#added a bit of colours too- i am not good with words as thank yous. but i hope the sentiment comes across in the art for your request

[buckys-little-belle]

Hi!! I love your story’s and am always looking for little and daddy Bucky story’s!! I was wondering if you could do insecure reader who’s bigger. She has bigger thighs a bigger tummy and face. Could you do reader is scared to sit on buckys lap or for him to pick her up and carry her around the house. She’s too scared she’s heavy and will crush him and his legs. or that he will drop her because she’s too big. She also never cuddles and sleeps with him in his room always sleeping in her room after he puts her to bed because she’s scared about her breathing or how she sleeps.

Bucky gets her to tell him why and then comfort. Just fluff fluff fluff. If your not comfortable writing this I totally understand!!! If you do could you ad paci use? Thank you!!! Sorry for the rambling…

Strongest Man Alive

Bucky Barnes x Plus Sized!Little!Reader (She/Her Pronouns Used)

Notes - This is not my best work, and has been in my drafts for MONTHS, it's something cute, and a little angsty at the beginning, but it does get super fluffy at the end. It's a little bit different than my usual writting style, so I apologize for that, but I do hope you like it and if not I'm so sorry! I hope I did this ask justice, and I hope everyone is having a good week!!! <3

Warnings - Talks of reader being self conscious for being 'bigger', kept very vague as she uses the words "heavy" and "squishy" to describe her body type instead of more concrete descriptions, the use of a pacifier is very brief as it's something I'm not used to writing, though I would be willing to continue, mentions of reader eating food "snacks" and "sandwich" though never specified, FLUFF at the end, but there is a moment of angst, I DON'T KNOW IF THIS IS A COHEARANT STORY, it's from the drafts and I gave it a once over and I think it's 'good enough' so I apologize if it's terrible <3

SFW - Please keep all interactions with this post, and this blog, SFW.

. ☾ . ☆ . ☽ . ☆ . ☾ . ☆ . ☽ . ☆ . ☾ . ☆ . ☽ .

Y/n often spent their time at the Avengers tower sitting, standing, lingering around Bucky Barnes. It wasn't on purpose, the man just seemed to be the other half of some magnet imbedded deep in Y/n's heart. He just had some ability to pull her towards him.

Maybe it was the way he cut her sandwiches into perfect triangles, or the way his hand always found hers when she got scared. Maybe it was the way he seemed to be reserved around anyone but her that made her feel so connected to him.

He never sulked but always seemed to walk around with a frown stuck on his face, only ever changing it to a smile when she walked by his office or stopped by his room.

As much as Y/n felt like she was pulled to him, Bucky felt it multiplied by 100. His hands always aching to hold hers, his chest always feeling heavy when he began to think about her needing something and him not being around to help her.

The whole tower knew about Y/n's regression. Wanda and Peter often joined in, hanging out in little space and colouring in books Tony had provided, watching whatever new animated movie had just come out and sleeping over in makeshift tents in the living room.

Often other Avengers would help supervise activities, Steve loved playing action fighters in the common areas, Nat loved cuddle puddle on the couch, and Thor was always ready for a park day. Bucky on the other hand liked to stay in the shadows, buying stickers for the group of littles, making them lunch and dropping it off.

Bucky only stuck around if Y/n asked him to hang out with her. "Bucky can you hold my hand?" She had asked him when at the park, he of course grabbed her hand and helped her up the jungle gym.

"Bucky can you open this please?" She had whispered during a movie, her baggie full of snacks too difficult to manage on her own. He opened the baggie and held it in his own grasp, handing her a piece of candy anytime she had finished the previous one.

"Bucky will you colour with me?" She had yelled her ask one day when he was passing by the kitchen, Y/n sat at the island with markers scattered across the marble. He silently sat down and diligently coloured the page she had given him, helping her chase markers that had fallen.

He knew she was comfortable asking for what she wanted, and he knew she wasn't afraid of him ... so, it made his chest tighten every time she asked him to grab something from the top shelf instead of asking to be lifted like Wanda and Peter often asked.

He also felt off every time a little would come running out of their room after a nightmare, rushing into someone's room for a cuddle, yet Y/n's door never opened and neither did his.

Bucky was sure it was his fault she didn't seek him out for cuddles, he thought he had done something wrong when she never asked for a hug. Was it his arm? Was she scared he would turn on her? He couldn't figure it out.

That is until he realised she never asked anyone for a cuddle, or a hug. Nat, Wanda, and Peter would be all comfy on the couch and Y/n would be sat on the chair, a small frown on her face yet she never tried to find a spot next to her friends. And when she scraped her knee on the playground she declined Thor's offer of a "healing" hug.

"Y/n?" His voice was quiet but direct as he called out into the playroom, Y/n sat on the softly coloured rug, her stuffed animals scattered about.

"Hi Bucky!" She smiled, her pacifier tumbling out of her mouth and onto the ground.

"Hi." He sat down across from her, quickly pocketing the fallen pacifier before sought out the, now, dirty thing. "What are you playing?" His hands brushed a stuffed teddy, Y/n tilting her head in confusion as she looked around her.

"'m just dressen 'm up." She smiled at him, grabbing a stuffed unicorn and brushing it's fur back into place, shuffling closer to Bucky as she gathered a few other stuffed animals.

The moment her knees hit his she shifted back, so Bucky shifted his towards her again. Like clockwork she moved and left a small gap between them. "Y/n?"

"Mhm." She looked back at him, her smile one he could easily read through.

"Am I scary?" He asked calmly, not once loosing eye contact as she shook her head 'no'. "Do I smell?" He asked, this time with a laugh.

"No!" She giggled.

"Then why do you run every time I touch you." Instead of answering she bowed her head, hands running over the stuffed animal anxiously. "Why don't you hug Wanda or Peter?" He was worried that all the questions would make her want to run, but as she huffed and leaned into his space slightly he continued. "I know Thor was pretty sad when you declined his hug the other day." That one wasn't a lie, the man had gone on a rant about how he thought he had done something wrong, how he was sure Y/n hated him.

"I jus', I don' want them t' be mad." She admitted, huffing at the end of her sentence. "'m jus', 'm heavy, an' squishy. Wanda and Pete aren't heavy an' squishy." She admitted, eyes locked on the wall, the stuffed unicorn held a little closer to her body.

"What do you mean Baby?" Bucky asked, confused as to what she was alluding to.

"It's harder t' pick me up." She finally looked back at him, tears beginning to gather along her waterline. "And cuddling wif me wouldn' be th' same." She shrugged, trying to play it off like she wasn't bothered by her own words.

The tightness in Bucky's chest didn't ease up with his answer, his worry only growing. He had hoped it was an easy thing to fix, yet knowing Y/n didn't hug her friends, or him, because she felt too big made him hurt. "Baby," He began, not giving Y/n a second to doubt him, he picked her up and sat her in his lap. "you aren't 'too heavy' to pick up." He hated how quickly she curled into his chest, how clear it was that she was missing human connection. "I'm the strongest man alive, and you saying that you're too heavy is going to bruise my ego a bit, Baby." They both laughed, a few of Y/n's tears hitting the fabric of Bucky's shirt.

"I thought Steve was th' strongest man alive?"

"I let him win when we arm wrestle." Bucky admitted, causing Y/n to break out into a fit of giggles.

"'m gonna tell him!" She stood up, bolting for the door.

"Oh no you don't!" Bucky ran after her, lifting her off her feet in the middle of the hallway, Y/n pausing with a gasp, bracing for the two of them to fall, yet laughing along with Bucky as jostled her around, threatening to take her new colouring page off the fridge if she told anyone his secret.

After a pinky promise and some juice Y/n began to trust Bucky a little bit more. She let him pick her up at the playground, and gave him a hug before bed every night. She still worried her hugs were 'bad', that maybe no one would want to hug her because she wasn't 'little' but Bucky never once complained, instead asking for hugs in the morning too.

It took her a while to truly trust that Bucky wasn't lying when he said his back didn't hurt after picking her up, but eventually she became comfortable enough to run and jump into his arms, something she had always dreamed of doing.

It wasn't until a month later that Bucky woke up at 4 am to the sound of Y/n's hurried footsteps rushing to his door. Light creeping in from the opened door she didn't close as she ran to his bed. The sound of soft cries and whispers of "Nightmare" filling the usually quiet space.

Instead of letting her think too much about how she 'should' be cuddling, Bucky just scooped her up and tucked her into his bed, letting her know he'd protect her, and her stuffed animal. He liked having her in his room, it made him feel at ease knowing she was close.

After a few months of staying in Bucky's room, Y/n began to get out of her shell a bit more, hugging Wanda and Peter, and eventually accepting Thor's 'healing' hugs. She finally joined in during the weekly cuddle puddle, laughing along side Nat and her friends as they all got cozy on the couch. And for the first time ever she let someone else, the second strongest man alive, Steve Rogers pick her up. A pride filled movement the man would never forget.

Even though it took her a little longer than everyone else to be comfortable hugging and snuggling, she was happy to finally be apart of the group in ways she wasn't before. Bucky, the man who still often stayed in the shadows, helping from a distance, couldn't help but feel a little lighter every time he saw his girl get over her worries, knowing if anything got to be 'too much' she'd come running to him.

[darklydeliciousdesires]

A Storm of Stars - Chapter Nine.

Good morning, my lovely audience! A fresh new chapter has arrived for you all to enjoy. Huge thanks to my regular and new commentors alike!

Summary: The Targaryen twin stars. Two sides of the same coin. Aemond and Aemella Targaryen, second children of King Viserys I and his queen, Alicent Hightower, had spent their entire lives almost as one, the lines blurring where one twin ended and the other began. What started as an inseparable sibling bond eventually bloomed into a deep, limitless love.

A day would come, though, when their love story - famed for generations to come - would be tested by the one who sought to tear them apart. When the storm of stars descended, nobody who had wronged them would come away unscathed. 

Words - 3,262

Tag list - In the comments. Please DM to be added.

Warnings - 18+ content throughout. Incest, mentions of child loss through miscarriage. This chapter contains violence against a woman, plus the blended canon scene of the battle of Rook's Rest. Minors DNI.

Previous Chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight

To some, one forest was the same as any other, identical in its thick of trees and low-lying clusters of shrubs. To a person with an educated eye within the field of botany, though, the subtle differences were clear. 

All along the narrow road they took, Aemella was able to view the kinds of plants she had only seen sketches of before within the pages of her education books, remembering back to many a lesson with Gileda where she had first learned of them. The Cerseirellus flower, for example, was native to the Westerlands, the shortened name of Cersei a popular choice for baby girls, as she had learned.  

Brilliant red petals accentuated the beauty of the bloom, growing hardily beneath the thick canopy of trees, not to be deterred by the presence of the mighty evergreens reaching tall towards the sun. Among them, bluebells filled the forest floor, a sea of purple-blue and red decorating the thick carpet of lush green.  

“Princess, look aside here,” Veron spoke, pointing to his right. “Midnight Foxgloves. They were my mother’s favourite flower.” 

Those could be found anywhere, and much like the former Lady Greyjoy, they were Aemella’s favourite, too. They were also the ones her husband would arrange to be brought to her from where they grew abundantly in the gardens, having a servant fill a vase to place upon her dressing table every few days.  

Her smile was of sad longing. “Aemond would always have those sent to our quarters.”  

Immediately, Veron felt his insides tighten, wincing a little. “I am sorry, princess. I did not realise, and now I have caused you upset with no intention to do so.” 

“No, no,” she insisted, reaching to grasp his forearm softly. “You were not to know, my friend.” By that point, Veron Greyjoy truly was her friend, her only confidant in her new life, a man whom only knowing for twelve days she knew could be trusted implicitly. His kind of decency and good nature was nigh on impossible to be masqueraded.  

He was also the only one who took the slightest bit of interest in her, too. Had you asked Dalton Greyjoy his soon-to-be wife’s favourite colour, food or flower, he would not have had the faintest idea. Veron, however, would have instantly been able to answer blue, venison with roasted vegetables, and now, Midnight Foxgloves. 

With his usual concerned sympathy tracing his handsome face, Veron nodded, his smile thin. “You must miss him awfully.” 

Gods, awfully simply did not lend to the pain inside, forced into a mere shadowed existence without her darling love. Reaching into her dress pocket, she removed her beeswax balm, noting she was running low as she dotted a small amount to her lips.  

“I do. I confess to be lost without him.” Lifting her chin, she took a deep, fortifying breath. “I must be strong, though, in all which I now face.”  

Such tenacity was very in keeping with her Targaryen blood, he thought. “Your strength is to be admired, princess. I am unsure I could remain so determined, should I be in your situation.” 

If only he could see her on the inside, where the fibres of her soul rapidly unknitted themselves one by one in Aemond’s absence from her life. “You are kind, Veron. I do not know how well I would have fared, should you not have been as lovely to me as you have been.”  

His eyes flitted ahead, towards the front of the large group they rode roughly a third back within, viewing his brother with slightly narrowed eyes. “Not all Greyjoy’s are monsters.”  

“Tell me,” she asked softly, “has he always behaved so cruelly?” 

The young man winced slightly, pausing in his reply. “Yes. He was my chief tormentor throughout our childhood, teasing me mercilessly for my lack of height, my slight build, my apparent unease upon the ocean. I suffered greatly from seasickness, which naturally does not go hand in hand with the ethos of my house. Chasers of the wave, worshipers of the Drowned God; such lends no place for a short, gawky, odd-looking boy emptying the contents of his stomach over the side of a galleon.” 

His words were delivered with a shade of bashfulness, his cheeks colouring a little to have admitted his weakness to one as strong as a dragon riding princess. He had no clue that his candour only enamoured him to her more. Veron was far from such now, too, grown into a well-built, fine looking young man. The gawky boy was long behind him, yet his elder brother still sought to treat him as if he were. 

“My husband was often the subject of his elder brother’s cruelty, too. Tis’ no shame, Veron. The elder sibling, they lamentably seek to remind the younger of their perceived place, should they favour such castigation. Aegon continues to partake of his cruelty to this day, no matter how much it serves against his best interests.”  

Her elder brother had cut off his nose to spite his face, for Aemella knew, deep in her heart, that whatever Aemond was being subjected to, he would find a way out of it if he at all could. She’d felt it over the last few days, a renewed sense of hope and purpose within him, her twin not quite as dejected as he had been at the beginning of their separation.  

In turn, a staunch refusal to resign herself to her fate was all that she had, no matter how hopeless it seemed at times. It might still be, she had to remember, but how she prayed that it wouldn’t be.  

They rode the entire day, Dalton keen to move as far north as possible until darkness descended upon them, finding an inn capable of housing them all for the night. Most of the ship’s crew took the innkeeper's barn, others lucky enough to be given a room.  

Aemella, as she soon found, would have fared better in the barn.  

“Your moonsblood surely has finished now, Aemella?” Dalton spoke after she had reluctantly slipped into the bed they were to share, Dalton turning to his side to let a hand smooth over her curves.  

Bile instantly rose in her throat. Swallowing hard, she tensed, recoiling from his touch. “I do not feel it appropriate for us to become acquainted in such a way prior to our betrothal. It is not proper, Dalton.” 

He snorted, placing his hand back upon her breast through her nightdress, squeezing. “Do not bleat such rubbish, girl,” he chided, moving closer to her, lips kissing her shoulder. “I bet your brother was sticking his cock in you for moons upon moons prior to your wedding.”  

“Stop it,” she gritted, her body stiffening further. “You will not speak of him in such a way.” 

Gripping her jaw, he turned her head to face him. “Why? Tis’ the truth, is it not? Tell me, Aemella. Tis’ quite the perverse thing, letting your own twin pound you into the bed night after night. By that token, you should be filthy as a whore.” Moving atop her, he leaned to her breast, biting her nipple, grinding his hardened manhood against her hip. “Tell me what else you enjoy, and I shall please you.” 

Feeling panicked, she pushed against him, Dalton taking her hands in his, closing a grip around her wrists. “I tire of your frigid disposition. You are almost my wife, and if I want to fuck you, I will fucking fuck you, so hard that you will forget all about Aemond fucking Targaryen.” 

She needed a plan, and rapidly. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw something glint, the hilt of his dagger lying unsheathed upon the bedside table. “No, no, Dalton,” she began, setting her voice to a silky purr. “You misunderstand me. I push against you not to fend you off, but to show you what I enjoy.” 

The way she looked at him from beneath her lashes had his grip slackening in an instant, groaning as she began to trail her nails over his wide, hairy chest. “Turn onto your back. Let me show you how a princess rides a cock.” 

He flipped faster than a dolphin upon a wave, Aemella moving astride him. His body felt so different to Aemond’s. Thick and bulky, overly hairy, and gods, he did not wash nearly as often as he should have. She had to seduce him, though, send him mindless, so he wouldn’t see it coming.  

“There, my fierce commander of the seas,” she whispered, leaning to place a kiss upon his throat. “You lie back and enjoy yourself.” 

A filthy chuckle rumbled his throat, making himself comfortable. “I knew you could not resist me forever, my little silver haired nymph. You will be gasping and crying when I bounce you on my cock, fill you with my seed, breed some fine, Iron Born sons into your belly.”  

She almost wretched against his neck, gritting her teeth, steeling herself. “Shhhh.” she cooed, placing a finger to his lips, having him suck it. Gods, his breath could have ripped the paint from a canvas. Pressing her lips to his neck, she peppered kisses downwards slowly, her fingers running in trails over his chest, circling his nipples until they peaked stiffly.  

It made her feel sick to do it, but she lowered herself against his cock, gyrating against the solid mass alluringly, watching his head tip back as he groaned gravelly. 

“Yes, my lord,” she whispered, “I shall be on your cock soon, soaking it with my pretty little cunt.”  

Her words had him in a daze, coupled with the rhythmic roll of her hips against him, Dalton feeling like he was adrift from himself entirely. No wonder Aemond One Eye had been reluctant to give her up. If she could bewitch a man like this without him even being inside her...  

The trail of kisses moved lower, Aemella keeping a sharp eye upon him, watching his own eyes roll into the back of his head, lids fluttering shut, her hand beginning to snake down while her other reached for the dagger. Gripping the hilt, she brought it to his throat just as his eyes opened again, the blade catching him, Dalton quick enough to grasp her wrist. 

Oh, no.  

“You duplicitous bitch!” he roared, gripping her throat, overpowering her swiftly as he slammed her other hand off the side of the bed, forcing her release of the weapon that has almost been plunged into his neck. “You dare attack me, you little fucking cunt of a whore?”  

Moving atop her, both hands wrapped around her neck, beginning to throttle her, her fear surging like wildfire. No, no! Her panic pulsed so strongly that back in Kings Landing, her true husband awoke, sitting bolt upright in their bed, feeling her fear rip through him like a razor’s edge.  

There was nothing he could do to save her, though, Aemella realising her only salvation was herself, Dalton beginning to lay hard punches into her face. Bringing her leg up to kick him in the balls, her nemesis folded, grasping his aching crotch. With all her might, she gripped the wrist holding her throat, wrenching it away. He surged forward again, but before he could grip at her delicate neck, her teeth locked onto his cheek in a savage bite. 

He roared in agony, Aemella tasting copper against her tongue as she punched him in the stomach, pushing and punching him in her desperate attempt to escape. Releasing her teeth, she spat a mouthful of sanguine and spit at him, ripping her nails down his face before tearing a path from the bed, the door in her sights. 

He threw himself towards her, grasping her hair and arm, running her against the opposite wall. “If you think the beatings I have given thus far were restrained, then sweetheart, you know nothing of pain.” He smashed her face against the cold stone of the wall, the skin over her cheekbone splitting, screaming for help as she struggled against him. 

Throwing her down to the floor, he kicked her in the ribs, Aemella curling into a ball, hugging her knees to her chest to protect herself. More so, it was to protect the tiny life growing inside of her, Dalton kicking her legs, her back, stomping upon her thighs until the door suddenly burst open, the innkeeper running in, shortly followed by his brother. 

“Sir! Unhand the lady this moment!” 

“She’s my wife!” he roared, kicking her helpless form once again. “I do with her as I please, and I please to beat the bitch!” 

“You will not cause this commotion within my walls; make no mistake I shall not have it!” While the innkeeper pushed at him, Veron managed to pull Aemella off the floor, lifting the sack carrying her belongings too.  

“This is a travesty, brother. You may punish me all you wish for it come to morning, but on this night, I will not allow you to hurt her further.” Turning, he carried her from the room, the princess shaking in his arms. The look she gave to Dalton over his brother’s shoulder was one of cold, hard defiance, though. “Tis’ over, princess. I will not allow you to come to this harm.”  

In a world where she could barely predict the machinations of his sibling, she could at least count on the security of Veron’s devotion to her safety. His friendship would never be forgotten, not even after she had freed herself from this predicament. For she swore right then as she cried, trembling and bleeding, that free herself from it she would.  

Aemella Targaryen was nobody's victim.  

While she was taken to Veron’s room to be cared for, Aemond could barely rest for feeling pain and horror flooding her, pacing before his bed, having to settle himself with a few large measures of rum before he could attain sleep. He truly needed to be well-rested too, a raven arriving to the Red Keep earlier that day to inform the king of the van’s imminent arrival upon Rook’s Rest, Aemond to fly up there aboard Vhagar come the following morning.  

He saw nobody and was handed no escort to Vhagar, but took one in the form of a young squire to ferry the horse he rode back once more, approaching his ancient beast as she dozed upon her preferred mossy ground.  

Reaching for her, his hand stroked her face, her huge eyes opening as she made warm noises of greeting in her throat. “Māzigon va, uēpa riñnykeā. Naejot īlva ērinnon.”  

Indeed, he and his precious old lady would surely fly to victory, for there was not a dragon in the realm capable of defeating them. Whatever the fight happened to be. He arrived ahead of time, in the wilds of bracken growing within a vast clearing to the south of Rook’s Rest, lying in wait. That was, until soaring above, a golden dragon caught his eye. 

Aegon? 

For the love of the gods. “Mittys!” he cursed, telling Vhagar to wait when she lifted her head. Crashing down again, she obeyed, until the moment her rider gave his word for her to take to the air and join the fight. 

Once above the battlefield, she surged forward, Aemond seeing his opportunity clearly, Sunfyre and Meleys locked in attack. Sneering, he witnessed the king uneasy in the saddle, wondering how many goblets of wine it had taken for his balls to grow enough in order to participate in the battle.  

Their conflict offered him the opportunity he’d hoped to gain, joining the war effort with such carefree acceptance of his brother’s decree. He could burn the princess from the sky and take with her the man who had inflicted every single ounce of his suffering. Only a fool with no pride, no spine and no conviction would ever pass up such a chance. 

The king would be collateral. Just as he’d viewed Aemella in his disgusting ploy to harm the brother whom he so envied. If there was ever a chance to reverse the hand of fate, it danced before Aemond right at that moment. He closed his eye momentarily, and there he saw her face. His course, it was decided.  

“Dracarys!” 

Vhagar breathed forth a decimating inferno, both dragons before her hit in the gargantuan blaze, Sunfyre the first to tailspin into descent, his wings alight. Looking below, he saw the ground break into flame, a sneer curling his lip. Triumph ignited his heart, the path he had been set upon now forked off, finally leading him back to his love. 

“I warned you not to make an enemy of me, brother.”  

But what had happened to the Red Queen and her rider? Turning his head, he spotted them upon the skyline, the crimson dragon surging towards him, miraculously gone unscathed. Not for long. The dragons flew head-to-head, this time, Vhagar reaching to grasp onto Meleys, her talons closing around the smaller dragon in an iron-forged grip, blasting her with a ball of fire.  

They spun through the air, Rhaenys feeling the heat of the flames scalding her skin, fighting to pull her dragon free. For the queen who never was, though, it was her final stand aboard her beloved old girl, Meleys trying in vain to fight back with her own blaze.  

Suddenly, the grip upon her beast broke contact, Vhagar swirling to crash land upon the ground before taking off again, Rhaenys flying higher once more, assuming the gods to be on her side as they ascended. She flew over the battlefield, coming up over the crest of Rooks Rest, when like a harbinger of doom, Vhagar appeared, her jaws closing around her beloved Meleys’s neck.  

The sickening crunch of shattered vertebrae filled her ears, her dragon squealing in agony, the light fading from her beautiful eyes as rapidly, they began falling.  

All that flitted through Rhaenys’s mind in her last moments was a silent prayer to the gods of gratitude, that at least she and her treasured Meleys would be received together, crashing to the ground and exploding into wildfire. 

Aemond looked down from the sky with quiet triumph, his mission accomplished, flying then to the first dragon-erupted fire, landing Vhagar and proceeding on foot. All around, the spoils of war littered the ground, men charred, torn apart, horses lying lifeless as smaller fires dotted the landscape like beacons.  

Moving through the thick of the trees, he approached the smouldering mass of what was left of Sunfyre and his brother, sword drawn. When he took in the state of the severely burned dragon, his gravely injured brother lying beside the head of the great, golden beast, he moved to sheathe his sword once more. The job, it seemed, was done. 

“Aemond!” 

Turning, he was approached by Ser Criston, Aemond looking back upon the flaming heap, crouching to where Aegon’s dagger lay upon the floor.  

“Where is his grace?” the knight questioned. Picking up the dagger, he pointed it ahead, his face passive. Not one drop of emotion flickered through him. While Aemond stood, Criston approached, dropping to his knees in despair to witness the stare of his liege, wondering truly if the king was alive at all.  

“Where are you going?” he asked, turning to see Aemond pause in his path away from the scene. 

Turning, he tucked the dagger into his baldric, giving the answer Criston likely knew was coming. “To find my wife.”  

A/N - Now, did you enjoy what you just read? Please remember, this is not Instagram. Clicking that heart does little, but a comment? Your author will be rewarded. A comment and reblog? Your author is throwing roses at your feet! It takes less time to do this than it did for you to read the chapter, too. Please, be kind and help support the fandom! :) 

Next Chapter

[andielle]

prologue|chpt. 1|chpt. 2|chpt. 3|chpt. 4|masterlist

You and Bucky have shared this relationship for almost a year now. He sleeps with you to relieve stress, you sleep with him to free you from your slight crush on him. But what happens when Bucky breaks the rules of your relationship, and yearns for more?

MODERN! Office AU! Bucky x Reader

prologue | 1.0k words | warnings: implications of sex

You're slowly awakened by the beams of sunlight peaking through your binds. Still groggy, you opened your eyes to an empty bed. You still felt the warmth radiating from your side, while the memories of the night before flooded your brain. Kisses, warmth, skin on skin, metal on skin, you remembered how you and Bucky turned into mere creatures of flesh, indulging in each other. He used you, but that didn't matter because you used him too.

It all felt like a dream, but does it matter? Dream or not, you'd still wake up with an empty bed either way. You lay on your side for a bit, feeling your hand on the bedsheets where Bucky laid on. He must've left a few minutes ago, because his warmth and sultry scent still lingered heavily on your sheets — You were used to this even though you wish you weren't.

Couldn't he at least wake me up for work before leaving? You thought to yourself, finally sitting up to give yourself a good stretch before scrambling to get ready for work.

—

God, you already hate this day. Your eyelashes feel like there are weights attached to them, you're constantly having your back slumped, and it's only... You look at the clock... 8:43 am?! You sat drooped over your chair from the revelation, your eyes still groggy, and the cheerful sunshine coming from the windows certainly did not help with your predicament.

"Hey— Oh my God... Who did this to you?" a feminine voice calls out to you. You don't exactly see who it is, but from the corner of your vision, you can tell that the crimson coloured head of hair belonged to the one and only — Natasha Romanoff. Your eye twitched.

"Good morning to you too, I guess," you replied quietly, not even bothering to care about how you looked right now, or to look up. "Bad night huh?" Nat questions, but the answer was obvious enough. With a small tap, she places a cup of coffee on your desk.

"Nat..." you quickly took the cup and sipped, sweet and with a bitter aftertaste, you gulped, eyes closed. With a sigh of satisfaction, you thanked Nat; "Thank you so much... You're my saviour, really."

"'Must've been a long night for you — you know, going back to your place with B-" Nat was interrupted with your look of panic. Instead of finishing her sentence, she gave you mercy by smiling. With a click of her heels, she moved from the front of your desk to your side. She kneeled facing you, holding onto your desk for support. "Why do you still sleep with him? I mean— he's a total hunk! But, like, are you still sure about this?" She says in a hushed tone.

Oh Nat, she has always given you a piece of her mind, albeit a bit brutally sometimes, but she's always been there for you ever since your earlier days in the office.

She was like the older sister you've never had. She knew your ins and outs, and you both often shared secrets with each other that otherwise would not be shared with anybody else.

"Relax, I don't mind, you know how complicated it is," you smiled softly at your best friend, appreciating the concern. She raised a well-groomed eyebrow, scanning your face.

"I promise... I could leave anytime," you added. She didn't look persuaded though. Damn it, she could see right through you easily, which was one of the reasons why she knew about you and Bucky in the first place, a tiny falter in your expression gave it away.

"Well, I trust you, but that doesn't mean I won't care, okay?" she says before standing up and giving you a pat on the shoulder. She strutted back to her desk.

"Okay," you said, right before you were out of earshot.

Another sigh left your lips when you realize Nat has also left some blueprints on your desk when she gave you your coffee. Today is going to be a really long day. You read through the papers, reading all the numbers carefully while occasionally sipping your coffee here and there. You looked at the prototypes and added your own edits all the while doing calculations on your computer, everyday work stuff.

You stood up from your desk and walked to the elevator, hoping to talk to Tony about some adjustments you've made. With a ding, you picked your floor and the elevator doors closed up.

But, when the elevator door was about to completely close, a metal hand cut through, and it opened up again.

You were met with a set of blue-grey eyes. "Good morning," Bucky greeted you as he walked in. With your voice stuck in your throat, you managed to cough up an enthusiastic enough good morning! back. He looked significantly less shitty than you did, despite being in the same situation the night before.

He was wearing a plain black tee and jeans— a typical Bucky outfit. He didn't have to wear anything formal, like you did with your short-sleeved button up and slacks, lucky him. Your eyes wandered from his chest to his arms as he walked to stand next to you. Never mind, lucky you. You snapped your head forward before he noticed you staring.

This was a normal routine. Once a week, you both would spend the night together, and the next morning pretend like nothing happened. It was awkward for you still, but to him it's like it's nothing, well, what did you expect? The tension in the air was really evident, and you were itching to touch him again. But you remembered your agreement with him, so you couldn't act on your thoughts.

You tried your best to not turn your head to admire him again, his piercing eyes, his cute stubble, his dark hair, this man was truly the embodi-

Ding! the elevator made a sound that broke your train of thought.

Bucky moves from your side to exit the elevator, not saying a word. You felt disappointment replace your earlier emotions, wishing to be close to him a little bit more. You opened your mouth to say goodbye, "Have a nice da-" the elevator closed on you before you could even finish, leaving you standing there whilst it moved again.

Yeah, today is going to be a really really long day.

[xxladyballadxx]

Date Night

TF: ROTB Mirage X (human) reader

☁️ ✨Fluff✨☁️

A very special day has arrived where you go on a lovely date with your awesome goofy alien robot boyfriend Mirage. Planning to watch the gleaming stars of wonders up in the dark sky is going to be such a wonderful time for you and . Once you threw on your (f/c) mini dress and a bit of makeup, you slipped your flats on and stepped outside your home where Mirage awaits you. His blue energetic eyes widened when he held his head down to look at you. “Wow, (Y/n), you look…” Mirage motioned his eyes upwards and downwards, gazing upon you admiringly, “You look beautiful.” 

Your cheeks swirled into a warm heated red colour, “Thank you, Mirage.” 

Mirage smiled as he transformed into a Porsche 911 car, he flipped open the car door wide for you, “Shall we go, my lady?” 

“Let’s go.” you entered inside the car form of Mirage, seating at the front where the wheel is. Mirage closed the front door afterwards and drove off down the road while you settled down to relax, letting your alien robot do the driving as always. 

The two of you finally arrived at the destination. An edge of the cliff, a great spot to watch the stars. As soon as you exited the car, Mirage transformed back to his robotic form. “Amazing view..” you set your (e/c) eyes on the  stratosphere that is filled with stars sparkling out of it. 

Mirage sat onto the rocky ground, carefully not to sit too close towards the edge of the cliff otherwise he would end up falling down. You climbed on top of him to sit yourself down onto his lap. 

“Oh how I love to watch stars at night..” You spoke in a soft manner, your eyes being shone on by the stars of heavens. It begins to get cold as the beautiful night goes on, Mirage cuddles you with his gigantic robotic hands around you, being extra careful not to crush you to death. 

“A beautiful night, isn’t it?” Mirage set his glowing blue eyes on the dark sky, watching the stars shooting in different directions. Those stars somehow reminded him of his home planet Cybertron. He wishes to take you one day but would be too risky and Optimus would never allow it. 

“Yeah it is, our own heaven of dreams.” your voice dropped in a soft, soothing manner. You leaned your head back to Mirage’s chest while holding his big hand with your small adorable hand. 

 “A happy place where we can just be ourselves.” Mirage added, shining a smile of joy across his face. You carefully climbed up to his charming face to peck a kiss to his silver lips. “I love you so much, Mirage.” you warmed his machine heart with your loving words. You couldn’t tell if he was blushing or not. Robots can hardly blush since they’re alien robots from outer space. “I love you too, my little spark.” Mirage replied, stroking your hair softly with his robotic finger. 

You cuddled his face with your arms planted on it, feeling the heat of warmth floating over you and your whole body is no longer feeling shivery. You swept back down to sit on his lap once again after cuddling his adorable face for a bit. 

A goofy robotic alien and a sweet human girl spend the rest of the evening watching the stars together. Talking, flirting, complimenting each other and making out a drawing from the gorgeous midnight sky, connecting each little sparkle to see what they came up with. 

You wish this beautiful moment with Mirage would never end…

(A/n) - Damn, I never knew I would write this and I am shockingly in love with an alien robot. Mirage is such a goofball and I love that guy sm! :'') I've watched the new Tranformers movie on Friday with a good friend of mine and it turned out to be quite good. Some people may disagree with me on this but it is surprisingly much better then the previous Transformers movies. Just saying. Anyway, this may look shite but I hope you all like it.

UNTIL NEXT TIME ^_^

[ruiimellowww]

Okay HI hello 👋👋

I saw ur art about Sun & Moon through a reblog and I am such a simp for those two omg so here's a rant :33

(Also if you're not comfy with this pls ignore this rant then, and I am so sry if that is the case!! Will stop immediately if you tell me to /srs)

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

CAN I JUST SAY I am sosososososo in love with your desgin for the dca cuz holy shit I have never seen anything hotter. O.O LIKEEE THE HUMANOID VERSION??!?!!?? UGH soooo goooodd 🥵🥵 I love the designs and the- the little EARRINGS as well?!??! Omg sooooo cutee aaaaaa 💞💞

and-and omigosh UR ART IS SO GOOD AS WELL!?!? I straight up just wanna munch it. I am eating ur art fr. In LOVE with ur artstyle it's so yummy 😍

Anywhoooo I also scrolled through your dca tag aND *GASP* ECLIPSE?????? 😍😍AND I?? WANNA??? BE ENVELOPED????? BY HIMM??? (I feel like mans would give THE BEST cuddles on the planet!!!)

HOLLLYYYY SHITTTT thE SIZEEEEEEE

Big tall omigoshhhhhhHHH M- my brain- my heart my- mY EVERYThIng is mELTING! ! ! ! ! Literally his size just does something to me I cannot comprehend why omigosh

(*lays in a puddle on the floor*)

I can imagine sosososo many different scenarios where that height could be used aaaaa >~< <333 ;P

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

Omg if you have any HCs (and *wanna* share, ofc.) about him (Or about Sun & Moon) I'd love to listen to you ramble about them??? <333

So curious about ur HCs & would absolutely love any crumbs about the dca ksskksskkdkdjdks ❤️😂

Uhm uhm first off, thank you so much I can't rlly put into words how sweet this is and I totally don't mind the rambles because me too. And also because its been YEARS since I last used Tumblr or did anything answering Ask is a bit tough for me.. MmMM

Although I don't have many HC at the moment.. I can however give you a little insight I have regarding my Human DCA :]

Moondrop (Moon) and Sundrop

- when I first designed Moon (after the game came out) he had a much wilder look to him, especially the face because I was really into the idea of him being simply insane hence the red.

- later when i got back to his design and adding colours I thought that it would be fun to make it Blue and white themed, which I actually didn't see a lot back then

- he wasn't supposed to look human even as a Humanoid, I liked to think that Sun & Moon simply had a renovated body. They are just as much Animatronics as they had always been, robotic parts and everything but with a bit of twist

- So then onto Sun.. the thing is its sad to say but I never explored much with Sun's design back then as much as I did with Moon, so I can't provide a good reference

- although I had a rough idea of how sun would look like I never quite liked the way I drew him, so he's always somewhat been stuck in this unfinished stage

- Then there was eclipse, who was my absolute FAVORITE at that time, I don't think I loved a character MORE THAN ECLIPSE EVER when I was drawing him out

- yes!! It was very much inspired by the 3D render shown here as the ref, though I did make some changes of my own to the design as well

- I had a lot in my head when I was drawing him, but the one thing that I loved most about this design still to thisq day is rhe face. The way I him to look back then was sort of a mix between my Sun and Moon designs, only leaning more towards Sun in colours and Moon in appearance with the crazed look in his eyes

The height was just a funny little thing I thought of, cuz imagine this giant fkn ahh robot just comes in here and picks you up 💀 god I would piss myself

Cough..

So in regards to the new design, I did kind of get rid of the animatronic feel to him that I had done with the DCA and his old design, all of them now look a whole lot more Human which is what I intended for

Eclipse has a few scars around his body; right forearm, left side of his torso that leads all the way up to his chest. Plus a bit of his face that is burnt which you can't exactly see because of the Black spots

Overall I like my newer designs quite a lot and has also changed a lot, this is probably the most insight you'll get out of me abt my art 😭😭 cuz I don't usually ramble this much otherwise

I might come up with some head canons at a later date, but they'll be fun thats for sure ;)

[madameraccoon]

Falling hard | Part 4

Feyre meets someone interesting in the office and gets to know the gossip queen of the firm.

(Masterlist)

Of course Tamlin couldn't go to the legal assistant himself to deliver a pile of documents he could just as well send digitally through the system. Alis should have never appointed him as second in command.

"Sorry, I'm looking for someone names Suriel," she asked someone upon entering the side of the floor occupied by the firm's legal team.

"Just Suri," said a voice from behind a giant monitor. The guy who she had stopped just pointed to the glass cubicle where the lady had talked. Feyre entered and the lady finally emerged from behind the screen. Black bob, sharp enough to cut a throat, full lips and nice make up.

"Sorry, I didn't know your name. I was just give an email address. I'm Feyre, from the..."

"From the Boston team. Archeron, right?" she asked in a friendly voice before standing up and shaking her hand. "Don't worry. It's Suri Ellis, but at the end of the day Suriel is fine. You're not the first one. You can leave the documents there," she added pointing at a pile on the left side of her gigantic desk.

"I'm sorry that I'm adding to the pile of thing."

"I did ask your boss to send them over digitally, but I don't think he understood. And I was too British to repeat myself," Suri chuckled before tapping something and shifting her entire attention on Feyre. "How are you liking London? Better than the land of the free?"

Feyre smiled apologetically. "Obnoxious name, I know. But, yeah. I'm liking it quite alright. Both the city and the work environment."

"I'm glad. It's not everyday we get this gigantic projects with people coming in from other offices. It's good for the London team to interact with the other branches of the firm and good for the other branches to come in contact with the main offices."

She spoke with a low calm voice that immediately put Feyre at ease. She could have been a therapist with that tone.

"I see what you mean, and I completely agree. I feel like I'm learning so much," Feyre admitted, probably for the first time. She hadn't realised how much she was learning by working with people who had a completely different cultural background.

"That's what I mean. I hope you'll keep up with this attitude. You could go places."

That made her blush a bit. "Well, thank you."

"Don't, really, love. I'm good at reading people."

"Have you read anything else from the Yankee team, then?" she asked just for shits and giggles, but Suri took her seriously.

"A lot, to be honest. Alis is a sweetheart, I understand why she was put in charge, but she can be a little too sweet at times. She needs to keep Blondie in check," she commented.

"You mean Tamlin?"

"Ah, yeah. The beefy guy. I try to avoid him as much as possible."

"Maybe that's why he sent me."

"Could be, not that I care. I very much preferred meeting you than him. And you seem fine. You didn't even ask me where I am really from."

That was just outright rude. She felt ashamed that her team had asked the lady such a question. "I... I'm so sorry."

"Again: don't. But Mr. Spring thought it was relevant to start a conversation on how progressive the firm is for having coloured quotas. I'll let you imagine how pleasant of a chat that was."

Feyre really needed to have a word with Tamlin about that. "Did he also boast being British?" she asked pinching the bridge of her nose. She had heard the same talk herself. Not the most exciting pillow-talk.

"Of course!" Suri replied. "Probably he thinks he's more of a Brit than me. Bloody hell, I'm from Leeds!" She sighed, as if giving up again just remembering her interaction with Tamlin.

"Anyway, I'm keeping you from your job, you have a new tower of documents thanks to me, so I don't want to impose."

"Aw, thank you, darling. But, if you want of course, would you have any plans for lunch?"

She hadn't expected an invite for lunch, that she usually had alone or with Tamlin, Bron and Alis. Occasionally also with Lucien,the only other person in the office she was starting to have a connection with, but not as often as she would have liked. Knowing one more person was going to be good.

"No, actually."

"Then we can go eat something together, what do you say?"

"I'd love that, thank you so much!"

"Good, I'll see you in the lobby at 12:30."

Feyre smiled and was leaving the office when Suri added, with a laugh: "So you can finally hang out with someone else apart from Morrigan from HR."

Feyre turned immediately to find Suri's green eyes staring at her before winking with exageration. "Sorry, I just know all the office's gossip. But I promise I'll update you over lunch".

It was going to be interesting.

***

They were sitting at a Costa cafe down the road, drinking coffee after lunch. Suri, or Suriel as she had started referring to herself, was the true gossip queen of the office. There was nothing she didn't know and it was almost uncanny to see how well she read people, to the point of predicting what they would do in the future with an incredible accuracy level.

"It's a real talent and it comes in handy when you have to deal with legal stuff," she said.

"How do you do it? I mean, you must need some context," Feyre asked.

"Context aside, I think there are a lot of details that say so much about a person. How they move, how they eat, what kind of clothes they prefer. I believe it's called inductive reasoning, like the one from Sherlock Holmes."

"I'm scared to ask you what you can read about me," asked Feyre tentatively.

"Why would you be scared? I read, I don't judge. And, by the way, I already read you well enough." Suriel's eyes were sparkling with delight. "Bold colours, shiny things, the heels. Someone tried to mold you, didn't they? You eat fast, big mouthfuls, probably food wasn't enought growing up or you are just a very committed foodie. Which doesn't sound right because you are lean, but haven't asked anywhere for a gym or where to exercise, that I know of. So I'm going for the first."

Feyre was speechless. She sat there, unmoving, for a bit. "That was creepy."

"But am I right? You can not tell me, if you don't want. But know that nothing I just said makes me think less of you. I like it when people have a story to tell," Suriel said.

Feyre had never been one to talk too much about herself, maybe because a lot of people didn't pay attention to her in the past and recently she hadn't had any occasion to. "Not far from the truth. My family had some... financial struggles , while I was growing up."

"That explains your eye for details and the practicality of many of your opinions. It's a necessary skill when you have to survive."

"I never looked at it this way." Feyre admitted. She didn't feel uncomfortable, but she was quite sure Suriel was reading too much into her.

"Do you want to talk about-"

"How did you get the molding stuff? Can I not be just a fashionista?" asked Feyre, more curious about the other woman's method.

"It could be, but you don't wear things that have a distinct brand or label. I've seen you wear things that have character, lot of personality. Bold choices for an office environment, according to some people. The piercings, too, are recent. People usually get piercings done when they are young, dumb and drunk, with a needle and an ice cube. Yours don't feature in your resumé. So I can confirm they are recent. And what makes you go and get a piercing at 28, am I right?"

"Almost 30."

"Exactly, why should someone get a piercing at 30, if they don't want to re-gain control of themself, their life?"

"Damn, you'te too good. Did you study psychology?"

"Three semesters, before transferring to legal science. Touché."

"You would have been excellent at that."

"That's what I mean with people with a story. Everything we do tells something about us. Some people care to read it, other do not. How much you decide to tell me about your is up to you. I think you're fun, anyway. Might even want to go on another lunch date!"

Feyre laughed and finished her coffee. "My story isn't that interesting. I was born in Massachusetts, south of Springfield,"

"I have no idea where that is."

"Not important, I grew up in the area. Dad lost everything in the 2008 economic crash, mom couldn't accept the fact that we were poor. She wasn't bad, just... disconnected from reality. Worked here and there through high-school and then after that for three more years to move to college with my boyfriend."

"That didn't turn out good, did it?"

"No, definitely not. I was three years behind and when I started college for design he was already finishing his studies. His family put a lot of pressure on him to break things up with me because of various family things, bigotry, and other small-town problems, and he didn't have the balls to break thing cleanly. He got a side-chick and when I found out he pleaded that is wasn't cheating, because nothing physical had happened. I don't know what was worst: the emotional insult or knowing that she'd fulfilled those same physical needs he was using to absolve himself. Six years of relationship thrown to the wind because 'he didn't want to put his family in a difficult position'."

"Sound like a charming man. Maybe he didn't like being the one in a difficult position for once."

Feyre scoffed at the thought. Isaac had likes her plenty in very difficult positions, but that was definitely TMI. "He dumped me right when I got my first internship after graduation. He left me drowning in student debt, self destructive behaviour and a rift with my sisters. Thank god my oldest sister let me crash on her couch for months."

"We are glad she did. Don't let your past define you, though, darling. Look at you, you're thriving. I know you know."

"You're right, but it's hard sometimes to think of all the things I had to overcome to be here. He tried to mold me into something I was not, just like my mom. But that's a conversation for another day."

"I'll be kind enough to share my mom trauma when you'll share yours. I am afraid I cannot provide any juicy gossip on my love life, though. I prefer not having one, no drama for this girl," she said pointing at herself.

"Good for you. After him I threw myself into work. I landed a job at the firm, fucked up my relationship with my sister and relocated to Boston. Then, from Boston to London, with a one-way ticket. Good riddance."

"Maybe the UK suits you better than Boston, who know?"

"I don't know. I'm open to the idea, but it all depends on how much I can build here to call it a life. I don't want to have the same desert around me, like I had in Boston."

"Well, this lunch is a step in the right direction. Next one, more gal friends, and maybe who knows, a partner? A boyfriend... or girlfriend! I'm not assuming."

She was glad Suri was so easy to get along with, because the entire conversation would have been awkward otherwise. She felt strangely light after dumping an abridged version of her life to her. "We'll see where London takes me. At the moment I'm just here for the work, the shopping and, why not, the fun."

"Good for you, darling. Now let's get back to work before Alis thinks I kidnapped you."

As usual:

I'm 7 (8?) year late to the fandom? Yes. Do I care? Not really.

If anyone ever reads this, feedback is so welcome!

Inspired by A Completely Inappropriate Series of Events by @illyrianrhys and The Lucky Ones by @bibutterflies

Human Suriel is inspired by Worlds Colliding by RachelBanana20.

Thanks to: @fandomgurl20 @mystictidalwavedream @mich0731 @shinevanserra @jaxes101 @medusas-pubez and @weekendrunner for reading/interacting the previous parts! I cannot describe the gratitude! Thank you thank you thank you!

[canirove]

The Princess & the Football Player | Chapter 5

Previous chapter | Next chapter

Masterlist

"He was wearing what?"

"Just a towel."

"And you didn't faint?" 

"I was so shocked by what I was seeing in front of me, that I didn't have time to think about anything else."

"Oh my God" Roberta laughs over facetime. "And then he went to apologize?"

"He did. And he called me by my name, and I swear it has never sounded better. Eleanor" I sigh.

"Girl..."

"I know, I know. And you know what makes it even worse? That his girlfriend, ex girlfriend or whatever, was at the stadium too."

"She was?"

"Yep. She was wearing a shirt with no number or name on it, but she was sitting with the other wags."

"Then maybe she's there only as a friend."

"Maybe... I don't know" I say, letting myself fall on the bed. "When did you say you were coming?"

"In a couple of days for the last game of this round. You'll thirst for Declan, and I'll thirst for Rashford. Deal?"

"Deal" I laugh. 

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━      

"Ok, is everyone wearing their clothes?" Kane asks before completely opening the changing room's door. 

"One minute!" someone shouts.

"Who was that?"

"Jack."

"Oh dear" I say.

"Not a big fan, uh?" Kane chuckles.

"He just isn't my cup of tea. But please don't tell him. The other day he said I'm his favourite royal."

"I won't, don't worry."

"Ready!" Jack shouts again.

"We sure?" Kane asks, looking inside the room. "Ok. After you, ma'am."

"Thank you" I smile.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━      

"Nice to see you again, your Royal Highness."

"You too, Declan Rice. And wearing clothes this time."

"Disappointed?" he asks with a cheeky smile.

"A bit, not gonna like” I sigh. Oh my God, why did I say that?

"I like the number on your shirt” he says as he moves a bit closer, his finger hovering over my shirt as he draws the number.

"Because it is yours?" I ask, trying to sound cool and condifent despite feeling my heart beating way too fast.

"Maybe" he shrugs, still smiling. "Do you also have the red shirt? We are wearing that one for our next game."

"I don't look good in red."

"You look good in every colour, Ele... I mean, ma'am. I'm sorry. My mum always calls you by your name and I'm used to it" he says, the cheeky smile now turning into a shy one. I honestly don’t know wich one I like the most. Both? Both.

"It's ok, don't worry" I smile back. “And thank you.”

“What for?”

“For saying I look good in every colour. I don’t think it is true, but...”

“But it is true” he shrugs.

"Ok everyone, get ready for the photo" Kane announces.

"Would you mind if I posed next to you? My mum would love it."

"It'll be my pleasure."

"Great" he says with a big smile that is added to my collection of Declan Rice smiles that make me swoon.

Once everyone is ready, I'm posing with Grealish to one side and him to the other. Grealish has his hands in front of him, but Declan doesn't. One I suppose is on Kane's back since he is to his other side. The other... The other is on my back. On my low back to be precise.

If anyone else touched me like that, they would definitely get a murderous look from me and some words from David. But that's not Declan's case. Mainly because I think I've forgotten how my body works. I'm only able to feel his touch even through the fabric of my shirt, and it isn't until the photographer asks for some smiles, that I remember where I am and what I am supposed to be doing. 

"Ok, we got it. Thank you, everyone" he says.

"My mum is definitely framing this and putting it next to the other one" Declan chuckles.

"She has our other photo framed?"

"She does. She sent me a photo of the shelves where she put it, it's like you are part of the family" he laughs. “I can show you, I just need to go grab my phone.”

"Ma'am, we have to leave" David says behind us.

"Maybe... Maybe you can send it to me? I'll send you a dm on Instagram from my personal account."

"Oh, ok. Great. I didn't know you had one.”

"That's because it is a secret" I smirk.

"My lips are sealed, then" he says, moving his fingers over his mouth and making me look at it. At his lips. At how kissable they look.

"Ma'am..." David insists.

"Yes, sorry. Keep an eye on your dms, ok? And good luck for the next game.”

"Thank you, Ele... ma’am."

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━      

"You must be careful, ma'am."

"What?"

"That boy. You must be careful" David says when we make it to my hotel room.

"I don't know what you are talking about" I shrug.

"Eleanor..."

"You only call me by my name when it is something serious" I chuckle.

"Because this is serious. You are the future Queen of England, and he is a football player. It can't be."

"Why not?" 

"Haven't you heard what I just said?"

"Urgh" I complain.

"Eleanor, I know you fancy him. And he seems to fancy you too."

"Wait, what? You think he... You think he fancies me?”

"Yes, I do. To be honest, I don’t know how no one else has noticed. Especially today. You were so reckless...”

“We were just talking, David. And somewhere private.”

“But you are Eleanor, Princess of Wales. Talking about you sells. Imagine that someone in that changing room notices they way you were looking at each other, they tell their partner or a friend about it, and that person isn’t careful or tells the press about it. Or imagine that someone was taking a photo or a video with their phones, they post it on social media, and someone sees you.”

“But...”

“This relationship is not possible, Eleanor. Not even as a fling like happened last summer with Damiano. It just can't. So you better stop it before it even starts."

"What if I can't, David?" I sigh.

"It doesn’t matter. You must end this, Eleanor. You must."

[sirowsky-stories]

The Flowers Always Know

Chapter 8 - The Job

Description: Learning what Anita had planned for you wasn't at all helping your fragile state of mind. Marcus was, though.

**Beware! Author chooses NOT to display warnings on the individual chapters of this story. Read at your own risk!**

Rating: Mature 18+ONLY Word Count: 3490 (1691 words added) Masterlist (this story)

   Well, if you did have any expectations about what the job might be, you couldn’t have been more wrong.    Anita had left you alone in what would be your very own office, to think about whether or not you wanted to sign up for it, and honestly, you’d never been more nervous.    You’d been pacing around the relatively large space for a good hour, muttering to yourself and twisting your own thoughts into a veritable hornets-nest, until you didn’t even know what you were thinking about anymore.

   What parallel to this situation could have possibly brought your mind to fucking shoelaces? And exactly how much of the past hour had you spent comparing the advantages and disadvantages between round and flat ones?    A knock on the door woke you from your attempt at unravelling the nest, and you were physically relieved to find Marcus on the other side when you opened it.

   Once it had become clear to you that this anxiousness you were experiencing was only going to escalate no matter how many breathing exercises you tried, you’d decided to text him. Sending him just your location and a plea for him to hurry.    If you’d even attempted a phone call, you would likely only have ended up screaming incoherently at him, or possibly just sobbed like a child. Both options were feeling increasingly likely to happen either way, if you were honest.

   He noted your frantic expression when he stepped inside, but he didn’t comment on it, possibly for fear of setting off a bomb of emotions, which was admittedly not at all a ridiculous notion.    You wanted to thank him for arriving within a few minutes of receiving your message, but like him, you also feared that if you opened your mouth, the bomb would go off.    He attempted a humorous approach instead, which unfortunately didn’t work either.

   “Sooo… the job involves your own office, hm? Colour me intrigued,” he hummed, taking a little turn around the room with his hands clasped behind his back.

   You wanted to answer him with something coherent, something explanatory, but the moment you opened your mouth and sucked in a breath, panic was all that came out.

   “Marcus, I am freaking out!!” you all but shrieked, unable to control yourself at all, alternating between tugging at your blouse and nervously rubbing your sweaty palms down the sides of your jeans to try and dry them.

   “Whoa, hey… Easy, hermosa. What’s going on?” he beckoned, sounding honey smooth, but it wasn’t nearly enough to ease your racing thoughts down the slightest.

   You returned to pacing, still frantically trying to make your hands do something, as if it could somehow release a bit of the tension from your frame. But you must’ve looked absolutely crazy.

   “She wants me… Me… to be in charge of the ENTIRE Creative Division!” you spewed, not even looking at him to gauge his reaction, because you were too busy trying not to asphyxiate yourself through hyperventilation. “Which would mean I’d be in charge of everything from approving or even developing new action-figures, toys and games, to overseeing the school material for superpowered children.    It would mean being responsible for several smaller departments, handling budgets and lawyers and-… Oh my god… he press!?”

   You could feel your pulse skyrocketing and suddenly you really were struggling to breathe.

   “I… I can’t do this… Marcus, I can’t! It’s too much, too big… I’d never be able to handle it,” you panted, no longer pacing but twisting and turning on the spot, clawing at your collar even though it was already loose.

   But then a flare of anger found its way to the forefront of your emotional turmoil, and you were immediately spurred back into motion, gesticulating even wilder now.

   “And she knows it too! I swear she’s doing this just to fuck with me… What other reason could she possibly have, to offer someone completely inexperienced and untested such an advanced position?    You’re right, she is horrid!”

   Somewhere in the back of your head a small warning light was going off, yelling something about how you weren’t sure if certain offices in this building might be bugged, and if so, by the very same person you were cussing out right now.    But you couldn’t see that little blinking light behind all the blaring neon signs made up of your anger and fear.

   “Okay, please just stop moving for a second,” Marcus implored, and you wanted to, but your body felt like it was boiling and freezing at the same time.

   You felt like you were a freight-train, needing several kilometres of stopping-distance once you’d reached top speed. And you had no idea how to even operate the brakes.    Marcus had to grab your shoulders and physically stop you, and you still kept trying to tread on the spot.

   “Look at me, querida,” he beckoned, and while your eyes were darting all over the place, at his urging you managed to force them to stop on his beautiful face, and it made it slightly easier to breathe. “You survived the impossible. You did that.    Sure, there were doctors and nurses helping you fight, but all they did was keep your heart beating. The rest was all you.    You are the strongest and bravest person I know, and I truly believe that there is nothing you can’t do.”

   “But… I had you to lean on,” you protested, not really because you thought he was wrong, but simply because you were overwhelmed, and you wanted someone to tell you what to do so you wouldn’t have to think on your own anymore.

   “Well, I’m not going anywhere,” he countered with a nonchalant twitch in his shoulders. “And what in the world makes you think you’d have to do this alone?    Besides me, there are literally hundreds of people in this building that wouldn’t hesitate to help you if you asked. It’s kind of what we do here, remember?”

   You sighed and bowed your head a bit, feeling defeated by the fact that he wasn’t taking over your burdens and letting you escape from taking responsibility for yourself. Even though you knew he was absolutely right in just being supportive and encouraging.

   “Not two hours ago, I stood in your office telling you that I didn’t want to be a manager, and now that’s exactly what she’s asking me to be,” you lamented, the lack of movement forcing your body to settle down and the adrenaline to ebb out, leaving only deeply rooted fears and angst behind. “Every inch of me is telling me to just run out of here, and not even consider it, because this is not who I am.    I’m not a career-woman, I’m not ambitious like that. I don’t want fame or more money, I just wanna go to work every day and know that it makes me happy.”

   You looked into his eyes again, searching for some kind of positivity or at least softness, to shield your fragile nerves from the harshness of reality and responsibility. But instead, you were met by an uneasy sadness, the origin of which you couldn’t understand.    That is, until he spoke.

   “If that’s how you feel, then… why are you still here?” he asked, and he sounded so frail suddenly, as if one word from you could send him shattering into a thousand pieces.

   He’d always seemed so solid to you. So steadfast and reliable. And now he was crumbling, because of something that was happening to you.    For the first time since you found out what the job was, your body stopped trying to crawl out of its own skin, and you felt your shoulders slump with failure and shame as you realized what your words must sound like from his perspective.

   “Because of you, Marcus,” you hurried to explain, needing him to know just how important he’d already become to you. “Because the idea of coming to work every day and see you, talk to you, be a real part of your life, in any capacity, makes me absolutely light-headed with joy.”

   Damned it, why were your eyes watering? You needed to see his face clearly to know how he was reacting to this, and whether you should back off or press on.    But your heart was open and its contents already pouring out, so in truth, there was no stopping it regardless.

   “Even though I’m terrified of this job and all the repercussions it could have, there’s also a giant and treacherously fearless part of me which keeps telling me that none of it matters if I can just see you.”

   It ended up being a bigger statement than you’d intended, and now you were suddenly terrified you’d said too much.    You studied his face carefully as he stared back at you, but he looked… indecipherable. There was no way to tell if what you saw in his face was joy or sadness, or maybe incredulity. It could be all of the above.

   But whatever it was, you only saw it for maybe two seconds. After that, he was abruptly too close for you to make out anything other than the sensation of his lips on yours, instantly making you forget about everything else.    This time, his kiss wasn’t tender or soft, but demanding. Craving. As if something had unlocked within him and was trying to suck you in and lock you up so you could never leave him. Even his physical reaction seemed to confirm it, holding you so tightly to him you couldn’t have escaped his grip if you’d tried.

   Like before, your body reacted without your permission, or giving any advance warning, heating and quivering with the pleasure of feeling him pressing his entire body against yours.    You felt your hands find their way to his waist and immediately pulled his shirt out of his suit pants to go exploring on the warm skin of his torso, which he seemed to like immensely. Feeling your hot skin against his drew a deep growl from him, sending tendrils of excitement through your blood.

   He let his own hands slip underneath your shirt, but since he was clearly reluctant to allow any space between you, he settled for just stroking and caressing the taut skin of your back and occasionally squeezing the softer curves of your love-handles.    It wasn’t until your knees were actually starting to cave in from the oxygen-depravation caused by your uncontrollable panting, that he finally pulled away. His own breathing was equally laboured, and you were mildly smug about that.    At least you weren’t the only one losing control.

   “Damn… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to push,” he apologized as soon as he could speak, which threw you for a moment.

   But then you realized he was referring to your earlier reaction and how much it had scared you, and you could see how it would worry him.    This time had felt different, though. Maybe because it hadn’t been you who’d instigated this one. Or maybe just because you’d gotten over the shock of the first time now, so it felt less overpowering.    Whatever the reason, you were only happy in that moment.

   “I would say this felt more like being pulled…” you winked, shifting your arms up to wrap around his neck. “But either way, I enjoyed it. A lot, in case it wasn’t obvious.”

   “It did seem like it,” he chuckled, before turning serious again. “I just wanna be clear about the fact that I’m seriously not in any hurry. Yes, I obviously like you and I want to explore this further, but only on equal terms.    And as far as the job’s concerned, I don’t care if you take it, I’ll make sure you get to see me every day anyway, if that’s what you want.”

   You pulled back just a fraction, so you could look into his eyes without having to cross yours, and you were pleased to feel his grip around your waist unchanged even as you leaned your shoulders back.

   “I didn’t dare to believe you might be into me like this,” you admitted. “I told myself it was just about the recovery, and you were simply being the kind and helpful person you are. That you’d probably do the same for anyone who needed you.    Because why the hell would superhuman Team Leader Marcus fucking Moreno ever look twice at little old me, if not for the supervillain crossing my path.”

   “No, hermosa,” he immediately rejected your perspective. “It was never just about trying to set things right for you.”

   “I know. Somewhere in my heart, I always knew it was more than that. It’s just that I’m used to being passed over, or not even being noticed, and then you come into my life with this incredible intensity and emotional availability, and I couldn’t believe it was all for me.    To be honest, part of me still doesn’t.”

   “Yeah, I remember,” he surprised you by saying, and when you raised a questioning brow at him, he elaborated. “Do you still feel like our care of you was exaggerated?”

   You ducked your head then, not wanting to answer, which was of course also an answer.

   “Mm-hm, that’s what I thought,” he sighed. “Tell me what it’s gonna take for you to believe me when I say you’re worth every effort? Not because you’re special or more important than anyone else, but simply because you exist.”

   “I don’t know,” you admitted, raising your head enough that he could see your face, although not meeting his eyes yet. “I’m just such a mess right now. So much has happened in such a short time, and it still keeps on going. Like I’m on a treadmill and someone keeps increasing the speed, waiting for me to fall so they can laugh at me.    And maybe I’m dead wrong about everything, but I have never been cared for by anyone. I’ve always had to take care of myself and I’m proud of the fact that I always have.”

   “Yeah, I kinda guessed as much. And you should be,” Marcus softly commented when you paused to breathe, and this time, you did look up and meet his eyes.

   “I really don’t know if I can do this. But I think the reason it scares me so much is that a part of me really wants to try, you know? While another part of me is so sure I’ll fail that it just makes me wanna forget about the whole thing.    And then in the middle of all that, there’s you, and everything I feel about you, mucking it all up and making it impossible for me to know if I want the job because of you or because of the challenge.”

   “Hm. That’s a lot going on in just one little head,” he agreed with a mildly concerned crease between his brows, but he wasn’t trying to be funny.

   “Too fucking much…” you nodded, and then tried to bring a little humour into it yourself, just to take an ounce of weight out of the conversation. “Regardless of the size of the head.”

   It did work, making him smile again, but he was still concerned for you.

   “Ay, querida. Tell me what you need from me to help you make this decision?”

   You looked down on your own hands, which had settled on his chest at some point, and you fiddled with the buttons on his shirt while you tried to think.    What did you need?

   However, Mrs. Moreno had apparently decided to be the one to help you with that, as she, yet again, barged into the room unannounced, with that uncanny timing of hers.    Giving no indication she was even surprised to see her son’s arms around you, or your ruffled clothes, she simply stepped around the two of you, calmly looking at the desk and the chairs as though she was surveying the place.

   This seemed to you to be extremely odd behaviour, but Marcus looked only annoyed, so he clearly knew exactly what she was up to. He didn’t even bother loosening his hold on you, and just patiently waited for his mother to explain herself, as if they were engaged in a match of who could stay quiet the longest.    It took a while, and you wondered if you should interject, but something told you to just stay out of it.

   “Well?” she finally caved, after like five minutes of aimlessly trudging about.

   But it wasn’t her son she was addressing. She turned to look at you as she uttered the single syllable, and all at once, you knew exactly what she was referring to.

   “Am I wasting my time on you, or not? Because I told you; I don’t have time for intermissions,” she bluntly stated, letting her cane come to rest between her feet while she placed both hands over the head of it.

   Marcus’ arms tightened around you, as though he was trying to protect you from having to answer. But you did.    She could’ve offered you more time to think about it, but it wouldn’t have made the decision any easier to make. And you were fairly certain she knew this, which might mean she was actually trying to help you. Although it seemed unlikely.    You pushed away from her son, who reluctantly let go of you, and turned to face her.

   “Okay. I’ll take the job, but I’m not making you any kind of promises.    You know my resumé, which means you know damned well I’ll most likely fail, which for all I know, might be exactly what you’re hoping for.    But whatever angle you’re working, you better believe me when I tell you that this is not a game. You might be enjoying this, but it’s my reputation and credibility which gets ruined if I can’t cut it, so stop treating me like some stray dog you took home to try and domesticate.    I’m not your god damned pet.”

   You didn’t say it loudly, or angrily, just potently. And she smiled in return, which actually managed to make you feel better, somehow. Like you’d been officially initiated into the Kingdom of Mamá Moreno.    Now you just had to prove your worth. Which… shouldn’t be that difficult, right?    She swung her cane to the side and started walking, and it looked like she would leave without any further comment.

   “You’re welcome, hijo,” she smugly grinned at her son just as she passed him on her way out of the room.

   “For what?!” Marcus almost barked at her. “Stressing her so badly you nearly gave her a fucking heart-attack?”

   “No, mi amor. For showing you her heart,” Anita countered, impressively calmly, but her son apparently didn’t buy a word of it.

   “How would you know anything about her heart? You haven’t spared a thought to her or given her the light of day in four months,” he challenged, but she just left, looking for all the world like nothing at all significant had happened.

   Meanwhile, your nerves went straight back to fraying, and while Marcus was still shaking his head and staring after his mother in disbelief as the door closed behind her, your pulse had already hit the roof again, and you were literally seeing stars.    Your knees actually did finally give out, and you slowly drooped to the floor, panting, but with no amount of pleasure this time.

   It was a slow and silent kind of panic now. Something building from deep within you, freezing more than it burned, turning you abnormally still as it locked your body up, piece by piece.    Your breathing was the only thing giving away what was happening, and once he heard it, he forgot all about his mother and hurried towards you.

   “Sweetheart, what is it?” he asked as he crouched beside you.

   You wanted to answer him, but your jaw was locked up with the rest of you, so you closed your eyes and tried to think about happy places and peaceful moments, and it gradually brought some warmth back into your blood.    He seemed to understand you needed a minute and used his hands to rub soothing circles on your back and shoulders while he waited, and then just held you until you started being able to move again.

   “…Creative Department Manager,” you whispered, tasting the words for the first time, and they were just as daunting as you’d expected them to be. “Fuck me,” you added, just trying to release some tension from your brain.

   But from the corner of your eye, you could see him trying to resist smiling at your words, clearly relaxed now that he knew you weren’t going to need to visit the med-section.

   “Quite happily, hermosa,” he grinned, just barely able to keep from giggling. “But maybe not on the floor of your new office, on your first day.”

[zeawesomebirdie]

hi !!!! did NOT consider you might like to have the ask again to answer it. if you do:

seeing you post about your old west au is motivating me to at least draft my stuff out for my fic, too!!! so, firstly: good god thank you. secondly, what kind of drafting process do you normally go through? you don't have to answer this but everyone i know is pretty particular about how they write so i'm always curious!!!

Gosh okay I'm still so embarrassed about accidentally posting this before it was ready!! Lesson learned: only work on long posts on desktop (very affectionate). I'm going to copy paste what I had originally said, but there will be added stuff because it wasn't anywhere near ready to go (if you thought it was long before, honey you ain't seen nothing yet!)

Also I still am so proud of you for working on your fic, we are writing buddies now hand in lovable hand I love you thank you for enabling my rambling <33

Buckle in, here we go!

SO! My drafting process is always a moving target. I do what works best for the work in question, and things change depending on my energy and fatigue levels plus my motivation and interest levels

So that said, right now my process usually looks like:

ramble at someone in DMs, copy and paste rambles into a google doc for safekeeping and marinating

zero draft, aka word vomit until a plot forms, block out actions and the occasional dialog, determine chapter and story arcs

first draft, aka Where The Real Writing Happens

optional second draft, but only if the fic is under 10k

line edits

post :)

find a bunch of typos that I somehow missed during line editing, fix those before anyone notices

I will be showing examples because this is a bit hard to explain and Extremely Intense to a lot of people, and yeah that's because it is! I approach writing fanfic the same way I approach writing original fiction, and I find it works best for me as a plotter

If you are metaphorically inclined and familiar with oil painting: I write the way an oil painter paints. First I block in the big shapes, the gestures, and the colours. Then I come back in subsequent drafts and increase the detail until I'm done!

Further information and actual examples of my drafts will be below the cut, because this is gonna be super long and I love talking shop ^.^

And general content warning for non-graphic violence and graphic smut (and shitty early drafts); the examples are from Bruce Wayne/Dick Grayson fics

So before we get into the zero draft, I want to point out two things: first, I do full rewrites. This is why writing takes me one million years. I retype each and every word in each and every draft. Second, I'm actually trying something new with the Old West!AU, for reasons I will explain in a moment!

I started doing full rewrites in 2019 after a college writing course, in which we read Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott; she encourages the reader to embrace the shitty first draft. I ended up really benefiting from a zero draft too, something I first learned about in 2020 from someone on authortube who I no longer remember the name of. The zero draft is essentially a pre-draft, in which one gets the gist of the story out of their system before the prose clogs up the spigot

For me, zero drafts are something that need to be finished as fast as possible in order to get done at all, so due to the sheer length of the Old West!AU, I'm trying out writing little bullet points instead of my full zero drafting. Right now this fic is at 27 chapters, and this is part 1 of 3 total. I will be going back and filling in the actual blocking once I have all the scenes roughly accounted for

Context for the Old West!AU: Bruce is the Bat, a vigilante gunman who only kills when he needs to but still has the fastest draw on this side of the Mississippi. Now that he's taken care of the man who killed his parents, he's returned home to his Uncle Alfred and gone straight, meaning that he's hung up his guns and gone back to homesteading the family land. He adopts Dick and then a year later Jason as well, when small burglaries start happening in town, so he takes the Bat out of retirement and goes to investigate.

My bullet points started out like this:

Open on comparison between Bruce's first gun and the Bat's guns. Introduce Joe Chill, general drunkard. The Bat calls out Chill, shootout, Chill is killed. Chill drew first. Moment of reflection between Bruce's first gunfight at 15 to this one, at 21. Bruce goes home.

And that's the whole entire first chapter!

However, now they look more like:

The Sheriff runs up and shoots at him. The Bat has him disarmed with his own gun barrel to his throat in an instant. It doesn't take the Bat much time to get info out of him either. The burglar is only going after small change, not enough to be noticeable. That rules out the gambler, easily. The Sheriff can't do shit about it, because no one is willing to start an investigation for such small change. The Bat shoves the Sheriff to his knees and is gone before he notices. Alfred is waiting for him when he gets home, and asks. Bruce tries to deny it, but the clothes are in his hands and he can't. So he sighs and says he may have made a promise, but… there might be more to this than there seems, okay? He just… has a bad feeling about it. Alfred can't accept this, what about his sons? Bruce can't take this, and tells him he doesn't have to. Their yelling wakes up Dick and Jason, who stand in the doorway to their bedroom and look on with the door mostly closed.

Eventually both Alfred and Bruce yell each other out, and they sit down for coffee as dawn breaks. Bruce breaks the silence first, saying Alfred is right. Alfred tells him he understands. Bruce decides to let the Bat go for real now.

This is about half of the chapter, and closer to the blocking I normally do in zero drafts

So far this pre-zero draft seems to be working, given I've already finished part 1, but I also can't wait to come back and do the blocking in because that's when the fic really starts to take shape!

Usually though, I just start with a zero draft. I'm going to show you two different fics for the zero draft examples, because they were done differently, and like I said at the beginning, I try to adjust my process based on what is called for by what I'm writing

This first is from the fic I'm writing for @ful-crum. It's a 5+1, in which it is five times Dick fucks Bruce to distract him from discussing his emotions plus one time they actually discuss their emotions and then fuck about it.

Tim and Jason turn up an hour later, and they're incredibly concerned. Dick waves them off. Tim takes him at his word and heads to bed (he has a meeting with Wayne Tech at 8am tomorrow, ugh), but Jason sits down next to the bed and asks Dick what he thinks Bruce is going to say. Dick tells him he's not sure, I mean, it's B, y'know? Jason just nods, and they lapse into silence. Then Steph and Cass come in, and Bruce is most noticeably not present. Cass signs something about bed, and Steph tells Dick that she's worried about Bruce, to which Jason snorts and says they all are, but she insists that Dick talk to him. Dick doesn't even need to take more than a moment to decide that won't be happening. But Steph goes to bed, and it's nearly 04:00 when Jason heads up too, saying he'd love to help Dick lecture Bruce about staying out late but he's got stuff to do tomorrow. Dick asks if he wants to know what stuff, and Jason gives him a smirk and says ask him no questions and he'll tell him no lies. Dick can live with that.

As you can see, this is just general staging directions and vibes

This second example was supposed to be for BruDick Week 2024, but I accidentally got carried away and ended up deciding to write a longfic for it instead. The prompt was "brudick meet their AU!selves," so I did 66!brudick meets the Gotham Rogues Polycule, an AU in which Bruce, Dick, and Clark are in a very elaborate polycule with half of Gotham's villains.

Batman and Robin were on a normal mission in the middle of the day, on the trail of Catwoman, who's been stealing from the Gotham Museum of Art again. One moment they were walking into the museum, the next they were in a weird swirl of energy. Robin clings to Batman and asks what's going on, and Batman tells him steady Robin, we just have to stay calm and see what happens. The energy clears as someone calls out “incoming! Clear the floor!” and they find themselves in what is clearly the Cave, except it's even more high tech than anything they've ever seen. There's three people in suits like theirs standing in front of a massive screen, and Robin identifies the Riddler immediately, even if he doesn't recognise the other two. Before Batman can stop him, he charges the Riddler, who jumps behind the man in black and blue with a laugh. Batman does call out for him to stop, but he ignores him. The man in black and blue meets his every move, almost like he's fighting himself, and he calls out to the man in red and blue “a little help here, Supes?”

The biggest difference here is how drastically these fics changed from their zero draft to the first draft rendition, and that is entirely because of how fleshed out they ended up being (or not being, lol)

When I zero drafted the 5+1, it was with the intention of that specific part simply being a chapter, whereas my original zero draft of the 66! meeting the polycule! fic was actually intended to be a two shot at most. I unfortunately lost control of the plot during the first draft of that one, and it spiraled into a longfic, which will become more clear in a bit!

Basically though, the goal of the zero draft is to know who's where and why at all times! With longfics, there is often a restructuring that happens after the zero draft is written, where I move scenes and sometimes whole chapters to their best locations. This is where I make the most use out of a beta! Pacing is a big struggle for me and it is easier to fix at this stage, before I have all the prose and have become attached to what I've written

Next up is the first draft, and this is a whole new document. This is where I write The Actual Words. This is more or less the final version of the fic, for longfics, give or take a few paragraphs and a shit ton of line edits. Having said that though, I write in fits and bursts, because y'know disabled and stuff. So I write a paragraph or two at a time, and I am constantly adding and subtracting words and lines and sometimes whole paragraphs while I am actively working on a chapter

I'm going to show the first draft versions of both of the above fics, and due to the length these will be extremely excerpted but they should serve as examples regardless. Generally speaking, my zero drafts are about 1/3 of the length of my finished fics, however the 5+1 is currently proving to be an exception so that number may not be super accurate

First, the 5+1:

“You did take care of them, right?” Dick asked, groaning when Jason’s mouth thinned as he looked away. “Is Steph at least still with him?” “Last I heard, they were—” Jason started, cutting himself off when the Cave’s alarm signaled the arrival of newcomers. A moment later, two muddy bikes roared into the garage, leaving dark tracks behind them as they parked haphazardly together on the far side of the garage. With the return of Black Bat and Spoiler, the only empty place on the garage floor now belonged to Batman himself. Dick tried to catch Jason’s eyes as they waited in the med bay for Cass and Steph to strip off their suits and join them, but Jason turned away from him, though he didn’t rise from the bed. Something must have gone down after he’d fallen unconscious, Dick was sure of it. Why else would Bruce have sent everyone else home early on a patrol night? He could already see it in his mind’s eye, Batman doing God-knew-what out in Gotham alone, Bruce coming home with a busted lip that Dick would have to personally clean up before they went to bed, how that lip would scab over and feel under his tongue when he kissed Bruce the next morning after waking up in their bed—Bruce’s bed—on accident. How that scab would stretch when the ghost of a smile caught Bruce by surprise after one of Dick’s terrible puns. “You okay?” Steph called across the Cave as she and Cass walked toward the med bay. “Never been better,” Dick replied, trying not to be put out at Jason’s eye roll. He put up a hand for Cass to inspect when she came up to his bedside, and after she had nodded her satisfaction of his health he smiled. “I’ll be right as rain in no time.”

And the 66! meets polycule! fic:

“You!” Robin shouted, not waiting for Batman to back him up as he charged toward the Riddler. Riddler didn't move—in fact, none of the three moved—then Robin was on him, punching his face hard enough to hear a distinct crack. That startled all three into action, Riddler swearing up a storm before throwing himself behind the blue masked man, who blocked Robin's next hits without hesitation. “Robin!” Batman called from somewhere behind him, but Robin ignored him, focusing his energy on striking past the masked man's defenses to get at Riddler. “I know you're behind this, you– you scum!” Robin snarled in Riddler's direction, placing a perfectly timed jab toward the masked man's left cheek and then feinting to the right. But the man met him easily, as though they were merely sparring. “I'm not who you think I am!” Riddler exclaimed, his hands cupping his face but doing little to staunch the blood streaming from his nose. “Let's slow down for a minute, okay?” the masked man said, his voice maddeningly level as if Robin wasn't trying every trick he knew to get past him. “We can explain.” “Yeah kid, there's a good explanation here, we promise,” Riddler added. Robin growled and spun around the  masked man's reach only to find him once again directly blocking him from Riddler. How in the dickens did he know exactly where Robin was going to strike before Robin himself knew? And why on earth was he protecting the Riddler? “Supes, we could use a hand here,” the masked man said, still obnoxiously calm, once again blocking Robin's fist and this time circling his hand around Robin's wrist to twist his arm behind his back. In a blink, Robin was lifted into the air by his collar, the blue and red suited man holding him at arm's length. Robin continued to struggle for a moment, but finally Batman came into view, frowning up at him. Seeing Batman's disapproval took every bit of wind from Robin's sails, and he deflated instantly. If Batman didn't think he needed to fight, then he probably didn't need to.

So as you can see, I just kinda fill in the details with each draft!

Which is where we come to the optional second draft. I try, I really do try, to do a full second draft of everything I write. I always am glad to have done one, once it's done. The problem is, I really do have very limited energy, and anything longer than a chapter or two just doesn't get finished if I try to give it a full second draft. I've instead been doing really vigorous line edits, which I don't have an examples of because those are done in the same document as the first draft!

Now, you're probably wondering why on earth I gave a smut content warning at the beginning of this post. WELL.

I am calling myself out as a newbie when it comes to the art of smut writing. My 5+1 fic, the one where literally every single part has extremely explicit smut, has the following in the zero draft:

Yes, that is not one, not two, but three "cue smuts." Clearly I was new at this (affectionate)

Shout out to past!me for this in the last part though, because at least it actually has some semblance of blocking even if it is still extremely lacking:

The kissing escalates (as it often does) to smut over the desk (though Dick does try to move the documents out of the way, even if Bruce is growling at him to leave it alone; he doesn't want to be the reason Tim has another caffeine-induced breakdown).

I didn't figure this out until I was actually writing this fic, but it turns out I not only need to block in regular action scenes, I also need to block in the smut, because otherwise I will be sitting there having no fucking clue what to write (very affectionate)

So I now present what a zero draft of smut looks like! This is from a 5+1 in which there are five times Bruce and Dick fuck because of Poison Ivy's sex pollen and it "doesn't mean anything," plus one time they fuck because they actually want to:

Dick asks if they can take off their suits, it's too hot he's too hot, and Bruce says okay, that's a good idea, and internally he's panicking because oh no. Oh no. But the moment the words are out he sees the relief in Dick's face, and realises Dick needs to be told what to do right now, so he tells him clearly to strip, it'll help. Once Dick is fully naked in the other seat, he turns to Bruce and asks if he needs help with his armor. His hand is tentatively, almost shyly stroking his cock, and Bruce is really struggling to not watch. He tells him no, he doesn't, and takes off the chest plate and arm armor, but leaves what's left of his leg armor on. He decides he can safely put his hand under his boxers, but Dick makes a little noise, and when he looks over he can clearly see Dick watching him stroke himself. Oh fuck. He's cumming before he even realises it, his boxers getting wet and sticky and his cock still so maddeningly hard and he strokes himself through it, unable to stop himself from moaning even as he tries to keep himself in a clinical mindset. Dick asks to see him, and Bruce, despite knowing what a bad, horrible idea this is, pulls down his boxers to reveal his cock. Dick shifts his hand on his own cock to mimic what Bruce is doing, and Bruce has the horrible realisation that he doesn't even really know how to jerk himself off. Dear God, hopefully Alfred stays the fuck out of the Cave tonight.

So it's really just more of the same general blocking directions and vibes!

Another thing of note for zero drafts, I try to use as few words as possible to get what I need across. These are only ever intended to be seen by myself and a beta, assuming anyone else besides me even sees them at all, so I use slang and shorthand and leave notes for myself in the text itself

This can be a bit weird for when I show it to betas (or anyone else, for that matter!) because there are some fics where the tone or the vocabulary in the zero is incredibly modern despite the fic being in a historical or pre-modern setting!

And I have yet to actually write the first draft of that one, so I'm going to give you the first draft of the "Cue more smut (but this time against the batmobile 😌)" scene so that you can see the difference between the blocking and an Actual Scene:

Bruce had turned his back to him, bracing himself against the batmobile, and Dick took hold of Bruce's hip to hold him steady when he slid a finger into his hole. A soft moan was all he got in verbal response, but Bruce pushed against Dick's finger despite Dick's best efforts to do this slowly. Chuckling under his breath, Dick slid in a second finger, relishing in the clench of Bruce's muscle as he began working him open. “Easy, B,” he said softly, leaning over him enough to move his hand from Bruce's hip to his cock. Bruce growled and arched into his touch, taking in Dick's fingers completely. “Someone's in a rush tonight, huh?” He didn't get a verbal response, not that he ever did. Bruce rarely spoke while full, relying instead on nonverbal communication to indicate his needs. It hadn't taken long for Dick to become acquainted with his movements back when they started this; after all, fucking was no different from fighting, not for them, not when they had flown side by side across Gotham for more than half of Dick's life. And Dick knew Bruce would always try to get him to rush just a little, knew he'd give in like he always did, wanting to have his cock inside Bruce as soon as physically possible just as much as Bruce did. He wasted no more time, sliding his fingers out and releasing Bruce's cock just long enough to slick up his own. The small whine from Bruce at the loss of contact ought to be ignored, ought not be acknowledged, and Dick knew that, but he couldn't resist leaning over to kiss the small of Bruce's back. Bruce huffed at him, glaring over his shoulder. Dick met his eyes with a grin. Then Dick gripped Bruce's hip again, holding him steady while Bruce leaned back to meet him, and slipped into his tight heat. There was a soft moan from Bruce the moment he bottomed out; Dick leaned forward again to kiss up his spine, keeping his cock buried deep even while Bruce began to rock back into him.

I do think the fic for @ful-crum would be easier if I had proper blocking for the smut, but also I do love a good challenge and you live and you learn, so I'm not super invested in going back and blocking in the smut at this point in time!

And honestly, once the line edits are done that's pretty much it!

I keep a little "posting info" doc for each and every fic I write, to which I add tags as I come to them in writing, so that I don't have to think about what needs to be tagged at the end after I've already forgotten what I've written. That has saved my butt so many times ngl, especially for longfics!

But really what keeps me from posting more often, despite how much I write, is that I fully finish fics before I post them, even if I'm posting them on a weekly or whatever basis. This is mostly because I can't guarantee when I'll need to randomly take several months off of writing, and I don't want to leave anything unfinished, but also because I don't want to actually end up leaving something unfinished for a few years until I cycle back into the fandom

And that's it!! Thanks for tuning in to this little master class :) If I can clarify anything please let me know; I tried to explain everything that I thought needed it but I can never tell what others will need more clarification on!!

And also, thanks again for asking this!! I don't know many people who do full drafts, or even many people who don't completely pants everything they write, and so I'm always excited to discuss my process!! I also am a firm believer in "take what helps and leave the rest," so if you find something in my process that sounds like something you'd like to do, give it a whirl!! I think it's super important to share the different kinds of processes there can be for writing, because everyone really writes so differently, you know?

Anyway, thanks for stopping by and I hope you enjoyed my shitty early drafts (very affectionate)!!

[thevulturesquadron]

Hi! I just want to say that WOW you are an amazing artist. Your anatomy and colouring are just breathtaking. How long have you been drawing?

I am a thirty year old baby at art and trying to improve and push through being bad at art, but i'll be honest, it's frustrating having hands that just cant make what i am seeing in my head! Basically... how long do you think it took you to make art that is kind of good? And do you have any tips?

What??!! Thank you so much!!!!! 💜💜💜

I have no words, really. I always feel like I am such a fake when it comes to art because I draw once every 5 years under the impulse of a hyperfixation or another, and I feel like I never take the time to improve. You are too sweet, I don’t deserve it!

I’ve been doodling here and there since I was in highschool, but only seriously picked it up in my 20s. And trust me when I say ‘here and there’. I used to try my hand for a couple of months and then it would take years to go back into the mindset of wanting to do more and better. It’s been like this ever since. I just do things when I have too much love for something and I need to let it out somehow. But in all honesty I feel like I started to be confident with myself and my range only when I hit my 30s so what I am saying is - it’s never too late, as long as you return to it no matter how rusty you feel. But that feeling of never being good enough compared to what you envision - be it art or writing - that’s never going to go away, you just need to conquer it and accept that every piece you make is another step towards getting better. And I know it sounds like a cliché but try not to put any pressure on yourself because of that either -  even if you end up drawing once in a blue moon like me, it counts. It really does! And sometimes you get a bit proud of what you do, sometimes you’ll feel like you learnt nothing. Knowing and understanding that - that it’s not just a way up, that it has highs and lows - has been the one thought that has always kept me going. Gosh, when it comes to tips I feel like there are so many other artists here that are better equipped to help than I am, but I’m happy to share a couple of ‘quick/dirty first stops' that have saved me from giving up:

References!!! Don’t EVER be afraid of using references especially when learning anatomy. Look for poses that inspire you, gather angles for hands, feet, eyes. You are not cheating, you are learning. If you are like me also, and drawing/sketching is a hobby and not a career, using references for poses comes with no strings attached. I can’t stress enough how important it is to use references. 

Colours: I. suck. at. picking. colours. Trust me. Most of the things I draw I leave as sketches because my brain can’t comprehend colour theory so when I do end up adding colours it feels like a miracle each time it looks ok. So I use palettes. There are sites online but also most tools for digital art offer ways to create colour pallets. Sample & drop is your friend! 

Also depending on what tools you are using, don’t shy away from playing with colour balance, brightness, curves or from experimenting with colour overlay layers to unify the look. 

In general, based on what program you use to draw - look for simple tutorials to get familiarised with it. I use Procreate and to this day I am amazed about how many ‘cheats & tricks’ it has. 

Probably a beginner move but one thing I rely on is Pinterest - I create boards for poses, references, colour pallets. So that when I get an impulse to draw and I am not sure where to start or what colours to use I have a library of things I saved in time! 

Hope this helps! Again, I don’t consider myself a real artist, I don’t sell any of my work and I just post what I create here out of love for a fandom or another. BUT I am always happy to share the little I know or learned along the way so don’t hesitate to ask! <3 

[sollucets]

Hi, this is Dani (aka @5racha) and I just saw your "event 12: loss" gif set (which is a spoiler for me but i don't care) and I absolutely love the fact you can do black and white with the gold showing. Is there a tutorial out there how to gif black and white with a colour? I mean, an easier way than to just colour each frame individually. Do you have one or is there one? I've been wondering about that for a while now and your gif set is looking absolutely incredible.

ah hello!! thank you for liking my set ;u; <3 fair warning, i notably love talking about this kind of thing and i am incredibly longwinded so i'll get the direct answers out of the way first and then i'll ramble at you about my own gif process for a bit

here is a color isolation tutorial (found via @usergif, who have many such good things). i havent specifically used this one but it's good and im basically about to rephrase it for many words

and basically.... there are ways to do it and sometimes it can be genuinely quite easy (hue/saturation is your friend!) but if your scene is problematic (lots of movement, the color youre trying to isolate is a skintone, low contrast between colors etc) it's still going to be really hard, and in the end some things Will be an every-frame or close to it kind of deal if youre still determined to do it

my eclipse prefects set basically demonstrates -- the blue ones were really really easy, since you just have to desaturate all colors except blue. the reds, because some of the backgrounds also contained red and because it's a skintone you then need to readjust, is much harder. you can kind of tell by the curtains in the first gif how this might cause a problem

and now im going to talk your ear off trying to explain applying that to the gaipa set in. far too many words. sorry

this set, being that the color is "yellow", is one of these problem children, some more than others -- for example, i tried to do the first one like this but gave up (check out the cool gray spots near his temple and his collarbone :'D)

the middle two were problematic using keyframes too, but a bit easier because they have less movement and the backgrounds are also darker, so ill try and show you, in case it helps??

here is the base coloring (ignore the orange skin, i knew i wasnt keeping this and also moonlight chicken is kind of like that)

then, the bw layer is added (i use gradient maps for grayscale usually), and then i crop out the section i wanted to stay colored using the ps pen tool -> path -> selection and then use that to apply a layer mask. you can also kind of handpaint this sort of thing if that's easier for you

the next couple layers up are color adjustments for this section, to make the yellow that already exists at base brighter & tone down the red. i have four more layers at the very top to do this and adjust the colors golder & more vibrant.

now then the actual trick is in keeping the layer mask on the correct part of the gif. so if i just did the layer mask on the b/w layer like that and didnt keyframe, because this gif moves itd stop working - it isnt Super movement, so it's not actually that big of a difference, but you can see (no keyframes on the right:)

the gray creeps onto the vase, the table, and the upper part of the flowers. if you overcorrect in the other direction, the skin of the woman right behind the flowers will become visible. so ! problem solving: keyframes

that's how it looks like - you start at the beginning of the gif with your layer mask selected, then click the stopwatch next to 'layer mask position'. then i usually use the move tool and arrow keys just to shift it along with movement of the object, and you press the yellow diamond at each point you do so

this is not foolproof and im still sort of new at it, so it can sometimes look odd. case in point if youve spent as long staring at this gif as i have you probably noticed the keyframe movement (it kind of jumps.....) but i decided i could live with that. sometimes you just have to figure out where your standards for 'looks bad' are, too OTL

gif 3 is like this too -- the only notable difference is that, instead of just desaturating the colors i didnt want i covered over them with a gold gradient map layer

so, basically, all of these gifs do originally have yellow in them, but i bass boosted the shit out of it and also colored over it in some places, and i used keyframes to fix movement

i hope this is at least interesting & that you can get use out of the tutorial, hehe. thank you for asking! enjoy finishing moonlight chicken, my belovedest of series

[masonxmahir]

It was a little thing sure, really if he spent a solid time he'd like get back to the top, but Ralph's words comforted them great. "Thank you buddy! I'm grateful for ya, really am!" He didn't have siblings but he supposed this is what it would feel like to have someone stick up for them. "Cold War?" Mason questioned but listened intently, "Damnn.. yea okay, Mason also thinks you're cool! I'll send a doughnut your way too! They love that, that's what movies told me," he added that last bit in whisper to Ralph. It was smiles all round as talks turned to nicknames and hair colours, "Okay good! 'Cus I was gonna say, I already got a pretty sweet nickname. But god, yes to that, we definitely had more fun as blondes! Hey Mo, get a poll going, should me and Ralphie go back to blonde? Yay or nay. Might change up regardless, but be nice to get a vote too."

Ralph gave a very serious nod, putting his hands on his hips. "Whoever they are, they sound like a real piece a' work, ya dig it? Got me frosted. Cruisin' for a bruisin', they are. Itchin' for a switching." He did not know why they did not like Skittles, but Mason's displeasure was enough to rile him up into becoming an ally in this new quest. Throwing back his head, then, Ralph gave a laugh. "Pal, I lived through the goddamn Cold War. The feds will get ya. Ain't you ever seen a movie in your entire life? So! For any feds who are listening, Ralphie thinks you're cool and handsome." He threw an arm around Mason's shoulder. "Mo's my favorite," Ralph beamed, happy, really, that his nickname plots were playing out in his favor. He shook his head. "Hey! We can have multiple nicknames, pal. That ain't standing between us, my good-lookin' twin. The hair is, though." A hand came up to play with a lock of Mason's. "We gotta get touched up, I think. Ask the audience if we had more fun as blondes, ya dig it?"

[averlym]

hi hi hi! not sure if youre still taking requests but.. could i get some parrward? I adore your art style and im so glad youve been alive and active again!! I remember I found your acc back in 2019-2020 and I got curious looking at my old acc and I had SO many of your posts liked- and here we are now! Hope life is treating you well ! :)

hihihi!!! some parrward for you <33 i hope life is treating you well too!

[luveline]

more mean eddie if u feel inclined he’s delicious ❤️🫶❤️🫶 a punishment perhaps? or just normal teasing

MDNI 18+ (cw smut, p in v, mean dom!eddie, punishment, overstim, stoplight system, all consensual roleplay, maybe dacryphilia, little bit of aftercare/checking in) ♡ fem!reader | 1.3k words

You look really fucking cute in handcuffs. Not that Eddie would tell you that now when he's pretending to be mad at you, not when you're looking up at him all glassy-eyes and resentful.

"What, baby?" he asks softly, hand curving down your cheek until his fingertips are under your chin. His voice hardens into something cruel. "Something to say?" 

"I'm sorry," you say for the tenth time in as many minutes. 

"I know. I just don't care, s'all," he says without any inflection. 

He pushes his hips in closer, cock pushing into resistance, your cunt a vice around him. He assesses your face carefully and decides that you're fine – the vibe always tenses you up. Your hips are locked, thighs tight to his sides. 

"I can't," you mumble tearfully. 

He pushes the vibrator up into the hood of your clit and grins at the hitch in your breath, knowing you're close to another climax. The first had been easy on you but it was also why you'd ended up in this situation. You'd cum without asking, and now you have to be punished. He's rock hard and aching inside you, desperate to fuck you silly but not wanting to overwhelm you anymore than he is. 

He watches your face crumple up. You look like you might burst into tears, and then you're glaring at him. 

"Oh, is that how it is?" he asks, beginning to roll his hips, adding to the wave of stimuli you're under. If you're gonna be a brat, he's not gonna go easy on you.

You reach down to try and push him away but the handcuffs have made your hands useless. 

"Sorry," you say. Sob, more accurately. 

He pulls the vibrator off of your clit. When your hips move up, searching for it, he lets you have it again. He's reluctant to ask for your colour because the scene has been going so well, but he always worries when you start to cry. 

He trusts you to tell him if it's too much. He continues. After all, you look really fucking pretty with tears running down your face.

"Why couldn't you just ask me, huh? Why can't you be good?" 

"I am good," you protest tearfully, eyes closing tight as he pushes circles into your soft clit. He hisses as you clench down, as you bring your hands up up your chest and your lips part. You struggle to continue for a second, and then you say, "I'm sorry, Eddie, I'm sorry, you just- you were going so fast, I didn't-" 

"So it's my fault?" he asks. 

"No!" 

He rolls his eyes and bites back a smile. Your chest heaves rapidly. Your every breath is affected, an amorous twist to each one, pretty little moans that are starting to drag.

He spreads your cunt open with his thumb and frowns sympathetically at your swollen clit. You can't hide how much you like the contact. Eddie knows you're hungry for both his cruelty and his affection. He spits on your clit and spreads it around with the vibrator, totally enamoured by how pretty your cunt looks like this, puffy and wet. 

He knows you're close to cumming and winds down the scene. "I'll forgive you." 

"Thank you," you say, relieved. 

"If," he continues, hand spreading across your abdomen gently, palm pouring comfort, "you make a really pretty sound when you cum."

All your sounds are pretty but you have a tendency to hold your breath when it gets too much. He wants to hear you.

"I want to hear you fall apart," he furthers, holding your gaze. "Okay? Is that fair?" 

"Yes," you say weakly. You'd agree to anything at this point. 

He starts to fuck into you steadily, searching for that sweet spot that's gonna get you to your climax. One hand holds the vibrator and pushes in until you're panting, the other hooks under your knee to hold up your thigh and it's not long before he's fucking in as deep as he can, biting his cheek to stop from showering you in praises. 

A second before you shatter he leans down to kiss your trembling hands. The handcuffs clink as you try to cup his face. Fuck, he loves you. 

You cum and make the prettiest moan he's ever heard, clamping down so hard that he has to pull out. 

"Eddie, Eddie please," you say, though he's not sure what you want. He holds the vibrator in place until fat tears are rolling down both cheeks and you're squirming away from him, turning it off and tossing it to the side with little care. 

You gasp for air. He lets your thigh fall back over his own and rubs down the lengths of your restrained arms lovingly, your skin damp and hot under his palms. 

"What colour?" he asks. 

"Yellow. Maybe blue," you say. He waits patiently for you to decide, leaning down for another kiss, this one against your hip. Yellow means you want to slow down, blue means you want to keep going but without any pretend games. 

You look unsure. Eddie senses a red stoplight on the horizon and leans over you to pick up the handcuff key from the nightstand. 

"It's okay if you want to stop," he says gently, clicking open your handcuffs to reveal your sore wrists. He leans down to kiss them, too. 

"I just need a minute," you say decidedly. 

"You want a hug?" 

Your lip wobbles as you open your arms. Shit, he thinks. 

He lets his weight fall onto you and tucks his head into your neck. You wrap your arms around his back, trembling, hugging him so tightly that he thinks he might get fingertip bruises over his ribs. 

"Did I do something you didn't like?" he asks carefully. You shake your head. "Did you want to use your safe word?" 

"No… sorry, I'm okay. Don't worry. I'm okay." You dip your chin to your neck and press a dainty kiss into his bangs. "Just dropped, I think." 

That makes sense. It was an intense shift from one emotion into another.

Eddie pushes up to look at you, bringing one of his hands to your neck. "You did really well. You did. And I'm not mad at you for anything, okay? It was all part of the game." 

"I know." 

"Good. Good girl," he says, stroking his thumb over your throat. He can feel your heartbeat under his touch, slowing back to normal. 

You stare at each other for a little while. Both smiling, talking without talking. 

"I'm okay," you say again. 

The tension eases from between his shoulders. He leans down to kiss the sweet corner of your mouth. "You're more than okay. Fucking beautiful. You sound-" He squeezes your neck very mildly, "so fucking insane when you cum like that." 

You giggle as you say, "I thought I was gonna have a heart attack. What the fuck do they put in those batteries? Uranium?" 

He chuckles and ducks down to plant kisses all over your face. "Normal batteries. You're just sensitive," he teases between them.

You bury your hands in his hair and angle his face for a regular kiss. Your lips brush together chastely. He closes his eyes and all he can feel is you. Your nose slides against his. 

"Do you want to keep going?" you ask him quietly, guiding his head back. Your eyes are lit up. 

"Is that okay? How are you feeling?" 

"I'm feeling like you need some taking care of. Can I take care of you?" 

Eddie, as cliche as it is, would let you do whatever it is you wanted to do. He beams at you and struggles backwards onto his haunches, pulling you up with him as he goes, careful of your poor wrists. "Do your worst, sweetheart," he encourages. 

You grin like that's exactly what you'd been planning.

[artedimichelangelo]

Hi love! I am in need of some fluff for Aegon 🥺 may I request something with him falling in love with reader who is his aunt / Alicent's sister and trying to prove himself to her? Only if you are comfortable with it of course 😇 thanks!

My heart is yours, as yours is mine - Aegon Targaryen x Hightower!Fem!Reader

Author's Note: Hii! Thanks for your request, I know it's late and I think that this is not even really good, I tried my best on this one and I hope you like it. I also added a few lines from "Dangerously Yours".

Pairings: Aegon Targaryen x Hightower! Fem! Reader.

Warnings: English is NOT my first language; possible grammatical errors; Targaryen inc*st (reader is Alicent's sister); a tiny bit of angst; fluff; kinda ugly results of my writing, I don't think I did a good job on this one; let me know if there is something else that I might have forgotten.

Word Count: 790 (a really short one as you can see).

Issa gevie rūklon: My beautiful flower.

Whenever Y/n entered a room, Aegon longed for her eyes on his figure.

He took every opportunity he had to prove himself to her. To show his aunt how great he was, although he knew he really wasn’t, as his mother always used to tell him.

There were many different reasons why Aegon did that. Y/n looked at him with different eyes, proud ones, as she was the only one to really love him, in his good and especially in his bad moments.

The prince was in love with the young Hightower, another explanation to his odd behaviour.

“Aegon, my dear?” To wake him up from his thoughts was Y/n’s faint voice. "My dear" echoed in his ears like a soft melody from the birds of their majestic gardens.

“Yes? Is there anything you need, aunt?”

The young Targaryen moved his hand towards Y/n, his fingers barely touching her cheek. Almost too afraid to feel her soft skin, afraid he might hurt her in some way.

“I wanted to talk to you about something important.” She sat opposite to him and grabbed his cold hands into her warm ones, their fingers almost intertwining. “So I shall require your utmost attention.”

Aegon gave her a confused look, his breath stopping for a second. The worst case scenario flooding his head: what if someone hurt her? What if someone tried to touch her? Was she perhaps getting married?

He nodded, signalling her to proceed.

“As someone who deeply loves you, I must speak the truth.” Her eyes were focused on her nephew, almost as if she could ever detach them from him. Y/n’s emerald green velvet dress glowed faintly under the dim lights of the chamber, showing how it tightened around her curves and how it perfectly matched her voluminous crimson hair. “I believe you are doing too much.”

The prince did not know how to respond. All the words stuck in his throat, almost preventing him from breathing easily. He had by no means expected such an answer, and did not fully understand what she was referring to.

“My sweet and precious treasure, you can barely rest, your dark circles are as violet as the colour of your eyes, you are exhausted from fatigue and pain, and I can sense it perfectly.”

Aegon couldn’t even look at her. He felt embarrassed, guilty for no reason, weak compared to how he had shown himself the previous days, as tears ran down his now scarlet cheeks.

“My brave dragon, do not overwhelm yourself because you do not need to prove anything.” She took the prince’s face in her dainty hands and made him look carefully into her eyes. “Not to your mother and especially not to me.”

Y/n welcomed him into her arms and whispered sweet nothings in his ear, her fingers intertwined between the white and silky locks of Aegon’s hair.

The young Targaryen prince could perfectly feel her flowery aroma, almost intoxicating his nostrils. However this did not bother him. Her scent made him feel close to the Gods, as pleasant as it was.

“You are enough, my love. I wish you could see that with my eyes.”

A moment of silence fell between the two. It wasn’t awkward at all. It was quiet and put the two at ease. It made them appreciate the warmth of the flames dancing in the fireplace.

“May I kiss you?” He whispered, but Y/n heard those words clearly.

Everything felt surreal to her at that moment.

“Come again?”

Without any warning, Aegon’s lips quickly found Lady Hightower’s. At first she was taken aback, then she slowly melted into the delightful motion.

Y/n didn’t know if what was happening was right or wrong, but still it was almost impossible for both of them to pull away from each other.

“I love you. You may as well take my heart Y/n, it’s already full of you! I love you like a bee loves a daisy.” Aegon’s violet eyes lit up when they landed on her green ones. “I would die for you, I would kill for you, if that means you are safe.”

Blood flushed her cheeks and her heartbeat grew faster with each word.

They were both aware that no soul in the Seven Kingdoms could be as devoted to the young Hightower as the prince.

“My heart has always been yours, Issa gevie rūklon.”

“And my heart belongs only to you.” She reassured him, although he already knew that.

They were aware that everything would have had consequences in the family.

But it did not matter in that moment, as exchanging pleasant kisses and warm touches was enough to give them a fair amount of peace of mind to worry about the world another time.

[holdmytesseract]

How to Magic 》 The Baby Fever AU

Loki Laufeyson x fem!Reader

Request: "Baby Ella a few years later learning to control her magic!" - Requested by a nonny! 😁

Summary: It's time for Ella to get her first lesson in magic!

Warnings: none, just fluff

Word Count: 1,3k

a/n: Thanks for requesting, dear nonny! I hope you like it! 😊

Tagging: @lokisgoodgirl @lovingchoices14 @evelyn-kingsley @jennyggggrrr @acefeather2002 @lulubelle814 @vbecker10 @theaudacitytowrite @lady-rose-moon @aagn360 @ficitve-sl0th

If you want to be added to my Loki Taglist, please let me know! 😊

"I think she's ready." Y/N peeked up to Loki from where she laid on the picnic blanket, head resting in his lap, as he sat behind her underneath the big sunshade. She was dressed in nothing but a black bikini and sunglasses. It was summer - and damn it was hot outside. "Who is ready for what, babe?" Y/N asked her husband, rubbing circles in the skin of their intertwined hands. "Ella. I think she's ready to slowly but surely learn to use and control her seidr." The woman lowered her sunglasses a bit and gave him a stern look, "Really? Are you sure?" before she turned her head to gaze over to the small swimming pool, which stood in the big garden of the Avengers compound. Ella and Eisa were in the pool together, playing and dabbling happily in the water. Good thing, that they were about the same age...

"Yeah, really? You think?" The God nodded, before he started to smile. "After all, she asked me at least once a week for the last two years, when I am finally going to teach her magic." Loki said, chuckling softly. "Well, that is true." Y/N giggled alongside him. "When you think she's ready... Then please." Loki looked down at his wife and caressed gently her cheek with his free hand. "I thought about this a lot and figured it would be probably better to teach her how to control her seidr before she starts elementary school. We both know it was already quite adventurous sometimes in pre-school and the kindergarten..." Y/N grimaced slightly. "A bit, yes. But luckily most of the 'incidents' were absolutely hilarious." "Yes, the majority was, but... The older she gets, the more her powers are able to increase." "Well, in that case it's probably better if you teach her now..." Loki nodded, "I would say so, too, my love." before he moved his wife gently aside to stand up, causing her to pout. "Where are you going now, babe?" "Joining my daughter and niece." He said with a mischievous smile. Y/N rolled her eyes, but smiled as well. "Go easy on them." Loki just winked again and leaned down to kiss Y/N softly.

A day later, after Loki picked Ella up from the kindergarten, he decided to give the excited little girl her first lesson in magic.

"Ella?" He stood in the door frame of her room, smiling. "Yes, daddy?" Ella sat currently at the little table, on the pink chair and was colouring in her colour book. "Would you like to practice some magic with me, princess?" She quickly turned in her chair, eyes shining, smiling like a Cheshire cat. "Oh yes, yes!" "Come on, then!" The little girl literally jumped up excitedly from her chair and followed her father through the hallways of the Avengers compound and out in the garden, where he knelt down in front of her. "Okay, sweetheart. The most important thing is, that you need to concentrate. You need to focus, yes?" Ella nodded quickly, was giddy with excitement. "Perfect. Now... I want you to close your eyes. Can you do that for me?" "Of course, daddy." Ella squeezed her oceanic blue eyes shut. "Here comes the more difficult part. You need to feel, Ella. Think of your seidr; the magic flowing through you. Try to feel it." "How do I know if I can feel it?" Loki smiled to himself. "You'll see, princess." He gently reached for her small hands, enveloped them with his bigger ones, "I am doing it with you." and closed his eyes as well. It didn't take Loki long to feel his powers, coursing through his veins. After all, he was well proved in this - a master of his magic. It was going to take Ella a while to master it as well, but Loki was certain that she was going to make it. Without a single doubt. "I can't feel it..." Ella said, audibly sad. "It takes a bit, Ella. Just try to keep thinking and feeling it." "Okay..." Another minute or so passed, before Loki heard her suddenly gasp. "Can you feel it?" He opened his eyes again, witnessing Ella nodding frantically. "I-I think." Then she started to giggle adorably, making the God smile again. "What do you feel?" "It tickles!" Ella said, still giggling. "That's good, princess! See, I told you… You are able to feel it!" The girl reopened her eyes as well, smiling brightly - without a doubt, her mother's smile. She lunged forwards to hug Loki, wrapping her short arms around his neck. He accepted the hug, of course, without wasting a second. The God would never get tired of holding his daughter. Never.

"What's next, daddy?" "You need to learn to control it. That's very important - like you know." Ella blushed at his words, knew as well that her magic caused a few incidents to happen in the past. "But it'll take time, so you need to be patient - something you still need to improve a bit, right?" Loki stated, gently tickling her belly, making her laugh again. "I know. Mommy told me before." Loki nodded. "We will start slow. I'll teach you simple magic tricks at first. In that way, you can learn to control it. Okay, Ella?" "Yes!" She clapped her hands, excitedly jumping up and down. "What are you going to teach me first?" "The first thing your grandmother taught me as well..." The God smiled at the memory, now playing inside his mind like a movie. "What is it, what is it?" "This." He outstretched his hand, palm upside. Ella's eyes widened in fascination, as she stared at his hand, when small fireworks erupted from it. It wasn't the first time she saw her father doing this, but it fascinated her every time anew - a thing that warmed Loki's heart. "How do I do that?? Show me, daddy! Show meee, please, please, please!" The God laughed at her eagerness and giddiness; the fireworks in his palms subsiding. "It's not that difficult. Think of fireworks and connect that thought to your palm." Ella nodded and stretched out her palm. "Just try it, princess - and remember to stay focused and concentrated. Don't be sad, if it doesn't work with the first try. Have patience." "I'll try, daddy." Ella then focused, stared at her palm concentrated. Nothing. She tried again, but it didn't work. "Keep trying." Loki said, attempting to reassure her. Ella tried again - still nothing. She let out a frustrated breath. "Are you sure I can do it?" Her father nodded, smiling softly. "I am certain. Patience, princess, patience." Ella outstretched her palm again. "Try to feel it. Feel your seidr, feel the fireworks tickling against your palm." The small girl nodded, focusing at the task ahead. At first, it still wasn't working, but suddenly, small sparks of red, green and blue escaped her palm, causing the girl's eyes to widen. "Daddy! Look!" "I can see it, Ella. Keep going!" He encouraged her. A few moments later, the small sparks turned into real fireworks. "I am doing it! I am doing it!" Ella exclaimed excitedly. Loki smiled, felt the proudness spreading through his body. "Very good, princess. I'm so proud of you." Ella's eyes shone bright. "Can I try again?" "Of course!" She smiled and tried again - with success. "Well done, Ella." She jumped once again up and down, causing her raven curls to bounce. "I have to show mommy!" She gasped. "And uncle Thor! And auntie Nat!" Before Loki could even say something, Ella stormed inside the compound. "Mommy! Mommy!" Loki smiled, watching her ran off. He was sure, that Ella would show her new learned magic trick everyone she saw on her way - and he absolutely adored it.