years old and that I had brought overseas and back.

I put the batteries in and turned it on without a cartridge first to make sure the batteries were inserted correctly. The Game Boy logo scrolled across the screen and it made the familiar blinging Game Boy startup noise. I turned it off again, satisfied.

I took out my original Pokemon Blue cartridge, momentarily having to remember which way it went in, and slotted it in.

I turned it on, watched the whole Pokemon Blue intro out of nostalgia, and then pressed START.

My heart leaped for joy.

MY POKEMON!!!! MY POKEMON ARE ALIVE!!! 🥺🥺🥺

My original Pokemon, that were with me in 1998 when I was 5-6 years old, are still with me 27 years later. I want to cry!!! I love the old sprites, I'm SO happy to see them again 😭😭😭 the Pokemon look so little and cheerful at the same time, which I love 🥺🥺🥺 I know there are people with many more hours on their games, who have leveled all their Pokemon to 100. But these are my Pokemon who were with me through my childhood, and I spent many more hours making up stories about them than actually playing the game. I'm so happy to see them again 😭😭😭

All I want is to see my Pokemon. My other Pokemon are in boxes. Now, how do I get to the nearest PC? Where am I?

Oh... Oh. I have to confess something. When I was a kid, I was scared of the dark cave areas, and whenever I got to them, I stopped playing for a while. (I was stuck at Mt. Moon until I was like, 7.) So I never actually beat the game.

And here I am on Victory Road, with the team of Pokemon I was taking to the Elite Four, without an Escape Rope.

The only way for me to see my other Pokemon is... to finally make it through Victory Road, after 27 years?!

[greenglowinspooks]

Honestly I think the fics where Danny’s a Kryptonian have a lot of potential, so here’s me throwing my hat into the ring

Danny was born a human. He was born to two loving (though slightly neglectful) human parents in the painfully mundane state of Illinois.

Then, he died, but he didn’t do it right. He became a Halfa; too alive to be a ghost, but too dead to be human.

Then, through strange, uncontrollable circumstances, that changed as well.

He had been heavily injured, missing a large percentage of body mass, and was at the cusp of either dying fully or just fading from existence.

(Perhaps it was an ordinary fight. Perhaps it was the GiW, or his parents. Perhaps it was a simple accident. That didn’t matter now.)

He fled, phasing through the ground, trying to bury himself as deep as possible.

(Perhaps he didn’t want to be unmasked in death. Perhaps that was already too late, and he just wanted his body be able to rest in peace.)

Unfortunately for him, he was in Metropolis, and ended up in a secret genetics lab below the earth.

Danny detransformed, completely exhausted, falling onto a table covered in different labeled specimen containers. He closed his eyes, and prepared himself for what would happen next.

And… nothing.

Slowly, cautiously, he opened his eyes.

Danny sat up, brushing off the foul-smelling liquid from the specimen jars, petri dishes, and assorted vials.

He felt…fine.

No, better than fine. He felt normal. Healthy.

He felt like he wasn’t missing most of his internal organs anymore.

Danny looked down at his stomach, and saw that the wounds that were killing him had completely disappeared.

(The blood blossoms, if there had been any, were still there, but they no longer hurt. At most, they itched a little, or maybe just tickled a bit.)

He wanted to question what in the hell had just happened, but he didn’t want to jinx it. He just quietly changed back to Phantom, going invisible and phasing out of wherever he had found himself in, ignoring the loud alarm system that had begun to blare when he broke the samples on that table.

Life mostly went back to normal after that.

If, like Danny, you ignored all the physical changes in a valiant effort to remain in denial that something was horribly wrong.

His skin was tougher, now; he didn’t get scrapes or cuts, even when he accidentally fumbled a knife while trying to cook. His ghost form was stronger, too; he was barely knocked down by his old rogues anymore.

He could fly, even in his human form. Though, admittedly, the flight was much different. It was like using a muscle he hadn’t known existed beforehand. He didn’t just ignore gravity or wind resistance, though he felt more graceful in the air now than he ever did as Phantom.

There were more powers popping up, lasers and cold breath, x-ray vision and super strength. His lungs and heart were larger, and he could handle temperatures much easier. He didn’t have to transform to handle the pressure and cold of space anymore.

His reaction time had improved, becoming much faster than ever before. His senses were much stronger, and he had even seemed to gain a sense of electric fields, like a shark.

The only thing that separated him from a Kryptonian was that he had developed electrokenesis, which he had never seen any of them use on TV.

So, surely, he was fine.

Everything was normal, he hadn’t been transformed by alien DNA in a sketchy lab, he had just had a really weird and specific metagene activation.

—

Clark Kent, Kal-El, was panicking.

It had been around a month and a half since a particularly brutal fight between Intergang and an unknown assailant, and it seemed that Intergang was determined to draw out whoever had scorned them.

Their method of doing this, of course, was trying to level the city.

He and Jon were doing their best to stop them, but with both Kon and Zor-El away on their own business, it was difficult.

And by difficult, he meant almost impossible.

Slowly but surely he was driving them back, but not without massive amounts of damage to the city, especially with only Jon on dedicated rescuing duty.

He was distracted, trying to draw a group away from a heavily occupied building, when a projectile hit him in the back of the head.

The world spun for a moment, and then it went black.

(It was, probably, then, some sort of Kryptonite-metal alloy. Intergang at its finest.)

He woke slowly, forcing his eyes open. He felt like he had been hit by an eighteen wheeler.

Clark jolted up, preparing for the worst.

To his shock, though, the city hadn’t been reduced to rubble while he was out.

Jon seemed to still be working on evacuation, either unaware that he had went down or forcing himself to focus on the task at hand.

Then, a lightning-quick figure flew into view, and Clark’s mind went blank.

He thought, for a moment, that Kara was back. But, no, that wasn’t right, she was supposed to be off-planet for another week or so.

Besides, this new figure didn’t move like her. They were lankier and more slender, and they flew quicker than any member of his family.

Their powerset was different, too; they focused mainly on using blasts of ice and electricity to drive enemies back, only occasionally using their strength or lasers—ones which came from their hands instead of their eyes.

He had woken up at the tail end of the fight, it seemed. The remaining Intergang members were fleeing from the mysterious metahuman.

They stayed in the sky, motionless, watching them leave.

As if they could sense him staring, they turned.

They were small, still clearly young. Probably around Kon’s age, or maybe even younger.

Instead of the colorful clothing he had inherited from his family, the stranger wore black and white clothes which looked similar to a hazmat suit, their face covered by some sort of gas mask.

Interestingly enough, instead of the S-shape crest that he was so used to seeing, the stranger wore the letter D on his chest.

Kal’s heart sped up.

From up in the sky, he heard the stranger’s heart, on the left instead of the right, speed up in return.

But before he could say a word to them, they sped off, disappearing into the deep blue sky.

[freela]

for the love of god please help me

Hi, I'll get right to the point. In July last year, my mom and I had to move in with a family member and are currently living in her garage. This family member is a vindictive, hateful, and manipulative person, goes through our things when we're gone, does not allow us to eat after certain times, slams doors to startle us, and constantly hangs it over our heads how "gracious" she was to let us live in her garage instead of letting us be on the street. Despite complaining that she is embarrassed of us living here and wants us out of here as soon as possible/constantly threatens kicking us out (despite coming to us about us living here), we have to pay for our own food, toilet paper, etc., and my mom has to pay HALF the electric bill (this family member will randomly turn all the lights on in the house and leave them on/turn them back on when we turn them off in hopes of getting more money from my mom for the electric bill) as well as rent simply for just living here, and this eats up each paycheck my mom gets and we have not been able to save up absolutely anything to move out. Any money we save up at this point relies entirely on me having an income, and I have been job-hunting since August and haven't heard from anywhere yet. I have never been in contact with such an evil individual in close quarters like this, the way we're treated here/watching how my mom is treated is draining me of my mental well-being and there is nowhere to go to get a break, I feel hopeless that we will ever be able to move out any time soon. I had to re-home my cat who is being fostered by a friend for the time being, and it's not the main priority because I know she is safe and cared for, but on top of everything I just miss my cat so badly it hurts and I just want to be able to get by enough to get our own place and be reunited with her.

I'm opening up commissions, they are pay what you want. I truly do not care enough at this point to accurately price my art, I am so at a loss for what to do until I get a job that I am willing to accept any amount in exchange for my art. I have some recent examples of what I can do if anyone is interested listed below (I apologize for the awkward formatting).

(Text says "Simple pixel doodles/paintings" and "More detailed/clean drawings, shading/backgrounds") I have a Bluesky where I will be posting commissions on if given permission.* I also have a Bluesky for nsfw art that I do not feel comfortable sharing the name of out in the open, but if you are 18+ feel free to dm me about this. *For both my regular and nsfw Bluesky accounts, I will post commissions ONLY if given permission by the buyer. If you do give permission for me to post it, you can let me know if you'd like it to be known it's for you, or if you'd like me to leave you anonymous. All posted commission art will be posted with a large watermark that the version you get will not have. I will NOT draw: -Proship -Noncon/cnc -Aged up characters/age*play/dd*lg/anything related -Real people These apply for both my regular and nsfw Bluesky accounts. I am only able to use ca$happ, which is @/wwdits (my full name will be listed, you can check with me to confirm if you have the right account). I apologize for the inconvenience. I know this is long, but I am very desperate to convey the type of work I can do so I can make a bit of income to set aside to get out of here. Thank you so much for reading, and if you cannot commission but know someone who might be interested, please share wherever possible. Thank you so much for reading and may things get better for all of us.

[fanzou]

Hi!! could you write about sanji dating someone whose old partner only cared about their own happiness (sexually and non sexually) and she starts believing thats how a relationship is supposed to work. sanji shows her it’s not supposed to be like that

Spoil Me!

✗ Pairing: Sanji Vinsmoke x Fem!Reader

✗ Summary: Sanji shows you how to be selfish for a change.

✗ Total WC: 4.4K

✗ CW: Angst, Reader being in a manipulative relationship before Sanji, SMUT, Sanji calls reader lots of pet names, Reader cries in good and bad ways (let me know if I missed any), fluff, Nami smacks your butt (my personal favorite part)

✗ A/N: I always see this prompt with other writers and got super anxious just cuz it could get angsty, but I feel that I did somewhat of a good job with this. I’m happy with it! So… enjoy, and thank you so much for this request!

It’s been 2 months since you and Sanji had established yourselves romantically.

And ever his romantic self, Sanji had always done things different with you. Everything was equal, everything was amazing. Everything felt right in his mind. You’d help him with the dishes, you’d help do his laundry, hell—sometimes he’d let you help prepare his favorite dishes with him to serve to the crew. Of course, there had been a select few things that were off limits, like paying for the bill, which he always had you covered, it was but a friendly gesture. You’d return the favor the next time you guys went out, even if he almost fought the waiter about it. (You couldn’t help yourself!)

When it was absolutely pouring and Sanji saw you hadn’t brought a coat in preparation, there was no hesitation in giving his up for you, but you insisted that you and him could both get underneath the coat like an umbrella, and he swore he fell in love with you all over again right then.

Even though he always liked the idea of being the one to take care of his partner, this was something different, something new. He’d grown to appreciate it—the equal friendship you’d shared. And when he realized his new and profound love for you, he felt unstoppable. Suddenly he wanted everything to do with you, and less to do with anything else. It was like he was attached to your hip. Wherever you went he wasn’t so far behind.

So it was a surprise to no one when you both finally decided to get together. He was ecstatic, the smile on his face couldn’t be wiped away for days.

And then it came crashing down.

exhibit A.

You’ve done this 3 nights in a row.

“My heart, you don’t have to worry about the dishes tonight, okay? I’ve already washed and dried them all, just get some rest.” You kiss his cheek and walk away, presumably to your room.

When the door closes, he finally settles back into reality, what he experienced could only be described as shock. He thought it was just a coincidence the first two nights. Maybe you just wanted to go to sleep a little earlier, but Sanji can’t help but feel a pang in his heart. Though it might seem like a boring little chore to an outsider, there was something that filled his heart about being able to do the dishes with you. It was so much more intimate. There was something about being side by side with you, talking and chatting about how your day went, asking you about the crew, if you did anything special that day. It was the little things for him, and he couldn’t relish in his favorite part of the day because of whatever reason you wanted to finish the dishes as early as possible.

You laughed into his shoulder while he told you something funny he encountered that day, “Sanji, that’s crazy!” Your laugh was so bright. Oh, how he loved to hear your sweet laugh, and this was one of those moments he could cherish it, to really savor it with no disruption.

Another time, you’d tease and get some soap on his cheek and he’d rebuttal by getting you a little wet. He giggled at your gasp and put down the wet dishes for a second and put his wet hands around your hip. You didn’t mind, never. You grabbed his face and pulled him into a kiss while his hands soaked your shirt and pants. It was absolute heaven to him, and he didn’t want it any other way.

Surely he hadn’t done something wrong, that had to be impossible. Given your body language, and the way you leaned into him, everything was fine on his part.

He turns around and twists the door knob to the kitchen to follow you to your room, and makes a quick turn to your door.

He opens it and there you are, already dressed in your night gown, ready to sleep. You look exhausted, he looks at you in what you can almost make out to be a pitiful expression. “Is everything alright, sweetheart?” He walks towards you carefully and lifts your hand into his, and contrary to your tired expression, he can tell you try your utmost to keep an enthusiastic attitude, “Of course! There’s nothing to worry about. You should go to bed Sanj’.” You squeeze his hand, “I don’t want you to be tired.”

A silence falls, until you continue, “Something bothering you? Do you want me to come to bed with you? So you can sleep?”

Even though you meant well, and to anyone else it would seem thoughtful— the words you had uttered were far from reassuring to him.

exhibit B.

It was a special day, a very special one. Something that you almost didn’t want to celebrate, for whatever reason, but with the way it made Sanji so happy to be able to participate in, you couldn’t help but let him have it.

“Happy Birthday!” The crew says in unison. They just got done singing the most off beat and terrible rendition of what they thought was the happy birthday song, and you loved it. the three layer cake was decorated in the most gorgeous pink you had ever seen. Complimented by pink pearls on the sides with what you can only assume to be the most attentive detail, prepared by your one and only. It was thoughtful, almost so thoughtful that there was a guilt forming in your stomach. Nami picks some frosting off the top and swipes it onto your nose, to which you cutely stare at the middle of your face. She licks the residue off her fingers and in satisfaction, she yells to the cook, “Wow Sanji, this is amazing!” His smile softens when he hears her words. “I’m almost jealous. Where was all this for my birthday?”

“Now hurry up and cut the birthday girl a slice before I eat this entire thing!” Luffy exclaims, and everyone is quick to start arguing with him. “Don’t you dare, you idiot!” Nami yells.

You can only laugh, “My slice? That belongs to Sanji!”

The commotion comes to a silence and everyone looks at you, most of them with confused expressions or blank one’s. Sanji doesn’t understand what you meant, and neither did the others so you continue, “It’s important that he gets the first slice, I almost feel bad that I made you prepare such an amazing cake, I couldn’t possibly be the first one to eat it.”

There was an awkward silence, but he decided to break it. “Darling… it’s your cake. I made it especially for you.” You thought about it for a moment, long and hard, before a memory came back to you:

Y’know I bought this cake for you, so it’s only fair that I get the first piece. A bit selfish of you to try to hog it all up, sweetheart. A woman should always serve her man first, ever heard of that? The voice rings through your ears and you shudder.

You scratch your neck and look off to the side, “I was always taught that it was bad manners for me to take the first slice, please Sanji, would you do me the honors?” You look a little nervous to even be saying that. The swordsman answers before he or anyone else can, “Bad manners? Never heard that one before.” He says before taking a sip of his drink. It would be completely unlike Sanji to ever participate in such a tradition, it would be no exaggeration to say that it made him mildly uncomfortable. But because of the way you look at him with pleading eyes, albeit hesitantly—he cuts himself the first piece, and then the rest for everyone else.

“Alright!” Luffy licks his lips. “Let me know if anyone doesn’t finish theirs!”

“I hope you enjoy it, my love.” You say to him with your hand cupping his face. His eyes widen for a split second.

He doesn’t miss the sad look in your eyes.

exhibit C.

This was something you couldn’t do very often with being on the waters almost all of the time, and when you were on ground there was always a quick and rising conflict that had to be dealt with, so it was difficult for you and your lover to get some alone time.

And the restaurant was absolutely fabulous, violin music playing in the back, the red and orange lights that illuminated the environment were calm and not overbearing, they were dimmed just right to fit the seductive atmosphere that you and Sanji both basked in. The food was amazing as well, something he couldn’t say about many restaurants. He wasn’t crazy about this island, but he’d be lying if he said there wasn’t some great food here.

“You look beautiful, dear. This dress is absolutely perfect on you.” Sanji says simply, but it dusts a blush on your face, one that he wishes he could see, but the ambient light does good to mask it, much to his disappointment. He liked leaving you flustered. “You look handsome, but you know that.”

“I like to hear it from you. ‘Makes me feel like I’m the luckiest man alive.” He purrs. You don’t miss the way his feet glide against yours, and the hungry look he gives you.

Like he almost wants to take you then and there. And suddenly the mood changes—from romantic to sexual. There’s a certain glimmer in his eyes that you want to get familiar with, but this is a restaurant, and he had enough food. “I think we should get out of here, my love.” Not taking his gaze from yours, “I’m hungry for something else.”

“I paid the bill already, baby, so we can bounce whenever you want.” You say with an eagerness in your tone, trying to match his energy.

Sanji looks nothing like he did a second ago, he’s confused and almost surprised, sad and angry all at the same time. It’s unlike anything he’s ever seen. He didn’t want you to pay, that’s far from what he wanted you to do. He wanted to pay the bill, and then take you to the nearest hotel and make you feel special. “What do you mean you paid?” His tone is stern now.

“Sanj’, I was taught that it was bad manners to have a man— y’know… pay… ‘cause they do all the work. Y’know? And…” you continue, but Sanji cancels your voice out for a second. You fiddle with your fingers in your lap, you don’t want to look at him anymore, in fear of what he would say to you. You thought you had done the right thing but it probably wasn’t enough to keep him satisfied.

It’s all the same.

Honestly, he didn’t care about whatever bullshit manners anyone’s ever taught you. It’s something that he didn’t approve of. Sanji digs his hand in his hair, he’s frustrated. He loves you, he really does. But this is suuuuch a turn off. As a friend he could take you paying the bill after his countless times doing so, despite his absolute reluctance in letting you do it. It was much more different now that you were finally together. He didn’t want to be upset with you, perhaps you misunderstood, that was all. Your anxiety grew as Sanji stayed quiet, you could tell he was frustrated and you didn’t understand why. No worries, it’s nothing you hadn’t seen before.

“If it makes you feel better, I’ll make you feel good tonight if you’ll let me?” You say with hopeful eyes, and his gaze finally meets yours, but you quickly realize that it’s not enough to satisfy his needs, he just looks at you with a pitiful expression like he had the other few instances you suggested something like this. “My love… if you’ll let me be honest. I don’t really care about whatever dumb manners you had to learn growing up or whoever ingrained those dumbass ideologies into your pretty little head.” He takes your hands, “You’re with me, and I want to be able to make you feel like the most special girl alive.”

You were nervous, and you felt like your nails digging into your palm were bound to break through skin soon, you chewed anxiously on your bottom lip with your brows furrowed. Should you tell him? The last couple weeks of establishing your relationship was nothing short of a fantasy, but you didn't let yourself enjoy it like you wanted to in fear of coming off as selfish.

Would you be able to get the bill this time, babe? I'm a little short.

Ahh, short again. Well I did buy you that one thing... So you can maybe think of this as your payback!

I do enough for our relationship. You can pay this time, don't be greedy.

"Sanji..." you trail off, looking down at your lap once again, "The last guy I was with, he insisted that I did every thing, but the more I'm with you the more that I realize that it was probably very unnatural, to do everything for him. And I'm sorry, but I'm just now learning that." a tear trickles down your cheek. "I'm learning to unlearn this stuff, and I need your help."

He's no longer frustrated, but he can hear his heart break in his chest.

"I'll be here with you, my love. Every step of the way."

the breakthrough

It’s pushing 90 degrees today on the Sunny, and it goes without saying; everyone and everything is hot, scorching even. On days like this, or, who was he kidding? Any day, Sanji will whip up something to help the ladies feel better about any nasty weather they’re in, and while you three bask in the sunlight in your guys’ bikini’s. He loved the sight. And he most certainly hasn’t taken his eyes off of you all day.

You sported a 2-piece, the bottom half barely covered by some unbuttoned jean shorts and because of how hot it was out, there was a thin layer of sweat that coated your form which helped accentuate every curve of your body. He watched from a distance for most of the day, almost avoiding you in fear of pouncing on you in front of everyone. You were so sexy, and he almost felt perverted like this.

He had brought over some drinks for you and Nami and Robin to help somewhat alleviate the heat you had all felt, and you three thanked him kindly, but you noticed that same glint in his eyes, the same from the night at the restaurant. A super-duper mischievous one, and you promised you’d familiarize yourself with it. You wanted so desparately get up and take him to your bedroom and let him have his fun-- but you stopped yourself, like Sanji wanted; you to enjoy your time with the girls and not to worry about anything he was making in the kitchen, what he had to clean up, that fun stuff.

“He’s practically devouring you with those eyes he’s giving you.” Robin speaks, and it leaves you a little embarrassed, laying your head down onto the beach towel, he hasn’t been so discreet about the way he was ogling you.

“Yeah well, ‘second I’m done with this drink we’ll see where it takes us.” The girls giggle, and you clink your glasses together in a silent cheers. In truth, you were nervous, but you did well to mask it. “He’s one lucky guy!” Nami says, playfully smacking your butt.

-

Finally, he has you all to himself.

You guys are making out in his bed, and he’s so hard he could die. You’re palming him through his shorts and he moans into your mouth. “Fuck, baby.” At this point your jean shorts were easily discarded onto the floor while he slowly but surely makes his way to untying your bikini. He wants it all off. And he’s not shy about it. “Finally.” He makes work of untying your top piece, and you get lost in pleasure. Your tits are even prettier than he thought, and he licks your bud before starting to suck on it. You already feel your heat pooling through your lower piece. “Th-at feels so… so good Sanji. Yes…” You’ve never felt so sensitive, but with the way Sanji was attacking your breasts all while caressing your hips, coupled with the heat, it felt like so much at one time.

Before you get lost in the absolute euphoria that is Sanji, you become aware of one fact,

This simply just isn’t about you. Those words ring like a bell in your head in the midst of the pleasure, and what kind of girlfriend would you be if you let Sanji do all the work? It was so selfish of you to let yourself think that you could relish in this. After all, it’s all about him. Only, about him.

Women aren't even meant to cum, so don't get ahead of yourself sweetheart.

Trying to push away the thought, you softly cup your hand around his cheek and bring him to your lips to assert yourself.

“This is about you.” You quickly straddle his hips and grind on top of him and he groans at that, craving the new friction you gave him. you looked sexy like this, but he wanted this to go his way this time.

In an act of complete rebuttal, Sanji flips you around and you yelp, he lets out a breathless laugh “Yeah, right.” You’re on your back now, and he spreads your legs. He keeps his eyes on your cunt, looking down at it deliciously, and finally he starts stroking it through the only fabric left on your body, up and down with his thumb. You can’t help but let out a moan, this was new, you were used to being demanded--but not in this way. “San…ji… this isn’t fair to you, ba—”

The audible groan that comes out of him was loud and proud. “So tired of hearing that come from your mouth.” He gently moved your underwear to the side and started rubbing your bare clit. “You know what I think is bad manners?” He looks at you, “When I can’t make you feel like the princess you are.” You can’t help but moan, it was obvious you weren’t used to this kind of treatment.

When he presses your thighs against your torso, you're almost shocked, you assume that he’d start to pull his pants down and have his way, but instead, his head comes down to meet your cunt face to face, he pressed kisses on your inner thighs and the sight is so very romantic, you feel so selfish, so very selfish.

It feels amazing.

When his tongue takes its first long swipe across your cunt, it felt dirty, and sooo good. You let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding in and not long after he started his attack on your clit, lapping and sucking on it like a madman. “Sanji… yes.” You moan his name over and over coupled with some curses, and his hands grip tighter onto your thighs. His squelching and sucking, the sounds are so lewd, and you can feel his drool mixed with your juices trickle all the way down to the mattress. The image would forever be ingrained into your head, it was too perfect.

Sanji starts prodding into your cunt with one finger, and then inserts another, scissoring and fucking them into you while you shake under his wrath. “That feels so good, more, pleaseeee.” He meets your gaze and you want to melt at how he looks at you; like you were his lifeline. You feel a knot form in your stomach, something almost unfamiliar to you. You couldn't remember the last time you had an orgasm unless it was from your own fingers.

“Wanna see that pretty face when you cum on mine.” And the fact that he would be the reason behind it made him only hungrier. "I can't... Baby... It’s so much. I think I might… ohhhhh…." Your mix of Sanji's and Fuck's and Yes' only grew breathier and more demanding. "Cum on my face, please, yes." He begs you and his tongue goes faster over your clit.

When you finally bust, you can only mutter a "Mmmmmmmyesssss" with a heaving chest that followed suit, hips grinding into his tongue so you could ride out your orgasm. Your face was in absolute bliss, eyes squinted, brows furrowed, and mouth a little opened from how good it felt. It's almost too much for you, he gives your cunt a few more licks before getting up and massaging your thighs with his thumbs.

"Did that feel good, princess? I'm sorry if it was a little rough." He comes down to your lips and gives you quick kiss.

"Please fuck me Sanji. I need you inside of me, please."

Who was he to deny his princess?

He kisses your lips again while making quick work of the tied knot on his shorts, he didn't even realize how hard he was until he took his shorts off, cock still in his briefs.

Sanji takes off your stretched out underwear and throws it on the floor once and for all, and his own meet yours soon after.

His cock was very long—8 inches, if you had to guess. Curved upright, and it was beautiful, but you'd be lying if you had said that you weren't a little afraid of taking it. Luckily he catches your gaze and he smiles, "You nervous, princess?"

"Just a little bit..."

"Don't be, I'll take it slow." Had you not spilled to him that night about your failure of a previous relationship, he would've taken you for a virgin the way you trembled looking at his dick. He couldn’t begin to imagine the pain and frustration you had endured in your previous relationship, telling him about how he never let you cum and only sought to chase his own pleasure. He was willing to change that, and right now—he’d be damned if he said the way you look at it didn't turn him all the way on. "Watch it go in. Trust me my love, it's not that bad."

You listen and nod, and you watch with him. He lets it slide across your pulsing heat a couple times before he lets his head slowly slide in, he's biting his lip and lets his own line of curses come out of his mouth. When he's about half way in, another breath you didn't know you were holding lets itself out, and another inch, and another, until he's all the way inside, and saying you felt stuffed was really an understatement.

He takes the back of your knees in your hands and spreads them a little further, he starts moving slowly and you both let your sighs of pleasure out.

He starts to pick up his pace when you ask him to, not too quick but steady enough for you to feel every detail of his cock graze your insides. Because of the heat, it's not long until you're both covered in sweat.

He can't help himself, he comes down to kiss you again and talk you through the moment.

"I'm so lucky to have you."

"You're the prettiest woman I've ever met."

"You look so perfect right now."

The praises were too much and you felt insanely spoiled, something you've never felt before. The slapping of skin, the closeness you felt to him, his cock steadily coming out of you, only for it to stuff you full over and over again. The way he kept his eyes on yours, it was so much. And before you knew it, tears ran down your cheeks, ones of pleasure and joy--you couldn't tell which was which.

"I love you so much, S-Sanji."

He kisses your tears away, "I love you more, princess. You're doing amazing." Kisses your lips, but not for too long as he doesn’t want to mask your beautiful sounds.

“You’re so beautiful when you cum, baby. Are you gonna cum soon? I wanna see it again.”

Now, Sanji’s thrust are sloppier but a little more harder, you can tell he’s probably going to approach an orgasm soon along with you.

“Y-Yes. Ohhhhhh fuuuucckkk~”

“You take me so well, princess. You were made for me.” The clapping between your bodies gets louder, and you try your hardest to bury yourself into the pillow from how good it felt. “Look at me.”

You obeyed, like you always do, even though he looks disheveled; mouth covered in juices and spit, there’s beads of sweat running down his face, he really loves this moment with you.

“Tell me you love me” he says.

“I love you.” His thrusts are inconsistent now, but he’s still hitting the same spongy spot inside of you.

“Again.”

“I love you, Sanji. Ohhh, shit.”

“Again.”

“I love you so much! So, so much! I’m gonna cum again! Mhhh!”

And just like you spoke, you came all over him, it hit his chest, his balls, thighs, and all over the mattress, and he fucks some of it back into you while he follows you in reaching his own orgasm.

Before he can, he pulls out of you and releases the hot white liquid onto your stomach, stroking his dick til there was nothing left in him to give.

Completely disregarding the fact that he just came all over your stomach, he collapses onto you and joins you in almost synchronized breaths. “That was… amazing…” you managed to say. “Thank you so much.”

Sanji rolls over and pulls you onto his chest, “You deserve everything and more, that was only a fragment of how much I appreciate you, sweet thing.”

To his surprise, you get up from your position and look at him. You scan his body and come to one conclusion, “I should probably clean you up a bit.”

He wants to roll his eyes, but instead he takes your arm and yanks you down with him in the same position you were before. “If I’m gonna be dirty, I’ll be dirty with to you. But if you wanna take a bath with me, that’s a different story” once again, that mischievous undertone in his voice is something you can’t miss.

You’ve still got a long way to go, but he’ll be there with you through every step.

[justmymindandstuff]

your beloved Fury - Cregan Stark x TargaryenReader

based on this ask.

summary: Cregan meets your beloved Dragon Vermithor for the first time. He is more than scared, he is terrified. Not that he would ever admit that to you.

words: 3.281

warnings: none I think, just a bit fluff

a/n: English is not my first language// Reader is Rhaenyras daughter and described with dark hair // Not proofread// No use of Y/N.

Have fun 🧡.

requests are open// main masterlist// hotd masterlist

Excitedly, you run ahead of him and pull on his hand. Happiness and joy radiate from you, your steps are light, you almost bounce off the ground. Cregan follows you laughing through the gardens of the Red Keep. At the sight of your happy state, his heart beats faster and he can't wipe the smile from his face, even though he would prefer to hide today. Your destination is your dragon, Vermithor. The last few days Cregan found excuses, but today he really couldn't come up with anything.

With wide eyes, you had looked at him. "But My Lord, how can you become my husband in three days without knowing my dragon?"

Cregan had to acept defeat. What could he say against this? That he is terrified to meet your Dragon? Not an option.

When he rode south to keep his word and support the queen, he never expected to fall in love.

Cregan arrived just in time to prevent a riot in King's Landing and to stop the storming of the Dragonpit. It took a few days for Queen Rhaenyra's rule to be secured, but know everything starts to settle down.

The only thing for Cregan to do know was going home to Winterfell. But not without you.

Cregan had just come from a council meeting when he saw you for the first time. Jace had mentioned a twin sister back then, and he knew that all Targaryens are good looking but as your eyes meet, he had to pause in his movement. Gods, you are beautiful.

"You must be Lord Stark." you slightly lowered your head before him. "A hero, I have heard. It is an honor to meet you."

Your voice is like music to his ears, and when you smile at him, his heart skips a beat.

"The honor is entirely... entirely on my side... Princess." he had stuttered. Cregan doesn't know when he last stuttered. He falls in love at that moment.

The gods were on his side, because you apparently feel the same as he did. You asked your mother for her blessing to your betrothal and the queen agreed.

So Cregan and you will marry in three days and after that you will join him on his journey back north. And wherever you go, your dragon Vermithor will follow.

For the last few days, Cregan has been able to avoid getting too close to the dragon. Unfortunately, today he doesn´t find a excuse. The thought of facing the dragon alone brings sweat to his forehead. Northman or not.

Not that he would ever admit that he is afraid. He wants to impress you. And besides, neither you nor your siblings are afraid of dragons. Your little brother Viserys is barely a toddler, but he still treats the fire-breathing monsters like they were puppies. Cregan can be just as brave as the little prince.

Arriving in the castle courtyard, two horses are already ready for you. Cregan hesitates again, watching you mount elegantly.

"Are you ready, My Lord?" you ask and look at him. The sun makes your skin shine, the strong contrast between your light skin and your dark curls, the deep violet of your eyes. Cregan's body begins to tingle. You are a sight for sore eyes. And when you call him my Lord with your beautiful voice, Cregan's heart explodes every time. Your voice is full of affection and love. Cregan can hardly believe his own luck. He enjoys the sight of his future bride for another heartbeat before he nods and also mounts his horse.

You turn your horse and ride off, as the guards prepare to follow you, you address them.

"No need to trouble yourself, Ser. I don't need any guards today."

"But my princess, you cannot ride out alone, it is still too dangerous."

"Don't worry, Ser. I have the honorable Lord Stark by my side." you grin at him and Cregan has to concentrate on not turning as red as a foolish boy.

The guards stay behind, and you ride side by side through King's Landing. When you don't steer your horse towards Rhaenys's Hill, Cregan stops briefly.

"We're not riding to the Dragonpit?"

You shake your head slightly, your dark hair blowing around you. You quickly swapped your Targaryen braids for northern hairstyles. A fact that filled Cregan's heart with warmth.

"Vermithor is too large for the Dragonpit. He lives in the Kingswood."

Cregan has to suppress a sigh. Of course, your dragon is too big for the Dragonpit, what else. With a cramping stomach and sweaty hands, Cregan rides on again. Quickly, you leave the city behind and ride into the forest.

The Lord of Winterfell takes a deep breath and relaxes a little. Now that the loud city is behind you, Cregan realizes once again how much he misses the peace in Winterfell. Not even a week more and he would be on his way home. And you will already be his wife.

"Why are you smiling?" you tiltel your head slightly and look over at him, your horse trotting along the path relaxed, seeming to know exactly where it needs to take you. Cregan didn't even notice that a smile had crept onto his lips.

"I was just thinking that you will very soon be my wife," he replies honestly. Your smile widens, the sparkle in your eyes intensifies, and Cregan thinks you become more beautiful with every passing second.

"I am looking forward to being your wife." you say. Although a slight blush creeps into your cheeks, you hold his gaze. Cregan would most like to lean over and kiss you, if only for the briefest moment. But he would never dishonor a princess. He just has to wait three more days and then he can kiss you as long and as often as you allow him. Cregan can be patient. "But first, you will meet Vermithor." you speed up your horse, excitement radiates from you, but Cregan's fear is stronger. Nevertheless, he speeds up his horse to catch up with you.

He has to swallow before he can speak again. "I thought dragons bonded with riders who resembled them," the young lord recalls from the few lessons he received about dragons long ago.

You slightly furrow your eyebrows. Did Cregan say something stupid? Or did he upset you? But when you respond, there isn't a trace of anger in your voice.

"Why do you think Vermithor is not like me?"

To his own surprise, Cregan has to laugh. "I heard they call Vermithor the bronze fury. And my Lady, please don't be angry with me, but you don't seem like a person who harbors much fury." if Cregan is honest, you are one of the gentlest people he has ever met. In this viper-infested place like King's Landing, you seem to him like a beacon of gentleness and grace.

Now it's you who is laughing, the sound makes Cregan's skin tingle pleasantly. "You have never seen my wrath because I have never been angry with you, my Lord. You should be glad about that."

Cregan's lips curl into a grin. "Should I?" he asks challengingly. He can hardly imagine you ever being truly angry. It doesn't seem to suit you at all. But he knows himself that he shouldn't underestimate your Targaryen temperament.

"I have five younger brothers, My Lord. Don't think that a charming smile and a little teaser could unsettle me. And believe me when I say I can stand my ground very well." you laugh and in the next moment you gallop your horse. Cregan hears you laugh and follows you. Still trying to wrap his head around the fact that you find his smile charming.

Its not long before you slower your horse again. You ride slowly into a clearing, looking up into the sky, Cregan follows your gaze. But he only sees blue sky and clouds.

You stop your horse, whistle loudly between your fingers. Then you turn to Cregan and beam at him. He can't help but smile with you. Excitement and anticipation are in your eyes.

"Don't worry. You will like him." your voice is full of love, as if you were talking about your oldest friend. You are indeed talking about your oldest friend. Cregan is captivated by your beauty, losing himself in your radiant eyes. Warmth spreads within him and his heart begins to beat faster. He can hardly wait to take you as his wife. Suddenly, the sun is obscured, a dark shadow falls over you and him. The horses begin to fidget nervously back and forth, and when Cregan looks up again, his heart sinks into his stomach.

He has read stories about the Targaryen dragons, he has watched Vermithor and Silverwing from his window in the Red Keep. Cregan even saw Vermax up close when Jacaerys landed in the courtyard of Winterfell back then.

Nothing could have prepared him for that. The gigantic body of Vermithor completely blocks the sun, the light catches in his bronze scales. His wingspan is gigantic.

As closer the dragon gets, the more uncomfortable Cregan feels. Vermithor lands just a few steps away from you, the entire ground trembles. Cregan's horse rears, the stallion can probably sense Cregan's unease.

Vermithor turns his head towards him, opens his mouth, and reveals a row of teeth, almost as long as sword blades and probably a hundred times sharper. In an instant, he could swallow Cregan along with his horse. It would only take a second, and his flames could turn Cregan into a pile of ash.

He has to swallow, his hands clenching around the reins. Why couldn't it have been a smaller dragon like Vermax being one? Or a hatchling like Morning? No, your soul bonded dragon had to be a damn war dragon.

Cregan has to take a deep breath to calm his heart a little. It beats so loudly that he is already afraid you will hear it. The air smells of smoke, the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. His body reacts automatically to the danger. His hand wants to reach for the sword on his belt, neverless he manages to prevent the almost reflex.

You don't seem to have noticed his fear at all, have already jumped off your horse and are now approaching your dragon. Valyrian words roll off your tongue with ease, your voice sounds calm. Cregan doesn't understand a word of what you say to Vermithor, but the foreign sound of High Valyrian in your gentle voice sounds like the most beautiful song he has ever heard. Cregan watches closely as you raise your hand and stroke your fingers over the dragon's nose. He snaps his mouth shut, blowing hot air into your face. You giggle, turning to Cregan.

"You can come closer." Again, that sparkle in your eyes. The sun catches in your dark hair, Cregan has to take a deep breath, drinks in your beauty, and feels the fear slowly release its grip on his heart.

In the next moment, Vermithor lifts his head, raises it above you, and pushes his large body closer to you, this time smoke coming from his nostrils. You stretch out and place your hand under the dragon's chin, stroking him as if he were a cat. Fear burns in Cregan's stomach like a metalball, cold sweatbeads forms on his forehead. Nevertheless, he dismounts from the horse. When his feet touch the ground, his stance is not as firm as he would like it to be. Everything in him screams to turn around and run away.

Cregan had thought the scariest thing he would ever have to do was stand on the edge of the wall and look 700 feet down. Getting close to your oversized lizard today is so much worse.

His stomach tightens, and he has to hide the trembling of his hands by gripping the hilt of his sword. You reach out your hand to him.

"Come on. You really don't need to be afraid. Vermithor is really sweet."

Cregan takes a few steps towards both of you, Vermithors eyes flash, and "sweet" is the last thing Cregan would think of to describe this dragon. He has to force himself to keep going. But when Vermithor lets out a dark growl, Cregan flinches and stops. You turn a little to Vermithor and speak a few Valyrian words to him. Cregan understands his own name and Winterfell. A moment after you finish, Vermithor shakes slightly and then lowers his body down to his knees, while his wings fold tightly against his body and he lowers his head so that his eyes are at Cregan's height. Cregan stares in shock from you to your dragon. Did he really listen to you?

"I understand that you are scared..."

"I am not scared" Cregan interrupts you quickly, too quickly. A grin tugs at the corners of your mouth as you catch him lying. But you extend your hand again. Cregan takes a deep breath and forces himself to take the last steps. Gods, he has stood on battlefields, won wars, even had to fight for his place in Winterfell. He would describe himself as brave, but taking those steps onto your dragon costs him all his courage.

The air around Vermithor's body is warm and smells of sulfur. The Lord of Winterfell is by no means squeamish, yet he has to pull himself together not to wrinkle his nose. He is afraid of angering the dragon.

He reaches for your hand, your fingertips closing around the black leather of his glove. The touch of your fingers grounds him a little and he manages to take a deep breath and calm his heart a little bit.

You don't pull at him, giving him time until he stands directly in front of your dragon on his own. Vermithor doesn't move, only his eyes blink. Cregan has the feeling that the dragon is inspecting him closely, its eyes far too intelligent for a lizard. It sends a shiver down Cregan's spine.

"Do you want to pet him?" you ask, your gaze vigilant on Cregan and Vermithor as your fingertips glide over the scales beneath the dragon eye.

Cregan wants to shake his head and say no, but instead he carefully takes off the glove. He notices that his palm is sweaty, but he can't wipe it on his shirt, you would notice that. Slowly, Cregan raises his hand he cannot supress the slight trembling. He looks at you once more, you nod quickly. Cregan places his hand on the dragon's nose, the scales are hot and hard. Vermithor does not move, his breath steady while Cregan held his breath. Carefully, his fingers glide over Vermithor's nose, he endures it exactly four heartbeats, then he withdraws his hand and takes two steps back.

His heartbeat is fast, his breathing is unsteady and he notices the blush rising in his cheeks. He is sure that by now you know that he is panicking with fear. Nevertheless he looks at you.

You meet his gaze with a warm, proud smile "I told you, he is really sweet." you say and press your cheek against Vermithor. The dragon blows air out of its nostrils again, then gently nudges you and makes a humming sound, almost like a melody. Cregan is surprised that a hundred-year-old dragon is as gentle as a kitten.

Cregan grumbles in agreement, his fear still lingers in his stomach. "Can we go back now?" he looks at the horses, a few steps away. He did touch the dragon, but that doesn't mean he feels comfortable now.

You start to giggle. "Still scared?" you ask in a teasering voice. He looks at you, a smile dances around the corners of your lips. Vermithor nudges you lightly in the side, then straightens up a bit and takes a step towards Cregan. The ground trembles, the trees around sway, leaves fall to the ground.

Cregan has to swallow, needs all his courage not to run away. Vermithor slowly moves his head towards him, hiding you behind his body. Cregan's heart begins to beat faster, once again he has cold sweat on his forehead.

"Stay completely calm." he hears you say, not a hint of worry in your voice. Cregan isn't even surprised by how much trust you place in your dragon. Vermithor's head slowly comes closer, he sniffs the air around Cregan and then gently nudges him with his snout. The touch isn't even strong enough to make Cregan take a step back. He would never have expected such caution from the giant. The bronze Fury seems more like a kitten right now.

The dragon exhales, the air is so hot that Cregan's eyes begin to burn. Suddenly, Vermithor rises to his full height, his head hovering a few feets above the ground before he lets out a loud roar.

Cregan flinches in shock, the deep tone makes his bones vibrate, his muscles tense up, ready to run as fast as he can. Still, he remains where he is, looking at you.

You smile at him, pride in your gaze. Suddenly you run past Vermithor and throw yourself in Cregan´s arms. The Lord of Winterfell wraps his arms around you, catching you und pressing you close to him. Your warm laughter reaches his ears, and for a moment, he can forget the dragons three steps away. Still laughing, you take a step back from Cregan but reaching for his hand again. Your smile rivals the sun. You have to tilt your head slightly back to look at Cregan.

"Good, he likes you." you speak with conviction. "Now we can get married."

Cregan has to blink in surprise. "Wait this was up for discussion?" he asks, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Of course, My Lord Stark. Never could I marry a man that my Vermithor has not approved of."

Cregan looks past you back to your dragon. He feels as if his eyes are watching every of his movements. He has to swallow. So Vermithor likes him? Cregan can´t tell why you are so sure about this.

You squeeze his hand to regain his attention. Cregan looks at you. You stand on your tiptoes and give him a gentle kiss on the lips. It's just a brief moment, but it makes Cregan's stomach do somersaults and his heart pound loudly in his chest. Cregan wants to pull you into his arms immediately and claim your mouth as his. He has to hold back, contenting himself with pulling you closer and kissing your forehead. You snuggle into his arms.

"And what do you say? Do you feel like taking a little flight?" he can hear your laughter in your voice. You making fun of him, he knows that. If Cregan had a slightly bigger ego, he would force himself to climb onto that dragon's back just to avoid having to admit to his fiancée that he is too scared. It's a good thing Cregan's ego isn't that big after all. Not even an army of giants and the others could get him onto this dragon.

"Absolutely not." Cregan replies, also laughing and pulls you towards the horses. Vermithor lets out a growl and then spreads his wings. In the next moment, his body rises into the air and he takes off flying briefly over Cregan's and your head.

The Lord of Winterfell has to pull himself together not to flinch. He would never love this dragon as you do, but at least Vermithor didn't eat him at the first opportunity. That's a good sign Cregan thinks.

[frannyzooey]

Warriors

Merry Christmas @papurgaatika !! I am your Secret Santa, and I had a blast writing this for you ❤️ We share a first love of Din and writing this made me realize just how much I've missed him! I hope this is everything you wished for and more -- and I hope you have an amazing holiday!! 🎄❄️🎄❄️

Pairing: Din Djarin x f!reader

Rating: Explicit

--

You first spotted him on the outer reaches of the galaxy. 

His beskar armor demanded to be seen, a surprising choice for someone who worked in the shadows. But while the first time you saw him was a flash at the edge of the market, it wasn’t the first time he had seen you. 

He’d been watching you for weeks. 

The bounty on your head was a high one: a disgruntled old boss with a lot of credits, and even more vindictiveness. You’d been skipping from planet to planet, earning anything you could from spare jobs, and stealing whenever you had to. You knew your luck had to run out one day, but you always thought you’d be able to talk your way out of it. 

It’s a misunderstanding, you’d say. Let me tell you my side of the story. 

Just your luck that the bounty hunter who finally caught you wouldn’t budge an inch. 

He was stoic, solid. Impenetrable, just like his armor. The very size of his body intimidated you, but it had nothing on what you felt when he stared. The helmet he constantly wore hid everything from you, and even though you couldn’t see his expression, you still tried to plead your case.

It was like arguing with a wall. 

You pressed, and he remained silent. You explained, and he stood eerily still. You begged, and he said nothing.

Eventually, he admitted that the begging did it. 

That, and the fact that he needed a babysitter – for a child just as stubborn as he was. 

Weeks spent watching the Child and waiting around for him had your nerves strung tight, and sleep pulled at your dry eyes. You knew he was just as tired, but he was being infuriatingly stubborn – as usual. 

“Just take the bed,” he urged. 

“You’ve been out there for over two weeks,” you argued back, gesturing outside the ship. “Not a chance. You need sleep.”

“I’ll sleep in the cockpit.”

“Why, when you could stretch out?” you pushed back. 

His sighs were always these weighted things – thick with impatience, paired with hands on his hips and a tip of his helmet. The sound of it made you cringe when he did it to bounties, made you smile when he did it to the kid – but now, it made you frustrated. Annoyed. 

You crossed your arms over your chest, standing firm. He could be stubborn, but so could you. 

“The kid’s been down for ages, Mando. Take advantage of it.”

“And where will you sleep?” he pressed. 

“On the floor. Up in the cockpit. Wherever.” 

“On the floor?” He stared you down, and it took everything you had not to avert your eyes. 

“Hey,” you called him out. “Don’t try to intimidate me. It’s not going to work.”

He remained silent, and you huffed with annoyance. 

“Please,” you sighed. “I’m tired, you’re tired, the kids asleep. You need rest. Just take the bed.”

You turned to climb the ladder to the cockpit, and his voice stopped you. 

“Want to share it?”

–

Whatever sleep you thought you’d get, you were kidding yourself. 

The hulk of this man was a furnace next to you: the broad span of his shoulders blocking out the hull, the width of his chest shielding you, the bulk of his thighs pressed against your own. Insisting you take the side closest to the wall, you couldn’t even crawl out of the cot to go sleep somewhere else without waking him up – and that was the last thing you wanted to do. 

Okay, maybe not the last. 

The last thing you wanted was for him to wake up because you couldn’t stop squirming. 

Paired with the heat of his body, the ache that gathered at the crux of your thighs made it impossible to sleep. It sprouted at his proximity, blossomed at the reminder of his strength, and grew with each of his deep, steady exhales. It pooled in the cradle of your pelvis, flooding through your hips and down. 

Gingerly, you rolled onto your side – but his hips lined up too much with your ass for you to ignore. You tried your other side, but the crook of his neck called to you. You tried your back, and that’s when he spoke. 

“Is something the matter?”

You startled, unaware that he’d been awake this whole time. That kriffing helmet. 

“Can’t sleep, I guess.”

He hummed, the sound going straight to your core. “Not enough space?”

It really wasn’t, but you found yourself not wanting to admit it. It was either this or the cold, uncomfortable cockpit and being curled up next to him was the better option. 

Even if you ended up going mad with want. 

“No,” you replied. “It’s fine.”

He nodded, going still. 

Your eyes ran up the length of his forearm, over the bulk of his bicep. You pictured his arm lifting to rest itself across the dip of your waist, and imagining the weight of it, you let out a shaky exhale. Closing your eyes, you leaned into the fantasy: his hand sliding underneath the band of your thermals, cupping you wholly between your legs. His fingers sliding inside of you with a stretch, your thighs parting to make room for his thick wrist. Slick pooled along your seam and dripped out, and you shifted again on the cot. 

This time, his hand stilled you. 

“Do you want me to sleep somewhere else?” 

“No,” you blurted out, embarrassed. “No. I’m sorry.”

“Do you want…something else?” 

Your cheeks flooded with warmth, and you turned your head to look at him. “Like what?”

He shrugged, the shadowed round of his shoulder moving in the darkness. “You tell me.”

–

It didn’t take long after that to be buried underneath the bulk of his body. 

Every inch of skin that you dreamt about for months bared for your touch, you couldn’t stop exploring him – the fragrant crook of his neck, the smooth planes of muscle that covered his back, the trim sides of his torso and his soft belly dusted with hair. He seemed to revel in your touch, and you imagined that to be the case, with how often he was covered head to toe. 

His hips fit neatly within the cradle of your thighs, and when he filled you with a swift, precise push forward, a flutter erupted in your belly at the idea that he might fuck like he hunts – with competence and skill. Your back arched off his cot to take him deeper, and he groaned in your ear. 

“Fuck, you feel good,” he praised, his knees shifting wider for purchase. His hips kissed the inside of your thighs with every roll forward, his weight spreading them wider underneath his strokes, and your hands splayed across his chest when he pushed himself up on his hands to stroke deeper, harder. Scars littered his chest, memories of his past permanently etched into his skin and something about it tugged at you – the idea that he always came out on top, but paid a price to get there.

Wanting to give him the rest you knew he deserved, you tugged him down on top of you and rolled your bodies until you straddled his lap – a sight that made him hum with appreciation. He tried to sit up to join you, but you pushed him back down. 

“I said you need rest, Mando,” you reminded him of your earlier words, your hips rolling in time with every upwards push of his. The filling heft of his cock had your mouth dropping open, and though you couldn’t see his face, you knew his eyes were fixed on it. “Let me – let me do the work.”

“Okay,” he eventually agreed, his thumb finding the bud of your clit. A few swipes of his touch had you keening, and he rested his other arm back behind his head, as if getting comfortable to watch the show. “I’ll watch while you make yourself come this time, sweet girl. But the next one?”

You moaned, your hips rocking faster against his – forwards into the swirling pressure of the pad of his thumb, and backwards onto the filling thickness of his cock. 

“The next one is mine.”

–

After that first night, he never let you sleep anywhere else. 

The cot much too small for two bodies, you made do by always being joined in one way or another: your limbs entwined, your body draped over his, his cock nestled inside you. Days and sometimes weeks without him at your side, he stripped bare every time he crawled in next to you, loathe to waste any moment without your skin touching his. 

Your face fit into the crook of his neck perfectly, his arm wrapped around your waist just right. For someone that spent so long by himself, it was clear that he was touch starved, but as you found out, so were you. 

Two lonely stars, colliding in a galaxy. 

You got used to his moods and he got used to yours. A routine came easy: you played the mechanic to his pilot, the babysitter to his parent, the vessel for him to pour his love into. And he did, every chance he could get. 

In the cockpit, poured into your mouth. 

In the hull of the ship, splashed along your back. 

In his cot, every single night, in every single way possible – smeared across your chest, pooled on your soft belly, flooded into the depths of your cunt. 

It shouldn’t have been a surprise what happened after that, but it was. 

–

Seated on the edge of the worn exam table, you swallowed hard against a cough that rose in your chest. It tickled the base of your throat, demanding relief and you tucked your face into the crook of your elbow and let out a wet cough, your lungs heavy and sore. 

You had caught it from a bounty, a filthy vagrant that Mando had hauled up the ramp earlier that month. Due to a few choice words that the bounty spit at you, Mando made sure to freeze him (none too kindly) right away, but not before the stranger coughed with force in the small space. 

Not one to see a doctor for his own ailments, you were surprised when he demanded you see one after a couple weeks of the lingering cold. Leaving him waiting in the lobby, you smiled at the immediate berth the other patients gave him when he sat down. 

You picked at your finger, suppressing the urge to cough again. 

The medical droid reassured you. “You’ll be fine. All life signs for you and the child are reading in good condition.”

“The child?” you asked. The kid wasn’t sick, and he wasn’t even here.

“Looks like it’s just a cough. The baby is fine – all vitals are measuring optimal.”

You froze, unable to reply. 

The baby. 

“The…baby?”

The droid laughed, modulated and carefree like their words didn’t just shatter your whole existence. “A couple months along, I’d say. Do you want to listen?”

Gently lifting your tunic, they pressed a monitor to the curve of your stomach and the pulsing heartbeat that met your ears brought instant tears to your eyes. 

“There, there,” the droid soothed, handing you a tissue. “Sounds healthy!”

You walked back to the ship in a daze, your surroundings a blur, your mind stuck on a loop of worry.

He never asked for this. 

This is no life to raise a child in. 

The ship – the ship barely fits the three of you, where the maker is a baby going to go?

The endless questions ate away at you for the rest of the evening, every worst case scenario coming true in your mind. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

On his side facing you, Din (a name he had long ago whispered to you in the darkness of his cot) ran his touch along your arm. He tucked you closer, rubbing your back. “You still feel sick?”

Your cheek rested against the firm heat of his chest, and you listened to his heartbeat – so like the one you heard earlier today. They sounded the same, and tucked safely next to his bulk, you murmured the words into his neck. 

“I’m going to have a baby.”

His visor tilted downwards just as his hand tipped your chin up. He looked down at you, and you wished desperately that you could see his face. Your lip trembled when he said nothing, and he cleared his throat. 

“I…wanted to wait,” he started, and your face crumbled. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologized, cutting him off. Your voice wavered, and you looked away. “I –”

“Stop.” His commanding voice halted your sentence mid-speech. His hold slid from your chin to your cheek, cupping the soft curve. 

“I wanted to wait,” he repeated, softer this time. “Until we could find someone to do the ceremony.”

Your face scrunched in confusion, and he dragged the pad of his thumb across your cheekbone, collecting a stray tear.

“We have a special ceremony we perform, when we bind ourselves to someone for life. It involves…taking our helmet off, so they can see us. So they can know us, better than anyone else.”

Your gaze transfixed on his visor, you held your breath as he reached for the edge of his helmet. 

“You already know me better than anyone else, so…”

He lifted the helmet up, and for the first time, you saw his face. 

He was beautiful – warm, rich brown eyes, ringed with thick lashes. A strong nose, a plush mouth. Stubble that scattered across his cheeks, a moustache that you never would have imagined. His curls were dark and mussed, and you envisioned a baby in your arms with the same color hair. 

The grin that broke across his face was almost as beautiful as the face itself – and every worry you had vanished at the sight of it. 

He cleared his throat, and when he spoke, the sound of his real voice brought fresh tears to your eyes. 

"We are one when together, we are one when parted.” He recited the vows and his hand took yours, placing it on his chest. He let his own touch rest along the curve of your belly. “We will share all, we will raise warriors."

You sobbed, and he laughed – a new, treasured sound that made you cry even harder. 

“You have to repeat it,” he teased. 

Focused on his voice – his real voice, the feeling of hearing it for the first time overwhelming you – you took a deep breath, and stared into his eyes. 

“We are one when together, we are one when parted.” A hitch in your breath broke the vow, and he smiled, his fingers splaying across your skin. “We will share all, we will raise warriors.”

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can I request headcanons for Zayne, and Sylus react gn s/o who always makes it a habit to tell him that they love him whenever they can like when they wake up, before going to sleep, before they leave, and when they return?

Hearing you say such sweet and simple words like I love you at any and every given moment will never not warm his heart, ever.

Sylus could hear you speak the words softly against his chest, right where his heart is when you wake up, almost as though you were whispering secrets to it in such a loving and caring way that it only made it race within his chest and swell with warm emotions within moments of you saying such tender and powerful words.

‘I love you Sylus, stay safe and don’t do anything stupid.’ You’d tell him as you kissed his forehead, pulling away only to rest your own head against his to stare into his crimson eyes, crimson eyes that stared back at you heavily with love and utter adoration as he chuckles. ‘I wouldn’t dream of it my love, for whom shall warm you in bed when I depart?’ He’d ask jokingly.

‘Mephisto.’ You’d reply jokingly as the crow could be heard squawking confusingly from his corner of the room, head tilted to one side.

You brought or perhaps revived a warmth Sylus thought was long buried within his chest.

You brought it forth so easily that he couldn’t help but find himself wanting nothing more then to rush his business meetings just so he could hear you run towards him, burry your head into his chest as you embraced him while telling him how much you loved and missed him; almost as though the confession weighed heavily upon your tongue like it was something you had to admit to before you couldn’t anymore.

He loved how much softer and sweeter the moments before you both drift off to sleep, the last thing he hears is you saying you love him in a sleepy mumble, face buried deep into his chest as sleep encased you both whole. It was a moment he repeats when you’re far away on a mission, knowing damn well he wouldn’t be able to sleep without hearing your voice, not after having gotten use to it after your short stay in his home.

Sylus has become accustomed to you being in his home, with him and blessing it with your warmth and personality. So to have to endure a week without you was enough for Sylus to reach for the phone and call you just to hear you tell him you love him, to know that even if there was distance between the two of you that the love between you was still as strong as it was when your both together. Sylus had grown accustomed to you sharing your thoughts and inner most emotions with him, with you always kissing him on the lips or wherever you could reach and whispering;

‘I love you’ afterwards before going about your day as though you didn’t leave him wanting to keep you locked in his arms in your shared bed, to drink you and your early morning look as you both partake in sharing your warmth, lost in one another as everything else fell away for it didn’t matter as all that truly mattered was love of your life that you held in your arms.

I love you was a strong word but your version of I love you was to say that you loved him after every moment, and in the end he found himself whispering ‘I love you’ against your forehead as he kissed it softly, holding you closer to his chest protectively before you fell into peaceful slumber together with a content smile upon his face.

Stylus was complete for his other half was welhere they belonged; in his arms.

Zayne would feel as though he was back to how he felt when you first admitted your feelings for him each time you reminded him of your love for him.

His smile upon his lips was soft and gentle, his eyes were equally so as he felt light on his feet and his heart sang your name so dreamily even long after you leave his sight.

They were words that one shouldn’t say lightly but when you say ‘I love you Zayne, I’ll see you when you get back from work to watch that new movie together.’ Zayne truly believed he could hear the angels sing as he finds himself walking into work with the goal of going back home to you.

Something of which he had once thought was never going to happen even in a million lifetimes, but he had found himself blessed to even be sharing a bed with you in this lifetime.

‘I love you Zayne.’ You’d whisper softly against his lips after pecking them multiple times, wanting nothing more than to wake your beautiful doctor with some much needed affection, all the while watching the fluttering of his eyelashes as he opens those gorgeous eyes of his to look at you sweetly.

‘I love you too my dearest.’ He relies in his morning voice, rubbing his hand softly up and down your back as he brought you into kiss your temple.

Those three words only made Zayne feel as though the progression of your relationship thus far was more than worth the longing and the pinning he has to endure in silence. Even though you did tell him there were moments where you knew he felt something towards you that went beyond platonic and into something far more romantic and genuine.

‘I love you Zayne’ were words that lived within his head constantly, even if he didn’t show it sometimes he couldn’t help but find himself wanting you to say it more and more.

Was it selfish? Yes but Zayne couldn’t help it, he wanted to hear you say it for as long as he possible could, for he knew he could never get bored of hearing you say it as it was something he had been waiting for all this time.

It was like two long lost souls finally finding each other again after so, so long. It brought a weight off of his shoulders and Zayne was more than anticipating where your future would lead you, especially if admiring to your love for one another was going to become easy as breathing.

[therealcocoshady]

POV : You’re Marshall Mathers’s girlfriend and he worships you

Author’s Note : Hi guys ✨. I feel like it’s been a while since I last published something on here. Enjoy this little blurb I wrote. It’s kind of random but I think it’s kind of cute still 💕.

Marshall Mathers doesn’t really enjoy being treated like a king wherever he goes. He knows people give him special treatment out of respect, because he is a huge fucking superstar, but he doesn’t really care for it. He’s just a normal dude at heart, you know ? He likes it when things are kept simple. He’s not a huge fan of the deference, of people practically bowing and curtsying to him because he is Eminem. It’s weird.

But when it comes to you ? People better treat you like the absolute monarch that you are. This man will not accept anything less for the woman he loves. You are his sun. His days start and end with you. You are a deity he worships day and night and people better put some respect on his lady’s name.

He is not giving you the princess treatment. No. This would be good enough for any peasant. If he could, this man would build altars and monuments for you. You are his religion. Your birthday and the anniversary of your first date are holidays he refuse to work on. Doesn’t matter if he’s offered hundreds of thousands of dollars for a ten minutes performance, he simply refuses to be away from you on those days. And if you so much as utter an « I need you », this man will drop absolutely everything. He’s done it in the past and he absolutely has no regrets about flying for five hours on a day off from tour to be able to surprise you at work after you mentioned it was « so hard being away » from him. He is usually mindful about climate change but for you, this man will turn into Taylor « taking my jet for a ten minutes flight » Swift. He literally doesn’t care about the world burning as long as there is a smile on your face. Marshall is not a big spender but for you, he doesn’t care about numbers. His goddess deserves the very best and, thank God for that merch money, he is able to give it to you. He’s not a diva but he demands the very best for you. He couldn’t care less about the water brought to him in his dressing room before a performance. But he makes sure it’s your favorite brand. Same for snacks. If he has to fly someone to another country to get something for you, he absolutely will. In his mind, it’s the least he can do for the woman who blesses him with her presence. He is almost offended when someone fails to greet you properly and he absolutely is when someone straight up disrespects you. If he could, he would fight duels in your honor. Somehow, you managed to turn this stoic individual in the utmost gentleman. When he’s by your side, you will never be caught walking on the wrong side of the pavement, having to hold your own bags. He’d rather die than have that. But you’ll never be caught. Because he protects you like you’re the most precious treasure there is. He’s never caught in your presence, because he doesn’t want to have you plagued by the media and harassed by fans and, yet, he manages to show you off. In private, he doesn’t even try to hide the fact that he’s head over heels with you. Your name is on his lips constantly, and the way he talks about you shows just how devoted he is. At first, people close to him got a little worried. Who were you ? What were your intentions ? It seemed like you were out of nowhere. Walked into Marshall’s life one day and, from then on, he was addicted. They had every reason to be suspicious. And then, they met you. And they understood. They got to witness the genuineness of your interactions, how your eyes mirrored Marshall’s devotion, the way he leaned into your touch so naturally and just how you seemed to heal the parts of him that had been left raw. For the first time in forever, they saw him at peace. Not merely content. Happy. They expected to hate you, because what kind of high maintenance brat has the most stoic man they ever knew act like a puppy ? Only, they couldn’t. It wasn’t quite clear how things worked out between you and Marshall and, in hindsight, it was none of their business. But they couldn’t hate you when it was clear as day that « Em » as most call him, had finally found a safe space. So you won them over as well, and they gave you the princess treatment.

[lexsssu]

Light (Sung Jinwoo)

TAGS: Jinwoo/Wife!reader, a/b/o dynamics, yandere, possessive behavior, death threats, breeding, impregnation, oneshot Ao3 ver. | Ko-fi | Commissions (OPEN)

‘E-Rank Hunter’ Sung Jinwoo, a title that followed him wherever he went.

Despite being a Hunter, his power was barely above an ordinary human aside from his slightly more durable constitution and slightly increased healing factor. 

So it’s only natural that he’d always get hurt. Hell, he’d even nearly gotten killed several times already too!

It’s not that Jinwoo wanted to be a Hunter in the first place, because aside from the danger, others also made fun of him for his weakness. Even the pay was surprisingly not that great.

Unfortunately, someone in his mid-20s who lacked any viable skills that could land him a normal, stable job could only work for the Hunter’s Association as one of their Hunters thanks to their medical aid. Had it not been for that, he wouldn’t have been able to afford the millions of won in medical bills he owed to the hospital that took care of his mother. 

It’s not even just his mother that he had to provide for, but there was also his little sister and…

“Look Yeonjin, it’s Papa!”

Worn out from another hard days’ work, E-Rank Hunter Sung Jinwoo felt all the fatigue in his body seemingly melt away into nothingness as the sight and scent of his wife and child soothed his weary soul.

“Baba!” Yeonjin babbled excitedly as his father made a beeline straight towards you both.

“Welcome home, honey.” You press a kiss to the corner of his lips, smiling up at him with those beautiful eyes he always finds himself lost in.

This is why even if he didn’t want to, he would still participate in these Association supervised raids.

No sacrifice is too great when it comes to his loved ones and regardless of how incompetent he was as a Hunter, Jinwoo will do everything in his power to ensure that they are cared and provided for.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You’ve been with Sung Jinwoo ever since you were both just awkward teenagers in high school. When his mother succumbed to Eternal Slumber and left the two siblings to fend for themselves, instead of leaving you surprised Jinwoo and moved into their cozy little home and took it upon yourself to keep the house running.

While Jinwoo did his best to provide for the family’s needs, you would ensure that Jinah and the house was taken care of, this of course also included the man himself whenever he came home from a raid. You even managed to get a remote job that helped with the bills in spite of juggling that with your online college classes as well. 

You and Jinwoo had gone through so much together over the past decade so was it any surprise you’d end up married and with a child? 

Former friends and schoolmates might have tried to dissuade you time and time again to leave him, pitying you for spending your youth making ends meet and watching over your comatose mother-in-law, Jinah, and now your own baby.

But you don’t need their ‘advice’ when it all basically boiled down to having you leave your family because you ‘deserved better.’

They are already what’s best for you.

Why can’t they see that?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“ How are you and Sung Jinwoo? Sorry I couldn’t check up on you guys sooner. Life’s been pretty hectic on my end.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t attend your baby shower before! I had an important appointment that I couldn’t bail out on back then. Why don’t we go out for coffee to catch up?”

“...way too long since we last got together! Our whole class is gonna have a reunion this weekend. Everyone will be stoked to see you and Sung Jinwoo there— ”

Beep.

You don’t have the chance to reply to the latest call you received from another ‘old friend’ when your husband pressed the ‘end’ button in one swift movement. Though his face looked impassive, his scent clearly revealed his agitation…not to mention the shadows that seemed to curl spread from the soles of his feet.

“First they tell you that I’m not good enough for you and that you should leave me, but now they’re all tripping over themselves just to get to me through you…” His lips stretched into a snarl, power rolling off of him in waves at their blatant shamelessness.

Jinwoo’s inner alpha snorted and growled, the mere thought of these impertinent swine daring to involve themselves with his mate even if to gain some sort of favor from him made him see red. 

How dare they?! He will rip and tear into their bodies and reap their souls to become his puppets if they so much as even approach you. Did they think he was bound by the rules of ordinary mortals? Foolish! 

The hunter’s alpha grinned diabolically, cackling from within the confines of his soul at thought of giving them their just desserts.  

“My big, strong alpha…Always willing to jump into the fray to provide for and protect us…How can I even think about choosing anyone else?” You crooned and purred at him, the soft sounds and your calming scent enveloping him and taming the shadows that once agitatedly tried to claw their way out of him to carry out his will. 

Burrowing into his arms, you embrace his waist and nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck as best as you could considering his height had also shot up recently. A few soothing kisses and kitten licks against the skin of his neck later, Jinwoo’s darkness ceased pouring out of him.

Because now he focused on wholeheartedly pouring every last drop of cum into your quivering pussy, thrusting weakly even as his fat knot plugged you up. Your lower belly bulged with the amount of cum he’d already fucked into you, but he still didn’t think it was enough.

At the rate he was going, he’s definitely gonna knock you up again.

Not that you were complaining. It was about time for Yeonjin to finally have a sibling to love.

[shepscapades]

DBHC TIMELINE[S]

This post is an extension of the DBHC Masterpost, linked also in my blog’s header/bio.

The images below feature two separate timelines: one for Hermitcraft Season 8, and one for Season 9. These timelines feature prominent/notable events that have been posted about, drawn for, written for, etc. Basically, every major post from this au has ended up/will go on the season timeline it belongs! 

Each event is labelled by the title it was given wherever it's linked elsewhere on the Master Post: in most cases, these posts are linked on their respective Character Post Lists. For Example, the post named 'Etho Tries Syncing with Bdubs' on the Masterpost will be labelled as such on the timeline. Additionally, each event is color-coded by character!

✧NOTE: NOT EVERY DBHC POST OR DRAWING IS ON THESE TIMELINES✧

To avoid extreme clutter, I picked the most notable moments or events from each Character’s Post List that would serve as sufficient anchor points. So, if you want a more specific idea of where every single individual post lands, you can reference the timeline(s) alongside individual character post lists, where everything is chronologically organized! You should be able to get a good overview of events and characters involved from these timelines, but all of the details and in-between moments or silly things are all on the individual character posts (links to which, again, can be found at the bottom of the primary DBHC Masterpost)!

Lastly! Like everything else on the Masterpost, I will do my best to update this regularly as any major moments or comics come out :] 

Additional Notes: 

Any grey-colored events on the timeline refer to events that have been referenced/discussed in some capacity but have no unique drawing, writing, or otherwise post dedicated to it (for example, Etho shutting down at the end of Season 8 is placed on the S8 timeline despite nothing being drawn for it yet). 

The black ticks throughout the timeline were marked for my own reference as indications of the IRL timeline of months throughout which videos were released, but they aren’t labeled as such, because I don’t headcanon time passing at the same rate in minecraft as it does in real life (i.e, Season 8 lasted about six months IRL, but I imagine it lasting about a year or so in canon, so it’s not 1 to 1). Basically, the ticks were placed as a guide for me as I continue to figure out where to put everything, but they’re not strict “monthly” markers or anything. 

Similarly, each Life Series is expanded slightly on their locations on the timelines, since I also headcanon time moving differently on the Life Series servers compared to Hermitcraft. From a Hermitcraft-side perspective, players are gone for approximately… 3ish weeks (give or take), whereas players actively participating on the Life server will have been gone for what feels like 2-3 months to them. It’s also not 1 to 1 here, so I just expanded the Life Series sections and then ticked them off by Session Number (Last Life having 9 ticks/sections, Double Life having 6 sections, etc). This makes placing any Life Series events accurately (while stuff is still happening on Hermitcraft) a little easier!

[hannahbarberra162]

Long Forgotten Fairytale, Chapter 2 (Shamrock x reader, soft yandere)

18+ MDNI | on Ao3

The other chapter

TW: canon typical violence, slavery. Here Sham and reader are literal children. There will be NSFW elements later on when they are older.

With every day that passed Shamrock was increasingly pleased and more certain in his decision to not kill his slave girl. It had been about six months and Shamrock had come to expect your presence during his daily life, not remembering what it had been like before there was always someone waiting to fulfill his every whim. He couldn’t believe he had killed so many servants before you when having someone who knew his daily routines was much more convenient. It didn’t hurt that you were a little bit pretty as well - in that raw, unpolished way that slaves sometimes were. You weren’t much to look at but you were better looking than the male slaves he had before, he supposed. 

Wherever he went, you trailed along behind him like a dog and adjusted the smaller matters to his liking. But more than just anticipating his needs, you observed as he excelled in everything he set his mind to. He had even told you which window to watch out of as he sparred his opponents so you’d be able to have the best view of him when he was outside the castle. Shamrock always felt he performed better while he was sure you were watching, something in him desiring you to see him at his best. Your presence in his daily routines was irreplaceable, Shamrock decided. He liked your fastidiousness and attention to detail as you polished his armor, made his bed, and brought him refreshments, but the task he enjoyed you completing most was brushing his long hair.

He enjoyed feeling your fingers in his hair as your soft voice told him about his own exploits. One time as he watched you gently brush his red hair, his mind wandered to thoughts of his mother doing the same while he sat on her lap many years prior. He must have been much younger since he couldn’t really remember his mother’s face any longer, just the feel of her long fingers roaming through his hair, wavy like her own… Shamrock abruptly stood up and quickly shoved that memory to the back of his mind. Shamrock saw the minute flinch of your shoulders, nearly undetectable to the untrained eye, and frowned. Over the months you’d spent in his service, he had picked up on a few of your mannerisms.

“Perhaps I should cut off my hair like my br- like others do,” Shamrock said by means of apology. He wouldn’t apologize - that would be unthinkable - but he meant to show you he wasn’t upset with your actions. As he spoke, Shamrock looked over his image in the mirror. Everyone told him that he made a fine young man but whenever he saw himself he could only see his father. 

“As you wish, Young Master,” was your reply. Shamrock had grown adept in understanding the true meanings behind your words in addition to your non verbal communication. “As you wish” was your method of disagreeing with him while not suggesting your real opinion. 

“Speak true,” Shamrock demanded, already annoyed at the extra time it would take to get the truth out of you. He had been trying to get you to tell him your thoughts and opinions over the course of months but you were reluctant to ever speak your mind. Since the math incident and consequent tutoring, he knew you were smart and could think for yourself so it bothered him that he had to constantly dig for your opinions. 

“Your hair is beyond compare, Young Master,” you said, looking at its length in the mirror while running your fingers through the section you’d just tenderly brushed. His overgrown bangs hung in his eyes, obscuring his vision, while the longer sections in the back hung in loose waves. He was the only remaining member of his family with long, wavy hair and something in his heart wanted to keep it that way.

“These front bits irritate me during battle, they fly into my eyes,” Shamrock griped, pushing his bangs back from his face. He wished you would resume your brushing but felt pathetic asking you for it directly.

“Perhaps I could style it for you, Young Master? Would you allow me the honor?” you asked in a hushed whisper. You were so fearful that someone would overhear you and slay you on the spot, Shamrock thought, as if he’d allow such a thing. No, it would be too time consuming to train another how he liked his tea, when he liked to read in the East library and where in the West, and how he liked his armor polished. It was better that you were kept alive, even if only for his own convenience. 

Shamrock settled back down in the chair in front of the mirror and watched as your deft fingers braided the front section back, tying his hair into a half ponytail. His face was framed by some of the longer sections but overall the results were pleasing to the eye. He considered himself in the mirror and turned his head to the side to view the results. He shook his head vigorously but not a hair fell out of place. 

“Is it to your liking, Young Master?” you asked, still hovering behind him. Shamrock noted your lips pressed together as your hands gripped the hairbrush tightly. He hadn’t struck you since the first days of your time together so he didn’t understand why you cowered so much around him. 

“Yes, very good. I shall keep it this way for the time being. See to it that you style it this way for me daily,” Shamrock declared, crossing his legs. You didn’t smile at him but your face relaxed, which Shamrock supposed was good enough. Maybe one day he’d see a smile - not that he cared, he was simply tired of seeing your fear on your face. You nodded and Shamrock had worn his hair in that style since that day. 

Despite the overwhelming success of his idea to keep you alive, there were some bumps in the road. At first you were living - well, he wasn’t sure exactly - but he moved you to the empty closet adjacent to his room. You had gone off to fetch him a snack one night and had taken a few minutes too long for his liking. Sighing, he left his room as a strange feeling settled over his chest. Grabbing his sword, he set off in the general direction he watched you sometimes take as you carried away his meal trays.

Walking down the shadowy hallway, Shamrock heard the tinkling of small bells. No, that wasn’t quite right, it wasn’t bells, it was something lighter - some sound Shamrock was sure he hadn’t heard before. Coming up to a turn in the hall, Shamrock peered around the corner to see what was making the happy noise. It was you, laughing into your hand as a boy slave near your own age said something close to your ear. You were carrying his food on a tray with your hands while the slave continued to sully your hearing with his words. Even though his gut burned with hatred, Shamrock made no move. He wanted to hear the sound again, the kind of sound he’d never heard you make in his presence. 

The slave said something else to you, making you gasp in false outrage while a smile flitted across your face. You slapped the boy’s chest with one hand and pushed him away lightly, taking the tray in both hands once more as you moved down the hall closer to Shamrock. The boy watched you leave as his eyes looked you up and down. Shamrock made a note of his characteristic features - a missing pinky on the left hand, a birthmark on the neck - for justice to be meted out later. Shamrock stepped back into the shadows where the light of the lamps did not reach and awaited your approach. Shamrock’s frown deepened the longer he had to wait for you to pass as he replayed you touching the other slave over and over in his mind, the sound of your laugh mocking him in his memory. 

You hurried along but as you passed, Shamrock’s arm shot out and grabbed your elbow, his grip unrelenting as he spun you to face him. The silver tray dropped to the stone floor with as clatter as you sucked in a breath, not calling out like he had expected you to. Your body was chilled through your thin dress, goosebumps lining your skin as Shamrock gave you an assessing look. He didn’t have to say anything as you withered beneath his gaze, pressing your hands and lips together, your body shaking with anticipation of his next actions. The silence grew heavy as Shamrock refused to speak to you while the laws dictated you could not address him. He saw beads of sweat lining your brow as you worried over the consequences of your actions. 

“I should kill you both,” Shamrock hissed at you, making your shoulders visibly shake. Shamrock knew he should kill you for wasting his time, for leaving him waiting while you had fun with another slave. You didn’t answer but ducked your head, awaiting the blow that would end your life. You didn’t beg or plead, just waited until Shamrock passed his judgement over you. And yet his hand rested on the pommel of his sword rather than gripping it as displeasure washed over him. He turned on his heel and you followed, the silence between you deafening. You were safe, he wasn't going to kill you. The boy, on the other hand, Shamrock would have to think of a suitable punishment for touching what was his. 

After that night Shamrock had changed your living situation. He didn’t want other slaves near you when he wasn’t witness to the interaction, pulling sounds from you he’d never heard and could not get you to replicate. It was preposterous to think that you’d have  any kind of relationship with anyone else when the only person you needed to care about or for was himself. It almost felt like when one of his favored horses accepted another rider but worse, like the horse itself had selected another rider. It wasn’t a feeling Shamrock was used to and he certainly didn’t want to be accustomed to it either.

When he had told you that you’d be moving closer to his room, you had brought your meager belongings - another dress and a thin blanket - with you one morning after he’d commanded you to relocate. You stood in the middle of his empty closet, shifting your weight on your feet on the carpeting. Your face wasn't displaying any kind of emotion other than the general fear he'd long come to expect when you were faced with new situations. 

“Well? Is it not enough?” Shamrock scoffed. Yes, it was a closet but it had windows and a door and even a small half bath. Surely that would be good enough for someone like you.

“It is magnificent, Young Master,” you said, clutching your things to your chest tighter.

“Have the rest of your belongings brought up by evening, I don’t want you sleeping out elsewhere again.”

“You have blessed me, thank you Young Master,” you said, moving towards him and sinking to your knees. You bowed your head to him with tears running down your face, shaking slightly with the effort to keep yourself from crying aloud. Shamrock’s face was impassive but in truth, he was confused. He closed the distance between you and extended his hand, not exactly sure what he was going to do. Perhaps pat your head like a favored dog? He’d never comforted anyone but he didn’t like the tears on your face - though he couldn’t place why. It didn’t bother him when the slaves he fought on the battlefield cried for mercy, it only annoyed him further.

You reached out with your own smaller hands and fervently kissed the back of his gloved hand, causing Shamrock to snatch it back out of shock. He had seen favored female slaves do such things before, it wasn’t completely out of the question, but he hadn’t expected the gesture from you. His heart pricked with a small pang of regret as you rocked back on your heels and hung your head. He almost extended his hand again to see if you would repeat your action but he decided against it. 

The next morning, you awoke him as you normally did by opening the shades to his room. After getting him ready for the day and strapping him into his armor for his battle practice, Shamrock poked his head into the closet and was surprised to see it still empty. Turning on his heel towards you, you took a step back away from him as you avoided eye contact. He grabbed you by the upper arm but kept his fingers light to prevent further bruising. He saw bruises where he gripped you roughly the night before and he found it gauche, as if it said he ruled you by force.

“I ordered you to have the rest of your belongings brought up. Where is your bed? Your pillows and blankets? Did you defy me and sleep in the slave quarters once more?” Your eyes were wide and you shook your head furiously as Shamrock waited for your answer. 

“I have no other belongings, Young Master. I stayed in the room as you commanded, I would never defy you.” Shamrock’s ire was sated but he looked at the empty closet. The thin blanket you’d brought with you was folded neatly on the floor and your change of clothing was placed next to it. Even though the floor was carpeted in the finest, plushest, ruchest carpet available in the world, you would be able to perform your duties better if you slept well. It wasn't that Shamrock cared about your needs, he only cared about how  diligently you were able to work for him. 

“Have a cot brought up. Pillow and thick blanket too. I shall be locking you in at night,” he decided, turning away from the closet.

Though Shamrock tolerated your presence at all times, he enjoyed most when you spoke to him in soft tones at night before he went to sleep. You told him about all the amazing things he’d done during the day, never failing to highlight the incredible way he fought or how he’d gotten difficult math problems correct after you’d explained them to him once or twice. But sometimes conversation shifted to other topics. At times you told him some mild gossip about the servants but the best was when he convinced you to share some of the fantastical stories the slaves told among themselves. He couldn’t outright demand them from you, you denied that the slaves spoke to one another at all. Instead he asked you for a story, something to relieve his mind of its burdens and after a few moments you would always acquiesce, unable to deny his requests. He wasn’t sure if they were all from other slaves or if you made up some of them yourself but he heartily enjoyed them all either way. The stories soothed him until he was able to calm his own mind, after which he locked you in your closet and fell fast asleep with the knowledge that you’d be waiting for him the following morning.

Under the glow of the candle, you sat at the end of his bed and told him story after story, each more marvelous than the last. There were bold, brave knights who fought to save beautiful maidens, dashing sword fights, self driving horse carriages, lands with no water at all, treasures, fairies, evil Kings and Queens, and monsters beyond his wildest imagination. Yes, he liked them all, but the one he favored the most was one about a cursed prince who had been turned into a hideous beast. The Beast locked away a beautiful maiden in his castle, keeping her as prisoner with him in his loneliness. In order to break the curse, the Beast had to get the maiden to fall in love with him, meanwhile the Beast’s estranged brother was planning on slaying the beast, unaware that the Beast was the transformed Prince. The two fought to the death but the maiden’s love for the Beast saved him in the end and they lived happily ever after. Shamrock had made you tell it so many times he practically knew it by heart himself, though he enjoyed it when you told him the story time and time again.

“You’ve forgotten the part about the maiden falling in love with the Beast,” Shamrock complained one night as you told him the story again at his request. You paused in your telling and looked at him. He’d gotten you to look at him, though not in the eyes of course, since it bothered him when you looked away when you spoke. 

“Young Master does not favor that section of the story, you prefer the sword fights with the Beast’s brother. I do not mean to bore you, Young Master,” you said quietly. Shamrock exhaled sharply through his nose.

“I like all the parts of the story. Yes, I like when the Beast fights his brother and slashes his face with his claws but I also like when the maiden finally falls in love with him while trapped in his castle. She’s weak to his charms, enthralled by his strength and action.”

“She falls in love with his kindness for her,” you replied in a steady voice. “He shows her he isn’t a Beast like she thought, that he has no charms where she is involved. He could be cruel to her, she is at his mercy but instead he helps her. He shows her the library and lets her read at her leisure. He feeds her fine foods and values her intelligence, the feature about herself she likes most. That’s why she loves the Beast, not his battle prowess,” you said, looking back down at the floor. Shamrock was silent as he digested your words. He was almost sure you were saying something else, but the meaning was just beyond his grasp. You sat in silence, waiting for Shamrock’s next command.

“In any case, do not skip any parts of the story. I enjoy them all,” he declared, setting his hands behind his head. 

“Yes, Young Master.”

Yes, Shamrock had made the right decision in not killing you. He began bringing you outside to his fighting lessons and subsequent matches, both to tend to his needs as well as to watch his prowess. The first time he had brought you, it had been a cold and windy day, the breeze nipping at him even through his many layers. The grounds were muddy from the previous day’s rain and the cold wet slop seemed to penetrate every seam and pore. In between bouts, he looked over to ensure you were watching him as he struck down his foes. 

What he saw displeased him immensely -  you were shivering as the wind whipped your hair out of your face, your feet covered nearly to the knee in mud. You were wearing the same thin house clothes you wore every day, and likely the same slippers as well. Your fingers were blue from cold and even though your eyes were trained on the battlefield, they were red rimmed and your cheeks shiny. You must have felt Shamrock looking over at you because you dropped your gaze to your feet.

Shamrock nearly lost his next match.

The next day you dutifully followed Shamrock outside, but this time dressed in a thick wool dress and leather boots, complete with a padded jacket and gloves. No one commented on your change in clothing - who would dare? - and Shamrock was able to concentrate on his opponents now that he didn’t have to hear your sniffling. Shamrock defeated more slaves than ever before, his sword dripping with blood by the time his matches were over.

That night, you once more appeared before Shamrock to tell him a story, but somehow you weren’t with him. You were physically there but the light had gone from your eyes, the deadened state so similar to other slaves he had seen. You told him his exploits as before but usually once you started telling you would add details and use your hands to craft the story into something fantastic that he could picture in his mind's eye. But tonight your hands sat in your lap as your dull voice told him about the slaves he had slain on the training field. After a few moments, Shamrock stopped you with a wave of his hand.

“What is the matter with you?” Shamrock rebuked you, his tone more irritated than he truly felt. He was tired from the day’s training but he couldn’t let you think that your behavior was acceptable.

“I apologize, Young Master. Please let me know the justice -”

“No, no. Speak true,” Shamrock said, wanting to cut to the heart of the matter immediately. You remained silent as you wet your lips with your tongue. 

“Was I not impressive today?” Shamrock prodded. He had been proud of his techniques, it would be a shame if you didn’t think the same.

“You were amazing as always, Young Master,” you stated while picking at your nails. 

“Then why are you so…small?” Shamrock couldn’t think of a word that would describe the way you were folded into yourself. Every Celestial Dragon was loud and big and proud but now you looked like a gentle breeze could carry you off into the night.

“I am a slave, Young Master.” Shamrock scoffed - you were always speaking in circles, your meaning elusive as you tried to avoid his wrath. 

“Of course you are a slave, you are my slave, lest you forget. Now tell me before I anger, what is the matter with you?”

“You fought many slaves this afternoon and defeated them all, Young Master. I…I knew some of them well,” you said in a quiet voice. A single tear ran down your cheek and Shamrock impulsively reached out to touch it. You startled and jerked back, your doleful eyes brimming with tears. Shamrock was unmoved by your tears, he wasn’t upset he had killed the slaves but…

“I am done with you for the night, I am too tired to hear of my exploits. Be gone to your quarters,” Shamrock demanded, turning over to face away from you. The bed dipped as you stood up and hovered near the bed. 

“Praised be your name, Young Master,” you said with a deep bow as you padded to the closet. Shamrock stood up to lock you in for the night, following behind you. Shamrock lingered by the doorway and watched you settle onto the small cot on the floor. He was about to shut the door and lock you in when a thought came to him. 

“I am in need of tougher opponents on the battlefield; slaves are below my current level of ability. They are no challenge for me, I slay them too easily. I will have masters in various martial arts brought to train under instead. Tomorrow begins a new style of regimen for me and I expect your presence on the field to observe.” Shamrock did not look at your face as he shut the door and turned the key in the lock. 

Taglist: @mfreedomstuff @rebeccawinters @sanjisleggy @nerium-lil @unwillingstars

[screeching-bunny]

may i request some yan!butler/maid hcs? ur fics/hcs r like my lifeline ALSO love love the name Ligma (srry for the poor grammar, english is my first language/hj)

Yandere! Butler Hcs

Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Yandere Thoughts, Bad Writing, Stalking, Possessive Behavior, Reader is Referred as ‘You’

A/N: LIGMA BALLZ. Anyways thanks for liking my name it’s so fucking awesome isn’t it?

🌟 Yandere! Butler who’s a year older than you and has been serving you ever since your teenage years. He’s dedicated and willing to spend the rest of his life serving you as long as it means being by your side forever. He first becomes enamored by you when you happen to come by the shop he was working at the time. He was enchanted by you and after finding out that you were a noble, he began grooming himself in order to be the perfect servant for you. When the position of being an attendant opened up in your manor, he quickly signed up for it. Yandere! Butler made sure to perform his duties as perfectly and diligently as possible while in that position. It was all to ensure that he would be promoted to be personal butler.

🌟 Yandere! Butler was not able to communicate with you when he was first hired to your manor due to being too low of a rank. He could only stare at you longingly from afar and wish that he could be closer to you. Yandere! Butler during this time period would discreetly follow you around wherever you went. Although he wasn’t allowed to talk to you, he still wanted to feel like he was a part of your life, like some secret protector. While doing this he’s definitely stolen a few of your possessions and stored them for his own personal use.

🌟 Yandere! Butler is so enthralled when he finally gets promoted to being your butler. Finally!!! After all these years he can finally talk and touch his beloved person! He’s so excited that he can’t stop shaking with joy when he hears the news. Every waking moment of his life from this point in time will belong to you and only you. He is willing to do anything you ask of him. No matter how small or difficult the task is, he will make sure to complete it as if his life depended on it. As long as it gets you to look and notice him then it is all worth it.

🌟 Yandere! Butler is only loyal towards you. He is not willing to take orders from anyone but you, even if it’s from your own family members. How dare they try to take away his time and thoughts of you away from him? Have they no shame?! Yandere! Butler would definitely be willing to fight anyone who dares to insult you. He doesn’t care if they are young or elderly, his hands are rated E for everyone. His love language is words of affection, so get ready to hear a barrage of compliments every waking moment of your life. Even when you’re not around, he’s still singing praises about you much to the displeasure of literally everyone else.

Yandere! Butler: “Did you see them today! I swear they get more dashing every time I see them. I wonder if they’ll let me touch their–”

Random Maid: (crying) “PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, SHUT UP!!! IT’S BEEN TWO HOURS!!!”

🌟 Yandere! Butler is in charge of your everyday routine. He’s the one planning all of your meals and makes them personally. He will get upset if anyone but him makes you food because he makes sure to plan it perfectly in order to fit your nutritional needs. He makes sure to take care of you as if you were porcelain glass. His movements with you are light and delicate almost as if he were scared that you would break if he were ever too rough with you. He loves to hear you talk about your day and ramble on about meaningless things. It’s somewhat therapeutic to him and it’s like listening to an asmr podcast in his eyes. He takes in everything that you say and a majority of times gives good advice when you need it. If you ever fall in love, never tell him. He will either gut that person alive or give you the worst possible love advice you have ever heard.

“This guy I met at the bakery was super attractive. How do you think I should approach him?”

Yandere! Butler: (screaming on the inside) “You should tell him that he’s gross. I heard nowadays guys find it attractive when people play hard to get.”

🌟 Yandere! Butler legitimately thinks that you are the most perfect person in the universe and that no one deserves you, including himself. He doesn’t care that you may not ever love him, just allow him to stay by your side all of eternity and he’ll be happy. You could tear him apart or take everything he owns and he’d still be loyal toward you. When he signed that contract, he did not only just promise to be your butler but also made a heartfelt vow that everything he does will be for your greater good. He loves the look of a smile on your face and would do anything to keep it there. Murder is not beneath him, if anyone dares to make you cry then he won’t hold back. Whether it be poison, decapitation, drowning, and etc. He’s willing to do it for you, all in the name of love.

🌟 Yandere! Butler takes care of any task that you deem stressful and overwhelmed by. If he sees any type of distraught look on your face he is taking over. Has that business deal been causing you to lose sleep? Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, he’ll make sure to handle everything. Are you getting a migraine while doing some paperwork? Well then, wait right there as he brews you some tea and he’ll get right in on working on it. If he ever sees you sneeze and sniffle then he is going straight mama bear mode. He’ll force you to stay in bed even if you aren't really sick and he won’t listen to any of your protests. No job is a headache to him when it involves you in the picture. So why don’t you just sit back and relax so that he can just take care of you.

[longing-for-rain]

Katara and Mutuality in Relationships

There are lots of conflicting opinions about which characters Katara felt attraction towards, which characters she didn’t, and how long she felt that attraction. I see in most cases, people point to quick clips of her faintly blushing or kissing another character on the cheek as evidence, but I think these kind of takes miss the nuance of the purpose attraction serves in a story.

Most importantly, I see these characters treated as if they are actually people capable of making their own decisions. It’s important to remember that these are fictional characters. They don’t make their own choices; the writers make their choices for them for the purpose of telling a story. From that standpoint, it’s more valuable to examine how a character’s story and narrative themes tie into their relationships with other characters. Animators can shove in a kiss or a blush wherever they want, but it’s harder to demonstrate through storytelling how and why two characters might feel attraction towards one another, and how a relationship between them would develop both characters and contribute to the overarching themes of the story.

In other words, when discussing which characters Katara is “attracted” to, I’m discussing which relationships and actions within the narrative build on her established story and arc. Romance is always integrated into a story for a reason, and considering that reason is important.

Unfortunately, ATLA is very much a product of its time in this way. It’s easy to see what romance adds to the arcs of the male characters—but not so much with the female characters. All three canon relationships (kataang, sukka, and maiko) follow this trend to some degree. The primary purpose of the woman in this narrative is to act as a prize for the man for performing some good deed. Once they’re together, she ceases having her own motivations and becomes an extension of the male character she’s dating. This is pretty blatant with Suki—she barely had a personality in that later seasons; she is there to be Sokka’s girlfriend. Similarly, Katara becomes a completely different character—she’s even animated differently—when the narrative pushes her into romantic scenes with Aang. Her character is flattened.

So what is Katara’s arc, and how do the romantic interactions she has throughout the series contribute to this?

Well, that could be a whole other essay itself, but to put it simply, Katara’s arc is one of a young girl devastated by grief at a young age clinging to hope that she has the power to fight and change the world for the better. Which she does as she gains power and confidence throughout the series—culminating in her defeating Azula in the finale.

But the part I want to focus on here is how Katara connects with other characters. She connects with them over shared experiences of grief and loss.

Take Haru, for instance.

Haru: After the attack, they rounded up my father and every other earthbender, and took them away. We haven't seen them since.

Katara: So that's why you hide your earthbending.

Haru: Yeah. Problem is…the only way I can feel close to my father now is when I practice my bending. He taught me everything I know.

Katara: See this necklace? My mother gave it to me.

Haru: It’s beautiful.

Katara: I lost my mother in a Fire Nation raid. This necklace is all I have left of her.

Haru: It’s not enough, is it?

Katara: No.

This isn’t just a throwaway moment; it’s an important character moment that leads up to growth and the progression of Katara’s overall story, both in this individual episode and in the whole series.

Katara finds her power in the connections she’s able to make with other characters. It’s a powerful driving force for her that makes her a strong character even before her bending abilities develop. Imprisoned was such an important episode to establish who Katara is and what her power is, and adds so much to her arc.

But there is one line in particular from the above exchange that also stands out: Haru says “it’s not enough, is it?” and Katara agrees. Even this early in the series, we’re establishing the fact that despite her drive and hopeful outlook, Katara feels deeply hurt, she feels a deep sense of loss that she opens up about to other characters in moments like these. But unlike Haru…Katara can’t go rescue her mother. Her mother is dead, and we see her grapple with that grief throughout the series.

Another character she reaches out to like this is Jet.

Jet: Longshot over there? His town got burned down by the Fire Nation. And we found The Duke trying to steal our food. I don't think he ever really had a home.

Katara: What about you?

Jet: The Fire Nation killed my parents. I was only eight years old. That day changed me forever.

Katara: Sokka and I lost our mother to the Fire Nation.

Jet: I’m so sorry, Katara.

Another important note about Jet is that there are explicit romantic feelings from Katara in this episode. Again, Katara empathizes with another character through a shared sense of loss. Sadly, in this case, Jet manipulated her feelings and tricked her into helping in his plot to flood the village…but those feelings were undeniably there.

That was the tragedy in this episode, but it also gives the audience so much information about Katara as a character: what motivates her, and what she wants. Katara is established as a character who wants someone who will connect with her and empathize with her over her loss—her greatest sense of trauma. She wants to help others but also receive support in return. The reason why she was smitten with Jet, beyond just initial attraction, is because he gave her a sense of that before Katara realized his true motivations.

A lot of people make the claim that Aang is good for Katara because he also feels a sense of great loss and trauma. And while on paper that’s true…does he really demonstrate that? I just gave two examples of characters Katara connected with this way, and both responded with deep empathy to what she said. Very early on in the show—the third episode—Katara attempts to connect with Aang the same way. How does he respond?

Katara: Aang, before we get to the temple, I want to talk to you about the airbenders.

Aang: What about 'em?

Katara: Well, I just want you to be prepared for what you might see. The Fire Nation is ruthless. They killed my mother, and they could have done the same to your people.

Aang: Just because no one has seen an airbender, doesn't mean the Fire Nation killed them all. They probably escaped!

Just compare this exchange to Haru and Jet. No effort to empathize, not even a “sorry for your loss” or anything. It’s a stark contrast, and the reason for that is because this narrative entirely centers Aang. Katara’s narrative always seems to be secondary to his when they’re together—which is exactly my point when I say this relationship has a fundamental lack of mutuality. It’s built that way from the beginning of the series. It does not add to Katara’s arc nor establish what about this dynamic would attract her.

And, look, before someone jumps down my throat about this…I’m not saying Aang is a horrible person for this response. I think it’s a sign that he’s immature and has a fundamentally different approach to problems than Katara. Katara is a character who has been forced to take on responsibilities beyond her years due to being a child of a war-torn world. Aang’s approach to problems is avoidance while Katara never had that luxury. It doesn’t mesh well.

This is all in Book 1. I honestly could have gotten on board with Kataang if the series meaningfully addressed these issues…but it didn’t. In fact, they actually got worse in some ways.

Back to Katara’s mother. We’ve established that this is a core part of Katara’s character and like in the scene with Haru, she indicates that this is an unresolved issue that pains her. But then, in Book 3, Katara actually does get a chance to confront this pain.

This would have been a powerful moment. Surely the character who is meant to be her partner, her equal, would have been there for her. Surely he would have understood and supported her, fulfilling her narrative and adding to her story.

But Aang didn’t do that. I won’t go into details because there are a million analyses out there on The Southern Raiders, but Aang’s response to Katara was the opposite of understanding. He got angry with her, insinuated that she was a monster for wanting revenge, and tried to dictate her behavior according to his own moral values. And importantly, from a narrative standpoint, he did not go with Katara. One of the most important events in her arc, and Aang didn’t support her—he actually tried stopping her. He didn’t contribute to her growth and development.

Also noteworthy:

Katara: But I didn’t forgive him. I’ll never forgive him.

Even at the end of the episode, Aang clearly doesn’t understand at all what Katara is feeling. This line demonstrates it perfectly. He thinks she forgave him when that wasn’t the case at all…but of course, he didn’t even accompany her, so he didn’t see what actually took place. His worldview is fundamentally different from hers, and he’s consistently too rigid in his morality and immature to center Katara’s feelings.

Throughout Katara’s whole arc, her most significant character moments, Aang’s character just doesn’t come through the way Katara’s constantly does for him. Their narrative lacks mutuality. When Katara and Aang are together, she becomes an accessory to him. The ending scene is a perfect demonstration of this.

Now, to address the elephant in the room.

Which character does actually add to Katara’s narrative and support her growth as a character?

Correct! I just talked about how important The Southern Raiders is to Katara’s character and story, how it’s a chance for her to finally address the grief she’s been carrying since Book 1. And who stood by her side throughout this pivotal moment? Right—Zuko did.

You can talk all you want about how he’s a “colonizer” while Aang’s people suffered genocide, but you’re forgetting that “show, don’t tell” is one of the most basic aspects of storytelling. The fact is, despite how it looks on paper, Zuko was the one there for Katara at her critical moments. Zuko empathized with Katara more than Aang ever did—as demonstrated in this episode. Zuko never once brought up his own cultural values. Zuko never once told Katara what to do. Zuko’s position was that Katara should be the one to decide, and that he would support any choice she made. He supported her decision to spare Yon Rha, but he would have also supported her if she decided to kill him. I actually found this episode to be a satisfying reversal to what is typically seen in TV—for once, the female character is centered while her male counterpart takes the backseat and becomes a supporting role to her narrative.

Even before this, Zuko is shown to empathize with Katara.

Zuko: I’m sorry. That’s something we have in common.

I think what gets me about this scene is the fact that he’s still Katara’s enemy, and she was just yelling about how she hates him and his people. But despite that, Zuko still empathizes with Katara. She is fundamentally human to him, and he expresses that to her in a way that allows them to connect. Zuko stands to gain nothing from this. It’s true that Azula entered the picture and twisted things around—but in this moment, Zuko’s compassion is genuine. His instinct was to respond to her grief with empathy, just like she consistently does for other characters.

And finally, how else does Zuko add to Katara’s arc?

I don’t think there is any more perfect of an example than the finale itself—the culmination of the arcs and development of all characters.

Zuko and Katara fight together. In a heartbeat, Zuko asks Katara to fight by his side against Azula, because he trusts her strength. She’s his equal—both in his mind, and in a narrative sense.

Then, this:

Both of their roles are so critical in this fight. They both save each other. The scene has such raw emotion to it. These characters were together at the conclusion of their respective arcs for a reason.

This is the perfect conclusion to Katara’s arc. She just played a critical role in ending the war that has caused her trauma her whole life. She just demonstrated her mastery of waterbending (another thing she’s dreamed of throughout the series) by defeating the world’s most powerful firebender during Sozin’s Comet. Even though she had help as all characters do, these are victories that belong to her and demonstrate the growth and power of her character. And to top it all off? She was able to save Zuko’s life. She didn’t have to endure the pain of feeling helpless to do anything while someone else died for her; this time, she had an active role, she changed her fate, and she prevailed. Zuko plays an important role in Katara’s story without dominating it. They perfectly represent mutuality. They add to each other’s stories. Their narratives become stronger when they’re together, without one diminishing or sidelining the other.

So, from that standpoint, that’s why I always see the attraction between Zuko and Katara and why I see it lacking between Aang and Katara. Zuko and Katara’s story doesn’t need some cheap little throwaway moments to shine. It’s integral to both characters’ stories. We are shown not told of the way these characters feel about each other. Given everything we know about Katara, her goals, her values, her past loves…absolutely everything points to Zuko being the true subject of her feelings.

Because let’s be honest. The ending I just described is so much more powerful and so much more Katara than seeing her being relegated back to a doe-eyed love interest for Aang to kiss. It hardly even made sense—Katara played no role at all at the culmination of Aang’s arc. She was relegated back to a love interest, rather than the powerful figure we saw fight alongside Zuko.

[yandere-sins]

Cupcake

Okay I will admit I've been soft-yandere yearning for a while now, but it's my birthday and I deserved them!! There’s nothing better than some self-indulgent fanfiction (;

Fandom: Call of Duty Characters: Yandere!Ghost x Reader Warnings: Yandere, Mentions of Punishments/Kidnapping, Forced Relationship, Emotional Distress

You didn't react to the sound of boots on concrete floor or the lock of the door clicking, hinges squeaking as someone entered the room.

Giving him attention was pointless.

You knew too little about him to get under his skin with words alone. Every bicker seemed to bounce off his broad chest with so much strength, it hit you right back in your face. You could never keep your arguments from sounding like childish complaints, and he chuckled at anything as direct as "I hate you!"

Instead, this man—"Ghost" you reckoned he called himself—seemed to bask in every minute of your putrid hatred. You could always assume the wisp of a smile beneath his mask, his eyes searching for yours no matter how much you glared at him. He possessed no inhibitions whatsoever, pushing, pulling, throwing you wherever he wanted, when he wanted, and not always gently mind you.

Yet, he pulled off his gloves before touching you, wiping the tears from your eyes and cheeks while he told you to stop crying now. That everything was okay and you shouldn't ruin your pretty face. He squeezed into the bed with you—the mattress too small for him alone, a coffin for both of you—shielding your body with his from the door so neither friend nor foe would see you first if they came inside.

Ghost made sure to top off your food with the ingredients you liked from his own plate when you were visibly upset. And on the nights when you were unconsolable, he pulled you on top of his chest despite the struggles, resting your head above his heart while he played with your hair or held your hand, intertwining your fingers.

It was hard to say what was going on in that man's head. His eyes spoke of wonders you couldn't see, but his punishments were so severe, so unforgiving as if you had personally harmed him in another life. You could be glad that you could still count ten fingers on your hands and ten toes on your feet, seeing how his mood shifted unpredictably at any moment you two were together.

So, it was best not to acknowledge him.

Even when everything inside you screamed profanities at this bastard, you tempered yourself with deep breaths. A deep inhale through the nose, and a long exhale through the mouth. Deep in, long out. Deep in, and a long breath out...

Zing.

The unique sound of a zippo reached your ear despite your meditation having been able to fade out his presence behind you. This sound was unexpected, new. Ghost and new impressions combined as well as fire and gasoline, so this was scary. You didn't know if he picked up a smoking habit or would burn you just from the sound alone.

You couldn't help the rather violent reaction to the fear that snapped your muscles tight. Jumping into action, you threw the blanket you had wrapped around yourself away, sliding into the farthest corner away from him. Your eyes widened as you took in the view in front of you, time coming to a brief halt as you mustered the absolute unit of a man in front of you holding a... cupcake.

Blue wrapping, yellow icing, and a flickering candle on top.

Ghost snapped the zippo shut after he had waited out your reaction, his shoulders relaxing after he concluded you wouldn't do something stupid. You had just been surprised. He let the silver square sink into his right pocket while the small flame illuminated his mask in a warm yet even more spooky way than it always was.

"Happy Birthday," he said, tearing you out of your state of shock. Your gaze jumped from the mismatched-colored cupcake to his eyes that rested on you, full of that disgusting, heart-wrenching adoration he harbored for you. Things were calm, too calm. Ghost was too relaxed, only holding the cupcake and not a weapon or anything remotely dangerous in his other hand. You couldn't trust the peace. Couldn't rely on his words or the actions you were seeing.

"Wait, what?" it suddenly hit you, your eyes widening. "Is it... Is it really my birthday?"

Prying your eyes off your captor, you looked to your right, to the small table across from the bed where Ghost had hung up a calendar for you. He'd been crossing off days diligently for you since you couldn't be bothered to keep up with the task on some days, Ghost knowing that time seemed to pass you by in weird intervals without a window in your room. And he was right. Damn.

Taking another step toward you, you didn't cower away, letting your guard down as you breathed out heavily. That meant you had vanished from the face of the earth for months now. No one would come looking for you anymore; the hope of your survival and return would have been smashed. What a depressing thought on your birthday, your family and friends surely heartbroken about your absence, just like you were.

The bed creaked as Ghost sat down, his weight shifting the mattress in a way that made you aware of his closeness. You collected your legs, keeping them away from him to not give him any chance of quickly grabbing you. But when Ghost held out his hand, it was filled by the cupcake stretched towards you, and he handed it over without another word.

Your eyes flicked back and forth between his and the pastry, but hesitantly, you picked it up, feeling the squishiness of it, a sweet smell drafting into your nose. The warmth of the ficker licked at your skin as you held the cupcake in front of you. So small yet so thoughtful. You thought a whole lot about this psycho, but to think he'd remember your birthday when not even you did? You couldn't even remember when you told him the date, much less expected him to prepare something for you.

Not like there was anyone else who'd care about it now.

Immediately, tears shot into your eyes as you realized you were truly alone. No one would come to save you, and nothing would change unless you could win against your captor. Even when he was with you, you were still alone. And even when you blew out the candle, wishing for these things to change, you knew the wish was wasted.

Sniffling, you bit into the cupcake, frosting getting stuck on your nose and lips, but you didn't care. Sugary sweet and buttery, the taste of homemade cupcakes like your mother would have made them coated your tongue and teeth, remaining there even when you swallowed, bitterness clogging your throat while the delicious treat produced enough serotonin to jump in joy.

You managed to devour half of it before the tears and stuffy nose caught up with you. Even your free hand couldn't wipe away all these emotions overrunning you. Fear, pain, hopelessness. The feeling of being stuck here and so, so alone. It needed two more hands, big, calloused, and warm, to gently hold your face between them, wiping relentlessly while hushing you softly.

"It's alright, darling," Ghost murmured, his voice invading your brain that couldn't detect all these phantom pains you were feeling but soothed them regardless. "I'm here. Everything will be okay, sweetheart."

It certainly wasn't what you wanted to hear, but it did the trick, keeping you from the panic attack that slowly built inside you. Wiping your nose with your sleeve, you took another bite, sniffling and with tears falling relentlessly still. But Ghost's hands never disappeared. Instead, his thumb began to wander, brushing off crumbs as you devoured the rest of your treat, leaving nothing of this kind gesture for him as you were unwilling to share what little happiness you had been given.

Crumpling up the paper around the blown-out candle, you threw the trash away, finally having both hands free to wipe your own face and get a grip on yourself, your vulnerable side having come out shamefully. But even when you pushed away his hands, Ghost's presence right next to you didn't vanish, his body now much closer than before.

"Happy Birthday," he said again, gripping your shoulders. You huffed lightly, feeling exhausted after your cry, but before you could react, the sudden feeling of lips against yours threw you off.

You hadn't even noticed him pulling up his mask to reveal his mouth, lips more greedy and desperate than ever finding yours. Teeth and tongue played and nibbled, not so gently asking for entrance, and you... gave up. You had no strength to resist. Play a game you were bound to lose anyway, Ghost always cheating. And immediately, feeling your surrender, his hands slid back to your face, cupping your cheeks so he could deepen the kiss.

It didn't help. Didn't soothe the aches in your heart and didn't make the tears stop, but the intrusion of his tongue and the sweet taste now coating it distracted your thoughts. Ghost seemed to try to tell you that no, you weren't alone. You'd never be. He'd always be with you like he swore up and down. He'd protect you, take care of you, and love you.

Kidnapping, locking you away, and forcing you to do what he wanted didn't exactly scream protection, care, and love to you. But an annoying, nagging voice started to speak up in the back of your mind. He wasn't wrong. As long as you had to endure this horrific living arrangement, he'd be with you. He didn't leave you alone, didn't forget your birthday. You doubted even that he spent a single moment of downtime without the thought of you on his mind, considering how obsessed he was.

It would never be enough to satisfy you, though.

There was no way he could ever mean enough to you to make you love him. You'd never forgive him, never submit to him fully, body and soul. But at least on that day, the day that grieved you so—a joyous occasion turned bittersweet by your suffering—you weren't alone. He was there with you. He cared. Did he care enough?

"You're not going to sing for me?" you asked him, half-joking, half-challenging.

Ghost mustered you for a long moment, then you heard him huff, amused. He shook his head before pulling you towards him. You allowed it, no strength left to struggle. "Only because it's your birthday," he reminded you, and you caught the corners of your mouth turning upwards before you reminded yourself not to be amused by his banter.

His heartbeat was calm and gentle, nothing like the things you knew he could do to you. Ghost turned you both over until he could climb into bed with you, laying you down on your side, facing him and not spooning you like usual. It was a tight squeeze, but with his arms around you, face nuzzled into his chest, it was warm and comforting. Safe—for now.

Happy Birthday to you.

Happy Birthday to you.

You almost didn't want to believe him when he began to sing, keeping his voice low. Ghost never wanted to rourse the suspicion of anyone else that possibly lived next door to you. His gruff voice didn't really fit the upbeat song, even with his accent tingling on every word. This time, you couldn't help but grin at the absurdity of the situation, but you listened, regardless, while being held in his arms as if you were meant to be there.

Happy Birthday dear darling.

Wearily, you closed your eyes, listening to his heartbeat mixing with his voice. The man you hated the most was holding you and singing to you as if it was the most normal thing in the world. As if it was meant to be this way all along, almost making you forget the pain and suffering he had caused you in the past. But when he held you like a rare treasure, fulfilled your wishes, and went out of his way to care for you, you almost believed his version of love to be true. You almost started to believe the many times he said he was doing all of this for one reason only: "I love you."

Maybe he did.

Happy Birthday to you.