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yanderenightmare · 8 months ago

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Aemond Targaryen

♡ TW: arranged marriage, implied incest, HOTD in general

♡ fem reader

Aemond took Vhagar, and you took his eye for it. It became the day your family tore down the middle. Your mother, heir to the throne, retreated with all of you back to Dragonstone, where you’d been hiding for a longer time—once again leaving Kingslanding in the hands of its dying King and the surrounding Greens.

You think it’s all the same, really—you’d rather stay away from that place anyway. Of course, you regret having taken your uncle’s eye. It was, after all, not even your fight—nor was it very ladylike. But you can blame your mother for that. She never taught you temperance—or any manners at all, for that sake. Still, blinding one’s own family isn’t right. And yet, it’s a sin you learn to live with over the years spent removed from its victim.

On Dragonstone, you’re free—on dragonback, for the most part. You’d long left the matters of the court to your brothers. Jace was the one who’d be King after your mother, while Luke would be Lord of Driftmark, and you’d stay here—on Dragonstone. By yourself and to yourself. You’d still have to marry, of course, there’s no way around it—but like your mother, you’d get to choose for yourself. That much, you have no doubt.

If you could, you’d always stay on Dragonstone, isolated from anywhere else, but it seems, once again, Kingslanding calls for your return. The King has taken a turn for the worse, and with it, your mother has grown wary of her claim. And so, the heir to the throne and her family along with her were all to voyage home.

You sigh as you look at the approaching castle. It’s not how you remember it, but whether it’s uglier or smaller or something else entirely isn’t clear to you as you watch from the ship. When all this bickering and uncertainty would end, you couldn't know but hoped it would be soon so that you could return swiftly. In a way and in a thought you would never voice out loud, the King’s death would bring about a much-needed calm in your family. Your mother would take the throne as is her birthright, and all else would be put to rest.

Oddly, no one came to welcome you when you arrived. Even your red Targaryen banners had turned green in your absence, as if the groundskeepers had neglected their duties and let the weeds grow as they pleased. No doubt, it would be yet another troubling topic over dinner.

But not one you’d bother yourself with. You make your way to refamiliarize yourself with the grounds instead—walking down a hundred turning memory lanes in the castle as if trying to find the center of a maze. You remember why you left this place—barren halls, all filled with nothing but the whispers of your hair color not being silver. Such things didn’t reach across the waters—they couldn’t touch you back on Dragonstone. Being back doesn’t feel much like a homecoming at all—more like a return to something foreign—even though that makes little sense.

You tell your assigned kingsguard to escort you to your chambers, but on the way, you hear the chimes of something more compelling. And following it, you find yourself on the balcony of the training arena.

And oh—you hardly recognize him. Tall and lean, all riddled with taut muscles he’s sharpened like the blade held in his grip. His hair is neatly combed, long, and perfectly silver like moonlight off a lake. The only thing disrupting it is the black leather patch covering his eye. And while you watch him swing his sword all so mercilessly but with a certain grace you’ve never before seen, you can't help but imagine you're the straw doll he's practicing on.

His eye meets yours without warning. One moment, he’s focused on his training and the next, he’s zeroed in on you.

You can’t help but flinch, skirting back as if the railing had suddenly burnt you. And then, well, shamefully, you very nearly ran away—skittering back into the maze as though wanting to find someplace to hide.

You want to return to Dragonstone. More than a yearning now, it’s almost a must. You’re nearly fetching your dragon from the pit to leave immediately, but you know that wouldn’t be proper. Your mother would be upset with you, and you’re not one to disappoint her. She has enough worries as is. You wouldn't make yourself one of them. And so you stay.

Your maids bathe you and then help you get dressed. And then you join the rest of your family for supper—dreading the presence you’d felt earlier, knowing he’d be there as well.

You keep your gaze fixed on your meal, and yet you can feel his one-eyed stare from across the dinner table. Neither of you looks anywhere else. And neither of you speak.

Aegon says many things—none of which you hear—though, possibly slights about your origin. It seems he and your brothers are arguing. But it’s nothing new. The King, your grandfather, the poor old man, shares words of family and love to defuse the tension once and for all. But you can’t agree—not when the one-eyed glare feels to lash out at you like the fire of an untamed dragon.

The Queen, of all people, salutes your mother. It seems genuine enough. And still, you don’t feel her sons share in her show of respect.

Jace rises and offers Helena to dance—ever the dutiful son. Luke follows in his lead and offers the same to Rhaena. And then, much to the twist of your own empty stomach—your plate of food untouched—Aegon also rises and takes a drunken step in your direction.

Still, he’s the lesser of two evils around the table. But shortly after taking his second step, he’s beaten to the punch by said greater evil. His hand reaches out, yet you don’t dare acknowledge the offer. Coated in goosebumps, you feel frozen.

“Didn’t you hear the King, dear niece?” he speaks—lowly in a hush. “The family feud has been resolved now. We ought to usher in its newfound peace while it lasts. You and I more than anyone. Take my hand and let us dance atop grievances, dead and buried.”

You recognize the threat in his words. To deny him would mean rejecting said peace. And so, with a deep exhale, you lay your hand in his death grip and follow him to the floor. And now you really feel no different from that battered straw doll in the arena.

“You’ve grown up rather beautifully since last we saw each other,” he says.

You know you ought to utter a thank you, but no words dare escape the choke of your throat as he positions an all but crippling paw on your waist—the other in the air pressed flatly against your own.

“I, on the other hand, am too hideous to look at, it seems,” he adds when you don’t answer. Voice lowering even more so into a brisk whisper that no one but you would be able to hear, “Won’t you face me, dear niece? And gaze upon the atrocity you dealt when we were children.”

Finally, you pick your head up. “I—” You falter just as quickly—his smile catches you completely off guard. Still, your eyes go to the scar escaping his patched eye—deep and unforgiving where you’d ruthlessly slashed your knife. You swallow thickly. “You have my deepest regrets, uncle. There hasn’t been a day I haven’t asked the Gods for forgiveness.”

To that, he laughs. “There’s no need. I long forgave you.”

There’s an utterly misplaced joy in his eye you’ve never before seen. And you’re left wondering if he’s really the same Aemond you remember.

“Not a blade has struck me since,” he says, simpering. “In a way, I ought to thank you for it. It seems it’s given me luck.”

He doesn’t seem grateful, despite his words. Yet, he doesn’t sound spiteful, either. You don’t know what to make of it. If anything, he seems satisfied with something.

“Anyway, it’s not right for a man to bear ill will towards his wife.”

Your brows furrow. And a creeping chill befalls you. Certainly, you heard him wrong, or he misspoke, or you’ve misunderstood something somehow.

“Oh? They haven’t told you?” he asks—his lips curling further at the corners. “Oh, dear niece—why do you think you’re here? Just visiting?” he snickers.

You still don’t understand. Or maybe it’s that you refuse to. Looking at him desperately in wait for him to stop laughing and explain the joke, even if it’s on you.

“The King spoke of peace, but peace, as you must know, isn’t brought about without payment.”

You remain silent. Still waiting to have your doubts eased.

“Oh, do I have to spell it out for you?”

Despite his sigh, he doesn’t look any ounce worth of exasperated—no, rather amused.

“You’re unwed. As am I,” he finally clarifies, and yet it does nothing to dispel your troubled head. “Marriage has always been the Targaryen way. I’m surprised you didn’t know,” he continues unbothered, a certain snideness to his tone, “But then again, you and your kin aren’t very Targaryen at all, are you?”

You don’t humor the insult. After all, you were way more concerned with what he’d said about marriage.

“Don’t worry. It’s not what matters. Not to me, at least,” he says. “I, for one, welcome our union.”

Your feet follow his lead as he dances with you in the palm of his hand.

“It’s rather poetic, isn’t it?” he smiles again. “You took my eye. And so, dear niece, I shall take your hand and everything attached to it.”

#aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #hotd aemond #prince aemond #aemond x reader #targaryen x reader #yandere aemond targaryen #yandere aemond x reader #hotd smut #hotd #house of the dragon #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere smut #yancore #smut

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is-this-even-relatable · 10 months ago

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Danny runs an Infinite Realms shop. Curiosities from every dimension, any culturally significant item lost to time, and some cheap china. He’s got it all~

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NEW FIC IDEA JUST DROPPED

Ok so i’ve been steeped in the dpxdc for many a year now. I've seen a bit of everything. I want to combine some of those ideas with a bit of my own headcanon and see what takes shape.

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Danny, half dead and half alive, one of the rarest species in existence, grown up yet still so young considering his immortality, powerful sovereign of an infinite dimension of beings from every possible world and universe, decides to settle somewhere and take it slow. After all, he's got eternity to do so.

So he finds a dimension he thought could only exist in comic books, and thought to himself, Now this, this is a nice place to settle. He loves how many heroes there are in this world, heck there are even aliens! Yet there are many heroes for a reason. With so many dark forces in the universe, it had to produce many bright beacons of hope to balance the encroaching evil. That is another reason why he chose this particular dimension, and this particular city. There was just so much negative energy, too much, in fact, that the heroes in this city, Gotham, could not keep up. He hoped that over the next century or however long he remained in this dimension, that his presence would provide a much-needed balm to the area, and that the sickly dark fingers of cosmic corruption would lessen. If not, well, he could always take a more direct approach. After all, he had the power of infinite universes backing him, one measly dimension’s worth of corruption against him would be like a minnow trying to catch a shark.

With a little bit of time travel shenanigans (thanks, Clockwork!), Danny soon has a perfectly legal identity as one Daniel James Fenton-Phantom, 30 years old (he figures he can pass as such, even though he stopped aging around 25), from a random town in bumfuck Illinois (sue him, it’s familiar). And after a bit of researching, Danny chooses a small street in the rougher side of the city. Not too big to be deemed as suspicious for buying practically the whole block, and out of the way enough to not attract too much attention. He spends a couple weeks getting used to the energy in this new dimension and setting up his haunt. He cleaned up what he was now referring to as “his street” in his head, and got rid of the debris, trash and general wear from the buildings. He hired some locals to renovate one, an old apartment that he was planning on renting out and staying in. He also chose a smaller building, somewhat tucked away in the corner, to use as his own personal store. The rest he leased out for cheap to small and struggling local businesses. He figured it’s the least he could do after already occupying so much space.

Several days later, and voila, his home was set.

#DPxDC #dp x dc #prompt #mine #is-this-even-relatable prompt

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milfsloverblog · 2 months ago

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first of all, i love u and ur works so much

second, this is the request >:) the cannibalism as a metaphor of love thing. been obsessed with it lately so i just had to request it.

so here, larissa has spent her life chasing after someone’s love—always the second choice, always in the shadows, like back in their nevermore days where she was just "morticia's shadow"

then now, y/n is a newly hired professor at nevermore. they'll have an interaction that will trigger or "spark" something in larissa. maybe like y/n is the one showing interest at first then larissa will fall harder. larissa will have them in her grasp. but something will happen that will make y/n want to leave (i believe you've mentioned before that you believe that larissa will always be somehow still in love with morticia...? 👀). but she will refuse to ever let go. even if that means making sure they can’t leave her. even if that means they must become a part of her, in the most literal sense.

honestly u can do whatever here :) while writing i've realized that the request seemed a bit long... so u can remove stuff as you wish.

"Shh. No more fighting. Just let me hold you. Let me have you."

Raw and Tender

Larissa Weems x fem!reader

A/N: absolutely ADORED writing this. I love getting sick and twisted requests that I can turn into something beautifully abhorrent. I hope you’ll enjoy this, have fun <3

The fading evening light cast a golden glow across the grand halls of Nevermore Academy, filtering through the towering windows in fleeting, bittersweet hues. It was the kind of light that always brought memories rushing back—memories Larissa Weems had long since buried. She had stood in these same halls, once upon a time, just as the golden light had always found her. The girl who had cast the longest shadow.

Morticia.

That name echoed now, like a ghost of the past. Larissa remembered standing next to her, feeling both taller and smaller all at once. Taller because of her height, always taller, always looking down while everyone else looked up to Morticia. Morticia with her effortless charm, her confidence, her laugh. That laugh. It still haunted Larissa’s quietest moments, ringing in her ears like a distant melody she could never escape. She thought she'd left those feelings behind, buried under layers of silk, authority, and the years she spent hardening herself into the figure she now embodied.

Yet here she was again, back in the shadows.

Larissa's fingers hovered over the old, faded photograph tucked into the drawer of her desk. Two young women—Morticia smiling with effortless radiance, and Larissa beside her, a pale imitation. Always beside her, never at the centre. The photograph had grown dull with age, the edges curling as if to retreat into itself. Much like Larissa had over the years.

Her reverie was interrupted by a soft knock at the door. She straightened instinctively, adjusting her posture, smoothing her skirt as if to pull herself together before being seen.

“Come in,” she called, her voice as steady as ever.

You stepped into the office, the light from the setting sun framing you in a soft glow. There was something about the way you smiled at her that was different from anyone else. Genuine warmth, unburdened by expectations. “I didn’t see you at dinner,” you said gently, stepping forward. In your hands was a cup of tea, the steam curling upward like a wisp of comfort. “I thought I’d bring this for you.”

The simplicity of your gesture, the tenderness of it, left Larissa momentarily speechless. Her fingers brushed against yours as she took the cup, the touch igniting a spark that neither of you could ignore. The warmth of the tea seeped into her hands, but the warmth of your presence was what truly settled the coldness she hadn’t realized had taken root in her chest.

“Thank you,” she murmured, her voice softer than she had intended, betraying the vulnerability she was desperate to hide.

You didn’t rush to leave. Instead, you set your bag down on a nearby chair and stayed, the quiet hum of your presence filling the room. “You seemed distracted earlier, during the meeting,” you observed, your voice threaded with concern. “I thought maybe you could use a moment to unwind.”

Larissa’s lips curved into a faint smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. You were always so perceptive, always attuned to the subtle shifts in her demeanour. It was one of the things she admired most about you—though it unnerved her at times, how easily you seemed to see right through her. “I’ve just been… preoccupied,” she admitted, waving a hand dismissively toward the pile of papers on her desk.

But the truth was heavier than that. Ever since you had arrived as the new biology professor at Nevermore, you had become a constant in her life, a quiet light amidst the growing shadows. Your energy, your kindness, the way you looked at her—not with judgment or expectation, but with something far more tender—it unnerved her. You were becoming more than just a colleague, more than just a welcome presence in her quiet moments. You had become a desire she wasn’t sure she could control.

In the days that followed, the space between you and Larissa seemed to shrink. Your interactions became more frequent, more intimate. What had started as casual conversations turned into lingering moments in her office, shared laughter over evening tea, and the occasional stolen glance that neither of you could explain.

There was something about the way you looked at her, how you didn’t just see the headmistress or the statuesque figure she projected to the world. You saw her. The person beneath the carefully constructed image. It terrified her, yet she found herself drawn to it like a moth to a flame.

One evening, after a staff dinner, you walked with her under the soft glow of lanterns that dotted the academy grounds. The air was crisp, the silence between you punctuated only by the soft rustle of the leaves in the wind. You turned to her, your eyes searching hers with an intensity that made her heart race.

“You’re remarkable, Larissa,” you said, your voice steady, but laced with a tenderness that made her breath catch.

Her first instinct was to deflect, to brush off the compliment as unnecessary. But something in your expression held her captive. She glanced down, trying to conceal the blush that crept up her neck. “You’re very kind,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

You stepped closer, your presence almost overwhelming in its warmth. “I mean it,” you insisted. “You have a presence that’s magnetic. There’s something about you that just… pulls people in.”

No one had ever spoken to her like that. No one had ever looked at her with such raw sincerity, as if they truly believed in her worth, not for what she could offer or how she fit into the world, but simply for who she was. It was both exhilarating and terrifying.

And when you leaned in, your lips brushing tentatively against hers, she didn’t pull away. She couldn’t.

Your relationship grew in secret, a fragile but radiant thing, hidden from the prying eyes of Nevermore’s students and staff. With you, Larissa felt lighter, more alive than she had in years. There were moments when she thought, perhaps, she could be happy—truly, deeply happy.

But the fear was always there, lurking in the background like a storm on the horizon.

When Morticia returned to Nevermore, it was as though that storm finally broke. Wednesday’s enrollment brought her mother back to the academy, her visits infrequent but potent enough to stir up old wounds. Morticia was still every bit as radiant as Larissa remembered, her charm and confidence seemingly untouched by time.

Larissa could feel herself slipping back into the shadows. Every glance, every word from Morticia seemed to pull her further away from you, back into the past where she had always played second to Morticia’s light.

You noticed the shift almost immediately.

“You’ve been distant,” you said one evening, your hand resting on hers as you sat together in her quarters. “Is it because of her?”

Larissa’s heart clenched at the question, her instinctive response one of denial. “That’s ridiculous,” she said, her tone sharper than she intended.

But you didn’t let it go. “I know how much she meant to you,” you said softly. “I can see how her being here affects you. Larissa, I’m here with you. Isn’t that enough?”

She wanted so desperately to believe you. To cling to the warmth in your eyes, the sincerity in your voice. But the insecurities that had plagued her all her life were hard to shake. The fear that one day, you would leave her too, that she would never be enough to hold onto someone as bright as you.

As the weeks passed, her behaviour changed. At first, it was subtle—a possessive hand on your arm, an insistence on knowing where you were. But soon, it became suffocating. Her texts came at odd hours, her presence constant and overwhelming. She would appear outside your classroom unannounced, her grip on your hand tighter than it needed to be.

One evening, after another confrontation where her jealousy had seeped into your conversation, you finally spoke up. “Larissa, I need space.”

Her expression darkened. “Space?”

“Yes,” you replied, taking a step back. “You’re hovering. It’s starting to feel like… too much.”

She stared at you, the fear in her eyes almost palpable. But she said nothing, letting the silence hang between you like a thick fog.

The breaking point came one stormy winter night. You had decided it was time to confront her, to tell her that you needed time apart to clear your head, to figure out what was happening between you. But as you stepped into her office, the look in her eyes stopped you in your tracks.

She was sitting at her desk, her back ramrod straight, her gaze fixed on the photograph of Morticia and herself. When she looked up at you, there was something wild, something desperate in her eyes.

“Larissa,” you began, your voice trembling with uncertainty, “we need to talk.”

She rose slowly from her chair, her movements deliberate and measured. “Don’t say it,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Don’t say you’re leaving me.”

“I’m not—” you hesitated, the words catching in your throat as the intensity of her gaze pinned you in place. “I just… need time.”

Her hand reached out, cupping your face with a tenderness that belied the storm raging within her.

“Shh,” she murmured, her voice soft, almost pleading. “No more fighting. Just let me hold you. Let me have you.”

The words were gentle. Loving.

Then—

A shift. A quiet crack.

Not loud. Not violent.

Just a whisper of finality as your body slackened in her grasp.

Hours later, the candles flickered against the pristine white tablecloth.

The wine glass was half-empty, red staining the rim where her lips had been.

Larissa sat in perfect stillness, the slow rhythm of the grandfather clock the only sound in the room. Her hands were steady, her expression serene.

She lifted a napkin to the corner of her mouth, dabbing at a faint smudge of red. It could have been lipstick.

Could have been something else.

Her gaze lowered to the plate before her.

Nestled among delicate silverware and fine china, its edges still glistening, sat a half-consumed human heart.

Yours.

Larissa exhaled slowly, savouring the moment.

There was no fear now. No more uncertainty.

She had spent a lifetime chasing after love. Always yearning. Always left behind.

But now—

Now, you would never leave her.

Now, you were part of her.

Larissa picked up her fork, pressing it delicately into the soft tissue.

She smiled.

The void within her finally felt full.

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#gwendoline christie #larissa weems x reader #larissa weems #no beta we die like larissa #larissa weems x y/n

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qvrcll · 10 months ago

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summary: with your subsequent marriages, you assumed that whatever friendship, and within it, desire and longing, you had with aemond in childhood had long since dissolved. but a dragon rarely ever yields.

warnings: EXPLICIT CONTENT AHEAD, childhood friend, non-targ reader, young betrothals, forced marriage mentioned, targcest marriage (a/h), possessive themes, dark aemond, (kinda) exhibitionism, finger in p, p in v, breeding kink, infidelity, cursing, slight dub-con but not really, aegon is a sorta decent friend if not a present and worthy husband, no dance of dragons

wc: 6.2K

author’s note: just watched ep 5 and i still stand by my slightly psychotic, slightly convoluted, wholly ambitious princess, but he’s on thin ice – aegon has suffered enough! you’ve made your point as king regent. this lowkey came to me in a melatonin-induced dream so excuse the errors if there are any, i haven’t written for this man since 2022! also, i’m so sorry aegon lol but then again, there is nothing more than friendship between him and reader – it’s just the principle that stings. oops :,) / dividers by strangergraphics

Carriage rides were always a handful.

More-so now, that you were a mother, cupping the back of your child’s head and bouncing him eagerly on your lap to keep him from fright, whilst your husband sat beside you, sticking his finger between the ridge of the little boy’s top lip and nose in a manner of teasing.

Rhaekar was a name that both you and Aegon had agreed upon. A fine name for a fine baby boy.

Fresh out of the womb and nursed delicately against your breast, Aegon’s usually frivolous and disengaged habits had quelled at the low cries that left the tiny bundle of cloth at your breast. He had uncharacteristically poked his head up and down, trying to catch a glimpse of the little wrinkled flesh, slick with blood and fluid.

He is tinier than I expected, he had said in a hushed tone, his ringed finger delicately tracing the fat of the newborn’s cheek, as if afraid to hurt it.

Most babies are, if not smaller, you had smiled.

It really was no secret. Your marriage with Aegon was not bourne out of love, nor willingness. He had detested duty, and you had grown cold at the thought of a loveless marriage. Even as you stood at the Sept steps, clothed head to toe in white that mirrored the marble of fresh-tasting cream frosting, cloaked in the regal cream of the Targaryen colours, the two of you had been too young to absolve or deny such a proposition.

But the years passed to prove that friendship could sprout in the absence of love. Aegon did not love you in a way you had hoped to be loved by someone, anyone. But he loved his son, and the friendship you held with him was near enough.

“He’s going to drool all over you,” you fuss gently, watching as your son takes his father’s finger into his two hands and grasps it like rope. A laugh is pulled out of Aegon – adoration is clear in his light irises.

“Do not worry, my dear boy,” Aegon drawls, broad and toothy smile catching the lines on his face, “Your father doesn’t mind.”

“He has grown.”

The third voice is a surprise, if anything. Yet it strikes a deep cord within you, familiarity bubbling in your chest at the age-old smooth voice, curved syllables.

Aemond.

You had been mildly conscious of his presence, and with him, Helaena, sitting across from you in the carriage. It wasn’t customary to be lodged in a single carriage like so, but with the destination being the annual hunt and Rhaekar’s name day, the family would need to be close. Well-knit as they walked out of the carriage for appearances.

Yet, you cannot help but hold Aemond’s one-eyed gaze for one second too necessary, to notice how he watches the three of you like a hawk.

Aegon breathes in softly, clearly distracted by the little babbling boy as he hauls him out of your lap at the arms and takes to playing with him more efficiently. You’re left to answer his brother’s question with a simple smile.

“The Maesters say he is growing up strong and fast,” your hands come to lay across each other on your lap, the action not being missed by the younger Prince’s steely, unreadable gaze. You almost burn under it, but you chalk it up to the closed space.

He doesn’t respond, but simply tilts his head forward in a single nod. When you look back to Rhaekar upon Aegon’s lap, he rips his gaze from your face to the youngling’s.

In his mind, he is barely hanging on. Stuffed in a carriage with a brother he would rather wrangle than humour, a lady wife he is bound to duty alone and the sight of his childhood companion – love, friend, half of his heart, whatever that constitutes – wed and mothering a son with not only another man, but his own debauched brother. He would sooner die than stomach that.

But Aemond holds more restraint than most mortal men. At least, he thinks he does. His single eye traces over the soft of your son’s cheeks and the ovals of his eyes – all traces of Aegon. All traces of you. His hands clench against the thick leather of his pants, trying to seem indifferent, as his eye trains back to your face.

Your gaze floats back to his. Only the two of you understand that there is a tension floating between you, but you alone do not understand it. He is hard to read now, more than ever. The event at Drift-mark had shut you out from all his previous behaviours, his usual antics and juvenile tendencies. Now, a hardened and roughened man remained, whatever trace of friendship conjured in your childhood being a mere floating memory now.

At least, it seemed like it.

“Ah, here we are,” Aegon chimes blandly, pointing to the carriage window to ascertain which Lords were which, and which camps held best.

The moment breaks as the footman hurries to the door, and with it, you step outside beside Aegon and clutch Rhaekar at your chest with a smile. Beside you, Helaena and Aemond step awkwardly together. The sight of cheerful men and ardent cheers overwhelm you, and you push back the feeling arising in your chest with a lost sense of conviction.

The maids are gentle with your son, and it is all that you need to quell your thoughts and feeling heart.

You are able to catch a moment of reprieve amongst the tent that was erected for the likes of you and Aegon. Being the first born son, the tent served to reflect exactly that. It lay amongst the middle of the camp, green silks draped over wooden posts in different shades, like thick vines draping from the ceiling. Where there had been thick ground outside, had now been replaced by a verdant carpet, embroidered by gold all throughout. An extravagant faux-throne stood at a few steps to the right, and a swath of low cushions to your left – toys lay upon those cushions, with your son teething at a toy that a maid had gently placed at his feet.

Lords and Ladies flitted from here and there, passing like blurring bodies in your vision. A few stopped to greet you, and engage in conversation is pressing their advantage, though you were polite. There wasn’t much to look forward to – the small array of ladies gathered around chairs and carpets would surely do more to discomfort you than engage you in something meaningful.

At the back of the tent, a low serving table lay with refreshments. For all your knowledge, Aegon never really did reign in his inhibitions – there was already a pitcher half-full, and a goblet half-drunk on it. Aegon was somewhere, possibly entertaining some few of his many Lordly friends.

The ache of love could not be quelled by friendship.

You sip your wine slowly. In times like these, left alone to your own devices and given the option to drink, engage or settle with some ladies, your mind tended to wander instead. You tilt your cup to your lips, the sight of the fruitful wine giving way to a faint image in your mind.

It was his twelfth name day. You remember it so clearly – waking up before the maids and selecting your frilliest, prettiest gown for the occasion, frowning and whining when they insisted different colours and styles, fashioned with embroidery or gems.

You had wanted it to be special for Aemond.

Being one of his most beloved childhood companions, you wanted every intention to count. You knew it mattered when you stepped into the gardens, dressed in a delicate green gown, with red-dotted jewellery to dot your neck and fingers. He had been standing there, waiting anxiously, and nearly fell face front when he approached you.

You look… really pretty, he had stuttered.

Thank you, Aemond, you had giggled, enjoying the way his tongue had turned liquid in his mouth at the sight of you.

The plans had been made that day – whatever he wished for. When breaking fast, he couldn’t keep a hold of his tongue as he clutched your palm and led you hastily down the halls of the Red Keep. He knew that the day would entail later; extravagance and little time. Little time for you, and the thought soured his mind.

First, there was the clearing near the woods. He didn’t mind the presence of the knights trailing behind much, and neither did you. All he cared for was the feeling of perching his head nervously against your lap, fighting a smile as you braided flowers within his hair. It had been a sweet, long affair. Next, it had been the banquet dinner, and he had saved a space in the chair beside his own. His smiles never left you, his eyes always chasing your own, smiling bashfully when he did something worthy of impression to you.

And then, at the end of the day, past the pesky guards and the prying eyes of your parents – came the Dragon-pit escapade.

What if we get caught? Someone could see us, you voiced in worry, despite your eyes betraying the excitement broiling in your gut. Aemond had merely tugged at your wrist, boyish grip a little too tight for comfort, yet neither of you cared much.

No one will catch us, he smiled nervously, as though unsure of himself.

When the two of you tentatively descended the rocky steps of the massive crypt, you had held closer to him. Aemond tried to calm the jump in his pulse when your palm squeezed around his, or the way your shoulder bumped softly against the ridge of his back when the dark got too frightening.

Just stay close to me, he murmured. Though only a few centimetres taller than you, he was speaking with more confidence than what lay in him.

You had stayed close with a tight nod, your soft breath against his nape. He was scouring the darkness – the smell of Dragon-spit and smoke marred the air heavily, and the mechanical groans of a few of the pit’s creatures emboldened the darkness a little more. You clung to him even tighter, the silk of your dress pressing against his leathers. When the first dragon, however unrecognisable, had grown weary of your intrusion and lit its flame, you covered your eyes and ears. He had ducked you behind him, though he quivered just as much, and had covered you with both arms in an embrace.

Look, he had breathed.

And what a sight it had been.

Yellow climbed atop orange as dragon-fire spilled forth from a gargantuan throat of an unnamed dragon. It raised across the dark rock of the ceiling, lighting the space like a well-lit room, the heat bearing down against you like the summer season of the realm. Where there was fear, now there was also awe, as you and Aemond clung to one another. When the room dimmed, the two of you ran hand in hand above ground, falling atop each other in a hurry to rid of the pit’s darkness.

The added weight of you above him was barely registered, with your childish laughter filling the air in cacophonies, his hands a welcome weight against your hips. However that night ended, you do not remember. Did the two of you trek to the Red Keep in barely concealed laughter? Or did you peek at the stars when the guise of friendship had moved on to a tenderer feeling?

“My Lady?”

You blink like a fish out of water. Your wine is long gone, and you find yourself staring at the maid in front of you, who views you with the same sort of concentration, just a tinge of concern in her eyes.

It appears your thoughts might have drifted – Rhaekar had been fussing for you from the carpeted floor, barely able to sit still against the silk drapery and consoling maids.

“Forgive me—“ you begin, setting down your goblet and lifting yourself off the chair you had unknowingly seated yourself upon, approaching the child with a twinkling smile, “My sweet boy. Do you miss me?”

The boy babbles happily at your voice, recognising the soft tone of his mother’s voice. He clings to the collar of your blue silks, the embroidery against your collar being fisted in his little hands. You smile, entertaining the small boy as the maids watch with an affectionate smile.

From the corner of the room, Aemond watched. He always did – and he had been, especially now. His eye had lingered when you were day-dreaming. How twisted it was for an unreadable man of his station to desperately want to know the inner workings of another. He supposed he was this sort of man now – barred and unaffectionate, cruel by practice.

His duty to Helaena was just that. There wasn’t love, but a deep-seated admiration and bond with the quiet girl. He had been close with his sister, but he had never seen her as more – they had hardly sired heirs of their own. Targaryen customs had never repulsed him; he was no stranger to the much exercised practices of his house. But there was no deeper reason to feel more for her and the act of intimacy was hidden deep in his chest, unwilling to be made known to anyone but you. And she felt the very same with her own duty, seated in the far corner of the room, taken to her maid, who watches as she palms a spider carefully.

But you – God’s, you were different.

His childhood companion of when he was much too young to know of the atrocities of loss and shame, the one he chased with his eye alone and caught in a full room. He could abandon all feeling and you would still be in his chest, thudding place of his heart.

He could hardly tear his one, assessing eye off of you. Those silks, that draped off your form, curving against you in the places he wished he could memorise. Your hair wasn’t the silver of his Targaryen own, but a colour of your own – he had always admired it closely in childhood, perhaps another outlet of his devotion of you.

But now, watching you tend to your child, a child that he could easily confuse as his own, he felt something… in his gut.

He was that sort of man now – the sort of man who knew long ago of what he truly wanted.

“Trouble?” he asks smoothly, without much hesitation or emotion, as he crosses the room to stand beside you. His arms are folded behind his back, a habit he had developed with his roguishness, as he looks down at you.

You’re hardly surprised. You knew he would seek you out somehow – perhaps for conversation. It felt nice, for a moment, regarding him without looking into his eye and seeing the tension that lay within it, raw and confusing. You were forced to bury whatever you felt beneath lines of formality.

“He always is,” you smile at Aemond, dusting the front of your gown as you straighten to your full height, “Are you having a good time?”

“I suppose,” he hums. Brisk and short – you do not mind. You have grown used to that. But what makes your hair stand on edge is the look he gives you. Like he is studying you, trying to figure you out. His eye blinks towards the room, uncharacteristically relieved to find Aegon nowhere near, before he offers his arm.

“Walk with me.”

More demand than request, but his tone is not at all harsh and soft in his own way. Watered down and guarded but not forced, like it was nature to be with you so. Your heart flutters in your chest. There is no reason to deny.

“Lead the way,” you answer with a familiar smirk, which leaves a ghost of a smirk on his own lips. You leave the tent, arm warmly wrapped against Aemond’s own, after ensuring Rhaekar was satisfied with the stuffed renditions of dragons and the maids that coo at him when the drapery slides into place with your exit.

If the men assembled around the camp were surprised by your company, they made no show of it.

No protest rang as you and Aemond made for a thin path in the woods, mind anywhere but within the moment. The heat of your skin was warming his rib and arm, and the presence of him was making a familiarity dawn upon you.

Where there had been easy conversation in the past, there were silences and the light crunch of boot upon leaf. You didn’t blame him much – the change does not repulse you. He had always been a thoughtful boy in the past, and the silence had only grown. He tended to think more now, second guessing his words and choosing which words to best fit with you. He didn’t know where the two of you stood – was it fit to feel greedy even now?

The sounds of the creaking woods and crackling leaves are finally broken by his speech, “How are you?”

You look at him with mild surprise, a soft smile on your face as you regard him. His one eye is genuine as it looks upon you.

“Do you want the truth or something soft-sounding?” you jest, but he merely breathes softly.

“You know what I want,” he states with not so much as a smile, but his tone is light. Did you know what he truly wanted? Perhaps not. It would frighten you, surely.

“I am well. Rhaekar left me a little exhausted and sore, but the recovery has come along well,” you answer, “Truly, I am well.”

He pushes his luck, “And your marriage?”

It should surprise you, but it doesn’t. He’s always been eager at his hand, no matter how much restraint he had learnt over the years.

You sigh through your nose, “My duty, you mean. It is… not as horrible as it ought to be. Aegon is… well, Aegon. We perform what we must. He is a friend to me, in a way. No lover. But… it is good, I suppose.”

Something about the mention of a satisfactory marriage with his leech of a brother had his mind boiling with anger. He didn’t expect – much less hope – for you to be miserable. No, he was never that cruel to you. Perhaps to others, but not you. But the smell of friendship unnerved him. It was how he was taken to you – would Aegon follow that same path, find himself infatuated and easily claim your heart as it was already done legally through marriage? Would he standing by the sides when time would run out?

“Hm,” he repeats, monotone. He was clenching his fists, you notice, and visibly stiff against you. Something had angered him, and you wouldn’t just sit around to find out.

“What is it?” you ask, a frown on your face.

He takes note of it, almost wanting to press his index finger against the middle of your brows, to see the frown dissipate. But he held his hands back – that greed would get the better of him.

He steels himself, stopping by a large tree. It looms above the two of you, like a sledge-hammer, the roots taking place underneath your feet in bumps and ridges. The leaves are speckled across the vast amounts of branches, green and white in the cold sunlight. But the gaze he gives you is enough to warm your insides for good.

“It irks me,” he speaks truthfully for the first time in years, and for once, it feels freeing. His conscience is still heavy, “Your marriage with the… likes of him.”

You pause. This was traversing some grounds, this stupefying discovery and suspicion. Your vows and your duty flit through your head like the numerous scrolls in the Sept, the weight of the realm atop your shoulders. You had seen him in similar lights, but the truth almost made him vulnerable, angry. Fear griped at your chest, as you look at him like he was strange for saying such a thing.

“Well, it shouldn’t,” your voice is wary, a swallow diminishing the flurry in your belly, “We have a duty to uphold. Me, to Aegon. You to Helaena.”

He comes to a halt beneath one of the branches, disgruntled in a way that you cannot see. Aemond feels his tongue slacken in his mouth, the weight of another man’s anger resting in his body – or was it his? Hidden and barely known, even to himself? Was it the anger, the bitterness, that he held as young child, now refusing to be shown?

You notice his stiffness, but make no move to coax him out of him. He had to snap out of it.

“You have Helaena,” you repeat, softer if only it would soothe whatever line he was transgressing, “She is your lady wife.”

He scoffs. It is a sound that catches you off guard. In the past, he would have conceded and offered a hasty apology. Or perhaps in reluctance. But he was brash now, bolder. His shoulders squared, as his head moved an inch to look back at you, silver tresses spilling over the jerkin he wore.

“Helaena. She is my dear sister,” his voice is blank, “There was never any sort of love there. You know that.”

Your eyes widen. He was being truthful, more than usual. He was unravelling, surely, and the coldness of the forest sears away to be replaced with a warmth that nips at your heel. His eye only holds some light of anger and truth, never fear – but that is within him, refusing to be shown.

You look at your feet, distractedly picking your gown up from an edge of a root, “She is your wife, nonetheless.”

The words work more to anger him – you know this because a piece of his jaw sets in place, and he fully turns to face you. He had always been a head taller, but now, he was towering above you. Looming. The tree barely intimidated you as such – regal beauty closing in on you like Valyrian smoke.

“She is my wife,” he begins again, voice low. He approaches you, and you move backwards on cue. He stops upon notice, a sharp breath breaking the silence, “But you—“

“But me?” your voice is incredulous, “What about me? What am I to you but a friend from childhood—”

He moved closer, and you lose some semblance of control as he crowds your space. Your back presses against the bark of the large tree, uncomfortable and poking against the soft length of your gown. But you do not care, and neither does he. His fingers almost reach up to touch your arm, but he doesn’t dare. Not yet.

“Do not fool yourself,” he sneers, one eye looking down at you in a way that burns your skin once again, “You are more. You might have not known, but I did – you’ve always been more.”

His fingers finally concede, tracing the gooseflesh on your elbow as you twitch under him. Your eyes are wide and shocked, but you do not make a move to stop him, nor his words. He knows you are a proud lady by nature – you could easily make quick of this conversation and never return to him. But your eyes hold the truth. You’re half curious, as you are fearful and just as selfish as him, though you think of yourself better at hiding it. He smirks slightly.

“You should have been mine,” his eye searches your face, his finger trailing up to touch the side of your chin, a touch too soft.

If the bottom of your stomach hadn’t dropped before, it definitely had in this very moment. The leaves rustle softly as you feel your back scratch against the bark, your face warming where he touches you. The two of you are crossing a line, the both of you, because you make no move to leave. You lean into his touch ever so slightly, seeking for the warmth that lies there. Targaryens and their heat.

“We mustn’t,” your voice is weak, barely a deterrence, but you try anyhow. You know better than to give into the urges, the fears and hopes that belonged to a whole different time. A time where the two of you were much younger, and ignorant in a sweet sense, making light of the weight on your heart. But now, festering all throughout your adolescence, it had begun to take root, “We belong to others—“

Aemond makes a sound between a grunt and a scoff, as he traps you against the bark. His hands loop around your waist, the touch dangerous and a tell-tale warning of yourself and him, too, in a sense. But he doesn’t losen his hold, and you sigh shakily as he hauls you closer, chest to chest.

“We belonged to each other long before we belonged to others,” he manages in a ragged tone. In a tone that suggests that you knew better, just like he did, and that it was no better playing the fool. You supposed he was right – it was out in the open, and the two of you were chest to chest, like he’d tear your gown open and make love to you in the solace of the forest alone. Not much to hide now. Not much to disguise.

But still, you try. You pretended to not know better.

“That was in childhood—“ you struggle against his arms, heavy breaths stifling your lungs like sea-smoke as he comes so close, too close. His lips are at the corners of your own, his one eye so close as to depict the many different etches in his eyepatch, “I am your brother’s lady wife now.”

He tightens his hold around the small of your back, and you fail to ignore the warmth that builds all over. You are beginning to feel fuzzy, to let go of all your inhibitions, your restraint. And he was too.

“The laws of matrimony were forged by men,” he speaks smoothly against your lips, “They mean nothing to me—not when it comes to you.”

Your last ditch effort to deny crossing the line is futile – you sharply move your face away from him, the sight of his face ripping away from your line of vision. It proves to be a poor effort, because he merely grunts, grabbing your cheeks with his calloused digits and shifting it back to where it was before. It is almost violent in a way, if it weren’t for the tenderness in which he looked at you.

Every breath feels heavy, and your hands come to rest against his chest, not knowing whether to push or pull. Your restraint was slipping, and there was little to stop you now. You could barely deny yourself, let alone him.

“Look at me.”

The order is so simple and you curse at how your eyes float to his. It was such an easy thing – finding his eyes in the harrowing darkness of the Dragon-pit, peering into his good eye and trying to ignore the blood and gore that marred his other, trying to discern his thoughts with a look alone. You had looked so easily.

And he knew. God’s, Aemond knew it.

The truth lay in them, as they had all along. Even with one eye, he was left blinded. How could he have let the pretence of your duties hold him back, when you were there for the taking?

You knew it too – the lack of such a burn was abysmal in your own marriage. The presence of it now left you cloudy brained, hazy, and you couldn’t navigate the barest of thoughts. Before, caution would have been exercised. Now, there was an utter lack of it. A lack of patience, a lack of restraint, and a lack of all of which made you and Aemond.

With a slow pace, you let slide your hand against the nape of his neck, slowly trailing up and feeling the long strands that lay there, pale and silver against your fingers. You had once told him that it reminded you of star light. The truth stood now, even in the barely concealed brevity of your fingers. Not that you cared.

All restraint that the Prince had once retained in childhood snaps like a string and he surges forward. His lips are rough and a clatter of teeth, gum and tongue. He is not a patient man – so when he angles your head and licks against your lips, you keep your lips sealed for the thrill of it. Nevertheless, he wrenches your mouth open with his tongue alone, wrapping around your own like a muscle well-trained, noting every sigh and moan that escapes you.

His hands are all over you. There is surprise in the way it trails from your neck to your nape, to the back of your head and down your hip, his fingers thumbing your breast in the decline. You shudder against him, and he swallows your groan in earnest.

“So eager,” he drawls, though the need is thick in his voice, “I thought your vows meant more to you than this?”

“Fuck you,” you bite back, a strangled moan leaving you seconds later, as his fingers dive beneath your skirts and thumb your slit in a slow swipe. The words of retort die in your throat as you clutch fiercely to his shoulders, his pressing weight being the only source of support.

He smiled, tracing your bottom lip with his tongue, “You’ve always had a filthy mouth on you. A lady no less.”

No amount of breath could have braced you for the way in which his fingers dipped beneath the smooth fabric of your underwear, slipping past the pubic hair that lay there and catching your pearl in a tight-rounded flick. You moan in a way he hadn’t yet heard before, and his heart clenches uncomfortably. He had only ever felt such exhilaration when atop Vhagar, mapping the expanse of King’s Landing below. But he is greedy now – he knows that he can be.

He mouths a quiet ‘fuck’, as he positions his fingers in a way that breeches you so barely, before burying a long, lithe finger within you. He is not prepared for the way you buck against him, the broken syllables of his name leaving your lips – almost desperate. Did Aegon know that he was claiming his own wife so, with his fingers alone?

When his fingers ease you open enough, one too many to wrench just sighs out of you, he retreats his hand from your small-clothes. You whine at the loss of his warmth, the absence of the ball of his palm against your clit that warmed the wet flesh just right. He simply smiles, taking your earlobe into his mouth.

“Patience, ñuha jorrāeliarzy,” he purrs against the expanse of your throat. The odd, old language blends into his usual use of the common tongue, and you do not know how it excites you so. Perhaps the premise itself is so debauched – your childhood companion and the brother of your own husband dragging your own slick back and forth across your cunny, in the solace of a forest.

It only clicks after that he called you his love.

You can barely digest that thought when he barely steps back. His fingers hook against your small-clothes and yanks them down harshly, the fabric lying wet and soaked slightly between your legs. You feel no shame – you wish you did, because some clarity would do you some good. Instead, you hurriedly help him unlace the buckles of his leather, laces of his breeches. They lower enough to let his cock to spring free, sinful and dangerous as he presses the weight of him against you, dragging it across like a damn tease.

“Please,” you plead, breaths ragged and poor. He smirks, arms hooking under your shoulders to pull you closer against his chest.

“Your words, sweet girl,” he coos. The smirk that tears his face is devilish – you almost cower, if not for the lust clouding your system, the decade long affair boiling between you both.

“I need you to—“ you struggle at a swipe of his cock-head against your slick entrance, “I need you to—to fuck me.”

“Is that so?” he asks, amused, as he begins to press into you. So, so close, yet not enough.

You nod tearfully, “I need you—I’ve always needed you, and you’ve always known. I wish it was you. I wish we would have wed—“

The moan that rips through you is entirely his fault. The sharp way he breeches you, in one harsh moment – his fault. But who could blame him? The thought of you so desperate to change the course of fate, to be bound to him by matrimonial vows, makes his stomach burn. He knew he was a hypocrite – he had just sullied and mocked them, but if you were his by law, he would have made it count.

“Wanted you forever,” he grunts against your ear, cock spearing through you and splitting you in half against the bark of the tree. The bark bites into your back, and your hips begin to burn. He smells of Dragon-scale and fire. He must have ridden Vhagar sometime this week – it makes you clench tightly around him, as he stutters, pushing in deeper, “I would’ve wed you in a heartbeat, if not for those fucking duties.”

You aren’t faring any better than him, moaning and whining as he ploughs into you, holding you up with his strength alone as he batters you endlessly. He speaks again, pleasured at the sight of you so wordless, “Don’t care much for that. You’re mine. You’ve always been mine. My insolent brother would do good to remember that—fuck.”

You clench against him again, “Aemond—“

“Could spill my come in you now,” he pants, angling your hips to reach further into you, like he was taking the good parts of you and sullying them, just so he could lay his claim on you, “That fool would never know—you’d be round and swollen with my babe and he’d never fucking know—”

Excitement and fear gripes at your heart, as you look up at him in slight alarm. But you cannot help but entertain the thought – the mere thought of him laying claim on you so viciously, a formidable dragon in his own right, not caring for whatever that kept you apart. Gone was the boy that feared overstepping, that feared distance. Here was a man that would make space if he wished for it, lay claim on you because he craved you so.

With a strangled call of his name, you bite his shoulder firmly – not enough to cause hurt, but enough to have him grunt – as you near your release. A creamy ring forms around the base of his cock when he looks below, and he knows the sight is his undoing. He is close – so close.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” he taunts, yet spears in harder, “You’d like that so much.”

You can only nod helplessly, lost to the sensations swimming in your veins. He grunts through a wrangled moan, aroused by the way you let him.

It isn’t a surprise when you come first. It is a goal of his – as a man, to bring you ecstasy, before his own. But when he does come, it is deep within, a warmth that fills your body as he spills his seed deep inside your cunny. The two of you struggle against each other with ragged breaths, and his hand settles against the small of your back again, the touch leaving an impression.

“You’re insatiable,” you groan, though playfully, as you watch the product of his come drip from beneath you. He barely gives you any words, as his fingers collect the slick and quickly stuff the escaping wetness back in, ignoring the way your hips twitch away from him. Sensitivity. It makes him smile cruelly.

“Don’t you waste a bit of it,” he speaks, voice a drawl, thick with want. The weight of the truth lay between you two, but there was no need to navigate such a thing. You had known long, long before, even buried it underneath lays of flesh and bone.

He helps you dress again, and then himself, quick and expertly, your small-clothes containing the eager spill of his seed between your thighs. You do not miss the way his one eye glitters with some dangerous sense of pride, how he kisses your neck only so slightly. You smile, laughing softly, as he curls into the side of you, claiming a part of you and aiming for more – until you smell of nothing but Dragon-smoke and sweat.

“Let’s head back, before the others grow suspicious. For good reason,” you tug at his arm, your smile a balm against the ruined convictions of his past.

He offers a rare smile, letting himself be led away by you, just like in childhood, “Let’s.”

There was no need to fret the words – the two of you have always known, in some sense. Perhaps you’ll figure the future out sooner than you had before, with the added weight of him against your body.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen drabble #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen fic #hotd fic

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hannahbarberra162 · 2 months ago

Text

Snow Fall, Part 3 (Alpha Izou x Omega Reader)

18+ MDNI |

The other chapters

Thank you to @gouraminnow for beta-ing <3

The little Omega had settled into life on the Moby much faster than Izou had expected. After bringing you on board, you stood at Izou’s side and bowed parallel to the ship’s deck. Izou’s face was impassive as he sought his Captain’s approval for your presence on the ship, but his heart filled with pride at your display of courage. He’d seen grown men quake and quiver before Whitebeard but you never wavered.

“Captain, this is Tasuke. She is originally from Wano but I have rescued her from the island at which we are docked,” Izou said with a stiff bow of his own. He was speaking with more formality than he usually did but he was worried Oyaji might not allow you to remain. Oyaji wasn’t generally in favor of Omegas being on board due to the numerous Alphas on the crew. Izou hoped Whitebeard would allow it but he might have to plead his case.

Whitebeard looked over at the island, the majority of which was now ablaze thanks to a pleased looking Ace who was happily munching a rack of meat and watching the destruction. “Is her rescue reason some of the island is now on fire?” Whitebeard asked, glancing again as a fireball blew up into the sky, making Ace cheer.

“Yes,” Izou stated simply. “Though not all of it has been destroyed,” he added as an afterthought. He didn’t think Ace blew up the entire island, just most of it. In Izou’s opinion they deserved it for aiding and abetting your slavery. Whitebeard grunted to show his disinterest in the fate of the island. Izou’s many years of service under Whitebeard had granted him certain privileges and not being questioned about some of his decisions was one of them. If Izou had let Ace off his leash, Whitebeard trusted that it was for good reason.

“Is she an Omega?” Whitebeard asked as he stared at the small woman in front of him. Izou shouldn’t have been surprised Whitebeard could detect your designation even with your nearly undetectable scent - Whitebeard had a preternatural knowledge of many things, including people’s designations without smelling them or being told.

“She is,” Izou stated, hoping that it didn’t mean he would have to leave you at the next island. Whitebeard was a pirate, but he was honest and fair in a way that aligned with a strong moral code. He wouldn’t have made you remain on the island Izou had rescued you from but it wasn’t a guarantee that you’d be able to remain on the ship.

“Does she speak Common?” he asked as Taskue straightened but kept her face averted from the Captain. Izou put his hand on the small of your back in a tacit show of support.

“Not much. She knows a handful of Common phrases but I believe she was purposefully kept ignorant in order to maintain her in a perpetual state of servitude,” Izou explained to his Captain. Whitebeard looked you over before inclining his head ever so slightly.

“ It is a pleasure to meet you, child, ” Whitebeard intoned in Wanese. You blinked a few times trying to hide your surprise at the Emperor’s knowledge of your language.

“ Thank you for allowing me on your ship, Emperor,” you replied, bowing even deeper.

“Are you staying with us?” Whitebeard asked, tilting his head slightly in question. The gesture was typical of Wanese conversation and Izou wondered when Whitebeard had picked it up since Izou had never explicitly taught it to him.

“Ah, I’m not - I’m - whatever you wish, Emperor,” you replied, your head still bowed.

“Enjoy your time aboard my ship, child,” Whitebeard replied, effectively dismissing both you and Izou. Izou took your smaller hand in his own and led you away from Oyaji and back towards the bow of the ship. You walked with your back straight but it was difficult to have an audience with Oyaji if you weren’t used to it and you’d have a comedown soon. Leading you under the deck, Izou brought you towards the kitchens. The ovens ran at all hours of the day and night to accommodate the enormous crew, so you could warm up while you got accustomed to the ship.

“I think that went well,” Izou said, offering you a hot mug of tea that was conveniently located close to Izou’s favorite seat. He’d have to thank Thatch later for the thoughtful gesture and anticipating your needs. You nodded and accepted the tea, sipping slowly. The Alpha in him was pleased to see you accepting his help, but the man knew it was only a cup of tea. He wanted to provide so much more, and he would in due time. “Whitebeard is allowing you to stay as long as you’d like,” Izou explained as you blew on the hot tea. You hummed a response but didn’t say anything directly. You just experienced a significant change in your life and Izou wanted the transition to be as smooth as possible.

“How does Whitebeard speak such excellent Wanese?” you asked, holding the warm mug in both hands as you huddled over yourself. Izou wanted to pick you up and deposit you on his lap to warm you, but refrained in the presence of others. Izou reached for the tea pot and a mug to pour himself a cup of jasmine tea as well. However, you grabbed the handle before he could and poured him a mug, handing it to him before he could stop you. Izou sniffed for a note of fear or insecurity in your scent, but your eyes were still focused on him. It must have been muscle memory that had you to serving him without thinking about your actions. Maybe he should tell Ace to burn the entire island.

“Kazuki Oden taught him during Oden’s time on the crew. After that, we became conversation partners here and there as time allowed,” Izou explained, your eyes going wide.

“Were you here at the same time as Oden? On the crew?” you asked excitedly, setting your cup down. Cute, Izou thought to himself. He set his own mug down and put his chin on his hand.

“Mmh. I joined with him, in fact. I was his retainer, I followed him from Wano,” Izou said, watching your eyes fill with stars and your face turn red. You looked down at your hands, unable to look at his face any longer. Izou laughed lightly and brushed his thumb over your cheek. “Do not apologize for whatever it is you feel that you have done inadequately. I am the same Alpha I was five minutes ago,” he stated, watching your blush rise up to your ears.

“I just…you - you’re - thank you Alp - Izou,” you said, bowing your head down to the table.

After Whitebeard had given his blessing, things had gone rather swimmingly by Izou’s estimation. His room was one of the larger Commander cabins, large enough for two people to live rather comfortably. You initially insisted on sleeping on the floor but Izou hadn’t allowed it for a single moment. The two of you shared the same bed, much to Izou’s delight, though you both kept your clothes on. He suspected by the way you jumped at loud sounds and the hunched manner you carried yourself that you would need time for your body and mind to internalize that you were safe, even if you thought it already. It didn’t mean he didn’t want to - every fiber of his being desperately wanted to roll you onto your stomach and take you like an animal - but he maintained his self control.

You’d become very busy on the ship, very quickly. As Izou had anticipated, Thatch gladly accepted your expertise in the kitchen. Despite not speaking much Common, the kitchen was a place where communication could easily be understood by miming techniques and showing ingredients. Your Common vocabulary exploded as the fourth division taught you the names of utensils, tools, vegetables and fruits, and other cooking related terminology. You adapted to being a line chef well and didn’t need much training in the dishes that the crew favored.

Izou started spending a little more time in the kitchens as his schedule allowed, watching you work and interact with the fourth division. You were kind, patient, and eager to learn anything anyone would teach you. Izou tried to give you space to stand on your own but it was hard when you looked so cute in your apron, listening and nodding when Thatch was teaching you something new. Thatch had begun to rib him now that he was in the kitchens frequently, which Izou took in stride. He’d style his hair like Thatch’s if it meant that he could watch you work.

To everyone’s delight, you also began cooking Wanese food for the crew. At first it was just for Izou - smaller dishes that you’d present to him personally at meal time. You’d bring him te dishes and scurry off, watching him eat from behind the galley door to see if he liked the food. He always did and insisted you sit with him for a few moments each meal so he could compliment the food - and the chef - personally.

Soon there was a lot of interest in the traditional Wanese dishes you were bringing him, to the point where Izou was lucky to get two or three mouthfuls before his brothers were each coming to “try a sample.” Ace quickly conned his way into getting his own plate of your dishes, making you smile in delight as he inhaled everything you gave him. Izou knew how he overcame the language barrier - it was those sweet puppy dog eyes and cute freckles that made you sympathetic to his eternally hungry stomach. Ace was too young and not emotionally ready for an Omega but the thought of the younger Alpha honing in on his Omega made Izou want to stab the young Commander - and not with a fork.

Eventually Thatch and Izou were able to convince you to share your recipes so they could be multiplied many times over for the crew to enjoy. You were hesitant, unsure that the crew would like the food, but Izou’s gentle coaxing had you showing Thatch how to make kiritanpo and helping set up a massive amount of imoni for the crew to enjoy.

After the crew ate, Izou and Thatch had each and every one of the ingrates come up and thank you personally. Izou stood next to you as everyone expressed how thankful they were for the food you had given them while allowing you to partially obscure yourself behind him. He could only imagine how overwhelming it was to hear hundreds of thank you’s in a language you didn’t understand but it was important for the crew to respect you for the work you provided. It didn’t hurt that every one of the crew would see you clinging to Izou’s arm as they thanked you, further detracting any competition from the crew’s many alphas.

Izou soon discovered that there was a softer side to your presence on board as well. As an Omega, you had a natural instinct to want to care for others and provide comfort. Izou never insisted that you take care of anything or anyone, but one morning you came to him, gripping your lacquer comb in your hand as he read over his daily reports before heading to work.

“Ah, Izou. I was, ah…wondering…I wa - may I, um, mayIpleasecombyourhair?” you said in one big rush with a bow, gripping the comb so hard Izou thought it would crack. Izou had been reading on the couch in his room, running his fingers through the hair that was draped on one of his shoulders. Setting down the reports gently, he considered the smaller Omega standing submissively before him.

“Of course,” he said simply, making room on the couch for you to sit. You sat down behind him slowly and he felt his long hair being pushed behind his shoulders to rest against his back. You began combing his hair and Izou feigned nonchalance as he didn’t want to startle or upset you. In reality, he felt like purring when your small fingers touched his hair and brushed it to your heart’s content. Izou had always taken great pride in his hair and he considered it time well spent as you admired it.

“Your hair is so beautiful, Comm- ah, Izou,” you said, correcting yourself as you spoke. Izou had directed you a few days prior to drop the respectful epithet when you came aboard, wanting you to get more comfortable with him personally. It had been challenging for you at first but Izou had gently corrected you until you were referring to him by his first name more often than not. You still referred to the other Commanders by their title, which he selfishly didn’t tell you to stop, enjoying that he was the only one you were comfortable enough with to say their first name.

“Thank you, Tasuke. I appreciate you tending to it for me,” Izou said lightly, opening his reports once more and pretending to read. In fact, he was expending all his effort to conceal his growing erection from you. If his brothers ever found out he got hard from you combing his hair, he’d never live it down, he thought to himself. You continued to work at his hair for several minutes, humming quietly to yourself while immersed in the undertaking. All too soon, the task had been completed to your satisfaction as you gathered his long hair in your fist.

“Would you mind if I styled your hair, Co- I-izou?” you asked hesitantly, almost unwilling to let go of the silky strands still being brushed out gently.

“As you wish,” Izou replied, now sitting up fully so you could properly style him. Having you attend to his hair reminded him of his theater days as a child, when he’d have his hair and makeup done before performances. You stood up and grabbed a few items off his vanity, bringing them back to the couch.

“I am familiar with your preferred hairstyle, may I prepare your hair that way?” you asked, now hesitating as Izou smiled at you.

“Please, it would bring me immense pleasure,” Izou replied, settling in on the couch. You returned his smile with a small one of your own as you stood in front of him and began the traditional process of waxing his hair. It was a very painstaking process and truthfully Izou was thankful someone else was doing it for him. He didn’t mind the process generally but it felt so much better to have you close to his body and fussing over him. Once his hair was waxed, you then moved into tying his hair into knots and pinning them down, your deft fingers flying through the process as if you’d done it hundreds of times. You worked in silence and Izou dutifully continued pretending to read his reports.

“You are very handsome, Izou,” you commented with a flush once you were done with the work. Handing him a mirror, Izou admired your handiwork in his reflection and was proud of the work you’d done.

“Only due to your clever hands,” he replied, opening your curled hands to kiss your palms. You flushed from your chest to your ears, which Izou found unbearably cute.

The two of you slowly settled into a daily routine in which you would do Izou’s hair and makeup for him before working hours. It soon became Izou’s favorite part of the day both because it was relaxing and because all of your attention was focused on him. You’d also started cleaning his room and doing his laundry, which Izou tried to put a stop to. However, you were starting to show some tenacity and stubbornly refused to let the Commander launder his own clothes as he had been for years. He watched you wash and dry his kimono carefully, taking better care of them than even he had. Izou really didn’t want you working harder on his behalf but he would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy having his scent draped over you.

It was getting harder for Izou to avoid marking you or claiming you for his own. Night after night, you slept within arm’s reach, your beautiful form and scent calling out to him like a siren. Izou had heard whispers of a betting pool - some crew were betting he’d already marked you in a secret spot on you while the other half were betting that you weren’t even an Omega in the first place. What happened between the two of you wasn’t anyone’s business but his teeth yearned to sink into your neck as you lay beneath him, calling his name in ecstasy.

One morning, you had already completed his hair and were working on his makeup. The lipstick brush was in your hand as you applied the finishing touches to his lipstick. Putting down the brush, you studied his face carefully, turning it this way and that in your hands to ensure that his final look was exactly to his liking. Izou was about to compliment your perfect work when you suddenly leaned in and brushed your lips against his own.

Izou was stunned - he’d never thought you’d summon the courage to do anything so brazen. He was so shocked he didn’t say anything for a moment. Your eyes widened once you realized what you had done and you stood up to bow in front of him, nearly falling over in your desire to explain yourself.

“I - I…I’m so sorry Commander!” you cried, tears already forming in your eyes. “I knew you didn’t want me to, I don’t know what came over me. P-please don’t kick me off the ship, I’ll move out of your room, I’ll sleep outside, I’ll -”

“Shh, stop,” Izou replied, tugging you onto his lap. You sniffled but allowed him to settle you across his lap where he could calm you down. “What do you mean, ‘you knew I didn’t want you to?” he asked, wiping your tears away. You looked down at your hands that were twisting into your clothes in worry.

“We spend every night in the same bed like mates, but you never…reach for me. I know I am plain and unscented, I dare not think someone like you would want someone like -” Izou cut off your explanation by wrapping a hand around your neck and pulling you to him, pressing his lips to yours. You were hesitant and shy, unsure how to respond to Izou’s tender kiss as he kissed you thoroughly. You placed your hands on Izou’s shoulders, unsure what to do with them as he continued kissing you. Izou led and you followed as he gently coaxed kiss after kiss from you. At first you didn’t know what to do with your lips or tongue but Izou patiently kissed you time and time again, his tongue running against the closed seam of your lips. You opened them and Izou took his time exploring your mouth with his tongue as you shut your eyes in pleasure.

“Have you been kissed before?” Izou asked, now kissing from the corner of your mouth down to your neck. He was careful to avoid your scent glands even though he wanted to bite down - hard. Your shook your head, panting with need as Izou continued to kiss you.

“N-not like this,” you said, making Izou pause again. He was definitely sending Ace back to your home island. He could smell your arousal in the room, the spicy scent making his own pheromones rise in reaction. Keeping his mind on the present, Izou licked the shell of your ear, making you shiver.

“I haven’t been reaching for you not because I don’t want you. I want you very, very much, little Omega. I don’t reach for you because I don’t want to pressure you, I want you to feel free to choose the partner you’d like. It is not from a lack of desire, it is from a place of respect,” Izou whispered into your ear as his large hand splayed across your lower back to pull you closer.

“I w-want you too, it isn’t fair that you’re so beautiful,” you husked, now moving your hands to loop behind Izou’s neck. Izou was glad you’d painted his skin the familiar white otherwise you’d be seeing his blush at your words.

“That’s it, touch me. Explore my skin, my clothes, my hair. All of me is meant for you to touch,” Izou urged you. One of your hands flittered to his neck, your fingernails accidentally brushing his scent gland. He let out a small moan at the sensation; he didn’t want to stifle himself or his pleasure around you. Hearing the sound, you repeated the movement with hesitation, causing Izou to growl.

“Careful, little Omega. Otherwise we won’t just be kissing in a few moments,” he rumbled into your ear. You gasped as he playfully bit your shoulder and pulled you closer to him. A knock at the door had Izou rumbling from his chest as you scrambled off his lap.

“Yo, Izou, you’re late for once,” he heard Ace say from beyond the door while chewing on something. For Ace to have to come get Izou meant that he was truly late.

“We will continue this later,” Izou said, noting your kiss bruised lips and mussed hair. Smoothing out your hairstyle, he pressed one more kiss to your lips before standing and leaving for his Commander’s meeting. He hoped kissing would be added to your morning routine in addition to the hair and make up.

It was.

Izou reveled in teaching you how to kiss and how to be kissed. Izou figured out that you’d been treated roughly before, the primary method of kissing consisting of someone shoving their tongue down your throat without much input from you. Now, Izou was teaching you how to open your mouth to accept his own, how to return his kisses, and what to do with your tongue. You were a fast learner and kissing had quickly turned into heavy petting.

You and Izou would make out on his bed after you woke up in the morning, spending time together getting to know each other’s bodies over your clothes like horny teenagers. Izou was over forty and yet he couldn’t stop kissing you like he was seventeen again. You were hesitant to remove your clothing and Izou didn’t push, you’d let him know when you were ready. Izou doused himself in your scent every morning, licking and nibbling at your scent glands until you were grinding yourself on his thigh with soft keens tumbling from your lips. The diversions always began chastely, with sweet kisses to your mouth and cheeks, but ended with Izou's thigh slotted between your own as you ground on him over your clothes. up from your lips. It was driving you both crazy to be intimate without having intercourse, but Izou was willing to wait as long as it took for you to feel comfortable.

Once the ship passed your archipelago, the weather changed and the temperature steadily climbed daily. With the hotter temperatures, you grew increasingly uncomfortable, seeming to want out of your own skin. Dark circles appeared under your eyes and it was harder for Izou to rouse you out of bed in the mornings. You were sweaty and itchy but you insisted that you didn’t need to see Marco, that you were just busy and unused to the warmer weather after a lifetime on winter islands.

Izou wasn’t convinced that the weather was why you were looking more tired than usual; he was worried. He still saw you in the mornings and at night but something was amiss. Thatch said you took a break in the middle of the day, but you weren’t relaxing on deck or in his cabin like he thought you’d be. Izou asked Tate and you weren’t in the women’s quarters or bathing areas either. It had finally culminated in a day where Izou had to bring you tea in bed in the morning as you shivered from a cold sweat. Your scent had sharpened but Izou wasn’t sure if it was from the weather or from spending so much time near an unmated alpha like himself.

“Either I summon Marco, or I carry you to the infirmary. Which is your choice?” Izou asked in an unamused tone as he hovered near you while you sipped your tea.

“There is no need to worry, Izou,” you said with a small smile, reaching up to play with the end of his long hair. “Once I get moving I’ll be alright. I have much to do today, work that I cannot hand to another. I promise that if I’m not better by the end of the day I’ll visit Commander Marco,” you said softly. You drank the tea slowly and stretched under Izou’s watchful eye.

“I myself will accompany you to Marco’s office this evening,” Izou stated in a tone that brokered no arguments. You nodded seriously, then began to get ready for the day.

Suspicious about your ‘duties that could not be given to another’, Izou decided to follow you as you were dismissed from making lunch, trailing you quietly through the halls as you made your way deeper into the ship. You were heading down towards the second division quarters, covering a yawn as you passed Ace’s cabin. Izou’s guard was up - there wasn’t a reason you’d need to be down here when his division was on the other side of the ship and the kitchens were on a higher level. Of course, you were welcome anywhere on the ship but you looked like you needed a break or a nap, not going to who-knows-where. Izou continued to watch silently as you knocked on the door to the officer’s cabins for the second division.

The door opened and Teach welcomed you in, his large frame blocking out all light from behind him. He reached down to give you an enveloping hug, which you tolerated but didn’t return. He beckoned you inside, putting his hand on your back unnecessarily to guide you into the shared room but keeping the door open. You wrinkled your nose as he told you what he wanted done, nodding every so often to show you were listening. After a few minutes, Teach gave you another lingering hug and you set to work under his watchful eye.

You began taking the sheets off Teach’s bed, gathering the fabric in your arms. Izou had seen enough and entered the room, coming up behind you and took the bedsheets from your hands. You looked up at him in confusion almost as if you’d done something wrong. You started to wring your hands before Izou took them in his own to prevent your excessive worrying. Teach was watching the scene but didn’t say anything, crossing his arms while Izou spoke to you.

“What the fuck was she doing?” Izou asked Teach coldly. Even though the conversation was being conducted in Common, Tasuke had enough experience to know there was a confrontation happening. Izou glanced down at the Omega, who’s soured scent was now the acrid scent of fear.

“Go to my chambers, please. You’re not in trouble,” Izou said to you. You nodded and turned to leave but Izou still held your hands in his own. It would be awkward for you but he had some questions that needed answers.

“Has he ever hurt you?” Izou asked, squeezing your hand lightly.

“N-no. He makes me uncomfortable but he hasn’t done anything bad to me,” you said softly, looking at the floor.

“What does he do that makes you uncomfortable?” Izou prodded gently, bending down to catch your eyes.

“He touches me when he doesn’t need to, but other than that nothing really. I have no basis for my feelings,” you replied, unwilling to meet his gaze. Izou kissed the top of your head and sent you along the hallway back to his quarters. Once you were gone, Izou gave Teach his iciest glare.

“What’s the problem? She’s a maid, right? So I asked her to clean my room, change my sheets, do my laundry. She does it for you so what’s the big deal?” Teach said with a menacing grin, trying to put his large arm over Izou’s shoulders. Izou used the barrel of his gun to push the offending limb off his shoulders.

“She’s not a maid , ” Izou stated coolly, keeping his pistol in hand. He’d never liked Teach, even though Marco vouched for him, and seeing you cleaning another man’s quarters when you were obviously tired had Izou on edge.

“Coulda fooled me with the way she’s always fixing your room, brushin’ your hair, and washin’ your clothes. Guess she’s just yours to use? Or is it open season for any alpha? She’s not claimed after all, zehahahaha!” Teach ended his statement with a laugh even though nothing was amusing.

“She’s not for anyone to use ,” Izou said coolly as he seethed inside.

“So I can get her through the heat that’s coming? Even this one’s finally starting to get a smell, reminds me of home,” Teach said with a wide grin, showcasing his missing teeth. The man was technically an Alpha, but not the kind that Izou wanted to spend any time near. There was something off about Teach, something elusive and dangerous that made him want to bare his teeth and shove you behind him for protection. Izou growled in warning as Teach laughed his obnoxious laugh again.

“Do not talk to her again,” Izou ordered as Teach continued to laugh and threw his hands up like he was surrendering.

“So sensitive over one little Omega, they’re a berri a bunch,” Teach said with a shrug. “If not this one, you can rut over the next -” Teach’s eyes went wide as Izou sent a shot over his head into the ceiling above them. He couldn’t actually kill Teach since he couldn’t prove Teach was trying to get you to go into heat with his scent and Oyaji didn’t tolerate infighting. Izou had no doubt that Teach was having you handle his laundry and clothes in an attempt to innure you to his scent for when you went into heat. Izou would bide his time and perhaps Teach could be taught a lesson at a later time.

“ Do not speak to her again .”

Teach kept laughing but retreated back into his shared quarters, shutting the door behind him. Izou was still on edge but forgot the confrontation with Teach as he went to find his little Omega. Opening the door to his cabin, Izou was hit by the unmistakable scent of falling snow. You were curled up on his bed, clutching one of his kimonos in your hands, rubbing your cheek on the fine silk. Izou sat down on the bed next to you, noting the beads of sweat on your forehead.

“I’m sorry you had to see that. Are you alright?” Izou asked, cupping your cheek. You turned to face him, your eyes screwed shut.

“I feel strange, Alpha,” you whined, nuzzling into his large hand. Izou’s mind belatedly put the pieces together as he looked down at your smaller form. Teach had been onto something - your lethargy, the way you’d been so uncomfortable lately, the way your scent had been building on itself…

“You’re going into heat,” Izou stated, curling his fingers under your jaw. “It might be more intense this time since you’re around so many alphas,” Izou said, making you look at him. You whimpered, tears forming on your lash line. “It will be alright, little Omega, but you need to choose. You can go through it alone, though it might be painful. Or, if you wish, I can find a suitable alpha for you,” Izou gritted out. His alpha roared in displeasure at the thought of another taking care of you, but Izou wasn’t going to force anything on you that you didn’t want.

“I w-want you, Izou,” you said with a hiccup, reaching for him with your arms, discarding the kimono on the bed. “Please, Alpha.”

Taglist: @mfreedomstuff @animefreak818 @epochal-oracle @sparks0918 @rebeccawinters @one-piecelover

#snow fall #izou x reader #izou one piece #izo x reader #x reader #whitebeard crew #marshall d teach #I'm sorry :)#the smut will be next chapter #Izou is taking his time #he's a good boy #omega!reader #omegaverse #alpha izou #alpha Izo

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paddlescuddlesbubblesgurgles · 11 months ago

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Recent Changes

I have been experiencing some changes recently.

My belly is bigger. Finally outgrowing 4XLs. Damn. Goodbye so many favorites. It’s just getting thicker and rounder. I’ve had a massive apron gut for awhile, but now it’s just widening. Won’t be long now until 5XLs are my new normal.

My arms are fatter. Seriously. My shoulders and upper arms are getting so thickly flabby, it’s silly. They’re just pillowy soft slabs of meat. Getting really saggy.

My wrists are really squishy looking. When I bend them back there is a few little rolls / folds of skin that weren’t there. They’re chubbier. My hands are fatter.

My double chin is…turning into a roll almost. This one is embarrassing. It’s getting so much fatter. Just this blobby collar of squishy flesh around my throat. It’s silly honestly! It’s really starting to plump up. I’ve had a double chin for many many years but this is crazy. It plops over my throat and is almost on my chest.

My thighs have fattened up further than I expected. I can lay my legs on top of each other in bed and it feels like I’m hugging a pillow between them. Serious upgrade. They’re just soft, meaty, squishy beanbags. They’re always been pretty huge, this isn’t a big change really. they do wobble even easier though, and I noticed my hand just sinks in when I rest it on them.

My stomach’s capacity has been so badly stretched. I was so embarrassed recently when I was out with friends and ordered just one entree and it simply didn’t fill me at all. I vacuumed it up and was left so badly wanting. I felt practically empty! Turns out gorging every night has consequences.

Getting up is slightly more difficult. This is my own fault. Spending hours on end seated without standing up and just eating has major effects.

I’m wide enough now to fill large armchairs and half or 2/3rds of some couches. That wasn’t on my list. I’ve been filling lots of furniture for years, but now I’m filling the larger ones with ease.

I’m almost totally grown out of all the largest underwear at Walmart / Target. That is annoying because then I must order that too.

I’m realizing I’m no longer just fat, I’m huge. I’ve started to become not only the fattest person in the room, but often in entire public spaces. Store aisles and small shops are getting cramped. I’m the fattest everywhere I go usually, with other fat people seeming smaller. Now only real blobs are fatter than me. Am I…becoming blobby? I’m always the fat friend, often being heavier than 2 of my friends combined, sometimes 3.

I cannot wait to stuff myself later. I hope I can’t stand after.

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lotties-ashwagandha · 2 months ago

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LET IT BLEED AWAY BETWEEN US (part two)

(adult) lottie matthews x reader.

you’re adjusting to your new (and temporary) house together after lottie comes back, though remnants of the past still linger. read part one if you’d like, but this fic is understandable if you don’t.

“I’m going to talk to the bank at the start of the week. We can do away with this place,” Lottie gestures around the room, “and find something better.”

You are silent. This place isn’t your home, but it used to be — before the wellness center, before Lottie. She is oblivious to it, but this house has belonged to you for years even without being lived in for a while, because you considered it a good idea to keep a backup plan if joining a wellness center cult didn’t work out.

Your precautions are now paying off.

“I like it here,” you cross your arms. “We aren’t in a hurry to go anywhere.”

“This place is small,” Lottie zips up her makeup bag and sets it down at the edge of the bathroom sink, sparing a glance at you from where you linger in the doorway. “Why do you adore it so much?”

“It’s charming.”

“It’s not ours,” she steps toward you. “And we have the money for something better. We could rebuild everything that we had.”

It’s a proposal you are both well aware exists more as a dream than a possible reality. What you had is gone, and even if you were to regain it, it would be more haunting than anything. This place isn’t your home either, as much as you would like to pretend — you moved most of your things to the cabin you shared with Lottie back at the wellness center, and much is now gone.

She looks over at you, reaching a hand out for you to take. “Come here.”

You join her, looking into the mirror above the sink and meeting your own eyes. Lottie’s hands rest at your waist for a moment before her arms loop around you, her chin resting atop your shoulder.

You meet her gaze in the mirror. Her arms around you tighten slightly, she holds you close to her. It’s early in the morning, but you are overcome with the need to stay in the seclusion of your temporary home with her, to pretend the rest of the world doesn’t exist and that all you must face lies in her embrace.

Lottie presses a soft kiss to your shoulder, and when you close your eyes you are still in your old cabin together, and the light bleeding in through the window is sourced from endless woods. You are removed from responsibility, and she creates tasks for herself that align with her own interests, tending to the bees and leading meditations at the treeline.

You are restful again. It is easy to believe in it again, and you do not believe that your home was destroyed for nothing. You do not consider what stole your life to be a delusion, because you look into her eyes again and you see your same pain and loss reflected in them.

“This will be a good thing,” she says quietly — to reassure the both of you. “It has led us here.”

You will go along with it. You will sell your house, sell away your old dreams for something better. You clear your throat and begin to believe in her. “What are you looking for in a new house?”

Lottie smiles, prompting you to follow her as she steps out of the bathroom and continues through the house into the kitchen as she speaks. “We could buy anything. I would like to have something close to the city, but still with some natural elements— we could have a garden in the back.”

You pour her a mug of coffee, and then one for yourself. Hope blossoms within you at the prospect of a garden, even one much smaller than what you have grown used to. It is a part of yourself reborn. “We should decide on what we’re planting soon, so we can judge how much space we will need on the property.”

Lottie nods, and you notice the way her expression grows distant after she takes a sip of her coffee, like she can already see the house you’ll end up in. Her expression lights up. “We could buy a hot tub, too, a really nice one.”

“A hot tub?” You question. You wonder how much she really is willing to spend of what’s left.

“Imagine it,” she takes your hands in hers, towering above you with renewed enthusiasm, thumbs running over the backs of your hands lovingly. “It would be much easier to meditate in a hot tub, don’t you think?”

It would be, and maybe it’s a good place to start — you both need something to dream about.

With one of her hands having found your jaw she guides you to kiss her. Softness between you keeps you tethered to her, addictive in the way she holds you. You are one another’s escape, and though unsureness and residual anger still poison your peace of mind on occasion, they are easy to forget about in the blessings of her kiss.

hello hello lmk if we want part three, buying a new house and living happily after ever because episode four did not happen!

yellowjackets taglist: @webism @ahauandthesun @chaithetics @szczurkanalowy @cassioo

click here to visit my masterlist (taglist form is over there too + so is my ko-fi link + so is the link to my fandoms and request preferences).

#yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader #lottie matthews x reader #lottie matthews

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alexanderlightweight · 1 month ago

Note

Thank you for all the amazing writing you’ve been posting! This prompt can be sfw or nsfw

Married on the battlefield. What better spoil of war for Magnus to claim than the highest ranked soldier of the clave on the battlefield. The Especially since commander Lightwood makes such a pretty bride

i'm glad you're enjoying and thank you for the ask!! I cackled gleefully when I got it.

sooooo I have a few battle-marriage fic's already and decided to try something slightly different with this one. specifically it's also one of @queensaryn's plots that they handed over to me with some inspiration. the title is also from them ^_^ which is great because I sometimes agonize over titles and sometimes I'm just 'this makes me happy so that's what its called'.

Saeth has a lot of reasons they can't write right now but is very happy to share with me from his little treasure trove of fic ideas and i hope you enjoy this. you can always send me another ask if sentinel/guide isn't your thing tho!

<3 lumine

gladiolus

They should have called a retreat the moment the High Warlock took the field. But Alec’s parents refused, too intent on keeping this stretch of land, unwilling to let any more of the leylines fall into downworlder hands.

The territory controlled by shadowhunters in New York gets smaller every year, the downworlders encroaching bit by bit, leaving them with less areas to safely patrol — and less power that the Clave can control.

The Uprising had done exactly what Valentine wanted and upset the balance of the Downworld.

Just not in the way he’d intended.

When the treaty fell apart, the shadowworld had turned to chaos, downworlders no longer sitting idly by, no longer bound by a treaty where they had to let the Clave dictate what they could and couldn’t do. No, they’d risen higher than Valentine had ever managed they could and decisively ended the Clave’s stranglehold of power on the shadowworld.

And the shadowhunters — having grown from birth full of their own power and proud of it — none of them were prepared for the changes. Still struggling in a society and culture split in two by a civil war while the world changed around them, a catalyst born from the Uprisng.

For once, it is the shadowhunters who suffer from their own hubris.

So here Alec fights, on the battlefield that he knows holds no hope.

Alec knows that the High Warlock of Brooklyn has a special hatred for his parents, and every shadowhunter in New York has been paying for it. Their blood flows thick through the streets, their bodies clogging the sewers with angelic rot, unable to return to Idris let alone Raziel.

Alec grits his teeth as he fires another arrow. It sinks into the open maw of a werewolf and the corpse drops halfway through its leap through the air. Izzy shoves her hair out of her eyes as she nods thanks to him. Her braid is half undone. It looks like someone yanked on it or cut through it.

It’s shorter than it was when they both stepped onto the field.

He’s lost count of how many times he’s stopped his sister from getting overwhelmed by downworlders as she fights on the frontlines.

He wants to sound the retreat, but no one will listen to him over his parents. Alec might be a Sentinel, might be one of the most highly ranked warriors among his people but that means nothing in the chain of command. Not when he’s remained unbonded despite the numerous guides shoved at him, not a hint of a compatibility between him and any Guide he’s met.

So while he might not be outright ignored if he speaks, no one will follow his orders. After all, Alec isn’t an authorized Clave leader, blessed by Raziel with a proper bond and tied to his partner and the Clave with inescapable oaths.

No, he’s an unbonded Sentinel and useless for all but battle.

Here and now, Alec fights despite the hopelessness of it all. The despair that constantly threatens to sink him into the mire alongside the bodies of enemy and ally alike.

There is no other choice than to fight and to kill.

Until a pressure tears the field apart and as bodies drop around him Alec looks for the cause but as his sight connects with gold he finds that nothing else matters.

Except for the gold.

Consuming him.

—

Magnus can feel him.

Has felt him lingering on his senses, on the knife edge of the battle-awareness that fills Magnus’ veins with bloodlust.

It's a soul-deep lament, one that Magnus has rarely felt this strongly and never so sadly.

It’s not perfect, but it’s moldable.

A song begging to be taken and shaped into a smooth and lasting symphony rather than remaining untethered and adrift with chords that ring hollow and discordant.

It’s perfect in its imperfection.

“Take over for me.” Magnus doesn’t even look at Valois, ignoring everyone else as he focuses on the direction it’s coming from. “You will need to shield the reserves and be ready to protect those who fall.”

Valois says something, but Magnus doesn’t bother to listen knowing that his orders will be obeyed.

It calls to him, a siren song.

Tempts him and pulls him closer and he watches and waits for a moment longer before he makes his move.

Pulling his shields down is a simple thing.

What is not simple is the way every single being on the field drops like flies, alive but overwhelmed with the might of Magnus’ stretching out his mind and power.

Except for one being.

One man who stays not upright, but neither is he sprawled unconscious in the mud.

Instead he kneels in the battlefield, swaying slightly while enemies and allies lie littered around him.

Over eight centuries Magnus has gone without a Sentinel.

His powers woken as a young child defending himself from a man not his father by blood or deed.

Since then Magnus hasn’t met a single unbonded Sentinel who hasn’t been willing to beg him for a bond. Some called to him in turn, yet none had the disposition he required to seal his soul to another.

This one though, this one has no need to bribe, cajole or threaten.

Magnus can simply claim him for his own.

A bond between Guide and Sentinel does not need to be deep. While rare, warlocks have been known to have both a consort and a pair bond before. But Magnus has always wanted a bond that would remake his Sentinel down to their soul.

And now, here in the midst of a war he’s found a soul that is willing to be branded with Magnus’ mark and power

As he gets closer it’s easier to see exactly why — even conscious — his Sentinel makes no move. His eyes are large and focused only on Magnus, a sheen to his gaze that means one thing for a Sentinel and Magnus chuckles as he finally steps close enough to touch

“Did you zone out on my eyes, pretty boy?” Magnus murmurs to his Sentinel, his boy still kneeling in blood and muck and ichor and unresponsive except for a pleased rumble the moment Magnus’ fingers stroke up the bare skin of his neck and jaw. “Aren’t you delightful?”

Magnus tilts his Sentinel’s head up and leans down, coaxing a bloodstained mouth open and licking into his Sentinel’s mouth.

Sight. Scent. Hearing. Touch.

And now taste.

A full imprint, and despite how simple of a ritual it is, the bond snaps fully into place with a ravenous greed that only proves how desperate both of them were for the hollow, gnawing ache inside them to end.

Their souls meld together and Magnus chuckles, throwing his head back in a riotous laugh.

Because the Clave has lost now that he’s bonded.

Once again their own hubris has failed for no Sentinel will stand against their Guide, even one who is a nephilim.

And Magnus already knows that from this moment on, he will never need to restrain his own powers again.

AN:

in fanon it's typically the sentinels who are 'in charge' of the bond and that's not going to work for Magnus. especially with his position of power and personal trauma. he needs and wants a sentinel that will kneel for him and submit to him. not one that's going to be overprotective and try to boss him around 'knowing best for his own safety'. even the compatible sentinels who are not like that aren't willing to be claimed as deep as he wants or submit as far as he needs.

Alec's soul over here waving a flag and basically begging Magnus to reshape it as he wants as long as he never lets go.

Alec: this is hopeless. I am hopeless. life is hopeless. everything is... gold. everything is golden and bright and beautiful and i've never felt so at peace or devastated in my life

Magnus touching him.

Alec: I am no longer devastated just overwhelmed

#lumine writes #writing wednesday #writing wednesdays #gladiolus #magnus bane #alec lightwood #shadowhunters #malec

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byunpum · 11 months ago

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Back to you | Part 2

Pair: Jake(human and avatar) x Neytiri x Human reader (trio couple)

Warning: i think kinda sad. soft moments, maybe soft-smut in the future.

Note: Part 2 is here, I apologize for taking so long to upload it. There was a moment, where I changed a lot of things, I didn't want to make a long part. But soon I will upload part 3… btw, this story is based (it's like the prequel) of the mini series "mama's boy", I invite you to read it. I hope you enjoy this part a lot. Love ya <3

+Read 'Mama's boy' HERE+

AVATAR MASTERLIST | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 (final)

11 years ago…

The laughter and the atmosphere that wrapped around the family tree, the family members sharing and living with each other. It was something that Y/N loved with all her heart, a couple of months ago the clan had allowed grace to enter and interact with the clan. And with her was little Y/N, who was more than excited to share with her best friend, neytiri. Both girls had spent the whole day together, discovering the jungle, playing, and even taking naps on any branch. Of course, grace stayed in the clan. She occasionally looked up where you are, neytiri and you thought you were far away, but you are closer than you think. "Come, let's go ask Sempu," says Neytiri, holding her friend's hand. "You think they will say yes?" Y/N speaks, trying to keep up with neytiri. But the na'vi girl forgets that her friend is much smaller than her. Neytiri smiles at her friend, and keeps running towards her parents.

"They are planning something… I think it is necessary to warn the other clans" speaks grace. She was talking to mo'at, and neytiri's father. Both were responsible for the Omaticaya clan. "Do you think it is necessary… so far everything has been peaceful" says neytiri's father. "We have been peaceful…but you don't know what these people are like. There are humans…very bad ones," says grace. She knew the RDA was up to something…she had seen a lot of activity. She didn't want anyone to get hurt. "Mama!!!" shouts neytiri from far away. The adults changed their faces from one of worry to one of happiness when they saw the girls coming. Both girls run to their respective adults. Neytiri runs into her mother's arms and Y/n into grace's arms. You were a very young girl compared to the humans that were coming to Pandora. The only girl this young. Grace takes you by the arm and hugs you tightly. You liked it when grace was in her avatar body, she looked so cool. "What's wrong?" asks mo'at. Looking down at the little neytiri. The little girl gets up from her seat and stands in front of her mother. "Mama…Y/N can she stay over with me…with us?" asks neytiri. Waiting for her parents to say yes…she looks at her father with a big smile.

" you don't have to say," grace begins to speak, but is interrupted when little Y/N gets up from her lap and runs over to neytiri's father and hugs him around the waist. She hugs the man tightly and closes her little eyes. Grace tries to push the girl away, but neytiri's father laughs and caresses the little girl's hair. He had already grown very fond of Y/N, she was a very gentle creature, with a pure soul. "No, it's okay" the man speaks, looking for a moment at his wife. Mo'at gives him the look of approval. "sure…she can stay" says the man, listening as little neytiri screams with excitement. "We don't want to disturb" says grace. But mo'at refused. "Y/N don't disturb…she's practically part of our family" says mo'at. Neytiri jumps for joy, Grabbing her friend by the sides of her body, picking her up off the ground and running home. Grace stops y/n, looking for a moment at the oxygen machine, checking that everything was in order. After checking, she lets the girls run away. The adults try to stop neytiri, but both girls were so happy that only their giggles could be heard. "We'll warn the clans…but don't let them know anything" says mo'at, she was still watching the girls from afar. Grace only responds with a 'hmmm'.

Both girls arrived at the space where neytiri's family was resting. A large hand-woven hammock was tied tightly to the tree branches. Neytiri had helped her friend climb up the giant tree branches. Y/N had no problem with climbing things, of course. They both rushed to get the toys Neytiri had, pulling them all out and starting to play. Neytiri had the whole night planned. She was so happy. Neytiri had taken out a little bag with a surprise for her best friend. "Y/N look" says Neytiri, sitting down in front of her best friend. "What?" Y/N places the toy to the side, paying attention to Neytiri. Neytiri had spent a whole week preparing a gift for her friend…for her best friend. She wanted her to know how much she loved her, that she wanted her to always be by her side. To Neytiri, Y/N was everything to her, just another sister…she loved her very much. Neytiri opened the cloth bag, and took out some necklaces. They were a little big, but they still fit them both. "Here…this is for you!!!" said Neytiri handing the gift to her friend. Y/N pulled a giant smile on her face, accepting her gift without hesitation. Placing it around her neck, noticing how neytiri puts hers on as well. "It's a little big on us…but I want to give this to you, as a sign of friendship" neytiri says. "Thank you…thank you so much" y/n had teary eyes. Getting up from the floor, hugging her friend tightly. Neytiri was the only person who made her feel like she belonged to a family.

*Hit* (present)

Your eyes shoot open, when you hear the noise. You jump a little, getting out of bed to see what's going on. Jake had entered the room you all shared. You laugh a little, as you rub your eyes a little. "Sorry babe…I didn't mean to get you up" says Jake. "Don't apologize…I was supposed to be there to receive you" you get up. Reaching over to where Jake was, looking for a chair to sit next to him. You adjust jake's messy hair a little. "You look tired" jake speaks. "Excuse me…have you ever looked in a mirror" you joke.

Jake laughs, he knew he was sloppy. These last few months his only focus was to be part of the clan. And to get the best information for the RDA. And if there was one thing he had to admit it was that it had been very hard on him. Jake was continuing his lessons with neytiri, even getting grace to rejoin the clan. While norm was losing patience with Jake, because he didn't understand anything about the Na'vi language. You explained to him with a lot of patience…repeating everything as if he was a little child. And those little things were becoming routine for Jake, but at the same time he was getting confused. It was more than evident…that he was having divided feelings for both women.

"Everything okay?" you ask, watching as jake gives you a smile. Jake had gone silent and spaced out on himself. "Yeah…I'm just exhausted," Jake says. You move your hand from his hair, to his face to stroke his cheek. "You're so down…I know your avatar is better, but remember you're still here" you point out to jake. "I know…I just forget sometimes," jake says, nodding. "So you think my avatar is cute" jake tries to joke. "Sure…, I won't deny him that" you laugh out loud. After a couple of laughs jake looks thoughtful and asks. "Is it because he looks like tom?" says jake, watching your smile drop. "Well yes…but I think it was best if you took that body. You put it to better use." You joke. "I'm going to take that as a compliment babe, we were twins" jake laughs. "I know…that's what scares me" you laugh, settling back in your seat. "Hey…I need a favor from you" you speak up, pulling jake closer. He smiles at you, copying your movements. "I do whatever you want" jake speaks. You laugh a little. "I need you to bring your avatar to the lab tomorrow" you speak, noticing how jake is silent for a moment. "mmm I don't think that's going to make it possible" says jake.

"Please…do something to distract neytiri, I need to run some tests on your avatar. I haven't seen him in a long time, please" you pout trying to convince jake. He complains a little, letting out a small moan. "Ok…I'll see what I can do" says Jake, you come over and give him a hug. "Thank you…I'll be quick and as soon as I finish the routine tests, you go running to Neytiri's" you say. At that you both hear the door to the room open. "Am I interrupting something?" Grace asks with a raised eyebrow. The scene in front of her was very compromising to say the least. You are literally lying on top of Jake's body, even though you were still sitting in your chair. Face to face, talking so close. You pull away with a giggle. "No…I'm just asking jake for a favor..and he said yes" you speak up, getting up from your chair. "Oh yeah?" grace looks at jake, he was flushed red in the cheeks, shifting his gaze. "Well…I'm going to make some tea, do you want some?" you ask. Grace and Jake nod their heads and watch as you walk out of the room, looking very happy.

"You know that playing with both girls is wrong? Right?" speaks Grace, looking sideways at Jake. As she moved some things from her desk. Jake sighs, he knew grace knew everything that was going on. After all she was as much with the na'vi as she was with the humans. Grace had noticed the closeness that Jake and Neytiri had. And the closeness and looks that jake and y/n had. "You can't have them both…it's unfair" says grace. "Why?" jake asks jokingly. But he sees how grace's face doesn't change, this shames him a little and he looks down. "I don't want you to hurt anyone…they've both lived long and hard enough." Grace says without shifting her gaze from her papers. Jake paused before asking. He knew that grace knew your whole life…and that she knew what had happened between you and neytiri. And the curiosity to know was killing him, it had been about a month since he had asked neytiri about the necklace. He didn't want to investigate further…but he thought this was the best time.

"Grace?" jake speaks up, hearing grace reply with a 'hmm?' "How did y/n and neytiri meet?" jake asks, watching as grace gently drops the papers on the table. And turns to look at him. "I don't want a lie….they have a lot of things in common, and that necklace…it's" jake wanted to know what was going on. Grace sighs loudly, letting go of everything she had. Walking over to the chair where you were sitting earlier, right next to Jake. "Well…" says grace.

You had come to Pandora as a test subject when you were about 3 years old. Your parents had died in an accident on earth, leaving you alone in an orphanage. Your parents being RDA workers, the RDA took advantage of that and took custody of you. With the excuse that they would find you a good home…but that was just a lie. In order to continue their research. Their goal was to study the behavior of the clans with humans. And what better than to take a little girl. When you met Graces you were about 4 years old, the woman kept you by her side at all times, taking you as her own daughter. She knew the RDA plan very well, she thought it was a good idea, but she was unfamiliar with the dark side of the investigation. When she introduced you to the Omaticaya clan, you were the same age as Neytiri. It was more than obvious that the clan looked at you without fear, you were a little girl. Fitting right in with the clan.

"From that moment on… neytiri and y/n were inseparable… they did everything together. The clan leaders loved her as their own daughter…they even did the initiation ritual." Grace paused, swallowing a little saliva. "They loved y/n, as much as she loved them…but it didn't end well," says grace. "What happened?" asks jake. "Remember what I told you at school?" grace watches as jake ascends with his face. "Well, I missed a part…that day y/n was there, with neytiri and sylwani. They watched the whole thing, since that day they split up and haven't seen each other since" grace settles further into the seat. "I know Y/N wants to apologize, even though what happened that day had nothing to do with her. I know neytiri wants to see Y/N…but I don't know how they will react. There are so many things" grace is silent.

"So they separated them… but they miss each other. I've heard how they talk about each other," says Jake, still a little confused. "But they're afraid…and fear stops any courage they might have, only time will tell" grace speaks, smiling a little. Jake stands in contemplation, he could understand that feeling himself. "Oh…. why are you so quiet in here" you enter the room with the cup of tea in your hands. " It's all right dear…thank you" grace takes his cup and hands another one to Jake. The three of them stand there talking until sleep falls.

Norm had already gone to bed, grace climbed into his bed. And you were helping Jake up to his bed, he was very tired and couldn't lie about being weaker in the body lately. "Thanks babe" jake says, watching you close his wheelchair. "It's okay..I'm happy to help you" you speak up, fixing everything to climb into your bed on the bunk bed. "Rest princess…" jake says, watching you give him a smile. "Rest soldier" you speak. Jake stands there looking up at you until he closes his eyes.

The next day…

"I have to admit, these scrambled eggs turned out great," says Norm, proud of his breakfast. Jake laughs with his mouth full, while you started setting up the machines. You had gotten up earlier than the rest of the group, you were securing everything and preparing the tools so you could do the tests you wanted to do with Jake. Jake comes up to you, ready to get on the machine. "You're not going to put that piece of metal on me, are you?" jake jokes, as you give him a playful punch in the arm. Helping jake settle in, before closing the door you reach over and give jake a small kiss on the cheek. "I hope you come here and do your part" you speak, seeing jake's smile. Closing the lid of the machine.

Norm coughs a little trying to get your attention, you look at him. And you can see how he has a raised eyebrow. "Don't say anything…that I know you've done things with ruby" you signal norm, watching as he opens his mouth dramatically and touches his chest. "Betrayal" norm shouts. You grab your stuff and start looking out the window, waiting for Jake. You wanted to see what his avatar looked like, you were so curious to see what he looked like now.

Jake had woken up as usual, he had accompanied neytiri to breakfast with the whole clan. Doing the routine things he had been doing for the last few months. He was still looking for the best excuse to go to the lab, but how was he going to do it? Neytiri was by his side all the time, and like now they were at the top of a tree. They had spent the whole morning practicing jake flight with his ikran. They were taking a little time off, neytiri was sitting, looking at the view while eating a fruit. While jake walked back and forth. Neytiri could see jake's nervousness, looking sideways lifting his ears. "Is something wrong?" neytiri asks. Jake turns quickly, looking at the woman with surprise.

Neytiri could tell jake was thinking about something else. "I'm fine…I'm just feeling a little anxious" says jake. Before neytiri could answer him jake speaks up. "I want to go fly my ikran" says jake. Neytiri gets up quickly and drops the fruit she was holding. "I'll go with you," says Neytiri. Jake stops her by holding her shoulders. "No…I'd like to fly alone for a while, you know…I'll be right back," Jake says. Neytiri knew something was wrong, but she just gives Jake a warm smile.

Jake walks away and walks over to his ikran, climbing on top of the creature. "See ya…I'll be around" jake says, flying off with his ikran. Something in neytiri told her that she should follow jake, he was still new to the clan and this whole na'vi thing. But she also felt she should give him his space. Neytiri watches as jake's ikran walks away, taking her fruit and sitting on the branch. Maybe in a few minutes he would be back.

Jake fly away with his ikran, approaching the lab. The closer he got he could see the structure of the lab. You on the other hand had spent all morning looking out the window, and at this point you were beginning to lose hope. Sitting more in your chair, drinking your coffee. Besides you were getting bored, norm was asleep, while grace was in his avatar body, So you were left alone in the lab. Jake saw the lab and landed in front of it. You are a little startled by the shock, but you see through the glass window, a na'vi very similar to Jake get down. Knocking on the door, you rush to grab your oxygen mask and step outside.

Opening the door, you look up with a big smile on your face. "How do I look…I don't look so bad?" jokes Jake. You couldn't believe it, jake looked amazing. You take his hand, making him take a step down. "You look so different, I can't believe" you speak up, you were so impressed with the change jake had made. He had gotten stronger, and you swear you saw him get taller. You run into the lab to get your tools and start your tests. You needed to know what his measurements were now, how much he was weighing etc. "Can you stop wagging your little tail" you complain, pushing on Jake's tail. "You just called him a little tail" Jake looks at you. You laugh, Jake could see that you were so happy right now. Jake was sitting on a rock, letting you examine him fully. You move in front of jake, looking at his eyes and writing things down in your notebook. "So what, do I look cuter?" jake speaks up. "You've gained confidence" you speak, nudging Jake's shoulder a little.

Neytiri was getting bored, it had been about 2 hours and Jake wasn't coming back. What if something had happened to Jake? What if he had gotten lost? Neytiri had suddenly become nervous, deciding that she had to go look for Jake. He had to be very close by, from here. Neytiri flew off with her ikran in search of Jake. She had to admit that she had already flew far enough, but she still couldn't find Jake. She was getting very nervous. But she wasn't going to give up, she was going to find him, but the least she expected was that she was going to get a big surprise.

After flying for about 30 minutes, neytiri's ikran made a noise, indicating to him that he had sensed and located jake's ikran. Neytiri gives her the signal to approach, but her eyes widen when she saw the familiar looking structure. It had been a long time since she had approached human things. Indicating to her ikran to land nearby, but far away and hidden. What the hell was Jake doing here? Neytiri was no fool, and she knew that avatars needed a human to function. She remembers grace explaining it to her when they were little. Stepping down from her ikran carefully, and starting to walk closer to the building.

She stops for a moment, when her ears pick up jake's laughter and a very familiar voice. That voice causes her ears to perk up and her tail to respond with excitement. Bringing her hand to her chest, touching her necklace for a moment. She takes a deep breath, and begins to approach carefully.

To the outside of the lab…

You had Jake's hand in your hands, comparing it to yours. You were all giggles, making jokes. And some silly flirting back and forth. You were so oblivious to what was going on around you, you were barely aware that you were in a very dangerous jungle. "And did she notice?" you ask. Jake shakes his head. "No…I don't think so" jake says, watching as you lower your face and let go of his hand. You sit on a rock behind you, breathing deeply. Jake knew you were getting sad, he was about to ask what was wrong, when he hears someone's footsteps.

Quickly looking to his side, he saw the figure of Neytiri standing there. Still… staring at you. You look up, noticing that Jake hadn't said anything for a long time. Noticing how he was looking to the side, you copy his movement. Seeing her there…looking at you. You couldn't believe she was there…right in front of you.

After so long…it had been so long. You stand up, not taking your eyes off of neytiri. Jake looked at neytiri and examined her, noticing that she didn't have any weapon in her hands, she was just standing there, looking at you. As if she wanted to run towards you…not noticing that you had the same characteristics. Time seemed to stand still for a moment, until you can see how a warm smile came to Neytiri's lips, as she raised her hand and made her greeting gesture. "I see you…my y/n" neytiri says, you copy her movement, smiling back "I see you…my neytiri" you speak. Watching as the surrounding atmosphere became fresher and a calm breeze could be felt. It was as if eywa had planned everything…for this moment.

to be continue...

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theoddest1 · 1 year ago

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Let's Actually Talk About The Issues With Vivziepop

Okay, first off, hello you beautiful people! Sorry about this foreboding title, but I needed to catch y'all attention on this so I can break down the issues that I and many have with "Hazbin Hotel" and "Helluva Boss" creator, Vivienne Medrano. Now I am sure you all on here are already aware of at least a couple of the controversies that revolve around this particular creator and if you have seen my posts floating around already, some have been greeted with the problems surrounding her social media presence and just her overall as a person. I know seeing another callout on her seems very very tiring at this point, but I felt that a lot of the current callouts missed key details that were not at all addressed or properly delved on. I plan on shedding light on my issues with her and I hope you get where I am coming from when I say that she sucks.

BULLYING

Okay, I am starting off with Vivienne's blatant use of bully mentality, her agreeing or encouraging her fans to call people who see flaws in her works sub-humans or harass those who find issue or simply jest about her works trademark cussing and and overcrowded designs. She has had this issue for YEARS and refuses to grow up and act her age despite many telling her, even her own fans at times, that she shouldn't be acting so unprofessionally. Clearly, she doesn't care and thanks to her fanbase caring more about her feelings than her being better she feels as though she doesn't need to change or do better. This goes for her friend group as well, who defend her tremendously and act as though she is never in the wrong. Name one time a friend of hers called her out for acting childish, I'll wait.

Now, you're probably wondering, "Wtf could they have done to warrant such a response?"

Criticism...That's all they did. (White Text is random peeps they would speak with or maybe mutuals)

Keep in mind...they used to be a fan as well. They were also a minor at this point

But, Viv doesn't care, this person's critical yet harmless tweets about her shows is what lead to her painting them in a horrible light and making them out to be someone who has attacked her personally and as "nasty".

Rich coming from Viv since she is completely fine doing exactly that for "Ava's Demon". Not only does she criticize it, she takes a shot at the creator as well, but GOD FORBID others do the same towards her.

And according to someone who knew her well, it's all cause they felt creeped out by her.

Her hatred for criticism is so prominent that Ima makes that a section of its own. But let's get back on the topic of bullying.

Vivienne has a fanbase filled to the brim with pushy and overall annoying individuals who have harassed, threatened, disrespected, and wished harm on many people, all cause someone had a negative thing to say about Vivziepop's mid af show. One of the earlier known instances is the one revolving around a MEME of all things.

This was what started it all, and it led to both parties blocking each other and people being mad pushy and calling them an idiot and the like over their opinions. Now look, their take and you're opinion on said take is fine so long as you stay respectful and humane about it all, but don't dogpike someone all cause they think HH sucks. And while Viv can not control her fanbase, for they are not a hivemind (some of y'all act it tho, ima keep it real) she is seen here ENCOURAGING the behavior. Tell me how someone who doesn't even like your trash ass show has the sense to tell people not to harass others, someone with a smaller following, but not your grown damn near 30 year old ass?

Oh, but people wanna act like she can handle criticism, is a sweet person, and grew from her past experiences. Fam, she was 27 in this screenshot [December 16, 2019] and has shown no change from 2013 to fucking 2024. Over a decade of the same petty ass behavior, and keep in mind, according to several of her old friends and workers, she is worse behind close doors. WORSE. She's already acting like she got no damn sense out in the open, imagine behind closed doors.

Last but not least, a glimpse into her outright blatant slander towards Dollcreep, a once good friend of hers that she even visited and spoke with frequently!

She stated that they fetishized pedophilia yet according to the victim and friends of the victim who were once friends with Viv as well, Viv actually threatened to end their friendship if he hadn't drawn NSFW art of her character and his character having sex [Addi was 15 at the time this was drawn]

On top of that, she liked the post, something she didn't need to do. The art also depicted things she had regularly drawn on her own. Addi being tied up forcefully, being sexualized, being harmed to some degree through bondage, etc. The claim that she forced DC to draw this out is backed up by her own art depicting similar elements. Also, if my memory serves me well, Viv and Doll were 17-18 years old [Doll was 17 Viv 18] and have a 1-year age gap. The way Viv frames things here is as if DC was way older and imposed some sort of power over DC, which sources say otherwise. If anything, Viv had a LOT of control throughout all of this drama, which deserves its own section.

I'll be making posts that talk about the different issues regarding Viv, so one post isn't too long (this one is already lengthy enough) and that you can just pick at one post targeting certain issues around this creator.

#vivziepop critical #vivziepop criticism #vivienne medrano #vivziepop critique #anti spindlehorse #anti vivziepop #viv get a grip #vivziepop #hazbin #hazbin hotel #call out post #analysis #creator analysis #hazbin hotel criticism #hazbin hotel critical #hazbin hotel critique #hazbin critical #hazbin critique

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arc852 · 3 months ago

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Comfort From the Storm

Summary: Jimmy has learned to love the annual thunder storm the college gets. Tango, on the other hand, is terrified of storms. Jimmy decides to do something about that.

Warnings: slight fear

Word Count: 2086

AO3 Link

We get to see some more of Jimmy and Tango bonding! There might be another one of these smaller fics showing the two getting to know each other more but otherwise the next big fic will be Jimmy finally meeting Imp and Skizz! But until then, I hope you enjoy!

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Jimmy had honestly been waiting for the annual summer storm to begin. He wasn’t sure if it was the same everywhere (it wasn’t, according to Grian and Joel) but around here, and without fail, there was always a storm that started the summer off.

Jimmy was currently hanging out with Tango, as they now tended to do on Mondays. They had quickly learned that while Grian and Joel both had classes on Mondays, Tango didn’t. And even better, Impulse also had classes on Mondays, so it was a good time for Jimmy to go over to Tango’s dorm in order for the two to hang out.

Jimmy rested his head against the window, body curled up on the windowsill as he stared out into the storm. The sight was familiar, as he tended to find a place to watch the storm every year. The clouds were dark, making the already dimming evening become night far too early. The only source of natural light coming from the occasional lightning dancing through the clouds. That was Jimmy’s favorite part.

The rain was another favorite of Jimmy’s and he watched as it pelted against the window, coming down fast and hard. And finally, the thunder, loud and consuming as it bellowed for everyone to hear. When he had first come to the college, the thunder had scared him. It was too loud, too scary. Jimmy hadn’t known what was happening and had been expecting the worst.

He hadn’t been able to sit still and let whatever bad thing happen though, which is what led him to finding a window in an unoccupied room to peer outside. And from there, he hadn’t been scared anymore. Seeing the storm had not only amazed him but calmed him. The steady noises, even if loud, had turned soothing once he could see the origin of them.

Jimmy let out a deep breath, a relaxed one as he simply stared up into the sky. Though he tore his gaze away as he heard the door to the room open. He looked over to see Tango coming back in, a bag of food in hand. Apparently the driver had trouble finding Tango’s dorm, so Tango had to go to the dorm lobby to go and meet him. During the five minutes Tango had been gone, the storm had grown from a simple downpour to the thunder and lightning storm it was now.

“M-Man, the storm’s really picked up.” Tango said, more to himself as he toed off his shoes. He looked up and his eyes widened when he saw Jimmy sat on the windowsill. “Jimmy! What are you doing up there?!” Tango asked, putting the bag of food down on his desk as he quickly made his way over to the window and Jimmy. His hands reached out but paused before they could get too close. Despite the talk they had, Tango still had some trouble physically interacting with Jimmy at times.

Jimmy looked up at Tango with his head titled in confusion over Tango’s tone. He seemed almost panicked for some reason. “Oh, I climbed up here as soon as I heard the thunder.” Jimmy said with a smile, looking back out the window as the rain continued its heavy downpour. “I love watching thunder storms, they're so calming.”

“C-Calming?” Tango repeated, incredulousness thick in his tone. “I don’t know if I would say-” Tango was suddenly cut off by a loud bout of thunder. He let out a terrified squeak and that was all the warning Jimmy got before he was cupped between Tango’s hands and pulled close to his chest. As soon as Tango had a hold of Jimmy, he had backed far away from the window, practically huddling against the opposite wall.

Jimmy blinked, though he was used to being grabbed out of nowhere, he was caught off guard by Tango being the one to do so. Still, even with it being mostly unintentional, Tango hadn’t fully trapped him in a fist. Instead, he was cupped between Tango’s hands, free to move even if it was still limited.

He looked up and saw only the bottom of Tango’s face but even so, he could feel the shaking in the hands that held him. It was easy to see that Tango was scared. “Tango? Hey, it’s okay. It’s just thunder.” Jimmy said, trying to calm the human down.

Tango looked down at Jimmy, his eyes wide with fear that was quickly covered up by the realization of what he had just done. “Oh! Jimmy, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s okay, Tango. You know I don’t mind.” Jimmy reassured him. It was slow progress in getting Tango comfortable in holding him and such but even slow progress was progress.

Tango bit his lip. “R-Right.” Tango said. A moment later there was a flash from the lightning striking through the clouds outside. Tango tensed again, eyes wide and staring out the window and Jimmy noticed Tango’s hands moving ever so slightly closer to his chest. Jimmy hummed. It was strange seeing a human so scared.

“Are you scared of thunder storms?” Jimmy asked, despite having reasoned out the answer.

“Well, I…” Tango trailed off, seemingly embarrassed. A moment later, thunder rolled through the skies again and Tango full body flinched. He froze as he realized he had just given himself away. “...Maybe.”

Jimmy smiled softly at Tango, trying to show him there was no reason to be embarrassed about it. “It’s okay. I used to be too.” Jimmy said, causing Tango to look back down at him. “But then I found a way to watch the storm and I felt a lot better about it.”

Tango bit the inside of his cheek, cheeks still flushed red. “I just…I’m 23 years old! I shouldn’t be scared of a dumb thunder storm.” Tango walked a bit closer to the window again, looking out at the heavy downpour and dark clouds with a wince. “I know it can’t hurt me and yet…” Tango watched the outside with wide eyes before having to tear them away.

Jimmy hummed and looked between Tango and the storm outside. There had to be something he could do to help Tango feel better…

Briefly, Jimmy remembers a long forgotten memory. Of himself as a kid and of his parents. He remembers thunder-like noises shaking their house and being terrified of them. And he remembers his mom and dad holding him close, comforting him as they passed the time by telling stories.

Jimmy closed his eyes for a moment, feeling overwhelmed by the sudden memory before it passed as quickly as it had come. Jimmy opened his eyes back up, an idea forming in his brain thanks to the surfaced memory.

“Hey, Tango?” Jimmy spoke up, pulling Tango out of his anxiety for a moment as he looked down at him again.

“Yeah?” Tango answered.

“How about we move to the bed for a bit?” Jimmy said, glancing over at Tango’s bed as he said it. Tango frowned slightly, confusion apparent in his eyes.

“What about the food?” Tango asked and Jimmy smiled a bit.

“We can always warm it up later. I think this might be more important.” Jimmy said, confusing Tango even more. Even so, Tango started to slowly walk over to the bed and Jimmy knew he was being extra careful because Tango was holding him. As they made it to the bed, before Tango could get into it, another bout of thunder roared outside, causing Tango to jump again. Jimmy rubbed circles on the skin under him, trying to offer some comfort.

“I’m okay.” Tango said and then slowly got into bed. He sat up in the bed, over the covers since he hadn’t wanted to risk trying to get under them while holding Jimmy. But Jimmy wasn’t satisfied with the position.

“Here, put me down on the nightstand real quick.” Jimmy said and it was like Tango didn’t need to be told twice as he reached his hands over and let Jimmy off onto solid ground. Tango’s hands quickly went away and Jimmy pointed at him. “Now get under the covers and lay down.” Jimmy all but demanded. Another roar of thunder had Tango wincing but otherwise he did as Jimmy said.

Tango was now under the covers, laying down with only his head slightly raised from his pillow. Jimmy smiled to himself and then went over to the lamp and clicked the small button at the bottom of it, turning off the light. The overhead light was still on but it was dim, the reason they needed the lamp in the first place, and it created the perfect kind of atmosphere that Jimmy was aiming for.

With everything set up, Jimmy jumped off the nightstand and onto the bed. Tango let out a little noise of surprise and stress as Jimmy did that and Jimmy sent him a smile to reassure him that he was fine. Tango put his hands back down, as they had jumped up a bit when Jimmy had jumped across the small gap between the nightstand and the bed, and watched as Jimmy only moved closer to him.

“Uh, what are you planning here?” Tango asked, confusion thick in his tone. Jimmy knew if he actually said his plan then Tango might stress about it too much for Jimmy to actually enact it. So he kept quiet about it and just kept walking closer.

“You’ll see! Just don’t move.” Jimmy said.

“Don’t move? Wha-?” Tango started to ask but cut himself off as the words got caught in his throat as Jimmy started to climb up on him. Tango’s mouth went dry and he stilled, barely breathing as Jimmy gripped onto the fabric of his shirt to hoist himself up onto Tango’s chest. As he finally got to the top, Jimmy could feel the heart beat under him going at a rapid pace. He looked over at Tango, whose chin was pressed hard into his chest in order to be at an angle to see him. His eyes were wide. “J-Jimmy, what are you doing?” Tango asked.

Jimmy feared, for a moment, that he was causing Tango more anxiety than the storm now, but he decided to push on. Hoping that the small amount of stress now would make up for the comfort he was about to give Tango. “It’s okay. Uh, don’t freak out please?” Jimmy said with a slight unsure chuckle.

Tango wetted his lips. “Um…I’m trying.” Tango said and Jimmy nodded. That was all he could really ask for.

“Okay, bring one of your hands over here.” Jimmy said and he saw Tango swallow as he lifted a hand from underneath the covers and brought it slowly over to Jimmy. He paused, hesitating before he could actually touch him, so Jimmy took the initiative and grabbed hold of one of Tango’s fingers, bringing his whole hand closer.

Jimmy then laid down right on Tango’s chest, pulling the human’s hand with him. Tango seemed to get what Jimmy wanted him to do and gently settled his hand over Jimmy’s body, only leaving his head free. Jimmy grinned and snuggled his head into Tango’s chest. “There we go! Just focus on me, not on the storm, okay? It’ll pass eventually.” Jimmy said, keeping his voice steady.

Tango blinked, fully realizing what position Jimmy had maneuvered them both into. They were cuddling, and Tango’s hand pressed down just a bit more at the realization, feeling the small weight on his chest and the small form against his hand. The feeling was grounding and Tango let out a small breath, the storm all but forgotten.

Another flash of light, another roar of thunder, but Tango ignored it in favor of putting all his attention onto Jimmy.

“So this was your plan.” Tango said, chuckling a bit. Jimmy smiled at the sound. “Can’t say I’m upset by this.”

“Well, I would hope not.” Jimmy said, lifting his head up to look at Tango. “I just…I remember my parents doing this for me, holding me close to comfort me. I know…I know I can’t really hold you like that but I figured…this would be enough?”

Tango smiled gently down at Jimmy and held him just a tad tighter against him, settling down fully into the bed with a sigh. “It’s more than enough.” Tango said with a soft smile. “And you were right, like this…the storm isn’t so bad.”

Jimmy grinned. “I’m glad.”

#g/t #giant/tiny #borrowers #au #bbbcau #fic #hermitcraft #hermitblr #hermitfic #borrower jimmy #tiny jimmy

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nylqnder · 1 year ago

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𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐏𝐇𝐄𝐍 | 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐃

word count: 1.25k

summary: when reunited, both yours and coles crushes on each other come back full force.

warnings: drinking, mentions of puking, tiny bit of swearing

notes: sort of but not really based on ‘hey stephen’ by taylor swift. hope you enjoy!!

You adored the wrap-around porch of the lakehouse. The screen allowed soft breezes and rays of sunlight to wade in while keeping bugs out. The comfy furniture Jack and Quinn had splurged on last summer was a bonus. That’s exactly why you found yourself nodding off into a midday nap in the cuddler chair, your book long forgotten on the side table next to you.

Tires crunching on the gravel followed by the car horn beeping obnoxiously rip you from the brink of sleep. You groan, getting up from the chair and walking to the front door to see who was there. Jack's car was now parked behind Quinn in the driveway, the trunk open.

You had arrived the week before with Quinn and Luke, the three of you driving from home together. Jack, however, had visited his friend Cole in Montreal and was driving down with Cole a few days later.

“Hey!” Jack calls out to you, walking over with a cooler in hand.

“Hey there.” You grinned. “What’s in the cooler?”

Jack places the cooler down, opening the lid to show you the contents. “Did you pack anything other than beer?” You asked.

Jack scoffs, picking it back up. “Of course. We have some coolers in the trunk.” He says, walking past you and into the house. You notice someone come out from behind the car, carrying a duffle bag and a backpack.

“Hey.” He smiles. You know who it is immediately. It’s hard to not recognize that face. That smile. That laugh.

You hadn’t seen Cole since he played with Jack on the USNDT. You had a crush on him back then when the two of you were in high school. He was always kind to you and you had always found him adorable. You saw him fairly frequently then, but hadn’t in 4 years since Cole moved to Montreal, while you stayed in the States and went to school.

“Hi.” You squeak out.

Cole is still just as cute and still has the same smile, just slightly older and more grown. In high school, Cole was smaller, making him a bit of an anomaly among hockey players. But now he had filled out, put on muscle and you were finding now that there was a new layer to your attraction. A new physical attraction.

“Hi y/n,” He replies, stepping closer to you and opening his arms. “What has it been? Ten years since I saw you?”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “Try four.” You say, accepting his hug.

“How is that possible?” He asks.

“Blame Jack, he’s the one who always invites you when I’m never here.” You say.

“Why would I want my annoying sister here during a boys' trip?” Jack said, giving you a shoulder check as he walked past you to the car.

You stuck up your middle finger to his back, walking back inside with Cole following behind. Quinn and Luke had now come in from the dock, greeting Cole.

“Hey, man,” Luke says, bringing him in for a hug. “How’s it going?”

While Luke and Cole caught up with one another, you helped stock the fridge.

The first two weeks of summer blew by. Your days consisted of boat rides, occasionally joining your brothers and Cole in their training sessions at the local rink, and tanning on the dock. Through the two weeks spent together, your crush on Cole grew stronger.

Cole, in being around you for the first time in 4 years, is reminded of the crush he once harboured for you. He’d once thought it was just a fleeting crush he’d long dismissed. However, now being with you, he realized it was much more than that. It was a pining that never truly went away, merely went dormant just beneath the surface.

It was nearing the end of Cole’s stay before he was going to head back to Wisconsin. For Cole, whose feelings had hit their peak, it was now or never to confess his feelings.

The combined brains of Jack and Luke had decided to have a final night of going hard and drinking. From inside, you could hear the shouting of the boys who were playing a drinking game. You’d played the first few rounds of a game Quinn had introduced but forfeited as you didn’t want to be too hungover in the morning. You’d instead retreated to the porch, observing the lightning strikes on the neighbouring islands. You nursed a beer that you had started in the last round of the game.

A few moments later the door connecting the living room to the patio opened, and Cole stepped out. “Hey.” He said upon spotting you.

“Hey.” You replied. “You finished your drinking game?”

“No, they’re still going at it. I bailed.” Cole said. He walks over, standing next to you. He follows your gaze to the lake, the sound of the rain hitting the water filling the silence.

Cole admires the way you seem transfixed by the storm. “You like thunderstorms?” Cole asks.

“I love them.” You reply, a grin forming on your lips. “The way the lightning illuminates the sky…It’s just so cool”

Staring at you now, Cole was entranced by how you looked at the water. He couldn’t help himself. Something within Cole snaps and he can’t keep it in any longer. The song inside the living room changed, Hey Stephen now playing. The song sparks an idea in his head and Cole blurts out the words.

“I can’t help it… you look like an angel.” Cole says. Your head snaps towards him and you go to speak, but Cole beats you to it. “And I can’t help it if I wanna kiss you in the rain.”

You clue into what Cole is referencing, a grin forming on your lips. You stay quiet, hoping Cole will continue which he does.

“So come feel this magic I’ve been feeling since I met you. I can’t help it if there’s no one else. I can’t help myself.” He finishes.

“Did you just quote Taylor Swift?” You ask Cole.

“Maybe…” Cole says, reluctantly.

“Are you flirting with me?” You ask him.

Cole takes a step back, his cheeks burning as he reads your reaction as one of almost disgust. “Oh, am I that bad at it?”

“Not at all.” You smile. Cole relaxes at your words. “So do you really want to kiss me in the rain?”

Cole steps forward, slowly placing his hands on your waist. Apprehension and anticipation lace the air as you prepare to cross a boundary previously untouched. His lips land softly on yours, contradicting the emotions that were swirling within the both of you. With each kiss and the quickening of the rhythm, you find yourself melting into him. Your arms link around his shoulders, drawing him closer till your chests are pressed together.

Thunder rattles the sky but doesn’t disturb the bubble you two were in, rather underscoring the moment you two were having.

You are finally forced apart when the door to the porch swings open, hitting the wall next to it. Luke comes rushing out and down the steps, emptying the contents of his stomach onto the grass. Jack and Quinn come out next, not even noticing the two of you, instead laughing hysterically at Luke as he dry heaves on the lawn.

Cole takes your hand, quietly drawing you away and back into the house. You follow him up the stairs, away from the boys downstairs.

#˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆ nylqnder #cole caufield #cole caufield x reader #cole caufield imagine #nhl #nhl imagine #hockey #hockey imagine #nhl players #nhl fic #montreal canadiens #habs

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sinnabarmoth · 6 months ago

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Worthy of Devotion (1/9)

(A/N: This prompt that I had originally intended to be maybe 2 parts got out of hand so fast. So yeah, @effervescent-unicorn, you are to blame for this monster. And I hope you appreciate that my hyper-fixation chose it. All said with love!)

Pairing: Sea God|Rafayel x Worshipper|Reader (fem)

Summary: Reader has left to begin her pilgrimage to the temple of the Sea God in the middle of the ocean. Along the way she ends up in a terrible storm and meets the god himself, Rafayel.

Content warnings: Adult language. Near death experience.

Length: >3k

Chapters: (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9)

Read it on AO3

~~~

It was finally happening! After so many years of study and devotion it was time for your pilgrimage.

You had grown up in a seaside city that worshiped the Sea God, Rafayel. At a young age you had been taken in by the city’s grand temple and raised as a devout follower and prospective priestess. At least, you would be a priestess after your pilgrimage to the Pearl Temple.

Growing up you had heard about the beauty and majesty of the Pearl Temple, a grand temple on an island in the middle of the sea that shone like the gleaming alabaster brilliance of a pearl. It was a necessary journey that all expecting priests and priestess of the Sea God were expected to make. You would go, spend time making repairs and cleaning the temple, gather a pearl from its waters, and return home. Now it was your turn.

A boat small enough to be managed by a single person yet large enough to hold needed supplies was made for you and you were off across the beautiful blue of the ocean. The sun was shining, your sail was full, and your heart was hammering as you took off on this long anticipated journey. The city behind you became smaller and smaller before disappearing past the horizon and suddenly you were wholly alone in the middle of the sea.

You were feeling good about your journey and how calm the sea was. Perhaps you were being blessed by the Sea God for a safe journey. Then night came. The ocean turned to pitch black and the moonlight disappeared behind the heavy shroud of dark clouds. The waves became choppier and choppier until they began to roar up and pummeled your boat with ferocity. Years of sailing kicked in and you started running around doing whatever was needed to keep your boat aloft in this terrible storm. But then a wave easily ten times the size of your boat swelled and crashed over you and you were taken under, your ship smashed to pieces.

You kicked and flailed trying to find the surface but everything was too dark. You couldn’t tell up from down and you were running out of air. No! No it couldn’t end like this! It couldn’t!

Then from down in the depths you saw something glowing. A brilliant blue light like sapphires that multiplied and moved together like beads on a string being dragged across the sand. Against the light a silhouette of a shadow in the water could be seen that dwarfed anything you had ever seen. Was it a whale? The lights grew larger and you realized that whatever this was it was coming straight for you. Yet you were not scared. You were mesmerized.

Your breath was gone as you took in a lungful of water and the world started to go dark at the edges. The lights and shadow was still coming but you doubted you’d stay alive long enough to see it for what it really was. If it was anything but a hallucination anyway.

At least you’d die in the ocean. Forever a part of the sea.

Your body went numb from the cold yet in the center of your chest you felt a warmth begin to grow. It filled your lungs until they were burning. The burning burst out, surging up your throat like a volcano and spilling out of your mouth.

Your eyes opened again, struggling to focus as you retched more and more. Salt water and bile painted the ground underneath you as all the water in your lungs and stomach was expelled. Every breath was precious to you but they ached with the effort. By the tides, what had happened? You had thought for sure you were going to die.

You forced your eyes to focus and took in your surroundings. You were on something wet and squishy and--shit it was moving! You reared back as pale appendages rose up around you.

“You have wandered a long way from home, little human.” a voice that bellowed like the raging sea rang loud behind you. It was then you realized what exactly you were on. It was a hand. A giant hand that held you in its palm.

You turned towards the voice and came face to gigantic face with a man taller than any building or tree you had seen. The pale moonlight reflected alabaster skin dappled with large iridescent blue scales that shimmered in the light. All leading to twin eyes the blue of a hot flame that studied you intently. The lights in the water…the shadow…it was him. It was…

“Rafayel…” The mosaics in the temples did not prepare you for this. You tried to breathe but you were struck dumb and immobile. You were in the literal hand of the Sea God. You had imagined a hundred times what you would say if you had ever been given the chance to meet the Sea God but no words came now. You just knelt and stared trying to rationalize that this was actually happening.

His head tilted to the side and you could see the web of fins poking out through his hair where his ears were supposed to be. “What brings you here all on your own?” he asked.

“I--I--” your voice rasped as you tried to speak. “I am on my pilgrimage, Your Radiance. I set out yesterday morning to travel to the Pearl Temple when I got caught in the storm.”

“My temple?” this seemed to intrigue him. “It has been hundreds of years since anyone has been there.”

“Hundreds of years?” you gasped. That couldn’t be right. But if anyone were to know it would be the god who the temple is for. “But then how…all the priests and priestesses…the pearls…what of our sacred journey?” you mumbled to yourself trying to parcel together everything.

“Something is at work in your head, little human. Speak it.”

“I do not understand. To become one of your priests we must travel to the Pearl Temple and retrieve a pearl from its waters. If no one has been there in a hundred years then how has anyone become a priest or priestess? It makes no sense.”

“Humans lie. Shouldn’t you know that, being one of them?”

You felt your heart splitting in two. No. The people who raised, who taught you, they couldn’t have lied. They couldn’t have forsaken such a critical and important part of their faith. And for what? Why had no one gone to the Pearl Temple? What were you missing? “Why? Why would they lie? Why would they let me make this journey if none of them had actually done it? I don’t understand…” tears started to leak from your eyes.

“The answer is simple. The seas are fraught with dangers the further from land you venture. You experienced first hand such dangers there are and it almost killed you. They would rather live a lie than risk death being honest.” Rafayel said. “I would say that makes you braver and more devout than any of them.”

“Thank you,” you bowed your head, pressing your head to his palm. “Thank you for your words and thank you for saving me.”

“What will you do now?” he asked.

“I…” you didn’t know. You looked over the edge of his hand towards the water but saw no sign of your boat. Not that you thought you would see it. The storm had destroyed it beyond repair. “I have no way to get home, though I am not sure I want to return after learning what I have. But I cannot continue on my pilgrimage without my vessel. I do not know what to do.”

“Do you still wish to see the temple?”

“More than anything.”

“Then that is where we will travel.”

“You would take me? Truly?”

“The first follower of mine that has been brave enough to actually attempt the journey? Should I let you drown in my ocean? I do not think so.” he said with a half smile. “You will want to close your eyes for this next part though.”

You did as instructed and felt his hand close around you, cradling you securely before you felt yourself plummeting down into the ocean once more. You kept your eyes squeezed shut, the sound of the ocean rushing past you roaring in your ears. Then all at once it stopped and you felt yourself being deposited on the sand.

“You can open your eyes now.”

You opened them and saw that you were now on a large island. The white sand sparkled in the moonlight like stardust and before you stood the shadow of a large and imposing temple. “I’m really here…” you said in awe.

“I have not been here in some time. Looks worse than I thought.” Rafayel’s voice didn’t sound as loud as before.

You turned to thank him for delivering you to the temple and were shocked not to see the giant you had met but a much more human looking man standing behind you. Unlike in his giant form where he was largely unadorned his human form was bedecked in gold jewelry on his arms and neck, blue, crimson, and gold tattoos were painted across his skin, and he had an elaborately embroidered sarong of linen and gossamer silks around his waist that was pinned together with a gold braided belt. And here you were still waterlogged and in your plainest travel clothes…now your only clothes you realized.

Rafayel saw you studying him and squinted at you. “What are you staring at?”

“You’re small.” Is what came out without thinking.

“Still taller than you.” he ruffled your hair as he walked past you.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” You were quick to amend yourself. “I’m sorry.”

“I take no offense. This is my usual form.” he said. “I rarely assume my true god form as you saw it. You can consider yourself lucky to have witnessed such a thing.”

You followed behind him as he walked towards the temple. “I’ve considered myself lucky since meeting you. If not for you I would have drowned. And now because of you I am at the Pearl Temple, the first person to enter its hallowed halls for the first time in centuries according to you.”

“Hmph,” he scoffed, “It’s crumbling halls more like.”

You got to the large ornate doors that led into the temple and Rafayel shoved them open. In his hand he produced a flame and sent it at a brazier inside the temple. It was then what you saw what he had spoken of. The inside of the temple was indeed grand as you had heard but even in the limited light you could tell it was deep in disrepair. There were cracks in the floor, broken windows, there was debris of broken glass and elements of nature inside, even part of the roof was missing in some areas. All of it because no one had come in so long. It was a wonder it was still standing at all.

“This way.” Rafayel kept walking. “Mind your step.”

You followed him up a staircase and into a new section of the temple that thankfully did not look as worse for wear as the main level. You walked by a few doors before he stopped at one and thrust it open. He had another flame in his hand as he used the light to assess the room. “No broken windows. That was my main concern.” he said and ushered you to enter.

Using his power he sent flames out at the different sconces along the walls. You were in the most lavish bedroom you had ever seen. Gold and gems were inlaid into the walls like a mosaic, the bed was easily three times the size of your small cot at home and five times as thick, the furniture was crafted from a rich and warm colored wood that glowed like bronze in the firelight, the headboard for the bed alone looked as if it had taken years to carve in every detail.

The room had been left untouched by the elements but still had a layer of dust around it that slid against your feet as you walked. You felt yourself glide and slip across the floor and Rafayel caught you by the elbow before you could fall. “If you don’t mind the dust, you can sleep here tonight.”

“Sleep here?” you held your arms close to you. “I do not think I can sleep somewhere so splendid. Aren’t the bedrooms for your followers supposed to be modest? What even is this room? Not even the highest of the priests and priestesses have a room such as this.”

“You may be right, but those rooms are no doubt in as terrible condition as the rest of the temple. This may be the only suitable room left because it had been so meticulously taken care of and boarded before it was abandoned.” he explained.

“I see. Why was this room boarded so carefully but none of the others?” you stepped closer to the bed and gave a gentle pat to the mattress. A puff of dust plumed from the linens. You coughed and turned away. “I’m going to need to air it out first or I may very well choke to death.” You started tearing the blankets off the bed sending up even more dust.

Rafayel unlatched and opened the windows, though they creaked horribly from not being used in years. “Well, to answer your question, the reason this room was probably so well kept even after being abandoned is because it is technically my room.”

You dropped the blankets and stared at him.

“What is it now?” he sighed, collecting the blankets from your feet.

“I can’t stay here!” you rushed to take the blankets out of his arms. “If it is your quarters then I’m definitely not supposed to be here! I have no right!”

“It is an unused room.”

“It’s your room!”

“I never use it.” he snatched the blankets back. “It’s my room technically because all temples are supposed to have a room that belongs to the god that it is dedicated to. But none of the gods ever actually use them. We have our own rooms in our own homes. This is merely a place of dedication. And since it is my room I am giving you express permission to make use of it. Someone ought to use it anyway.” He went to the window and started shaking the dust out of the blankets as if he was not a god doing a menial chore.

“But--”

“Would it make you feel better if I made it a command?” he said with a teasing smirk, “Fine then. As your god I command you to live in this room so long as you are on this island. You will sleep in this room, change in this room, bathe in this room, and so on and so forth. There. Now you have to or else you would be disobeying your god.”

You were flabbergasted. You knew he was teasing you but there was still a part of you that went rigid with complacency upon hearing his command. Even made in jest, you wouldn’t go against him.

You took back some of the blankets and sheets and aired them out at the other window. Once the bed was significantly less dusty you felt yourself relax. Then the toil of the day started beating down on you all at once. You had been running on adrenaline during the storm and then too excited and shocked at having met Rafayel to even think about being tired. But now the storm had passed and your body was weary.

“Go to bed, little human.” he gave you a poke. “You need your rest.”

“But I--” you yawned, collapsing onto the bed. “--I need to pray first. I’m always supposed to pray before going to sleep.”

He sat at the edge of the bed. “Then make it quick before you pass out.”

“Dear God of the Seas--”

“Skip the honorifics. You don’t need to beseech me to listen, I’m already here.”

“Thank you for saving me and looking after me. Thank you for letting me sleep in your room.” your eyes were growing heavier, “I pray you will continue to bless me and protect me.”

“Consider your prayer heard. Now rest.” you felt the blanket be pulled up over your shoulders. “You have nothing to fear so long as you are here.”

And with those final words you fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

#love and deepspace #lads rafayel #rafayel x reader #lads mc #rafayel x mc #sea god rafayel #lads sea god au

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