#anyways. fathers in star wars. you get it

[irondadfics]

Hello! This is my first time ever doing this so apologies if it’s wrong in anyway lol but could you please find any fics that have Peter calling Tony ‘Dad’ accidentally? Thank you so much!! ^^

here are some. Enjoy!

Wait, What Did I Just Say? by Jen27ny

This is Part 2 of the “Was that a Star Wars reference, Dr. Stark?” series.

Peter was getting used to the fact that Tony was his father. The most difficult part: not calling him Mr. Stark anymore. So what should he call him instead?

3 times peter accidentally calls tony 'dad' to someone and 1 time he accidentally says it to tony by orphan_account

Peter just can't stop calling Tony "Dad".

He Called Me 'Dad' by tamaranianprincess

Peter accidentally calls Tony 'dad'

Wisdom Teeth and Daddy Issues by Yousaydoctorisaywho

Wisdom teeth surgery is always painful and an interesting experience. But throw in some powerful medication, a completely out of it Peter Parker, a protective and slightly terrified Tony Stark, the Avengers Team, milkshakes, and certain choices for words... well, then you get this beauty.

Know You by Heart by LovesFrogs

Peter's finally at the end of his senior year, and the class is celebrating with an all-nighter event. Unfortunately the hypnotist they hired chooses the wrong kid to play a little joke on...

[willowcrowned]

Luke, leia, incomprehension and incompatibility

[send me a prompt!]

"He needs to die," Leia says. She can see the black carcass of him in the distance, on the outskirts of the Ewok village—a smoking ruin that just keeps living and living and living.

Luke looks at her, too noble and too sad. "He's our father."

(Luke's her dream knight, Leia thinks. Exactly the boy she'd imagined when she was seven, eight, nine—there to whisk her away from Alderaan on adventures. Full of good, and justice, with big blue eyes like the desert sky.

Leia hasn't been on Alderaan in a long, long time.)

She doesn't say anything back—not about fathers, not when she had one, when he was perfect, and terrible, and she loved him so much it hurt and he loved her back just as much.

"He's a war criminal," she says instead. She doesn't look at Luke, focuses on the skyline instead, where the smoke of the fires rises into the trees. "Or he will be, anyways, when we can get a real tribunal together. If we don't execute him, we set a precedent."

Luke puts one hand over hers. She looks down. Her knuckles are white from gripping the rope railing.

"That's not why you think he should die." Luke's voice is soft, barely louder than the breeze stirring around them. Her head echoes with it, too loud to escape.

"No," she says, because she refuses to be a coward. The word falls out of her mouth like steel. "No, it's not."

She can feel her shoulders collapsing inwards, her chest folding in on itself like a dying star. I want my dad back, she thinks. I want my dad.

She can feel Luke's chest against her shoulder, then. His arms around her.

"It won't bring him back." Luke's voice isn't even a whisper anymore. It's just in her head, like a gong. A bell tolling a death march.

"I know," she snarls, ripping herself out of his arms—and that's out loud, that's tearing into the air around her and burning tear tracks down her cheeks.

Leia stares at the ground far below her, hovering above it for one long moment, balanced against the rope. Then she pulls back, turning her back to the blackness of the forest floor.

Luke is crying. She's never seen him cry before.

It's silent, with large rolling tears as big as dewdrops in Iridonian pitcher-plants. In the moonlight, they shine clear, then fall off his face into the void below.

"He's my father," Luke doesn't say at all. In her head, his voice is clear, steady. And afraid. "Please," he says. "He's my father."

Leia presses her lips together, digging her nails into her palm so hard that she can feel bloody crescent-moons forming.

Go, she says. The night is silent around them. The word rings clear between them. They are the only ones that hear it. Take him, and go.

[kraftykelpie]

Grogu has defeated Luke not really, but don't tell grogu that, and tries to apologise by offering a keldabe kiss. He misses by a few millimetres.

Grogu, sitting on Luke's midsection: *grabby hands at Luke's face, his thumb claws a little too close to Luke's eyes for comfort.

Luke, propped up on the ground: *laughing* those're my eyes buddy <3

[indistinctchatt3r]

The way Sol can't bring himself to believe that Osha killed Indara, even with the overwhelming amount of evidence. The way he knew with such certainty that she was alive, because he would've felt it somewhere and somehow if she had died. The way he couldn't believe the little girl he'd saved, raised, and fought for had killed someone. The way he interferes because he can't handle her being treated like a criminal. The way he initially refuses to consider the idea that Mae was alive, but as soon as Osha proposes the same theory, he instantly believes her. The way his face breaks with relief and he can't help but smile at the sight of her. The way he would rather blame himself for Osha's circumstance rather than let her in any way blame herself. The way he can't help but stare and reminisce and regret. The way his heart would so clearly do anything for her but that's the one thing he's forbidden from doing.

[gallusrostromegalus]

Move To A Darker Place

This is a story of Man Vs. Machine.

---

Last March, my father attempted to file his Taxes.

My beloved father is a Boomer. Unlike most Boomers, my father is rather handy with technology because he was one of the people that had a not-insignificant hand in Developing a hell of a lot of it. He was studying Computer Science at Cal Poly before the computer science degree existed. I have many fond childhood memories of skipping through the aisles of various electronic and computer part warehouses while Dad described something that either terrified the staff or made them worship him as a God.  He taught himself how to use his smartphone.  Internationally.

So when he saw the option to file digitally with the IRS through the “ID.me” program, he leapt at the chance to celebrate the Federal Government finally entering the Digital Age.

It was all going swimmingly for about six hours, until he was ready to file and the system told him that it needed to verify his identity. 

“Very Well.” said my father, a man unafraid of talking to himself and getting something out of the conversation. “It wouldn’t do for me to get someone else’s return.”

The System told him that it needed him to take a “Digital Image ID”.

a.k.a: A Selfie.

“A-ha!” Dad beams. Dad is very good at taking selfies. He immediately pulled out his phone, snapped one, and tried to upload it.

Please log into your Id.me Account and use the provided app to submit your Digital Image ID. The System clarified.

“Oh. You should have said so.”  Dad pouted, but used his phone to log onto the ID.me account, do the six security verification steps and double-checked that the filing looked the same as it did on the desktop, gave the IRS like nine permissions on his phone, and held up the camera to take his Federal Privacy Invasion Selfie.

Please align your face to the indicated grid. Said The System, pulling up a futuristic green-web-of-polygons approximation.

“Ooh, very Star Trek. Gene Roddenberry would HATE this!” Dad said cheerfully, aligning his face to the grid.  My father is a bit… cavalier, when it comes to matters of personal information and federal government, because he’s been on FBI watchlists since the late 60’s when he was protesting The Vietnam War and Ronald Regan before he’d broken containment. Alas.

Anyway, there is very little information the federal government does not have on him already, but he’s as good at stalking the FBI as they are at stalking him, and had worked out a solution:  He has something approaching a friendship with the local Federal Agent (Some guy named “Larry”. Allegedly), and got Larry hooked on Alternative Histories and Dad’s collection of carefully-researched “there is very likely buried treasure here” stories, and Larry is loath to bother his favorite Historical Fanfiction author too much.

But I digress.

After thinking for a minute, The System came back with an Error Message. Please remove glasses or other facial obstructions.

And here is where the real trouble began.

See, my father wears glasses that do substantially warp the appearance of his face, because he is so nearsighted that he is legally blind without them. His natural focal point is about 4 inches in front of his nose.  While Dad can still take a selfie because he (approximately) knows where his phone is if it’s in his hand, he cannot see the alignment grid.

He should ask someone to take it for him! I hear the audience say. Yes, that would be the sane and reasonable thing to do, but Dad was attempting to do taxes at his residence in Fort Collins, while his immediate family was respectively in Denver, Texas and Canada.  He tried calling our neighbors, who turned out to be in Uganda.

He looked down at the dog, Arwen, and her little criminal paws that can open doorknobs, but not operate cell phones.

She looked back at him, and farted.

“Well, I’ll give it a try, but if it gives me too much trouble, I’ll call Larry, and Larry can call the IRS about it.” Dad told her. 

She continued to watch him. Arwen is an Australian Kelpie (a type of cattle-herding dog), going on 14 years old, deaf as a post and suffering from canine dementia now, but she still retains her natural instinct to Micromanage. She was also trained as a therapy dog, and even if she can’t hear my dad, still recognizes the body language of a man setting himself up for catastrophe.

So, squinting in the late afternoon light next to the back door, Dad attempted to line his face up with a grid he could only sort-of see, and took A Federal Selfie.

The System thought about it for a few moments.

Image Capture Failed: Insufficient Contrast. The System replied. Please move to a darker place.

“...Huh.” Dad frowned. “Alright.”

He moved to the middle of his office, away from the back door, lit only by the house lighting and indirect sunlight, and tried again.

Image Capture Failed. Please move to a darker place.

“What?” Dad asked the universe in general.

“Whuff.” Arwen warned him against sunk costs.

Dad ignored her and went into the bathroom, the natural habitat of the selfie. Surely, only being lit by a light fixture that hadn’t been changed since Dad was attempting to warn everyone about Regan would be suitably insufficient lighting for The System.  It took some negotiating, because that bathroom is “Standing Room Only” not “Standing And Holding Your Arms Out In Front Of You Room”.  He ended up taking the selfie in the shower stall.

As The System mulled over the latest attempt, Arwen shuffled over and kicked open the door to watch.

Image Capture Failed. Please Move to a Darker Place.

“Do you mean Spiritually?” Dad demanded.

“Whuff.” Arwen cautioned him again.

Determined to succeed, or at least get a different error message that may give him more information, Dad entered The Downstairs Guest Room.  It is the darkest room in the house, as it is in the basement, and only has one legally-mandated-fire-escape window, which has blinds.  Dad drew those blinds, turned off the lights and tried AGAIN.

Image Capture Failed. Please Move To A Darker Place.

“DO YOU WANT ME TO PHOTOGRAPH MYSELF INSIDE OF A CAVE??” Dad howled. 

“WHUFF!” Arwen reprimanded him from under the pull-out bed in the room. It’s where she attempts to herd everyone when it’s thundering outside, so the space is called her ‘Safety Cave’.

Dad frowned at the large blurry shape that was The Safety Cave.

“Why not?” he asked, the prelude to many a Terrible Plan.  With no small amount of spiteful and manic glee, Dad got down onto the floor, and army-crawled under the bed with Arwen to try One Last Time. Now in near-total darkness, he rolled on his side to be able to stretch his arms out, Arwen slobber-panting in his ear, and waited for the vague green blob of the Facial grid to appear.

This time, when he tapped the button, the flash cctivated.

“GOD DAMN IT!” Dad shouted, dropping the phone and rubbing his eyes and cursing to alleviate the pain of accidentally flash-banging himself. Arwen shuffled away from him under the bed, huffing sarcastically at him.

Image Capture Failed. Please move to a darker place.

“MOTHERFU- hang on.” Dad squinted.  The System sounded strange. Distant and slightly muffled.

Dad squinted really hard, and saw the movement of Arwen crawling out from under the bed along the phone’s last known trajectory.

“ARWEN!” Dad shouted, awkwardly reverse-army crawling out from under the bed, using it to get to his feet and searching for his glasses, which had fallen out of his pocket under the bed, so by the time he was sighted again, Arwen had had ample time to remove The Offending Device.

He found her out in the middle of the back yard, the satisfied look of a Job Well Done on her face. She did not have the phone. 

“Arwen.” Dad glared. It’s a very good glare. Dad was a teacher for many years and used it to keep his class in order with sheer telepathically induced embarrassment, and his father once glared a peach tree into fecundity.  

Arwen regarded him with the casual interest a hurricane might regard a sailboat tumbling out of its wake. She is a force of nature unto herself and not about to be intimidated by a half-blind house ape.  She also has cataracts and might not be able to make out the glare.

“I GIVE UP!” Dad shouted, throwing his hands in the air and returning to the office to write to the IRS that their selfie software sucks ass. Pleased that she had gotten her desired result, Arwen followed him in.

To Dad’s immense surprise, the computer cheerfully informed him that his Federally Secure Selfie had been accepted, and that they had received and were now processing his return!

“What the FUCK?” Dad glared. “Oh well. If I’ve screwed it up, Larry can call me.”

---

I bring this up because recently, Dad received an interesting piece of mail.

It was a letter from the IRS, addressed to him, a nerve-wracking thing to recessive at the best of times.  Instead of a complaint about Dad’s Selfie Skills, it was a letter congratulating him on using the new ID.me System.  It thanked him for his help and expressed hopes he would use it again next year, and included the selfie that The System had finally decided to accept.

“You know, my dad used to complain about automation.” Dad sighed, staring at the image. “Incidentals my boy!  My secretary saves the state of California millions of dollars a year catching small errors before they become massive ones! He’d say. Fought the human resources board about her pay every year.  I used to think he was overestimating how bad machines were and underestimating human error, but you know? He was right.”

He handed me the image.

My father was, technically, in the image.  A significant amount of the bottom right corner is taken up by the top of his forehead and silver hair.  Most of the image, the part with the facial-recognition markers on it, was composed of Arwen’s Alarmed and Disgusted Doggy face.

“Oh no!” I cackled. “Crap, does this mean you have to call the IRS and tell them you’re not a dog?”

“Probably.” Dad sighed. “I know who I’m gonna bother first though.” he said, taking out his phone (Dad did find his phone a few hours after Arwen absconded with it when mom called and the early spinach started ringing). 

“Hey Larry!” Dad announced to the local federal agent. “You’re never gonna believe this. My dog filed my taxes!”

Larry considered this for a moment. “Is this the dog that stole my sandwich? Out of my locked  car?” he asked suspiciously.

“The very same.” Dad grinned.

“Hm. Clever Girl.” Federal Agent Larry sighed. “I figured it was only a matter of time before she got into tax fraud.”

---

I'm a disabled artist making my living writing these stories. If you enjoy my stories, please consider supporting me on Ko-fi or Pre-ordering my Family Lore Book on Patreon. Thank you!

[dapurinthos]

messing around with mortis because it's one of my least favourite arcs in the clone wars.

the idea of force 'gods' just puts my teeth on edge because it feels way too western for the buddhist-based cosmology, where there are spirits, enlightened beings, tutelary deities, and so on, but the conception between deva and the western notion of a god are so different that they shouldn't be considered the same category. they aren't immortal, they don't create things. the closest you get is when it intersects with other eastern religions.

having severe the bakkhai flashbacks here, to dionysos's:

I am something supernatural  not exactly god, ghost, spirit, angel, principle or element –  There is no term for it in English.  In Greek they say daimon –  can we just use that? 

we're going on a long trip wrt mortis here behind the cut.

getting back to eastern religions. i keep going back to the concept of the three pure ones and the way they're created (the tao produced one (wuji/nothingness/pre-creation; one produced two (taiji/separating yin & yang); two produced three) pings interesting thoughts.

the daughter & son of the mortis trio are called 'the winged goddess' and 'the fanged god' by the nightsisters. no father present. the tsis had an indigenous got named typhojem, the left-handed god, a title that implies that there is a right-handed deity to match. pomojema, the deity worshipped on mimban, is a healing deity. there's a whole thing about how rogue one was very nearly placed on mimban, involving the temple of pomojema before they invented jedha. their names even go together, both containing -jem, though there is the -a suffix on pomojema's name.

i think that the typhojem/pomojema pairing could be the tsis equivalent of the nightsister's binary.

if the three on mortis are something divine (not my favourite interpretation), then they should work similarly to the three pure ones, except i think it would go more like an allegory of the 'birth' of the force:

there was the one, the force all inclusive; this one split into the two: ashla/the winged goddess/pomojema/'the daughter' and bogan/the fanged god/typhojem/'the son', symbolizing the separation of the dark and light sides of the force (not dark as in the way of the sith, but more of a creation/entropy cycle split); these two later created the third, dai/'the father'/balance (yes dai, not bendu, because that name's already taken).

this third part/creation is something that happened later, going by its absence in the nightsister & tsis cosmologies with the dual deities instead of a trinity.

or: the dark current of the force existed before all, in a time of formless chaos, until the coming of the bright flare of the force that allowed the dark current, bogan, to exist in opposition and balance to the bright flare, ashla. to keep the balance between them, so that creation and entropy, order and chaos would never outweigh each other, ashla and bogan came together to create dai.

(the bendu is the reversed tarot card of dai. he is 'the one in the middle' but he is the one in the middle solely by virtue of not doing anything to upset the 'balance'.)

as to the inhabitants of mortis, well. due to it's time fuckery, i think it's just a group of lost je'daii who have no idea what year it is and that 2000-year-old signal is one that the jedi order itself had been using since the beginning of their order and only changed when phanius went off and became darth ruin and his little section of the sith pulled a couple 'oh no we are all alone and scared! help us, fellow jedi!' a few too many times so the order changed it then. after using it for thousands and thousands of years.

as far as these three know, they just left tython after the force wars and the dissolution of the je'daii order to explore 'wild space', found this tho yor-looking fucker (melting pot canon of yes, it's a tho yor, it was built as a final redoubt to protect mortis from the rakata getting hold of it, with another one around the wellspring of the force planet that disappeared over the myriads, the tho yor themselves being built as a gree, kwa, zeffo collaboration), went on in, found their ship was irreparable, and set off the emergency beacon that's been popping up on jedi scanners ever since, confusing the hell out of people as it moves around the galaxy however it wants.

[queenlucythevaliant]

Update: I WAS RIGHT! There's a visionary channel on YouTube called Star Wars Opinion that made this edit of Revenge of the Sith and it's absolutely fantastic. I watched it this past week while house-sitting and oh my goodness what an experience. It's still admittedly a flawed movie and it does drags a little bit around the middle, but viewing it this way brings out all the very best things about it. I actually teared up a little bit at the end, which is not something I ever expected to get out of the Star Wars prequels. Cutting out the dialogue and just letting the music and visuals speak is the absolute best thing you can do for Revenge of the Sith.

No luck finding a comparable edit for the other two prequels (I'm curious about AotC, not gonna lie. I want to see how it plays with no dialogue and "Across the Stars" just doing its thing.) The complete scores are all there on YouTube though, so maybe I'll just take a crack at syncing it up myself.

So my dad does this thing where he watches Revenge of the Sith on mute because it's actually a pretty good movie if you just cut out all the dialogue. I would like to propose that the ideal way to watch the prequels is actually on mute with the score playing over them. Treat 'em like old fashioned silent movies, basically.

Like, okay, case study: it's not very easy to buy Anakin/Padme romance when you watch these movies. None of the dialogue sells it, it's mostly stilted and a little creepy. You know what does sell Anakin and Padme as this epic, doomed romance which leads to Anakin's fall? "Across the Stars" by John Williams. I watch those two in Attack of the Clones and I feel nothing. I listen to "Across the Stars" on the way home from the airport after binging a bunch of Clone Wars on the plane and I kind of want to cry.

Like, let's get rid of the jenky dialogue during the Mustafar duel, all the "from my point of view the Jedi are evil!" stuff that sounds like a ten year old wrote it, and just let John Williams convey the emotional beats. People already say that the Maul Duel in TPM is a highlight of the series and it's already 99% score and fight choreography. Let's just do that for the whole trilogy! I bet you anything the watchability and emotional impact shoot straight up across the board.

[slutforfinnickodair]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐄

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐭 𝐚 𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐓𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐨, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐝, 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞..

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐩! (𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝟐𝟒, 𝐡𝐚𝐲𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝟒𝟑), 𝐛𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤, 𝐜𝐥𝐢𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲, 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤, 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐧𝐨 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 (𝐰𝐫𝐚𝐩 𝐢𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐚𝐩 𝐢𝐭!)

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐅!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐇𝐚𝐲𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧

𝐀/𝐍: 𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐋𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐒 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋! 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐇𝐄𝐑 @angelst4re <𝟑𝟑𝟑

-------

“So? How was your ‘date’?” One of your colleagues called Ashley asked as you kept pouring yourself the poor coffee that was made in the office.

“Horrible.” You muttered while leaning against one of those desks. “I mean, we talked, argued, screamed at the other and then I left.” You took off your glasses and stared at her lazily.

“Well, he was a dick anyways.” She stated while you widened your eyes, giggling as one of the kids from the lower classes ran by the door, straight to the next class that was next room.

“Quiet, I don’t want them to hear such things.” You said while smiling slightly.

“How about Belle? Is she okay?”

“Don’t even get me started.”

“Come on. Tell me. I don’t have any classes left.”

“But I do.” You said while Ashley took you by the arms and pulled you back into the office.

“You have language. Fourth period. It’s only the second yet.”

“Fine.” You muttered while sitting down with her by her own table.

“She’s doing fine right now, though I called some of those girls' parents in to make sure that they knew what their children were doing.”

“Do you know why they did that? I mean she is the sweetest kid in that class. There’s only one girl who likes her.”

“I think the source is her parents.” You sighed while stirring your coffee, even the smell making you flinch.

“I never saw any of them picking her up yet. Who are they?”

“Oh my god your husband is obsessed with Star Wars and you don’t know who Belle’s father is?” You asked while realization settled down on her face.

“You are not for real right now.”

“And her mother?”

“Well she lives in Los Angeles so..” You swallowed. “She spends most of her time with her dad.”

“He has a chokehold on me. Don’t tell this to Jeremy.”

“I won’t.” You laughed softly. 

Ashley eyed you for a second before she started talking.

“He’s still single isn’t he?”

“Ashley!” You exclaimed while trying to keep in your giggles.

“What? I’m just trying to point out the best things.”

“He’s forty three.”

“Hmm how well educated you are.” She smirked while you rolled your eyes, smiling to yourself as you kept stirring the black liquid.

“You are keeping something away from me aren’t you?” She asked while you tilted your head, licking your lips.

Oh how you still wished it were his lips laying on yours, lapping for a taste.

“Nothing.” 

Maybe you kissed once, but it meant nothing. He probably had many different hookups and you were only one of the girls who had a chance to accidentally be stuck in an elevator with him.

—

“Mr Christensen?” Your voice dripped with seriousness as you placed the phone between your shoulder and head, scribbling over some papers as you waited for his response.

“Yes?” The deep voice rang through your nerves as the pen between your fingers started to become more productive over the piece of paper.

“I would like to settle down for a talk with you. Hopefully on Friday. Anytime it’s good for you.”

“What would it be about?”

“Your daughter. What else?”

“I thought you wanted to talk about last week.”

“What exactly happened last week Mr Christensen?” 

You heard a deep chuckle come from the other side of the line.

“See you later.”

—

You sat in your office on a Friday afternoon while the screen of your laptop in front of your eyes made you tired. 

But the screen or the light wasn’t what made you feel anxious.

Ever since your call with Hayden, you’ve been playing with your fingers, readjusting your clothes or even brushing your fingers through your hair. Though you didn’t invite him into your office to talk about yourselves, it felt like you did.

You missed the way his lips felt on yours. Soft, plump and irresistible. The way his hands slid down from your waist to grasp into the soft skin of your thighs, to pick you up and push you against the wall of the screwed up elevator.

If maybe it didn’t start working again all of the sudden, maybe you would have let him to even fuck you in that little space. 

Of course it wasn’t like the whole set of female teachers in the school you were teaching weren't turning their heads when he stopped to pick up Belle. Or didn’t talk about him between breaks.

You could hear everything. Not that you felt jealous, because you had no reason to. You never were the type to feel jealous about a person.

And he didn’t even know anything about you.

You sighed while taking off your glasses and rubbing your eyes slightly not to mess up your mascara. 

You should never feel like this about one of your student’s caregivers, but the feeling again of having him all to yourself was making you feral.

Your feet shifted uncomfortably in your heels, making you sit up from the chair and walk towards the cabinet that you had in your office.

Just then a knock was heard.

You widen your eyes before rushing back to your desk and placing your glasses back on your nose before answering.

“Come on in!” Your voice was stable as you shifted in your seat, waiting for the door to open.

As it did, you saw Hayden enter. He was dressed up casually, nothing extreme. He was wearing jeans with a white top and a leather jacket hanging on his shoulders. His hair was tousled, the soft blonde locks being enlightened by the soft light coming through the windows.

“Miss Y/N/L.” He greeted you while you smiled at him the best you could and stood up to shake hands with him.

Even his hands felt so warm and soft that the feeling sent a wave of nervousness down to your stomach.

“Sit down please.” You said while sitting back into your chair.

He sat down across from you, waiting for you to start speaking. He slightly stirred in his seat as he looked into your eyes directly. 

You cleared your throat before beginning to speak.

“First of all I’m really sorry for what happened with Belle. I don’t even know how to express how deeply I feel for her. I called you in because I needed to know if she talked with you about anything that happened, because since the incident happened I haven’t really seen her.” The calm look on his face made you feel easier to speak, because let’s be honest it’s always easier to speak with someone who can be understanding and not screaming off your head after every sentence you make.

“No.” He shook his head. “Not really. She mentioned that they were playing hide and seek and then suddenly someone cut her hair off. She didn’t see who it was because apparently that someone ran off and she didn’t feel the cut.” Hayden said while you bit the inside of your cheek.

“I would totally understand if you’d like to change schools after what happened. But I can assure you that one of the apparent groups of girls that planned to do this was expelled. I sent a letter to the ministry. So due to her earlier behavior and to this they decided that it would be the best if she got kicked out. There were still some girls there but they didn’t want to speak up.” Your lips pressed into a tight line as you watched him react to your words.

He was still calm. But you could sense the tension in the air still.

“Thank you.” He said. 

You maybe expected something better as a response, but you already got used to short replies from many parents.

“Okay well..” You stood up again. “It was nice to talk with you then.” You flashed him a smile before he stood up too.

He smirked before turning away from you.

You knitted your brows together before shaking your head and leading him to the door. 

“You don’t want to talk about it, I feel like.” He started while you looked up at his tall frame.

“Talk about what exactly?” Your eyes shined with curiosity.

“I think you know exactly what I mean, Y/N.” 

It was weird that he used your first name, no one ever did that. But from him it sounded like an angel was calling your name. Your mind wandered to thousands of different places while you felt yourself getting aroused.

You had enough for a month of acting like this towards someone you wanted to be with. You didn’t know if he felt the same, but you wanted him either way.

So with that you stepped forward and got on your tiptoes before pressing a soft kiss down on his lips.

The feeling was surreal. Like you got a taste straight out of heaven. You pulled away slightly as you saw confusion set on his face turning into need. He pressed his lips against yours now, shrugging his jacket down from his arms while picking you up with the slightest force.

You gasped a little as he grabbed into your thighs, your hands on his shoulders as you licked along his lower lip. His hands softly kneaded the skin of your inner thighs while you moaned at the feeling, making him enter his tongue into your mouth. 

You felt the edge of your desk press into your back while you reached behind yourself, knocking off a jar of pens and pencils with hundreds of paper sheets. You tried grinding your hips against him, moaning again once he squeezed your skin and laid you down on the table. 

Your hands went to his back, grasping at the fabric. His lips traced a line down from your lips to your jawline and then down to your neck.

You tilted your head backwards a little for him to have easier access. It didn’t take him long to find your sweet spot. He started licking and biting along the skin as filthy sounds left your lips.

Your office wasn’t soundproof, but you couldn’t care less when he was on top of you. You felt like exploding while his hands ran down to undo the buttons of your blouse, revealing your white lacy bra.

“Arch your back Sweetheart.” He murmured and you did so, slipping his hand up the fabric on your back while undoing your bra clip with ease.

Hm, experienced. You thought to yourself.

He pressed down hot, wet kisses down on your breasts as he tossed your bra somewhere in your office.

One of your already hardened nipples got caught by his warm mouth as he sucked on the little bud making you moan again and tilt your head back into the table.

He was playing with your other breast while you reached for his belt, brushing your hand once against his crotch before sliding the zipper down on his pants.

He let out a groan which caused a vibration to go down your spine. He pulled away from your right breasts to attack the other one, making you arch your back slightly. You could easily feel how hard he was getting with your hand in his pants already.

He then pulled away from your chest and slid your skirt off easily, showing off your panties that were barely covering anything.

“Do you wear something like this to school?” He chuckled while you rolled your eyes. 

“I don’t think there’s anyone who would look under my skirt.” You said while looking up at the ceiling.

“Surely..” He whispered before undoing his belt and getting his dick out of his underwear. You didn’t even look at him, not wanting to be freaked out or anything.

Of course you had many nights with guys other than your ex boyfriend, but since you didn’t have a good fuck for at least two years now you were aching for him to be inside of you finally.

He softly pressed two fingers against the fabric, rubbing them from your slit up to your sweet little clit. You gasped softly while closing your eyes and getting lost in the feeling. 

You then felt his head rubbing along your panties while you secure your legs along his waist.

“You sure you want this?” He asked while you leant up on your elbows, watching him. Your eyes widened at his size, gulping and looking up at him with a nod.

“Take off those panties.” He said while you smirked.

“Why don’t you take them off?” You teased.

“If I take them off I will rip them off. If you don’t want to walk around without any underwear I suggest you take them off.” His voice was dripping with desire and you rather stayed in place watching him.

He arched a brow.

“Okay Sweetheart you choose it this way.” He whispered before completely tearing the fabric away.

You gasped as the sudden wind hit your pussy, wanting to press your thighs together.

“Young thing.” He tilted his head, but before you could make a comment he pressed his pointer down where your wetness was collecting, bringing it up to your clit.

“Fuck.” You said while watching him working his finger on your sensitive bud.

He rubbed his finger along, slightly, teasing. Then he simply spat on it, smearing the drool all over while you let out a loud moan. 

“Hayden.” You reached for his hand while he pushed you down on the table, hand sneaking up to press on your chest. 

You mewled while he worked his fingers on your clit, sucking his fingers once he was done.  

“You ready?” He asked while you nodded your head frequently, squirming as you felt his warm pre-cum leaking onto your pussy.

His head slipped down to your heat, then up again, teasing your slit while smirking.

Then he pushed his tip in.

You swore you could see stars.

“Fuck Darling this pussy of yours is really tight.” He chuckled. “If I didn't know better I would think you are a virgin.” His hand went down to play with your pussy while he pushed himself entirely into you.

“Fuck.” You said in unison, your head lifted up to see where the two of you were connected.

He started rocking his hips into your slightly as you trailed your hands up to his biceps, squeezing at his flesh while he leant on top of you, holding himself up by your sides. 

You leant yourself up to kiss him, arms wrapping around his neck. 

It was a shame that you already felt your stomach tightening with that little bubble of pleasure building in your tummy.

“Fuck me.” You whispered while he kissed you, increasing his pace.

“Yeah you want me like this?” He grinned while you nodded your head, arching your back.

“Answer me Doll.” He said while wrapping one of his hands around your throat.

Your eyes were rolling back into your head as he fucked you hard against the table, making you loose all of your self confidence.

“Yes, Hayden please!” You cried while he sighed, going even faster.

“Oh my god.” He said while he looked down at you, the signs of real pleasure were all over your face.

He didn’t even need you to announce that you were already coming down on his dick because he could feel your velvety falls squeezing his hard cock.

“You want to come?” He asked while you nodded your head, moaning as he started rubbing your pussy again.

“Oh I’m coming.” You said while grabbing into his back, your finely manicured nails pressing into his skin.

“Fuck Sweetheart.” He groaned while you screamed as he fucked you through your orgasm.  

“Come inside of me.” You said suddenly breathless.

“Yes? You want to feel me?” He asked while pressing into you softly.

You squirmed. 

“Yes!” You gasped as he picked up his pace again, the overstimulation giving in again.

“I’m close.” He murmured while you looked up at his gorgeous face. His lips were parted, sounds that made you clench around his member left his mouth.

“Y/N” He sighed while you moaned at him hitting all the right spots again. 

“Oh, I’m coming.” He said one last time before you felt him coming deep inside you, hot spurts of white semen filling your insides.

He pulled out gently and pushed himself back to his briefs while you lay on your desk, catching your breath.

“Don’t worry, doll.” He chuckled. “There will be plenty time for you to do that after I’m done with you.”

[stevesgother]

Chalkboard Hearts - Pt II

Pairing - Teacher!Steve Harrington x Fem!Mom!Reader

WC - 4.3k

Contains - slow burn, strangers to friends to lovers, single motherhood, kindergarten teacher AU, school field trip, awkward bashful stevie, ONE use of y/n bc the story called for it sorry i don’t make the rules, mention of parent death

AN - here’s part two! I’m so thankful for the love and support you all showed on the first part and continue to show on all my works. It means so much that you guys enjoy my silly little delusions that i happened to turn into silly little stories!

Much love ~ emma

“Well, she’s excelling in English and reading, but struggling a bit with our math unit,” your daughter’s new kindergarten teacher informs you across a maplewood desk clad with plenty of miscellaneous trinkets; Abbey sits on a plastic chair next to you. Normally, it’s not recommended to bring your child to a parent/teacher conference, but with the cost of hiring a sitter lately, this was your only feasible option.

“That being said,” he continues optimistically, “I have plenty of practice worksheets I can send home with you, and if she’s still not getting it in a few weeks, I'm more than willing to stay after hours to work with her.”

You cringe at the idea of him working overtime for you or Abbey, even if it’s literally his job.

“That’s very generous, Mr. H, but–”

He cuts you off, speaking your name in a reassuring tone, “I promise, I’m happy to. It’s not as if I have anywhere else to be,” he chuckles, gesturing to the empty room where you sit.

He senses your hesitation but continues anyway, “Look, I’ll give you the worksheets, and check back in next week. Deal?” he’s clearly asking you, but Abbey beats you to the punch, “Can I use my crayons?”

“Obviously,” he phrases it as though he would expect nothing less.

Abbey gives a barely noticeable little pump of her fist. She’s wriggling around in her seat and you can tell she’s getting antsy with all the ‘grownup talk’. Steve rises first and sticks his hand out for you to shake and when you return the gesture, he takes your palm in both of his.

“Hey, Abbey’s doing great, seriously. You have nothing to worry about,” maybe you look anxious at the prospect of your child struggling in a subject because you somehow weren’t attentive enough, or maybe he can just read you like a book. Either way, his hands on you are dizzying.

“I appreciate that,” you offer him a tender smile as he releases you from his grasp. “What do you say, Abbey? Wanna head home?”

She immediately deflates at the question. School has been in session for barely two months, and all she can seem to talk about is her new teacher. The car rides home and dinners at the table are spent telling tales of his Star Wars impressions, or how he hangs up every picture he’s given on the corkboard behind his desk– how he lets the class have extra recess time if they behave all day long, and how he ‘never ever’ raises his voice.

You can always picture it so easily. There’s something naturally whimsical about him, and anyone can tell he was made for this career. There’s a distant fear that the infatuation Abbey seems to have with him is caused by the absence of her own father, and you wish constantly to be able to give her that– to be two parents for the price of one– but as much as she adores you, there’s always going to be a void in her life that you alone can’t fill. It makes you ache to dwell on it for too long.

“Can’t we stay just a little bit longer?” She pleads with glistening eyes.

“I’m sure Mr. H wants to get home too, Ab,” at that, her features twist into a pout.

Steve kneels in front of her, “I’m gonna see you on Monday though, right?” She tearfully nods, “Good,” he grins and gives her hair a little ruffle when he stands.

“You two have a good weekend, and drive home safe, okay?”

You send him a shy wave, “You too, Mr. H,”

As you’re making your way down the hallway towards the exit with Abbey's hand clasped tightly in yours, you hear a voice along with heavy footfall echo after you, “Wait!--”

When you turn around, Steve’s lightly jogging towards you with a flyer in his hand, “I forgot to give you this,” he pants when he catches up. He hands you a colorful paper advertising a class field trip to Spiller Farm– an orchard a few miles outside of town.

He runs a hand through his hair, mussed from a stressful day doing exactly that, “We still need a few more chaperones, I wanted to ask if you’d be able to?”

Abbey’s demeanor becomes instantly lighter as she begins tugging on your arm, “Please, mommy?!” she begs, as if she’d even have to. “Definitely! Let me double check my schedule and make sure I’m not working,” you smile kindly, “I’ll let you know on Monday when I drop her off,”

For a split second, Steve considers just giving you his number before he thinks better of it. You barely know him, for Christ’s sake. I’d look like a complete creep, He thinks.

“Y-yeah– that’s fine,” he winces at his own awkwardness, “Trip’s on Wednesday,” again feeling like a blundering idiot, as the flyer he just handed you clearly states as much.

If you notice though, you don’t mention it. You simply say,

 “See you Monday,”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Abbey seemed to be in better spirits by the time you made it home and popped a frozen pizza into the oven. You’ve always envied the rebound rate of her sour moods; maybe you should take a page out of her book.

She sits at the table playing with two perfectly groomed Barbie Dolls. Her other toys were a different story– baby doll’s with botched haircuts, stuffed animals with unidentifiable stains and the occasional hole, but her Barbies were always considered with the utmost care a five-year-old could offer.

“Mr. H says his favorite pizza is pepperoni,” she says from where she sits behind you, “is that what kind we’re having?”

“No, silly goose, you don’t like pepperoni,” you remind her, “you always say it’s too spicy,”

“Oh, okay,” she sounds indifferent; she trusts you to remember what she likes and dislikes on her behalf, sparing no room in her growing brain for such trivial facts.

“Can I have four slices?” She asks sweetly. You hum and pretend to give it some thought before bargaining, “How about I give you one slice first, and then if you’re still hungry, you can have more?”

She nods, taking the bait. You eventually make it to the table, plates in hand, and eat the greasy slices in a comfortable silence until Abbey asks,

“What kind of pizza did my daddy like?”

It’s not the first time she’s asked questions about Jeremy, and you know it won’t be the last, but your heart still sinks a little every time she does.

“Your dad liked hawaiian pizza, that was his favorite,”

“‘ha-way-en’?” she mispronounces, “what’s that?” her little features contort with confusion.

You correct her pronunciation and reply, “Well, technically It’s a state, but hawaiian pizza has ham and pineapple on it,”

Her confusion morphs to disgust and she giggles, “Ew!”

“I know,” her laughter is contagious, “I don’t like it either,” you wave your hand in front of your nose in a ‘P.U’ gesture.

Her father is no longer a topic of conversation after that. It was always like this– the questions generally mundane and inconsequential, not realizing that the images she’s conjuring are covered in cobwebs and dust; buried deep in the forgotten corners of your subconscious.

When you’re a kid, nothing holds that kind of weight. Petty things like broken toys or an early bedtime are the most of her worries and memories aren’t so burdening– yet another thing you envy of her youth.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The next few days go by without a hitch– school, ballet class and homemade dinners every night– that is until Wednesday morning when you wake up and are immediately confronted with the sun cascading through your curtains, and your alarm that's been beeping for thirty minutes longer than it normally does.

Abbey is straddling your lap and vigorously shaking your shoulders, “Mom! Mom, we have to go!” The panic you feel outweighs the embarrassment of being woken up late by your own child, and you rush to slip on a pair of jeans and the first sweater you make out on top of your hamper.

A sideways glance at the clock tells you that you have exactly three minutes to get out the door– it appears that your go-to look lately is bags under your eyes and your hair scooped up into the nearest claw clip. The trend continues today, though you’re able to dab on a little concealer while Abbey puts her boots on in the mudroom.

You’re both shocked and amazed that she’s dressed– her outfit even mostly coordinating. Unfortunately, the remains of what was supposed to be a ham and cheese sandwich are littered all over the counter. Crackers for lunch today it is.

Grabbing her mostly empty backpack, you ask, “You got everything, Ab?”

“Yep!” She shouts, mostly because she was already outside and standing in the driveway, waiting for you to unlock the car for her.

When you get to the school, several golden buses are parked in a single file line and opening their doors for dozens of children to pour in.  A little mortified, you realize you’re the last parent here, and silently pray that there’ll still be a seat for you and Abbey on the bus.

You’re searching for Steve, albeit unconsciously. You aren’t acquainted with any of the other teachers, and he’s your life raft in this sea of chaos and PTA soccer moms. You don’t have to look for very long though, before your name is being shouted from a few feet away on the tarmac. Grasping Abbey’s wrist, you shoulder your way over to where he stands waiting.

“Hey–I’m so sorry, I somehow slept through my alarm this morning,” you blush and muss Abbey’s hair, “this little gremlin woke me up, actually,”

She shakes your hand off her head, “Hey!” she frowns.         

“You’re good, promise. I saved you a seat, and Abbey,” he redirects his attention, “Clarissa B. asked to sit with you, is that okay?”

She’s too excited to bother responding, instead dashing inside in an attempt to find her friend. You hear a muffled warning of ‘no running!’, eliciting a shared laugh between the two of you.

“After you,” Steve steps back to let you in first. You spot the only available seat which is dead in the front of the bus– and when you sit down, Steve sits down next to you.

“Well, uh,” he scratches his neck nervously when you scoot to make room for him, “I saved us a seat. Is what I meant.”

“It’s okay,” you give a reassuring breath of laughter, “I don’t mind,”

“Right,” he clears his throat and you feel the bus shift gears to make its way towards the

orchard.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You’ve never been this close to Steve before and right away the space is enveloped with whatever cologne he’s wearing and the spearmint scent of the gum he’s been absentmindedly chewing. He smells of cedar and something musky; cinnamon and spice. You notice now all of the freckles and moles that form constellations over his forearms and neck.

When the silence between you becomes a little too stiff– pleasantries about the weather having subsided nearly ten minutes ago– he asks, “Have you ever been to Spiller Farm?”

“Yeah I– I have,” you say, unsure why you’re suddenly nervous, “My parents used to take me every year when I was Abbey’s age to go apple picking. Have you?”

“Oh, no,” he’s fixated on his hands folded in his lap, shaking his head, “this’ll be my first time, I actually grew up in Indiana,”

“Indianapolis?” You question curiously.

He gave a humorless laugh, “I wish. It was a uh…much smaller town,” he finally looks at you then, faces much closer than you realized in the cramped bus seat, “I came to Maine for college, liked it so much I guess I didn’t want to leave.” This time when he smiles, it looks genuine.

He clears his throat and continues, “Abbey tells me you work in a hospital– RN?

It was remarkable how much you knew about each other despite having very little conversations that didn’t surround Abbey; thanks to your oversharing kindergartener.

You wish that you could tell him you were a nurse, feeling increasingly embarrassed at your lack of a college education, but instead you reply, “Reception,” with a tight lipped smile. Having Abbey so young, and doing it alone at that, left no time for degrees or prestigious jobs.

You expect a sympathetic expression in response, maybe even distaste, but you find only sincerity etched across his features when he says, “That’s really neat, I could never do that. Hospitals they…kinda give me the heebie jeebies,”

“It’s definitely not for the faint of heart,” you agree, “I have so many crazy stories,”

“Well, I’d love to hear them sometime,” he smiles at you so tenderly that it makes you want to disintegrate and float away among the air that breezes through the open bus windows.

“Yeah, I’d like that”, you say, distracted by the hazel flecks in what you had previously thought were brown eyes. Luckily, the distinct jolt of tire on gravel bails you out of more awkward silence and before you know it, you’re filing off the bus and breathing in the scent of freshly picked apples and cow manure.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You foolishly forget that Steve isn’t just here with you and your daughter on his own accord, and does actually have to do his job of wrangling children and organizing the day's activities. He proceeds to do a headcount, looking like he means business with one hand propped on his hip and a clipboard gripped in the other.

He captures everyone’s attention with ease as he does a quick call and response gesture, ‘Clap, Clap, Clap Clap Clap,’ you’re shocked at how efficiently it works to halt their chattering.

“Good morning, everyone!” He beams and the class responds with a choir of high-pitched ‘Good Morning, Mr. H!’’s, he continues, “Alright, so, I’m going to be splitting everyone into small groups. Each parent will have about five kiddos, and I’ll just be floating around to make sure everything goes smoothly. Sound like a plan?”

Everyone agrees in a sea of nods and murmurs and the kids bounce with anticipation– hoping that they might get placed in the same group as their friends. Finally, you hear your name called and Steve pairs you with five children: your own daughter, her friend Clarissa B., a little boy named Beck, his younger sister and a timid little girl named Sophia. You breathe a sigh of relief that you hadn’t realized you were holding when it becomes obvious that all the kids you were assigned seemed to be fairly reserved and not too rowdy.

You lead your little flock over to the barn, where several farm hands are waiting to assist the children in petting the cows, pigs and other various animals. There are red buckets full of pellets that you assume is feed for the goats scattered along the ground, and you can practically feel Abbey buzzing with excitement beside you. She had been begging you for a pet practically the second after she said her first word.

Steve makes his way over to you from the rows of apple trees in the orchard section of the farm while you supervise the kids holding their tiny palms out to the ravenous livestock– slightly anxious that one of them might lose a finger.

You feel a strong hand on your shoulder, “C’mon, don’t wanna pet a dirt-covered sheep?” Steve quips when he reaches you.

“Not particularly,” you huff a laugh, “I was never really a ‘farm animal’ person. I think a dog would suit me just fine,”

“Do you have one?”

“Oh, no. Abbey’s been asking me for one since she was, like, two? I think? I just don’t have the time, you know?”

“Believe me, I get it.” He seems pensive when he responds, looking out over the expanse of the farm, “I never had a pet growing up, either,”

Before you have the chance to express your remorse, Abbey calls, “Mommy, look! Come pet the goat!”

“Be right there!” You call back with thinly veiled reluctance.

“You heard the girl,” Steve pats your shoulder where his hand had been as if to say ‘Go on’. He has an amused if not smug expression when you turn to face him.

“Why don’t you go pet the goat, Mr. H,”

“Hey, she asked for you! Don’t shoot the messenger,” He laughs, “Don’t worry, I'll take over supervising for a minute,” he sends you a wink and it makes your stomach drop, just a bit, like when you miss a step on a staircase but catch yourself just before you fall.

A similar feeling strikes you when you actually do fall, slipping on a particularly slick patch of mud and landing flat on your back. It temporarily knocks the wind out of you, but the sensation is quickly replaced by a white hot embarrassment. Steve’s at your side in an instant, albeit poorly concealing a laugh, “Oh my God, are you okay?” he asks, a little bewildered as he kneels down to help you up and getting his own jeans muddy in the process. Thankfully, he doesn’t seem to mind.

You groan, out of discomfort or humiliation, you’re not sure. He wraps two calloused hands around your biceps and hoists you up with a surprising amount of strength. By the time you’re on your feet again, Abbey’s also rushing towards you.

“Mommy, you have mud on your butt,” she giggles. Always Captain Obvious, your daughter.

“Thanks baby, I see that,”

She’s trying to shrug off her jacket to tie around your waist, even if she finds your current predicament rather amusing, but you stop her before she can get very far, “Keep it, Ab, it’s chilly out. I’m okay,” you falsely promise.

“Here, you can have mine,” Steve takes his windbreaker off to hand to you.

“Oh– you don’t have to do that, Steve,” feeling guilty that he’s even offering, “I’ll get mud all over it– and won’t you be cold?”

“Nah,” he shrugs nonchalantly, “I run warm, plus I hear they just came out with these cool things that clean your clothes for you when they get dirty– washing machines I think they’re called?”

You playfully smack his arm and he smirks, “Don’t get smart, Harrington,” taking the jacket from him nonetheless, “Thank you. I’ll wash it for you tonight,”

He shoves his hands in his pockets after you take the garment, unsure what to do with them now that they’re empty, “Don’t mention it,” and there's that damned smile again.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You promised Abbey yesterday that you could pick a bag of apples to make a pie together, so once everyone is satisfied with the time spent at the barn, you all make your way to the dozens of rows of trees, adorned with fresh, bright red fruit for plucking.

“What kind of apples do you think, Ab?” you look down to ask her, “They have Gala, Empire, Granny Smith,” you read off the signs marking each aisle.

“Whichever is the most juicy!”

“That would probably be HoneyCrisp, those are over this way, I think,” you say, putting a hand on her shoulder to guide her in the right direction.

Abbey does more eating than picking, leaving you with all the heavy lifting, despite the numerous ‘No Eating’ signs. You just can’t bring yourself to stop her– not when she looks at you with so much unbridled joy. Eating the apples straight off the tree had always been your favorite part, too.

A row over from the one you were in, you watch as Steve lifts another student onto his shoulders so he can pick the specific apple he was jumping for, and you have to fight the corners of your lips from quirking up into a smile.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

There was a small wooden cabin near the gravel parking lot that doubled as a gift shop, and the shelves were stocked full of handmade knick knacks, glass bottles of maple syrup, and all sorts of treats. It smelled wonderfully of freshly baked fritters and cinnamon.

“Can I get this candy apple, mom?”

“I don’t know, baby, we have to make sure it doesn’t have any peanuts,”

Petulant whining follows before a cheerful, silvery voice declares, “Don’t worry, dear, It doesn’t.” When you turn to find the source, you’re met with an older, stout woman with grey hair adorned in a bandana– the owner, you presume.

“Can I, mommy?”

“Alright, okay. Put it on the counter with the bag of apples,”

She makes a beeline to the wooden counter, barely able to reach over the top as she slams the treat down, sporting a toothy grin.

“Thank you–” you search for her nametag but find nothing.

She fills in the blank for you, “Dorothy,” her lips wobble just a little when she smiles, face wrinkling from decades of laughter and grinning.

“Any time, honey. You two take care now,” she says when she finishes checking out your items. She wags a finger at Abbey, “You be good for your momma, missy,”

“Yes ma’am,” Abbey replies politely.

She skips in front of you contentedly, apple in hand, out of the shop and towards the rest of the waiting students.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Back on the bus, Abbey naps against your chest despite being slightly too big and the candy apple she begged you for is now getting stuck to your sleeve, but you don’t dare disturb her. Steve sits beside you again and this time the silence is much more tolerable; both of you exhausted from a day of governing twenty children, give or take.

“Abbey, uhm, told me about her dad,” he says timidly, nervous that the subject might cross a boundary, “I wanted to offer my condolences.”

You’d already resigned yourself to the fact that you’d have this conversation eventually– especially with Abbey being school aged now.

“I appreciate that,” you reassure, “It was a long time ago, I don’t think Abbey even remembers anything about him.” You realize in real time that this is the reason her questioning of her father has increased in the past few weeks.

He nods and pauses before he continues; contemplating, “Can I ask what happened?”

You turn only your head to look at him and he clarifies, “Abbey only said he ‘went to heaven’,”

“He, uh– car accident.” you answer simply, returning your gaze back to the crown of Abbey’s head resting peacefully on your chest, “She was just about a year old,”

The expression twisting his features urges you to reiterate that you’re okay– you’re both okay. You’ve had nearly six years to reconcile the loss of Jeremy; you’ve mourned, you’ve grieved and you’ve placed his memory tight in a sector of your heart that was designated just for him. But you didn’t want the pity anymore– you didn’t want to be the widow.

He seems to comprehend this despite you having said very little, and decides to drop the topic for now.

“She talks about you all the time, you know.” You nudge him gently with your shoulder and he becomes suddenly shy– a slight blush tinting his cheeks.

“She talks about you all the time,” he counters, “just goes on and on about how her mom makes the best boxed mac and cheese, and always plays make believe with her– even when she says she’s tired.”

You feel the sting of unwanted tears welling behind your eyes, “Well, I–”

“--You do the best you can, and you don’t give yourself nearly enough credit,” he interrupts before you have the chance to discount yourself, “You’re a great mom, Y/N.”

One of the aforementioned tears breaches the edge of your lash line and falls rapidly down our cheek, dropping onto the soft cushion of Abbey’s hair. When the bus abruptly stops, you wipe your face quickly and smear the salty trail it left in its wake.

You harshly clear your throat, “Thanks, Steve,”

“You do that a lot,”

“I feel it a lot.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Back at home, you set Abbey up in front of the television and peel your mud stained jeans off to throw them immediately in the wash, along with Steve’s jacket; not bothering with the hamper.

Once you’ve taken a quick shower to rinse the remaining crusted dirt off your thighs, you make your way back into the dimly lit living room to find Abbey asleep, once again, with her knees tucked into her chest, and the technicolor screen illuminating her features in tones of muted blue.

You strain your back to pick her up, but it’ll be worth it when she’s no longer small enough to carry bridal style into her all pink bedroom, and set atop her princess sheets. You’re thankful to have gotten her into her pajamas already– foreseeing this would happen.

There’s a dull longing in the center of your chest as you kiss her forehead and tuck the comforter up to her chin. It’s that same tug you felt after Jeremy died, when you realized you’d be putting your daughter to bed alone from that point on. It festered and grew until one day it became so routine that you didn’t remember what it felt like to have your partner there next to you, and then it dissipated completely.

Until tonight.

Except for this time the longing wasn’t for Jeremy. It wasn’t even for that ‘perfect man’ you’d sometimes conjure up in your mind’s eye just before you fell asleep at night.

It was for someone new.

divider credit to @/strangergraphics

tag list - @micheledawn1975 @cherryc1nnam0n @paleidiot @adaydreamaway30 @twinkling-moonlillie @royalestrellas @cali-888 @jamdoughnutmagician @kolsmikaelson @soulxiez @sadieshairbrush @the-witty-pen-name @ilovetaquitosmmmm @mrsnarnian

[wheneclipsefalls]

Little Gift- Tremble

Pairing: Soft Dark Neteyam x Fem Human Reader

Little Gift Masterlist

Beautiful adult Neteyam pic by @cinetrix2

Summary: This is your last chance to run.

Warnings: aged up Neteyam, NSFW minors do not interact, dark Neteyam, NONCON/DUBCON, spanking, dirty talk, punishment, size difference, etc.

A/N: This one took a little longer than intended with all the life stuff going on, but yay it's here. Also, migt have gotten a little carried away with this part.

The outpost feels like a relic of a different time. One that you have only heard of in stories, but now seeing those worn down bunk beds and the corner of a room that Spider calls his own, it doesn’t feel as glorious. The worst part, however, is how naked you feel around other humans. It’s only a slight comfort that Spider is wearing Na’vi apparel too. 

“Oh and yeah and this is a spear I made in Awalatuu.” Spider says. “But maybe let’s move it out of the way.” He gives an awkward chuckle but it’s obvious that his only concern is you suddenly deciding to use it against him. 

Your arrival at the outpost had been anything but graceful. In hindsight you would have preferred to meet these people face to face instead of over Neteyam’s shoulder. 

“If you want we can uh….watch a movie. Oh yeah I bet I could swipe Norm’s Star Wars collection.” 

You don’t return the smile he gives you, too busy awkwardly sitting on his bed while pouting. You never thought it would feel strange to be back in a place like this but after being around the Na’vi for the past week, the outpost feels like walking into a rundown dollhouse. Everything is your size and nothing is as beautifully crafted as Neteyam’s kelku. 

The awkward silence is slightly painful but you can’t find it within yourself to feel bad for Spider. Not when he hasn’t shown even a morsel of sympathy for your situation. Your own kind and not even they find it important to get you out of here. Not that they could anyways. No doubt Neteyam would view such actions as a betrayal. 

“He wouldn’t let you come along, huh?” You finally ask. 

Spider stops digging through the worn down hard drives. 

“Who?” 

“Neteyam. Didn’t want you coming to see the RDA off either?” 

Spider scoffs at the, leaving the tech behind to cross the small room. 

“I wouldn’t say that. I’m not the one he’s worried about getting into trouble.” 

Spider may not have heightened senses like the Na’vi but you worry that he sees the way your hands ball around the thin blankets.

“So Lo’ak handed the role of babysitter off to you somehow.” You lean back against the cold wall, trying to appear bored by the conversation. 

“Just for today. He was clear that I would only be a substitute.” 

Your brows furrow at that. Maybe Lo’ak doesn’t mind watching over you as much as he lets on. Then again Lo’ak never fails to find your company amusing, and for all the wrong reasons. Some days you wonder if Neteyam would really be cross with you for slapping his brother across the face. Maybe if you batted your lashes and played it off as self defense….

“Well I’m sorry you can’t be there.” 

It’s Spider’s turn to look confused. 

“Why?” 

“Colonel Quaritch is your dad, isn’t he?” 

“That asshole is nothing close to a father.” Spider’s jaw clenches, posturing already shifting to loom over you. He may be human but his six foot frame of striped muscle greatly outweighs your own. 

“Oh trust me, I know. Quaritch has been nothing but a tyrant my entire life. I honestly don’t know how he managed to get back into General Ardmore’s good graces after half the stunts he has pulled. That’s why I was excited for today. Finally see that bastard put in his place.” Spider watches you closely. In some ways it feels like all he is missing he ears and tail of a Na’vi.

“Thought maybe you would want to see that too.” 

You know a good deal about Spider Soccoro. He is a story that is often shared among the recombinants but never in Quaritch’s presence. Many tales have been told of the feral stripped boy that was more trouble than worth. You wonder if the stories would have been different if he hadn’t chosen the Sullys in the end. Still, even with their biased filters you know that they put Spider through hell. 

Kidnapping is traumatic enough without having to watch islands burn and friends cry for justice. 

“I don’t care what happens to that bastard.” Spider huffs before promptly turning around and fishing through the hard drives once more. You’ve killed the already strained mood. 

“Well then you’re a better person than me. Good for you.” Spider doesn’t answer but you can tell he is listening. 

A bitter laugh escapes you. “Hell, I’ve only had to put up with him from a distance and I would ring his neck myself if given the chance.” 

Spider’s fingers fiddle with a blue hard drive, eyes staring down thoughtfully. 

“But I guess I should trust Neteyam to give him what he deserves. Watch that monster tuck his tail and accept his failure for what it is.”  It’s the one cause you consider Neteyam and yourself on the same side of. 

Leaning back, you prop your feet up onto the creaky mattress. 

“Yeah.” He says shortly. 

“Ugh don’t get me started on Lyle though-”

“What are you trying to do?” Spider springs to his feet, glaring daggers down at you. 

“What do-”

“Do you think I’m really that stupid? Neteyam told me you would do this. Trying to spin a story that would allow you to escape.” 

You swallow the lump in your throat. You’re startled by the outburst to say the least but at this point there is nothing to lose. This man you only met fifteen minutes ago is the difference between spending the rest of your days here and returning back to Earth. Neteyam’s punishments are far from being enough to deter you from taking this chance. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t trying to-”

“Would it kill you to just stay out of trouble for this one day? For my sake?” The look he gives you is anything but tender in comparison to his words. 

The bitter taste of impending failure is already settling in. You can already feel the immense weight of this dread and it springs you into action. This can’t be the end. 

It won’t be. 

“Can you really blame me though? For wanting to say goodbye to everything and everyone I have ever known?” 

Spider goes quiet, hazel eyes suddenly avoiding your own gaze. 

“Believe whatever you want but the fact is this day will never repeat. This is literal history and…” You voice quivers, blunt teeth sinking into your bottom lip in restraint. The last barrier to holding the words back. “The last glimpse at my old life.” 

You don’t allow the gravity of those whispered words to plant themselves. This is all a ruse after all. Just enough sadness to get Spider to cooperate and yet saying it out loud feels like tying an anchor to your ankle. Truly realizing how stuck you may be from here on out. 

Spider doesn’t say anything for a long while. Neither of you look at each other, letting the silence sizzle between you. 

And then finally….

“We have to be quick.”

“And no touching anything. I mean it, shit out here can be extremely poisonous.” Spider rattles on, listing yet another rule to follow as the two of you venture through the thick terrain. You roll your eyes. You may not be a match for the creatures of Pandora physically but you’ve studied enough to understand what to stay away from.

“We’re there for five minutes tops, got it?” Spider says as he pushes a hanging branch out of your path. 

“Yes sir.” You salute him playfully. Now that you are less than a mile away from Bridgehead a certain giddiness begins to take over. It swirls together with your nerves and apprehension but it doesn’t deter you. This is the closest you have been to freedom in a week. 

Eywa’s mightiest creatures could not keep you from your goal. 

Years down the road when you wake up from kyro this will all be some awful dream that embeds itself into your revenge arch. Starting with Miles Quaritch of course. 

“I’m being serious. Neteyam will kill me if he sees you out here. I’m sticking my neck out for you.” 

“It will be worth it.” You say simply, a skip in your step when you recognize the familiar path that leads back to Bridgehead. This the same one you had carved deeper with every trip you had taken to your oasis. Looking back there is nothing more you regret but the sight of it still makes you smile. 

Spider never stops his stern rambling. Despite the fact that he is built like a Greek God, his speeches do little to intimidate you. Not when you’re used to nine feet of solid muscle and sharp canines. 

There is a bank that overhangs Bridgehead. A spot that Spider deems the perfect lookout for the two of you. You consider trying to convince him to get the two of you closer. After all, what good is a farewell that can’t be heard? Truth is, there really aren’t many people you would bother trying to say goodbye to. Jeremy moved on from you months ago, you have very little friends outside of that and what little you did have can be nothing but traitors by letting you get offered up without complaint. 

It feels like a risky move, however. Spider is sure to catch wind of your deception at the first hints of you disobeying.

“Here,” Spider mutters, suddenly pulling your arm so you stand directly in front of him. This leaves you sandwiched between the cliff’s edge and Spider’s tall frame. 

“Hey!” You snip at him, ripping your arm from his hold. 

“This way I can keep a close eye on you.” He smirks, hands resting confidently on his hips because he knows as well as you that his physical prowess greatly outweighs your own. It’s clear his trust is far from being earned. 

“Well do you have to breathe down my neck? Christ! I could use some space.” 

“No chance.” Spider responds shortly but his eyes are already scanning the crowd of RDA members below. 

“Neteyam doesn’t really take kindly to others sniffing around me.” 

You hate to play that card but it seems to be the only one you have in your deck and if you have any chance of getting out of here, Spider can’t be pressed up against you. A harsh glare is thrown down at you but with knitted brows and a fierce frown, the male takes a few steps back. It isn’t much, surely his presence will still be your first obstacle, but it’s a start. 

Every minute that passes by feels like torture. You watch as palettes of heavy equipment and artillery are rolled along the concrete with Na’vi supervising. Each one packed away is a signal of passing time, another stream of sand that falls through your hourglass of opportunity. The real nerves, however, kick in when the line of RDA members are escorted onto the ship. 

How long is it going to take them to load everyone?

How long until your hopes are dashed?

You spot Neteyam taking his place at the head. He is dressed up in his traditional Olo’eyktan gear completely with a feathered mantle and oval forehead jewelry, but this time he holds a gun. He holds it with confidence, finger strategically placed over the barrel and ready to strike at a moment’s notice. His golden eyes spark today like fire. Even from your lookout spot from above, you can feel that darting heat. 

You pray that they never fall on you again. 

Spider shifts over your shoulder suddenly, blonde dreads ticking your neck. You scramble out of his space but instead of jerking you into place as you expect, he takes your spot at the front. Brows knitting together, you watch him carefully as he crawls forward. 

Finally you spot what has captured his undivided attention. 

Colonel Miles Quaritch sternly leads his band of mutants through the crowd. They tower so high over the rest of the Sky People the sight is almost comedic. However, Spider is doing anything but laughing. His mask fogs up as he watches the scene with intensity. 

It’s like he is dead to the world, eyes trained on the man that has been anything but a father to him. 

You expect him to cheer, snarl, anything that shouts of victory. It was promises of seeing karma after all that had bought you this outing but Spider is silent and still. And then there is something else that flashes over his demeanor, a pang of emotion that is hard for you to place. 

Pain?

Hatred? 

Guilt? 

This swirl of tangled feelings is confusing.

Perhaps there is still so much more to learn about Spider Socorro. 

Regardless, this is your chance and you plan to take it. Tension bleeding into the moment you watch Spider diligently while beginning to back away. It feels as if the world’s ambience has been muffled into background noise and the only sound breaking through is the obnoxious puff of each breath through your mask. Neteyam hadn’t given you the serum shot this morning, assuming you would be spending the whole day in the outpost. Now, however, you wish he had. 

Spider is so enveloped in the moment, however, that he gives no recognition of the sound or even branch you clumsily snap when backing down from the cliff’s edge. 

There is no telling how long this trance will last or at what point you will be out of ear shot so you risk it all. 

Bare feet tingling in protest, you race across the forest floor. There’s no sign of an easy and stealthy way down into Bridgehead. Going back down your normal path would risk Spider spotting you race by. That’s not an option but neither is falling to your death. On the east side the cliff shallows out into a grassy hill. If you’re lucky enough you might just be able to creep down it and remain hidden beneath the heavy greenery. 

Upon reaching it, however, you step on loose dirt and the world rapidly spins around you. With neither a hint of grace or stealth you clumsily roll down the hill. Your muscles ache by the time you clunk to the bottom and you’re sure there are other injuries to be found. Adrenaline dulling the pain and panic, you dart to hide in the nearest bush instantly. 

The scene is so much louder now that you are up close. Heavy trucks make blaring beeping sounds while reversing and Na’vi freely let out loose cries of victory and foreign threats. The commotion is just enough to have your presence remain undetected. 

You don’t bank on that lasting for long though.

Your scanty traditional Na’vi attire is sure to draw attention. You need different clothes and you need it fast. Scaling around the outskirts of the chaos, you miraculously manage to make it to that familiar run down door. Sector two-your building. 

Paranoia constantly scraping at your attention, you barely let the room equalize before ripping your mask off. These hallways feel so different than you remember them. Perhaps it is the feel of the metal floors beneath bare feet or the lacking furniture and crowd. It sends a chill up your spine as you sprint towards your room. 

How much time do you have?

They can’t have loaded more than half of the crew by now.

And yet, the sight of deserted halls makes your feet slap against the floor faster. 

Get dressed. Immerse yourself in the crowd. Hide until take off is through and then find a kyro capsule.

You mentally check through this list. 

Piece of cake. 

Maybe saying it out loud would make it sound less like a fool’s hope. 

Fuck it. The odds don’t matter and neither do your nerves. This is a necessity, pure survival and that will be enough to keep you going. It will because it has to. 

Your feet slip across the laminated floor when you frantically scramble to go back the way you came. Two tall and ominous shadows wrap from around the opposite corner and you are afforded just enough time to dart behind a wall before Lyle and Z Dawg appear. 

“You’re an idiot.” She says. 

“Yeah yeah say whatever you want but don’t pretend like you wouldn’t rip someone in half for a Big Mac right now.” Lyle defends himself, their shadows now paint the dimly lit corridor, stretching closer and closer to your tucked away spot.

You could run, but these are recombinants. They would pick up the sound of your footsteps in an instant. The wind from your sprint would carry your scent. 

“Sure, but I asked what your first meal back on Earth would be, not what your guilty pleasure fast food order is.” 

“These savages can keep their overgrown weeded garden of a planet. I want some fucking chicken nuggets!” 

As their voices become louder it appears that running will be your only choice after all. 

“I don’t even know why I ask at this point.” She sighs and a short hiss echoes down the hallway. 

You swallow the lump in your throat, feet repositioning as you prepare yourself to run. If you were smart you would have already been halfway down the hallway at this point but some part of you refuses to move. It clings to hope foolishly. 

“Well I’m sure-”

“Shut up asshole. The comm.” Z Dawg hisses and they both turn silent, no doubt listening to the orders on the other end. 

Your hands are shaking now, that tremor traveling up your shoulders as you await their response. 

“Copy that.” Lyle says and then the sound of heavy boots recedes into the distance. 

You can hardly believe your luck. 

That dark cloud of dread ripples away and hope takes its place once more. Maybe you can pull this off after all. 

Your room is exactly as you left it. No one has bothered to pack up any of your things or even dispose of your half folded laundry. This tiny corner of a shared living space has been your own for your whole life, everything you have known. It feels so small now. 

Rifling through the laundry basket you find a loose green tee and a pair of  tan shorts. You originally had a whole outfit planned for this day, something comfortable but nice. Those garments are, however, still crumpled up on the ground. This will have to do. 

As you hastily slip them over the beaded jewelry and tewng you pray to whatever god will listen that this will be enough to keep you incognito. You are barely finished buttoning up the shorts when heavy footsteps ring down the hallway. 

Their echo is soft, no doubt still several halls away but they are progressively getting louder. Now is not the time to take any more risks. This room is tiny and already cramped with scattered junk. Hiding under your bed would not only be idiotic but near impossible with the way your creaky bed  swoopes so low to the ground. There is, however, an old built-in cabinet above that you’ve used to hold your clothes. 

It’s just barely big enough for you to squeeze into so with those footsteps getting louder and your own terror sky rocketing, you push everything out of it and shove your body into the metal space. The door has metal slots with just enough slant to allow your visual through it. 

Your clammy right hand presses over your mouth when the door to the room creaks open.

Neteyam strolls in leisurely, eyes sweeping over the cramped space with interest. With wide eyes and strangled lungs, you watch him prowl through the area slowly. He bends down to run his fingers over the rumbled sheets, the back of his hand lingers over your pillow case. 

He takes his time looking through the various knick knacks and cords littering your night stand. He doesn’t hesitate to ball the old picture of Jeremy into his fists. Its remains are tossed to the side without care. 

Did he toss the real Jeremy like that?

You make a vow to find him as soon as you make it on board. 

Assuming Neteyam hasn’t already hunted him down. 

You could look for whatever is left of Jeremy.

You can’t think about that now, though. Not as your heart is pounding against your ribs like a bird trying to escape a cage. Not when Neteyam lifts his mask for a sip of air as he plays with your tiny music box. 

He is gentle with all of your belongings, roaming through the area like a man that doesn’t have hundreds of Sky People to threaten off of his planet. Surely, he will have to leave soon. He’s just here out of curiosity, more of his stalker tendencies pushing him to invade your space. 

The music box looks like a Christmas ornament in his palm and you worry that he will accidently crush it. It was a pain in the ass to get and a possession you have always treasured because of that. Neteyam’s ears push forward when he finally figures out how to start the music and that delicate ballerina begins to twirl. 

“Maybe it’s all of your silly trinkets.” He breaks the silence, you startle slightly. He can’t be talking to you, you remind yourself. Neteyam thinks he is alone, just nosing through your old room as he thinks out loud. “Is that what you miss so much? What has you running off and acting naughty, little gift?” 

He’s bluffing. There is no way he could know you are here. Your scent has to be strong in the room but that’s to be expected since this was your living space. Ironically this should be the perfect place to hide away. 

“You know,” He starts, carefully placing the music box back down. “I was planning on letting you bring some of these funny things back to our kelku once you start behaving. A little incentive to be my good girl.” 

The knot in your throat is near impossible to gulp down and when you do, his ears twitch. You don’t want to believe it. How did he find you? You tug your legs closer to your chest as if you can contort yourself into a small enough ball that will magically disappear. 

“But it’s obvious now that you respond better to retribution than reward.” 

It’s a miracle that your lip doesn’t split from how hard your teeth press into it. Neteyam may not be able to track your scent here but the smell of blood would be a dead giveaway. All signs point to being caught but you aren’t ready to hand over the last shreds of hope yet. Neteyam doesn’t know about the cabinet. He’s bluffing about knowing you are here. No one has seen you. 

“We can revisit the idea of a reward system later, pet.” 

The muscles in your legs are cramping beyond relief, begging you to stretch out. You don’t heed these discomforts, too paralyzed by the proximity of your captor. Neteyam on the other hand appears deceivingly content and relaxed, rummaging through your things as if he has all the time in the world. 

He carefully opens your nightstand drawer and those hairless eyebrows raise immediately. The bras are tossed to the side with the same care as the picture but then tiny little lace fabric hangs from his fingers. It’s far from your greatest problem but your cheeks heat anyways when he carefully observes your light purple panties. 

Out of all the drawers to open it seems that Neteyam knows just the one to torment you with. 

“Then again,” The Olo’eyktan smirks. “These are quite cute.” And this time instead of inhaling from the respirator he soaks in the scent from the small fabric instead. Your thighs clench together. 

“Wouldn’t mind having my little tawtute model these for me.” He hums, while pulling out several more pairs. He tucks them away safely in a small pouch attached to his loincloth. “That is, once I finally get rid of this rebellious streak of yours.” 

You allow yourself a small sigh when Neteyam goes around to the other side of the bed, just enough distance for you to breathe properly. 

��Time to come out, little gift.” He squats down onto his haunches, prowling across the floor like a predator on track. He must be searching for you and if that is true then you may still have a chance yet. Neteyam may think you are in here but he doesn’t know where exactly. 

Thoughts race through your mind at a thousand miles per minute. They twist and twirl to find some way that you could get out of this situation unscathed. The doorway is visible through the slanted slits of the cupboard. With the proper footing you may be able to close that distance with a courageous leap. And maybe, just maybe that would be enough to catch Neteyam off guard and give you a head start. 

You make one fatal mistake, however. 

If there is one thing a good prey knows to do, it is to keep sight of their predator at all times. 

Your feet don’t even get the chance to hit the ground, instead dangling and thrashing once you are caught with a strong hold around your waist. Hoping is waning but disappointment sprouts into increased vigor as your nails digging into his arms and legs struggle to kick back at him. 

“YOU MOTHERFUCK-” Your cursing slings into a shriek when Neteyam grabs a fistful of your hair and uses it to strongly crane your head backwards. His golden eyes are dilated until only a thin rim of molten gold is visible. The weight of his angry gaze takes your breath away. 

“Enough.” He enunciates the word, like a drawn sword ready to slash. “Listen closely, pet.” The lump in your throat goes down with a strained gulp. “There is not an inch of this Sky Demon hell hole or corner of this planet that you can run to without being drawn back to me. You are mine and I’ve done well to mark my property.” The fingers intertwined in your hair tickle over the back of your neck, no doubt leaving the trail of his scent behind. “You reek of me.” 

Tears gather at the corner of your eyes and you flutter them closed to avoid his burning attention. 

“As you should.” His voice rumbles as nothing more than a growl against the nape of your neck. 

“I never asked for this!” Your fighting dimms down to nothing more than squirming as gritting the choked words out sucks your energy away. Before you can do anything to stop it, tears blaze trails down your cheeks. “Just let me go! Please!” 

“Quiet, pet.” 

Another yank to your hair and the words die on your lips. It’s clear now that the time for fun and games is over. Neteyam wastes no time in throwing you onto the creaky mattress and covering your body with his own until he becomes a shadow blocking out the fluorescent light above. His thighs straddle your waist, putting just enough weight down to keep you in place. 

“No more tears.” He sighs, with down turned lips, but doesn’t pause his bunching of your tee shirt. “It’s clear I’ve been spoiling you too much.” 

A broken grasp is pulled from your throat when he easily tears the shirt straight down the middle. You’re not sure what you are trying to accomplish as you swat at his working hands. The shirt was neither your favorite nor of great importance but you still try to stop the onslaught of ripping. 

Confused and overwhelmed you squirm as he rips it into wide ribbons of fabric and then without warning you are flipped onto your stomach. You scramble to crawl away but Neteyam’s plants a foot on your ass and that is unfortunately all it takes to pin you down. Your hands are snatched next, forced together behind your back as the ripped stripes of your own shirt are used as makeshift rope to tie your wrists together. 

Something about him using your own personal clothing to keep you bound for him has your legs kicking out fiercely. It won’t do much damage even if you manage to hit him, but there needs to be an outlet for your anger. You need to feel like there is still some wreckage for you to inflict. The last tiny shred of power that you cling to for dear life. 

Neteyam isn’t in the mood to put up with your outbursts. Much like a fresh kill from his hunting trips he keeps you pinned and makes quick work of binding you imobile. The action is so well rehearsed and instinctual in fact that he already moves on to his next task of destroying your shorts. 

Shrieks and small clawing fingers are simply background ambience for the Olo’eyktan as he works. Surprisingly the small tawtute sized Na’vi clothing is not exempt from the male’s destructive hands. They too become nothing more than rolling beads and scraps of fabric falling to the floor. 

Your string of bloody curses are only temporarily interrupted by your own gasp when Neteyam takes a seat on the bed and throws you over his knee in one swift move. Kicking is no longer an option for your rage when he swings one leg over both of yours. Blood rushes to your head but even dizziness can’t stop your violent outrage. 

However, it appears a cracking smack to your upturned ass can. 

The pain doesn’t ripple forward until a few moments after your shock has subsided. Neteyam has always had creative ways of punishing you but this is different. You’d figured that he would never lay a hand on you after all that he has droned on and on about how important it is to protect a fragile thing like you. 

But another hit accompanies the first and this time you can’t hold back your small squeak. 

“Just as I thought.” He spanks you again, his hand mercilessly hitting both cheeks with every strike. “You’ve been practically begging for a firmer hand.” The cry that the next rapid three slaps pull from you is one that you don’t recognize. 

“Pretty little things like you still struggle to remember their place.” 

“Stop! Stop!” You shriek, trapped legs still fruitlessly sprawling for escape. 

“Don’t worry, little gift.” He squeezes one of your pink cheeks after this last spank. “That’s what I am here for. I won’t let your silly little tawtute tendencies keep you away from me.” 

It doesn’t take long for the color of your backside to match your face as the blood drains to your head. Neteyam is persistent, hardly batting an eye at your cries and shrieks. From cursing to death threats, none of your spewed venom makes him flinch. If anything you manage to catch his small smirk when you twist to glare up at him. You don’t make that mistake again when you find this behavior only rewards you with condescending coos from the Na’vi. 

“That’s a good girl. Let all those nasty words go.” He purrs, heavy hand never letting up on your poor bottom. 

It’s this praise that has your mouth clamping shut. You hold back any and every sound you can as your ass takes a beating. Which is not a lot when the Na’vi male has unfathomable strength and your backside already feels like flames could erupt from it at any moment. 

“Oh pet, I’ve hardly even touched you and you’re already blushing so pretty for me.” Neteyam hums in delight, hand roaming over your burning ass like an art piece just waiting to be admired properly. 

Hardly even touched you?

Is this just his way of being an ass or are you truly that far from the finish line?

You jolt when one finger slips between the crack of your cheeks, teasing over your hole gently. A sound caught between a scream and whimper erupts from you without thought. Bound hands flatten and flail to cover the untouched area but Neteyam simply chuckles and lets his own hand retreat. 

“Mawey, tiyawn.” Neteyam pats your backside softly, almost in a casual reassuring manner. “Another day.” 

It’s hard to say what is more humiliating. Being bound and turned over the Olo’eyktan’s knee like a naughty child or the wetness trickling from your pussy at the feel of his teasing fingers in a place you’ve never dared let anyone else explore before. 

Pain is a great distraction from your humiliation. So much so that it eventually motivates you to dash pride to the side and begin your pleading. 

“A-ah Neteyam! I’m sorry! I’m sorry…eh-ah I-I’ll be good!” It’s not even clear what you are trying to say anymore. Your mouth runs on autopilot, throwing out any line of remorse in hopes of one doing the job. “I ngh-ah didn’t mean to! I won’t run! Can’t take anymo- ah! Neteyam!” 

He reigns his hits to warm the underside of your thighs too, moving between that vulnerable area and your ass in such an erratic way that it is impossible to anticipate where the next will land. 

Plea after plea is thrown out but resembles nothing more than garbled desperation, nothing that can pass as a full sentence.

However, one call catches his attention.

“Olo’eyktan please!” 

The sound of slapping skin stops. 

Tears continue to plunge down your cheeks even without the constant spanking, your ass burns and tingles in shock. The tuft of his tail poruses over your naked thighs, sending a sensation both painful and ticklish. 

“Repeat, pet.” 

“Wha-what?” You stammer, voice thick with tears. 

“What did you say?” That large hand comes down once more like a crack of lightning. 

“AH! Olo’eyktan O-Olo’eyktan please please please. No more no more!” 

He smooths over your knotted hair, pushing it away from your sweaty temple and tear stained face. It’s tempting to look away from his soft gaze but intuition tells you to let him see the trembling state he has left you in. Let him witness how pitiful and distraught a simple spanking has made you be. 

“I….I’m sorry, Olo’eyktan.” 

Neteyam smiles like one would at a lover, a tender pride lacing his lips. 

“You’re learning, pet.”

Putting batteries in that small remote was a mistake. A ridiculous useless mistake that now leaves you standing on shaky legs. The pink vibrator that has resided in your nightstand drawer dutifully on hand for years is now the source of your torment. 

Well, maybe not the source per say. 

No, the true origin of this humiliation stares back at you with knowing eyes and swatting tail, his large hand making that tiny remote look like a children’s toy. The vibrator buzzes inside of you on the lowest setting, but that relief can only last for so long with the way Neteyam enjoys jumping between the different levels. 

Every last shredded piece of your Na’vi and human clothing lays back on the floor of your old bedroom. The only savior of your decency is Neteyam’s cloak that he had thrown around your shoulders. With the size difference this cloak acts more like a dress and therefore gives you more coverage than you’ve had in a week yet somehow leaves you feeling more vulnerable than ever before. Trembling fingers never stray from the seams of the cloak, keeping it wrapped around you tightly as the crowds of humans and Na’vi continue to pass you. 

Neteyam has left you with one of the other Na’vi warriors but never out of his sight. It’s a miracle that your hands were cut loose in the first place but perhaps that is another sick joke the Olo’eyktan plays on you. He knows that you won’t run. He knows you can’t run. His attention and promised consequences for misbehavior are more than enough to keep you tucked in his pocket. 

That and of course his control over the rippling vibrations that torture your pussy. 

The nearest warrior is sure to be noticing your frazzled state by now. At least he has the decency to hide his interest, unlike another Na’vi that watched from the sidelines. Lo’ak, leaned against one of the hoverships like it’s a random Tuesday afternoon, watches with a small smirk and perked ears. If Neteyam notices, he doesn’t seem to have a problem with it because Lo’ak is left unbothered in his ogling. 

The tempo increases, the vibrator now picking a pattern of random pulses that bash against your sweet spot. Bottom lip bleeding now from your biting, it’s a struggle to keep your moans at bay. With the heavy machinery moving and hundreds of Na’vi and humans passing surely there must be enough noise to block out any degrading sounds you make. But you can’t take that risk. You’ve made the mistake of underestimating the Na’vi’s enhanced hearing before and that is what has landed you here. 

Neteyam twirls the tiny remote between his fingers like a fidget toy as another Na’vi warrior comes to report. 

You start to commiserate the loss of that ridiculous human sized loincloth Neteyam made you because at least then there was some fabric barrier to hide your wetness. Now, the thick Pandoran air runs up the cloak and over your soaked thighs and cunt. It reminds you constantly how pathetic you have become as orgasm after orgasm has escaped your grip. Even worse it reminds you how easy it is to carry that aroused scent through the breeze for all Na’vi to detect. At that rate, worrying about your noises is the least of your concerns. 

Lo’ak reloads the machine gun with practiced hands, moving with muscle memory so he can continue to stare and send silent messages your way. No doubt he is theorizing on what exactly his brother has done to diminish you to such a state. His eyes dance with those ideas, the little quirk of his lips telling you just how creative and vial his thoughts have turned. 

Another level up and this time it is Neteyam’s eyes that have you squirming. Your impending orgasm coils tighter and tighter with every passing second and you're so desperate to find some way to release this energy that your bare feet begin fidgeting against the concrete. It’s almost like a little dance, one that has Lo’ak laughing under his breath. 

It stops.

You breathe. 

There is some sort of commotion off in the distance. Not one that you can truly pin down the source of but you do notice the way Neteyam nods as a Na’vi female says something to him. With a wave she is dismissed and then the Olo’eyktan saunters off. Although slightly worried over the trouble, you are grateful for the respite. 

And then a nightmare unfurls before your eyes.

Instead of marching to the issue, Neteyam takes a pit stop to converse with his younger brother. Lo’ak’s tail whips in the wind at whatever is whispered in his ear but the real horror comes when that traitor of a remote is handed over to the younger Sully male. 

You are seconds away from stomping over there and crushing that pink little weapon before the other male can wield it. However, your dutiful guard places a hand on your shoulder after just one step. His eyes remain locked forward but the warning is enough as his hand retreats. You are still being watched. 

With one last glance your way, Neteyam has the audacity to give you, his little pet, a warm smile before leaving you in the hands of his brother. 

Lo’ak swings the gun around to his back in favor of playing with his new toy. Every dark and viscous fiber left within you is channeled into the glare you give him. It should say everything that your lips can not.

Don’t you dare.

Don’t you fucking dare. 

Now would be a good time to look into Na’vi curses, anything you could betrix upon him for what he is about to do, because of course Lo’ak won’t back down. If anything that fire in your eyes lights his own delight and has him sitting down and bracing forward. Forearms resting on his thighs he clocks your every movement.

This is sure to be the best entertainment the bastard has had in a long time. 

He savors the passing moments of anticipation. Never backing down from the ultimate seething looks you give him. Finally a crash sounds and that distraction is right when Lo’ak sets the vibrator to high. From zero to one hundred, pleasure rackets through you like a shock wave. The force is so much that it temporarily makes you stumble on your feet. The other guard wordlessly steadies you back into place. 

Lo’ak’s grin is feral. 

This silent battle slips between your fingers so quickly it is hard to comprehend, because all that can register in your brain is how fast you are hurtling towards an orgasm. After Neteyam’s denial your body is high strung and ready to take any sensation as fuel to push you over the edge. Nails digging into the soft fabric of Neteyam’s cloak, pleasure rockets higher and higher until only the whites of your eyes are visible. 

Knees bowing inward, ecstasy is finally yours. 

There isn’t enough energy left to question why Lo’ak let you reach your high. Instead you focus on riding that wave while simultaneously keeping upright. 

That persistent buzzing against your sweet spot continues until your nerves are short circuiting. The pleasure turns to overstimulation and you give Lo’ak a look that alerts him of this change. 

His amusement tells you that he already knows your predicament but his thumb remains far from the off button. 

Pathetic noises now bubble up your throat without restraint as pleasure ebbs into pain. It switches back and forth until another release is on the verge of consuming your being. The guard next to you doesn’t say anything when he helps to sit on the cold ground. 

The second orgasm has a bitter taste to it but your greedy pussy clenches around the toy all the same. It’s almost too bad that Neteyam decided not to gag you because at least that would muffle your cries as you rock down onto the toy. Lo’ak gulps at the sight, pupils blown wide when the first glimmer of tears scrape down your cheeks.

Regardless, he shows no mercy as he takes in the show with undivided interest. 

Vaguely you register the bustle and commotion around you as different Na’vi and humans rush to and fro, giant machinery finally backing into place but they are only background noise to your third orgasm. 

Your body is caught between delight and despair with every passing second. When you are close to reaching your peak for the fourth time your body is resistant to get you there all the way. The intense buzzing in your pussy is driving you wild but still not enough to drag out another orgasm after being too overstimulated. Despite the soreness that emanates from your wrecked hole, your clit throbs in agony. Begging to be touched. To be licked. Pinched. Flicked. God, anything at this point.

Memories of Neteyam doing just that surface, pushing you closer and closer to another dumbing climax and yet only serve as a reminder of how you are not getting the treatment you so desperately need. Pride is dashed to the side, you’ll worry about the consequences of grinding onto the toy in public later. 

Lo’ak’s hands roughly brush over his inner thighs and it draws your attention. The taunt muscle and smooth skin of those thighs would surely brush over your intimate flesh so perfectly. He would probably help you too, hands clawing at your hips as they urge you back and forth over the area. Even more so, the younger brother would not be able to pass up the opportunity to show his power over the situation, muscles flexing to tease your clit oh so beautifully. 

You’re not sure when Lo’ak became telepathic but he grips his knees and gives you a look that says he knows every dark desire that plagues your brain. His nails press into that soft flesh and drag until there are pretty red marks left behind. If you crawled over there sweetly, would he let you ride? Maybe if you healed those red marks with open mouthed kisses and kitten licks. 

Unaroused you would be ashamed of this train of thought but she is so far gone now. 

The only thing your poor abused cunt is begging for was attention. Anything to get this awful mix of heaven and hell to bleed into euphoric release and rest. 

The only thing stopping you from reaching down and finishing the job yourself is the assurance that Lo’ak would snip all pleasure in a bud at the sight of any touching. 

The area has been cleared of invaders. Na’vi begin to make their way off to the hills before take off but you are none the wiser. Caught in your own little bubble you don’t even notice when a sudden shadow blocks out the sun. That is until, large warm hands slip under the cloak and skate over your spread legs. 

Such a simple touch has never made you whimper more. 

Neteyam’s accent is thicker now, words heavy enough to hardly understand the meaning as he coos at you. “There’s my sweet pet. Little slut just wants to come again, don’t you?”

His fingers force your legs to spread even wider. Lo’ak’s stares as if his glare could heat up enough to burn through that cloak. 

With such delicacy it makes you want to scream, Neteyam uses two fingers to part your pussy lips and expose your pulsing clit. The other hand slithers down to rest on your thigh as you try to buck against the air. 

“Come for your Olo’eyktan, pet,” He growls and with the other hand he begins delivering rapid little taps to your clit. It’s humiliating how tiny the gesture that puts you over the edge is but you paint the toy white regardless. 

When the vibrator finally takes a rest you are too far lost in your own little world. Neteyam swaddles you in the cloak and carries you in his arm as you bury into his chest. And conveniently, when you are tucked back in the forest there is no awareness left in you to recognize the sound of launching ships. 

As always interaction and feedback not only means the world to me but also as a great motivator for writing and updating<3

Taglist: @pandoraslxna@neteyamssyulang@tallulah477@criticallybella@sullybrothersmate@lilghostiequinni@chershire23@lala-1516@teyamshuman@yawnetu@puddle-nerd@ratchetprime211@avatargirly @chocolatechocobo91 @kariz-stark@bunnscoffe @avatarwifey @universal-s1ut@witchsprit@heart-an0n @riri-is-a-girlie @rivatar@minnory@ikeyniofthetayrangi@ilovehobi101@spicymayyo@v4mp1rr3@nilsavatar@bambithewriter@quicktosimp@itchaboi-itchyboy@thehoneymushroomhealer @ilytulipse @witchsprit@imwutim@crazy4books1@thegirlwholoveslivesfanfiction@danniackerman@dayyzlol@justabite7 @krispyjellyfishkitty @neteyamtesuli @sakurayuki8655-blog @deadpool15 @valeriinee @leaveitbythewave @aqxllo @mxnygn @crazed-flower @crimsonroses666 @property-of-neteyam @rejectedbytheempty

Let me know if I missed you. It's getting a littly tricky to keep track of everyone haha

[that-weird-thing-in-the-woods]

Oh well damn to be honest I really wasn’t expecting that 🌌🧿Ancient of space🧿🌌 was going to win but you menaces always find away to surprise me but anyway let’s get started on what you voted for

🌌🧿Ancient Of Space + Dani and Dan 🧿🌌

Now for the ✨PLOT✨ so Danny got got by the GIW after being turned over by his parents because…it’s them anyway after a few weeks of being with the GIW Vlad gets him out with the help of Dani and Dan but as they were leaving via the portal some of the GIW catch them they off Vlad (the rest of the way) and destabilized Dani and Dan ( who for this story will be called Dusk for Dani and Dawn for Dan because I feel like it ) and Danny has to take their cores and incubate them until they are able to stabilize enough and it takes around 9 months for that to happen { how convenient}

anyway and Danny heads to the ghost zone but since he has been with the GIW for weeks it would be obvious that Danny injured and he’s been running on adrenaline for the past few weeks and stress so he kinda crash lands in the castle ( with redeemed Pariah Dark let’s go!!) And he nurses him back to health { like with my 🪷Queen Danny🪷 Au} they build a father / son relationship with each other ( more like overprotective father / Hurt and some what traumatized pregnant son) and after some shenanigans and some late night crying from Danny he ends up as 🌌🧿The Ancient Of Space🧿🌌 and now we have for this family dynamic

A redeemed warlord turned King

A pregnant teen traumatized Ancient of space

And a weird uncle/father who has romantic tension with the warlord

And this is Danny’s ‘life’ for a few months ( well he’s a lest 6 months and showing because this is  important for the story line later in) {and you get the pun :)}

And now for the DC part of this Tim drake gets sacrificed by some cultists who wanted to get the “Mother Of Sun rise and Moon rising and Child of War and Time” and wakes up and sees… the stars?? Well not the stars from earth it looks like it comes from deep space where no living thing has ever been and ever well be and as he sits up and looks around it looks like he’s in some dark castle/temple that looks well taken care of and as he gets up and walks around he walks past a pool of water that is so clear that it looks like a bit of the night sky full of stars that it’s reflecting ( it’s not water it’s a bit of the night sky ) and that’s when he sees her…him..? Them, they look gorgeous and that’s all I can think of right now I’ll add more if I feel like it

Now for the details

I’m thinking for dannys outfit

And for his hair I’m thinking

And for the castle/temple

And that’s about it hope this is what you guys wanted byeeee

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Ooo can I please request a Bucky x fem!Enhanced!reader where she is Tony Stark’s daughter (he didn’t know about her until she found him an adult and now they’re super close) and she has mind reading powers and telepathy She is also super close with the other Avengers (especially Steve and Sam). She meets and falls in love with Bucky when she does a study abroad program for a year is Romania, the same time Bucky is on the run and living in Romania. Imagine Steve’s surprise when he tracks down Bucky to his apartment and finds Y/n living there with him in a serious relationship. And imagine her Dad’s surprise when SHEILD agents not only drag in Steve, Sam, Bucky, T’Challa, but also his daughter (who is now crying in his arms wanting Bucky, her bf). And because she can read minds, she knows what Zemo’s intentions are but couldn’t stop him in time?🥺 Anyways, Tony, Steve, and Bucky all want her to stay far away from the civil war but she hides on the Steve/Bucky’s jet and follows them and stops the three of them from fighting but they accidentally really hurt her in the process? The Avengers get back together?

(Endgame never happens)

Can’t Break Up Love » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Boyfriend!Bucky Barnes x Girlfriend/Enhanced!Reader, Dad!Tony Stark x Daughter/Enhanced!Reader with Steve Rogers/Captain America, Sam Wilson/Falcon, and T’Challa/Black Panther

Summary: Summary is what the request says⤴️

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, language, mentions of HYDRA, accidental injuries, crying, kissing, pet names

A/N: Thank you for the request @kpopgirlbtssvt 🩵 it’s so amazingly described🥰

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buck-star

GIF IS NOT MINE! GIF credit goes to the creator.

Finding out you’re the daughter of a billionaire, playboy, philanthropist is something you would’ve never expected. You expected your dad to be just a regular guy, which he is in a way… kinda. All though, he is a billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, he’s also Iron Man and an Avenger, which is the coolest thing ever. After your mom told you who he is, you contacted him and met him. Now, you and Tony have an amazing father daughter relationship.

“Are you sure you want to study abroad in Romania for a semester?” Tony asks.

“Yes, dad. You know I love to travel.” You say with a smile.

“You know I’m just looking after you, super girl.” He says.

You smiled and hugged him.

“Thank you for letting me use the jet.” You say.

“Anytime.” Tony replies. “Call me when you land.” He says, kissing your forehead.

“Will do, dad.” You smiled.

———

That was a few weeks ago. You’re still getting used to Romania. You were staring down at the map to the apartment building you’re staying in when you accidentally bumped into someone, causing you to drop your stuff.

“I am so sorry!” You apologized.

“It’s ok.” The man said.

You crouched down to pick up your things and so did the man.

“I’m James, but everyone calls me Bucky.” Bucky introduces himself.

“I’m Y/N.” You introduced.

“Are you visiting?” He asks curiously.

“Yes, but I’m also studying abroad for a semester.” You tell him.

“I’ve been here for a while so if you want, I can show you around.” He suggests.

“Yes please!” You say almost immediately.

Bucky chuckles.

“Where are you headed to?” He asks.

“My apartment.” You tell him, pointing to it on the map.

“You’re in luck. That’s where I live too.” He smiles.

“That’s great! I’ll see a friendly face.” You say with a smile.

Bucky walked you to the apartment building you two live in. As if it were fate, you and Bucky live on the same floor. There’s a few apartments in between you guys.

“I’d invite you in, but I have to study for a test tomorrow.” You say.

“No worries. Hopefully we’ll see each other tomorrow.” Bucky says with hopefulness in his voice.

“Hopefully.” You say with the same hopefulness in your voice.

You stood on your tippy toes and kissed his cheek before going into your apartment. Bucky had a smile on his face when he walked in his own apartment. He felt a newfound warmth in his heart and so did you.

The next day, you were so nervous about the test. Your mind was all over the place. That all washed away when you seen Bucky in the hallway of the apartment building.

“Good luck on your test.” Bucky smiles.

“Thank you!” You smiled back.

“Can I walk you to school?” He asks.

“Sure.” You replied.

The walk to school didn’t take long. You and Bucky talked the whole walk. It turns out that you and Bucky have a lot in common.

“Thank you for walking me to school, Bucky.” You smiled.

“Anytime, doll.” He smiles.

Bucky kissed your cheek, making you blush and smile.

“That kiss is for good luck.” He says.

“Thank you.” You smiled again.

“Now, go take that test.” He says, giving you a pat on the back.

You nodded and walked in the building with high hopes that you’d pass your test.

A few days have passed since you’ve taken your test. You were still positive that you did good on it. When you got your test back, you were over the moon with the grade you got that you went straight to Bucky’s apartment to show it to him. You repeatedly and rapidly knocked on his door till he opened it.

“Give a man a chance to open the door, doll.” Bucky jokes.

You held your test up, showing Bucky your grade. Bucky took it from your hand and looked at it, smiling when he saw your grade.

“You got an A! Good job, doll!” He says with a smile.

Out of nowhere, you kissed him, surprising the both of you. Your eyes widened when you realized what you were doing. You quickly pulled away.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to do that!” You apologized.

“Why are you apologizing?” Bucky asks.

Before you could answer, Bucky kissed you. This time, you didn’t pull away. Your hands grasped onto the fabric of his sweatshirt. Bucky wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you inside of his apartment and closed the door so no one walked by and seen you two kissing. That’s when you and Bucky started to fall in love with each other.

As you and Bucky got to know each other more, you two went on dates. Bucky asked you to be his girlfriend and he also asked you to be his girlfriend, which you happily said yes to both. Since Bucky is on the run, he wanted to have at home dates. You didn’t question it. You thought it was cute. Although, you don’t the reason why he’s on the run, you figured he’d tell you the reason when he’s ready to.

“Tell me something else I don’t know about you.” You say, maneuvering yourself so you were sitting sideways and criss crossed on the couch.

“You pretty much know everything about me, doll face.” Bucky says, laying his metal arm across the back of the couch.

Bucky found the confidence to tell you and show you that he has a metal arm. At first, he thought you’d be scared of him cause of it, but you’re not. You accept Bucky the way he is.

“I know, but I want to know more about you.” You pouted.

Bucky can’t resist it when you pout. He leaned towards you and kissed you before leaning back against the arm of the couch.

“Let’s see…” Bucky thought to himself for a moment. “Would you believe me if I told you that I’m actually almost 100 years old.” He says.

“There’s no way you’re almost 100 years old.” You said.

“I am.” He confirms.

“How?” You asked. “You look like you’re in your late 30s or early 40s.” You say.

“I’ll take that as a compliment. I was actually born in 1917.” He tells you.

“So my boyfriend is an old man?” You giggled.

Bucky playfully narrowed his eyes at you.

“I’ll let the old joke slide this time. Now it’s your turn to tell me something I don’t know about you.” Bucky says.

You hummed to yourself and bit your bottom lip as you thought of something. You finally thought of something. You never told Bucky that you have mind reading and telepathy powers. You were scared of what he’ll think when he finds out. Now is a better time than never to tell him.

“I have powers.” You tell him, fiddling with your fingers.

“What kind of powers?” He asks curiously.

“Mind reading and telepathy.” You tell him.

“How did you get them?” He asks.

“HYDRA.” You answered.

Bucky already knew your experience with HYDRA couldn’t have been any better than his without asking. Any experience with HYDRA is horrible.

“I’m sorry you had to endure the pain of HYDRA.” Bucky says softly and sympathetically.

“Thanks.” You say, giving him a soft smile.

Bucky kissed you to lighten the mood. You smiled against his lips and cupped his stubbly cheeks, rubbing your thumbs against the stubble of his beard.

“I love you, baby.” You whispered.

“I love you too, babydoll.” He whispers back.

The next day, you and Bucky went to the market down the street from where you two live. You two walked there hand in hand. You sensed something off about Bucky when you two left the apartment. You didn’t need to read his mind to know something was wrong. He was on high alert the whole time. You didn’t want to pester him about it though.

“Baby, look! They have those cookies I was telling you about you about the other day!” You exclaimed excitedly, showing him the package of cookies.

“That’s nice, doll. We should get them.” Bucky says.

“Yes!” You say, pumping your fist in the air out of excitement.

Bucky got a few plums from the fruit stand. As you two were paying for yours and his groceries, Bucky knew something didn’t feel right. It was like a gut feeling. He looked across the street, making eye contact with the vendor. The man looked at Bucky and then looked at the newspaper. It didn’t take him long to realize who Bucky is. Even in a disguise, he still recognized him. He ran out of his stand. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion as you watched him run.

“That was weird.” You say.

“I know right.” Bucky says.

You and Bucky walked hand in hand as you two crossed the street, walking to the stand the man ran away from. Bucky picked up the newspaper, seeing his picture on it.

This is not true. How could he have done something horrible in Vienna if he’s been with you all day? Unless if someone is trying to frame him for something he didn’t even do. That has to be it.

Bucky’s jaw clenched as he looked around.

“We have to go.” Bucky says, wrapping his arm around you protectively.

“Where?” You asked.

“Home.” He says.

Little did the both of you know that Steve was in yours and Bucky’s apartment while you guys were out. Steve looked around the apartment, finding your things there. He furrowed his eyebrows, trying to figure out why your things would be in Bucky’s apartment. As soon as you and Bucky walked in the apartment, your eyes went wide when you seen Steve dressed in his Captain America suit. Steve turned around, seeing you and Bucky standing a few feet away from him. He also noticed you two holding hands.

“Y/N?” Steve asks.

“Hi, Steve.” You say.

“What are you doing here?” He asks.

“I live with Bucky.” You tell him.

That was enough to tell Steve that you and Bucky are in a serious relationship.

“Do you know who I am?” Steve asks, adverting his attention to Bucky.

“You’re Steve. I read about you in the museum.” Bucky says.

You stood next to Bucky, listening to the two men talk. You had no clue what was going on. You were clueless about why Steve was there.

“I wasn’t in Vienna. I don’t do that anymore.” Bucky says.

That when it hit you. The reason why Steve is there is to protect Bucky and also you.

“Whatever you think he did, he didn’t do it.” You chimed in, defending Bucky.

“I’m on your side.” Steve assures.

“They’re coming your way.” Sam informs Steve in his ear piece.

“Why did you pull me out of the river?” Steve asks Bucky.

Bucky’s mind was all over the place. He knew the reason why he pulled Steve out of the river, but he didn’t know in that moment.

“I don’t know.” Bucky answers.

“Yes you do.” Steve says.

That’s when something was thrown through the window. You three looked down, eyes widening when you guys realized it was a bomb.

“What the f-” Bucky grabbed you and held you close to him, picking up the mattress to use it as a shield when the bomb exploded.

Then the door was busted open and cops entered the apartment. Bucky pushed you to Steve. Not in a rude way. In a way of protecting you. Your eyes were wide as you watched your boyfriend tried to fight off the cops.

“Buck, stop!” Steve put a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “You’re gonna kill someone!” He says.

Bucky knocked Steve to the floor and used his metal fist to punch a hole in the floor next to Steve, pulling a backpack out from underneath the floorboards.

“I’m not gonna kill anyone.” Bucky says.

Bucky shoved the backpack in your hands and looked deep in your eyes.

“Do you trust me?” Bucky asks.

“With my life.” You answered.

“Take this backpack and jump onto the roof across the balcony and I’ll come find you, ok?” He says.

“Ok.” You said.

Bucky gave you a quick peck on the lips before going back to fighting off the cops with Steve’s help. You put the backpack on your back and looked at the roof across from yours and Bucky’s apartment. You took a couple deep breathes before running and jumping to the roof. Surprisingly, you didn’t hurt yourself. You were surprised that you could jump that far.

“That was so cool!” You say to yourself.

Sam seen you on the roof as he flew over it.

“Who’s the person who just jumped on the roof from the apartment?” Sam asks.

“Y/N. Keep an eye on her.” Steve informs him.

“Got it, Cap!” He replies.

Sam flew down toward you. You looked up and seen Sam.

“Oh shit.” You mumbled to yourself.

Sam’s here too? What the hell is going on?

Something in your mind was telling you to run and you did. Bucky jumped to the roof you’re on a moment later.

“Doll!” Bucky shouts.

You stopped running when you heard Bucky’s voice. You turned around and ran to him. You gave him the backpack. He was about to put it on his back when someone in an all black suit that looked like a cat jumped onto the roof, coming out of nowhere.

You were so confused at this point. You decided to read the person’s mind. Your eyes glowed blue as you read his mind, your eyes widening what you read from his mind. The person who attacked Bucky wants him dead or locked up for something he was framed for.

Bucky managed to get away from the guy and ran, grabbing your hand. You and Bucky got to the edge of the roof. Before you could ask how you two were going to get down, Bucky wrapped his right arm around you with a tight grip and used his metal arm to slide down the wall. The guy in the all black cat suit followed you guys. Steve also caught up with you guys, running after you guys. Sam followed you guys from above.

Cars swerved to avoid hitting you guys. That’s when Bucky grabbed a motorcycle, throwing the person off of it and you two got on it. Not too long after that, you, Bucky, Steve, Sam, and the guy in the cat looking costume got stopped by Rhodey and the cops. You guys held your hands up in surrender.

“Congratulations, Cap. You’re a criminal. So are you Y/N. Your dad isn’t going to be proud of you when he finds out.” Rhodey says.

Bucky got shoved to the ground and handcuffed.

“Bucky!” You screamed.

Steve wrapped his arms around your waist before and pulled you against him you could get to your boyfriend. Bucky looked at you with sadness in his eyes. He didn’t mean for you to get involved in any of this. He was just trying to protect you and tried his best to avoid all of this from happening.

You guys got put into a transport vehicle and the right was quiet. Your face was covered in tears and you fiddled with your fingers. You also found out the guy who was in the Black Panther costume is T’Challa.

“Do you like cats?” Sam’s asks T’Challa.

“Sam…” Steve warns.

“He showed up dressed as a cat and you don’t want to know more?” He says.

“I do.” You say with a small giggle.

“Y/N wants to know too.” He says.

Steve turned around, giving you and Sam a warning look. You two remained quiet after that.

“Are you ok?” Sam asks you.

“I would say yes, but I just witnessed my boyfriend getting arrested for something he didn’t even do so I’m pretty far from ok.” You answered.

“Hang in there, little Stark.” He says, patting your knee.

The vehicle pulled up to a big building. You weren’t sure what it was. You watched as Bucky was being hauled around in a pod type of thing. You took a couple steps in his direction, but Sam stopped you by grabbing your arm and gently pulled you towards him.

“I know you want to go to him, but you can’t right now.” Sam says softly.

Your eyes teared up again. You seen your dad a few feet away. You ran straight to him and hugged him, breaking down in tears. Tony was surprised to see you and wondered why you were in the transport vehicle with Steve, Sam, and T’Challa. He didn’t question it though. He’s just happy to see you.

“It’s ok, super girl.” Tony whispers, comforting you.

Tony took you to a room that looks like a conference room. Steve and Sam followed.

“He didn’t do it.” You say after a few minutes.

“You can’t be too sure about that, kid.” Sharon says.

“No one fucking asked for your damn opinion!” You practically hissed at her.

Sharon scoffed before walking of the room.

“Bucky wasn’t in Vienna or wherever this happened. He was with me the whole time.” You tell everyone truthfully.

Steve and Sam believed you, but not so much your dad.

“How can you be so sure?” Tony asks.

“Cause I would’ve known if he did something he shouldn’t have done.” You say.

The more Tony stared at you, he could tell that there’s something you’re not telling him.

“What are you not telling me, young lady?” Tony asks in his dad voice.

You slid down in your chair and fiddled with your fingers.

“Tell him, Y/N.” Steve says softly.

“Tell me what?” Tony asks, looking from you to Steve and back to you.

You really didn’t want to tell your dad that your boyfriend is the former Winter Soldier. You already knew that he wouldn’t stop asking if you don’t tell him so you might as well tell him before he finds out from someone else.

“Bucky is my boyfriend.” You tell him after a few seconds.

It was quiet after that. You looked up at your dad to see a look on his face that appears when he’s pissed off about something. You already knew this wasn’t going to be good.

“No, absolutely not.” Tony says.

“I love him, dad! He loves me too!” You exclaimed.

“You are not dating someone who’s a criminal.” He says.

“I said no! You are not dating him!” He says, raising his voice.

Your bottom lip quivered and you stood up from your chair, running out of the room.

“Are you going to go after her?” Sam asks.

“No.” Tony rubs his hands over his face. “She’s going to calm down and come to her senses and realize I’m right.” Tony says.

“She’s in love with him. I’ve seen it.” Steve says.

Tony looks at Steve, narrowing his eyes at him.

“Who’s side are you on, Rogers?” Tony asks.

“I’m on your daughter’s side.” Steve says.

All Tony did was scoff.

When you ran of the room, you decided to wander around the building to try to find Bucky. You found him in an almost empty room. There was nothing but the metal pod Bucky was in and a table and chair in front of it. There was a man in there with Bucky, who’s name is Helmut Zemo.

Before you could do anything the power went out and a red lit up the room. Zemo started reading words from a book in Russian. You didn’t understand what he was saying, but you knew it was good cause Bucky was starting to get mad.

“Stop it!” Bucky growls.

Zemo kept reading the words. Bucky broke free from the restrains and pounded his metal fist against the door of the metal pod like a caged animal trying to get out of its cage. When he finally broke free from the metal pod, he slowly stood up with a dark look in his eyes. The whole room was silent. It was like a calm before a storm.

You decided to take the opportunity to read Zemo’s mind to see what his intentions are. Your eyes glowed blue as you read his mind. The things he was thinking about at the moment was a mission report from December 16, 1991 and he wanted to see an empire fall. You were curious to know what those two things meant.

All hell broke loose before you could do anything. Your eyes went wide. You quickly hid alongside the wall. You closed your eyes and tried to process what you just saw.

“Y/N, where’s Bucky?” Steve asks.

You pointed to the room next to you. Steve went in there and so did you and Sam. Zemo was laying on the floor. Steve picked him by his shirt and slammed him against the wall.

“Who are you and what do you want?” Steve growls.

“To see an empire fall.” Zemo says.

Out of anger, you punched Zemo in the face, giving a bloody nose.

“What the hell did you do to my boyfriend?!” You asked.

“You’ll find out soon, Miss. Stark.” Zemo says, smirking facetiously.

What’s that supposed to mean and how does this man know your name?

That’s when Bucky came out of nowhere and started throwing punches at Steve and Sam. You backed up against the wall so you didn’t get caught up in the mix. Even as the Winter Soldier, Bucky would never hurt you. He wouldn’t forgive himself if he did hurt you.

“Get Y/N out of here!” Steve says to Sam.

Sam nodded and grabbed your arm. You two started running and exited the building. Sam saw Zemo’s jacket on the ground. He picked it up and then looked around. He dropped it back on the ground.

“Stay here.” Sam says.

You nodded. You assumed Sam went back inside to help Steve. You felt like you should do something to help so you came up with a plan. You figured that the quinjet was somewhere around there. You figured if you hid somewhere on the quinjet that you could stop something bad from happening. So you found it and got on it, hiding somewhere inside of it so no one could see you. You also found a mission suit that belongs to Natasha and put it on so you blended in more.

During the flight, you didn’t know where Bucky and Steve were going until you heard one of them say HYDRA. You didn’t know which base they were going to though. The conversation Bucky and Steve were having made you tear up. The things HYDRA did to Bucky and made him do broke your heart.

What it seemed like hours, you were still hiding in the quinjet. You wanted to go inside of the base before it was too late, but not too early. You managed to sneak inside of the base without Bucky and Steve seeing you. You hid along the walls and stayed quiet. You seen your dad there too.

What’s your dad doing here?

You watched as anger bubble in your dad as he watched a video on a small screen.

“Did you know?” Tony asks Steve.

“I didn’t it was him.” Steve says.

“Don’t bullshit me, Rogers!” He says. “Did you know?” He asks again.

Steve nodded his head yes. Tony blasted Steve with an energy blast, which he blocked with his shield. Bucky rose his gun to defend Steve, but Tony blasted it out of his hands. Your eyes went wide. You knew this was just going to get worst. You needed to stop it and now’s that time.

“Dad, stop!” You shouted, coming out of your hiding spot.

“Y/N, what are you doing here?” Tony asks.

“Stopping you from killing my boyfriend.” You say.

“Kid, if you knew why I’m doing this, you’d understand.” He says.

Tony rose his hand up, blasting an energy blast at Bucky. Steve threw his shield to Bucky and he caught it, holding it in front of himself. The energy blast hit the shield and then came flying towards you. It hit you before you could jump out of the way. Everyone’s hearts dropped to the pits of their stomachs and their eyes grew wide. Bucky was the first one to be by your side.

“Doll, wake up.” Bucky whispers, gently tapping your cheek.

Tony shoved Bucky aside to get to you. Steve got down by your side too. Tony placed his hand on your chest where heart is.

“Jarvis, check for a heartbeat.” Tony says.

“Heartbeat detected, but she’s in critical condition and needs medical attention.” Jarvis informs him.

“We need to get her to a hospital.” Steve says.

Bucky picked you up bridal style and carried you to the quinjet with Steve and Tony following behind him. As Steve flew the quinjet, Tony watched Bucky closely with you. Bucky whispered nothing but sweet words to you. Seeing how sweet and loving Bucky is with you, made Tony want to change his mind about how he thinks about him.

You woke up a few hours later in a hospital room. Your eyes squinted to adjust to the light. You heard a monitor beeping and the voices of your dad and your boyfriend.

“Guys, she’s awake.” Steve says.

You turned your head to the right to see Bucky, Steve, and your dad.

“Hi, doll.” Bucky smiles. “How do you feel?” He asks.

“Like I got hit by a truck.” You winced. “What happened?” You asked.

“You got hit with an energy blast that was meant for Bucky.” Steve says.

“The doctors want you to stay here for a few days for observation.” Tony says.

After a few days in the hospital, you were able to go home. Home meaning the Avengers compound. Your dad and Bucky talked it out and he’s living in the compound. Bucky is sharing your bedroom with you. Tony, Steve, Sam, and the rest of the Avengers talked everything out and got the team back together. They even asked Bucky to be part of the team, which he happily accepted.

“How do you feel?” Bucky asks softly.

“I don’t feel as sore as I did a few days ago. Your kisses made me feel better.” You says.

“I’ll happily give you more kisses, doll” He says.

“Then what are you waiting for, Sarge?” You murmured softly and playfully.

Bucky leaned down, kissing you sweetly and passionately. The kiss was short lived when Jarvis’s voice sounded through the intercom of the lounge room.

“Mr. Stark said to get back to work, Sergeant Barnes.” Jarvis says

Bucky groaned, making you giggle.

“I love you, doll.” Bucky says softly and kissed you once more.

“I love you too, baby.” You murmured softly.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

[purple-haired-faerie]

Family pt 1

Azriel x reader

Future fic, Family fic, established relationship

Word Count: 800

You had thought this time would be easier. You were only given birth to one Illyrian babe this time, rather than two. However your daughter seemed to have other plans. According to Madja, the babe had was at an angle they shouldn’t be at, and a wing had gotten caught. Madja was confident that you’d be fine, as long as she was carful and got the babe out soon. Azriel had been in such a state when Madja had initially broken the news, that it had taken both Rhysand and Cassian to drag him out the room, realising he wasn’t actually helping the situation. They had taken him to look after your teenage sons, saying that they needed their father whilst their mother was bringing their baby sister into the world. Feyre had promised to stay with you and assist Madja.

I have no idea how long my labour lasted after that point, or entirely what happened after Azriel left. I knew pain, I had fought in the war against Hybern, and had delivered twin Illyrian babes before but having a babes wing rip me from the inside out was on another level, and I was loosing a lot of blood. But then a cry broke out, a cry that wasn’t mine. It was a babies cry and Feyre was placing my daughter in my arms. Madja checked me over, and gave me some medicine to help with the injuries, and Feyre cleaned me up before quietly, Madja following her out, supplies all packed up. They were replaced with Azriel, and our sons where hot on his heels. Axel and Elias immediately came over, cooing over their baby sister.

As soon as Azriel and I had told them I was pregnant, they had become even more protective of me, taking after their father in that regards. It was sweet, but having three overbearing Illyrian males playing mother hen could get a lot at times. I shouldn’t complain, it wasn’t a guarantee that teenage males would want to spend time with their Mum but Axel and Elias had proven that notion wrong. They had gotten worse when they had found out I was having a girl, becoming even more protective of me and telling me how they were going to protect their baby sister. I’d spent a lot of time with Feyre, who understood all too well what it was like to be a boy mum and pregnant. She’d has Selene five years ago and had to content with a seventeen year old Nyx and Rhys following her around all over the place.

“I’m sorry I freaked. You were the one in labour and yet I was the one who couldn’t handle it. If anything happened to you…” Azriel’s babbling brought me out of my thoughts. It wasn’t often the Shadowsinger of the Night caught babbled, but when he got spooked in regards to his family, the babbling started. I gave him a reassuring smile saying “you were exactly where I needed you, with the boys. And anyway it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Rhys lost his cool when Feyre had Selene and need I remind you what Cassian was like when Nesta had Clarissa? I’m okay Az. And so is our little Esther”. We’d decided on the name Esther as it meant star, and I had found out I was pregnant on Starfall. I could tell Azriel wasn’t convinced but decided that now wasn’t the time to have that conversation. Instead, he asked “so who wants to be the first to hold their baby sister?” which only caused squabbling between the two brothers.

Despite being twins, the boys were non-identical. Admittedly they had inherited all the Illyrian features from their father, but there were differences. Axel had more green in his eyes and had a slight height advantage over his bother (they were still 6 foot tall at fifteen and still growing) and had inherited Azriel’s shadowsinging abilities. Unlike his father, he was an extrovert and had the ability to make friends with everyone. Elias had inherited my healing abilities, and was more introverted. He had a slight stammer and hated talking to people he didn’t know, terrified they would bully him, mocking him for his ‘inability to speak properly’. Azriel and I had always told him it was nothing to be ashamed of, and Axel pointed out that he and Nyx would always sort out anyone who was mean to him.

Somehow they came to an agreement and Axel was cuddling Esther, and Azriel had me cuddled into his side. I couldn’t help the smile that formed on my face. After all the pain and trauma we had all been through, the reward of being married to my mate, and having three beautiful, healthy children whilst living in Velaris.

Tags; @romantasyreader28 @suppppp97

[asmogorna]

Ok so for the last couple days ive been ill in the head about The Black Parade as mcr's alter ego/characters and i wanted to share some thoughts i had so far :3

It doesnt align with the canon lore that we have (i didnt really use it for reference at least) so it can be viewed as some sort of an au

I dont know if im gonna give them new names that just sound similar to the names of mcr themselves, so for now i will be referring to them by the names of the band members

So far I've been thinking about the typical "chosen by fate" scenario, where the characters lives lead them through a path for a specific cause

So

Post WW2 England

5 kids under their own circumstances witness a big parade (I will be doing some research and see if it could be some kind of victory celebration parade? It's just that I'm not sure if England had those. Not that I'm aiming for historical accuracy atp it's simple curiosity)

The kids get heavily impacted by that event and carry on (ha) that memory throughout their life

Now to the specifics of the characters cus by God they all gave me a headache

Heads up: they're all british orphans lol

Frank and Bob are students/residents in a Christian orphan school, and later on in life are priests in the town church

The reason why is that they both have badges on their uniform with crosses that could be associated with christianity

(I couldn't find any info about what exactly certain design details could be referencing, so ig it's up to interpretation)

The military theme in Gerard and Mikey's costumes will be explored on later (Mikey's medal could be either The Victoria Cross or The Distinguished Flying Cross, and the symbol on Gerard's shoulder is most likely the Order Of The Garter star)

And I couldn't figure out what to do w Ray, because I'm not sure if his uniform design details reference anything specific 🤷🏾🤷🏾🤷🏾

Now, Gerard and Mikey lost their father to war, and their mother passed away when they were both very young

And after that they ended up in the same orphanage as Ray, befriending him and finding out about their shared passion for music

This doodle was made abt that specifically <3

Later on in early adulthood they decide to start a cabaret band, in which Frank and Bob both join them later, deciding to leave their priest lives behind (partially because iirc both of them kinda fanboyed their way into the band irl lol)

After receiving little recognition, the band decides to take a train to America, to try their luck there. With a lot of hope and determination

That, sadly, doesn't last for long, for the train crushes with no survivors on board

The group crawls out of the collapsed train in their no longer physical forms. Yet, even after their death, they still have a desire to move forward. And that desire, though thoughtlessly, forces them to go forward. The souls of all the other people who lost their lives to the train accident follow them, through the landscape that no longer feels like earth

They then reach the end

Walking in one by one people disappear, finding their own peace and meeting their own finish line

After it's done, The Black Parade now have officially made themselves into what they're supposed to be. Gaining a new purpose and a new sort of life

I got too poetic for my own good here I fear .. anyway

Their job now is to lead the lost and the forgotten to the afterlife

They could be referred to as some kind of a grim reaper, I guess

I'm still thinking about adding more to the story, and maybe I will change some things, but so far this is all I can share really !! I hope if you've read this far you found this entertaining .. this is all for the satisfaction of my urges so I might or might not have too much fun w it in the future :3

The story was mainly inspired by this specific post from Gerard himself, because i liked the concept a lot ..

Also

She's gonna be here as a separate character too probably...... Cus I'm self indulgent and I love the ideas bubbling in my brain

[lamemaster]

Made of Sugar

Request: Hi! Hope this finds you well, mind if i req for a Thranduil x reader where they're like telling legolas how they met, maybe they met during the war of the last alliance? anyways love ur work especially the angst but now i need some not angst? cus im actually going to cry lmao

Pairing: Thranduil x Wife Reader

Genre: Fluff

AN: This has been due a long time! I'm sorry for the delay but this writer suffers from smooth brain 98% of the time.

“Legolas Thranduilion!” Your voice rings out loud, breaking his thoughts. For once, he wishes his father's presence was there. “Have I not made it clear that you are not to go to the wine cellars?” You pinch your nose blinking furiously as was your habit when agitated. 

Legolas hasn’t known love stronger than the one he has felt for you, his eme. Your stories, your songs, the little stars you paint on the roof of his room– Legolas absorbs them with the wide-eyed devotion of a sunflower turning its face to the first rays of the sun.  

But all that love does not diminish the distress of your anger. You, the one who laughed most easily, whose smile could chase away any shadow, were now a storm cloud gathered over his head.

The familiar scent of cinnamon and woodsmoke that clung to you did little to soothe the storm brewing in your eyes. Legolas flinched – he knew the terrifying, steely glint that hardened your gaze when truly angered. It was a sight rarer than a dust storm in Greenwood, but all the more impactful when it came. 

 At barely 80 years old, facing your wrath felt far more daunting than any monstrous spider lurking in the Greenwood.

"You are too young," you said, your voice tight. "Just you wait until I tell Thranduil." You paced around the room, pinching the bridge of your nose, a telltale sign of your agitation. "Maybe he will listen and move the wine cellars away from the main palace."

Staring at the untouched cakes, Legolas yearned for nothing more than for this tension to pass. He longed to see your easy smile return.  The sight of untouched cakes, usually a source of joy, only emphasized the heavy weight of your displeasure. He longed for the days when your laughter filled the room, chasing away any shadow.

“Beloved queen of mine,” Thranduil sauntered in, his footsteps barely a whisper on the polished floor. The scent of pine needles and leather, a familiar trail, announced his presence even before he entered. “The cellar unfortunately cannot be moved.” Thranduil is already in the process of taking off his heavy robes while detangling his hair from the crown's tiny branches.

Legolas watched with a flicker of worry as your eyes narrowed in annoyance before you gave up to help his ada. "He went in there today," your gaze felt heavy on him even as you busied yourself helping Thranduil detangle the crown. "What if he drank your wine? That thing is disgusting and Legolas is too young. You must move the wine somewhere else." You placed the crown on the table.

Thranduil threw him an amused grin as your back remained turned to them as you instructed the staff to bring fresh snacks and tea. "What if I didn't get there in time…good thing Feren was kind enough to inform me."

"I am disappointed Legolas," Thranduil looked at him without an ounce of anger, and your glare at the king of Greenwood told him that this did not go unnoticed by you. "But I am sorry, my love," He looked up at you with a mischievous glimmer in his eyes, "The cellars must remain untouched. I would never in a million ages, change the place of our first meeting."

Legolas' breath hitched in his throat. You frowned. And Thranduil snickered in delight.

"You cannot be serious!" You replied indignantly.

"You met in the wine cellars?!" Legolas asked at the same time.

"We did, ion," Thranduil adds before you can cover his lips with your palm. Thranduil throws his head back and lets out a hearty laugh, the sound echoing through the room. A weird sight to see you this flustered, this agitated.

"We did not!"

"We absolutely did!"

"Well, I was 120," you say, a blush creeping up your cheeks. "You were not  princeling."

The servants gawk at the term of endearment that slips past your lips. Some almost drop the trays of food as they put them in front of you. But both you and Thranduil are too taken by the task of bickering like decade-old elflings. "Oh yeah, I too was of age," Thranduil counters with a twinkle in his eye. "Almost of age. Only 4 years shy of it."

Thranduil straightens up, taking a playful bite into a fruit cake. "Four years too young, my love," you smirk, the topic of Legolas' transgression long forgotten. The steel of your rage softened into its original inky warmth.

"I acquiesce, my respected elder," Thranduil bows dramatically, sending another wave of laughter through the room. Legolas watched in amusement, a flicker of relief washing over him as the conversation shifted. Your voices rose in a playful argument.

Legolas, eyeing the untouched cakes, finally understood. Your gentle nature thrived beside his father, much like the sweetness of a cake is best appreciated with a pinch of salt.

[kyunniebuns]

˗ˏˋ Sung Jinwoo x Terminally ill Reader ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕘 𝕁𝕚𝕟𝕨𝕠𝕠˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

・┆✦ Entry : 023 ✦ ┆・

‼️[ TW: Terminal Illness, Angst to Fluff, Solo Leveling Spoilers ]

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅ Part 2 || Part 1 ♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

╰┈➤ ❝ [ We'll Try This Again, Begin Again with Zero. But This Time? I'm Never Letting You Go. ] ¡! ❞

Living felt more like a punishment more than anything. The pain he goes through starts feeling more and more deserving in his eyes. He was pushing himself to the limits when he shouldn't, he's punishing himself over a sin that wasn't really his fault.

But if anyone tells him that, he wouldn't look back at them. He would ignore their concerns.

He has a duty to uphold anyway, a duty that only he can do as a monarch.

Jinwoo has ultimately grown to be a vessel of war thanks to the system.

He didn't really care much, he already placed insurance to his name if anything happens to him.

When he's gone, his remaining family would atleast live off of something.

He has already watched his father die too thanks to the godforsaken monarchs.

What more can he loose?

Over and over again, he puts himself in the battlefield, exhausting himself on purpose, never even sleeping nor eating.

He was just fighting like a dog.

Well, dog's get much more care than what he does to himself, so does it really count?

It doesn't matte,r Jinwoo physically cannot be exhausted.

But mentally? It's a different story.

He wasn't really depressed, at least, that's what he tells himself.

He really felt numb, not exactly sad, not exactly happy either. It's as if his emotions lie in the middle.

Jinwoo felt hollow, completely hollow.

As if he were merely nothing more than a puppet in war.

The only thing that really urges him to move forward is the distant sound of his beloved's voice in the back of his head.

And soon, after he had finally murdered the Monarch of Destruction— He would be granted a wish.

Battered and tired while on the floor, he thought of what he could possibly ask from the rulers.

Thought of?

No, Jinwoo already knew what he wanted.

It was to turn back time.

To meet old friends again, to stop the gates from opening, to have his family whole again

,... To meet you again.

Yes. That's right. All of this was for you anyway.

Jinwoo recalls that memory very clearly, how you were still in the hospital bed and you two were playing a game of cards while he tells you about how he plans to be a hunter soon.

Your words were quite cute really: "I hope Woowoo becomes a really strong man!"

Those silly, innocent words of yours.

Up to this day, he still smiles lovingly whenever he remembers that.

He became this strong not just for himself and his family who needs him, but for you, the brave little soul who endured that illness—

Jinwoo fought for you

And since he is given the opportunity to correct the past, he requiested for time to be rewinded.

Right then and there, a brilliant flash of white would engulf the earth, bathing it in all it's glory. eradicating all traces of the lifeforms and shadows there is to this pathetic universe. For once in a million years, the earth was beautiful again. It looked like a star gleaming along with countless others.

Soon, Jinwoo would wake up to the sound of his baby sister's calling. Jinwoo would sit up, gently smiling at her.

It took a while for everything to sink in, for everything for him to realize that this? All of this was reality.

How badly he wanted to find you in the time he spent, for just a few weeks, he enjoyed being a child again.

Laughing with friends, screaming at others for a vanguard or healer in the pc cafe— He wanted to find you in an instant. But not right now.

He took care of some stuff first.

Your illness wont awaken until then after all.

27 years, he spent time in that goddamn dimensional crack fighting monarchs and all that crap.

When he was done, he finally came home.

Just as he set foot back in earth again, he went straight to the hospital.

April 9th of spring, where the pink petals bloomed and flew around the air— This beautiful but tragic day.

Was the first time you had collapsed and coughed out blood.

It started with your lungs, to your kidneys, to your heart, to everywhere.

You had metastatic cancer.

Coughing up blood was only the start.

And Jinwoo had come home just in time.

He didn't even ask for directions, he just went straight to your hospital room.

He knew this godforsaken place better than the doctors and nurses himself after all.

As he pried open the door, there you were, resting on the bed staring absentmindedly at the pink trees outside your window. When yopu heard the sound of the door, you turned your attention to Jinwoo.

Dazzling and innocent eyes, just as he remembers. Your youthful face, free of any sign of wrinkles. Still chubby and plump that he wanted to just kiss your cheeks all over.

As you called out his name, Jinwoo marched over and embraced you tightly.

"I'm sorry, it took me a while" Jinwoo whispers ever so lovingly as he rubs the b ack of your head affectionately.

You were confused at first, wondering why your best friend is acting all cuddly and sappy when he totally did not disappear off of the face of the earth and come out of nowhere like some sort of boogey man. But regardless, you can't help but notice the traces of tears about to break from lovely grey eyes.

When you reached over to touch his face, his voice broke and he started crying almost instantly.

Panicked and confused, you pulled him to a tight hug.

Jinwoo was crying, and in his tears and broken voice you could hear the amount of anguish he had been bottling up, the brokenness in his heart finally being revealed in the open for you to hear and see. It felt as if Jinwoo was carrying a hundred years worth of burden. And you could do nothing more than to soothe him.

"I'm sorry... Ditching you out of nowhere and acting like a sappy pup wo got kicked" He chokes as he chuckles gently, "I promise, promise, that I won't leave you like that anymore. Just trust me, okay? Here, drink this."

He hands you a weird fantasy-potion thing with red liquid inside. You wanted to deny him of it but Jinwoo stubbornly insisted upon it, as if your life depended on it.

Well, tehnically speaking, it did depended on that potion.

After making sure you gulped down every single drop of the crimson liquid, Jinwoo pressed his forehead against yours.

Mumbling ever so sweetly; "Let's do this again, okay? You and me, goofing around. I'll let you eat as much sweets as you like, I'll show a lot of pretty things. Don't worry about anything else, Woowoo will take care of it."

Somehow, you felt that Jinwoo meant that on a deeper level. You felt like right now, what in front of you wasn't just anyone else, but someone ready to lay down their life for your sake. The person in front of you, you felt as if he was going to follow you to the ends of the earth to the stars above your heads. Somehow, it feels as if his words was a promise that he would follow you wherever you go.

He already lost you once, damned will he be if that happens again.

ʚ(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ .｡✧･ﾟ: ~♡ —! stories written by kyunnie; translations, reposts, plagiarism are strictly forbidden.