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emmaofnormandy · 6 months ago

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Imagine you and Aegon find comfort in each other.

Warnings: mediæval like; canon divergence with the series; Y/N’s plot is loosely inspired in (TV Show’s) Helaena’s; drama; smut.

***

• (I)

You have dreams. What do you know about them? They come true, that is what you understand. Whatever colours they are painted of, they come true. Mostly they show you the past, but every now and then… these dreams show something beyond your historical comprehension.

“Y/N, my dearest”, the queen calls you out, bringing you back to reality. You raise your eyes and spot this red-haired woman dressed in fanciful green robes eyeing you with a maternal, yet distant care. “There is something we must speak of.”

“What is it?”, you remember your filial duties. Leaving aside your books, you concentrate on what your often absent mother has to say.

“By any means I mean to bring to you a subject that makes me uncomfortable in speaking of”, the Queen forces a smile, but you can tell by the awkwardness in her eyes that she wishes to be elsewhere. “You are soon going to be married.”

“To Aegon”, you observe, resigned. “How could it be otherwise when he’s the heir?”

For someone so young, your tongue can be sharp whilst your eyes give tons of liveliness not afore perceived by your mother. An awkward silence hangs in between the two of you.

“Yes, to him. This will not happen soon, though.”

“But from now on my lessons will change. I am aware.” And you smile to break the sudden tension. “Fear not, mother. I think Aegon and I will be… in good terms.”

She doesn’t know how you can be certain, but the Queen is relieved for delivering at last what she formerly thought to be dreadful news.

***

• (II)

“Marriages are alliances that must not be focused in sentiments”, instructs the Queen. “These must be placed aside for the sake of duty.”

“Is it not commendable to have some degree of affection between the parties?”, asks Aegon, somewhat confused with where this is going.

His mother gives him a look, deprived of comprehension: how could she, when she married his father by force, never nurturing any affection for this man?

“Nay. The Church strongly discourages affection on both parts, for otherwise marriage, sacred in its end for the purpose of continuing the lineage, becomes profaned.”

Aegon sighs heavily. It is worthless to discuss with his mother, he knows it well. This is a matter that women are better familiar with, for, like his grandsire likes to say, it is linked with a feminine world of which men have little doing in it.

According to the old Valyrian tradition, the heir to the throne comes to understand that he’s to marry his younger sister, Y/N. The young man closes his eyes, at first not really excited about making you his wife.

“I shall do as my lady mother commands”, says he in a mechanic tone, eager to leave the meeting.

Must it be constantly uncomfortable every time they gather together?

A question the Queen sees unposed in her boy’s eyes. One of the kind she wishes she could answer, but trapped in her own ambitious web, all she does is eventually dismiss his presence of her.

And serve herself some wine, naturally.

***

• (III).

Aegon watches as you sit by the fountain. Years gone by since you and him grew up and were forced to marry. The union has been consumed, but you have been avoiding each other’s presence ever since.

However, for some inexplicable reason, here he stands, watching you absorbed in your usual reading. The book is black velvet with golden pages, but judging by the content that has you frowning your eyebrows, Aegon believes it not be of religious type.

He hesitates at first in how to come at you. There had seemed to be an unspoken agreement between both of you since that unfortunate day that once consumed, the marriage would remain as void as possible.

Duties were performed, of course. However, ever since Prince Jaehaerys came to pass, a victim of the Summer Fever, neither could console the other properly. As a result, Aegon produced bastards… but never a legitimate son to continue the line. Perhaps this was arranged, albeit unconsciously so, between him and you against Queen Alicent’s and your grandsire Lord Otto’s ambitions.

But now… Aegon cannot handle his demons alone. Out of his siblings, you are the one whose nature somehow… does not mirror others or his own.

Sensing the weight of his stare, you lift your gaze only to be caught off guard by your estranged husband’s presence. You quickly stand, somewhat fearful he might be here just to scowl at you for failing your duties—something that you’ve seen in others’ eyes.

And even though you’ve been having odd dreams where Aegon and you get along, overcoming these initial struggles that a forced match put you through, you are somehow faithless in this. In addition to this, there’s the fact neither speak to the other since your only son’s demise.

“I do not fault you for his… premature departure of this world”, says Aegon, not needing too much to disclosure the reason why there’s a distance between both parts, under covered by a mutual distrust. “His suffering was short.”

“‘Tis part of our position to accept that what the Lord gives, the Lord takes.” You muse thoughtfully.

Aegon glances away. Religiosity has never been his best, even if he’s forced to play the pious.

“Ours, however, has been unnecessarily prolonged.”

The silver haired prince, who wears court garments today, looks like an empty vessel when these words reach his ears. You hope to reach out for him, but…

“Pardon?”

So close, yet so far.

You are dressing a cream silk gown with details in green and pearls. Aegon notices the result of the embroidery you’ve been working, particularly focusing at the dragons that have been so perfectly woven in the cloth.

“I’ve only meant to say…” You sigh, shaking your head as you quit. “Never mind. This battle is lost.”

Aegon scoffs at your behavior, but in retrospective could you be the one to blame when he walked away so easily?

Biting down a bitter answer, he looks down at his feet before saying:

“May we… walk around the gardens? I think we must speak.”

You cast him a long look.

Could this be?

But when this pair of lilac irises encounters yours, mirroring each other’s soul deprived free will—for where hast it been put if not casted upon the creature done in the similitude of its Creator?—it as if the divine ire has been placated at last. As if little by little all is starting to settle.

Almost if there is hope.

“Aye, lord. I do not see why not”, and when you smile, Aegon realizes this is no time to winter, but to spring. “It has been too long since we last spoke.”

So too he smiles, charmed by this woman whom he neglected by force of pride, weakened in flesh and spirit as he knows.

“True.”

In his own way, Aegon and you begin to gravitate towards each other. Thus the dragons dance.

***

• (IV)

“There is a sadness behind your eyes I cannot decipher”, Aegon muses.

You are lying on his lap. The two of you are found at the gardens in this cloud day. You like how he strokes your hair, careful, tender. A positive change in his manners in these weeks which you gladly welcome despite the early distrust.

“I think I might when I come to think about it, but I fear to dig into it…”, he proceeds. “It makes me want to demove it out of you.”

“That is kind of you, but some people are born with it, I guess”, you close your eyes, unsure where these waters are leading you to.

Though your dreams, green they might be, show you facts that come to be true, you are still frightened by them. Some of them brought you to this very moment in spite of your reluctance to it.

Here you are, though.

“I think we are rather creatures of it”, says Aegon. “And I fear that I am one of the reasons why melancholy has found solace in your heart.”

You carefully rise and contemplate your husband. Your eyes scan his handsome features, part of which mirrors yours. Lilac eyes and silver locks, but a nose and a mouth that certainly take after your mother.

Pulled by strange strings that come from above, you are reasoned by the certainty of being pawns of the gods. Regardless of never answering to them, these never answer to your family either. The clash of mortality and immortality often results in misery.

“Pride is our fall”, you muse, able to see so many tragedies in the past that lead to this current one. “It is only equaled by selfishness. We are all doomed in the end. ‘Tis the nature of us all.”

“I often wish I was worthy of being loved, made different by the divine”, so much being brought out by words and yet you are drawn by them.

“No, my dear lover; my sweet brother, we are all capable of loving… and being loved”, you tell him, capturing his face with your hands.

You rest your forehead against his. Aegon closes his eyes, swallowing the tears he’s been ashamed to keep when darkness rises.

“I am not. And I lament with the depths of my soul for it.”

“Shush now. Quiet the riots of your heart, for we are neither too pure nor too profaned, despite being creatures of sin. We can be light when there is darkness.”

“You are too pure for this world.”

Oh, the anguish. The atonement behind words that hurt like knife, so vicious is the pain these cause.

And yet your lips seek for his in attempt to mend it. Aegon is surprised by your pursuit, but he doesn’t shy away. He welcomes gleefully the sweet taste of your lips.

For the first time in a very long time, pain is left aside by another sentiment, to both of you unknown. What is this? What is this if not the spark of joy? The start of something new, where no words are sufficed to translate.

“I want you”, he whispers like a pained lover, realizing a little too late how his prideful heart and doomed soul stole him away from you for too long.

Whilst his tongue mixes with yours, you succumb to the power of gravity. Like the planets attracted to the sun, so is your heart to his. And you want to steal his misery, you want to be desired as much as you want to love this man.

Half of your soul, your other half.

“I am yours, Aegon”, you bite down his lips, letting him have his way to you when lying down the grass and pulling him over you. “Reclaim me, I beg of you.”

“I shall do as my damsel commands me to”, he gasps, breathless.

Where there was cold, there is now fire. Two dragons, two sides of the same coin, about to get burnt.

He kisses you hard, famine for your affection, desperate to reach out for you and you lift your legs to tie him in between all the whilst returning his fierce kiss, hands gripping his hair, making a mess with his silver locks.

And then…. His lips comes to your neck, biting and leaving bruises, pleased to hear small sounds out of your mouth.

His eager hands start to work on your gown, unlacing it eagerly, digging his hands possessively against your back, very clear in his selfish gesture.

“Mine, mine lady”, Aegon whispers against your chest, pausing breathlessly to contemplate the mess you are now.

Your eyes are partially closed; your red-ish lips are open in a small “o”, wanting for more, releasing these desires for so long repressed, for years repented as wrongs that should be cleansed of your soul.

“Mine lord”, you sigh in content.

And looking down at his face, you see a smile crawling over his lips, which rises to his eyes. Your heart melts and you smile too.

“I exhort you to give me a precious gift”, and you lift him so you steal a kiss out of his lips. “Your heart, your soul… I cannot sleep well at night knowing my lover is not well. Let me be your healer as Venus healed Ares when he was in his worst. For I’d go to hell and cross through damnation to save you.”

“Lady, profess naught these words, I forbid you”, and he kisses you in turn. “Unworthy I am of this gesture, this affection! I shall guard, however, your heart as the great treasure to me sent by the divine. Sinful and doomed I may be…”

“I will redeem you if you let me.”

You shush his uneasiness with another kiss. Now you lay him down, taking control of the reins. You reclaim him like he did to you, except the dragon fire makes you bolder this time.

So your kisses do not concern his lips alone: your hungry mouth captures his neck and his chest… all the whilst you unlace his pants. Starving for affection, one needs the other; a need released after being repressed under the guise of good behavior and social rules.

Oh but where’s the etiquette when your hand grips his manhood, taking it the way he likes—oh you still remember your first night together, when even under the effect of alcohol he was excited to teach you the way it’s done.

Bearing this recollection in minds, Aegon throws his head back and lets out a loud groan.

“Heavens! Oh, my lady! Never before so fair, my leof!”

His chest growing heavy, Aegon’s body is instantly warmed with fire. Eyes rolling in the back of his mind, he’s about to come undone, but not wasting his seed, he turns tables and soon you are no longer the hunter, but the prey.

That in finding pleasure you are able to bury scars of cloud days formed through pain is to delight yourself in these marital activities you and Aegon prevented each of the other in the past years.

Now he’s sliding his manhood into your core after locking your hands above your head, you comprehend at long last what these dreams are about.

Your promise prince. The hope of a yet to come spring.

‘Tis the way upon which salvation is craved: when hearts are blended and bodies are intertwined, when parted souls are one united.

***

• (V)

Politics are not the world you were educated to be part of, which is something you are content about. Unlike your mother, the former queen. This is not a field where you intend to seed your ambitions.

To many, you are content with the role delegated to you, and this isn’t completely untrue. But there are times where nights are dark…

…and full of terrors.

“Aegon”, you whisper his name, but he doesn’t respond; his snore tells how asleep he is. You sigh, but you don’t call him again.

Untangling of his arm, you roll out of bed, anxious. Another dream comes to take your peace… something no one knows, no one’s understand.

You walk barefoot towards the window and there you stand, watching through the glass the darkness above. You can still hear the screams in the back of your head, accusations, the sound of blades…

War is coming.

What is there to stop it? The ambitions of the men are seed to the inevitable. Even so, the scenes are hard to unsee.

Lost in your world, you miss Aegon’s groaning when noticing the cold you left your side of bed and not much time after coming for you.

“Y/N”, your husband snakes his arms around you waist, resting his head on your shoulder. “You look pale. Are you unwell?”

You chew your bottom lip, a sign of distress that Aegon’s familiar with. He suddenly recalls the reason why you and him were never close throughout your childhood and subsequent early adulthood: the fact you were always stuck in your own world.

A reason there was to it, but he was afraid to figure it out then.

“What bothers you, my sweet?”

As you slowly turn at him, Aegon spots tears forming in your eyes.

“You’d not understand.”

“Try me.”

You hesitate, fearful of losing him. As if he could read your thoughts, Aegon cups your face and rests his forehead against yours.

“I shall not leave your side, regardless of what it is that daunts you so.”

“You may call me witch for what I am about to tell you…”

The king chuckles.

“Hardly.”

He waits, aware that this is where you open yourself to him. Aegon can tell, by the looks you cast him, how important this is, a test of trust that will rely on his reactions.

Eventually though, with little need to reassure you that whatever that comes out he will not leave your side, Aegon holds your hands firmly and says:

“We have been under neglect for so long. We were not taught affection nor approval, or any of the values our mother praises in public. And yet here we are with the crown over our heads.” He kisses your cheek, there staying for a while. “We cannot be faulted for the sins of our parents, my wife. We are of the same blood, but we are more than that.”

It is only then you finally grant him entrance to a world where none had dared to do so. Aegon is thus told that you have inherited an ability few possessed in the Targaryen dynasty: the one of having green dreams.

Even so… here it is where one estranged couple gets intimate in the most blessed of forms: by trusting each other and overcoming former difficulties.

Indeed, a victory to the Cupid… or the Virgin Mother who brought harmony to two troubled souls.

***

• Epilogue.

War eventually makes its way to the realm. But when it does, all is settled.

“I must lead my troops against this pretender to the throne”, says Aegon in reference to their sister, Rhaenyra, who never entirely accepted to be cast aside in favour of her younger brother.

“Be mindful. She has Lord Daemon by her side”, you advise him.

“But we have Aemond by ours”, Aegon smirks at you.

As you two embrace, Aegon places a kiss on top of your forehead and a hand over your growing belly.

“Beware, my love”, says he, and you detect concern behind his eyes.

But you sweep away his concerns when you smile the brightest.

“No need to worry. You shall come back to my arms and I will perform my duty accordingly. Dare I say that more children will come in due time!”

Aegon chuckles quietly. When he smiles, no beautiful sight could have warmed your heart like this.

“Aphrodite blessed me indeed!”

He takes your hand to his lips before leading you both to the court where he expects to part with his men soon. Aemond soon comes, joined by Lady Alys, his wife.

Even though this is an unusual union for the time where low born are hardly married into high born houses, you and her got along just fine… and she’s been a good help with the dreams you have.

“This shall not be a farewell!”, says Aegon before all, in a ceremony that you are the protagonist of it. Oh, courtly nonsenses, you know, but here are the perks of being queen. “For the divine calls me to take in arms with the one who, as the same blood of ours, has been conspiring with violence and never befriending with peace!”

“The Fortune has set the path to you, my king. Be merciful, I ask.”

Aegon nods his head regally, every inch a king.

“I will keep your request in mind, my damsel!”

And to prevent a civil war, he goes, mounted in his golden horse whom he calls Sunfyre.

***

However, women are not prevented to fight their own wars even if their victories in childbed are not sang nor praised by poets and bards.

Surrounded with the women of your trust, you are now closed to a feminine world where men take no part. Curious to notice that where Aegon fights for the survival of his dynasty, you too take a similar part in delivering its success.

Amidst pain and blood, though, you perform your duties accordingly. Most would applaud your bravery in facing the process with no tears and few screams.

I am as Targaryen as any of them.

A pair of twins comes to breathe the air after the process is done. You opt to name the male after your husband, Aegon, and the female after Rhaenys. It is only fair since you come after their line.

“How is my queen doing?”, Lady Alys asks you once the labour comes to an end and the babies are taken to be cleaned.

“Good”, you smile at her, taking the hand offered and giving a slight squeeze. “Thank you.”

“More will come”, she whispers.

Your smile spreads fully.

“Oh, indeed. A victory granted by the Divine.”

“Even if the Targaryens answer to no men nor Gods”, says Alys.

Both of you chuckle.

“It is what it is”, you give your motto to your sister in law.

Towards the end of the reign of Aegon the Wise, the chronicler writes how you, successfully known as the peacemaker, set the path to other queen consorts in your queenship. Popular throughout the Seven Kingdoms, your hand extended where your husband’s could not.

For example, you helped arranging the marriages of your third child, Rhaella, with Rhaenyra’s son, Jacaerys, as well as your fourth, Hughes, with Visenya. That way you brought Rhaenyra closer to your family instead of instigating another possibly revolt. Such matches pleased her.

It all ended well.

As for you and Aegon, no successful match has been seen since King Viserys wedded Lady Aemma.

You and him found solace in each other and would remain so until the end of your days. There’s a saying in King Aegon III’s reigns that you and your husband’s bond was so strong that both of you were found dead sleeping in each other’s arms in an advanced age.

#fire and blood #house of the dragon #aegon ii x female reader #aegon ii fluff #king aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii x y/n #aegon ii x you #aegon ii fanfic #aegon ii smut #aegon the second #aegon ii #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii fic #aegon ii x oc #hotd aegon #tom glynn carney

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jellalism · 1 year ago

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Wriothesley x GN!Reader fic: Aftermath

You were one of the members of the now-disbanded Beret Society. Now that it's all over, Wriothesley invites all the people involved to his office one by one, to apologize and offer what little comfort he can.

Word count: 1677

Genre: Comfort

Content warnings: Mentions of trauma (no details)

Notes: Reader is gender neutral. Relationship can be read as either platonic or as a budding romance.

Read below or on AO3.

Before the Beret Society debacle, you and Wriothesley were on amicable terms. Not quite friends yet, but there was a mutual interest. He’d strike up a conversation when he saw you sitting at the cafeteria or when you ran into him in the halls. He had even invited you for tea once — something that turned out to be a common interest.

Then you joined the Beret Society, and it alienated you from the rest of the Fortress — including Wriothesley, your friend in the making. You wanted to talk to him, everyone in the Society wanted to talk to him in some sense, but no one had the guts or the clarity of mind. Telling the Duke everything that was going on was obviously the rational thing to do, but humans aren't as rational as they'd like to believe. A plethora of emotions is more often the root cause of actions they do or do not take. In this case, the prime emotion was fear. If the pay-off seems uncertain, and the price for failure seems infinitely steep, it is a scary thing to even consider taking that necessary action. And so everyone kept silent. You kept silent and kept your distance.

But now, Wriothesley has finally solved the case. You sit in his office. Every victim of Dougier was invited individually. Not for a stern lecture, but for comfort and apologies. From those who had gone to his office before you, you have already heard that there would even be financial compensation for Wriothesley's "lapse in delivering justice swiftly".

One by one, everyone was called to his office. It had taken a long time before your name was called. In fact, to your surprise, you had been the very last. Does he not want to see you? He may be hurt by your sudden distancing when you joined the Society, you fretted. And once you sat down inside, your worrying didn’t stop. Thoughts still whirl inside your head.

Despite the couch's comfort, your body is tense. You don't lean back against the sofa; instead, you sit upright, hands on your knees, legs close together. As if trying to take up as little space as possible; as if the very room is pressing down upon you. Wriothesley had turned on some music earlier, but even the soft tones of the piano resounding through the office don't manage to put you at ease.

"What kind of tea do you want?" His voice pulls you from your reverie.

It takes a moment for the question to register, and then another moment before you start stuttering and mumbling "I-I don't k-know, whatever you w-want."

From the corner of your eye, you see him turn around and frown.

"I'll just make you that oolong tea from Liyue that seemed to be your favorite when we were..." — he seems to weigh his words carefully — "... talking more often."

He puts a teapot warmer on the table in front of you, lights the candle below it and places the pot on top. "Now, let's let it steep for a couple of minutes." He finally sits down next to you on the sofa, but still at a respectable distance.

"Let's talk.” He takes a deep breath. “I'd like to sincerely apologize for not recognizing sooner what kind of place the Beret Society was. It has done immeasurable harm to people, and as warden of this fortress, it is my duty to prevent such things from happening. I failed. I am sorry."

You can’t find a single word to say. What is this? You knew he'd apologize, but now that it's actually happening, a flurry of unexpected emotions overtakes you. Relief and confusion, fear and happiness.

"If you want to talk about what happened, I'm here to listen. It’s the least I can do."

It’s the straw that breaks the Sumpter Beast's back. You cry. Not prettily; you bawl. The tension, built up over months, comes out all at once. You hide your face in your hands, trying to somewhat lessen the sound of your sobs, but it's to little avail. Suddenly, you feel a hand on your shoulder. Wriothesley’s hand seems hesitant, as if he's afraid to touch you. But his voice is soft and comforting: "You can cry as much as you like. It's okay. I'll be your shoulder to cry on."

You bridge the distance between you and him, burying your face in the crook of his neck. After a moment, he wraps his arms around you.

"It's okay, I'm here now. Everything is going to be alright."

You let the tears come. For several minutes, you sit like this, his warm arms wrapped around you. Then, finally, you untangle yourself from his embrace. "It was terrible." Your voice is soft and shaky, but the words come out. Wriothesley listens attentively while he pours tea and hands you a cup.

"To have that stuff injected, it's just... the worst possible nightmare."

"Mm-mm."

"And even when it's over, it's not really over. The memories are there and the fear still runs through my veins, like my whole body is riddled with it, like my whole body isn't my own, like it's possessed by an evil spirit that—" You bite your lip trying to hold back the tears.

Wriothesley's arm wraps around your shoulders again. "I'm sorry I couldn't stop it sooner. But I'm here now. You're safe. I'll do whatever I can to make you feel safe again. You won't live those nightmares again."

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I'm sorry I took my distance from you, I just—"

"Hey." He places a finger on your lips. "None of this is your fault. Don't apologize."

"But I must've hurt you!" Your voice is barely more than a whisper, but your heart seems to scream it out.

"Well, I can't deny that I was a little disappointed to see you take your distance. But I didn't want to force you to hang out with me, so I just let it be. But that last time we spoke, even though you seemed glad about your membership in the Society, I thought I saw a glimpse of fear flit behind your eyes. In truth, that's what brought me to investigate. To make sure you really were in a good place."

You stay quiet for a moment. Wriothesley did that... for you?

"In that sense, you were instrumental in solving this case. I wouldn't have been on the trail otherwise."

“Thank you.” Your voice is barely audible.

“It’s my duty and my pleasure to take care of you. It’s my job as the warden of the Fortress to make sure everyone is safe, but it’s my desire to see to your safety specifically. I’m fond of you.” He softly squeezes your shoulder reassuringly. “If there’s anything I can do for you, let me know.”

You want to speak but are a little nervous. Wriothesley notices. “Whatever it is that’s on your mind, just speak.” His tone is almost commanding, but not unpleasantly so. It’s just the push you need to speak.

“If possible…” You swallow and gather the courage to continue the sentence. “Can we stay like this a little longer? I felt so lonely for so long… I need to feel someone's warmth beside me.”

Wriothesley grins. “Why did you think you were the last person I called to my office? I have no other things to take care of today, so you can stay as long as you like.”

“Thanks,” you murmur and snuggle next to him, careful not to spill the tea you’re holding. You take a sip. It’s as good as you remember, and you close your eyes in relaxation. Wriothesley knows how to make tea the right way.

“You really do have good taste,” he says softly. You open your eyes and find him, too, sipping from his own cup. “Oolong is a tea I don’t often have by myself, but maybe I should.”

“Right?” Some amusement creeps back into your voice. It’s been a long time since that last happened. “It’s such a unique taste. It’s simultaneously delicate and strong.”

“Like you, then.” He smiles.

“I—… What?” You look at him in shock, while his smile turns into a genuinely joyful laugh.

“It’s good to see you flustered like this! I like it! But” — his tone turns more serious — “it’s also true. I know you’re hurt. What you went through is horrible. Unspeakable, in more than one sense of the word. But I have full faith that you’ll get back up. You’re strong like that.”

“Am I, though?” you whisper to yourself without thinking.

Despite speaking so softly, Wriothesley still catches your words. “I believe you are.” His words are simple, but he speaks it with such certainty and authority that you are tempted to believe him. “And if you ever feel like you can’t take it anymore, I’ll be here for you. You don’t have to walk the path to recovery alone.”

Instead of speaking, you rest your head against him and close your eyes. You’re tired. You hadn’t realized it earlier, but speaking with Wriothesley, crying against him, shaking, letting go of all the tension… You’re exhausted. And he’s so comfortable. His arm is still wrapped around you. It makes you feel warm and safe.

“Tired, huh? Rest as much as you need.”

The scent of the tea, the soft fabric of the sofa, the piano piece on the gramophone, Wriothesley’s strong arm around you, and the warmth he emanates — they all lull you into the most peaceful sleep you’ve had in months.

***

As you fall asleep, Wriothesley carefully takes the cup from your hands, still half full. He looks at you with a smile. They’re so cute. For a long time, he gazes at your sleeping form leaning against him. Then, with his free hand, he grabs a book that is, fortunately, within arm’s reach. He’s willing to stay here for a few more hours if it helps you rest, body and soul.

#genshin impact #wriothesley x reader #genshin x reader #wriothesley #wriothesley x gn reader #my writing #fanfiction #its me. im back. with the comfort #comfort is what i DOOOOO baby

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aoioozora · 7 months ago

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Simon.

Part 10

Chapters Masterlist

Character: Simon Riley / Ghost Content: Biker! Ghost x Fem! Reader, strangers to lovers, fluff, civilian au

Note: Took me too long just to get down the first draft but editing it was pleasant. Please enjoy my hard work :')

“Last man left, you broken hearted, let me treat you right…

Shorty if you need me, I could pull up any night.

You just say the words, girl, I don't need a reason…

Give me something more than just a lover on the weekend…”

Johnny's soft singing filled the quietness of the afternoon as he, Gaz, and Simon sat together on the dock, fishing rods in their hands, staring at the distant, hazy hills and the rippling water of the lake. The ladies were left to nap in the tent, while the men had their ‘boys time’, and what better way to spend it than fishing.

“Johnny,” Gaz called, shifting ever so slightly in his picnic chair so as to not disturb the movement of his fishing rod.

“Hm?”

“Stop singing, you'll scare the fish away.”

“Nonsense. Am no’ even singin’ tha’ loud.”

“Yeah, but you will get louder as you go on, so shut up.”

Johnny groaned and stopped singing. The three sat in silence again, waiting for a fish to take bait. Johnny and Gaz were relatively comfortable sitting still, as they knew that when it came to fishing, patience was the highest virtue. But Simon was antsy, and his knee bounced like a low dribbled basketball on steroids.

This was visible in Johnny’s periphery, and he grew increasingly annoyed at how it distracted him from enjoying the slower pace of the lazy afternoon. Having enough, he delivered a hard slap to Simon’s knee, and the victim let out a bellow of surprise.

“What the fuck, Johnny?!” Simon snapped, nearly getting out of his seat, ready to throw hands.

Johnny shushed him. “Stop shaking so much, ye absolute lemon,” he chided under his breath, “Whit's oan yer mind?”

“Nothing,” Simon looked sideways as he muttered quietly, now sitting back down.

Johnny and Gaz looked at each other and then rolled their eyes. Gaz quipped, “I don't know if you know, but when you shake your knee like that, it means that something’s bothering you.”

“Aye, he's right. I've seen it too,” Johnny agreed with a nod, “So, whit is it?”

Simon hesitated.

“C'mon, mate,” Gaz tried to encourage Simon, “No secrets, remember?”

Simon let out a sound that was half a sigh and half a groan. He turned to Johnny, “Fine! Johnny, do you like Lindsey?”

“Aye, I do?” Johnny answered immediately, raising his eyebrows at the question, “I thought I made it obvious?”

Simon narrowed his eyes. “I mean, for real? Do you really like her or are you just messing around like you always do?”

“Why do ye want tae ken?” Johnny’s voice now grew a little quieter.

“____ asked,” Simon answered, sitting back and sighing. He glanced at his friend, who was looking back at him. “She wants to know if you're serious about her. And from the looks of it, she won't take kindly to you playing around.”

Johnny's lips pursed into a thin line when he heard this, and he too sat back in his chair, now silent and thoughtful. Gaz and Simon stared at him, waiting for an answer.

“I do like her, she's bonny,” he answered quietly with a shrug, the look on his face a little distant and dreamy.

“You say that to every woman you talk to,” Simon retorted, though he was a little surprised by the rare look on his friend's face, a look he'd seen only once.

“No, no. Wait,” Gaz hushed Simon, “He's not done.”

Johnny shifted in his seat and continued, now a little solemn, “Am serious. I like her… a lot. She's bonny, and cute… she has nice hair and,” he smiled a little, “a face like a mouse. Squeaks a lot like one too.”

Simon glanced at Gaz, who looked back at him with a smirk on his face. They waited for him to elaborate.

“That's all ye will get,” Johnny huffed, sitting back on his chair. In reality, the attraction he felt for Lindsey couldn't be put into words. Something about her bashfulness, her feistiness, her cute pouts and frowns, and particularly her glowing, gorgeous green eyes that reminded him of the rolling Highlands tickled a spot in his heart that he had long closed away.

Gaz began teasing Johnny, giving him light and playful pushes and shoves. Johnny, a little embarrassed, swatted his friend’s hands away while laughing and trying to counter Gaz’s teasing. Simon watched their banter, particularly looking at Johnny. He found his best friend’s behaviour peculiar, something he’s never personally seen before.

He knew Johnny to be a smooth talker, a man who knew just the right words to say to make a woman fall head over heels for him. Johnny’s normal behaviour with a casual crush or fling was to talk incessantly and excitedly about them as if to overcompensate for the shallow feelings, but when it came to Lindsey, it was almost surprising to see him so solemn, so quiet, so thoughtful, even dreamy.

Simon was more-or-less now convinced that his best friend really did like Lindsey and let out a sigh of relief on behalf of ____ as he turned his focus on the still waters.

When the Gaz-Johnny banter died down, Johnny then turned to Simon to ask, “Whit about ye?”

“What about me?” Simon returned, confused.

“With ____, ye lemon. How’s it going with her?”

He paused, sitting back on the picnic chair and tucking an arm under his head as he shrugged. “It’s going.”

“Where?”

“Somewhere.”

Johnny and Gaz looked at eachother. “Whit ye mean?” Johnny raised a brow, “Stop bein’ so vague.”

“I think she likes someone else,” he mumbled, staring ahead across the lake with a blank, expressionless look, trying to sound like he wasn’t bothered.

The two looked at each other again, incredulous of what he claimed and unconvinced by his tone of voice. “Impossible,” Gaz quipped, “Have you seen her? The way she looks at you tells me she wants you to eat her whole or something.”

Johnny snorted at that and then backed Gaz up with his own observations. “Did ye ken I sent her tae help ye out with the wood? Ye should’ve seen her face. She flew aff.” It was a bit of an exaggeration, but Johnny needed to get his point across.

Simon turned to Johnny, raising a brow and shaking his head. “No way. You’re just saying.”

“No mate, I’m serious,” Johnny answered, now getting a little impatient as he stared at Simon, annoyed by his best friend’s obstinance. “Ye never dae this, Simon, but if ye want somethin’, ye gotta ask, ye ken?”

“Ask what?”

Johnny groaned loudly. “Ye fuckin’ doughnut, ask her if she likes ye.”

“You’re off your head,” Simon retorted, “I’m not so daft to take a risk that big.”

“Then ask her if she likes that bloke,” he reasoned, only to see Simon giving him the side-eye. Johnny, finally losing his patience, gave his friend a slap on the back of his head. “Just fuckin’ ask her. Don’t be such a pussy. Imagine the endless possibilities, Simon, imagine! If ye weren’t such a fuckin’ pussy.”

“Alright, fine!” Simon relented as he rubbed the back of his head, having enough of being called a pussy so many times for one day.

Johnny looked at Gaz and shook his head like a disappointed parent, making Gaz smile and shrug. The Scotsman turned back to Simon and gave him one long look, saying with a sigh, “I havnae seen ye like this before, mate. Yer usually fearless.”

Simon rubbed his cheek, particularly the scarred one. “No experience in this department,” he admitted.

“Hm,” Johnny exhaled, allowing his eye to linger on the long scar on his friend’s cheek, the reason for his inexperience.

When the last rays of the sun set behind the hills, the men ended their fishing, sadly returning with only a small handful in their bucket. Simon was sent to the tent to check on the ladies while Johnny and Gaz decided to head to the cabin to gut the fish and prepare a marinade so that they could grill them over the fire later.

“____? Lindsey?” called Simon as he entered the tent and moved towards the room they occupied. There was no answer.

He took hold of the zipper to open the entrance, but hesitated, not wanting to possibly catch them in a vulnerable position somehow. He cursed his upbringing, that he never had any sisters he could barge in on to annoy; unzipping this entrance would be a lot easier otherwise.

He called once again. No answer. He didn’t want to be called a pussy again, so he slowly unzipped the entrance a little and peered in.

In the dim darkness, he could vaguely see the two ladies fast asleep, cuddled like a litter of kittens. He shook his head, thinking to himself, “Women can do the gayest things and nobody bats an eyelid.” But that was the least of his concern at the moment, for when his eyes adjusted to the dimness, he noticed that ____ cuddled Little Simon to her chest.

Bigger Simon immediately zipped the entrance close and stood there in a daze, unable to stop himself from imagining replacing Little Simon, having the privilege of his arms around her waist, her arms around his neck, and his face nestled in her chest, no space between their bodies, cuddled and breathing each other in. His dirty little mind took it a step further and imagined him and her naked, but he caught himself and shook his head, feeling his cheeks start to burn.

“Get a hold of yourself, Simon,” he reminded himself, “You can’t think of her like that.”

He took out his phone and decided to wake the ladies up in the worst way possible: using the jarring sound of the alarm. They woke up immediately; as expected, Lindsey did not appreciate being woken up and mumbled some curses at Simon, while ____ was a little disoriented from the heavy sleep, even asking what year it was.

Before long, the five were soon seated on the wooden benches in front of the blazing fire pit under the now darkening sky, watching the fish grill over the open flames. Johnny and Gaz passed the time singing as he usually did, while Lindsey, though not a singer herself, tried to join.

Johnny eventually did not want to sit still, so he snatched Lindsey by the hand and coaxed her to dance with him.

“No!” she exclaimed with flaming cheeks as she saw the three others looking at her with teasing grins.

“C’mon Jolene, yer no’ dancin’ alone! Am here too!” He noticed that she was trying to pry her hand out of his grip, which made him hold on tighter.

“Have some fun for once, Linny!” encouraged ____, smiling widely.

“Ye heard her,” Johnny grinned and pulled Lindsey to her feet. “We’ll dae it ceilidh style!”

Before she said another word, he already wrapped an arm around her waist and started hopping around with her and twirling her around while singing ‘Highland Girl’. Though she had been and danced in enough ceilidhs before, she still scrambled to hold on to Johnny’s shoulder and manage to keep up with his quick pace and tempo of the song. Though she stumbled occasionally, he kept her from falling, and her constant slip ups didn’t keep him from losing his patience or energy.

“I didn’t know that I fell in love, in love with my Highland girl,” he sang, and he just had to gaze at her with those big blue eyes of his into her green ones. Time slowed for the both of them as he pulled her closer to himself and grinned out of sheer joy at the way her freckled cheeks flushed red both out of shyness and exertion, and at how the fire cast a warm glow over her face and her fiery red hair that swayed as they danced.

He felt his chest swell as he looked at her, really and genuinely feeling like he was falling in love with this Highland girl in front of him. Lindsey felt no less. Their friends watched on, cheering, teasing, and encouraging them to keep dancing, happy to see the two so close to each other.

____ watched fondly, her eyes softening at how Lindsey eventually smiled and laughed as she danced with Johnny. Simon, who was sitting close next to her, saw the warm look on her face and smiled to himself.

“So,” he began, now leaning close to her so he could whisper, “I asked Johnny.”

“Mmhm,” she nodded eagerly, smiling. Simon noted the twinkle in her eye and could already tell that she knew what the answer would be.

“He does like her,” he confirmed, watching her closely for her reaction.

Her face broke into a bigger smile and she turned to the dancing pair, a fonder and warmer look in her eyes. “I can see it,” she answered, voice light with relief.

Simon couldn’t help but stare at her smile and at how the fire brightened up her eyes. His own dark eyes softened and his shoulders relaxed slightly as he watched her.

By this time, Lindsey needed a break and Johnny let her have one, though he wanted to dance some more. He danced with Gaz next, who was happy to oblige.

As Simon and ____ watched them and laughed, he discreetly lifted his arm and put it on the back rest right behind her, though he was itching to put it around her shoulders and pull her closer to him. She noticed this, and instinctively moved closer to him. He gulped harshly, feeling his entire body go stiff.

Wanting to make some small talk, he asked, flashing a boyish smirk at her, “You sleep alright, darling?”

“Yeah, like a log until you came in with your wonderful alarm,” she nudged his side with her elbow, feigning annoyance.

He chuckled. “You're welcome.”

There was a pause and he saw her take out her phone. His attention was turned back to his dancing friends until it returned to the lady next to him when he heard her giggle. Wondering if she too was watching the dancing, turned to her to make a comment about it, but instead found her giggling at her phone. A quick glance told him that she was texting someone, and a slightly longer, nosier glance told him that it was Alejandro.

He drew in a sharp breath, clenching his fists slightly. His earlier anger shot up again, and he pulled his arm off the back rest, and crossed it over his chest, now deciding that watching the fish grill was more interesting. When she was done texting, he asked,

“How's Alejandro doing, by the way?” Not that he cared.

“He's alright. He was texting me just now. Said he didn't see me come out of my place this weekend to go out so I told him I was out camping.” she explained.

Simon's arms crossed tighter. “What a fucking stalker,” he thought.

“He said he wanted to join us next time.” she added.

Simon's brow furrowed. He regretted even asking about that man. “I see,” he said through his teeth, appalled by his audacity, especially when he wasn't a close friend of hers.

Now was his chance to ask her about what she thought of him, and he took it immediately. “I'm curious about one thing, darling,” began Simon. She looked at him attentively. “Do you… like him?”

She looked at him with surprise and then exclaimed, laughing, “No! Goodness, no, Simon. I don't.”

Simon couldn't hold back a sigh of relief. “You don't?” he asked, hiding his excitement, “I thought you did. He seems cool.”

She looked at him, an eyebrow raised. “You think he's cool? I thought you didn't like him. Especially after how nicely you greeted him when you first met him.”

He shook his head, chuckling. “I said I would be the “protective boyfriend”, so that's what I was doing.” He felt his face turn hot, a little afraid of how observant she was. “Either way,” he decided to steer the conversation in a slightly different direction, “I was thinking you liked him, and so I thought that if you did, I could stop pretending to be your boyfriend and get out of your way. And you wouldn’t have to come with me to my family reunion.” His face started turning hotter again as he felt like his words were coming out all jumbled up.

She chuckled again. “Oh, no. It's nothing like that. He's just a neighbour to me, just a friend.”

He smiled. “Alright then.” Simon exhaled slowly; he was tired of how volatile his feelings had been in the course of that single day, soaring high only to dive down deep and then to soar again.

The fish was soon grilled and everyone feasted on them. After that, the marshmallows came out, which they put on skewers and toasted over the fire.

Johnny announced, “We should play ‘Simon Says’!” which earned the chuckles of everyone except Simon.

“Not this again,” Simon rolled his eyes as he sandwiched the gooey marshmallow and a piece of chocolate between two biscuits to make a smore.

“Come oan!” Johnny coaxed, “Yer no fun!”

Simon relented, “Alright, alright,”

Johnny grinned and the others sat ready looking at Simon, ready for his orders.

Simon cleared his throat and said, “Simon says… stop playing Simon says.”

Everyone collectively groaned and protested, making Simon chuckle uncontrollably.

“Och, sod off, mate! I’ll make Gaz Simon,” Johnny declared, shaking his head at Simon, who was more than happy to oblige.

Gaz took the place of Simon and ordered everyone to do the most outrageous actions, even a whole dance routine that the ladies completely butchered, until everyone’s sides started to hurt from laughing too much. Johnny had to take over soon enough to end Gaz’s reign of “terror”, and everyone had their turn as well.

After a few more games and marshmallows eaten, Johnny decided he'd sing one last song before they'd extinguish the fire and head off to bed because he “wanted to sing ye all tae sleep”.

Over the silent air, the fire over the crackling wood danced with the gently blowing breeze whilst the chirp of insects filled the relaxing silence. The four, tired from playing and laughing, sat still, waiting to hear Johnny.

He began softly and sweetly to sing,

“Oh, my love said to me, “will you meet me by the sea?”

You can kiss me underneath the misty moon…”

He stole a cheeky glance at Lindsey, who frowned at him and shyly looked away. He continued, still looking at her,

“She is stunnin’, she is pretty, she's as warm as amber whisky,

And as bonny as a heather on the hill.”

____ smiled and giggled at his openly flirtatious display. She was so focused on them that she didn't see how Simon stared at her.

“When I was a young boy, my mother said to me,

“Find yourself a pretty lass, don't take her love for free”

From the fields of Aberfeldy to the shores of Loch Maree

I know that she's the only one for me.”

His arm went over the backrest of the bench again, right behind her, and when she leaned against him just a tad, he felt the irresistible urge to put his arm around her shoulders and hug her, this stunning, pretty woman, who was warm as amber whisky and more bonny than a thousand heathers on a thousand hills.

The singing made everyone slouch in their seats out of relaxation, and Simon sat back with a sigh, letting his itchy arm lightly graze against her shoulder. The lady next to him was highly aware of his closeness, and again, she thought of the moment at the arcade. She looked up at him, only to find him staring right at her with his lips slightly parted. She met his eye, feeling a flutter tickle her stomach.

“Simon?” she called softly, lightly tapping his thigh.

He blinked, realising he was staring. “Yeah?” he asked, turning his head away slightly, embarrassed to have been caught.

“You’re staring,” she teased, echoing his own remark to her when they went out before.

He chuckled. “Sorry darling, I was just…” he met her eye, “thinking of something,” he said, giving her a fond smile.

“Was it me?” she wondered, but instead smiled.

They listened to the rest of Johnny’s song, and by the time he ended, nearly everyone was sleepy and yawning. Johnny thanked his audience for listening to his constant singing, pretending to be a famous singer ending a concert, even exaggeratedly bowing to them and earning chuckles and soft applause from his friends. They extinguished the fire and took their plates back to the cabin to wash and gathered their snacks to seal and keep them away.

Just as they gathered in the tent to retire for the night, Johnny announced, “Remember lads, we’re hiking tae see the sunrise tomorrow, so ye all better be ready! We ride at the asscrack of dawn!”

“Alright, that’s enough screaming now. Let’s sleep.” Gaz caught Johnny in a chokehold and pulled him into one of the two rooms in the tent.

“Make sure tae kiss the homies good night!” Johnny called out laughingly from the room. He even blew a good night kiss to Lindsey, but she just rolled her eyes and went inside the other room in the tent, huffing and blushing.

The men and ladies exchanged their good-nights and tucked into their sleeping bags. From all the noise in the other room, the ladies could tell that Johnny still hadn’t settled down. Eventually, Simon and Gaz had to scold him, and he soon quieted, making the ladies in the other room giggle to themselves.

Lindsey didn’t take too long to fall asleep, but ____ was wide awake thanks to her very heavy afternoon nap. It was past eleven-thirty when she took out her phone to work on the novel and jot down chapter outlines and her notes and observations of Simon, which would eventually be twisted and bent into a shape fitting for Frederick. Sleep still didn’t come to her, even much past midnight.

Tired of staring at her phone in the darkness, she closed her aching, strained eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. Sleep would not come anytime soon so, “I suppose a walk would help,” she figured.

Tucking Little Simon under her arm, she carefully slipped past her sleeping best friend and out of the tent without a sound and walked over the damp grass towards the lake and stood at the dock, watching the water ripple under the moonlight and the faraway hills bathed in it. Basked in the gentle light, she looked up at the distant stars, twinkling without a care, and inhaled the cool air of the night. She walked by the pebbled banks for a while, enjoying their soft clatter as she stepped over them, until a soft breeze brought in the clouds, making a light rain descend.

Not yet wanting to go back to the tent, she made her way to the cabin to sit on the porch to watch the world and the rain go by. In the dim darkness, she saw a large shadow sitting on the wooden bench.

“Hey, you can’t sleep either?” asked the familiar rough, gravelly voice of the shadow.

“Simon?”

End of Part 10.

Part 11

Simon lore in the next chapter! Leave a comment if you want to be tagged for the next part :) Thank you for reading <3

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cyren-myadd · 2 months ago

Note

Avatar official account posted their screenplay of the Sullys arrived at the Metkayina clan on their TikTok. This part here caught my eye. Neytiri has a secret shame that her kids are half half-human.

What's your thoughts?

oh man, I have some really mixed feelings about this ngl...

First thing I want to say before I get into my rant is remember that not everything in the old script is canon, so Neytiri feeling ashamed of her children isn't canon as of right now, but there's a possibility this will be confirmed in a later movie.

A little self-disclosure, I'm engaged to a guy who is from a different race and culture than me, and I'd like to have a kid with him at some point. My partner and I have discussed the fact that our kids would be mixed, and we've already made plans to teach them both of our native languages and make sure they're exposed to both of our cultures. Even though my kids will be different from me in some ways, I don't care, I'll still love them no matter what and I can't imagine ever being ashamed of their differences-- especially since I was the one who chose to have children with a man who was a different race/culture.

While Avatar is completely fictional, the romance between Jake and Neytiri is a clear allegory for a real-life mixed-race couple, with their children's "hybrid" traits being an allegory for real-life mixed-race children feeling insecure about their features. Obviously, not everything is a one-to-one allegory, since Neytiri has been directly and violently victimized by Jake's people and most modern mixed-race couples in my country deal with more systemic forms of oppression instead, but the allegory is still there.

To be completely honest, if the writers actually follow through with this line from the script and show Neytiri being ashamed of her children on-screen, I might actually start to hate Neytiri. Her other character flaws, like her chauvinism, her resistance to change, and her hypocrisy about Jake vs Spider, are completely understandable, especially since she's been through unbelievable amounts of trauma because of humans. I still like Neytiri a lot even with her flaws. But being ashamed her own kids? The kids she chose to birth/adopt, knowing they were hybrids? These two babies right here?

I am really, really trying to be understanding here, 'cause Neytiri's been through trauma that I could never imagine, but still... ma'am those are YOUR babies. I don't think any kind of trauma justifies being ashamed of your children for something they have no control over.

Whenever I see that screenshot, all I can imagine is Kiri or Lo'ak finding out their mom feels ashamed of them. Could you imagine? They would be absolutely crushed. I think Lo'ak especially would have some kind of a crisis over it, since he's already so insecure about being a hybrid. Even Miles freaking Quaritch, the vengeful colonizing monster, isn't ashamed of his son being so different from him.

For the record, I know the only reason I feel so strongly about this is because I'm projecting my own feelings about being in a mixed-race relationship and planning to have mixed-race kids onto Neytiri. But I feel the way I feel, and if this ever becomes canon I would never be able to look at her the same way, so I'm hoping this idea stays in the old script and never sees the light of day again.

No matter what happens, this is James Cameron's story, and I trust him to deliver a fantastic movie even if I don't like everything about it. Besides, this is only one line. It doesn't go in-depth into the nuances of Neytiri's feelings. Maybe if they choose to go with this concept and flesh it out better, I'll change my mind about it, who knows.

I'm also gonna add this here, cause I know how tumblr is: these are just my personal feelings on the topic-- my personal feelings that are completely subjective and are greatly effected by my own life experiences. I know some people like this idea and think it would be a great thing to explore for Neytiri's character, and if you think that, then great, good for you, no hate to anyone with a different opinion.

#cyren myadd theorizes #avatar #neytiri sully #neytiri

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jazzthatonewriterchick · 2 months ago

Text

HE COMES AT NIGHT (Vampire!Zoro x Black!Fem!Reader 18+ One Shot)

Pairing: Zoro Roronoa x Black!Fem!Reader

Synopsis: You suddenly find out why the people in the village you recently moved to become so strange at night when you discover that the legend Zoro Roronoa, the bloodthirsty Swordsman, is real. And he’s got his sights set on those who wander the streets after sundown and don’t believe in him…that being you.

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINORS GTFO); Period Piece AU; Porn w/ Plot; Stalking; Horror/Fantasy; Supernatural; Dubcon/R*pe; Knife Play; Stripping; Forced Deepthroat; Cunnilingus; Mating Press; Breeding Kink; Dom!Zoro + sub!Reader; Black-Coded!Reader; Cum Play; Biting; Blood Play; Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer’s Note: Three one shots in one day. There’s something wrong with me. Take my laptop AWAY. Enjoy!! -Jazz 🖤🖤

Japanese Term Wordbank:

Minka — A traditional Japanese house; translates to “house of the people”

Kimono — Traditional Japanese garment & national dress of Japan

Sake — A alcoholic beverage from Japan; can be served hot, cold or room temp; often enjoyed with Asian cuisine & appetizers

**********

The new village you’ve recently moved to is….strange.

Or rather, the villagers are. And you feel awful and terribly guilty for thinking this way. They are an extremely kind, humble, generous, and helpful group of individuals. Living in a small village means community to them, such as watching children when their parents aren’t home; carrying groceries for senior citizens; delivering gifts to homes for birthdays and housewarmings…

And warning those to be inside by nightfall.

You were lucky enough to fall victim to the villagers’ kindness and hospitality when you moved to the quaint little village of rolling hills, forests, small businesses, and hanoks just a month ago. You were freshly out of your parents’ home to pursue a career in the medical field and were accepted into a medical program to become a nurse just five months ago.

Your parents were originally apprehensive about the idea, but after seeing how small and low in crime the village is, and how close your new home would be to your class location, they allowed you to move. Immediately, your neighbors delivered cakes, bottles of sake, and good wishes to you. It made you feel at home.

You are now aware of how sweet and humble these people are, but you’re also aware of how superstitious they are too. It’s not as simple as your mother leaving a candle in her dark house to ward off spirits when you were young or not walking under a ladder.

You started noticing it while walking home from your classes with your friend from school in the evening time. Your classes, which begin in the afternoon at 11 AM sharp, end every evening at 5 PM just as the last of the autumn sun glints over the horizon and the small village before nightfall.

And every evening, like clockwork, small businesses close their doors for the night. Parents urge their children in the house after playing all afternoon. You had thought it was nothing at first, but then you started noticing more strange things: curtains being drawn; lanterns and candles being snuffed so the entire village is dark as night; homeowners putting candles and expensive sake on their doorsteps.

One day while walking to dinner in your flowery kimono and carrying your medical book for studying and wicker basket for your lunch, you decide to ask your friend about it. She’s been living in the village since birth and you bonded over your shared love for cooking and cute men.

”Hey, hold on a second,” you call to her from up the trail. You decided since it’s Friday and you were dismissed early to go for dinner at a ramen place she knows about just up the road from your school…with the intention of coming home before dark, of course.

She stops, turning to you in her own pretty kimono and slippers. “What’s wrong?” She asks, concerned before grinning at you. “Those spicy rice balls making you nervous now? You seemed so confident earlier.”

You roll your eyes at her teasing. “No, it’s not about the food. It’s about that food.” You point at the offering sitting on the steps of a Minka. Perfectly sculpted rice balls, a bowl of fresh fruit, and a bottle of sake with a cup sit there surrounded by vibrant red flowers.

“What’s this for?” you curiously ask your friend. “I see people leaving food out all of the time. Is it an offering or…”

Your question trails off when you catch your friend’s expression. She looks absolutely terrified, her eyes wide and her body stiff. “You mean…you don’t know?” She softly asks, like someone will hear her. “No one told you?”

You scowl at her, confused. Is she joking with you? “Told me what?” you demand. “What do you mean by that?” Your friend looks around to make sure no one is listening. You find that odd too. “C’mon,” she whispers, waving you along. “I’ll explain at dinner.” You tentatively follow, your hairs standing up on end for some reason.

Your friend keeps her promise. While at dinner, over a plate of spicy rice balls, two small bowls of miso ramen, and a bottle of Kamikokoro Peach Sake, she starts explaining the ways of her people. She leans in like she’s telling a scary story, eyes narrowed and her hands planted firmly on the table.

“Long ago, hundreds of years before us, a swordsman once lived here. He was known throughout the land and beyond for his great craft of fighting with his swords. He is said to have carried three—two in his hands and one in his mouth between his teeth. He went by the name Zoro Roronoa.”

You are already giggling, sipping more of the sweet sake as you listen to the obviously-made-up story. Who the fuck carries a sword in their mouth?

“His name still puts fear in the hearts of those who know it, so much so that it’s only whispered. One day, the swordsman died. It’s still unclear how it happened—some say it was illness; others say he was brutally murdered by an enemy…but he didn’t die. Not in the way all humans do.”

You quirk a brow at her, playing along in her game as the sake makes you feel fuzzy and warm. “His body was discovered, but he wasn’t buried. When a casket was bought and a grave was dug for him, his body suddenly vanished without a trace.”

Now you really laugh. There is no way she can believe this is real! “As time went on, villagers started disappearing in the dead of night. If they were lucky, their bodies would be found the next morning completely slashed, sliced, and diced.”

She takes a sip of her sake, calm and cool. “Almost as if a sword had gotten them,” she adds. You feel a sudden chill and wrap your kimono tighter around yourself.

“It became a pattern in the village: people who were foolish enough to walk at night would fall victim to Zoro the Swordsman. If they were completely spirited away and not found, their bodies would come up completely unrecognizable.”

“But why?” you find yourself asking. “Just because people are out at night, he goes and kills them?”

Your friend’s eyes widen and she shakes her head. “Oh, Y/N, no. People who know of him aren’t out past sundown. The people who are are disbelievers. Those are the people Zoro goes after.”

You scowl at her, confused and becoming irritated with this supernatural BS story. “He thrives off of belief,” she explains. “It fuels him and makes him more powerful…it also keeps him away. But if you happen to be one of those unlucky souls that come across him at night, you’ll be responsible for fueling his bloodlust. Zoro is said to be a merciful being.”

“And this was a real person?” you smirkingly ask. “Not just some urban legend or spooky story to keep bad kids inside at night?”

Your friend sighs and shakes her head like you’re deluded. “He’s not just either one of those things. He’s considered so much more here—a God to some, a demon to others, but he is worshiped and his rules are closely followed…unless you have a death wish.”

She pauses to slurp down her ramen and so do you, the food suddenly tasting like paste. “Have you seen him before?” You curiously ask.

Your friend looks like you just admitted to murder. “Are you insane?! No way! I’m always in the house before sundown. I’m not trying to get killed!”

You cock your head at her. “Then how do you know he’s even real, hm? How does anyone know this supernatural swordsman even exists?”

Once again, your friend shakes her head at you. “Just because you don’t see him doesn’t mean he’s fake. The bodies that have popped up around here are proof of that. But you keep acting like he’s a bullshit bedtime story.”

She reaches across to play with a loose strand of your hair. “He likes pretty little things like you…pretty, careless little things that don’t believe and refuse to believe.” You swat her away and you both laugh, but her words make something in your stomach roil.

The rest of dinner is normal and filled with laughs. You polish off the rest of your sake with ease along with your supper, feeling full and drunk once you finish. Your friend asks if she can walk you home, but you decline. “I’m a big girl,” you drunkenly giggle. “I’m only a two-minute walk away.”

Your friend looks worried, but hugs you nonetheless. “Just get home safe and be very careful. It’s already nightfall.” She looks around the dark, semi-empty streets with concern and alert, but you don’t. The alcohol makes you feel fuzzy, giddy, and a false sense of security.

But once you wave farewell to your friend and depart, heading off in the opposite direction, that security fades. You suddenly become hyper-aware of how…empty the streets are. They are completely deserted except for an animal here and there-a stray dog; a hooting owl; a fox scurrying into a bush).

There is no sign of a human anywhere.

Swallowing roughly, you keep a hand on the small knife your father forced you to take with you and keep your footsteps brisk yet careful. Your walk is short. All you have to do is keep walking. You don’t think about turning around to run back to your friend or to the restaurant (it’s probably closed, anyway).

You don’t think about how dark and quiet it is. You only think about your bed and how good it’s going to feel once you’re in it.

Yes, your fluffy, warm bed. Your cozy, warm home. Nothing bad happens there. Nothing can hurt you there. Nothing can—

“Stop.”

The voice comes out of nowhere. It is unfamiliar and deep, but also soft and quiet. It blends with the wind, but it is so distinctly manly that you know that it’s not the wind at all. And what do you do? You stop, out of shock. Turning around, you grip your knife harder as you peer down the cobbled road and row of dark, quiet homes.

“Hello?” you call.

You see nothing. You hear nothing. No voices, anyway. Figuring it’s just your paranoia, you turn and keep walking a little faster this time. “I said stop,” the voice, again, demands. He—whoever he is—sounds irritated this time. There is an angry rasp in his tone that sends shivers up your spine.

You turn around again and this time, you do see something…or someone. All you see is a shadowy figure…a big, bulky, shadowy figure with broad shoulders and towers over you despite it being feet away. You squint at it in the darkness, perplexed and afraid. “W-Who are you?” You shakily ask. “Why are you following me?”

The man, or what you think is a man, doesn’t respond. He just stands there. Menacingly.

“Sir?” you call. “Can I help you with something? If not, I need you to stop following me or—“

”You didn’t listen,” he says. His voice is deep and raspy echoing across the empty courtyard. It shocks you to your core and immediately, your intuition kicks in. You feel your stomach drop and the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Suddenly, his hand moves to the long handle jutting out of his side. A sword. “What?” You gasp, finding your voice again.

“I said. You didn’t listen.”

He slides the sword out of the sheathe at his side. The metal glints in the moonlight, stealing your breath away.

“You didn’t listen to your friend, so now you’re mine.”

Slowly, he lifts the sword to his mouth and licks it, his pink, pierced tongue sliding down the silver blade. A smirk appears on his lips along with a menacing glint in his eye that sends shivers down your spine.

He’s real. Zoro the Swordsman is real. “O-Oh, my God,” you whisper. You back away, your body shivering, but he only steps forward. “Don’t run from me,” he growls. “It’ll do you good to stay exactly where you are. I’ll catch you.”

You don’t listen. Fear has taken over, kicking your fight or flight switch on. You choose the latter. “Stay away!” you scream. “Stay away from me!”

Quickly, you turn around and begin to blindly run away, your shoes furiously clicking across the cobblestones. You think you hear the swordsman behind you, but you don’t turn around to look. You’re too scared.

You run and run and run, pumping your legs even as they burn. Tears begin to spring into your eyes as your desperation and terror increase, pumping more adrenaline in your body. You can’t die out here. You can’t. Not like this. So you continue to run, dodging between buildings and dark corners to hide yourself even as the moon glows above.

Then you finally see your neighborhood and run faster, puffs of air leaving your lips. When you finally, thankfully, make it to your front door, you look back to see if he’s still there. All you see are swaying trees and dark houses. He is nowhere in sight. You’ve lost him.

You laugh in relief, almost hysterical. You’ve never been so happy to see your front door before. Quickly, you dig into your bag for your keys and fumble a bit with them, not quite able to get your door key together because of your shaky hands. “Come on, come on,” you whimper, your nerves frazzled.

This lapse in judgment and calmness would be enough for any predator to sneak up and take advantage of you…and it is. Suddenly, you’re being pushed against your door by a big, muscular frame and your keys are tumbling to the ground. You let out a scream, but it’s quickly muffled by Zoro’s big hand and thick, ring-covered fingers.

“You’re a cute little thing,” he growls, “but you’re also very stupid. I told you not to run. I told I’d catch you. And you still ran.” You feel him press harder against you, his knee wedging between your thighs. “But I also like stubbornness. Makes it a lot more fun.”

His chuckle sends shivers down your spine. “Pwease!” you say behind his hand. He moves it away to let you speak freely, still trapping you against him.

“Please,” you sob. “Please don’t hurt me. I-I’ll give you whatever money you want, just don’t—!”

“Shut up,” he demands, sounding enraged by the idea. You quickly button your lip despite the soft sobs spilling from you. “Don’t disrespect me like that. I don’t want your fucking money.” Confused, you turn your head slightly to look at him. He is truly a handsome man with emerald, green hair cropped short, crimson eyes, and three gold earrings dangling from his right ear.

“T-Then what do you want?” you whimper.

Zoro reaches a hand over you to grasp the doorknob, magically unlocking the door. “Open the door slowly,” he whispers. “Don’t turn on the light.” He gets off of you, but the sharp tip of his sword stops you from celebrating too much.

With a sob, you turn the knob, open your door, and walk into your small, quiet, dark living area. The floral scent wafting through the air does nothing to relax you as it would after an exhausting day. You hear the door shut behind you and begin to cower, your knees nearly buckling on yourself. Here you are. Alone. In the dark. With a murderous urban legend.

Your mind tries to desperately grasp from straws. For any kind of logic. How is this happening? Are you really that drunk? Did you pass out somewhere and you’re dreaming? Is he just a nightmare? A ghost, maybe?

“Look at me,” Zoro raspily demands. “Take a look at the legend himself.”

Slowly, you turn to him and there he is standing in the moonlight pouring in through your draped window. He is big and tall, towering over you at around six feet. He is built like a tank, sinewy with muscle. Broad shoulders. Big arms. Big pectorals. Big legs. Big everything. In other circumstances, you’d be climbing him like a tree.

The swordsman stands before you, staring you down, his face illuminated by the silver glow of the moon. “You didn’t believe in me. You didn’t heed your friend’s warnings. Now you face the consequences.”

His pink lips curl into a smirk. “Me.” He grips his sword at his side.

Your knees buckle and you press your hands together in a prayer. The effects of the alcohol have begun to fade, leaving you horribly sober. ”Please!” you beg, crying hysterically. “Don’t hurt me! I-I’m new here and I didn’t know! I’m so sorry I disrespected you!”

Zoro rolls his eyes, the most human thing he’s done in the time you’ve known him. ”Too late for that,” he scoffs.

But then he pauses, thinking on it for a moment. “But I suppose I could teach you a lesson without this.” He slides his sword into his sheathe and stupid hope blooms inside of you.

“I think I have another special sword for this punishment.” His smirk turns into a twisted smile that you don’t like at all. ”W-What do you mean?” you whisper.

You think you know, but you’re hoping to God almighty that you’re just being paranoid. Unfortunately, your intuition is right as Zoro takes a step towards you, his smile fading. “Take off your robe,” he demands. His voice is low and not up for the games.

But even so, your dumb, sluggish mind still struggles to “W-What?” you softly gasp. Zoro makes a face, absolutely dumbfounded by your stupidity. “You can’t be this dumb. I said take off your robe.” His hand goes for his sword again. “Or do I have to do it for you?”

He stares you down, silently daring you to disobey him. With a sob of defeat, you lower your basket and begin to disrobe, your fingers trembling and slipping from the knot holding your kimono together.

“Hurry up,” Zoro growls, impatient but also growing harder as he watches you. You can tell from the bulge in his pants that pushes against his black slacks. You go as quickly as possible and finally reveal yourself to him.

Zoro hums in appreciation at the sight of your body. You, however, just shiver and quake in humiliation and fear at being exposed in front of this…this monster. Your nipples are hard from the chill, the fear, and…maybe even arousal? Even now, you can feel a warm tingle between your thighs where, luckily, your lace panties are. How can this be?

The swordsman strides towards you and unsheathes one of his swords. “Please,” you whisper, your skin both hot and cold.

Ignoring you, he takes the tip of the sword and gently drags it down your midsection, keeping the pressure light and slow. You only feel the slight point glide against your skin, causing goose pimples to explode across your body.

Snip.

You gasp, realizing that Zoro has cut through your panties at the speed of light without you even knowing. He then grabs you with his free hand, gripping your arm. You begin to push away from him, struggling against his chest. “No!” you shout. “Don’t! Just leave me be!”

”Silence!” he barks, loud enough to wake the entire neighborhood and scare the moon away.

His voice then dips low, turning soft as he sheaths his sword. “I just want to touch you.” He uses the back of his hand to stroke your cheek. You cringe at his touch. ”So soft,” he sighs. “So pretty…”

His eyes, the color of blood, soften at the sight of you. He looks at you and touches you as if you’re a lover. Not a victim. He suddenly leans in, bending his knees slightly to reach you.

“Please,” you whisper again, but your words are swallowed up by a kiss. His lips are pillowy, soft, and sweet, and they taste like wine. They are unlike any lips you’ve kissed before.

Your body tenses up before finally melting into his own, falling victim to his magical kiss. It sweeps you up in a warm embrace, just as his arm does when he hooks it around your waist to pull your naked body flush against his.

You moan into the kiss, your hands stuck gripping his chest…his warm, hard-like-granite chest. Goddammit all! Even in such a nightmarish situation, you can’t deny how attractive he is.

Zoro suddenly pulls away and swoops down to suck on your supple nipples. He does so in a way that makes you believe that it’s been a long time since he’s touched a woman. His hands roam your back and ass, squeezing, molding, and gripping your flesh. You moan as his tongue slurps on both of your nipples, sensitive from the chill in the air and his hot, wet, pierced tongue.

You moan and writhe against his ministrations, your body betraying you. You can feel your pussy tingling and the knot in your stomach tightening the more he sucks, licks, and grips you. “Ah!” you cry out, flinching at the slight bite of pain as he nipples one of your nipples. His teeth are sharp, almost like knives.

Zoro chuckles, humored by this. “Do you want more, little girl?” he asks, pressing a kiss to your nipple. You don’t know whether to say yes or no.

Without waiting for an answer, the swordsman suddenly tosses you over one of his broad shoulders. You squeak, suddenly staring at the floor. “W-What are you doing?” you demand, gripping the back of his shirt.

“You’ll see,” he laughingly says, giving your bare ass a smack for good measure.

He then begins to walk through your house, somehow knowing exactly where the bedroom is. He ventures into the dark room with you in his possession as if you’re a prized sack of jewels that he just won. Carefully, he lowers you down onto the floor where your sleeping cot is.

Then he’s on top of you, swallowing you up with his big body. “Feel me,” he growls, grinding his hips down against yours. There, you feel his big, hard cock pressing into you. This somehow drills the undeniable, inevitable truth into your head: this is real. This isn’t a dream.

The swordsman begins to kiss down your naked body, his lips leaving trails of fire in their wake. When he finally makes it to your legs, he spreads them apart and gazes at the sight in front of him. You quiver in his hands, your tears drying on your cheeks.

“So wet for me,” he coos, his cool breath fanning over your pussy lips. “From the way you screamed and ran from me earlier, I would’ve thought you ain’t like me much.”

You whimper as his finger ghosts over your slit, collecting your juices onto his digit. “I-I don’t,” you softly, your hands grasping the sheets below you. “I don’t like this.” But not even you truly believe it.

Zoro quirks a brow at you, a wicked smirk on his face. “Then why is she sobbing so much for me?” he asks, referring to your perfect, puffy, wet cunt. “Seems to me like she needs something she hasn’t been getting very much of.”

He smiles at you, his pearly whites glinting in the moonlight that shines through your bedroom window. “Allow me to do that for you.”

Then you finally see it: fangs. Four of them, two on each row of teeth where his canines should be. You don’t have to scream or cry or try to escape. Not when he’s ducking between your legs to eat you out like he hasn’t eaten in days. “Oh!” you moan, your head leaning back against the pillow. You’ve never felt immense pleasure like this before.

Zoro eats you out like he’s starving, moaning into your pussy as he sloppily slurps and gulps away at your juices. His fangs don’t even get in the way of scraping you as he licks and sucks at your clit, his soft lips cushioning the sensitive bud. You feel the urge to grind your hips against his talented mouth, you feel a hand press against your stomach.

“Don’t you dare fuckin’ move,” he grows into your cunt. “If you, I won’t make you cum at all.” He keeps pressing down as he eats you out, giving you the sensation of wanting to pee but not being able to.

“Oh, f-fuck!” you whine, tossing an arm over your eyes. “Please, please, please!”

“Please what, baby?” He asks, giving you a long, teasing lick from your clit down to your ass. “Please make you cum?” You frantically nod, needing it yet not wanting it. “Then you’d better fuckin’ look at me while I do this or you won’t like what happens,” he growls.

Defeatedly, you take your arm off of your eyes and stare into his as he slips one finger inside of you. You gasp, doing your best to not arch your back as he curls his finger up, fucking you as he sucks on your clit.

“Cum for me,” he demands. “I want you to cum.”

You can feel it building, about to burst. Suddenly, as you’re staring into the swordsman’s eyes, they begin to glow, the vibrant red almost pulsing. You blink once and feel your whole body instantly melt. It feels as if your body and mind are not your own anymore. They are someone else’s.

“Cum,” he says again, a growl in his tone. “Cum.”

You can hear his voice and the word echoing in your mind as he keeps his gaze locked on you, his tongue slashing away in time with his finger-fucking.

“Oh, fuck!” you moan, finally coming apart and cumming all over his fat tongue. Your moans and wails of pleasure are music to his ears, urging him to keep slurping and licking on. “Yes, baby,” he groans. “Keep cumming. Give me everything.”

You have no choice. He continues to press down on your pelvis, making the orgasm way more intense. It leaves you squirming and gasping, your vision blurred with unshed tears. The pleasure is almost painful. It sends you soaring up, up, and up, and then crashing back down to Earth again.

Zoro slowly pulls away from you, sliding his finger out of your hole. You moan at the loss, watching as he sucks your cum off of his finger. A fire suddenly appears in his eyes and he silently stands before you in the moonlight. You have no choice but to watch as he disrobes, first sliding his black bandana off to reveal his short-cropped, emerald hair.

Then off his shirt goes. Then his belt holding his swords. Then his pants, underwear, boots, and socks. Soon, he is completely naked, staring down at you with his glowing eyes. Your eyes drink in his pink, pierced nipples; his tan skin stretching across big biceps, forearms, and thighs; his washboard abs and happy trail leading down to his very hard, very big, very thick, throbbing cock.

“Get on your knees,” he demands. “I need my cock wet. You can’t be the only one receiving.” Despite you telling yourself no, you still sit up and position yourself on your knees in front of him. You look up at him and his beautiful, dripping cock in obedience, almost as if you’re his slave now.

You may as well be. You have no other thoughts except for him and him alone. Your body does as he demands, pulled on strings like a puppet. What has he done to you? He wraps a hand around his cock and slowly pumps his fist up and down on his shaft. “Show me that you believe in me,” he murmurs.

Somehow, you’re already salivating for his cock. Still on your knees, you rise up and take his cock into your smaller hand. He gives you time to get to know him, pushing his hips forward to sink his cock further into the hole you form with your hand. “That’s a good girl,” he purrs. “Get to know me. You’ll be gettin’ to know me a lot more soon.”

You watch, hypnotized, as your hand slides around his shaft. He is so thick that you can barely fit your fingers around the base. And his balls! They’re so big and heavy-looking, probably loaded with cum. His soft groans of encouragement egg you on to stroke him more, getting him harder and harder. Your pussy tingles at the sounds he makes and the feeling of his cock in your hand, so hard and heavy.

Finally, Zoro stops you, taking your hand off of him. “Enough,” he growls. “Take me into your mouth.” He takes his cock and rubs the head against your lips, applying his own personal lipgloss to them. He pushes deeper, prying your mouth open. “Taste me.”

You let out a muffled grunt of surprise as his cock slides into your mouth and settles onto your tongue, drawing a low moan out of him. He pushes deeper, giving you his full length. Your throat flexes and gags around his thick length, your tongue sliding down the pulsing vein trailing from his tip to his heavy balls.

“Yeah?” He chuckles. “You love the taste of me, don’t you?” You gurgle in response, trying to get used to the appendage in your throat. You have to hollow your cheeks and open your throat as if to yawn to accommodate him and his size. Especially when he begins to thrust. You feel his pubic hairs brush against your nose as he does, his pelvis rubbing against your top lip. “Take me deeper, baby. Just like a good whore should.”

He is warm and pulses in your mouth like a live thing, his hips pistoning front and back without abandon like your mouth is a fleshlight. A toy for his pleasure only. Saliva begins to drip from your mouth down your chin, making it easier for him to push a little deeper until that button at the back of your throat gets triggered, urging you to vomit.

“Mmm-ph!” you moan around his cock, pushing him back an inch by his thighs.

You manage to get him somewhat farther away from the back of your throat, allowing you a millisecond of relief. But Zoro grips the back of your hair, keeping you firmly latched onto his cock. “Uh-uh, don’t push me away,” he growls. “Guess I was too lenient with you.”

He pauses for a moment to tilt your chin up, his glowing eyes meeting yours. Once again, your brain feels foggy and you can't concentrate on anything. “Look into my eyes,” he demands, his voice soft and seductive. “Relax for me. Relax for my cock.”

And just like that, your body is relaxed and so is your throat. You go almost slack, all of your muscles loosening as you fall deeper and deeper under his spell. His cock slides perfectly down your throat, loosening it up the more he thrusts along your tongue and strokes the inside of your cheeks.

“Thaaat’s it,” Zoro praises, staring down at you through hooded eyes. “That’s a good. Fuckin’. Girl.”

Each word is punctuated by a rough thrust that nearly has you coughing. He tilts your face up with his fingers on your chin, making you look at him as you throat his dick. “Doesn’t it feel so good to give in? To let yourself submit to me?”

‘Yes,’ you think, but the thought is not yours…or is it? You don’t know anymore. You can’t think of anything but the salty taste of his pre on your tongue and how hard he is in your mouth.

Suddenly, your throat becomes scratchy and an unbearable pain explodes in your lungs. Zoro snorts, humored by your struggle. “You need to breathe, darlin’?” he chuckles. “Fine, but only because you’re doing so well.”

Finally, he pulls out of your wet, sloppy mouth, groaning as he does. You drink in the air and cough, finally able to breathe. Your mouth is beyond wet, coated in cum and saliva, while your eyes are wet with tears.

“Fuck, you look too cute,” he groans as if pained by your appearance. He looms over you, the moonlight cutting across his toned, muscular form. “I can’t wait any longer. Get on your back.”

You don’t protest. You don’t put up a fight. You just do as he wants, getting on your back and spreading your legs like a good girl. A good slut. He hovers over you, his big frame completely covering yours and blocking out the moon. All you see and smell and taste and know is him.

The moon glints in his crimson eyes as he taps his cock against your clit, making you twitch and moan. He presses his mouth against yours, your tongues dancing together.

“Let me in,” he murmurs against your lips. “Let me inside of you, baby.” He hikes your legs over his shoulders and wraps a hand around himself, lining himself up with your entrance.

A small breath of clarity fills you and for a moment, you come back to reality. “W-Wait!” you gasp, but your words cease to exist when he slides inside of you. Your eyes widen and your mouth falls agape as his length stretches you open, filling your walls inch by inch.

“Finally,” he groans, shuddering as he sinks into you. “Finally.”

The sounds you make are strangled and hoarse from the throat-fucking as he fills you up, taking you inch by inch, vertebrae by vertebrae. You’ve never been this full in your life. You grip his arms for dear life, feeling as if you’ll break if you don’t. Zoro hums in approval, gripping your hips as he begins to rock his hips against yours, sliding in and out, in and out.

“Oh, oh, oh!” you moan from underneath him, singing your own chorus. You can’t explain the feelings and emotions swimming inside of you right now. You feel so dirty and wrong for finding pleasure in being taken by the monster above you, but you know that if you don’t, he could damn well kill you.

“Look at me,” he orders. Your eyes have closed, forced shut by the pleasure. “Don’t look away. Let me see that face as I fuck you.” He begins to piston his hips, stroking that spot inside of you that makes you see stars. “So beautiful,” he grunts. “Why the fuck did you run from me?”

He fucks you harder, faster, drilling into your sex like it belongs to him. His handsome face grows red with the force of his fucking, sweat glinting off of his forehead. You claw at his back, the pleasure exploding inside of you, starting in your core.

“O-Oh, fuck, please!” you cry out. “N-Need you!” Tears once again prick at your eyes, threatening to fall down your cheeks. You’ve never cried during sex before.

Zoro smiles, his fangs glinting at you. You don’t even feel fear anymore. “I need you too,” he chuckles, pressing a kiss to your ankle near his ear. “I need all of you and you need all of me. It’s okay to admit it.”

You do. You need every inch of him despite the fact that all of him is inside of you, stroking your insides, bullying your pussy into taking him. Your walls squeeze and grip him, pulling him deeper inside of you and squelching with every thrust. Zoro laughs—laughs—as you moan and sob below him, your pretty body on display. “That’s a good girl. My good girl.”

He drops your legs from his shoulders, hoists you against him, and proceeds to rut into you without abandon. You gasp with each forceful, rough thrust. It takes your breath away and makes intense pleasure crackle inside of you like fire. It almost hurts. “W-Wait, Zoro!” you gasp, gripping him for dear life. “You’re going too fast! I-I can’t—“

“You can,” he insists, growling into your ear. “Sorry, sweetness, but I have to fuck you faster. I need to fucking cum and I can tell you do too.”

You do. You can’t help it. The more his cock stimulates your G-spot and the more his pelvis brushes against your clit, the more that knot in your core begins to tighten, threatening to snap. You feel like a balloon that is expanding with too much air and is about to pop.

Zoro fucks you hard and rough, using your body as his own personal toy. He takes you along for the ride until you both can’t take much more. You whine in his ear, “Oh, God, please! Please make me cum!”

Zoro’s big hand wraps around your hair and pulls you back to face him. “Not yet, you little vixen,” he growls, his red eyes drilling into yours. “Give me what I want first.” He leans in, nose nearly touching yours. “Tell me you’re mine. Tell me you believe in me. Acknowledge me.”

You don’t know what to say or how to form words. You can’t even breathe. His rough thrusts are enough to make you come apart at the seams. “I…I…” The swordsman wraps a hand around your throat, squeezing. “Say it!” he roars. “Tell me!”

Finally, your mind has a break just as it breaks. “I-I’m yours!” you sob. “I believe in you! I promise, I do! I’m all yours!” You know exactly what this means and so does Zoro because he grins, looking overjoyed at this breakthrough.

This isn’t just sex talk. You’re talking to an urban legend after all. And not just that…but a vampire. “Good girl,” he praises. “Now cum for me. Cum on my cock, baby.”

His cock drives into you faster and harder, triggering that spot over and over again, practically abusing it until you have no choice but to cum. Your body is forced to. “Cumming!” you warn, digging your nails into Zoro’s muscular back. “I-I-I’m cumming!”

The orgasmic, euphoric feeling washes over you, almost as if God has bestowed the feeling of being in heaven onto you. You fall into a sea of bliss, moaning out your release as you gush all over Zoro’s cock.

“Me too,” he grunts, still pistoning away at your sloppy, gushing cunt. “Gonna fill you up. Give you all of my kids.”

Kids?

You don’t have it in you to stop him. You just let him dig his fingers into your ass, hard enough to leave bruises, as he frantically chases his orgasm in your pussy. Finally, with a loud grunt of release, he pumps his cum deep inside of you, filling you with warmth. You gasp at the feeling, all of your senses coming to life. It somehow triggers another agonizing orgasm that has you spasming and whining in pleasure.

As you do, Zoro wrenches your hair back to expose your warm, soft, pulsing neck. “It’s time,” he growls. “Give me your neck, little human.” His eyes flash an inhuman red, his pupils turning to slits.

Before you even realize what’s happening, his teeth are sinking into the tender flesh of your skin. You open your mouth to let out a scream, but all that escapes you is a strangled, weak moan as his fangs pierce your skin. It’s a confusing mixture of a stinging pain and pleasure, creating a cocktail of strange emotions. Your eyes squeeze shut, the darkness behind them flashing with colors and shapes.

Zoro continues to suck your blood, gulping down each ounce of the red substance of your life force. You can feel your energy draining from you with each gulp, making you feel fatigued and dizzy.

Your vision blurs and your hands twitch, unable to push him away. He continues to feed, moaning in desperation at the taste of you. You can feel your own blood drip down your neck to your breast in two steady, red streams.

Finally, the swordsman pulls away. His lips and teeth are stained red. Red from you. You want to scream. You want to fight. You want to get away from this monster…but you’re just too goddamn tired.

Zoro doesn’t say anything for a while. He just takes you and lies you down on your cot on your side. You don’t fight it. Your body is too heavy and your mind is too foggy to do anything but comply. Your thighs are soaked with his cum, staining every part of your cunt.

“Now you’re mine forever,” he whispers. “You’ve given yourself to me. Now we’re bonded for eternity.”

You let out a weak moan in response, one single tear falling from your eye. Zoro lays his big body next to you, his hand stroking down your body. “Sleep now, my little human,” he coos. “And remember me. Always remember me.”

He presses a soft kiss to your forehead and it is all you remember as sleep takes you.

When you awaken, it is morning. The bright autumn sun pours through your window. Zoro is gone. Your cot is cool and empty as if he wasn’t there the night before.

But you know better. You know that the other night is as real as the sun in the sky, and you don’t need to see the two bloody, puncture holes in your neck to believe it.

Now? You come home before sunset.

THE END.

#zoro aka my husband #zoro x black reader #black fanfic writer #smutty smut #one piece smut #happy halloweeeeeeen #black coded reader #zoro x female reader #daddy zoro #my works #my one shots

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ar3s-r4t-qu33n · 4 months ago

Text

Johnny's Bluffing

CW for discussion of potential sexual assault, toxic/unhealthy relationships, stalking, obsession, and, of course, murder and cannibalism. Nothing like, too crazy I think? But especially this one section on sexual assault, it's brief but separated out so it's quite easy to skip if that makes folks uncomfortable.

Hi I am currently in a really bad insomnia cycle and as such haven't slept so I'm sure I'm gonna have missed something that immediately prove me wrong, but here we go:

I don't think that certain members of the Family know that Maria is alive, and especially Nancy. This theory sort of delves into a lot of different stuff, I wrote and rewrote this a fair bit and idk, this is what I ended up with. It's a lot of my personal interpretation of both the written text and the way lines are delivered, as well as my own analyses on characters and how I personally think the timeline of events went (Danny and Virginia dying before the gang even show up in Newt, Maria being the 'Definitive Final Girl' and surviving to the very end, but never getting to escape the Slaughters/Johnny. That isn't to say that she dies, but Sally is the first and only person to escape until Stretch if she is canon to this timeline now that Choptop is on his way) so idk, I hope you like what I've been thinking about I guess?

Nancy and Drayton both have several voice lines that refer to Maria being in the past tense. So does Johnny, but my theory here is that he is playing into this line of thought so they don’t realise that he is still keeping her.

I will source my way of hearing all of the voice lines at the end.

Starting with Nancy, she has several;

‘It didn’t have to be this way, you know? You just had to come looking for that floosy of yours, didn’t you?’

‘Your little friend had it coming. Looking at my Johnny that way- he’s a sweet boy!’

‘You ever hear the saying murder starts in the heart? … I think my Johnny liked that girl…’

The first two are obviously extremely defensive over Johnny and are meant to taunt the other Victims over Maria’s ‘death’. The last one, however, feels almost like a realisation. This line has confused me for a long time, because it sounds like two different once spliced together, but they are, in fact, connected. This is the only time that Nancy ever speaks about Maria in any other way than pure disgust and defensiveness. Another interesting thing about Nancy is that she does not hate her husbands. She murdered all three of them, none of them were able to give her a baby of her own, and yet she defends them from Sissy, she keeps them all in her basement man cave, and even when talking to Hands, she’s apologetic about Harold to him. She still holds a fondness for them, it seems, and I feel like maybe this is what makes her finally realise that Johnny actually, truly loves Maria. For Nancy, she loves people to death, and that type of love extends to Johnny, too. Sure, he’s still alive, and could easily kill her now, but she permanently scarred his face when he tried to leave her. I don’t believe that Nancy isn’t above murdering Johnny to keep him with her, and I think this admittance leads to her realising that Johnny actually did love Maria. Of course, she can’t say ‘love’, that’s a bit too far, but at the very least, she will acknowledge that he likes her, and these days, Johnny doesn’t seem to like anyone, not even her. It’s also interesting to note that she says this after losing sight of a victim she was chasing. She says herself that she hasn’t hunted like this in a while, it seems as if physically chasing people down to kill them is making her reminisce on her feelings about murder and love in a way.

But all of that to say, she believes Maria is dead. Beyond a shadow of a doubt, she’s dead now, and maybe she plans to talk to Johnny about it later, maybe not apologise, but try and make it easier on him now that she’s realised just how much she meant to him.

Then we’ve got Cookie.

‘Look, I’m sorry about your friend… but… I’m afraid you done landed square dab in the shithouse!’

‘We didn’t have much choice! Couldn’t let Johnny spring no lovechild around here. It ain’t personal! Now get back here!’

There is obviously a lot less here, the former being Cook or Drayton’s more humble, car salesman type approach to everything, apologising sincerely that their friend had to die… but now so do they, so how sorry can he be, really?

The second is far more interesting. I’m still sort of working out the kinks with what I think on all this, but it implies not only that the whole family knew about Johnny’s feelings for Maria, but that there was a worry about something more than just his feelings. A genuine attachment, the possibility for a child.

Now, one thing I wanna throw in real quick is that a lot of people think Johnny assaulted Maria once he kidnapped her. And I personally don’t think that that is true. And it’s more than just ‘noooo not my pookie he would never!’, I feel as though Johnny’s feelings for Maria are beyond sexual, or beyond purely sexual. I’m not gonna get super into it because I wanna make a whole post about just their relationship, but in short, Johnny knows he’s hot shit. He knows women love him and men do too, and he uses that all the time to lure people to their deaths. Maybe he fucks them first, then kills them, who knows. But this is a man who is used to being sexualised and uses it to his advantage, like a reverse femme fatale, almost. A lot of his lines are sexually charged and he speaks seductively low at times, even flirting on the odd occasion. However, Maria is in love with Danny and is a sweet girl in the seventies. There is no way she’s heading off to knock boots with the pretty boy at the bar no matter how charming, persistent, helpful… always somehow exactly where she needs him to be… is. She’s kind, she’s sweet, she brings out the best in people, we know this about her. And when there’s no sex, when it’s not about fucking them and killing them… Johnny has no choice but to fall completely head over heels for her. It’s no surprise that the day she’s heading out of town, maybe to go back to see her boyfriend, that is when her car breaks down. Johnny’s oil stained gloves, the fact that he’s designed to look like he helps at a gas station, his friendship with Uncle Hands, the fact he lives in a junk yard? This man knows mechanics. He knows cars. And he is definitely not above tampering with an already busted old car to ensure it stops before she can get away from him. It’s just his luck that she happens to break down by his family’s land. All this to say, I don’t think Johnny assaults Maria once he has her. Not only because that would be a lot, like, in general, for this game to go from goofy cannibals to sexual assault by one of the game’s most beloved characters to one of the game’s most beloved characters, but because I don’t think Johnny is the type. He’s pretty and charming enough that people want him, he doesn’t have to take it, he earns it. And he wants Maria to give it to him, for him to earn it because she wants him. He likely spends his time down there with her trying to get her to fall for him and forget about Danny. He wants her to want him. Or at least, this is my personal interpretation.

Maybe she does begin to fall or maybe Drayton’s complete lack of any and all sexual knowledge just makes him think they’re already going to pound town, but he was worried about a baby. That’s something I wanna explore in the future, why he’s so worried about Johnny and Maria having a baby, but moving on; again, Drayton is seemingly fully convinced that Maria is dead.

For Johnny I wanna take his lines one at a time, but it is important to note that I think some of these lines are referring to someone else and not Maria, but also some of these are in present tense, he either slips up or sometimes on purpose mentions things that could hint to her being alive to the Victims.

‘You wanna know how your friend died!? … I can show you!’

‘Your little friend put up a better fight than this… come on! Make it interesting, will you!?”

Pure just bluffing to get them angry and scared. It could also be referring to Danny but more on that a different time.

‘That’s what I get for taking it easy on them. Time for them to join that little friend of theirs…’

‘You’re gonna look real nice next to that friend of yours…’

Again, if my belief that Danny not only went to Nancy’s a lot earlier than the others is true and that he has been dead for a good few days before the gang shows up, then this is absolutely about him, not Maria.

‘You kinda remind me of your little friend’

To Ana about Maria, obviously, and comes across as quite flirtatious. He’s figured out that not only does Maria have a sister (if she never told him), but that Ana has no intentions of leaving there without her. I interpret this as Johnny taunting her, making her his new priority to get rid of. I said he loved Maria, I never said he loved her in a healthy way, alight? This is The Texas Chain Saw Massacre, not the Notebook (never seen that movie)

‘You should have never came here looking for that girl!’

I don’t need to explain. Pure possessive Johnny in his raw form.

And finally, the infamous;

‘You know… I was actually kinda fond of that girl, I-I didn’t really wanna hurt her… but… family first, you know?’

Johnny is an agitator. Almost all of his lines are trying to fuck with the victims, playing with his food. Egging them on to hit him, teasing them about being too slow, the way he calls after them as he hunts them down, he wants to see them upset and charged, he wants a good fight, he wants to feel something. The main part of this line is just that, I think; he wants them to believe that even though he cared about Maria, he fucking killed her. He wants them to be angry, to fight him, to hurt him. The end is guilty. Incredibly guilty sounding, and I don’t think that’s out of a guilt for killing her, since… well, Maria is alive and kicking. But more a guilt about his family in general. ‘Family first, you know?’ he’s almost saying it so himself, as if that’s what he should think, what he should be doing. But he is actively betraying them and knows that once everything blows over, he’s going to keep on betraying them for every day he keeps Maria alive. And he also knows that even if he feels all of this guilt, he will do it anyway because he loves her, and he can’t let his family have her. She is the only person who is truly his, who represents what life could have given him. I have another analysis I made on TikTok that I’ll repost here soon, but it essentially goes like this; Johnny and Danny really aren’t too different. Scrappy orphans who are good with mechanics. Except Danny got to go to college, travel freely, meet the girl of his dreams, and Johnny is forced to be someone he doesn’t want to be. He isn’t not a killer, but he also could have not been a killer. Maria is everything he has not been allowed to have; naivety, kindness, softness. And now that he has her, and once everyone else is out of the way, he has no intentions of letting that go.

So he is pretending that she is dead. And for now, it is working. I have a feeling in the canon story of the game, the victims stumble upon her somewhere once they’ve already caused enough trouble for the family, and then all bets are off. Once they find out she’s still alive, it’s a new game for Johnny, a choice; does he kill her, make his mother proud and live the only life he knows because even if he leaves, he knows he can’t be any better? Or does he take her away and try, try to be a different man in the softness of her love?

Rush Week could be the result of either of those. Either he kills her, and becomes an even worse, even colder killer, now able to handle a situation like in the game completely on his own, or he takes her away to start a new life and just couldn’t stop the urges; the Bad Man needs to feed. He stays late after work or pretends he has a night shift and gets his fill on blood and chaos before stumbling home, washing it all off, and returning to Maria’s (definitely traumatised at this point from seeing her friends and sister murdered (don’t worry about Danny I’ve got thoughts on him shhh) in front of her and ‘rescued’ by Johnny) arms.

That was a lot... Please tell me what y'all think on this, again, a lot of my personal interpretation on a lot of things, but isn't that what art is for?

Sources for the voice lines:

Texas Chain Saw Massacre Game - Johnny All Voice Lines (youtube.com)

Texas Chain Saw Massacre Game - Black Nancy All Voice Lines - YouTube

Texas Chain Saw Massacre Game - Johnny All Voice Lines (youtube.com)

Promised I'd tag @bloodfeeder when I finished this so here ya go!! :)

#johnny slaughter #maria flores #black nancy #drayton slaughter #tcm game #tcm #rush week tcm #tcm rush week #the texas chain saw massacre game

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painsandconfusion · 7 months ago

Text

Yours to Lose

Whumping the Whumpers - Part Forty

(tw: death mention, attempted murder, plotting murder, manhandling, victim blaming) [Previous | Masterpost | Next]

Ethan stumbled backward slightly at the force of Nate’s shove. The lingering bruise ached against his ribs, but did nothing in comparison to the ringing in his head.

He immediately batted Nate’s hands away. “Get off of me!”

“What the FUCK were you thinking!?” Nate’s teeth were clenched as he stepped forward to push Ethan again - forcing him back into the wall this time. “Going down there alone in the middle of the fucking night- You could be dead if I weren’t awake! If I hadn’t happened to be there! If I wasn’t paying attention!”

Ethan’s chest clenched up, burning and twisting.

Stuck.

He felt stuck.

The pain that wrapped around him was colder than most cuffs he’d been in, and the little man in front of him seemed so much larger when his back was bruising against the drywall.

Ethan scoffed, shoving forward and knocking Nate out of the way. “I’d have figured it out. I always do.”

“No, you don’t- You get caught and fucked up again and again and again. He would have killed you - what part of that isn’t sticking?? Or is it just the concussion making you stupid?”

Ethan’s jaw set, eyes dead ahead as he strode toward the kitchen to wash the blood off of his neck. “Why do you even care?”

He hoped Nate wouldn’t follow him. Of course, he did anyway.

“Why do I care!? Because you’re mine, that’s why!”

Ethan rounded on him, glaring enough it flared the throbbing in his skull. “You do not own me.” Each word precise. Spat over Nate in the dark kitchen.

Nate’s mouth immediately snapped open to retort, but he must have thought better of it. It closed again. He simply glared back for a long moment before trying again. “I don’t want you dead. I definitely don’t want him to kill you.”

Ethan raised a brow. “You want to be the one to do it, huh?”

Nate’s mouth pressed into a line. “..yes. I do.”

Ethan stepped closer, index finger pressed against Nate’s sternum. “And what if you’re not alive long enough to pull that off?”

Nate snorted - almost in amusement, but still too irritated to harbor his trademark smile. He batted Ethan’s hand away. “I know your angle. You know mine. If you had a problem with how I’m doing this, you’d have left.”

“No, I wouldn’t. I do have a problem with it, and I still won’t.”

Nate’s glare lasted almost long enough for the familiar fear to twist back through him. Luckily, anger kept it at bay long enough. “How many are left.”

“Some.”

Nate reached forward, shoving at Ethan’s chest again. “How many??” A harsh, whisper-shout that died on the wallpaper.

Ethan didn’t budge. Not that time. Nate could fall backwards if he wanted to push Ethan so damn bad. “I’m not telling you.”

“You don’t get to kill me the fucking second that I deliver the last person to you on a silver platter, you bastard-”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do, actually. Because you’re not gonna stop. You want them dead as much as I do.” Ethan found his hand drifting out, flicking a fallen lock of bang away from Nate’s brow.

Nate flinched.

He actually flinched.

A hand snapped Ethan’s away again.

“You don’t know what I want.”

“You want them to suffer.”

“Of course I w-” Nate’s teeth ground, eyes clicking to the side to think. “..do you like this?”

Ethan’s head turned slightly, eyeing Nate. “Like what?”

“Do you like getting fucked up?”

Now it was Ethan’s turn to shove Nate - hard enough the man stumbled backwards into the foyer again. “The fuck is wrong with you-??”

Nate sputtered a scoff, straightening his shirt again. “What the hell am I supposed to think, E?? You find who knows how many fuckers out there to mess you up, and even when you’re safe from two goddamn seconds, you go running off to the basement alone in the middle of the night and almost die.”

“I’m fine-!”

“YOU’RE NOT FINE.”

Air warbled and shifted, holding the words between them in silence for several echoing clicks of the farmhouse clock on the wall.

“I just..” Nate rubbed at his eye, anger melting into frustration. “I didn’t know you were-... I thought you were dead. When I came in the workshop, you were bleeding and still and-...and I thought you ..I thought you were dead, E. I thought I’d lost you.”

Ethan’s ears were ringing, a hissing, electronic sting filling the muffled silence that settled in the wake of the words.

Ethan stepped to the side, moving around Nate and toward the stairs. “I’m not yours to lose,” he muttered, rounding the banister. He needed a shower anyway.

He thought Nate might respond. Fight back or pull him down again.

Nothing happened. No words returned or refuted. Ethan just heard the front door open and close behind him as he moved up into the darkness with burning eyes and a throbbing skull.

[Previous | Masterpost | Next]

(tags: @prisonerwhump @whumpawink @wormwriting @distinctlywhumpthing @whump-cafe @jo-doe-seeking-inspo @azayta @batfacedliar-yetagain @there-will-always-be-blood @siren-of-agony @whumpworld @deltaxxk @whumpasaurus101 @pickywhumpreader @whumpberry-cookie @morning-star-whump @nailevislev @throwawaywhumper @the-mourning-star @d-cs @pigeonwhumps @suspicious-whumping-egg @snakebites-and-ink @whumpedydump @orphans-parent @whumplr-reader @rainbowsandwhumperflies @starfields08000 @sunnyesunny @crystallizedme @lumpofsand @taterswhump)

As always, lmk if you want to be added to the tag list!

#have a little ~angst~#death mention #death threat #murder mention #plotting murder #whumping the whumpers #nate and ethan #angst

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tojixz · 2 years ago

Text

Masterlist

Pairing: Jake Sully x Fem!Reader

Notes: First of all I want to thank you for all the affection! Thank you so much for the likes and reblogs, I'm so happy!!! 😭💞💞 And also, I wasn't so happy with this part, I feel like it got kinda shitty, so I'm sorry if it's bad 🥲

Summary: Tuk finally comes into the family, lots of love and affection. I am horrible with summaries????

Warnings: TW!! Labor pain, a lot of anguish on mommy's part, Sully family worried.

Word Count: 3k

Skxawng (n) - Idiot

Sa'nok (n) - Mom Tìyawn (n) - Love

Sempul (n) - Father Yawntu (n) - Loved

Part one | Part two

The sun was high in the sky by now. You were sitting leaning against a tree near the camp, weaving some baskets. After all, it was one of the only activities you were capable of doing right now.

Not wanting to play the victim, which you certainly are not, you were unable to do activities that required much body movement or strength. In the last few weeks you were experiencing many contractions and extreme pain. Your feet were swollen and it felt like you were carrying a Thanator on your back. Honestly, it couldn't get any worse.

Therefore, your only choice was to do simple tasks that were even assigned to children. You felt useless, it really was not a pleasant state.

But what relieved your stress was knowing that your baby will soon arrive. Soon she will be in your arms, babbling something or crying for your attention. You were anxious. Both to get rid of that awful end-of-pregnancy feeling and to finally feel the warmth of your child.

You were quiet, humming songs as you enjoyed the fresh air of your home and the sounds of nature. Definitely a planet blessed by your divinity.

A few seconds later you finished making the last basket of the day. In total there were three, which you considered to be enough so far. Deciding to take your handiwork to the people in the clan who would use it, you got up from the ground to start your way back to the camp. You certainly had a hard time getting up, heavens, your back was killing you, but nothing that a little effort wasn't enough.

That is until you felt a sharp pain in your abdomen and something warm trickle down your thighs.

No. This couldn't be what you thought it was.

A wave of panic began to wash over you as you let out agonized groans from the extreme pain you were feeling.

Why now? Why just now?? Couldn't that have waited a few minutes to happen?!

You had to act fast. You had to go to Mo'at. You had to tell them your baby was coming. But what guarantee was there that you would make it there?

Leaning against the trunk of the tree, you put your hand on your belly and start trying to breathe to calm your heartbeat, but your breath is coming in between cuts. You are losing strength in your legs and the pain is unbearable.

"Hold on baby. Just wait a little longer. We're coming…" Muttering to yourself both as a way to keep calm, and also to keep your focus on the hike, you start walking toward the camp. If you found anyone along the way, that would be good enough. They might be able to help. "Ah Great Mother… I won't make it."

Tears welled up in your eyes. You didn't want to do this alone. You couldn't. You were too afraid of what might happen.

But you also had no strength left in your body. Your legs were shaking, still trying to hold on, and your abdomen was throbbing. It was unbearable. Waves of frustration covered you as your only option was to sit back down on the floor and pray to Eywa that someone would come to help you.

You felt more and more contractions and at this point you could only scream and accept the fact that you would have to deliver the baby yourself.

What an idea of yours to distance yourself from the camp. You could be at home, in your own comfort. But you wanted and needed fresh air.

Jake had become ten times more protective of you, preventing you from going out much, or if you did, was in the company of someone. You understand his concern; you could go into labor at any moment. But it doesn't change that you still missed doing things on your own. Well, that desire of yours led to this situation at the moment.

To make matters worse, you wouldn't have the chance to find your children around, nor your husband. Jake, Neteyam and Lo'ak were out doing their daily training, and Kiri was also studying and learning with her grandmother. They are still children, but it is the best thing to learn at a young age.

With your back resting on the trunk of the tree, you begin to take deep breaths to calm your hiccups and prepare yourself for the next steps. There was no more time, you would have to do it yourself.

That is until you hear footsteps behind you.

It couldn't be a predator. Although you were not exactly in the camp, you were in a nearby location. Wild animals don't go near there because they were aware that there were too many people to deal with. So it is a safe area. But it could also only mean one thing…

It is someone walking there!

And it was just a soul she needed to call for help.

"Grandma told me to get purple seeds, but I've been looking for so long and I can't find anything! Come on…" Kiri was frustrated that she couldn't find the ingredient that her grandmother had charged her to get. But she kept walking.

Until she heard moans of pain and quiet sniffling behind a tree. This startled her a little, but then she thought 'Is anyone hurt?'

Walking cautiously to the spot to check, she came across her mother. She was on the floor looking like she was in pain, sweat covering her entire body as tears streamed from her eyes. It felt like her heart stopped for a second at the sight.

"Sa'nok? What's wrong?!", Kiri crouched down next to her mother, as she started to look around her for apparent injuries. Her eyes fell on her wet legs and her hand resting on her stomach.

"Mom… that's not-"

"Kiri! Oh heavens, thank you. Kiri, my child, go get your grandmother. I need you to get her over here as fast as you can, please!" Her voice was hoarse from crying over the pain, along with the emotion that consumed her that Eywa had listened to her prayers and directed Kiri to you.

"But mother, I can't leave you, not like this-"

"Kiri, it will be all right. I need you to get your grandmother. Now. Hurry!"

Kiri didn't even think straight before her little legs were running towards her grandmother's tent. Even if she gets there quickly, her grandmother won't be able to speed up her steps that much. Seeing her mother in that state terrified her. How long were you there suffering alone? With no one to take away her fear.

Kiri had never run so hard in her life, her lungs were burning for air and her mouth was dry. On the way to the tents, Kiri came across ikrans landing nearby. It was her father and her brothers.

"Hi babygirl, why are you in such a hurry-", Jake was cut off by the pleading voice of Kiri who was gasping for air.

"Sempul! Go to mommy, she needs your help. She's near the tree she usually stands to weave things. Now I need to go to grandma, please take care of mommy!", Kiri didn't even give her father a chance to answer or ask any questions before running back to her grandma. Jake was alarmed by his daughter's tone and her haste. Putting the pieces together, Jake's mind could only think of one thing.

His baby is coming.

Before he could even draw that conclusion, he found himself running frantically to the tree his daughter had said, being followed by his other children. "No, you go back home. Tell Kiri to stay too", Jake shouted over his shoulder, still seeing his children following him.

"We can't stay home, mommy needs help!", Lo'ak tried to argue but only received a warning look from Jake.

"Stay. I'm ordering", Jake spoke in a firmer voice, noticing how his children stopped in their running and just looked at his back. Jake wasn't sure if you would want your children watching your sister deliver her baby and they could only make the situation worse by asking questions. Therefore, he had no choice.

Concentrating on the road ahead, Jake finally arrives at the place informed and is confronted with their pleading and agonized cries. It breaks his heart. If Kiri hadn't found you, what would have happened? Would you have had to go through this alone? He imagines how terrified you must have been.

"Hey, hey, are you all right? I'm here", Jake took your hand and squeezed it gently to convey his support. You didn't have to suffer without anyone anymore.

"I look fine to you-", your speech was cut off by the scream you let out from the sudden contraction you felt. You had forgotten what a hellish pain childbirth was. Even though you had already done it twice, you will definitely never get used to the feeling. "Ah Great Mother… give me strength." More tears rolled down your face as you continued to scream and squeeze Jake's hand.

Jake was never going to get used to this phenomenon either. It was terrifying to say the least to watch the birthing process. He hated to see you suffer, hated that only you had to go through this pain. But he was thrilled at the idea that his baby was finally coming. Jake's heart was starting to soften.

A few minutes had passed with Jake trying to comfort you, his wife, until Mo'at arrived on the scene. When she arrived, she didn't even exchange words properly before going to between your legs and analyzing the situation.

"You are already very dilated. I apologize for not being here sooner, my child. But now I need you to spread your legs wider and push."

You didn't even think long before you pushed it out. You couldn't wait any longer, everything hurt. Your body felt like it was going to break in half. Jake knew you had such strength in your hand at the birth of your first child, but man, he really was always scared. It's amazing that his hand didn't break.

Your throat hurt from screaming so much, and your lower half was numb. Mo'at said that she was already starting to see the child, so she encouraged you to continue.

But how? Frankly, you were running out of strength. This is definitely the most difficult labor of the previous two. You wanted to scream at Eywa and ask her to get it over with, but you could only let out shaky sighs as you continued your labor.

This baby will be a blessing, you will love it as much as the others, you couldn't wait to hold it in your arms. But it's Jake's fault that you're lying there on the floor in pain.

After a lot of sacrifice, a lot of effort, a lot of tears and pain. You were finally able to hear your son's cry. Or rather, daughter.

It was a girl, a beautiful little girl.

You laid your head down on the support Mo'at had placed for you, while you stabilized your breathing. You were exhausted, feeling like you might pass out at any moment. Your body was disgusting and sticky, covered in sweat and blood. It was a little frustrating. But what kept you from exhaustion was the beautiful cry of your daughter. It was one of the most beautiful sounds you had ever heard.

Mo'at handed the baby into Jake's trembling hands as she thanked Eywa for the blessing. There were tears in her eyes and a wide smile on her lips.

Jake held his daughter in his arms with the greatest care in the world. Tears ran down his cheeks as he talked to the baby to calm her down. "She's so… beautiful."

You let out a weak laugh, more tears filling your eyes. You were thrilled to see Jake's infectious smile, to see your beautiful baby standing there. "Thank you, Big Mom. Thank you."

Jake brought the baby close to you and gently placed her on your chest. She was fussy, crying, but the moment she felt your mother's warmth, she calmed down. Jake helped you support the baby, since you didn't have much strength to hold her. He laughed at the way a small smile settled on the baby's mouth, resulting in an even bigger one from you.

"What's it going to be named, yawntu?", Jake asked, depositing a delicate kiss on your forehead. It was so soft that you thought you had imagined it.

Analyzing the little face of your daughter, you mentally thanked Eywa once again for blessing you with another pure little being in your life. You were very happy.

"Tuk. Tuktirey. That is the name of our new star."

"Mom, can I hold her?" Lo'ak was on his side, just looking at his little sister sleeping on the cloth that was pinned to his chest.

He was not one to admit or call others cute. But in this case it was inevitable. His new baby sister was so cute and cuddly! Her little hands clasped tightly near her mouth to bite, which looked disgusting since she had no teeth.

"If you hold it, you'll knock her over, skxawng", not even looking at her brother, Kiri said with her usual debauched tone. She couldn't take her eyes off her little sister either, her chubby body being too cute to look away.

Neteyam, like his brothers, was inside the small circle they formed around you, who were preparing dinner that day. As an older brother, he was thrilled to gain another sister. He would not speak aloud, but he was afraid that it was another boy, Lo'ak was already enough to handle. Anyway, he was also itching to hold her, but he didn't have the courage to ask like Lo'ak. But not only that, he was also afraid of knocking over or hurting his precious Tuk, so just looking at her was enough. Neteyam already loved her as much as his other brothers did.

"I know you all want to pick up and play with your sister, but she is sleeping now. When she wakes up, you guys can talk to Tuk all you want", you said looking fondly at each of your little ones, noticing the almost nil disappointment in their eyes. You let out a giggle at that.

Jake silently snuck up behind you, slipping his big arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder, depositing a lingering kiss on your neck in the process. "Yes. And anyway, only I can hold the TukTuk."

You rolled your eyes at the comment. The children frowned at their father and then said 'That's unfair!'. Jake loved to tease them.

"Sure, sure, Jake Sully", you turned your head to look into his face and deposited a gentle kiss on his lips. "Now go play! You're getting in the way of my food preparation. You too Ma'Jake."

Lo'ak didn't want to leave Tuk's side, she was stronger than he was. But Neteyam dragged him to the other corner of the hut, Kiri saying goodbye to her little sister and following right behind.

Jake and his stubborn spirit, on the other hand, remained motionless in the same place. You sighed and just continued to season the meat to put on the fire to roast later. "And the big baby, will you unglue?"

"I know you don't want me far away", he came closer to you, if it was possible, and began depositing kisses and kisses all over your neck and shoulder. That got you a few gasps and a tickle.

"Pff, how proud you are, huh."

A comfortable silence settled between you, only listening to the screams of the children, probably fighting among themselves over some toy. Neteyam seemed a little lost in the middle not knowing whether to indulge his desire to also fight, or to separate his siblings.

You were more than happy to have this family. You couldn't want anything else in your life. Eywa blessed you with everything beautiful.

Your younger self would never imagine or even think about the possibility of having a family. Your own family. And you're not sure what your former self would think. But your younger self is definitely very happy now. You can only thank Great Mother, and Jake, for coming into your life.

With each moment your heart was filled with more and more affection. So much love that it overflowed and you didn't know what to spend it on; Jake and you have surely raised the most beautiful and sweetest children in all of Pandora.

"We could have one more."

And then silence. Your movements simply stopped and you turned your face to look at him in shock.

"Jake, are you kidding? We just had another baby!"

"What? We can always do more, right?", Jake sank his face into the curve of your neck, inhaling your sweet scent as he listened to your incredulous laugh. "I can always fill you up with more."

"You are unbelievable sometimes, Jake Sully." You didn't know how to react to your husband's comment. He says that, but when your kids get ready, the first thing he says is 'No more kids!'

You removed Jake's arms from around you, turned around and put your hands on his face, then murmured, "Maybe on our next date night."

There wasn't even time for the man to react before you added to your previous sentence, "Now help me with dinner. I need to finish for you before Tuk wakes up."

Jake pulled himself together and let out a loud laugh before giving you a hug, taking care of the baby on his chest. You were startled, but couldn't stop the smile that was forming on your lips as you heard him whisper, "Thank you, for everything, my love."

"I who thank you, tìyawn."

I believe this is the last part of this story, which at the beginning I didn't even think there would be more 😭 thanks a lot for everything!!! If you want to send suggestions of what I can write or extra scenarios for this story anyway, feel free!

｡･ﾟ♡ﾟ･｡🍓｡･ﾟ♡ﾟ･｡🍒

#jake sully #jake sully x reader #avatar jake sully #avatar jake sully x reader #avatar x reader #avatar the way of water #neteyam sully #loak sully #kiri sully #tuk sully #tuktirey sully #atwow #atwow fluff #atwow x reader #avatar 2009 #avatar 2022 #avatar 1 #avatar 2 #avatar twow

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thatstormygeek · 12 days ago

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The Rot Economy is neoliberalism’s true innovation: a kind of economic cancer that with few reasons to exist beyond “more” and few justifications beyond “if we don’t let it keep growing then everybody’s pensions blow up.”

I need you to stop trying to explain away how fucking offensive using the internet and technology has become. I need you to stop making excuses for the powerful and consider the sheer scale of the societal ratfucking happening on almost every single device in the world, and consider the ramifications of the difficulty that a human being using the internet has trying to live an honest, dignified and reasonable life. ... The picture I am trying to paint is one of terror and abuse. The average person’s experience of using a computer starts with aggressive interference delivered in a shoddy, sludge-like frame, and as the wider internet opens up to said user, already battered by a horrible user experience, they’re immediately thrown into heavily-algorithmic feeds each built to con them, feeding whatever holds their attention and chucking ads in as best they can. As they browse the web, websites like NBCnews.com feature stories from companies like “WorldTrending.com” with advertisements for bizarre toys written in the style of a blog, so intentional in their deceit that the page in question has a huge disclaimer at the bottom saying it’s an ad.

Now, what’s important to accept here is that absolutely none of this is done with any real consideration of the wider effects on the customer, as long as the customer continues doing the things that the company needs them to. We, as people, have been trained to accept a kind of digital transience — an inherent knowledge that things will change at random, that the changes may suck, and that we will just have to accept them because that’s how the computer works, and these companies work hard to suppress competition as a means of making sure they can do what they want. In other words, internet users are perpetually thrown into a tornado of different corporate incentives, and the less economically stable or technologically savvy you are, the more likely you are to be at the mercy of them. Every experience is different, wants something, wants you to do something, and the less people know about why the more likely they are to — with good intentions — follow the paths laid out in front of them with little regard for what might be happening, in the same way people happily watch the same TV shows or listen to the same radio stations. Even if you’re technologically savvy, you’re still dealing with these problems — fresh installs of Windows on new laptops, avoiding certain websites because you’ve learned what the dodgy ones look like, not interacting with random people in your DMs because you know what a spam bot looks like, and so on. It’s not that you’re immune. It’s that you’re instinctually ducking and weaving around an internet and digital ecosystem that continually tries to interrupt you, batting away pop-ups and silencing notifications knowing that they want something from you — and I need you to realize that most people are not like you and are actively victimized by the tech ecosystem.

The onslaught of AI-generated content — facilitated, in no small part, by Google and Microsoft — has polluted our information ecosystems. AI-generated images and machine-generated text is everywhere, and it’s impossible to avoid, as there is no reliable way to determine the provenance of a piece of content — with one exception, namely the considered scrutiny of a human. This has irreparably damaged the internet in ways I believe few fully understand. This stuff — websites that state falsehoods because an AI hallucinated, or fake pictures of mushrooms and dogs that now dominate Google Images — is not going away. Like microplastics or PFAS chemicals, they’re with us forever, constantly chipping away at our understanding of reality. These companies unleashed generative AI on the world — or, in the case of Microsoft, facilitated its ascendency — without any consideration of what that would mean for the Internet as an ecosystem. Their concerns were purely short-term. Fiscal. The result? Over-leverage in an industry that has no real path to profitability, burning billions of dollars and the environment - both digital and otherwise - along with it. ... Societal and cultural pressure is nothing new, but the ways we experience it are now elaborate and chaotic. Our relationships — professional, personal, and romantic — are processed through the funhouse mirror of the platforms, changing in ways both subtle and overt based on the signals we receive from the people we care about, each one twisted and processed through the lens of product managers and growth hackers. Changes to these platforms — even subtle ones — actively change the lives of billions of people, and it feels like we talk about it like being online is some hobbyist pursuit rather than something that many people do more than seeing real people in the real world. ... I believe billions of people are in active combat with their devices every day, swiping away notifications, dodging around intrusive apps, agreeing to privacy policies that they don’t understand, desperately trying to find where an option they used to use has been moved to because a product manager has decided that it needed to be somewhere else. I realize it’s tough to conceptualize because it’s so ubiquitous, but how much do you fight with your computer or smartphone every day? How many times does something break? How many times have you downloaded an app and found it didn’t really do the thing you wanted it to? How many times have you wanted to do something simple and found that it’s actually really annoying? How much of your life is dodging digital debris, avoiding scams, ads, apps that demand permissions, and endless menu options that bury the simple things that you’re actually trying to do? You are the victim of a con. You have spent years of your life explaining to yourself and others that “this is just how things are,” accepting conditions that are inherently exploitative and abusive. You are more than likely not deficient, stupid, or “behind the times,” and even if you are, there shouldn’t be multi-billion dollar enterprises that monetize your ignorance. And it’s time to start holding those responsible accountable.

#ed zitron #rot economy #long reads

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fizzigigsimmer · 1 year ago

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Fargo s5 Episode 8: Manipulation and Codependency.

I am UNWELL after this last episode. I have so many thoughts. What it says on the tin, this is just me processing my reaction to the latest episode so if you are not caught up, spoilers will be found within.

Let’s start with the lady of the hour. Miss Dot. Miss Dorthy Lyon 👏🏾 Put some respect on her name. This character is endlessly fascinating to me. She’s incredibly complex. Almost over powered in one sense, but also incredibly fragile. We’re seeing now in clearer detail what an accomplished manipulator Dot is. She’s not just a fighter. She’s not just hiding and masking her trauma. She is actively playing the people around her and moving them around a board in her mind. The same way Roy does. The same way anyone in a position of power does, honestly.

Roy and Loraine and people in general, we seek control over others out of a place of insecurity, in order to make ourselves feel safe in our little worlds. Survivors of abuse are particularly good at this, and it’s something I am so glad to see the narrative touching on. The media likes to paint victims with cinderella syndrome. They are often childlike innocent caricatures who are endlessly kind and pure in the face of unjustified cruelty, purely so that audiences will emotionally attach to them quickly and feel whatever amount of fear and revulsion the creator wants for the antagonist. But the reality for real people who suffer domestic violence and other forms of abuse is that they’re just people. They have the same potential for good and bad and selfishness, they developed unhealthy coping mechanisms and they learn to play the game just like everyone else. And when you live your life in fear, you have more incentive than most to get good fast at controlling your surroundings.

We see another example of this in Karen this episode. Roy’s current wife is no stranger to her husband’s violent temper and is very aware of the danger he represents. When he’s humiliated in spectacular fashion and likely to lose his election, there’s this palpable tension in the air as the family rides home. We know heads are going to roll, and from the look on Karen’s face so does she. When she first opened her mouth I was so scared for her. lol I wanted to reach through the screen and shake her, like “shut up! That man will kill you.” At first I thought she was being hopelessly naive, saying exactly all the wrong things to try and comfort Roy that were only pressing on the wound. BUT THEN! Then we watch her turn it on Dot. She calls her a curse, playing into Roy’s belief that there are scales to be balanced in order to make the world right again, and pointing out that all of this only happened when Dot came back. She basically says, Dot’s the reason you have bad luck not me. Go hurt her and not me. And then he does. It’s brilliant.

I was on the edge of my seat watching Dot desperately try and hang onto her world. Everything from her name down to who gets to remind Wayne to take his Lactaide medication, using anything and everything at her disposal to do it. When Roy isnt impressed by being reminded he married a child around his own son’s age - oh please, she had hair and her period so she wasn’t a child - she switches tactics quick as a whip and leans hard on Roy’s family man ideals. She relentlessly forces him to confront the contradictions in his actions by reminding him he is destroying a family. Finally, when that fails too she delivers a violent threat. You will do as I ask, or I’m going to hurt you. The writing here was so masterful. They are opposites. We’re rooting for her, and yet, they mirror each other. Dot has been using manipulation tactics she learned at the hands of her abusers to carefully curate a place where she feels safe, and now that it’s all crumbling around her she’s finally starting to see it for herself.

Her scene with Gator was particularly poignant. Because when he comes in, he’s subdued and we get the feeling that he’s there (whether he’s going to admit it or not) purely because he wants to see her. Her, the big sister who used to comfort him while he watched his father abuse his mother. Who then replaced his mother and became his father’s wife while his own mother seemingly abandoned him. The way she plays him in this scene is so heartbreaking to watch but also incredibly insightful. She knows why he’s here: because deep down he wanted to see her. She dances back and forth between playing on their buried bond ( “I didn’t tell the FBI anything” implying, she wouldn’t tell them anything that would hurt him) and plucking on his insecurities (you’re sloppy, you’re weak, you’re a fuck up and your daddy doesn’t love you).

But the biggest card that Dot tries to play is Linda. She tells Gator that she saw her and tries to bring him into her fantasy that Linda got out and has healed from her trauma. That she loves him and never meant to leave him, and that everything will be okay if he just helps her get out. She can take him to his mother and they can leave all of this behind him, and he can finally be free to be the person that deep down she knows he wants to be. And I just love the way this scene was played. Because while it is tempting to believe that Dot is purely just confused from the accident and the sleep deprivation, the music lets us know that more is going on here. We hear flutes, specifically those played by snake charmers. Gator is the snake, and Dot is hypnotizing him before our very eyes. This isn’t the first time Gator has been connected to snake imagery/symbolism either. When Dot decides to tell him why he’s not named Roy after his father, she likens him to a pale little lizard. @tdciago did an excellent post on some of the symbolism we’ve seen in the show thus far, and it really emphasis how often Gator is likened to or associated with snakes: His character bio compares him to the snake in the Garden. His LOL tattoo has forked tongues on the Ls. He's got a "Don't tread on me" flag featuring a snake in his room. He stopped at the Gas 'n Go to "drain the snake." He left an empty Slim Jim wrapper in Donny Ireland's evidence box, that looked like a shed snakeskin. He said that Munch came up "snake eyes."

And as much as Dot’s speech about Linda is about playing on his natural yearning for his mother, it’s also about them too. It’s about Dot. In a way, Dot is also saying that she’s sorry. She never meant to leave him alone. She loves him and she wants things to be alright. They can be if you just help me. Gator obviously wants to believe what Dot is saying is true all of it, but he’s not as dumb as everyone seems to think he is. He knows Dot lies to herself and to others and he calls her out on it. With a single line “You’re lying. You’ve never once in your life told the truth.” we’re left to wonder about all the lies Dot has had to tell over the years. First in order to survive on her own as a teenage runaway, then when she was taken in by the Tillmans, and again when Linda disappeared and she became Roy’s wife.

She told herself that Linda got out, that she was somewhere safe and free and building the life that she wanted. At first she used this lie not to have to face the reality of Roy, of her own likely end, maybe even to appease the twisted sense of guilt she would feel taking Linda’s place and in the light of Gator’s grief over his mother’s sudden absence. Later, she probably used this lie to give herself the courage to be her own Linda. To get out and make the life for herself that she deserved, even if it meant having to leave Gator behind. Even if he doesn’t understand all of the pieces, in his heart of hearts Gator knows his mother is never coming back. She’s either gone or dead, and either way she left him just like Dot did, and Dot is lying to herself.

“I hope you die in here Nadine and that you never see your kid again.” Because that would be justice in his eyes. That would balance the scales. Because he’s never getting out, so why should she?

“No you don’t.” And it’s true. She knows him. Knows he wouldn’t even be here if he weren’t soft. She gave him an opportunity. This was Gator’s crossroad and he chose to stay his course, and the looming figure of Munch reinforces the message that Officer Witt Later delivers, the consequences for Gator are almost here.

Dot too is approaching a crossroad. Because as the episode progresses she is forced to finally confront one of the lies she’s been telling herself for years. Linda is dead. She never made it out. She’s buried under the windmill with Roy’s other enemies. This is not the first time that Dot has seen this windmill, because it was also in her dream about Linda. I would not be surprised if all of Roy’s wives did not witness a body going into that ground at some point or another because of how Karen was so quick to redirect Roy’s rage to Dot. They’re on different sides of the line but they are both fighting for the same thing. To be with their children and not to end up rolled into an early grave.

#fargo spoilers #fargo season 5 #fargo reaction #gator tillman #dot lyon #roy tillman

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raspberryberyl · 5 months ago

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ah I love the dsmp and some people (mainly cc's) are killing me.

I had to watch the cctommy video because idk ocd or i just felt like it would kill me if i didn't watch.

Tommy was usual tommy fashion, and the video was good! Don't get me wrong. I love that he didn't say it was cringe, and was nostalgic and positive about it. That he had good things to say.

I believe and want to believe in my heart that cctommy really cares about the dsmp and ctommy. Sometimes it feels like cc!eret , cc!quackity, cc!tommy are the only ones that really care. That care about the audience that they've created, that try to cultivate it. I want to believe that others care too but its these three that i feel are the most vocal about it.

But watching the new Tommy video, i feel slightly hurt. I know Tommy is just being Tommy fashion and being silly and "annoying", and maybe he's not being completely full hearted and serious because he wants to appease fans that do think it was cringe (which seems to be quite a bit, mostly twt).

But i just feel like, is it so hard to believe that people would care about the story you created? Especially one that is so unique and tackles such raw and real emotions and experiences. for my fellow ctommy fans, its family, home, abuse, suicidality, etc.

Maybe it's because it just doesn't feel real to the cc, that they made this popular series. Maybe it's because to a lot of them it really was just a game and goofing off. But to us fans, it was so much more. We poured ourselves into it. And it hurts to be treated like a joke and "cringe".

I feel grateful to cctommy for saying the positive things he did, but should I? Should i be appreciative that he treats us with bare minimum respect... like yes I know he cares, I think he does, but his joking attitude about it all makes me feel like a joke.

I did not like the constant sexual innuendos about c!tommy. was the foreplay one a little funny? yeah maybe. but describing the classic hurt c!tommy sigh/grunt/thing like a moan? no, i did not like that.

Maybe he's coping with humor. as other people pointed out cctommy was constantly sexualized on that server. And as he said he is an adult now that can joke about it anyway he likes because it is HIM.

I also did not like him describing ctommy as "a bad guy." ctommy had flaws, he was not perfect, that's one of the reasons he is so great, but he was not a bad guy. I could see c!tommy thinking he is the bad guy, but cctommy is the writer and should know better. I don't like being told that an abuse victim who is so very human, is "the bad guy". I might only partly forgive him for this because he talked about how c!tubbo (and cc!tubbo), was often an ignored victim and character that deserved to shine.

I did not like the "making fun of " suicide. Which is a major problem the dsmp writing has.

I am forever hurt by how the cc treat us. I devoted so much of my time and energy to this just to feel like a joke, just for them to act like they don't care. Well i choose to continue to care, because i really and truly do.

I've said it before but cc!ranboo was my main main, i watched every stream, even the non dsmp ones. But with how they treated c!ranboo, i just can barely bring myself to watch them. i did not get into generation loss, it hurts too much. I respect Ranboo for going with his passions and not doing things just to appease fans, but i am forever hurt that he had so little care in the end for something that so many of us cared about.

Most cc are just silent about their dsmp days and have no comment. But then others joke about how the fans cared? cc!puffy i was devoted and excited for your lore, and you failed to deliver it and now treat us like a joke.

And other cc where it just feels like they are trying to milk it for content, don't get me started.

And I'll be honest, I am still sick of all this dancing around the subject in the room that is the problematic cc. I get the cc don't owe us their views, and probably don't want to further drama. But Tommy can you just say you don't like or support Dream! Can any cc be open about it! Tommy stop giving me heart attacks by putting dt in your thumbnails 😭

And yeah this was really long and rant/venty, I feel like i forgot some stuff that i wanted to say so i will just add it later if it comes to mind.

But my point is, people cared about the dsmp. Some people moved on, and many of us are here and still thriving. People care, so stop being surprised that we do. Stop treating us like a joke.

If you're going to mention it cc, be respectful, kind, and maybe don't say anything if you don't really care about it.

the dsmp had many issues, no one is denying, but people cared.

#raz text #dsmp #dream smp #dsmp rant #tommyinnit #cctommy #ctommy #cc!tommy #cc!ranboo #op hates dts and wss #cc!tommyinnit #dsmp cc

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amazingmsme · 5 months ago

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What Do We Have Here?

AN: Finally finished the milestone celebration, & I’m already almost halfway to the next one! I can’t believe how much this blog has grown, my 15 year old self would be so shook if she knew how far she’d come. But I’m not here to get sappy, I’m here to deliver some highly requested curtwen fluff! Hope y’all enjoy the newest installment of the fake interrogation series!

All traditions must start somewhere, even the more unconventional ones. Especially the unconventional ones. Curt remembered it like it was yesterday...

He had just disposed of the remaining guards in the long hallway. The entire building had been strangely sparse, with few obstacles in his path which could only mean one thing: Owen got their first.

Damn it, he really hated when Owen got there before he did. He took all the fun out of it, only to later rub it in his face. It looked like it was shaping up to be one of those times.

That is, until Curt stumbled upon a room being used to interrogate one Owen Carvour. Oh, this was just too good.

He managed to change into one of the less bloodied uniforms from a previously disposed guard. He put on a straight face and marched in like he owned the place. All three heads snapped to look his way.

"Sorry to interrupt gentlemen, but there's been an issue. You're both needed in the lab."

"Excuse me?"

"Who the hell are-"

"Don't give me your fucking lip! Get to the lab now, that's an order!" Curt demanded in such a tone that left little room for argument. The interrogators reluctantly left their battered victim, but not before one spat on Owen before leaving. The other stared him down as he walked out of the room. Curt let them get halfway down the hall before firing two shots, watching them crumble.

Curt was sure they had been the last ones in the building, but just to be safe, he shut the heavy door, concealing them as he freed his partner.

"Perfect timing Mega, they were just about to go for the teeth," Owen quipped as Curt sauntered towards him.

"Pity. If only I'd been a few minutes late," he teased, squatting in front of him to untie his legs. Owen smirked down at him, biting back a larger grin.

"I'll be sure to remember that the next time you're in this situation," he shot back, cocking his head smugly. Curt rolled his eyes, reaching up to squeeze his knee in retaliation. He expected an annoyed huff, maybe a chuckle, but what he got in return was so much better. He shrieked and his entire body jerked in his bonds, even making the chair hop slightly.

They locked eyes, and it only took a moment for Curt to put the pieces together. Owen was already shaking his head, "No no no, Curt wait!"

"Why didn't you tell me you were ticklish?" he asked instead, cutting him off abruptly. "We could've been having so much fun together," he practically purred, rubbing his hands up and down his thighs. His legs twitched in response, tugging on the rope around his ankles.

"That's exactly why, now quit fooling around and get me out of here!" he demanded, hissing through clenched teeth. Curt hummed in thought, tapping his fingers impatiently on Owen's bouncing knee.

"I don't knooooow," he drawled as he stood up and began pacing the room. "This is a very interesting situation." He didn't even bother trying to hide his smirk as he watched Owen glare up at him from his seat. "Oh come on, don't give me that look."

"Then let me out."

"On second thought- no. After all, a man doesn't get in a situation like this every day..." he mused, circling his trapped partner like a hungry wolf.

"Curt, I'm serious!"

"Oh so am I! I mean, this is a real golden opportunity here!"

"Seriously Curt, stop quoting It's a Wonderful Life, you're not George Bailey," Owen scolded as he tried to free himself, seeing as Curt would be useless in that effort. "Have you forgotten we have a job to do?"

"Actually," he corrected with a shit eating grin. "I finished it. Cleared the building too." Owen felt his heart sink to the pit of his stomach. "So really, we have all the time in the world."

Owen frantically shook his head, scooting the chair away from his downright evil companion. "No we don't! I'm supposed to be back at headquarters in 2 hours!"

Curt shrugged, "Alright, so you got a little tied up." He couldn't help but snicker at the pun, making Owen roll his eyes dramatically. "Wouldn't be the first time we ran late."

"Curt."

"I'll just let Cynthia know," he cut him off, pulling up the call on his watch.

"Mega, I hope you're calling with good news," came the unamused drawl through the crackle of static.

"Sure am! Just finishing up around here. But Owen and I are gonna stop off and get a beer, so don't wait up."

"Wasn't planning to." With a click, she was gone, and they were alone once more.

"I hate you."

"That's a lie," Curt said, pointing an accusatory finger and smirking.

Owen snorted, "Not right now, it's not." Curt scoffed, placing his hands on his hips.

"Oh you are so asking for it."

"The only thing I'm asking for is to be let go," he insisted, but the effort was futile. Curt's mind was made up.

"And you will! ... Eventually," Curt said, dropping his voice an octave and putting on a halfway decent Russian accent. Owen smirked in amusement, cocking an eyebrow skeptically.

"Uuh, what are you doing?" he asked, barely holding back a laugh.

"Shut up, I'm interrogating you! What's it look like?"

"Do you really want me to answer that?"

"Oh you'll be answering for a lot, actually," Curt mused. He made a show of grabbing the tray of torture tools and dragging it closer. The tiny wheels slid across the smooth, concrete floor and the sound alone sent a chill down Owen's spine. He knew Curt wasn't planning on using them, but the knowledge of their proximity and the damage they could inflict definitely made his heart race more than he'd like to admit.

Curt began rummaging through the tools at his disposal, picking them up for inspection before tossing them haphazardly over his shoulder. "Nope. Not that one. Nu uh. Too quick. No, too messy. No. No. No..." The tools clattered to the ground one after the other. Owen didn't miss the looks tossed his way as Curt showed off, clearly trying to cheer him up.

"Keep doing that, and you'll have nothing left," Owen piped up smugly. He froze and turned to look at him, a dangerous glint in his eye as he held his hands behind his back. He crouched down to speak directly in his ear.

"Trust me, that's the plan," he purred, and Owen hated how good he was at that stupid fucking accent. A deep chuckle curled around his neck, drawing his attention back to his partner.

That was a mistake, because he was met with fingers wiggling threateningly in his direction and he flinched at the sight, giving himself away. He swore under his breath as Curt laughed at him.

"A little jumpy are we?" he teased with a shit eating grin.

"Fuck you," he barked, feeling the last bit of defiance surge within him.

"Well well well, someone's eager to start!"

"Curt, don't!"

"Who is this "Curt" you keep speaking of? I'm Viktor, world class interrogator. And you will talk..."

Owen rolled his eyes, a smart ass quip on the tip of his tongue, when gentle fingers prodding his sides made him swallow the retort. He sucked in a breath through clenched teeth, closing his eyes so he wouldn't have to meet Curt's teasing gaze.

"They all do."

"That's a bit cliché, even for you, love," Owen said, tilting his head back to smirk up at him.

"Yeah well, I'm not the one tied up, so I wouldn't know," Curt shot back, slipping out of his fake accent before falling back into character. "So... What is it you were hoping to find, snooping around?"

Owen scoffed at the snide dig, but despite his growing annoyance (as well as nerves) he couldn't deny his amusement at the show on display. It was for his benefit, after all. Might as well enjoy it while he still could.

"Your mother's telephone number," he smirked, reveling in the way Curt's jaw dropped to the floor.

And then he felt hands digging into his thighs, and he was a goner.

"I'm sorry, I don't think I heard you correctly. What were you looking for?" Curt repeated, kneading into the soft flesh.

"Curt plehehease! Thihis ihihis stupid!" Owen pleaded through his already growing laughter.

"I told you, I am Viktor," he corrected, squeezing from his upper thighs all the way down to his kneecaps. He gasped and jerked in his bonds when he felt Curt "crack an egg" on his knees, so to speak. His fingers continued scratching his knees in that odd jellyfish-like motion.

Owen's legs twitched from where they were tied down, and he barely held back a surprised laugh. "Q-quit plahaying around! I'm warning yo- NOHO DON'T!" he barked out a laugh when Curt squeezed his knees. He threw his head back and cackled when he didn't stop, only encouraged by the sounds of mirth spilling free from his mouth.

"It would seem I've found your weak spot, Agent Carvour," Curt purred, whispering in his ear so his warm breath curled around his ear and neck. He giggled and scrunched his neck, leaning away in his chair. Curt's eyes sparkled with mischief as he cocked his head.

"Oh, what's this? Is your neck a little sensitive?" he cooed, scratching under his chin teasingly. He let out a choked snicker, slamming his chin down. Curt chuckled and pulled away. "I'll have to remember that."

"No!"

"I'm sorry, but who's the one tied to the chair?" Curt sassed, slipping back into his normal noice. Owen glared at him instead of answering, and Curt smirked. "Yeah that's what I thought."

"Curt, Ihihi swear, as s-soon as I gehet out of hehehere I'm kihicking your ahahass!" Owen tried to sound threatening through his growing hysterics, but failed miserably.

"I don't think so. See, you'll be way too tired to even lay a finger on me," Curt bragged, scribbling his fingers from his ribs down his sides, pausing to drill his thumbs in the hollows of his hipbones. Owen shrieked and bucked against the ropes that tied him to the chair. In fact, you'll be so tired I'll have to carry you out."

Owen whimpered at the threat, the blush on his cheeks darkening. Curt smirked.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" he taunted. Owen's jaw dropped.

"I would not!" he denied, yelping when he felt Curt drill circles against the bone.

"Lying will only make things worse, you know," he teased, shooting him a wink. Owen sputtered for an excuse as he squirmed in the chair.

"Ihi hate you!" he giggled, tossing his head back. Curt grabbed his hair and yanked his head back to look at him, and Owen did not need to dwell on how that made him feel right now.

"Oh I'll make you change your mind," he growled, raking his fingers down his ribs. Owen strained against the ropes holding him to the chair as his laughter grew in pitch.

"Ohohokahay, okahay! You wihihin!" Owen conceded, not wanting to give Curt any more reason to torture him.

"Aw, thanks. Can you be my prize?" he asked, walking his fingers up his ribs. Owen gasped and squirmed in his seat.

"Wha- no! Absolutely not!" He sucked in his belly and barked out a laugh when Curt's other hand dug in without warning, scribbling against toned muscle.

“Yeah, well, you should’ve thought of that before saying I win,” he taunted, scribbling over his sides ruthlessly. Owen shrieked, bright laughter pouring from his mouth as he strained against the ropes tied around his body.

“Plehease, behehe reasonable!” he pleaded, bucking like a bull once Curt latched onto his thighs.

“I think I’m being very reasonable, all things considered,” he cooed, raking his nails down the backs of Owen’s knees. He practically convulsed, blushing when a loud snort forced its way out. Curt let out a gleeful, downright sadistic cackle of his own.

“I didn’t peg you as a snorter, Carvour. Didn’t peg you as ticklish either, yet here we are,” he winked at him before scratching the backs of his knees and thighs, drawing out another snort.

“There won’t be pegging of any kind if you don’t hurry and get me the fuck out of here!” He managed to sound semi threatening as he caught his breath, glaring up at Curt. He looked absolutely ravishing as the blush spread across his cheeks, his hair matted to his forehead with a layer of sweat. Curt couldn’t resist, and grabbed him by the chin, pulling him in for a quick kiss.

“I will babe, but I’m having too much fun right now. Maybe in a few minutes, I promise.”

“You’re going to regret this once we get back to the hotel.”

“Oh I don’t doubt it.” Curt placed his hands on his hips, resting his forehead against Owen’s as his breath hitched. “In fact, I’m counting on it.”

Owen heaved a deeply annoyed sigh, though he sported a sly smirk. “Fine then. As long as you know what you’re in for.”

Curt knew full and well what was in store for him, but right now, seeing Owen tied up and at his mercy, he knew any retribution he’d face would be worth it.

#curtwen #curtwen fic #owen carvour #curt mega #special agent curt mega #spies are forever #saf #spies are forever fic #saf fic #spies are forever tickle fic #saf tickle fic #ticklish!owen

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disasterbiwriter · 8 months ago

Note

You already know I want to read about what happens the first time Jess gets sick and how Luke handles it 😅

As he has every morning since he brought Jess home six weeks ago, Luke wakes up at 3 AM.

It's not terribly far off from his standard 4 AM wake-up-and-meet-the-bread-guy schedule, but given that he hasn't been falling asleep until midnight most of those nights, a victim of sky-high anxiety and a mental to-do list that feels as long as his leg, it feels a little insulting that his body won't permit him to at least sleep until his alarm goes off.

He tries to focus on his breathing in hopes that he'll ease himself back to sleep for another blessed twenty minutes, but the minute his eyes close again, he becomes aware of the barest pressure on the edge of his blanket.

Luke cracks open one eye to see his three-year-old nephew standing next to him, all bedhead and solemn dark eyes.

"Hey Jessy," he croaks. He pushes up on an elbow. "What's up, bud?"

Jess shrugs and doesn't say anything. Not unusual - he's still shy around Luke, warming up by degrees day after day.

"Did you have a bad dream?" Luke tries.

Jess shakes his head.

Luke hesitates, not sure what to do next, then finally tries, "Do you want to come up here and try to go back to sleep?"

That's all it takes. Jess scrambles up the side of the bed and wedges himself firmly against Luke's ribcage. Luke is instantly on the verge of tears.

It's the first time Jess has ever reached out to touch him first.

Luke thinks he's in for it now, an hour of wiggles and kicking, but Jess drops back to sleep immediately. It's impressive, his ability to konk out like that. Luke envies it. Jess's little mouth drops open and the tight fist he has clutched up under his chin relaxes.

Moving centimeters at a time, Luke lowers himself back down on the mattress and gently reaches down to stroke Jess's hair. He breathes in the little boy's sleepy, sweaty scent, which has become so familiar to him he wonders how he ever did without it before. Luke frowns, then dips his head closer and takes another deep breath.

Jess smells... wrong. His normal, sweet, little-boy smell is still there, but he also smells mildly of something vaguely sour and phlegmy. Luke frowns and gently presses the back of his hand to Jess's forehead. A little sticky, maybe, and warm, but not unduly so.

Hm.

"He... smells sick?"

Luke tries to keep his voice level, but Jess's preschool teacher, Ms. Marian, sounds like she thinks he's nuts, and frankly Luke's temper is its own beast even when people aren't treating him like he's crazy.

He counts backwards from ten, then says, "I just figure keeping him home today is the right way to go. If he's better tomorrow, he'll be back then."

Luke stays on high alert for the rest of the day, taking Jess's temperature every hour or so, chasing the little boy down as he wanders through the diner. It's normal all day, and Jess is himself: tactile, curious, still quiet but getting bolder the longer he lives with Luke. Luke, on the other hand, is exhausted from trying to keep up with regular business and making sure that Jess doesn't climb into a bag of flour.

"But imagine how you'd feel if you'd sent him to school and he was sick," Lorelai says that afternoon when he admits that he feels like a mother hen. She's moving through the diner in this balletic way, delivering meals, bussing tables, plucking up one of Jess's crayons to add eyebrows to the monster they are drawing piece by alternating piece. It's starting to look uncomfortably like Taylor Doose, and Luke is certain this is not a coincidence.

"I guess," he grumbles.

"You gotta go with your gut. But guts can be famously hard to interpret." She rubs one hand over her stomach, stretching her face comically and bringing a giggle out of Jess. "Sometimes I think my gut is telling me one thing, but really it's just saying it needs one of Luke's brownies."

"Brownies?" Jess asks hopefully.

Luke shakes his head and checks the register one last time - plenty of singles, quarters, and dimes. "After dinner," he tells Jess. He comes out from behind the counter and angles his nephew towards the stairs. "Tomorrow?" he asks Lorelai.

"It's only a dayyyyy awayyyyy!" she carols after him.

They eat dinner and Jess happily scarfs down the promised brownie. Luke gives him a bath and sniffs his head again (still a little sour), so he washes his hair twice. They read I Am a Bunny once and The Monster at the End of this Book one and a half times (Luke's Grover voice was apparently unsatisfactory in the first attempt) and by the time Jess is asleep, Luke is halfway there himself. He strips and showers and collapses into bed and is asleep before The Arsenio Hall Show.

So when he jolts awake in the middle of the night, fully alert, he assumes it's because he went to bed so blessed early. He glances at the clock: half past twelve. So then what...

The sharp bark that rings out through the apartment pulls him immediately out from under his quilt and to his feet. A seal, he is convinced there is a seal in the apartment. What the hell kind of dream...?

The seal calls again, but this time Luke registers it for what it is. Not a seal, a cough.

He turns on his bedside lamp and squints across the room. There's Jess, sitting up in bed, curled over like an apostrophe. His back is turned towards Luke, and the sharp, barking coughs shake his little frame.

"Oh buddy," Luke murmurs. He palms the thermometer and crosses over to Jess, dropping into a crouch in front of his nephew.

He instinctively touches his wrist to Jess's forehead and hisses in a breath. "Hey Jessy," he says softly, trying for calm, "open up your mouth and let's take your temperature, huh?"

Jess coughs again - it sounds so deeply uncomfortable that it makes Luke want to cough in response. "No, Unca Luke," he whispers - or Luke thinks he's whispering. He realizes a split second later Jess is so hoarse his voice can't get any louder. "My neck hurts," he says now. "Inside." He swipes at his nose, smearing snot across his little cheeks. It's a testament to his two months as a parent that Luke doesn't gag.

"Ahh. Sore throat, huh? Okay then." Luke settles for wedging the thermometer under Jess's armpit, feeling like the lowest dog in the dirt when Jess whimpers that it's cold. They sit for a few moments until Luke pulls out the thermometer and reads it.

101.3.

"Shit," Luke whispers. "Shit."

"Unca Luke, it's too cold." And like a flipped switch, Jess starts shivering so hard it makes his pearly little teeth chatter.

Luke's head swims. "Well, we can do something about that," he lies. He takes Jess's comforter and wraps the little boy up in it, scooping him up into his arms and bundling him against his chest.

In between spikes of panic, Luke manages to get Jess to take a dose of Junior Tylenol, all the while running through the list of options.

Call the pediatrician and leave a message with his service - no idea when he'll call back. Take Jess to the emergency room in Hartford - Luke hates the idea of Jess shivering and crying in the backseat for that long. Call someone - Cesar? Lorelai? - to drive them to the emergency room so he can sit with Jess. He's pretty sure nobody signed up to play ambulance service for their boss and his nephew when he hired them.

All the while Jess is still shivering against Luke's chest, no energy to do anything except cough and wheeze, while Luke spirals closer and closer to a full meltdown.

God, if things weren't already bad enough, Jess's cough is getting so sharp and acute that Luke is starting to get properly scared. Every cough makes his pulse rocket, every whistle from Jess's little lungs is enough to make him choke down tears. His whole body aches to do something, anything to help the little boy.

Suddenly, he finds himself remembering a night not unlike this one: waking up in the wee hours in his childhood home on Peach to the sound of a sharp cough and his mother's soothing voice. He followed the sounds to the bathroom he and Lizzy shared to find her sitting on their mother's lap, the hot water running in the shower, the room tropically steamy.

"Lizzy's got a touch of the croup, is all," his mother explained. "We'll sit here in the steam and she'll be good as new. Go on back to bed, hon. I've got her."

He doesn't believe in messages from beyond the veil or anything hokey like that - that was always Liz's deal - but that doesn't stop Luke from whispering a thank you to his mother as he bundles Jess into the bathroom.

Luke turns the water as hot as it will go and turns on the shower. The residue from Jess's apple-scented shampoo is still on the tub, so for a moment the room smells pleasantly like a pie. Luke settles down on top of the toilet seat lid, tucks Jess up under his chin, and sort of awkwardly rocks them both from side to side.

"Okay, Jessy. Let's just hang out in here for a little bit, okay? The nice warm air is going to help your cough. You're gonna feel better in no time, okay?"

"I want to sleep," Jess moans. He coughs again, rough this time. "I want my ducky pillow."

Luke curses himself. Of course he should have grabbed the ducky pillow! "I know, Jessy," he says aloud. "You're tired. It's late and you're ready to sleep, I hear you. Let's get this cough taken care of and then we'll get some shut eye. I'll stay home tomorrow and we can rest and watch whatever you want on TV."

"Babar," Jess says meekly.

"Babar," Luke agrees.

"Can I sleep in your bed?"

"Sure, bud. Once your cough gets a little better you can snuggle up in my bed. We'll get ducky pillow and you and I, we'll have a sleepover. But for now why don't you just try to sleep on me, okay? I'm not as good as a ducky pillow but Uncle Luke is pretty soft too."

Jess whimpers a little. "It's too bright."

"It sure is, kid." Luke rises into a half stand and manages to use one elbow to knock off the lights. He settles back down onto the toilet lid and gently rubs Jess's back. He watches the steam swirl around them in the glow of the nightlight.

Eventually they both fall asleep. Luke wakes up at eight to the water in the shower running ice cold. Jess wakes up when he feels Luke shift and demands french toast. He's sweaty and cheerful, bright eyed as he smears syrup all over his face.

Thirty-five years later, it's the middle of the night when Luke gets the call.

"I don't know what to do," Jess says raggedly.

"Hey, it'll be okay. Let me listen to her."

There's a pause. Then, "Hi Pops" echoes weakly over the line, followed by an old familiar bark of a cough.

"Hi honey-girl. I'm sorry you're feeling so bad. Let me talk to your daddy again."

There's a shuffle, and then, "Well? Should we go to the ER?"

"It's the croup, Jess. She's got the croup. Go ahead and take her into the bathroom and let the shower run, sit in the steam. She'll be okay. You've got her."

#hey remember that time i demanded asks and then stopped writing?#this one's for ernest who makes my brain wake up whenever she lets me read her writing #ernest only asks lovely things #jess danes au #i'm here jess au #luke danes #jess mariano #sick fic #gilmore girls #gilmore girls fanfic #am writing #fanfic

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