#face shield hat for women

[monkeyssalad-blog]

Jane Forbes by Tyne & Wear Archives & Museums Via Flickr: Name: Jane Forbes Arrested for: Larceny Arrested at: North Shields Police Station Arrested on: 26th January 1905 Tyne and Wear Archives ref: Jane Forbes These images are a selection from an album of photographs of prisoners brought before the North Shields Police Court between 1902 and 1916 in the collection of Tyne & Wear Archives (TWA ref DX1388/1). (Copyright) We're happy for you to share this digital image within the spirit of The Commons. Please cite 'Tyne & Wear Archives & Museums' when reusing. Certain restrictions on high quality reproductions and commercial use of the original physical version apply though; if you're unsure please email archives@twmuseums.org.uk.

[tatsu-534030]

BOO! 👻

Halloween has finally arrived at Night Raven College! And after weeks of turmoil and doing Crowley's errands, you, the esteemed prefect of Ramshackle dorm, can finally unwind and party! And as the saying goes, "Halloween is the one night a year when a girl can dress like a total slut." Surely, nothing's going to go wrong. Right?

featured character: leona kingscholar x afab!reader

warnings: hair-pulling, unprotected sex, overstimulation, biting/bleeding (he gets off you licking his blood #freaky), slight bruising, degradation, rough sex, ribbed cock, creampies, semi-public sex (you guys do it behind a wall), squirting (once), porn with plot

wc. 4.6k

Knock! Knock! Knock!

"Come on, Y/N!" Ace tapped his foot impatiently as he banged on the door, the mummy wrappings on his arms swaying. "By the time you finish dressin' up, the snacks and ghost would've run out!" The boy yelled, glaring at the door.

"Myaa...Does my henchman really need this much time ta get ready?" Grim groaned, adjusting the cute wizard hat on his head.

"Yeah, well," Ace smirked, leaning closer to the door and making a makeshift megaphone with his hands. "If she doesn't come out in the next five seconds, I'm raiding the table snack myself!" Ace yelled, his hands resting on his hips as Deuce sighed— glancing at the other students running towards the festival hall.

"Ace, give the Prefect a second. She's been waiting for this day, anyways." Deuce spoke, shifting from foot to foot—obviously impatient but torn between his respect for women or the free snacks. The blue-haired boy glanced at his watch, 7:15 PM.

"Listen 'ere, Juice." "Deuce."

"No one cares, but I am not missing out on the chocolate fountain just because the Prefect's busy looking at herself in the damned mir—" Ace's complaining cut off mid-sentence as the door finally opened, a sliver of light spilling out before you stepped out.

Suddenly, like all homoerotic (virgin) male teenagers, Ace and Deuce's faces went beet red at the sight of you. "Wh-hh-hWaWhh-hh?????" Deuce sputtered, face awestruck and dizzy. "Wh-WhAt a-are you wearing, Y/N?!" The blue-haired boy's voice cracked, embarrassment creeping into his veins.

"Hmm?~" Tilting your head, you let out a sultry hum. "I'm a cute, hot, sexy vampire nurse!" Doing a little twirl and pose, Deuce let out a loud squeak—shielding his eyes from looking at your tits.

Coughing into his hand, Ace, whose earlier irritation suddenly disappeared, looked the other way. "Ya sure that's, uh, allowed, Y/N?" Ace stumbled over his words, his face about to match the color of his hair.

The corners of your mouth lifted into a playful smile, bending over slightly to grab Grim, who was clawing at your legs to carry him.

Ace and Deuce froze at the sight of the top of your lace bra.

"Don't worry, guys!" Suddenly, you slung your arms over the two's shoulders. "I told Crowley I wouldn't do his taxes anymore if he didn't allow my costume." You giggled, ignoring Ace and Deuce's blank expressions. "He really is an incompetent Headmage..." No words needed to be exchanged to know what the two males thought.

"Hey!" You exclaimed, staring at the two. "You guys ready to go or what?" Ace and Deuce exchanged glances, coincidentally meeting sight with your tits. Spluttering, two chuckled nervously before melting into eager smiles. "Let's go!" The two shouted in unison, excitement running through their veins. ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎

Grim strutted through the beautifully decorated halls of Night Raven College, confidence and arrogance radiating from him like a spotlight. Huffing, Grim secretly glanced at the students, who stared at him with glee. "Yes, yes! Look at my magnificent self!" The cat meowed, satisfied, reveling in the attention.

Laughing, the cat raised his head high and meowed at you. "Behold, henchman!" He puffed his chest, pride seeping off him. "Everyone's so amazed by my costume, they can't help but stare! Nya!"

Beside him, Ace snickered. "Yeah, right." Ace leaned a bit close to Grimm, a smug smile on his face. "You do realize that everyone's looking at Y/N, not you, right?"

Gasping, Grim glared at Ace. "What'cha mean?! They can't not look at meow!" Crossing his paws, Grim scoffed. "Maybe you're the one staring at my henchman!" Ace rolled his eyes and gestured behind him, where some random students stopped to ask you for a picture. And being the kindhearted Prefect that you are (you wanted clout), you, of course, agreed.

What you didn't expect, though, was for a line to form suddenly.

"Prefect! Let's take a selfie!"

"I am so getting a lot of likes!"

"Hey!— I wanna have a pic too!"

"Back of the line!"

Overwhelmed by the sudden rowdiness of the students, you took a step back. "Wait, Prefect! We still haven't taken a pic yet!" A boy exclaimed, raising his phone high up in the air.

Groaning, you were about to call for Deuce and Ace before a gruff voice spoke up—a tense atmosphere settling in the air.

"Oi." Stepping back, you were met with a rough chest and gloved hands gently holding your waist.

"What do ya'll think are doin' to my herbivore?" Humming, you felt the soft fur of Leona's tail wrap around your thigh, your eyes narrowing in amusement.

All the boys that filed into a line flinched, sweat dripping from their faces. Growling, Leona glared at them, ears flattening sideways. "Leave." Everyone scrambled away within a blink of an eye, leaving you and Leona alone.

Well, not really.

"Henchman!" Grim meows, staring angrily at Leona. "Let's go. We have'ta try out the games!" He puffed, his paws raised, and he clawed cutely. Behind was Ace and Deuce, who nodded their head in response.

"Grim's right, Y/N." Deuce said, "I heard from Cater that the lines were really long, so we oughta go right now if we wanna make it to the Haunted House later."

Sighing, you turned back to Leona and fluttered your eyelashes. "Thanks for the save, Leona." You leaned closer to him, discreetly pressing your hand against his groin. With a teasing smile, you went on your tip-toes and kissed your lover on the cheek.

"I'll see you later, alright?" You giggled, only receiving a narrowed gaze from Leona.

Rolling his eyes, Leona gave you a pat on the head before leaning close to your ear— his hot and warm breath causing a shiver to go down your spine. "I'll get you back for this later." Grinning, Leona pushed you gently to the trio, a smug and sultry grin on his face.

"I'll see ya later at the Haunted House, herbivore." He purred, taking delight in your blushing face.

Huffing, you bent over to grab Grim with your legs spread slightly. Exposing a bit of your panties to Leona. Licking your lips, you cuddled Grim nicely against your boobs before blowing a kiss to Leona.

"Let's go AJuice!" You called with an innocent smile on your face. Groaning, Deuce crossed his arms. "When are you guys going to stop calling me Juice?"

Ace hummed, his eyes closing momentarily as if he were actually contemplating the answer. "Never." He laughed before hitting Deuce on the head.

"?!— HEY! COME BACK HERE!" The blue-haired boy yelled, chasing Ace, who got a head start run.

Chuckling at their antics, you gave one last look behind you. "Oh?~" Smirking, you gave a wink to Leona, who stood frozen with hungry eyes and reddened ears.

"Mwa ♡"

‎

Gripping onto Deuce's arm, you shifted your weight from one foot to another. "We've reached the bench, Y/N." Deuce, your ever-so-kind dear friend, took the paper bags from your hand as you plopped down on the bench, your feet burning.

"My feet hurt." You groaned, toeing off one of your heels and then the other.

Beside you, Ace raised an eyebrow as he snacked on a lollipop, not even bothering to hide his smirk. "Well, you're the one who chose to go out on heels." He snickered, giving you a middle finger in response to yours. "Who wears heels to Halloween anyways?" Ace shrugged.

Grinning, you half-huffed before crossing your legs. "Literally almost every single girl ever."

"Though I can see why you wouldn't know that, considering you're a virgin loser." A loud gasp escaped Ace, who stared at you, baffled and offended.

"I had a girlfriend when I was in middle school, mind you!" You pointed your finger at Ace smugly. "Emphasis on had. Bet you had no dick game at all." You snickered, watching Ace's face burn red in embarrassment and anger.

"I will literally—!"

Sighing, Deuce pinched the bridge of his nose before grabbing Ace's shoulders. "Yeah, yeah, we get it, Ace. You got bored of your girlfriend. That's why you dumped her; no need to tell us again." Deuce looked at you, a tired expression on his face.

"And Ace is right, Y/N. It is Halloween, and everyone's out walking. You should've at least bought a spare." Pouting, you crossed your arms as Ace flipped his hair in triumph.

"Serves you right for prioritizin' style over comfort," Ace stuck out his tongue. "SUCKER."

Before you could even attempt to throw your heel at Ace, Grim's excited voice cut through the air. "Henchman!" Jumping on your lap, Grim stood as his flames flickered with excitement, eyes gleaming with light. "Let's go! The Haunted House is finally open!" Your lovely Grim announced, pointing his chubby paw at the eerie and foggy structure.

Before you could respond, Grim had already dashed ahead (seriously, what is it with all these people interrupting you?!), cackling like a maniac. With a final and deep groan, you put on your heels and hoisted yourself up.

Grabbing some of your purchases from Deuce (bless his kind heart), you and the other two idiots made your guys' way to the Haunted House.

"If I trip, you're carrying me, Ace."

"Ha?!"

"Whoa! Lookin' good Y/N-shi!" Turning your head, you saw Ruggie approach you while enthusiastically waving. Smiling, you waved back.

"You're not looking bad yourself, aren't you, Matey?" You and Ruggie laughed, sharing jabs at each other's costumes for a few minutes before you suddenly realized.

"Speaking of which, why are you here, Ruggie?" Scratching your chin, you let out a hum. "I didn't peg you as the type to like this kinda stuff." Giggling, Ruggie rubbed his nape.

"You didn't know? This Haunted House is from Savanaclaw and Octavinelle's collaboration!" Ruggie pointed to the flags of the two dormitories on display on the register for tickets. "Leona-shi didn't wanna handle all the managing stuff, so I'm here makin' sure we get all the scares!" Ruggie roared jokingly, showing off his sharp claws.

"Scares?" You questioned, "Are you guys the scare actors?" Blinking, Ruggie laughed and nodded his head. "Smart as always, Prefect!" The boy smiled before letting out a small oh!

"Speaking of which!" Pulling out a glow-in-the-dark round bracelet, Ruggie grabbed your arm and slipped it on. "Leona-shi told me to give this to you!"

"Huh?" Looking at your slightly glowing bracelet, you pursed your lips before raising your head to ask Ruggie a ques—

...

Why won't anyone let you finish your sentences today?

Sighing, you adjusted your dress before looking at your bracelet again. "I guess I can ask Leo—" "Oi, Y/N! Hurry up over there! We're already buying tickets!" Ace yelled, his obnoxious voice ringing in your ears.

...

You swear you're going to kill him one day.

"Yeah, yeah, don't get your panties in a rush! I'm coming!"

"Can you PLEASE stop saying that?!"

‎

The creaking of the door shut behind you and your two idiot friends, a loud bang resonating within the haunted house. Your eyes glanced around the grand interior of the house, web cobs occupying every nook and corner, dim lanterns flickering as dark shadows loomed over.

"It's just a haunted house, It's just a haunted house, It's just a haunted house, It's just a haun—" Deuce mumbled nervously, jitters crawling in his skin.

Scoffing, Ace put his hands in his pockets. "This is it? Maaa, I thought it would be much scarier." The boy flexed, ignoring how his hand lingered near his magic pen.

Rolling your eyes, you placed Grim on your shoulder and grabbed Ace and Deuce, venturing deeper into the haunted house. Humming, the four of you walked, encountering the occasional jumpscares and nerve-wracking screams. Your footsteps echoed within the eerie hall, creaks and squeaks.

"This isn't so bad," Ace smirked, his hands tucked away in his pockets. "I should've bought a pillow if I knew it would be this boring." The red-haired boy mocked, ignoring how his hand slightly trembled.

Deuce glanced around, his face pale. "Are we sure we're goin' the right way?" He shivered. "We haven't gotten any jumpscares these past few minutes."

You were about to respond, but then there was a flicker. The lights above you flickered and went out, plunging you and your friends into darkness. Swallowing your saliva, you carefully reached your arms out.

"Ace? Deuce? Grim?" You whispered out, suddenly realizing that Grim wasn't on your shoulder anymore. Taking a deep breath, you glanced at your glowing wrist—using the dim light from your glow-in-the-dark bracelet as a makeshift flashlight.

Biting your lip, you carefully searched for any signs of your friends. Stumbling forward, you glanced in every direction, the shadows of your friends merging with the darkness. Panic swirled in your chest as you retraced your steps, only to find that every corridor looked the same.

"Guys?!" You shouted, your nerves tightening. "Where are— hmmpf?!" Something clamped over your mouth, pulling you back with swift, quiet strength.

Your heart leaped through your throat, your body flinching instinctively as you clawed at the firm grip holding you in place. Your voice muffled by the gloved hand as you squirmed, sharp heels digging into the foot of your assailant.

"Stop squirmin' already." a low, sultry growl close came to your ear.

You froze. Leona.

Your struggles ceased as you recognized the unmistakable (and hot) voice of Leona Kingscholar, your head turning to face to face with his usual (and sexy) smirk. You puffed your cheeks as your initial shock melted into annoyance.

Chuckling, Leona slid his hand away from your mouth, a smug grin on his face.

"Wanderin' off, herbivore?" Your lover teased, his tail gently wrapping around your thigh. Rolling your eyes, you leaned your back to Leona's chest. "You're an asshole sometimes, you know."

Purring, Leona wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his chin on your shoulder. "Maybe don't wander off a half-baked haunted house if you can't handle a scare." Underneath the neon glow of your bracelet, Leona's green eyes shone sinisterly, looking at you with barely concealed hunger.

"I didn't wander off. I got lost." You pouted, crossing your arms in a place in which it accentuated your boobs. "And where did you even come from?"

Shamelessly staring at your boobs, Leona gave you a lazy smirk. "Didn't Ruggie tell ya, herbivore? I'm here to give you and your little friends some scares, roar."

You looked at Leona skeptically, doubt evident in your face. Leona raised a brow at your expression, clearly amused. Pressing a kiss to your neck, your lover took your wrist and suddenly grabbed you down the corridor without so much as a warning.

"What the—?! Leona, where on earth are you ta—" The sound of creaking echoed in your ears. Blinking, you found yourself in a well yet discreetly lit hallway that snaked behind the walls. "Is this—?" You glanced at Leona, realizing you were now on the hidden path the scare actors use to navigate.

"At least here," Suddenly, Leona pressed you against the solid wall and smirked— his hand caressing your thighs. "You won't wander off." He smirked, caging your body against his.

Your eyes flickered with a knowing grin, a breathy laugh escaping your throat. Wrapping your arms around Leona's neck, you batted your lashes and giggled. "Is this what you meant by getting me back?" You laughed, leaning closer to Leona. Licking his lips, Leona slowly unbuttoned your shirt, a deep purr vibrating from the sight of your lace bra. White, how cute.

"Leona." You whispered, a cute pout on your face. "Someone might see." Lowering your bra, Leona's lips curled into a lazy grin. "They won't," He paused, fondling your exposed breast. "Trust me, they'd pick up on my scent and yours before walkin' in here and interrupting."

Before you could say anything (again), Leona cupped your face and kissed you— the rough texture of his tongue lapping against yours.

Whimpering, you closed your eyes and scratched against the cloth of his suit, breath taken away from the rough treatment. Feeling your breath cut short, you quickly widened your eyes and muffled desperate cries against Leona's mouth. Seeing how your lover had no intentions of pulling away, you grabbed his braided hair and pulled him back.

"HiICk! Haghh..." You breathed in, a string of saliva connecting your and Leona's tongues. A thundering growl reverberates from Leona, green eyes glinting sinisterly under the dimly lit lamps. "Little feisty today, huh, herbivore?" Leona's sharp fangs nipped against your lips, a small chuckle escaping him when he saw your fake fangs.

"Tryna look like a predator, huh?" Biting his gloves off, Leona's fingers entered your mouth—a choked cry cracking on the back of your throat. "Unfortunately for you, sweetheart," Leona's free hand went underneath your skirt, playing with the waistband of your lace panties. "You're too easily gobbled up."

"haH!" You whined as Leona lowered his head and carefully bit your nipple, removing your panties in the process.

"Quiet now," Leona curled his fingers in your mouth. "Any louder 'n the students outside are gonna hear ya." Shutting your eyes, you nodded as your hands clawed at Leona's still-clothed back.

After a few minutes of teasing, Leona pulled his fingers from your mouth and removed his eyepatch— a hungry smile tugging at his lips as he watched your trembling legs and drool-dripping lips. Removing his other glove, Leona grabbed your thighs and hoisted you upwards—kneeling to face your dripping cunt.

A shiver trembled against Leona's spine when he took a short whiff, a satisfied purr breathing close to your pussy. "Wrap your legs 'round me." Looping your legs on his neck, Leona licked his lips before diving in your pussy—his other hand playing and teasing with your clit.

"mMph!" Quickly covering your mouth, your back arched in pleasure from the sudden onslaught bought upon your pussy. Your head throws back as you watch Leona lap your pussy with glassy eyes, his tongue diving deeper and deeper inside you.

Viciously, Leona flicks your clit—a loud moan muffled by your trembling hands.

Inhaling sharply, you gripped your hands on Leona's hair, deciding to throw all fucks if someone hears you. "Too- much!" Calloused fingertips make their way inside your tightening walls, your pussy throbbing from the stretch.

Below you, Leona continues eating you out like a man starved—actually, like an animal starved. His grip on your thigh stays firm,

obvious bruises that will surely start to form later. He runs a fat thumb on your clit, his digits inside your curling just at the right spot. Tongue so good, he's fucking out your thoughts and words.

"You good there, darlin'?" Leona drawls out, his hot breath hitting your sensitive pussy. Your lips pucker into a cute pout, your face red seeing Leona's wet and dripping tongue. Seeing as you had no intention of saying anything, Leona dives back in—eating you out with more enthusiasm and want.

Gasping, you tightened your legs around his head and gripped his hair tighter, pathetic moans escaping your mouth. "'M gonna—!" Vast open hands cling onto brown hair, desperate whines echoing within the dark hallway as your back arches with indulgence—your orgasm sparking a deep growl from Leona.

You hiccup as Leona continues his assault on your pussy, your body still trembling from your orgasm a few seconds ago. "Baabyyyy," You sobbed, your cheeks warm and puffed. "I just came..." You pouted, which caused an amused chuckle from Leona.

"Can you blame me?" He licked his lips, savoring your cum. "You're just too delicious f'me not to get addicted to." Leona's eyes met yours, swiftly removing his fingers from your pussy. Humming, Leona cupped your chin with his other hand and made you watch him lick your cum off his fingers—the dim glow of the lanterns accentuating your lusty haze.

"Mean." You sniff, looking at Leona with irritation. "You really are mean." Tilting his head, Leona leaned close to you and peppered kisses from your neck to your chest, his hands pulling you close. Humming, Leona snuggled close to your breasts and looked at you with pampered eyes, a malicious glint hidden deep within.

"I know, I am." Your lover says softly, his hands delicately holding yours. "So, please," Leona smiles, kissing the back of your hand. "Allow me to indulge in your presence," He says, kissing your palm. "And let me be mean, even for just this moment."

...

You tried to look away. You really did. But damn it, Leona just had to know how to push your buttons. Your fierce, improper Leona, reduced to a pleading, gentle prince so that he can fuck the living daylights out of you.

...

You tried to say no. You really did.

So with a throbbing pussy and trembling voice, you nodded your head—looking straight into Leona's eyes. "Just..." You breathed in. "Just this once." You whisper, watching Leona smile sweetly.

There's a sudden change in atmosphere as you feel your feet get lifted off the ground, a tiny squeak echoing in the hallway as you stare at Leona's hungry gaze—a lustrous smirk tugging on his lips.

"You really are naive, are you, herbivore?" He laughs, the sound of his zipper unzipping ringing in your ears. "Still," Leona shrugs, adjusting himself properly so you wouldn't be uncomfortable. "You're my naive little herbivore." You flinch as his ribbed dick slaps against your pussy, gazing slightly at your clit.

You tried to say no. You really did.

But damn it, you were horny.

You hate Leona.

You really, really hate Leona.

"hIicK! N-No m—!" You squeal, mouth once again covered with Leona's as his hips thrust in you hard. Twitching, you whimper as the fat stretch and drag of Leona's cock aches inside your pussy, tears dripping from your hazy eyes and cum dripping from your already stuffed pussy.

"Loud." Leona grunts, prying your legs open. "You're bein' a bit too loud, herbivore." He huffs, pressing his hips deeper.

Huffing, you gripped Leona's wrist, contemplating if you should really do it.

Fuck it.

"!" Gasping, you instinctively arched your back when Leona stilled his thrusts, your walls pulsing around his dick. Suddenly, Leona pulled his hand away from your mouth—looking at his bleeding palm with a blank.

"Heh." A breathy laugh escaped Leona, who pried your mouth with his fingers—a dark, deep blush settling on his face, seeing his blood drip from your fake fangs.

"So the herbivore bites back, huh?" Before you could speak, Leona shoved his hand on your mouth with a crazy grin. "C'mon, lick." Your lover demanded, the bitter taste of his blood flooding your tastebuds.

Your eyes widened, your heartbeat thrumming so loud that Leona could hear it faintly. A daring smile appeared on Leona, his gaze full of arrogance. "If you're going to start something," He pressed his bleeding palm deeper into your mouth. "You'd better finish it."

You glared at Leona with narrowed eyes before gripping his wrist and pulling his hand away slightly. With a sultry sigh, you stuck out your tongue and slowly licked the dripping blood off his wrist to his palm—a seductive smile on your face as you and Leona stared at each other with lust.

Your eyes never left Leona's enchanting green eyes, your teeth and lips all bloody from the wound. Batting your eyelashes, you pressed a deep kiss to the wound and sucked the blood out. The scent of your arousal heightened as Leona shivered with ecstasy.

"Just that like that." He coos, feeling his dick get harder inside your pussy. "Lick it clean." He smirked, grabbing your waist and dragging pussy deep on his dick.

"mhm!" Moaning, your nails dug deep into Leona's arm, his toned hips bucking into you so hard you see stars. Your lover whispers nothing but filthy words to your ear, which goes out of the other with how merciless and rough he was being.

"Fuck, fuuuEeEK!" Choking, Leona pressed his hand on the outline of his dick hard, the pressure causing your voice to hitch and for you to cum. "You're too- too—" Drool dripped from your open mouth, blood mixing with your saliva as you struggled to form proper words and thoughts. "Deep!" You scream, clear liquid gushing out of your pussy along with Leona's hot cum spurting inside you and straight to Leona's clothing.

Hot, languid breaths filled the dim hallway, your toes curling when Leona unapologetically toys with your clit. "heUk!" You sheepishly moan, your throat swallowing thickly as you try to salvage your nonexistent dignity. For a moment, you and Leona stood still, your thighs trembling and pussy dripping, but Leona's soft and tender caresses gave you leeway to rest, even for a bit.

Mumbling, you felt your eyes droop down, exhaustion finally catching up.

Leona, who was watching you with a tender gaze, quirked his eyebrow. Licking his lips, Leona leaned close to your ear—your mind fuzzy to realize what was happening. With a deep and dark chuckle, Leona's grip on your thighs hardened.

"Boo."

"?!— heUk! HIicK!!!—" Grinning, Leona slammed you against the wall and raised your sticky legs high, his dick hitting juuust right.

"L-leo-Leoonaaaa!!!" You whimper, broken cries, and hiccups sniveling from your sore throat. Ignoring your pleas, Leona pressed his weight deeper to yours, his toned abs harshly colliding with your soft and cum-filled stomach.

Grunting, Leona's spine shivered as he smelt your arousal—glittering sweetness and sparkling lust overfilling his senses—a tight knot forming on his dick.

"Not now." The green-eyed lion thought, fondling a piece of your ass. "Not here." He continued, hazy eyes narrowing when he gave your rear a loud spank. "'Nother day." He decided, controlling his urge to throw away all manners and fuck you like the animal he was.

A shrill scream peaked at your sore throat, your Drool and tears dripping to the cum-soiled wooden floor. He was getting sloppy. Impatient fingers rub against your clit, a strangled moan getting stuck in your throat.

You were so, so sensitive.

Stars cover your vision, your mind turning into mindless mush as Leona continues hitting his dick right into your cervix.

A break. You needed a—

"hAH!" Wanton cries echoed, rough fingers gripping your waist tight as Leona rubbed the prominent bulge from his dick on your stomach with intense fervor. "Give," Leona groaned, swallowing thickly. "Give me a sec." He breathed in, a piercing gaze staring right into your glassy ones.

Biting his lip, Leona gave one, two, three more thrusts before he came—filling your already full and sensitive pussy.

"Mhm." Breathing deeply, Leona pressed his forehead against yours and smiled. His tail curled peacefully on your waist. "You did good, herbivore." He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, carefully taking his dick out of your cum filled pussy.

"Can ya walk?" Pulling your panties up, Leona gave one last kiss to your pussy before expertly adjusting your panties so that his cum wouldn't spill.

"Do you think I can walk?" You huffed, gripping tightly onto Leona's collar. Rolling his eyes, your lover gently fixed your appearance and wiped off the cum on your bare skin. "C'mon," Leona looked at his watch, 8:30 PM.

"I'll carry ya. The event's about to end, and I'll never hear the end of it if I leave you here with tremblin' legs like a lamb." He teased, ignoring your annoyed glares.

Exhausted, you let yourself get carried by your lover's strong arms, the scent of his perfume calming your nerves and giving you a sense of peace.

"You owe me a shopping trip for ruining my costume." You groan, feeling his cum swish inside you.

Chuckling, Leona nodded his head and purred. "Anythin' for you, darling."

this work belongs to @lili-534030, please do not copy or repost.

status: edited (added more smut)

[favefandomimagines]

Back in the Saddle (t.o)

Request: @glenxjesse “I was wondering if I could request a Tyler Owen/reader. Where reader fell off her horse and got pretty badly injured with a concussion and a shattered heel bone and needed surgery and Tyler takes time off of wrangling to take care of her while she’s laid up, making sure she has everything she needs and carrying her around to different rooms because she hates her crutches and he’s worried about her falling again, also comforting her at night when the pain is really bad and she can’t sleep. Last year I fell off my horse with those exact injuries and I just feel like Tyler would be the most attentive, comforting boyfriend. Thank you! Please feel free to change whatever you want! And if you don’t want to write it I understand as well! Hope you’re doing well! Love your writing by the way!”

AN: I am SO SORRY this took me so long!!! Life got in the way and I totally forgot! I hope you all enjoy some Tyler Owens fluff!

Summary: Tyler puts his storm chasing on hold to take care of Y/N after a horse riding accident and there’s no where else he’d rather be.

Tyler’s boots scuffed the dirt as he moved slowly across the ranch, his broad hat shielding him from the unforgiving late afternoon sun. The sky stretched vast and blue, with a hint of dark clouds building on the horizon, the kind that usually sent him chasing after the storms in his beat-up red truck.

But today wasn’t like most days. He wasn’t tracking any storms or watching the sky for funnels with Boone. Today, he was watching over Y/N.

Y/N sat on the porch, her right leg elevated and wrapped in a thick cast. Her face, normally flushed with color from riding her horse under the big sky, was pale. The pain was evident in her tight grip on the armrest of the chair. A concussion and a shattered heel—the doctor had said it could’ve been worse when she fell off her horse, but to Tyler, it already felt like a nightmare.

She had to have surgery to repair her foot and her recovery time is 3-4 months. Which for Tyler felt like an eternity. Afraid something else could wrong while she wasn’t mobile enough to protect herself.

He walked up to her, gently placing his hand on her shoulder. "You need anything?" His voice was soft, like a breeze passing through the fields, but beneath it was a current of concern.

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes heavy with the exhaustion of pain and sleepless nights. "I’m fine, really. Just... tired of these stupid crutches. My arms are killing me."

Tyler crouched beside her, his face level with hers. "I know it’s hard, darlin’. But you gotta take it easy for a bit. The crutches are a pain, but they’re helping you heal."

She let out a huff, frustrated. "I hate being stuck here. You should be out chasing storms, Tyler. Not babysitting me."

"Hey," Tyler said firmly, but his smile softened the edge in his voice. "This ain’t babysitting. This is takin’ care of you. And I wouldn’t be anywhere else."

Her lips quirked into a small smile, though she tried to hide it. "I don’t want to hold you back."

"You ain’t holdin’ me back, baby. I’d miss a hundred storms if it meant bein’ here with you. Don’t you know that by now?"

Y/N’s eyes flickered, a mixture of relief and guilt dancing in their depths. She reached out and took his hand. "I’m sorry, Ty. I just... I hate being this helpless."

Tyler stood and pulled her into a gentle hug, mindful of her injuries. "Ain’t nothin’ helpless about you. You’re one of the toughest women I’ve ever known. But right now, tough means lettin’ yourself heal. And I’m here to help with that. It’s what I want to do."

For the first time all day, Y/N’s shoulders relaxed. She rested her head against his chest, letting his steady heartbeat calm her restless mind. "Thank you."

They stayed like that for a few minutes, the setting sun casting a warm glow over the porch. Tyler finally pulled back, a playful grin on his face. "Now, how ‘bout we get you inside? Doc said you need to rest."

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her lips. "I’ve been resting all day."

"Yeah, but you haven’t had my world-famous chicken noodle soup yet," Tyler teased.

"Oh really? World-famous, huh?"

"In at least three counties," he said with a wink.

Tyler scooped her up in his arms and carried her towards the front door. “You know you’re supposed to do this when you get married, right?” Y/N questioned. “Hey, it’s good practice.” He replied.

||

That night, Tyler sat beside the bed, his boots kicked off and his legs stretched out in front of him. Y/N lay on her back, staring at the ceiling, her face contorted in pain she was trying hard to hide. But Tyler noticed. He always noticed.

He leaned over, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. "You okay?"

Y/N blinked, her eyes glistening. "It’s just... the pain. It’s worse at night. I feel like I can’t get away from it."

Without hesitation, Tyler slipped into bed beside her, carefully wrapping his arms around her without putting pressure on her leg. He pulled her close, resting his chin on the top of her head.

"I’m right here, darlin’," he whispered. "I ain’t goin’ nowhere."

Y/N took a shaky breath. "I know. But I don’t want to keep you up all night."

Tyler kissed the top of her head, his lips warm and comforting. "Don’t worry ‘bout that. Sleep or no sleep, I’m here. You don’t have to go through this alone."

She buried her face into his chest, the familiar scent of him—earth and leather, storm clouds and fresh hay—giving her a sense of peace she hadn’t felt all day. "Ty... what if this takes longer than 4 months to heal? What if I’m not the same afterward?"

Tyler’s grip tightened just a little, enough to reassure her without hurting her. "Then it takes longer. And if you ain’t the same, we’ll figure it out together. You think I’m here just for the ridin’ and the fun days? No. I’m here for all of it. The good, the bad, and whatever comes next."

Y/N swallowed hard, her eyes closing as the pain seemed to lessen, just a bit, with his words. "I don’t deserve you."

"Now, that’s where you’re wrong," Tyler said, his voice soft but firm. "You deserve the world, Y/N. And if I can give you even a piece of it, I will. You’re my whole world."

Her breath caught in her throat. She hadn’t expected him to say something so raw, so vulnerable. "You mean that?"

Tyler chuckled softly, his voice rumbling in his chest. "More than you know."

Y/N snuggled closer, her body relaxing into his. The pain was still there, but it wasn’t as sharp, not when she was wrapped in the safety of his arms. "I love you, Tyler."

"I love you too, darlin’," he murmured, his lips pressing softly against her forehead. "And I’m here for the long haul. Ain’t nowhere else I’d rather be."

The night stretched on, the sky outside dark and the stars shining. Tyler stayed awake, his arms around Y/N, listening to her breathing slowly even out as she finally drifted into sleep. He didn’t mind missing the storms. There would always be another tornado, another season. But there was only one Y/N, and she was worth every missed chase, every long night spent by her side.

As he lay there in the dark, the distant rumble of thunder echoed from far-off storms, but Tyler didn’t stir. His focus was here, on the woman he loved.

And as long as she needed him, that’s exactly where he’d be.

[newtonsheffield]

Okay but how insane does Kate go when she wins her first Olympic medal in France on a damn clay court?

Clay courts and Kate Sharma are not a match made in heaven. She hates everything about it right down to the fact that it makes her shoes dirty.

She does love one thing about it though: She convinced Anthony to enter mixed doubles with her.

“Kate, babe, we wouldn’t qualify. I haven’t played pro tennis in nearly a year.”

“It’ll be fun.” Kate hummed in his ear as they lay in bed. “We’ll be great.”

“I haven’t even played at Roland Garros for at least five years.”

“We can galivant around Paris. See if we can break one of those cardboard beds. I want to share this with you.”

Anthony groaned, “Damnit! How do you always convince me to do this shit?”

“I’m very pretty.” Kate hummed, “I think it helps.”

Two days later it’s announced that Anthony Bridgerton and Kate Sharma have formed a mixed doubles team to qualify for the Olympics. Team GB is desperately hoping they can do it because god, what a story. Kate Sharma and Anthony Bridgerton. Tom Dorset should be the king of British tennis, and he is really, but Anthony Bridgerton is such journeyman. It’ll be the cherry on top of his career and his relationship ship with Kate Sharma is free advertising. They’d been hoping Kate might relent and do doubles with Tom Dorset but Anthony Bridgerton? Even better.

Everyone expects Kate to win Women’s singles. She’s won every slam so far this year, her form’s never been better. This is her chance to win a gold medal and Kate would be feeling the pressure. And on her least favourite surface as well. But it’s hard to feel it with Anthony beside her. With him cheering her on in the stands. It’s exhausting, managing singles and doubles but doubles doesn’t feel like work.

It feels like her and Anthony messing around at home. She loves seeing the joy on his face when he pops up with an overhead smash that has their opponents ducking out of the way. She loves sitting beside him at the changeover, Team GB written on his chest in their matching uniforms. She loves whistling when Anthony squats in front of her as the crowd roars with laughter and Anthony rolls his eyes.

“I know this is really serious; but this is actually a lot of fucking fun this year.”

For both of them the Olympics haven’t been a happy hunting ground previously, and in a way clay courts have been even less so, but this feels almost easy. The crowd doesn’t feel like pressure. Their families sat in the box together cheering with the rest of the crowd, it finally feels like Kate can feed off the energy.

“You can just tell me I was right.” Kate kissed him quickly as she adjusted her hat, chuckling as the crowd cheered for it.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Anthony sighed, standing up, shielding her from the sun. “Let’s go get into the final.”

“Ah he wants his gold medal, now! After I had to drag him here.”

It feels almost surreal, standing on the top step of the podium with Anthony’s arm around her waist with medals hanging around their necks as the national Anthem plays. Feels even more surreal when Anthony leans down as kisses her with a chuckle on his lips.

“I love you.”

Kate nodded, hugging him tightly, “Love you too.”

“I’m going to marry you.”

Kate could hardly breathe “Ask me properly then.”

“Soon.”

Kate does win the gold in the Singles as well as it turns out. The very next day she’s back on the top step of the podium and three gold medals hang in their house but her favourite one is the one they won together. The one that brought them both so much joy.

[the-dumpster-fire-of-life]

I saw you did a similar request as my last one so you can let that one slide if you wish !!

I also had this idea of how Tom would react to his s/o (preferably another artist) getting super mad at the paparazzi

(hello! Sorry if this is bad, I wrote it in the car lmao. But, enjoy!)

Give Them a Headline

Tom hadn't been with you when you went off on them

It was usually Bill with you the few times you did

The first was when you guys had just started getting popular

You guys were kids

Who had just finished a set late at night and needed sleep

And paparazzi would not stop bothering you and Bill

One even tried grabbing Bill

It was a pretty young woman who grabbed him and shoved a mic and camera in his face

Bill couldn't even talk and was blinded as everyone crowded you guys

Security was trying to get them away but could only do so much

So you took it in your hands to clock the bitch and her camera

Bill was happy you helped him but was shocked

Tom only heard about it because it ended up in tabloids across the web

Other times you yelled at paparazzi

As you got older and it kept happening, people thought you were rude and aggresive

But others understood you guys were kids and needed privacy

Tom didn't think about what would happen if he was ever there with you when hat happened

Until it actually did happen

"Oh my fucking, god. Move!" You yelled out the window to the paparazzi, getting a laugh out of Tom as you guys tried getting home.

"Relax, we'll get out soon enough." Tom tried to reassure you, his hand in your thigh as you scoffed at the people with cameras.

"It's dumb, they got their pictures, we're trying to get to her hotel." You explained, barely giving him a glance before a camera man jumped in front of the car, almost on the hood.

"Are you kidding me?" Tom scoffed at him before he was shoved aside as you laid your hand on the horn, and hard.

The man jumped off the hood out of shock as you flipped him off.

"You're gonna end up in another tabloid." Tom said, amused and understanding about your actions.

"I don't give a shit, I want to sleep." You sighed, rubbing your temple as Tom sighed, squeezing your thigh for comfort as he tried to maneuver out of the maze of people.

It didn't seem to stop, camera men and women with mics all kept following the car. Even fans from the concert yelled and followed the car.

"Go, go, go!" You yelled, pointing to an opening as Tom tried to floor it.

"Seriously?!" You yelled again when they blocked that exit, again.

"Go away!" You yelled at the window as they came up to your guy's windows, shoving cameras as they flashed into the cracks.

You could barely see, shielding your eyes with your hand.

"(Name)! Tom! Just a few questions!" A woman yelled, somehow getting her mic through the slit in the window.

"Oh, fuck this." You muttered, Tom was barely able to look and see as you grabbed the car door handle and shoved the door open.

"(Name)! Get back in!" Tom yelled as he saw you use the door to shove the woman back, getting out effectively and yelling at her.

Tom couldn't hear the obscenities, but he could tell what they were from the looks on the others' faces.

"Shit, shit…" Tom muttered, getting out to follow quickly as he moved to your side of the car to get you back in.

"Get the fuck out of our way! Don't you have anything better to do than harass people half your age?!"

You yelled at the adults, covering their cameras and throwing the mics they shoved in your face away from you.

"Yo! Get in the car." Tom tried to get you back in the car, not that he wasn't enjoying it, he just didn't feel like dealing with angry internet trolls.

"Get this shit out of my face!" You grabbed a camera, one that a man got too close to you, throwing it and yelling at the guy.

"(Name)!" Tom laughed, it slipped out as he wrapped one of his arms around your waist, using the other to open the car door.

"Get in." Tom said, still laughing before he stopped as you grabbed a cup from the cup holder and threw it at the woman who shoved the mic in the window.

"What the hell, kid?!" The woman yelled, now doused in sticky soda.

"Get a fucking life!" You yelled as Tom now used both of his arms to get you in the car, closing the door quickly and going back to the driver side.

He got in the best he could without hitting people out of his way, slipping in the seat fast enough to see you flipping off paparazzi.

You honked the horn loudly as Tom drove, effectively scaring them out of the way not to be fun over.

It wasn't long before you guys got out of there, you breathed heavily as Tom drove.

Tom then couldn't help the laugh that slipped out, getting your attention.

"What?" You snapped, more annoyed at the paparazzi than him.

"You're a piece of work." Tom joked, his laugh now getting a little one out of you.

"They're tiring, I wanna go to the hotel and sleep." You explained, settling into the seat.

"Maybe you should do that more often. Her face was hilarious." Tom nodded, a smirk on his face as he leaned over to kiss your neck lightly.

You smiled, kissing his cheek when he pulled back before settling back in, his hand back on your thigh.

"Might as well give them the fucking headline."

[wingedblooms]

Here are some moments in the acotar series and spin-off that give the same vibes as these books @courtofmaas featured on instagram. These books were in the background when Sarah shared that she was working on the next acotar spin-off book.

Below the Edge of Darkness by Edith Widder

The River House had finally fallen quiet after the raucous Winter Solstice party, the faelights dimming to cast little pools of gold amid the deep shadow of the longest night of the year.

[…]

But even the silence weighed too heavily, and though the shadows kept him company, as they always had, as they always would, he found himself leaving the room. Entering the foyer. Soft steps padded from under the stair archway, and there she was.

The Faelights gilded Elain’s unbound hair, making her glow like the sun at dawn. She halted, her breath catching in her throat. (Azriel’s bonus chapter)

The Once and Future Sex: Going Medieval on Women's Roles in Society by Eleanor Janega

“She loves to garden. Always loved growing things. Even when we were destitute, she managed to tend a little garden in the warmer months. And when–when our fortune returned, she took to tending and planting the most beautiful gardens you’ve ever seen. Even in Prythian. It drove the servants mad, because they were supposed to do the work and ladies were only meant to clip a rose here and there, but Elain would put on a hat and gloves and kneel in the dirt, weeding. She acted like a purebred lady in every regard but that.” (acowar) 

-

Elain is pleasant to look at, her mother had once mused while Nesta sat beside her dressing table, a servant silently brushing her mother’s gold-brown hair, but she has no ambition. She does not dream beyond her garden and pretty clothes. (Nesta's memory of Mama Archeron, acosf)

-

"Go back to Feyre and your little garden." (acosf)

-

Elain said, "Then I will find it. I might require some time to...reacquaint myself with my powers, but I could start today."

"Absolutely not," Nesta spat, fingers curling at her sides. "Absolutely not."

"Why?" Elain demanded. "Shall I tend to my little garden forever?" When Nesta flinched, Elain said, "You can't have it both ways. You cannot resent my decision to lead a small, quiet life while also refusing to let me do anything greater."

"Then go off on adventures," Nesta said. "Go drink and fuck strangers. But stay away from the Cauldron." (acosf)

Redouté. The Book of Flowers by H. Walter Lack

If Elain was a blooming flower in this army camp, then Nesta…she was a freshly forged sword, waiting to draw blood. [...] Nesta stared them all down. Elain kept her focus on the dry, rocky ground. (acowar) 

-

She had no mental shields, no barriers. The gates to her mind…Solid iron, covered in vines of flowers–or it would have been. The blossoms were all sealed, sleeping buds tucked into tangles of leaves and thorns. (acowar)

-

If Elain’s mental gates were those of a sleeping garden, Nesta’s…They belonged to an ancient fortress, sharp and brutal. The sort I imagined they once impaled people upon. (acowar) 

-

“What now?” Elain mused, at last answering my question from moments ago as her attention drifted to the windows facing the sunny street. That smile grew, bright enough that it lit up even Azriel’s shadows across the room. “I would like to build a garden,” she declared. “After all of this…I think the world needs more gardens.” (acowar) 

Like @psychologynerd said in this post about the Book of Flowers, Elain is coming. 🌸

[abugsjournal]

A Cowboy's Cup of Coffee ☕

Arthur Morgan x male reader

Summary: After a sweet apology from Arthur your budding friendship grows! You have plans to meet Arthur outside of work for the first time, but must deal with some drama in your café first.

Content Warning: Mention of drinking, men being creepy, threats of violence.

Chapter 2: Headaches

Arthur's POV

It's been about a week since your social blunder at the café. You've been offering to go on hunting trips to avoid going into town. You would rather come face to face with a bear than make a fool of yourself in front of Y/N again. You kick yourself for being worried about his opinion of you in the first place. That shouldn't matter, why are you even thinking about it?

Luckily, you don't encounter any bears, but today's hunting trip with Charles was the most successful one you've had since you settled down in this spot. Everyone back at camp was elated. So elated that as the hearty deer stew was being served, bottles of whiskey and rum were opened and passed around the campfire with equal enthusiasm. You remember the women's tipsy giggles, and the men getting a little loud and rowdy, but not much else.

As you open your eyes you feel your head screaming in pain. You roll out of your cot, swallowing and forcing the rising bile back into your stomach. The morning light is blinding, you squint and shield your eyes as you exit your text. As your vision adjusts you can see everyone else feels just as miserable. There's a collective groan as the gang members each start working on their tasks for the day. You know you'll be absolutely useless until you nurse this headache, but the smell of the coffee over the fire almost makes you gag. The only thing you think you could stomach is the coffee from the café in town. You sigh, weighing your options, and decide you would do anything to make your head stop pounding, even if it means risking an awkward conversation. As you ride into town, you rehearse a long overdue apology in your mind.

Y/N's POV

A few slow, monotonous days pass by you. You find yourself watching the door to your café, silently willing it to open. Every time you hear that bell ring you get a small rush of excitement, but it's crushed every time you look up and see a regular's face.

Did I somehow scare him off? You replay your last interaction with Arthur over and over again in your mind. It wasn't the first time you had caught a customer staring at you, but it was one of those rare instances where you weren't mad about it. Small towns feel smaller the longer you stay in them, so new faces excite you. Maybe you got too excited. You begin to convince yourself that you were too forward, or he was just traveling through town, or is flat out avoiding you when you hear the bell above the door ring once again.

Expecting disappointment at this point, you can't keep your eyes from widening in surprise when you see Arthur in the doorway. He is fidgeting with his hat in his hands as he approaches the counter. He has dark circles under his eyes and squints slightly as he looks in your direction. Working in a coffee shop for so long has taught you to instantly recognize a hangover. You intentionally keep your voice at a lower tone and quieter than usual as you greet him, "Hey friend, welcome back. Rough night?"

"Very fun night from what little I can remember, just a rough morning," He closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, "Listen, I just wanted to apologize for the other day."

"There's no need, really, you didn't do anything wrong-"

Before you can finish your sentence, Arthur interrupts you, "I was rude to you after you were kind to me and you didn't deserve that." He stares directly into your eyes, and you can see they're filled with sincerity, "I'm truly sorry if I made you uncomfortable at all, and for rushing out the way I did."

You feel paralyzed by the weight of his stare, and you can see the guilt in his eyes. Even though you don't think he did anything warranting such a genuine gesture, you can tell he won't let it go until you accept his apology.

"Alright," You sigh, "All is forgiven."

The beginnings of a smile quickly shift into a wince of pain on Arthur's face. "I'd love to accurately express my gratitude but I think I might die if I don't get some coffee in me soon," He slides some change across the counter towards you, "And whatever you have on the menu today smells amazing, I'll have one of those too."

"Thank you! It's mini strawberry shortcakes today, now go sit down before you pass out or puke on my floors." You smirk, trying to ease some of the remaining tension.

Arthur lets out a small chuckle, "Good idea." He slowly walks over to his usual corner table.

As you prepare his order you think about how to handle Arthur. Based on how he's acted the past few times you've seen him, you come to the conclusion that you'll have to let him come to you, like a stray dog. Being too friendly too fast might scare him off again. You're also thankful that instead of letting one awkward conversation snuff out the sparks of a new friendship, you were both able to move past it.

Small talk comes easy to the two of you now. Arthur comes in nearly every day. You ask him questions about work and he gives you vague answers. He asks you about baking and why the décor in the café is so "unique" as he politely put it. About a month of these pleasantries go by. One day he asks you what you do when you're not working.

"I sometimes try to come up with new recipes for the menu! Or I go to estate sales for cups and furniture."

"That doesn't count, that's just more work!" A laugh escapes you as you realize he's right, "Come on, you've gotta have other things you like doing."

You shyly mention that you like to draw and document the insects and plants in the area.

His eyes widen and the corners of his mouth curl up in excitement, "No way! I have a journal that I draw in."

"Really? I'm surprised, hands like yours usually aren't holding pencils." You smirk at him, narrowing your eyes and hoping your snide comment might pry more information about his unspecified line of work out of him.

He simply laughs, "Ha! Explains why I'm not very good at it."

You roll your eyes at another failed attempt to learn more about his job. Is he avoiding the subject on purpose or just being dense? "Well if you ever want to share of see some of my art, my house is just a ten minute walk down the road. It's the little one with the wooden wind chimes."

Arthur seems taken aback by your invitation and takes a moment to respond, "I'd like that. When should I head over?"

"I close up shop at two and if I get through my cleaning fast enough I can probably be home by four. Does that sound good?"

"I'll have to run a quick errand but it shouldn't take too long." Arthur drains the last of his coffee and stands up, "I'll see you later, Y/N."

"See ya, Arthur!" You wave goodbye as he leaves. You can't help but smile to yourself as you clean off his table. You check your pocket watch and sigh, it's only ten.

The minutes sluggishly pass by you as your giddiness grows. You try your best to avoid checking the time in between each task, knowing that will only make the day go by even slower. You're washing plates behind the counter when two unfamiliar men stumble through your doors. Before you can greet them they walk right past your register and over towards one of your customer's tables. You follow their gaze and see they have their eyes locked on Eva, the eldest daughter of one of the local farmers. She comes here in the afternoons to read without having to worry about her rambunctious little brothers bothering her.

She's so engrossed in her book that she doesn't notice the men saunter over, about two steps closer than they should be. The hair on the back of your neck stands up as one of the men clumsily places a hand on the table, knocking over her cup and spilling coffee into her lap.

"Hey! Watch it-" Eva looks up from her book and sees just how close these men are. Her eyes widen as they lean over her.

"What's a pretty thing like you doing sitting here all alone?" The shorter man's words practically slosh out of his mouth. He tries to put a finger under her chin, but Eva slaps his hand away.

The taller man grabs her wrist. "That's no way to treat someone who's just being nice to you, missy." He hisses through gritted teeth.

You clear your throat and stand with your arms crossed over your chest, hiding your shaking hands, "Excuse me gentlemen, I don't take kindly to folks that harass my customers. I'll give you to the count of three to back away from her and get out."

The men glare menacingly at you, "Or what?"

"Or this pot of boiling coffee is gonna make it real easy for the law to identify your ugly mugs." The thugs glance at each other, and then back at you, "One. Two-"

"Fine." The taller man drops Eva's wrist and drags his companion out the door behind him without another word. The scent of whiskey lingers in the air behind them.

You let out a long exhale. You knew you wouldn't have been able to win that fight if things had escalated, but they didn't need to know that. "Eva, are you alright? Do you need me to walk you home"

"Oh I'll be alright," She stands up and tries to wring the coffee out of her dress, "Thanks for scarin' them off!" She gives you a big smile as she collects her things. You wrap up the remaining shortcakes and send her off with a treat for her troubles.

You check your pocket watch again and you're grateful to see it's finally two. You flip the sign on the door to "Closed" and rush through your closing tasks, quickly forgetting about the incident as your planned meeting with Arthur grows closer. You can't remember the last time you were this anxious to get home. You finish your chores in record time, lock your café doors, and begin walking home. You're so caught up in your excitement that you don't look around for insects to draw like you usually would, but you do notice the squirrels and rabbits in the surrounding forest are skittish. They seem to make much more noise than usual as you follow the trail through the woods.

As you unlock your front door and turn the handle, you hear a voice behind you.

"Look who's all alone now."

//

Thank you so much for reading! Forgive me for the long absence, April is a terribly busy month for me and I was also getting extremely burnt out from work. To be super real the only reason I was able to get this typed out and posted is because I got sick and couldn't get out of bed all day (lol). Tumblr is also being super weird and not letting me indent no matter how I type this out or where I copy and it paste from. Anyone else have this issue?

Chapter 1 / Chapter 3 coming soon!

Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist!

Taglist: @photo1030

[zoros-bandana]

Hi Dove! I’m so happy that ur requests are open!!! So may I please request angst to fluff with Sanji where reader (female please) and Sanji had a fight about something (you can choose and they are together) and then the next day they were ambushed by the marines, reader saw that there was a marine about to creep up to Sanji and she took the hit for Sanji, it was kind of a big slash to the stomach and reader fainted after a while because of the loss of blood and Sanji got angry and began fighting more aggresively? Timeskip after the whole thing Chopper patches up the reader but Chopper said its gonna leave a scar on her body (specifically the stomach). Sanji felt so guilty and keeps apologizing to the reader and reader said that its okay and some other comforting words to Sanji and eventually also says sorry about the fight they had the day before. In the end Sanji takes care of the reader while she recovers. Thank you!!

Sour

(SFW)

Slight angst/slight fluff

Warning: mention of relationship fighting, mention of physical fighting, mention of blood, mention of wound

Summary: Sanji's drifting eye had froze the minute he saw you, however, when it returned, it became a rude awakening. Ending you both in a turn of anguish and hurt.

Word Count: 1,800

Your relationship with Sanji was effortless.

He was kind, as he was with any female he encountered, but with you it was something different. From the moment you joined the Straw Hats there was a sense of relief around him, freeing your once twisted past like loose ends, breaking free of what weighed you down.

And for Sanji it was mutual.

He acted differently.

The once love-sick cook had no longer any desire for anybody besides you, confusing the rest of the crew. He no longer ran after Nami or Robin, simply treating them like he did with the rest of the crew; competent and helpful. His spare time would be swooning over you and granting your every wish, making his priorities realign to appease his girl.

Nothing was too big or too small for him.

That was why, as you docked onto the island of Goruden for supplies, your relationship turned an unexpected sour.

It was a beautiful island, full of warmth and depth, casting every inch of the land in a glow from the sun. And much like the land itself, the people were just as beautiful.

You had taken off with Sanji in tow, heading towards the markets for a restock of food and drinks; a few crew mates tagging along with the hopes of promised luxuries. Upon your search, Sanji's gaze had drifted, taken aback by a tall women with long vibrant blonde hair. Her skin glistened like bronze, covered in a set of orange fabric that draped carefully over her curves. Her face was soft, kind, blushing a smile that drew you in with the faint tickle of her laugh.

Sanji reluctantly let go of your hand, for mere moments, assisting the women as he struggled to hold her basket of overflowing fruits. The sickening crack in Sanji's voice returned, knowing he was in awe of the women in front of him. Feeling betrayed by his actions, you retreated back into the group, shielding yourself from your boyfriend. Your whole body felt heavy, almost on the verge of fainting, fighting the urge to snap at him. You never imagined he would fall back to his old ways, only ever hearing stories of his behaviour, trusting your relationship was stronger than his urges.

But you were wrong.

You kept your distance from Sanji, walking a few steps ahead, clinging onto Zoro and Luffy; knowing it would annoy him the most. His voice continued to ring out to you, over and over, attempting to apologise for his misbehaviour. His stomach tied in knots the moment he realised what he had done, almost in a trance by her aura, unbeknown he was doing it until it was too late. The look on your face as he watched you sink further behind the swordsman broke his heart. He never wished to hurt you, knowing how deeply your trust for him ran, and how devastatingly hard it was for you to trust someone again.

This game of avoidance continued through the day, carrying into the late hours of the night aboard the ship. It was agreed to venture in the morning, leaving the island, giving into the night to rest; sleeping apart from your usual shared bed with Sanji.

Sanji did, however, continue bombarding you with displays of love, hoping to persuade you to come back to him, but his efforts were met short. You had watch the man you love fall back on his estranged love-struck patterns he promised were behind him, making your mind up to sit in the loathing bitterness of your hurt.

Word quickly spread of a pirates arrival to the island, prompting a worried call for marines to surround the ship early into the hours of the morning. It was a heavy blow, drunkenly guiding yourself to the deck just before sunrise, watching your friends already mid battle. Heavy clatters of swords and fired bullets rumbled your hearing, quickly snapping into action to join in the weave of intense crowd to defend your honoured ship.

A sharp snap of blond hair and fire shifted your attention, recognising Sanji's perfectly poised mannerism even in the midst of a fight. Meeting his bright blue eyes you exchanged a silent word, both relieved of each others safety in that moment; still bearing love for one another. Distracted for mere moments, Sanji's position became vulnerable, letting an open on his left switch your attention to the sword coming down towards him.

Your overall skill of endurance surpassed the likes of your boyfriend, quickening your reflexes for a perfect wing of defence to your crew. Snapping into action you took off, racing against the wielded marine to reach the still unsuspecting Sanji.

As you collided with the marine, you disarmed him with a few simple manoeuvres, relieved of your quick defences. He hit the deck in front of you, instantly passing out from the blow which deemed unusually large for someone of your size.

Dusting yourself off you looked back at Sanji, furrowing your brow upon his sickened look.

Sanji's eyes casted at your stomach, his face a ghostly white, mumbling out your name as he grasped your arm tightly. You followed his eyes to your stomach, noticing the large gash that spanned over your full abdomen, seeping through a heavy brown as blood oozed from your wound. Dazed in shock you zoned out, feeling your body shake into the likes of a collapse. You could still feel Sanji near you, his body inching closer in worry, his hands in the stage of lifting you into his arms. Fluttering your eyes you tried to mumble out your confusion, not grasping how the marine managed to reach you in time to cause such a heavy injury. However, your efforts were met short, your body giving in under the loss of blood and soon passing out in Sanji’s arms.

You awoke groggily on your back, fluttering up at the familiar ceiling of the infirmary. Your body rose in a searing pain, targeting your tightly bandaged abdomen, forcing you to groan out. Your voice prompted the answer of two voices, those of people you recognised well, turning your head towards the sounds.

Chopper and Sanji sat by your side, both exchanging a mixed look of relief and joy, leaning in towards your groggy state.

“You’re awake” Sanji smiled, reaching out towards your hand. “I’m so glad to see your face again. You’ve been out of it for a while, we were getting worried”

Squeezing gently you slid your hand in his, intertwining your fingers. It felt almost impossible to speak, your pain heaving heavy gasps for air as you tried to make sense of what was happening around you.

“Everyone else is okay, Y/n” Chopper encouraged, checking over your IV lines; prompted by your obvious pained state. “You just worry about getting better. That wound is pretty deep and it will leave a scar, so don’t move around too much while it heals”

Turning around to face Sanji, Chopper toughened his voice, raising it to make him seem bigger. “You make sure she stays safe, okay? And follow everything I told you earlier! She needs to keep still as much as she can”

“You don’t have to worry about her, Chopper, I'll look after her. There should be some cake up in the kitchen for your efforts, go and help yourself for helping my sweet Y/n-swan”

Chopper squealed in excitement, quickly running towards the door in a flash on fur. As his body hit the deck his voice was followed by the usual kitchen thief’s; Luffy and Usopp.

Returning his attention back to you, Sanji’s face softened, lowering his head to avoid your face in embarrassment. “I’m so sorry, Y/n. I should’ve been there to protect you, to help defend you against that deranged marine. Someone who has the audacity to lay a hand on a women, especially someone like you, truely deserves the worst possibly death”

“I’m also sorry about our fight; about how I acted” Sanji looked back up then. “I need you to know I never meant to hurt you or betray your trust. I helped her because I could never turn my back on a lady in need, and in those few moments even though my attention was on her, all I could think about was you. Her basket carried all your favourite fruits, down to the loose handful of grapes that I know you would happily fight our captain for. The crease beside her eyes when she smiled at me was something reminiscent of how you look at me when I make you laugh. Her hair was curled just the way that your hair does in the morning, framing your face when you look at me. There will never be a moment when I don’t think about you and how much you mean to me. You are my girl, Y/n, and nothing is going to take that away from you”

Fighting against your body you pushed yourself up, ignoring Sanji's protest to rest, moving to sit upright; the stack of pillows behind you cushion your fallback. You cleared you throat promptly, ignoring the surging sting as you coughed, busting enough strength to speak.

"I'm sorry, too"

You voice broke in a quiet groan.

"What are you talking about, Y/n? You didn't do an-"

"I'm sorry for the way I handled seeing you with somebody else. I know you, it feels like I have done more than this lifetime, and your hearty intentions to be kind to women. I know you wouldn't do anything to jeopardise our relationship, and I'm sorry I felt the need to avoid your apology. I was hurt, and too stuck in my own feelings to face this problem, because when I see you I see someone who I don't wish to lose"

"You will never lose me, okay?" Sanji promised, moving himself to sit beside you on the bed. He leaned forward over your body, his hand resting beside you, face inches from your own. "I'm not going anywhere, my love. I will be here for you through good and bad and nobody will ever come between us, no matter how many loose grapes are in their basket"

Sanji swiftly moved to you, sweeping you up in a soft kiss. His lips were always the perfect mould, curling against you in the most plump and soft folds, feeling somewhat like heaven. His taste remained the same, lingers of smoke dancing on his tongue as he deepened the kiss, working to build a familiar rise of butterflies in your stomach. As he pulled away, a soft pucker left behind a kind smile, relieved to have put the fight behind him and move forward; working towards getting you better.

"I love you, so much, never forget how much you mean to me and how much I value us." He looked up towards the IV bag, noting the drop in liquid from the bag, furrowing his brow. "Now if you will excuse me, I have a doctor to collect and a girlfriend to heal"

[resplendentoutfit]

Regency Fashion: Veils

Regency era portraits and fashion plates show many examples of how sheer veils, sometimes of lace, were worn as fashionable accessories. For mourning, Regency and Victorian women wore black semi-opaque scarves. And, of course, veils were and continue to be fashionable as bridal wear.

Here are some of my favorite examples of veils in portrait paintings of the Neoclassical/Regency era:

Gilbert Stuart (American, 1755-1828) • Lucinda Smith • 1809

Solely a beautiful lacework veil arranged atop the head, framing the curls on the forehead. No other head accessory here or in the portraits below.

Thomas Lawrence (British, 1769-1830) • Lady Manners • 1794 • Cleveland Museum of Art, Cleveland, Ohio

In the Lawrence portrait, the veil (or perhaps less of a veil and more of a long scrarf) appears to be worn wrapped around the head, leaving some space for curls to show through, and flowing down gracefully past the waist.

Right: John Wesley Jarvis (British, 1780-1839) • Anne Brown Dickey • c. 1807-10

(Veil pinned to the the head with a lovely, pearl-studded comb.)

Left: Elizabeth Vigée Le Brun (French, 1755-1842) • Luise von Mecklenburg-Strelitz, Queen of Prussia • 1802

(A lace-edged scarf of the same material as the dress sleeves is worn with a bandeau and wrapped around a bundle of curls, flowing down the back. There's enough length that the woman can wrap a section of fabric around her lower arm.)

Below are fashion plate examples of hat veils.

These veils are likely worn to shield the face from damaging sun and/or to allow the wearer a certain amount of privacy, especially to hide crying eyes due a death or broken love affair.

[gimmemore14]

I want to know about all your WIPs, cause I'm greedy that way, but if I have to limit it to one, then I'd love to hear more about the Pirate/navy Au omegaverse (Dark!brudick—> sladick).

Thanks for the asks!! I lumped in @hii-theree ‘s too so I can get two birds one stone :)

SO I love pirates, favorite childhood/teenage series was one called bloody jack where an orphan girl disguises herself as a boy and joins the navy as a cabin boy, it’s based loosely on the multitude of true stories of women cross dressing to fight in the navy army ect! On the plane I couldn’t help but think of a similar idea but Dick is an omega that disguises himself since theyre not allowed (but of course Bruce finds out…)

Here, have a snippet!

Dick swipes at the sweat streaming down his face as he climbs up the main mast with a heavy chest strapped to his back. There's nothing to shield his eyes from the harsh glare of the sun- his captain’s hat lost long ago during the battle- or the glint of it reflecting off of a looking glass on the Deathstroke’s quarterdeck.

That bastard is watching him.

Good.

Wally, as unhappy as he was with his captain, lowered the Navy ship’s colors for him before helping wrangle their angry bosun onto the rowboat and boarding as well. Dick will miss his first mate dearly, but a captain’s duty is to protect his crew first.

Damned be what the admiral says.

He waves the white flag from his perch in the rigging as his crew starts rowing away in the lifeboats. They won’t have any hope of escaping the pirates unless Captain Wilson takes his deal, but Dick is confident in his persuasiveness. He makes sure the treasure is in clear view as the pirate ship throws their lines over to moor the ships together.

As the pirates swarm the ship below, Dick surveys the poor state of it. The Nightwing’s foremast lays like an anchor in the water, snapped but still attached. They would have had to find a port quickly to fix all of the damage to the deck, but he already knows his beloved ship, commissioned for him, is doomed for destruction.

An imposing man steps easily across the divide of the ships, any doubt that this is the same captain who’s been hounding him for years is cut away as the man meets his eyes.

“I see even as a captain the pretty bird is more at home in the rigging. What an unusual surrender… you hiding like a treed mountain lion and your men abandoning their captain.”

“It’s purposeful,” Dick says, his chin tilted up proudly despite feeling so young in front of the grizzled pirate. “I’d like to propose a deal, my surrender is already guaranteed and not part of it but the safety of this chest and the information it contains is.”

He unstraps the chest and dangles it over the open water with one hand. The captain’s eye widens in concern for a split second before schooling itself into indifference.

“It’s well known that I have more treasure than I know what to do with,” Captain Wilson counters, seemingly amused. “Do you really think a singular treasure chest will stop me from aiming our canons at your crew?”

“No, but I heard a rumor your enchantment from the seawitch is nearing its end and I’m well aware you’re looking for a solution.” Dick pauses, thrilled and terrified that the captain’s full focus is now on him. “A solution I hold in my hand right now.”

Captain Wilson is silent for a beat, clearly weighing his options. If they shoot Dick, his body and the treasure will potentially both plunge into the sea, he’s confident it won’t go that way but he’s made his peace if it does.

When the gruff man shakes his head in what seems like amusement, Dick feels a spark of hope. “I see you’ve been keeping track of me as thoroughly as I have you. You’ve caught me in a good mood after capturing your ship and admittedly, I admire your boldness Grayson. So, what are your demands?”

“I know you as a man of your word and I trust you know me as a man of mine, I will happily hand over this chest for the guaranteed safety of my men.” Dick promises, holding the treasure more steadily with two hands now. “A navel port is not far from here, let them row away and the chest is yours.”

The man removes his hat to better meet Dick’s eye before asking, “You’d trust the word of a pirate?”

“No, not any pirate. Just yours.”

Captain Wilson nearly smiles, although his expression’s much too sinister to be called as such; all the same, he stops his men from aiming their muskets at the lifeboats. “Come down here then, little bird, we have a deal.”

The tension leaves Dick’s body, despite him knowing his own nightmare is just beginning. His men are safe, he’s done what he’s promised. He tells himself that it doesn’t matter what happens to him as long as his men make it to that port. As he slides down the rigging and onto the deck, Captain Wilson’s eye never leaves him, there’s an uncomfortable weight to it that makes him shiver.

Dick stands straight after placing the chest at the man’s feet. In this proximity, the captain’s alpha scent is overwhelming, eagerly proclaiming him the most dangerous man on the sea. Not for the first time, Dick is glad for the Navy’s insistence on blockers… he wouldn’t have been made captain without them.

“Now, what to do with you, little Captain.” The alpha contemplates, beginning to circle Dick like a shark. “Your safety was not a part of the deal.”

Dick fights to not swallow the lump in his throat. “I am aware.”

“If you throw yourself at my feet and beg,” Captain Wilson muses, stopping in front of him. “Perhaps I’ll consider not turning you into fish bait… you and this ship have lost me a lot of money and men.”

“I know,” Dick says, clenching his fist against the nervous tremors threatening to take over his body. “I am sorry for the men, but not for the money… and I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I won’t beg either.”

An incredulous laugh escapes Captain Wilson before his menacing eye turns calculating. “Perhaps a good keelhauling will remedy that.”

Dick can’t control his trembling any longer, images flashing of when Admiral Wayne ordered Roy keelhauled for getting too friendly with Dick. He came up half drowned, his back torn to pieces by the barnacles, and promising to keep his relationship with Dick professional. He nearly died of infection that week. The scarring and distance between them remains the same today.

“I surrendered, of course you can do what you would like,” he says around the lump in his throat. “But I would warn against it.”

Captain Wilson, seeing his fear and enjoying it, tilts his head curiously. “And why is that?”

Dick forces himself to meet the man’s eye and his voice to not shake. “I’m the only person I’ve come across that can read that map, I’d be more useful to you coherent than half dead.”

The captain contemplates his words before opening the chest himself and pulling out the journals. Dick takes practiced breaths to slow his heart rate, focusing only on his crew rowing further in the distance as the alpha skims through the books.

“You really can read these?”

“Yes.”

“How? Don’t lie to me.”

“It’s my mother and father’s tongue, taught to me in secret alongside English.” Dick replies, his heart aching at the memory of his parents’ whispered lessons.

The captain looks at him as if peering into his soul, Dick doesn’t try to hide even as he feels ripped open and laid bare. “Hmm, very well. Wintergreen, has everything of use been collected?”

The first mate answers affirmatively as the last of the water and food are packed across to the Deathstroke. Dick’s heart drops into his stomach as Captain Wilson binds his hands and leads him to the other ship.

The alpha keeps a steady hand on the back of his neck as the crew of the Deathstroke unmoor the ship and ready their starboard cannons. Dick bites his lip to keep it from trembling as they aim to sink his ship, his home, his legacy, his freedom.

“Shall I have someone take him to the brig, sir?” The captain’s first mate asks.

Dick never thought he’d be relieved at the prospect of a jail cell, anything to keep the Nightwing’s memory alive and whole in his head.

Captain Wilson looks at Dick, who tries to feign indifference. A smirk pulls up the side of his face, his blue eye just as soulless as his black eyepatch.

“Not yet, I believe this is something my little Captain needs to watch. On your command, Billy.”

Dick does not cry out like he wants to as the cannon balls rip through the Nightwing’s hull. His chest feels as if an elephant has settled onto it. The Nightwing was his home, the reason he was able to be free from Bruce’s domineering command most of the year. Without a ship, Dick knows when Admiral Wayne finds him he will be back on The Bat and kept under lock and key for allowing himself to be captured. In an effort not to sob his fingernails pierce his palms and blood drips sluggishly onto the deck below him.

Captain Wilson’s fingers dig possessively into his scruff as the smell of satisfaction oozes from the man. “Even while sinking she’s a beauty.” He comments lightly as the Nightwing’s bow finally succumbs to her watery grave.

“Shall I take him now, Captain?”

“Yes,” Wilson says while turning Dick to look at him.

He still hasn’t cried, his eyes glassy with furious tears and his jaw set indignantly. The alpha soaks in his expression almost hungrily, his thumb teasing the side of Dick’s scent blockers. It’s only then that a chord of actual terror strikes him.

“But not to the brig. Take him to my quarters, I’m not done with him yet.” Captain Wilson orders, lightly shoving him into the waiting hands of his first mate.

The man, Wintergreen, takes him into the captain’s cabin and ties him to the chair bolted down in front of the large desk. It’s only once the door closes and leaves him in the dimly lit cabin that he allows his tears to fall.

[mytheoristavenue]

OP Perv!Usopp x Reader 🍋 - Dirty

Summary: Usopp feels guilty for stealing your underwear, but not quite enough to stop.

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, perv!Usopp, fem!reader, voyeurism, masturbation, filthy nasty dirty talk

Usopp let go of a heavy sigh, pressing his back to the inside of his workshop door. He had to stop doing this, it was getting to be too risky. He was beginning to turn up empty with reasons to be exiting the women's quarters when you were entering. Obviously, he couldn't tell you the truth, that he'd been sifting through your dresser and laundry baskets to find the perfect slice of lace to satisfy his primal needs. It's a good thing he was good at lying.

He pushed off of the door, just glad that it was over and he could now relax. Tiredly, he dressed himself down to a comfortable degree, shedding whatever gear he had on that day, as well as his hat. With a deep breath, he unbuttoned his pants, and let his suspenders fall lax off his shoulders as he plopped down in his desk chair. Kicking it out a bit, he outstretched his legs, before letting a calloused hand slide beneath his hem.

He released a shaky sigh as his palm hugged his shaft, the first painful pump feeling divine against his intense level of sexual frustration. His other hand brought a fist full of aqua lace to his face as he inhaled your scent with a heavenly gasp. Usopp loved the way you smelled, even when you were coved in filth after a harsh battle. You always kept an air of roses petals and a heady natural pheromone that always drew him in.

He found himself longing for you was he began to pleasure himself, his mind clouded by every instance he could remember that you aroused him. There was the day that he'd stumbled onto you and Nami sunbathing on the deck, your modesty hardly protected by the skimpy bikini you were wearing. Or the time you'd gotten drunk during a party and decided his lap looked like the perfect chair. Or the time you'd save him from the Marines. The pair of you had gone into a portside town to get some supplies, and been ambushed. Usopp could remember so vividly, being laid out on the ground, a bloody mess, urging you to run, but instead you shielded his body with yours, looming over him with tears streaming down your face, telling him everything would be alright, while taking the force of the Marine's attacks. That moment would have been so romantic if you'd both been somewhere else, but your valor in the face of danger, your care for his well being gave Usopp and elation that he may never be able to shake.

"L-Love you..." you sighed out to you, pumping his length with the most comfortable pace he could keep. "So fuckin' much." his lewd whispers passed his lips, getting tangled in the floral lace of your underwear as he pressed in further against his cheek, wishing you were in them. "Gonna fuckin' cum for you, baby." he groaned through gritted teeth, feeling his climax coming into shore like a tsunami.

Suddenly, there was a startling knock at his door, which made his skin sizzle like static. "I-I'm super busy, come back later!" he choked, stuffing himself back into his pants, and redressing himself as quickly as possible.

"Please, Usopp! Open the door!" a shrill whine spilled into the air. He cursed the doctors name as he finally deemed himself fit to be seen, swinging the wooden door open with a very agitated:

"What?" Usopp huffed, slicking his hair hack as it fell into his vision.

"Me and (Y/N) were gonna take a bath, and she couldn't find her towel, so she sent me to ask to borrow yours!" Chopper chirped.

"A towel?" the man repeated, still trying to gather his bearings form the intense high he was just on the verge of. "Wait, why are you taking a bath with (Y/N)?"

"Yeah, she said her clothes keep turning up missing, so she can't find any." the reindeer confirmed. "And usually Robin gives me a bath but she asked (Y/N) to tonight because she's busy."

It was always to forget how young Chopper was with how mature he tended to act he it really counted. Usopp now remembered all the times he'd shared the bath with whom he saw as a younger brother before Robin came along.

"Makes sense," he commented, turning away to gather a few towels for you to use.

"Hey, isn't that her towel over there?" The sniper's face paled as the younger male pushed pasted him and ran up to the small cot in the corner, dragging a (F/C) hued towel off the top of the quilt.

"Uh, no. It's mine." he excused, perhaps too quickly. "You can't use that one. It's...special."

"Special how?" Chopper asked, cocking his head to the right side, eying his friend closely.

"I-It's...um," Usopp stalled, eyes darting around the room to find some reason. "It's made out of a special material for people with curly hair. It was really expensive, so I don't want anyone else using it."

"Oh," the deer accepted. "That makes sense. Sorry, I'll put it back for you."

"Thanks." the man sighed, turning to his shelf to find a towel that you were allowed to use, before he got a very bad idea. "Actually, I don't guess I have any clean. You go on ahead and take your bath, I'll go find one and bring it to you."

-----

Just as before, Usopp's back was pressed to the splintered wood wall of the Thousand Sunny's bathroom, preparing himself to peak though the crack to the wash room door. When he did so, the towel he was holding fell to the floor and he could feel his overalls tighten at the sight of you. You sat on the edge of the large tub, your back to him, with who he assumed to be Chopper sitting in front of you, lathering soap into the fur between his antlers.

Usopp gasped, tearing himself away. This was wrong, so very wrong. you were his friend, and Chopper was like his brother. He couldn't possibly watch this with the intent to satisfy himself. Well...it wouldn't be the deer that he was looking at, he reasoned. And if we was really quiet, and covered his tracks well, you'd never know, and what you didn't know couldn't hurt you, right?

Carefully, he pulling your panties out of the pocket he'd so hastily shoved them in earlier, and unbuttoned his pants, before silently sinking his hand back down.

Within minutes, be had reduced himself to a tearful mess, one hand bolted over his lips to stifle any uncontrollable noises, the other viscously jerking himself off the itchy lace of them doing wonders for him as he revenged them. "Fuck," he breathed, pulling his hand away from his airways, the need for oxygen becoming much more important than the need to keep quiet. "Wanna cum for you so fuckin' bad." he whispered to you, thankful you couldn't hear. "Just need to feed you all my goddamn cum, baby."

With every confession he uttered, Usopp felt closer to God. He was so drenched in the idea of you that he swore he could almost feel your lips wrapped around him, the scratch of the starched lace imitating your grazing teeth. "It's okay sweet girl," he cooed. "I know you're knew to this, but you're just so fuckin' good." In his mind, he had the high honor of receiving your first blowjob, and you hadn't quite learned to open your jaws wide enough to resist biting him a little, but it was okay, he liked it.

His eyes had long since plastered themselves to the back of his head, your sweet giggles from the other side of the door filling his ears and overwhelming him with lewd visions of you doing the most horrendous things to him. He could blink and see you riding his face, gazing down shyly at him, drool sliding down your chin at his ministrations, and when he closed his eyes again, you'd be in an entirely different position.

The last fantasy he was able to envision was him having you bent over his workbench, glancing at him over your shoulder as he held you be your hair, getting you drunk on his dick. Suddenly, his sight whitened, and he had to think quickly to keep himself form screaming your name and blowing his cover. With little other options, he shoved your panties in his jaws, finishing himself off without them, just in time to feel ropes shoot into his fist, accompanied by the trembling of his entire body. With a pant, your lace fell from his teeth.

Without realizing it, his exhaustion force him to rest against the door, pushing it ajar enough to startle you. "Usopp?" you called, causing his features to pale. "Did you find a towel?"

He stood there for a moment, a deer in headlights, before jumping back into working order. "Y-yeah, sorry I had to uh, go snatch one from Sanji." he excused, hiding his fist behind his back, doing his best not to squish what it contained. His other hand reached to the ground to pick up 'Sanji's' towel, before approaching you with it.

To his surprise, you met him half way, crawling out of the tub, and lunging forward to take it, covering what little you could with Chopper's small towel. "Thank you so much, Usopp, you're so sweet." you complimented, blowing a kiss his way, before sinking back into the pool.

The man remained frozen for a moment, before departing with an embarrassed squeal to wash his hands.

-----

After you and your companion were finished bathing, you ushered him to the sink in the bathroom to brush his teeth. Coming out of the doorway, you stepped on some type of fabric. Picking it up, your smile faded.

"Are these...my underwear?"

[cetaitlaverite]

Anything to Anywhere

Masters of the Air - Bucky Egan x OC

masterlist is here <3

02. A Great Story

As Stella was leaving the ATA hut, having completed her debriefing and picked up her next chit, Bucky Egan was dawdling in the grass. He had his flight suit on and his hat in his hand, squinting into the morning sunshine as he walked in idle circles.

Stella furrowed her eyebrows. She’d been under the impression that only the air executive of the inbound Yank section, the 100th Bomb Group, had arrived. Their planes certainly hadn’t. So what business did an air exec Yank with no crew, no plane, and no mission orders have wearing a flight suit?

Her confusion about the entire affair was the only thing propelling her feet towards him. She lifted a hand to shield her eyes from the sun as she slowed to a stop before him. She had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze and squinted to look up at him. “You off?”

Bucky mustered a small twist of his lips which might have been construed as a smile by someone more generous. “Waiting for my driver. Got my first mission today flying as observation pilot for the 389th.”

So he was deliberately seeking out combat flying with a different unit while he waited for his boys to arrive. Stella frowned. “Why?”

He scoffed a laugh. “Wanna get a taste of the action. How can I send my boys out there if I got no idea what I’m sending ‘em into?”

Stella hummed her acceptance of this, shifting her stance in the grass. She was trying to make herself appear taller, unsettled by how he towered over her. She wasn’t used to feeling quite so small - at five feet and eight inches she wasn’t the tallest woman she’d ever seen but she was far from the shortest, and besides, there was something about flying that drew short men like moths to a flame. Many of the airmen she’d met so far had been her height or shorter. She wasn’t best pleased that Bucky didn’t fit the role description set out in the script.

“Any advice?” Bucky asked next.

Stella gave a sour smile. “None. They don’t let me fly combat.”

“It’s dangerous,” Bucky acknowledged.

“So’s flying broken aircraft,” she fired back. “So’s landing a Lancaster Bomber with no hydraulics. But I’m not too frail and soft to do that.”

“Oh, I don’t think anyone’s thinking of you as frail, Finley,” Bucky replied, grinning.

“Most unfortunately, most men consider all women as frail,” Stella informed him bitterly. “I fly a bomber better than any male pilot I’ve ever seen take off from this base but they won’t let me cross the Channel. I fly so much better than my fellow male ATA pilots, in fact, that sometimes they pass their chits onto me. But god forbid anyone sends a woman into combat. God forbid you mighty men let anyone else have a turn.”

Bucky held his hands up in mock surrender. “Hey, I didn’t make the rules.”

“No,” Stella acknowledged, “but you benefit from them, which makes you my enemy by proxy.”

The distant buzzing of a jeep and the crunching of stones along the path interrupted their conversation. Both parties turned in the direction of the noise and frowned.

“Well,” Stella said decisively when the jeep came into sight, “good luck and all that.”

“Yeah,” Bucky replied distractedly, his eyes set firmly on the jeep coming to whisk him away. “Thanks.”

“Let me know what it’s like after, won’t you?”

This drew Bucky’s attention. When he looked down at her he found wide, earnest blue eyes staring up at him. He stared at her silently for a moment, waiting for the instant her face contorted back into a smirk, but it didn’t. She just waited patiently for his answer, gazing up at him like a puppy awaiting a treat.

“Yeah,” Bucky replied at length, still distracted but now for an entirely different reason. He shook his head to clear it and painted on a smirk. “Sure, I’ll tell you. But you gotta tell me your name.”

“You know my name.”

“Finley,” he complained, drawing out the vow sound at the end of her name. He tipped his head back and shut his eyes into the sunshine. “You’re killing me.”

Stella laughed. “If you tell me a good story about your very first mission, I’ll tell you my name. But it’s got to be a good story.”

“A good story,” Bucky echoed, grinning. “Sure. I’m sure I can do that.” He turned to her with a mischievous look in his eye. “What do I get for a great story?”

“An interesting fact about birds.”

Bucky barked a laugh. She was constantly surprising him. “I was thinking something more along the lines of a dance.”

Stella scoffed. “Absolutely not. I barely even know you.”

“You don’t gotta know a guy to dance with him!” Bucky protested.

Stella shrugged. “No dance for you, Major Egan. You can take the bird fact or you can leave it.” She began walking backwards away from him, heading off to prepare for her next ferry chit. She laughed as she watched him fight to find something to say, then tilted her head to the side and offered a smile before turning on her heel and picking up her pace.

Behind her, Bucky’s shoulders heaved as he let out an almighty sigh. “Fine!” he called after her just as his jeep pulled up beside him. “I’ll take the fact!”

“It costs a great story!” Stella reminded him over her shoulder.

She disappeared around the corner of a building before he could reply.

The next time Stella saw Bucky Egan he looked world-weary. Gone was his bright grin and that mischievous glint in his eyes. Instead, furrowed eyebrows and a frown slumped over the bar, his beer safe in the circle of his arms. There were still lingering red marks on his face from his oxygen mask, still what must have been blood crusting along his hairline.

Hesitating in the doorway to the officers’ club, Stella considered her options. On the one hand, she could go over and talk to him, but she didn’t really know him yet, and he didn’t seem like he wanted to talk - not that that had stopped him when the roles were reversed the other day. On the other hand, some of the other ATA pilots were sitting huddled around a table in the corner and if she went over now the chances were that Bucky wouldn’t even notice her.

Stella fiddled with her fingers as she weighed each option in her head, one of her feet tapping at the floor, before she decided to slip over to the table in the corner with her friends. It would be awkward, she decided, to go and sit with Major Egan.

Stepping in that direction, Stella adjusted her jacket and prepared to move as quickly as she could as inconspicuously as she could.

“Finley!” called Atley from behind the bar. “Beer?”

Stella cringed. She froze where she was, mid-step, like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. In her peripheral vision she watched as Bucky turned to look at her, that harsh furrow still in his brow.

“Um,” Stella hesitated.

Bucky raised a lazy hand. “On me,” he informed Atley, turning back to face the bar.

Stella gritted her teeth and swore under her breath. Now she had no choice but to go over and sit with him.

She ambled over, taking as long as she possibly could to give herself time to think of what to say, but when she got to the bar she came up empty.

Bucky didn’t look up at her, just kept on staring into his beer. Finally, Stella said, “You know what you look like?”

Humouring her, Bucky glanced up. “What do I look like?”

Stella smiled. “You look like a man in need of a fun bird fact.”

Mercifully, Bucky cracked a grin, but still he objected, “I didn’t tell you a good story.”

Stella shrugged. “I asked you for a great story in exchange for my fact, if you remember correctly, but I’m feeling generous.”

Bucky stared at her for a moment, considering her, before inclining his head in the direction of the bar stool beside his. As soon as she sat down Atley placed her beer in front of her, which Stella took a long draw of, before she turned to Bucky decisively. “Thank you for the beer. Do you want the fact?”

He’d been watching her the entire time, she realised when she met his eyes. She raised an eyebrow and he laughed, rolling his eyes. “Absolutely. Hit me with the fact.”

Stella sat up straight and smiled wide, pleased with this response. “A bird’s eyeballs take up over fifty percent of its head.” She stared at Bucky, smiling brightly, waiting for a response. After a moment, she added, “For comparison, a human’s eyeballs take up five percent.”

Bucky watched her for a moment longer while she sat there staring at him in anticipation of a reaction. Then he chuckled to himself. “That was a great fact, Finley. Thank you.”

“You are so very welcome.”

“What is it with you and birds anyway?” he asked around a sip of his beer.

Stella shrugged. “I like them.” She considered the foam at the top of her beer and then added, “I also like butterflies. And planes, obviously. Things that fly. But birds are my favourite.”

Bucky turned his body away from the bar so he could face her entirely on his stool. He rested one elbow on the bar and perched the other hand on his thigh. “What about penguins?” he asked, leaning towards her conspiratorially, as though he was sharing a secret.

“Penguins,” Stella echoed with furrowed eyebrows.

“Yeah,” Bucky replied easily. “Penguins. You say you like birds ‘cause they fly, so what about penguins? They don’t fly.”

Stella stared at him, waiting for his next comment, but he just kept on watching her, awaiting her answer. And, slowly, Stella started to smile. Penguins. He was right, there wasn’t a single type of penguin which could fly. Their incredible ability to swim, in fact, had cost them their ability to fly.

She shook her head, turning to her beer. “I like penguins,” she informed him.

“But they can’t fly,” Bucky said.

“I know they can’t.”

“Then why do you like them?”

“‘Cause they’re funny looking,” Stella said, arching a brow at him sidelong. “And I like the way they waddle. I met some penguins once - king penguins, in Edinburgh Zoo back when I was a little girl. Incidentally, Edinburgh Zoo was the first zoo in the world to successfully breed king penguins.”

“Which ones are king penguins?”

“The ones you’ll be imagining in your head,” Stella explained. “White on the front, black on the back, with bits of yellow and orange at the tops of their chests.”

“They your favourite type of penguin?”

“No. Rockhopper penguins are my favourite. Those are the ones with the yellow eyebrows.”

Bucky clicked his fingers in recognition. “I know the ones you’re talking about. Those little guys who’re always short and a little fat.”

Stella grinned. “Yes! Those ones! I think they’re funny.”

“What’s your favourite type of bird?”

“Hummingbirds,” she answered immediately.

“What’s cool about them?”

“They’re the only type of bird that can fly forward, backward, sideways, and upside-down. And they fly fast, up to sixty miles per hour. Their wings beat about seventy times per second during regular flight, but they can beat more than two hundred times per second when they’re diving.” She smiled, sitting up straighter on her stool. “If I was a bird, I’d be a hummingbird.”

Bucky was grinning. “And what type of bird would I be?”

Stella hummed as she mulled this over, tapping her pointer finger against her chin. She eyed him curiously, considered his size and the few characteristics of his he’d shown her so far, before deciding, “White bellbird.”

His eyes sparkled. “Why’s that?”

“They’re the loudest.”

Bucky barked a laugh. “Finley, you’re killing me here. What’s it gonna take for you to extend an olive branch?”

Stella shrugged, taking a casual sip of beer. “Not sure. I’ll have to get back to you on that.”

Some of the other ATA pilots must have spotted her, then, for they started calling her over, as if they thought she hadn’t seen them when she’d come in. Turning to them over her shoulder, she called back that she’d be over in a minute, then turned back to Bucky. “Those are my friends, who very much do exist, contrary to popular belief. You can come sit with us if you want.”

Bucky smiled to himself and turned back to the bar. “I was about to head off anyway.”

“To the pub?”

“Yeah.”

“What have they got that we don’t?” Stella challenged playfully.

Bucky rolled his eyes as he downed the rest of his beer and pushed himself to his feet. “Women who’ll tell me their names, for a start.”

“Oh, where’s the fun in that?” Stella replied with a scoff. She followed his lead and got to her feet, too, then picked up her beer and started to walk backwards in the direction of the table of ATA pilots. “Have fun.”

Bucky laughed. “Yeah, I sure will.”

With a shrug, Stella turned and sat down with her friends, and Bucky disappeared out the door.

“New American?” one of her fellow ATA pilots, Jessop, asked as she sat down. He had one eyebrow raised, his head tilted as he looked between Stella and the door Bucky had just left through.

“Indeed,” Stella confirmed. “A major. Just flew his first combat mission today in observation for some other American regiment at some other base.”

“He’s been sat over there nursing a beer ever since we came in about an hour ago,” Jessop replied, settling back into his chair but not releasing his raised eyebrow. “Wondered what was the matter with the fella.”

Stella brushed this away. “He’ll be fine. He’s gone off to chase skirts down the pub.”

“You reject him already then, Fin?” asked one of her bunkmates, Alice, from beside her.

Stella rolled her eyes, lifting her beer to her lips for a sip. “If I was interested in sacrificing my hard-earned reputation over a man I would’ve taken Jessop up on his offer back in 1940.”

“I knew you fancied me, Finley!” Jessop cheered.

Stella rolled her eyes. “You knew nothing, you lying bastard, now sit still and drink your beer before you wear it.”

The gathered pilots chatted idly about the chits they’d flown today. Stella had been sent to a nearby base which was short of ATA pilots of its own to ferry a damaged Spitfire to a repair depot and had then picked up a freshly repaired Bristol Blenheim to fly back. Her day had been long, she said, but not difficult. Nonetheless, she headed off to bed prematurely, seeking a warm shower before the other female ATA pilots in her hut stole all the hot water.

[villainsimpqueen]

The glows

Chapter Six.

Miles Quaritch x Cave Na'vi reader.

Amazing Art made by @nin3kyuu Shes also doing a giveaway on her instagram! Go check her out!!!

Grace did not hold over either of them. 

Eyesight captured each other's appearances abruptly as they stumbled from the opening door of the watchtower, the fluorescent lights burning one's eyes while aiding in the sight of another as they collided through the room. 

Quaritch backed himself away from the Na'vi woman as she hissed, baring her fangs, hands moved to shield her face as ears flexed out in directions. She lashed out those clawed hands ever so often and an array of clicking sounds left her lips causing the need to dive out of the way of office supplies flying in his direction.

“Easy! Easy!” He shouted at her his back colliding with the work desk as he watched her crouched down near the floor, she spoke through hisses and snarled words he did not mean as his own eyes moved around the room for a weapon. His gun being not insightful as the woman's snarls brought his attention back to her bracing her eyes behind those clawed hands. 

“Hold on..” 

“Just hold on.” 

He tried a new approach, as he kept to the walls watching her at all cost, not once removing her from his sight. His hand brushed across the wall until his finger pads hit the small rectangle he was aimlessly searching for, he lifted them and then pressed down with a soft click that not only he heard but the Na'vi woman as her ears flinched at the soft sound. 

Darkness surrounded them both now, as labored breathing bounced back and forth, the room only being alight by the pandora moon from the watchtowers window but being set aglow by the woman herself. 

He watched mesmerized as she moved her hands away from bright silver eyes, setting them palms down on the floor, her weight held by one of her knees as her other leg pushed out resting on the ball of her heel. Her eyes weren't the only alluring feature on her but her patterns circled and swirled onto her skin glowed brightly, freckled flecks shimmering with that illuminating glow, bright enough that it casted delicate light onto nearby furniture and clatter items on the floor near her. Hair pouring down from her head like a waterfall of swirls also seemed to have flecks of glowing sparkles as well as it came down to hide her chest. The only thing the woman wore was a lined skirt  with its material so thin and transparent her skin glowed from under it as brightly as the exposed skin of her arms. When realization dawned on him Quaritch coughed and tilted his head away. 

“See…easy..” He spoke out loud not for her but mostly for himself.

“Kare au e marama ki to arero.”  

The dawning of realization that neither could speak to each other fell on deafening silence and both found each other's eyes once more. 

Had he not been the one she believed Mother Ewyas guided her too, such invading and lingering eye contact would have gotten him a nasty lashing of her claws, Though Had he been one of her own, her own lingering gazes on his person would have resulted a lashing to her as well. 

His blue eyes landed on dark splotches that smeared over patches of her skin as her own gaze burned onto him and his clothes. 

Motor oil,plague disease covered her causing dirt leaves and other Debris to stick against her skin. 

Quaritch took a step and it caused her to bare those sharp fangs once again. 

“Easy.” He softly spoke only out of habit as he held his hands up to show he was of no harm as he kept taking slide steps towards the watch towers bathroom. 

silver star eyes clashing with sky blue eyes the entire time as he backed himself to the bathroom. Once inside he moved his eyes from the women to look around for a bowl only landing on a mining hard hat hanging on one of the hooks. He grabbed it and moved to the sink blindly reaching behind him to fill the hard hat with water as his eyes met hers once again. While she looked smaller crouched down, Quaritch knew she would tower him twice at full standing and no doubt three times as strong and he would rather not give her a reason to lunge at him.

She seemed to be on the same page as him, at least he believed as she barely removed her eyes from his only to swiftly glance around the watchtower's room to land back on him. Once he could feel the water overflowing from the hard hat with his palm he switched off the water bringing the hat around to the front of him water splashing against the sides and dripping slowly from micro holes in the hat but it held enough. Slowly leaving the bathroom he reached into his pants to pull a bandana from a pocket, the movement caused her to snarl at him once again.

“kei te aha koe?!”

“Easy..I aint gonna harm ya.” He pulled the cloth holding it up to her before moving it into the hard hat soaking it.  Before pulling it out, showing her the damp cloth.

“Ima give you this.” He pointed at her.

“So that you can get that oil off ya.” He brought the cloth to his arm and wiped it before putting it back into the makeshift bowl. 

She only stared at him and he only had to hope that she understood what he was trying to say as he bent down to place the dripping hat onto the floor and stood up using the toe of his boot to push it towards her. The water in it sloshing out as the hat glided towards her stopping before her with a puddle of water. 

“Shit…sorry..” 

But his words didn't matter as her hands grabbed the bandana which was so tiny in her hands when it was large on its own. She brought it to her skin soaking and washing away the oil and He turned his head to allow her some privacy.  Sounds of clicking came from her and a pleased noise of relief made him glance at her to see her dunking the cloth back into the hard hat and bringing the cloth back to wipe away the motor oil. 

How the woman got coated in it was a mystery to him but he could recognize relief on her alien features. 

His gaze moved to the now blackened water and he made a noise to gather her attention, silver eyes glittering on him once again.

“I'll get ya clean water.” He told her motioning for the bowl, watching how her eyes dipped down to stare at it before dropping the cloth back into the stained water. Her hand grabbed around the hat her fingers easily stretched against its length with ease only showing how easily it could be for her to crush a man's man's skull. With little force the hat was gliding back against the floor and sloshing dirty water over his boots as He crouched down to grab the bowl and take it back to the bathroom, dumping it in the toilet versus the sink and then filling it back up. He focused on trying to clean the bandana from the oil glancing at the mirror to watch her from his backside. Once filled he slid the hat back towards her watching as she this time caught it and picked it up moving as she sat along the floor to clean her legs, two tails fleeting behind her. He shifted his gaze from her, but he knew that she had to be part of that groups subspecies of navi he briefly encountered months ago. Questions came to him quickly.

Why was she in the mining operations?

What clan did she belong to? 

How did she get covered in oil?

What was she doing here? 

Does he report this? And if so, to whom? 

An oil stained and damped cloth smacked against the wall near his head making him jump and snap his head towards the woman who stared at him expectantly.

 “Ko wai koe?” She spoke purposely slowly to him, The Na'vi on her tongue so much thicker than the Omatikaya tongue. It had a slight richness that reminded him of the city unit he grew up with back on earth with his Pa and Momma before he joined the army and trandering city units. 

“Come again?” He asked, trying to hold back his frustration of not understanding a lick of what she was saying. 

She moved her hand to her chest. 

“Ko Tou Ingoaahau.” Her hands taped against her chest and then she moved them out towards him.

“Me to ingoa?”

“Oh I see.” He muttered as he moved, bringing a hand to his chest mimicking what she had done to introduce herself to him.

“Miles..Miles Quaritch.” 

Her ears flared outwards and he watched as they opened up like a moth's wings slightly fluttering at each  Syllable of his name. 

“Niles…rawritch.” 

The other mothers son bared his teeth at you, but it did not perceive as a threatening way or one in warning as he made a noise that was slightly higher pitch. You watched him carefully however, if he showed displays of aggression you will only show them back to him.

“Miles Quaritch.” He babbled in that strange strangle of noises of a language. 

“Niles. Orritck.” You repeated the words back to him watching how he shook his head

“okay..Okay let's work on one at a time yea…yea..” He blabbered out his strange sounds again before he moved his hands to his hips, one of his strange feet tapping on the ground.

“Mmmmm..” He started slowly and you watched his lips as they moved of the strange sounding words  “My llzs”

“Miles.” He announced it once again slower and you found his voice strange. 

“Miles..” You spoke slowly watching him bare his teeth more into a grin snapping his fingers and pointing at you.

“Yea, that's it..atta girl.”  as he babbled once more, seeming eager making you grace him with more of your teeth as well. 

“Now yours again.” The other mothers son, ‘miles’ spoke to you pointing his fingers at you. 

“‘ Y/n Aysara daughter of Eyvira.”’ You told him, watching him carefully as the grin fell. 

“...Gonna need a little more help there..” He babbled. 

“‘Y/n.”’ You told him slowly as he did with his name, It took him several more tries and you found yourself amused much like he had moments ago.

“Y/n..?” He said your name slowly as if it was stuck on the tip of his tongue rather than gliding off of it but it was close and you granted him a nod. 

You watched him nod back and glanced around the strange cave you found yourself in with him. He babbled out more of his language and you watched him sharply as he moved once again, staying away from you something you deem respectful, perhaps his culture was the same in cherishing one's vision. Seeing as he stayed at a distance from you even if the strange cave forced you both in each other's visual paths except for the small cubby he backed into to bring water to you. You watched as he moved warily towards his cave's strange decor and he moved to grab something that flashed with dull light in his hands. Though you could faintly see his hands through it, you listened to him babble some more.

“Let's see if this works okay, Y/n.?” 

You did not understand him but he had said your name again which made you perk your ears to him and tilt your head his way. 

“Can you understand me?” He babbled and you flinched as another male's voice started speaking, this time one of the people. How could that be? 

‘“Am i clear to you?’” 

You jolted your head to look around the cave for another you had not seen, but amongst the men's strange collection of things scattered around there was no one. 

“‘Who said that!?”’ You snapped turning to look at him. Another voice came suddenly. It was female and it babbled in his language.

“Who is speaking?!” 

‘Miles’ moved a hand up to you in that way he did to show he was of no threat. 

“Calm down, It's just us in here, I'm just speaking through this so we can understand each other.” He babbled and the thing he held flash before you heard the second male's voice.

‘’‘Settle low, Just us here, I speak through this so we know to each other.”’ 

You paused and looked at what he held in his hand before bringing your hand to your chest.

“‘You  hear me?”’ You asked him, feeling emotions bubbled up your chest and throat as the thing in his hand made its noises to him, you watched how his lips peeled back into a soft smile as he spoke into and with the thing he held.

“‘Yes, I hear you.”’ 

This wasn't how he thought his night shift would go. He had expected a night sitting alone messing around with his holo-tablet and  periodically walking around the Mining operations site. Not sitting across a destroyed room his back against a wall facing a Na'vi woman across from him hsing the tablet translation app to have a half assed conversation. Yet that was exactly what he was doing. The Na'vi, Y/n has made herself comfortable near the door sitting on her knees as they both relied on the tablet to speak butcherly to one another. 

He asked his questions and she answered, adding on her own.

When he had asked ‘how did you get here?’ She had responded with ‘Eywa showed me the way.’

‘Where do you come from?’ was met with the very vague and equally puzzling ‘The glows.’ 

“The glows?” He asked typing in her answers in a note document on his tablet. 

He listened to her thicken Na'vi tongue and the tablet relied on what was probably a glitched out response to what she said. 

“My home.” 

Miles simply typed into his tablet her answer.

Y/N 

Stange Na'vi subspecies, four ears, two queues, two tails, normal amount of arms and legs. 

Her stripes glow and cast dim lighting. 

silver's eye and light affects them ... .Blindness? Perhaps nocturnal like the Night Na'vi. 

Got into the operations site, got into the watchtower.

Region- The glows whatever the hell that is. 

“Why did you come here y/n?” He asked the question that was eating him and looked through the hologram screen at her. Watching how her face flashed emotions onto it as she looked at him with a look that was convinced, no that she believed what she was going to say. 

“Hei kimi i a koe” 

The tablet flashed her words in English as the Ai spoke the translated words.

“To find you.” 

He raised a brow and looked at her staring into those silver eyes with his one iced blue ones.

“Why?” 

Your ears twitched as the tablet translated what he spoke back to you and you shifted moving your hands as you spoke.

“Hei whakaako i a koe ki nga huarahi o te iwi penei i a Eywa e muhumuhu mai ana ki ahau.”

His eyes moved from hers back to the tablet reading the translation before the Ai had a chance to speak it.

‘To teach you the ways of the people like Eywa whispers to me’

You had left at dawn before the pandoras sun rose and he had watched you from the watchtowers window as you moved towards one of the mining machines finding one of the holes the drills had dugged ages ago deep into the pandora crust. There you had vanished and when he rushed down the steps and flashed a flashlight down the hole he was met with darkness. 

He had not asked you why him.. Out of everyone on the base, why it was him you felt so sure to have to teach but rather the question of how you were going to teach him. 

He only got a few words translated from the tablet before moving and pounded on the door with the rush words of ‘home’ coming across the screen and he hurried to open the door before you freaked out once more. 

But one sentence still burned into his head as he clocked out of his shift and headed back to his unit where Paz was still most likely asleep in their bed.

He should really go to Dr.Augustine about this, a new subspecies of Na'vi pops up and she and her research team would be better trained and prepared to make contact and communicate to them, to you. But the thought of telling the doctor did not sit right on his shoulders. 

You had come to him, even if he did not believe your whole Eywa guided you story, You found him, not the doctor. 

You had talked to him while skeptical at first like himself that skepticism turned into a rush of excitement as the barrier block between you two was lessened. 

He should follow RDA protocol and report this. Put it out of his hands and simply follow his job, but you had told him how you expected to teach him. 

‘Sneak you to the glows.’ 

And after seeing you vanished into an old drill hole, Quaritch had a rough idea now where The glows were. 

And he had a tendency to have a thrill of learning things the hard way rather than discovering things the easy way.

—

Translations

Kare au e marama ki to arero- I do not understand your language 

Ko wai Koe?- Who are you?

Ko tou ingoaahau (Ingoa ahau)- I am yourname. (Your name.) 

“me to ingoa?” - and your name?

Hei kimi i a koe- To find you

Hei whakaako i a koe ki nga huarahi o te iwi penei i a Eywa e muhumuhu mai ana ki ahau.- To teach you the ways of the people like Eywa whispers to me

[hestiashearthfire]

Can you tell me more about veiling? Or link any other places to learn? :)

Khaire, @siriuscitrus! Thanks for your ask; I've been putting off answering because this is such a big question. I've divided my answer into three parts. Keep in mind this is based on my personal experience, so other people may have different opinions.

What is Veiling?

Veiling, generally speaking, is the practice of covering one's head, and depending on tradition, one's hair, shoulders or face. (See a definition here.) Veiling can be practiced for many reasons; oftentimes this reason is religious, but veiling is also practiced culturally as a form of dress. In addition to whatever spiritual purpose a veil might have, a veil is also just a convenient way for many people to protect their hair, shield themselves from the sun, or express themselves aesthetically.

Men and women wear veils, and veiling has been a part of many cultures throughout history. Different cultures have different traditions, terms, and styles of veiling. While many cultures are open to sharing their veiling traditions, some styles of veiling are closed practices with immense cultural meaning, and it's important to be respectful when studying veiling as a practice. Though veiling is ubiquitous throughout places and times, not every style of veiling is appropriate for everyone.

Although veiling typically involves cloth of some kind, such as a scarf or shawl, veils do not have to fully cover the hair, or the neck and shoulders, and veiling can be practiced using accessories such as hats, headbands, bandannas, or clips. The style of veiling chosen by the wearer is a matter of personal comfort, social expectations, or religious norms, and varies widely from place to place.

Why Do People Veil?

As stated above, veiling can be practiced for many reasons, including religious, cultural, personal, practical or aesthetic reasons. For example, in Islam, veiling (termed hijab) is practiced as a form of religious modesty. Other religions, such as Christianity and Judaism, may also have religious reasons for veiling.

Still more people veil as an expression of culture, or simply as a personal preference. Since my reasons for veiling are primarily religious, I can't speak to cultural reasons, but suffice to say that wearing a veil, while certainly an indicator of faith in many cases, is not always a religious matter. Many pagans who practice magic, for example, view veiling as a practical method of protecting one's energy, rather than a religious expression. Sometimes, veiling can be both religious and practical; it is up to the wearer to determine their reasons for veiling.

I veil out of devotion to Hestia, Hera, and Aphrodite. On a less religious note, I simply like the way my hair looks covered, and I enjoy styling my scarves to match my outfits. Veiling makes me feel beautiful and confident, and serves as a physical reminder of the Gods' presence in my life.

How Do People Veil?

Veiling styles are as varied as the cultures from which they originate. For example, I learned to veil from a Jewish community, and so my veils often look like this. In other religions and cultures, more full-coverage styles like this or this, or even full-body veiling might be the style.

It is my understanding that Jewish veiling styles are not closed, and are open for everyone to wear respectfully. More full-coverage styles are also open when worn respectfully; however, one who is not Muslim should not call this practice hijab. Just as it is up to the wearer to determine their reasons for veiling, it is up to the wearer to determine what style of veiling suits them based on their preferences. Although one's religion can impose certain standards, where one lives, works, or worships will ultimately determine what a veil looks like to them.

As an attorney, for example, I have to ensure my veils look professional and are suitable for a conservative environment. Personally, I prefer more turban-like styles, although I am experimenting with more full-coverage styles currently. Veils are incredibly personal to the wearer, and a knit hat may be as precious to one person as a scarf is to another.

Rules surrounding veiling will vary based on religion and culture. As a Hellenic Polytheist, I am not required to veil at all, but as a practice, this was something I carried over from Catholicism. I choose to veil around all but close family and friends. However, in other cultures, one may be required to veil after certain milestones like puberty or marriage, or around certain people, or at times of worship. It is an unfortunate reality in many places that veiling is either enforced or forbidden, and I try to be mindful of that in my practice.

For practical how-to on veiling, the internet is your friend. Sites like YouTube, TikTok, and Instagram all have visual examples and tutorials for you to follow. Wrapunzel is one such site with many tutorials. The Haute Take, Haute Hijab's blog, also has great style advice for full-coverage styles. (I'm not getting paid if you click on these links. I am just a happy customer recommending both.)

Please understand that I am not an expert; I have tried to keep this post general to avoid misinformation, but I welcome any corrections or additional information for clarification! I hope this post was helpful to you, and I wish you the best in your veiling journey.

Gods bless you always!

[shonpota]

If you can donate non money stuffs to Palestine, you can donate:

Clothes:

Desert-coloured clothes: light brown to gray range. This can help civilians to blend into surrounding and less likely genocided.

Veil, or fabric with light brown to gray colour. It helps them blend from above too.

DON'T DONATE BRIGHT OR CATCHY COLOURS. IT WILL MAKE THEM EASILY VISIBLE.

Bags, backpack especially. They can carry their belongings and shield their head.

Face mask made of fabric or not. Preferred to have khaki, light brown, grayish brown.

Gloves and socks for winter. We are nearing winter now.

Underwears to keep them hygienic

Aluminium foil blanket to keep them warm and to hide their body temperature from night/thermal vision.

Sunglasses to prevent Israeli drones detect their faces!

Face cover cloth or buff (still desert colored)

Hat! Wider the better! We need to keep them from sweatin too much so they won't get dehydrated. It hopefully make IOF miss their bullets.

Hazmat suit to combat against white phosphorus and any poisons weapon that's breathable and absorbed by skin

Miscellaneous:

Gas mask + filters

Tough stainless steel food and drink containers

Helmet that cover whole head

Arms and legs protector

Antiseptic

Water filters

Medications in demands

First Aid Kit

Pads for women

Milk for babies

Oxygen cans

Vitamins

Tool to sharpen rocks (idk what it is called)! Since Palestinian citizens mainly rely on rocks for defense, might as well make it sharp and hope it will hit IOF arteries or joints.

Fire blankets

Shovel to quickly dig out any rubbles and respectably bury the martyrs! Everyone in Palestine needs shovels.

Know any donation organization? Recommend these lists on them. Any information will always help.

[fistfuloftarenths]

isn't it a marvel

Pairing: Rugan x AFAB!Tav Rating: G Wordcount: 1400 Genre: Self-indulgence Summary: Tav, Rugan, and Olly after the end of the world has been averted, sitting in a tavern in Waterdeep. Tav causes minor trouble, as is her wont. AO3 link here

Faerun never stayed saved. Not for her, not for anyone. Not even Elminster. On this fine spring afternoon, however, it seemed to have slowed its hurtling towards certain destruction to a near-halt. Tav had some hours to idle away, and meant to make the most of her reprieve. 

The tavern reminded her of the Singing Lute, back in the Gate. Small, cantilevered over the water, and crawling with bards. None of them were familiar to Tav, and yet the conversations she could overhear were the same as ever - someone had a new lute, someone else had finally brought down the hammered dulcimer they’d been talking about for weeks, someone owed someone else money and didn’t have it, someone had a new hat, and - bards being bards -  there was that one table who were convinced of their own natural superiority, and were talking too loud and flinging themselves about in dramatic poses.

Tav and her companions were tucked in a corner, their backs comfortable against the sea wall. Their choice of table is habitual now, much like the way she always checks for other exits. A trellis covered with vines shelters them from the sun and lines of sight, and Rugan has a shield up, just in case. Her chair was tipped back, one booted foot on the railing to keep her balance, and she was quietly running through fingerpicking exercises on her new lute. Yesterday Gale had reinforced it with magic, while Tav paced around his room in an excess of nervous energy. Just because her wizard friend was a genius didn’t mean he understood the importance of tuning, or resonance, and Tav had had to stop herself flinching every time a spell took and sank into the marquetry. 

His calculations had been right, and Tav was delighted with the results. The instrument ought to survive the indignities of the road with aplomb. Tucked away in a pouch she also had a fingerpick ring for the first knuckle of her thumb. This was enchanted to amplify the volume of her lute, but Rugan had taken one look at it and approved of it as a way to take someone’s eye out. 

He was sitting next to her, talking to Olly over a pint of something bitter. Her Zhent looked much the same as he did when she met him. Less blood. His hair wasn’t as grey as it should be, and he’d stopped complaining about his knees a couple of winters ago. Tav had her suspicions about this, but she was reluctant to look a gift Zhent in the mouth, not when she wanted it to keep kissing her for decades yet. In her opinion the gods owed her for that whole tadpole business - still owe her, really. Turned out that getting out of the world-saving business was harder than she’d thought.

Olly looked well, crow-black pulled back in a glossy ponytail and no longer hiding behind his fringe. She wasn’t entirely sure what he did these days, and hadn’t asked, since what she doesn’t know can’t be winkled out of her with magic or torture or both. Regardless, smiles were coming easily on his face, and he was carrying at least two items that were positively seething with enchantment. Whoever he was running with now was much better for him than the Gate crew ever was. Present company excluded.

Tav seized upon a lull in the conversation. “I learned a new one,” she said to Olly, and strummed a little louder so the tune would carry over to him. Rugan, recognising it, sighed heavily. Tav ignored him. “Comes from Moonshae, or so they told me.”

“They're far from staid after a raid,

These men of Zhentil Keep.

They kill off all the women,

For they much prefer the sheep.

The men don't eat their ill-got treat.

Not one of them's a glutton.

So isn't it a marvel

That they always smell of mutton?

Olly laughed. “They used to call us sheepfuckers at home. Busted some heads about it as a boy. Or tried to.” 

“Met a man from Ashabenford who claimed goats were a better lay than sheep,” Rugan added. “Said they were friskier.” As with most of Rugan’s stories, it was impossible to tell if he was lying. It seemed plausible, and yet -

He hadn’t taken the song with that much equanimity when Tav had first learned it, so much so that Tav had taken perverse delight in whistling the melody at odd times and places and waiting until the scowl lowered itself onto his face. Things had come to a head over Tav's extended digression about whether it would be ethical for Rugan to eat mutton stew. They had been very late starting on the road the following morning. 

Unfortunately, Tav’s lapse into fond memories was interrupted. Someone from one of the closer tables had come over, and was looking uncomfortably at her. 

“Excuse me,” said the interlocutor, a young human girl in peacock velvet and a scarlet feather in her cap, “but you might want to be careful where you play that. The Black Network has eyes and blades everywhere.” 

“Do you mean to say there might be Zhentarim here? Listening to me?” Tav asked, all wide-eyed innocence and absolutely not looking anywhere near the man next to her.

“Davil Starsong’s played on that very stage,” said the girl pointing, where the hammered dulcimer was being drowned out by the table of posturing assholes. A pity, because Tav would have liked to hear it. It’s not the sort of instrument she came across often on the road.

“Hmmm,” said Tav, noncommittally, and strummed through the first few bars again.  The girl looked pleadingly at Rugan, being the oldest and presumably the wisest of their little group. 

“Shouldn’t think she’s got much to fear from the Zhents, lass,” he rumbled, and slid a hand onto Tav’s thigh. Tav relented - the girl didn’t know, and the warning was kindly meant.

“I’ll keep it in mind,” she said. “But while you’re here - who are that group over there? With the purple hat and the moustache? The loud ones?”

“Them,” said the girl, screwing up her face with disgust. “That’s Arlon. His aunt’s a guildmaster, and his uncle married up, and they’ve got a lock on half the good parties.” 

Tav nodded. There was good money to be made there, and if they liked you they’d ask for you again. Most of the time the kitchen staff would feed you leftovers, too, and damn if the rich didn’t eat well. If you could get your foot in the door. If.

“He’s not even that good,” continued the girl. “Says he likes Volo, because everyone knows them and it’s easy.”

Tav shot bolt up right anyway, outraged. “Volo’s not even a bard,” she spat, and Rugan chuckled into his beer.

“Exactly!” said the girl. “He’s a -”

“Lying hack of a wizard,” finished Tav, vengefully. She glared at Arlon. “Something should be done.” Rugan’s hand tightened on the inside of her thigh. Careful.

“Er,” the girl said, somewhat doubtfully. Her eyes flicker across to Olly, who grinned back at her. Gods, he’s grown up.

“I’m not going to burn down your local,” Tav said. “Just…dampen the noise. Promise.”

“Really?” The girl’s eyes shone.

“You can’t,” said Tav. “I can, and I’m leaving town tomorrow. Consider it a thank you for the warning.” 

“Oh. All right.”

“You should go sit down. Don’t want to be near me when it happens.” 

Tav tapped a soft rhythm onto the body of her lute, summoning water, and dropped it onto Arlon and his clique. Shrieks of outrage and surprise echoed across the bay, and then most of the bar was laughing, and laughing hard. Water’s heavier than people think, but Tav has judged it nicely; they’re drenched to the skin and will have to sadly squelch all their way home, but no one is physically injured. Gods, they look ridiculous, careful coiffeuses turned to lank rat’s tails on their necks. Even Arlon’s moustache is drooping. They barely manage to flounce as they leave.

“Nice work,” said Rugan, into her ear, in that tone, in that voice. Deliberately, Tav guesses; he knows the effect that has on her. He slid his hand further up her thigh, and Tav shot him a sideways glare. Damn him.  Damn her susceptibility to him.

Emboldened, the hammered dulcimer player launched into a frottole, and began to sing.