#like precocious little leaves

[sleepire]

They are extremely precious to me

For Valentine's day!!! :) 🩷

[sublimitymp3]

Do you, brother?

Pairing ✵ Aegon Targaryen/Younger sister!reader

Warnings ✵ Hotd season 2 spoilers, incest, swearing, smut (Dub-con, p in v, fingering, choking, slight breeding kink), mentions of death, mentions of child loss, descriptions of birth, and heavy themes

Word count ✵ 2.6k

Summary ✵ The death of your son leaves behind a shadow upon everything, and after an overwhelming funeral procession for him, your evasive brother finally comes to you in the night.

Jaehaerys

Your little boy. Jae-hae-rys. The syllables roll off your tongue in a smooth manner, as they always have done. Sweet Jaehaerys. The very thought of the name conjures memories in your mind of the day you labored him and his twin into the world, screaming and writhing in pain as you felt as though you were being torn apart at the seams. He was a small, splotchy babe, who exited you covered in blood and wailing and squirming in the maester's arms. But even through your delirium and searing pain, you knew then what love was.

He was a precocious boy, eager to learn and to explore the world. "He has the makings of a very fine king," you recall your grandfather telling you once. The thought of Jaehaerys on that throne made your stomach feel uneasy, and the words loomed over you, lingering in the back of your mind and refusing to leave.

Even now it still lingers.

The once dreadful notion has been reduced to a silly daydream, for Jaehaerys will never be king. He will never grow, never explore the world, never ride his dragon, and you will never cradle him in your arms again.

It feels wrong to carry on. It feels wrong to do much of anything with the knowledge that your sweet Jaehaerys will exist only in memory now. Your mother tries to console you, to hug you in her cold arms, but you do not want her now. After all, what does she know about losing a child? The funeral procession your grandfather insisted on felt even more wrong than anything else.

Your son, the martyr.

Hundreds of the smallfolk clambered over each other to catch a glimpse of your little boy, and you. Your tears bought their sympathy and a new resentment for Rhaenyra, but it mattered little to you. They had sewn his head back on, you saw. It was an ugly sight, where black thread met severed skin.

Jaehaerys

How you longed to climb over to the cart carrying his body just so you could hold your boy one last time, but your mother's steadying and sobering grip on your knee kept you from doing so. "Deepest sympathies, my queen!" "Curse Rhaenyra!" "We love you, our queen!" Their shouts of support felt more like a ringing in your ear than anything. You didn't want this. You only wanted everything to be quiet.

You had a headache and felt nothing but exhaustion, and you couldn't even bring yourself to weep any longer. It was as if you were wrung dry. You cursed under your breath at the seemingly endless flights of stairs in the Red Keep, for all you wanted to do was to go and lay in bed. But then you saw him. First, you saw his hair, hair much like yours, only it was messily cropped short. Next was his eyes, violet in color and mirrors of your own. The scowl upon his handsome face, well, you didn't care for it, but you couldn't pry your eyes away. You found yourselves gawking at each other on the stairwell, and only then did you remember how much Jaehaerys looked like Aegon.

"Your grace, I-" Is all you can say before Aegon quickly turns away from you and hurries down the steps. You stand there, watching as the head of silver hair swiftly disappears from your line of sight. You snap your mouth close, pressing your lips into a firm line and continuing up the stairs. 'Foolish girl, when has he ever confronted anything in his life?' you cannot help but think.

You don't see your husband for around two weeks. Fleeting glimpses in the hallways, mentions of him from your mother, and murmurs about the king from the courtiers are all you have of him during that time.

As you prepare yourself for bed, you try to banish all thoughts of him from your mind to get some semblance of much-needed sleep. The nights seemed so long and torturous now, and yet you hardly could find sleep no matter what you did. Tonight was the first night in what seemed like centuries that you finally felt tired, and you wasted no time settling into bed to drift into a slumber.

You dream odd things, nonsensical things you'll forget when you wake, mostly. And even more odd, you begin to dream of Aegon. Of his strangely soft hands on you, of him pushing your nightdress up to your hips, and of him maneuvering you onto your back. It feels real, but you know it isn't. He won't come near you, no, not now. But even your mind begins to suggest otherwise.

With an irritated whine, you feel yourself being pulled from your sleep. It is only when you open your eyes to curse at what you assumed was a maid disturbing you, that your assumptions are quickly proven wrong.

Aegon is on top of you, staring unblinkingly into your eyes. Salty, hot tears drip from him onto your face, and his hand clamps down over your mouth before you can question him. You must make a face unwittingly, for he begins to speak,

"Shh, shh, it's alright, it's just me...just me," Aegon soothes, and you smell the wine on his warm breath. He's drunk. Or at the very least near drunk. "I-I am sorry, sorry for you, sorry for our boy. Oh, my poor son," his words are ever so slightly slurred, and he retracts himself to sit on the edge of the bed and weep in his drunken stupor.

You sit up, a bit startled to discover your nightgown bunched up by your hips. Your smallclothes were even pulled down a bit, but not fully. You realize now what he was attempting to do, and you can only sit in a tense silence with him. "He was my son too, you know," he mumbles like a petulant child, once he catches a glimpse of your resentful face.

"I grieve him just as much as you, mayhaps even more. He was my heir, my only heir," his words linger in the stagnant air, not sitting well with you. His gaze unnerves you even more, staring at you expectantly. The implications in his voice are clear to you; he means to beget another heir.

"Take another wife then, I am tired," The brazen words escape you (before you can think) in a whisper, and you lay back down, wasting no time to turn your back to him. "I don't want to again, I can't again. No more, Aegon." and you close your eyes, letting your tears roll down the side of the face.

You refuse to subject yourself to it all over again. To the aches, the uncomfortable swell of your belly, and the terrible pain birth brought. You know what it will all end in. It's a deep knowledge that has burrowed itself between your bones, embedded itself in your brain, and wrapped around your heart.

The Stranger will come for you all, surely.

The bed dips again as he shifts himself closer to you, and he grabs your shoulder in a bruising grip to turn you onto your back. His face gets so close to yours that the tip of his nose nudges your own, and you feel his warm breath fanning against your lips.

"I wasn't asking what you thought of it. You're my wife, my little sister. You were born for me to have. A king needs an heir, surely you understand that? You're not a stupid girl," he brushes his thumb against your bottom lip, mockingly, almost.

He manages to wedge himself between your thighs, and you feel his wandering fingers pull down your smallclothes. "Aegon-" "Don't say a word, don't say a damn thing," he interrupts, irritated by your unwilling mood. "Wouldn't it be nice to have another little babe to rock in your arms? Hm? We'll make more, yes? Enough to fill this fucking castle," Aegon grunts, pushing his fingers past your folds. A whine involuntarily escapes you at the invasive feeling, and even more so as he pumps his fingers in and out.

In and out, in and out, in and out.

You feel your body give into his ministrations and get wet. 'Betrayal,' you think. A pleased hum escapes from him as you leak onto his fingers, and you feel your cheeks burn with shame. This isn't right. No, no after what has happened.

"You weep down here too, did you know, sweet sister?" He mumbles, pulling his fingers out of you just to drag them along your dripping folds. A shiver runs up your spine at his actions, forcing you to bite your tongue to muffle any noises. You don't want him to hear you. You don't want to give him that satisfaction.

He fully retracts his fingers, and you know what is next. He undresses himself quickly, untying his breeches and tunic with a practiced speed before pulling your nightdress off of you, leaving you vulnerable and cold. He chuckles at your little shivers and the way you wrap your arms around yourself protectively. "Shh, do not worry, you'll be warm soon enough," he laughs as if this is a lighthearted moment between two lovers. Your stomach churns slightly.

"You're so beautiful, you know. I've never thought otherwise. So pretty like this, all for me," he whispers against the shell of your ear as he lines himself up with your cunt.

The burning stretch of the intrusion is what you feel first. It has been long since he bedded you, and your body had forgotten the feel of him. "F-Fuck, how are you so tight? Like you're trying to squeeze me to death," he groans against your neck, before suckling bruises into your soft skin. He bottoms out completely, and you feel his tip brushing against your sweet spot.

It's overwhelming for you. It's too much. You close your eyes and let your mind drift to happier days. Days long before you called Aegon husband, days when you would play with your sister by your mother's skirts. Days when the most daunting task was getting out of bed or letting the maids bathe you. It almost brings a smile to your face. Almost.

Your blissful daydreams and nostalgia are interrupted by Aegon gently slapping your cheek repeatedly, rudely reminding you of where you are now. "Hey, hello, where are you? Look at me, for fucks sake," he grumbles, slowing his thrusts you only now are noticing. He grips your face in his hands, forcing you to stare into his familiar violet eyes.

It's cruel to have to stare into your own eyes while this happens, you think.

"Don't do that again. Think of me," he whispers against your lips, his voice a bit shaky and heavy with lust. "Only me, and this."

His thrusts resume, and his lips are soon pressed against yours. He kisses you with a greedy, bruising force as if he's trying to devour you whole.

"Messy girl," he muses as he wipes drool off your chin with his thumb, and the action is oddly tender to you. The tip of his cock keeps brushing against your sweet spot, making your mind turn to mush and your legs turn to jelly.

You hate how Aegon has this talent to make your resolve slip with only a few touches and kisses. You could be upset with him for weeks on end, and yet all he had to do was hold you down and you'd soon forget whatever grievance you held against him.

"A-Aegon, brother, please-" you whine, even more so as he maneuvers your knees to press against your chest. He holds you down like this and the new angle allows him to push further into you. The sound of skin against skin reverberates in your chambers around you as he drives into you at a faster pace.

"Stay still, stay still. Quit squirming, don't you trust me, sweet girl?" He huffed, still irked by your light resistance. His hand reaches back down to your weeping cunt, and his thumb rubs gentle circles into your bud. The added stimulation makes you cry out with overwhelming pleasure, and you feel like your very bones are gyrating.

"There we go," he smirks, dragging out his words. He's found the combination that makes you fall apart around him and he finds it satisfying. "You like that, don't you? 'Course you do, sweet girl. You were made for me, made to take my cock and bear my children. You were born to be mine. Nothing more, nothing less," He groans, his own peak beginning to build up.

His words ignite a fire in your belly, and it feels so wrong. His words are mocking, demeaning even, and on any other given day and situation you'd have retorted and isolated yourself from him until you calmed down. But this night was not simply any other night. His words and his movements bring you closer and closer to the edge, and the coil in your belly tightens up as it prepares to snap.

"Aegon, gods, keep going, please don't stop-" you moan, lost now in the bliss of it all. You selfishly buck your hips against his, desperate for your own impending release.

"I got you, pretty girl. Go on, let go for me, sweet sister," and with his words, the tightly wound coil in you snaps. It is a white-hot pleasure that wracks through your body, and you feel as though you are floating.

You come to when you feel Aegon increasing the pace of his already rough thrusts. He is close, you can tell. You have no strength to tell him to pull out, to beg him not to finish inside. He's fucked you too good for that. Maybe that was his plan after all, you think.

"F-Fuck, I'm so close, sweetling. I'll fill you up, make sure you're nice and full with my seed. In nine moons time, we'll have another little boy, hm? Another silver-haired beauty," he pants, before his grip that still pushes your knees against your chest tightens. He brings one hand to squeeze around your throat, and you feel his fingers dig into the sides of your neck. There will be a bruise there in the morning, no doubt.

His movements are rough and fast as he chases his release, and soon, his steady pace falters and his hips stutter to a halt. "Gods be good," he moans, slumping over to bury his face into the crook of your neck. Spurts of his warm and sticky seed coat your velvety walls, a familiar feeling. Surely you will be with child by the next month.

Exhaustion is what you feel. Exhaustion, and a pang of sadness in your heart. Another babe you will have to labor into the world, another pawn in this war. Another victim of this needless bloodshed, as brother and sister tear each other apart.

Aegon gently kisses your lips, rubbing your stomach with his hand, no doubt imagining you are pregnant already. "I love you, I really do." He whispers, holding you close and breaking you from those thoughts of impending doom.

Violet eyes meet violet eyes, and you gaze upon his features that are not dissimilar to your own. The very same blood that runs through you, runs through him. The same blood that ran through your son, you think. You do not know what to make of his drunken declaration, and it is like your body speaks for you then;

"Do you, brother?"

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[fumekara]

IMAGINE GOJO'S SON IMITATING HIM IN EVERYTHING HE DOES

Small scenario based on my thoughts about DadGojo 

Gojo Satoru x Fem reader 

TW: SFW, just fluff (Gojo pinches the reader, but not in a sexual way), your son's name is Ame, but you can imagine it however you like. 

WC: 500

Your son had developed a habit as he grew up: that of imitating Satoru in everything he did. 

It wasn't enough that the two were identical in appearance, with the same pale skin, blue eyes and thick, white hair. If not for the difference in height, one could have mistaken them for the same person. He's like a little doppelganger. 

At only three years old, your son was chasing and imitating his father's actions and gestures as faithfully as possible for a child of his age, with clumsy, wobbly movements that made you smile every time you watched them interact with each other. You didn't know how such a small child could be so precocious and active, but this was just confirmation that Ame was indeed his father's son. 

Ever since Ame was born, Satoru had always behaved like a model father, completely in love with his son, treating him with love to the point of making him a 'daddy's boy', spoiling him in every way possible, even without your knowledge, when you had forbidden it because you feared he would become too spoiled. 

But as your son slowly began to utter his first words and take his first steps, he developed his personality accordingly. Obviously this did not go unnoticed by your husband, who exploited this habit to his liking.

You once caught them during one of their playful moments while you were in the kitchen cleaning the table. You saw your husband walking around the kitchen smiling as usual and Ame following him laughing in her high-pitched voice. For a moment you caught a glimpse of the older man giving you a sly look before walking behind you, an action that made you raise an eyebrow wondering what he was planning to do. 

But before you could realize it, you felt a pinch on your thigh that made you turn towards the culprit behind you. 

"Gojo Satoru!" you scolded him in a tone that was astonished, but also slightly amused at his audacity. Satoru said nothing and merely laughed and winked at you as he circled the table again. That's when you heard a "mama" coming from Ame's little voice accompanied by his little hand hitting you in the same spot where Satoru had pinched you and then continuing to follow your husband, leaving you speechless.  

You laughed at what had just happened and decided to go along with them and play along.

"Ouch, that hurts" you feigned dramatically as you rubbed your thigh. 

Satoru smiled at you and approached you again wrapping you in a hug "oh no poor mommy, I'm so sorry" he said in the same tone you had used before planting a series of kisses on your face and then a sweet kiss on your lips.

Ame, who had witnessed the scene, lost no time in reaching her parents. "Mama, Mama kisses" he said loudly, coming towards you and jerking his little arms to be picked up. Satoru broke away from you and picked up his son "Come here, buddy" and pulled him close to you, who immediately gave you a series of kisses on the cheek affectionately. At the end of that imitation you and Satoru hugged Ame and kissed him on one cheek at the same time, making him laugh. 

Yes, Ame really was his father's son.

[bunnwich]

Gifts (Leona Kingscholar)🧡

Leona muses on the gift you leave him for Valentine's Day. (Based on the official merch twst 2024 Valentine gift messages)

Characters: Leona Kingscholar, Yuu/MC!Reader (Can be framed as platonic or romantic)

Words: 936 words, Leona's POV

Notes: Wanted to challenge myself to do something short and sweet in a few hours and was inspired to improve upon yet another dry official Leona gift message response.

--

Gifts.

They came easy over the years, like plucking an oversweet tart from a dessert tray. He was disliked, feared even, but lucky for him easy on the eyes — and still a prince to occasionally bow and scrape to. So many folks over the years were eager to oblige him and follow the traditions of the Sunset Savanna. Idolize the royals; the divine oligarchy. He was simply “lucky” enough to be born under that umbrella. That’s all.

Those gifts and attention fed him for a while, but if he was being honest, some part of him always remained hungry. 

After all, shiny trinkets were nothing like a dusty old book or the heady cedar smell of a well-used chess set. What was the value of pretty baubles to sit on shelves of his empty room or clothes that cost more than some folks' houses?

Pillars of sand.

Was it so damn pathetic and vapid to want something not given by his family's twisted obligations or plucked from the hands of a quivering servant?  No games. No more ulterior motives. 

Wishful thinking, maybe or a childish habit that he had dumped in the trash, like all those boxes of sweets that long went bitter on his tongue.

He reminded himself that others had suffered much worse than not being doted on in their preferred way. However, this reality failed to take away his distaste for each and every gift. Tch. How many times would he have to snuff out that damn sentimentality that he had been so “lucky” to inherit?

Leona’s eyes fell upon the small bottle vial in his palm and the wooden lion tag attached, tied carefully around the bottle. It had been nestled on the corner of his bed when he returned from Spelldrive practice this morning, all nice and wrapped in shiny paper.

His mouth crinkled and a small sound rumbled from his chest without his permission. Relief of some kind maybe. It had been one of the first gifts he received that was not for his birthday or from his family.

A friendly gesture or…somethin’ more insidious?

To think, someone who came to this world with nothin’ goin’ outta their way to get him somethin’...special.

But, “friends” weren’t something he kept. Instead, he had a collection of starry-eyed froshes, classmates, rivals, those few worthy of his respect. And then there was Ruggie of course but, would he be around if not for the understanding they had come to? Best not to dwell on it now.

Leona chuckled watching the amber liquid swish around the curved glass like liquid gold. How bold of them to choose a scent for him of all things. Beastfolk were sensitive to ‘em and he especially. But, they had been the brash and precocious type ever since they came to this school. Always skipping steps to pull off an advanced move.

Regardless of how big of a crowd he’d ever have cheerin’ at one of his games or how many brilliant trinkets he’d be gifted, nothing beat his chosen audience of one. Who, even after seeing firsthand all the grimy parts of him...still havin’ the audacity to stick around so long.

His eyes fell over to the chessboard at the corner of his desk. Brave little creature indeed, and brimming with Savanaclaw tenacity. A little pawn that made it to the other side of the board, ready to be crowned.

No way they knew the implication of such a small gesture, how important scents were to beastfolk, not that he was one for tradition, of course. Still, He brought the bottle to his nose for the umpteenth time as he leaned forward on his elbows. In an odd way, it reminded him of the gardens back at home when it rained, all those lonely hours pouring over books and chess games. 

Alone but…if he concreted enough, he was able to catch a whiff of the oil where their fingers touched the glass. Yes, in their note they had mentioned that this scent reminded them of him, but to his nose it was missing something. A key complementing note. A missing piece. 

The scent of a little herbivore turned into a formidable beast that he couldn’t get out of his head.

His brow furrowed as he glanced over at the small pile of notes, discarded by his boots. Then he tried again this time with more wit.

"Hey– Allow me to thank you for your generous gift. Heh. I can’t believe you actually picked out a halfway-decent fragrance. I might actually keep this. I thought about sending you something in return if the mood struck me, but this thank you note should do the job just fine, right?"

Leona kept it short and sweet. He knew they two were past formalities, but it was amusing to still play the game a little. He had been waiting for them to approach him in such a bold way, and finally, he had been rewarded for his saintly patience. Still, he wasn’t ready to show his hand yet, well-

He allowed sentimentality to win this time and flipped over the note, scrawling a little something extra for their eyes only. 

“P.S. If you were gonna treat your lion so nice…the least ya could do is make good on such bold intentions and show him some proper attention.”

He chuckled again as he let the paper slip from his fingers, finally satisfied with what he had come up with. Honestly, it didn't matter much what he wrote. Maybe he was becoming sentimental in his “old” age but he knew...that they would always find each other in the middle.

It was their move again.

Besides, it was only fair that he repay them properly. Etiquette and all that.

[roach-works]

IT'S TIME TO APPRECIATE THE BLACK AND RUFOUS ELEPHANT SHREW

ON THIS WEBSITE WE LOVE WEIRD ANIMALS AND THIS LITTLE BEAUTY IS CERTAINLY ONE OF THEM. APPRECIATE THE BLACK AND RUFOUS ELEPHANT SHREW TODAY.

NATIVE TO DENSE MONTANE FORESTS OF KENYA AND TASMANIA, THEY BOUNCED BACK FROM 'THREATENED STATUS' BUT STILL FACE HABITAT LOSS DUE TO FOREST FRAGMENTATION.

THESE BEAUTIFUL VACUUM CLEANERS EAT BUGS OUT OF THE LEAF LITTER WITH THEIR NOODLY SNOOT, CAPABLY UNCOVERING BEETLES, CENTIPEDES, AND TERMITES.

MALES ATTRACT AND DEFEND A SINGLE MATE AND CONTROL UP TO A HECTARE OF TERRITORY, WHICH IS A LOT FOR A LITTLE SCOOP OF SPITE AND SNOOTING.

THESE EFFICIENT LITTLE BUSYBODIES BUILD MANY NESTS OUT OF DRY LEAVES TO SLEEP IN ALL ACROSS THE AREA, AS MANY AS A DOZEN, AND USE THEM EACH IN TURN.

DESPITE THEIR COMMITTED MONOGAMY THE BLACK AND RUFOUS ELEPHANT SHREWS DO NOT ACTUALLY LIKE EACH OTHER, MUCH LIKE TIRED BOOMER COMEDIANS: MATED PAIRS SPEND NO TIME TOGETHER OUTSIDE OF MATING.

MOTHERS DON'T EVEN LIKE THEIR KIDS. THEY VISIT THEIR YOUNG AS INFREQUENTLY AS ONCE A DAY TO NURSE. THEY GOT OTHER SHIT TO DO, APPARENTLY.

THE YOUNG ARE LESS PRECOCIAL THAN MOST ELEPHANT SHREWS, SPENDING SEVERAL WEEKS IN THEIR NESTS BEFORE GAINING INDEPENDENCE IN ONLY ANOTHER FEW WEEKS AND NEVER WRITING HOME AGAIN, NOT THAT THEIR PARENTS CARE.

THIS HEFTY AND BEAUTIFUL DEDICATED INTROVERT AVERAGES ABOUT 28 CM / 11 IN IN LENGTH AND 450-700 G / 16-25 OZ IN WEIGHT, IMPRESSIVELY LARGE EVEN FOR AN ELEPHANT SHREW.

YOU HAVE NOW APPRECIATED: THE BLACK AND RUFOUS ELEPHANT SHREW. INSECTIVORE. INTROVERT. ABSENT PARENT. SNAPPY DRESSER. THIS PRINCELY POTATO HAS IT ALL, AND A DOZEN VACATION HOMES. TELL YOUR FRIENDS, UNLESS YOU TOO ARE A BLACK AND RUFOUS ELEPHANT SHREW AND DON'T HAVE ANY.

[kedreeva]

Might be a silly question, but if someone needed to handraise a male peafowl, could they wear some sort of face covering and use a hand puppet like wildlife rehabbers and zookeepers do to prevent imprinting?

The ONLY reason anyone would "need" to handraise a peacock is if the bird is in need of major medical attention that requires more handling than usual. Rehabbers use hand puppets for feeding chicks, but peafowl are precocious- they aren't directly fed by their mothers or fathers, they are just shown foods and they eat by themselves. They're also pretty perceptive little shits with excellent eyesight right from hatch, and do NOT like things that look like peafowl but Aren't (they seem to have an uncanny valley, I have video of chicks freaking out when shown not-real peafowl), so I would think a puppet wouldn't work anyway.

The good news is pretty much no one should "need" to hand raise a peacock; most major medical issues should be culled, not raised, and ones that ARE raised should be handled by experienced keepers that can deal with the problems that occur. This is a part of responsible breeding.

And any chick that isn't a medical issue should never be a "need." Peafowl breeding season is during the summer, when people all over the place are hatching a bazillion chickens, turkeys, guinea, and quail every day- including large box stores like TSC, FFH, and other farm stores, and local feed mills often have local bred chicks. You should have no problem finding companions for solo peachicks (or groups), and you should be able to leave any groups of chicks alone enough to not imprint them.

[kayhi808]

First Crush - 3

*Abby's sticker to Bucky*

After work, the Avengers are relaxing in the common room or playing pool like Clint & Bucky. Hitting Bucky on the shoulder, "I heard lunch was entertaining", Sam enters the room with Nat.

Bucky glares a Nat. "What? I couldn't help it. It was so cute."

"Cute? Are we talking about Miss Abigail Rose?" Steve smirks at Bucky leaning up against the wall by the pool table.

"Who is Abigail Rose?" Clint cocks an eyebrow at Bucky.

Natasha leans in excited to tell the story, "Fury's new assistant got called in today and she had to bring her daughter to work with her. Just cute as can be. Sweet and precocious. She had stickers all over her shirt. How old was she?"

"Two? Three maybe?"

"Adorable! Made a beeline straight to Bucky." Bucky tries to concentrate on his shot while shaking his head but the tips of his ears are turning red.

Incredulously, "Wouldn't give me the time of day," Steve acts disgruntled & shocked.

Sam teases,"You weren't her type. She's into Cyborgs."

Steve laughs, "You're right because she loved the arm! The arm was so pretty. 'I loves it!' "

"Poor mom was so embarrassed. Abby didn't want to leave Buck's side. Finally before she left she peels off a sticker from her shirt and sticks it to his arm."

Sam nods, "It was the 2yr old version of giving someone your insta." They laughs at Bucky's expense and Buck rolls his eyes.

Most people are afraid of him. He doesn't need to threaten or say anything for people to stay away. He did not have that affect on Abby. She didn't fear him at all. She seeked him out. Her tiny body leaning against him. She didn't cringe at the feel of cold metal. Her little fingers traced the gold detail on his arm.

Nat grabs Buck's arm, "Aw, where's the sticker?" Turning it, this way and that. "You lost it," Nat frowns.

Bucky pulls out his ID card and shows them the back where he stashed Abby's sticker, joining in with their laughter. "They were cute."

Clint catches him, "They??"

"She."

"Uh uh, man. You said they."

Natasha smiles slyly, ready to play matchmaker. "Y/N is gorgeous!" Bucky shrugs yet nods staring at the sticker before shoving the card back in his pocket.

*****

Some days are such a struggle. You never would have thought you'd be a widow with a baby to raise by yourself. Abby's father was a pilot in the Air Force. That's what attracted you to begin with. The image of a sexy daring fighter pilot. Things Jason did or talked about were so exciting. He was an adrenaline junkie for sure. Which is fun for a boyfriend, but not the best for a husband & father.

Now, its just you and Abby fending for yourselves. This job with the Avengers was heaven sent. It was so hard to make ends meet but now that you're with the Avengers, a huge weight has been lifted from your shoulders. You'll be able to give Abby a better life. Yet, sometimes just the day-to-day chores overwhelm you.

You finished getting yourself ready for work and started tackling the task of getting Abby ready for daycare. You brush Abby's hair trying to get it into a ponytail. Don't know why you go through the effort, because it's just going to fall out by midday after playing and naptime. "Mama?"

"Yes?"

"Today is school day?"

"Yes. You get to go to daycare and see Ms. Grace and all your friends."

"Mama?"

"Yes?"

"Remember the man with the pretty arm?" She tries to turn around to face you and you have to face her forward so you can get the ponytail up.

"Yes, I do."

"Me, too." You nod, knowing where this is heading already. "Mama?"

"Yes?"

"Mr S'gent don't go daycare."

"No, he doesn't. He's a grown-up. He goes to work." Finishing her hair, you carry her back to the room to put on her shoes.

"Mama?"

Rolling your eyes, "Yes?"

"I'm not a grows up."

Sitting her on the bed you kneel before her to put on her socks & shoes, "Grown-up. No. You are my baby."

"Mama?"

"Abby Rose!" Making wide eyes at her, "You are making Mama crazy." Abby laughs and pats your head.

"Mama?"

"Yesssss, Abby. What?"

She places her little hands on each of your cheeks, "Cans I go to work with yous?" She gives you the most angelic smile. You growl, picking her up & throwing her over your shoulder. She screams and giggles. "Mama!!!"

Bringing her down, to prop her on your hip, grabbing her backpack & your bag to make the trek to her daycare which luckily is only a couple blocks away. "You need to go to daycare."

"But...but...I wants to be with yous," she pouts.

"But...but...NO. You don't want to be with me. You want to see Sargent Barnes." She throws her head back and laughs with a cackle. You shake your head at her. Excuse me, Lil Miss! Who's child is this??

"Mamaaa."

"Abbyyyy." You laugh but sober up, "I'm sorry, baby, but no. You need to go to school."

"But...but...what if he forgets me."

"He will never forget you. He has your sticker. He has your drawing."

She puts her thumb in her mouth & nods her head, but she looks sad. She rests her head on your shoulder for the rest of the walk to daycare.

Next Chapter

@waywardhunter95 @rebeccapineapple @ordelixx @onceithough @crazyunsexycool @thezombieprostitute

[mycurrentobsessionis]

@pink-pearl-plain-jeans took a few days but here. hope this is something you actually wanted lol. this is lowkey a ramble but it is an informed ramble.

First, you are gonna seriously regret asking me, because I have nearly 300 hours logged between these two games and half a masters degree in clinical psychology.

Second, to be fair, you don't have know a lot about ballroom dancing -- I know almost nothing. Toward the end of Step 4 on Baxter's route, he will joke to Jamie about the irony of ballroom dancing, which requires both a partner and a certain level of intimacy, is his most beloved hobby, when the ability to form close, intimate relationships is his biggest struggle.

Baxter is a pretty good example of what disorganized, or fearful-avoidant, attachment looks like in adults. He both desperately wants to form emotional connections with others and intensely fears those same attachments, viewing them as inherently unsafe and unstable. The player can see this in the way Baxter attempts to form lots of superficial connections where he overshares personal details while also being evasive about his deeper feelings. He is aware that he needs some level of human interaction and works to fill that need without leaving himself vulnerable to being hurt or abandoned. This can occur in individuals who had inconsistent parents growing up. Baxter's relationship to dancing mirrors his emotional progression with attachment to others.

As a child, he has a stable group of friends and dances at the country club competitively, and thus likely has a stable, consistent partner with whom he performs. We know very little about Mr. and Mrs. Ward, except for the following:

They are older.

They are wealthy, and likely old money.

They are bigoted, like being queerphobic and racist.

They expected Baxter to behave with greater maturity than would have been typical for his age and "at times, as if he was even older [than them]."

He did not want to spend his first summer after college with them, so they shipped him off to a tiny beachside tourist town, either not caring or not knowing that he is petrified of the ocean.

Something about Baxter would be a problem, and they would hate him if he were someone else's child.

From this, we can garner a few things. The first is that the Wards were likely emotionally immature, possibly parentified him, and likely played "it's okay if it's you" card. When we meet Baxter as a child in OLNF, he is clearly very fond of Qiu, Ren, and possibly Tamarack and Franky as well. These relationships likely provided insulation from parents who alternated between being emotionally distant and overcontrolling. It also makes sense that Baxter would be drawn to younger children here. Baxter chalks it up to his own immaturity, but I would argue that it is in fact because he is precocious that he chooses a younger friend group. Kids his own age would likely be put off by his attitude and may take it as condescending, whereas younger children would appreciate him as older and wiser. Additionally, younger children give him the opportunity to play and engage in silly antics that he may have missed out the first time.

I also wouldn't be surprised if there was some cognitive dissonance as well, since his parents probably espoused queerphobic ideals while also professing to love Baxter, who himself is bisexual and knew very well that he was attracted to boys by the age of 12. Given this, and the amount of bitterness with which he later speaks about them, it also would not surprise me if they had some influence on his drifting apart from Ren and Qiu as they got older. Not that this has to be the case, but I could see Baxter avoiding bringing his very-visibly queer friends (including one who is also a POC) around his parents to avoid hurting them.

He grows up and appears in OLBA as a teen who is somewhat adrift. He doesn't appear to have a stable friend group or sense of identity, and he has limited his contact with his parents to the minimum amount that he feels obligated to contact them. Now, shifting identity is pretty normal for young adults, but Baxter's seems less stable than it should be. What I actually thought was really interesting is the subtle shift between Baxter as he presents himself and as he actually is. He presents himself as accommodating, complimentary, confident, and friendly. The person he actually is -- the one he thinks no one will like -- is sardonic, self-effacing, mischievous, and lonely. In his desire to be included, he avoids imposing his will on others -- Jamie can even convince him to wear a swimsuit and go into the ocean if they really want, something he is terrified to do. He is only able to be genuine if either (a) Jamie has made an explicit effort to show him he is accepted or (b) he is emotionally dysregulated enough that he is unable to keep up the charade

Anyway, at this point, he is presumably no longer competing, and no longer has a steady partner. In his first interaction with Jamie and Cove, he is immediately offering to be their partner, which is a deliberate double-entendre. He comes on strong, because he needs the relationship to begin quickly in order the get what he needs out of it. He has no intention of actually taking the time to get to know people or build a genuine connection with them. It's about control here. Also note that he offers this with the implication that he would be teaching them to dance. Even in asking for a temporary connection, he's framing it as him offering a service in exchange for their company because he doesn't see himself as valuable on his own (Qiu also does this btw). In summary, he is dancing with people he barely knows because while the steps won't be familiar or comforting, he doesn't have to worry about mistakes either. (dun dun dun, the mortifying ordeal of being known!)

As an adult, he shifts this into a more formalized version. He isn't stupid, nor does he enjoy hurting people. He knows that most people are unwilling to abandon relationships so quickly, and he knows he's hurt people. The thing about attachment styles is that you can develop a secure attachment style as an adult. The problem is that you do this by essentially re-parenting yourself. Learning to treat himself with self-compassion is really difficult, though, because that's a learned skill. He needs community or a therapist. The problem is that because of his disorganized attachment style, forming a community is difficult and he would probably also have trouble finding a therapist because that would require a level of vulnerability that he struggles with. Baxter also heavily relies on avoidance as a coping mechanism. When he enters into a relationship, because he is primed to view them as unpredictable and conditional, it activates his fight-flight-freeze response. He then attempts to escape the situation by (a) leaving, (b) ghosting/ignoring, and (c) distancing himself using social niceties to avoid confrontation. If he is cornered (like the end of step 3), he switches to fight mode and becomes caustic. This may indicate that if he entered a therapeutic relationship, he is likely to end therapy prematurely to avoid thinking about his loneliness and attachment issues.

So, because he knows he hurts people by doing all of this, and because he doesn't know how to maintain a relationship, he formalizes the arrangement. People literally pay him for a service (planning) and because he is "in" on such an intimate event, he still gets the feeling of getting to know people and be included, without the emotional risk. Same thing with dancing.

That's why dancing with him after the wedding is such a big deal. Yes, it's a callback to a very special moment for Baxter, but it's also a metaphor for re-entering a relationship. He's been looking at and judging his relationships on the ruptures not the repairs, and to be able to repair a relationship after the mask has come off, the set's been wrecked, and the crowd is gone means that he has lived a lonely life for no reason.

Anyway, all this is to say that Cove was 100% right when he clocked that Baxter was insincere and interacted with people in a really weird way. No one listened though.

[aphroditelovesu]

Yay! I'm so happy you write for Baldwin IV!!! Could you do general yandere headcanons for him? Thank you!💗

''Nothing is more important to me than you.'' — Baldwin IV.

❝ 📜 — lady l: I got a little excited, but I hope you like it. I've always wanted to write for him and I finally got the chance! Good reading and forgive me for any mistakes! ❤️

❝tw: obsessive and possessive behavior, mention of murder, manipulation (sorta of), unhealthy relationships.

❝📜pairing: yandere!king baldwin iv/leper king x gender neutral!reader.

Baldwin had always been shy in his obsession with you, always self-aware of his illness that had left him forever disfigured. He was afraid that you would find him disgusting, that you would hate him and he didn't want that. Baldwin couldn't handle it if you hated him. He wanted to be loved by you, but he was too afraid to talk to you directly for quite some time.

So he remained in the shadows, hidden and longing for you from afar. Even before becoming King, he already dreamed of you and these desires only became more frequent after he became sovereign. He was precocious and maintained a good shape and physical appearance and was optimistic about his illness, but as he grew older he felt increasingly disturbed by the idea of you hating or despising him.

That doesn't mean he ignored you, Baldwin never did that and never will. He can't bear to be away from you, at least not physically, and he can't even go without talking to you. Talking to you was what cheered him up when his mind was consumed by dark thoughts. You were his light.

Baldwin will make sure that once he becomes King, he can ensure that you are well, that you are living well and with the honor, the wealth that you deserve, in his domain. He will do everything in his power to make sure you are eating well and will even go so far as to offer you an official position, if you don't already have one, so he can take care of you.

Although he prefers to stay away so he can also protect you from his illness, that doesn't mean he will allow you to be taken away from him. You may not know it, but you belonged to him. Any love interests or potential suitors/lovers will be quickly and quietly dealt with. Baldwin is not cruel and does not intend to be, but he will become a monster for you.

If he could, Baldwin would marry you, but due to his illness, he is prevented from doing so, so he prefers to keep you close while giving important positions to you or your family. It's a way of ensuring the loyalty of those important to you and having you close by. There are only benefits from his perspective.

Baldwin is remembered and admired for being a competent king who brought prosperity to the Kingdom of Jerusalem, but little is known that the real motivation was you. It was you who held power over him, who influenced him to do anything you wanted. He could become a tyrant if you asked him to. But he feels proud of himself for having met your expectations for his government.

When he has to go out to protect and defend Jerusalem, Baldwin will probably take you with him. He could leave you to take care of State affairs, but he can't bear to be away from you. He is quite clingy although he doesn't always touch you physically, he still needs to be in your presence. It's a constant need, Baldwin feels like a part of his heart withers when he's away from you.

Baldwin may not be able to be with you the way he would like and this has only served to increase his possessive tendencies. He won't allow other people to get too close to you, to steal you from him. Even though you can't officially be his, that doesn't mean he'll let you be someone else's. He will have no problem sending the person who threatens his position in your life to a deadly skirmish, arrest or even executed.

He is neither cruel nor sadistic, but for your sake he will be willing to commit the most heinous crimes just to ensure that you remain by his side. Baldwin needs you like he's never needed anyone before and he knows he'll be destroyed if anything happens to you.

If it were to happen to him, Baldwin will make sure you are safe and protected, perhaps even naming you his Heir. He wouldn't want to leave Earth without you, but he's not selfish enough to want to kill you. He wants you to live a long and happy life, preferably single, even if he's not by your side. He is completely selfless and you will always come first for him. First you and then his duties.

There is nothing he wouldn't do or give to you. Titles, official positions, riches, clothes, jewelry and food in abundance, anything you wanted, he would do it in the blink of an eye. Baldwin trusts you blindly, going so far as to obey your orders on any issue, from food to military matters.

Baldwin IV is a great soft for you and you only. He may seem weak, but that's all he isn't. He is intelligent and knows how to make rational decisions and he will do that with you. Because he loves you, he depends on you and because you are his hope. His light. Don't leave him or Baldwin will go crazy and even go so far as to commit suicide if you abandon him.

You are his greatest strength and his greatest weakness.

[cambion-companion]

Tail Talk

Based on this anon ask:

I would love to see more smut with raphael and a Tiefling tav- Some tail to tail action !! And stuff involving horns..

AND inspired by the art piece where the Tiefling OC has a "heart tail" position around Rolan because I love the idea of Tieflings having tail language.

Especially if our Tiefling Tav is unaware they're doing it.

Raphael x gn!reader

Your tail flicked like an agitated cat. "I'm working on it, Korilla. I was close to success when you whisked me back here." You gestured to the familiar lavish dining hall, the grand fireplace crackling behind where you stood upon the marble floor.

"Our master wishes to speak with you." Korilla raised a preemptive hand to ward off your questions. "Don't ask me why, you know how he is."

"Hmm." You did indeed. You had been his warlock for a shorter time than Korilla, yet his theatrical and often contradictory nature still kept you on your toes.

"And do try to keep that tail of yours in check this time, yes?" Korilla gave you her trademark smirk. "I think he's beginning to notice."

"Notice what?" You were quite puzzled but the Dwarven woman just waved you off and sauntered back to the archive, leaving you alone to wait. "Notice what?" You asked a little louder at the empty doorway she'd disappeared through.

"Hells it's hot." You tugged at the collar of your shirt uncomfortably, familiar with the stifling heat, yet never as comfortable as you were in biting cold climates.

"Indeed." Raphael's voice made you turn, his leathery wings and red skin glowing in the flame light. "This is hell, my dear."

Your tail immediately stilled from its nervous swishing, the blood rushing to your cheeks as it always did when he caught you by surprise.

"I asked you to have an update on your progress." Raphael cocked an eyebrow as he slowly circled around you. He clasped his hands behind his back, observing your comparatively diminutive form. "Two months ago. Perhaps I've been too lenient with you."

"No." You quickly protested.

"I am not one to coddle my servants." Raphael looked you up and down and smiled, looking for all the world like the cat who got the cream.

"No, I know." You said, wanting to turn to face him but hearing the edge in his pleasant tone. "I was almost there when Korilla-"

Your words broke off in a short gasp as you felt a large hand press hot against the small of your back. Raphael leaned over your shoulder, his breath tickling your ear. "Your words paint an idyllic picture, yet the rest of you is quite beyond your control. Is that not so?"

Genuinely confused, you furrowed your brows, your heart hammering in your chest. "I don't know what you mean."

Raphael chuckled and the sound alone sent a shock of feeling to your core. "You truly aren't aware." He slowly withdrew and circled back around until you were chest to chest. "For such a precocious flower, I expected more."

His glowing eyes roved your puzzled expression, self-satisfaction practically oozing from him. His long devil's tail whipped around and tangled with yours. You let out a small squeak of surprise.

"Your tail, my dear." Raphael explained, his tail continuing to twist and pull with your own. "It betrays you."

With a wave of his hand, a large standing mirror was conjured beside you, the reflection of the hearth fire nearly blinding you for a moment. His tail trailed down your leg to wrap around your ankle and Raphael gestured broadly for you to look at yourself. He watched you closely as you turned your face to the shining mirror.

"Oh." You said, your cheeks burning.

"Eloquent as ever." Raphael sounded amused, though something simmered below the surface.

Your tail had been curving in the shape of half a heart, slightly raised at the base in a universal signal of wishing to mate. You quickly let it fall to a normal position, unwilling to look back at your master.

Long fingers tucked beneath your chin and coaxed your face back to his. Raphael's tail slithered slowly up to your thigh, you thought for a moment you were going to succumb to the heat and faint, but his fingers beneath your jaw grounded you.

"I do not mind." Once sure you would not turn away, Raphael released you. "For the present, we have other matters to attend to. Do not think I will forget this revelation, however."

[loveinhawkins]

ao3

Steve’s got a soft spot for the Henderson’s Christmas tree—and sure, he’s biased as hell considering he once helped decorate it: a week or so before Dustin’s Snow Ball, he’d gone round to drop off some hair stuff, and ended up hanging baubles on the branches.

It’s not like he planned to; it’s just that he got caught in a festive whirlwind from the moment Dustin dragged him into the house, and then when he saw the tree, he couldn’t just leave it like that—not with a whole section bare right near the top, and the star wasn’t even on yet.

And then he didn’t really notice the time passing as he worked. His main impressions were of a grateful Claudia mouthing, “Thank you,” while stuck on the phone with her sister, followed by a cat constantly getting under his feet.

Dustin found a spare bow on top of a pile of wrapping paper and batted it towards the cat.

“It’s good we have another cat now. Like, it’s good for mom,” he’d said once Claudia was out of the room.

It was delivered in that precocious, self-assured way Steve was already getting familiar with. He knew what it actually meant: that Dustin was really torn up about… what happened to poor Mews.

But neither of them got around to addressing it—not when it was made clear that Dustin was taking the oath of secrecy so seriously; standing there, with the can of Farrah Fawcett spray hidden up his shirt, he looked like a terrible spy doing his best to conceal classified documents.

Steve disguised a laugh by pretending to fiddle with the Christmas lights.

When Dustin was busy putting the star on top, he surreptitiously left a present under the tree. It wasn’t anything big, but still, he didn’t want the kid feeling obligated to get him one in return. That wasn’t what it was about.

A year later, and Steve’s looking up at the same tree—technically, he’s trying not to get jealous over something so stupid: that the star’s already on top, the tinsel draped perfectly. There’s nothing for him to…

It’s just that he liked …

He blinks. Looks again.

“Finally,” Dustin’s saying, shoving a cardboard box into Steve’s hands, “you can finish it.”

And then he steps away, goes into the kitchen to unpack groceries—adds after God knows how long, “Uh, preferably before New Year’s, Steve!”

Steve jolts into action.

“Yeah, yeah,” he says dryly, but it’s just on automatic pilot as he starts unpacking the box of baubles, and the full impact hits him.

That Dustin must’ve made sure these decorations were kept separate. That he’d left a space clear—right near the top of the tree. That he’d waited, just so Steve could…

Before he can hang up the baubles, Steve has to spend a couple moments just standing there, blinking hard.

Dustin pokes his head in after a little while, nods his approval. It’s when he’s reciting the Christmas dinner options to Tews (Steve stifles a snort, this goddamn ridiculous kid) that Steve seizes his opportunity: drops off his present, hidden in plain sight.

Well. It’s tradition, now.

Just when he’s about to reverse out the driveway, Dustin runs to the car.

“Steve!”

Steve winds down the window. 

Dustin grins, sticks his arm through.

“You forgot your card, duh.”

Steve smiles back. “Thanks, bud.” 

And it’s funny, Steve knows that a part of him will probably always see Dustin as twelve. But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s getting taller, that the first year of high school is flying by, and Steve almost wants to get out the car there and then—to ask him to stop, even though it’s impossible.

He doesn’t. He just gently places the card in the back. Starts the engine.

He kind of feels like he did when the box of tree decorations was against his chest. A warmth, a catch in his throat—quickly blinked away as if it never existed.

Time’s gonna go on, another year reaching its end; and all of this will get stacked up like superimposed images, so that Dustin will always be twelve, and thirteen, and fourteen, all at once.

But as Steve takes a last look in his rear view mirror, he thinks maybe this one will stick the most: Dustin, waving hugely, scraps of tinsel in his hair.

[ghostofbambifanfiction]

CYOA

You know what screw it, I wanted to finish chapter 59 today but I feel horrible and it's just not going to happen so for now you can have this completed scene under the cut with my great affection love love peace peace feel free to react as it'll make me happy etc. etc.

Private WhatsApp Chat Resumed: Friday 18th March, 2022, 07:57 Members: Lily Evans, James Potter

================================

James Potter: i think it's pretty amazing that you and beatrice know the exact date that you first met when you were two

Lily Evans: Lollllll Hello to you too

James Potter: although idk how sirius would react if we knew and i suggested celebrating that hello, also beautiful hello beautiful is what i meant to say

Lily Evans: Suave of you.

James Potter: i'm only just having my first coffee of the day, alright? give me five minutes and i'll be on my game

Lily Evans: I suppose I can allow you five minutes. We didn't always know, but my mum's been journaling every day for most of her life, so a few years back we did a little detective work and it turns out she'd written about my first day at Little Tots. We've done something for our anniversary every year since, but she's blown my gift out of the water this time around.

James Potter: why, what was your gift?

Lily Evans: I bought her a ladyship. She's Lady Beatrice Booth now. Officially. Incredibly it only costs £30 and you get a tiny plot of land in Cumbria with it. I gave the pack to her housemate to leave out today so she'll get a huge kick out of it when she gets home later.

James Potter: how ironic is it that you got her a ladyship and i was looking into getting her canonised earlier

Lily Evans: Lol why?

James Potter: because i really really really liked that video, evans

Lily Evans: I see. I see. I see. Not embarrassed about you having seen that AT ALL. Although I suppose I don't have a right to be embarrassed when I've seen all of your childhood photos, do I? It was probably about time that you saw some of mine.

James Potter: what would you have to be embarrassed about? you were an adorable child i loved watching you grow up on an instagram reel with, inexplicably, flo rida's musical accompaniment

Lily Evans: Lollllllllll I know that probably seems like a weird choice, but it was our go-to dance song when we were eighteen. And on that note, I was a very awkward teenager, as you've now seen.

James Potter: almost everyone on earth was an awkward teenager and the ones who weren't awkward peaked in their teens, so think of how they've suffered since then although i guess sirius is the exception anyway you say you were awkward, but fifteen year old me would have been DESPERATE for fifteen year old you's attention

Lily Evans: Oh, you say that now.

James Potter: no i would have been and i wouldn't have gotten it because as we've previously established i was a prick when i was fifteen so if i'd gone to school with you i still would have been a prick, but a prick who wanted your attention and did all manner of stupid things to get it i would have driven you mad

Lily Evans: Twenty-seven year old you wants my attention and I've not been driven mad over it once, to be fair.

James Potter: twenty-seven year old me has much improved with age and is more deserving of it you however have been a delight your whole life which i now have visual proof of hence i'll be calling your best mate saint lady beatrice from now on

Lily Evans: I wasn't a delight my whole life, I promise you. As a child I was a precocious little shit who thought she knew everything and couldn't be told otherwise. That's why I got into so many scrapes, doing stupid, dangerous things because I couldn't just listen to my mother when she told me "no, Lily, that's dangerous." I was like a working class Peppa Pig, honestly, no wonder my sister couldn't hack being around me half the time. So you're not the only one who has much improved with age. And fifteen year old me would have had a massive crush on fifteen year old you, BELIEVE me.

James Potter: oh really?

Lily Evans: Would I have let you know about it? Absolutely not. But it still would have been there.

James Potter: you mean like the crush you've had on me this whole time?

Lily Evans: I already have to get you back for some nonsense you pulled yesterday, Potter, so I'd advise you not to pile on and add this to the list.

James Potter: lollllllll

Lily Evans: I'm serious!

James Potter: oh i'm sure you are to which i say go on then do it

Lily Evans: I will do it.

James Potter: you go right ahead i can handle it

Lily Evans: You're being very cocky right now and while I can't pretend I don't like it, it'll also prove to be your downfall later.

James Potter: we'll see, we'll see

Lily Evans: We will see.

James Potter: whatever you need to tell yourself, sweetheart

Lily Evans: I think the fifteen year old you has taken over the controls in your head, mate.

James Potter: he probably has, yeah but what can i say he's really chuffed about your crush on me

Lily Evans: You mean the crush you've decided I have that I haven't confirmed?

James Potter: right, yeah, of course, clearly i'm the one in the wrong here still sleeping in my bed, are you?

Lily Evans: I have to go do a work thing now.

James Potter: oh, sure, that old excuse

[mirohlayo]

Hi there, congrats on 1k!! Well deserved and it’s only up from here! I was wondering if I could request 🍓 with the prompts ❝ you know i love and care about you, right? ❞ and ❝ i'm never leaving you. you're stuck with me. ❞ and for Oscar? Thank you in advance if you do this! 🧡

BLEEDING LOVE

( even when you are barely injured, Oscar made the promise to always take care of you. )

warning : mentions of blood, fluff

note : loved this one. and thank youuu so so muchh ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩 !!!!

word count : 1.2k

It definitely wasn't your day. At least it was before you made a clumsy move.

The cut on your hand, which is not that thin and small, reveals a red pool of blood. The small reddish drops, almost black burgundy, fell freely onto the ground. You seem to be dizzy for a moment, your vision is wandering.

The knife that you held firmly in your right hand comes down with a dull thud on the cutting board, where your pieces of fruit absorb the blood flowing from your hand. It wasn't that bad, but it definitely wasn't pretty to look at.

You weren't really the clumsy type, but sometimes that happens. You were precocious and you took care of yourself, in order to avoid any injuries. But a little careless mistake always happens and, unfortunately, your hand paid the price.

Cutting fruit into pieces is a task that does not require talent, it is even an easy task to accomplish. So why did you have to cut your hand, with that knife that cut your skin enough to release a flood of blood.

Usually, you would have panicked and asked your boyfriend Oscar for help. He's always taken care of you and he knows how to take care of you, so you've just been used to being pampered by this man.

However, the Australian has not yet arrived from his meeting at McLaren's MTC, and so you find yourself alone, in your kitchen, with your hand bleeding, and your thoughts completely lost. What to do in this situation?

You definitely didn't want to bother your boyfriend. After all, he's at an important meeting and you're definitely not going to let him come to your rescue for a simple cut, even if it's painful and bloody. The best thing is to take care of yourself, like a real adult.

As you take a deep breath, you finally come to your senses and run to the bathroom. You quickly open the small medicine cabinet, where the bandages and disinfectant are stored. Passing your hand under the water, you then wrap it in a small bandage carefully made by you, since a bandage was too small to cover your wound.

You finally sigh, putting the care kit back in its original place. Then, returning to the kitchen, you take care to throw the blood-stained fruits in the trash, keeping the intact ones to eat.

You sit comfortably on the sofa, bowl of fruit in hand and your favorite series on the television. Now all that remained was to wait. Wait for your boyfriend to arrive. What will he say when he notices the big reddish spot on your hand?

You didn't want to worry him so little. It's so childish to worry Oscar just over a small injury, and there was no way he would worry about you, when after all everyone cuts themselves with a knife.

You just had to find an excuse, a solution, so as not to worry him. But it seems that time was not on your side, and that Oscar's arrival was closer than expected.

You didn't have time to think, the Australian showed up at your house, the door wide open, and his smile wide. Shit. You have to hide your hand.

You hear him call your name as he walks a little closer to the living room. “Hello, pretty girl.” You turn your head to look at him from the couch. His hair is tangled from his cap and his cheeks are pink from the scorching heat outside. He is simply adorable.

A gaping smile takes place on your face as you feel Oscar wrap his arms around your chest. You take care to hide your left hand as he leans closer to you, capturing your lips in a quick kiss. “How is my princess?” He asks you suddenly, placing another kiss on your hair.

You fake a smile, hoping it's real and sincere enough. “Good. How did the meeting go?” You try to change the topic of conversation, before he notices that no, you're not doing very well. He takes a seat next to you on the couch, snuggling closer to your body.

“We talked a little about the car, the improvements and the next races. Nothing special.” You nod slowly, taking care to pay attention. But maybe that was a mistake.

As you listened to him speak, you suddenly placed a lock of hair behind your ear, using your left hand, where the bandage was immaculate with blood. And of course, it didn't escape Oscar's gaze.

His eyes widen as he quickly grabs your hand, peering in horror at the red bandage. "What in the world is that?? Princess, you're not okay at all !" His eyebrows furrow as you see worry dotted across his face.

Oh. You, who didn't want to worry him, it's ruined. "No really, I'm fine Oscar. It's nothing, just a small cut." You try as best you can to reassure him, but it doesn't seem to be working. "A small cut? The bandage is dripping blood! You should have told me sooner."

You lower your head, ashamed. You absolutely didn't want him to react like this and yet that's what you triggered. "I'm sorry Oscar. I didn't mean to worry you just about that." His expression softens, as his eyes now look at you tenderly.

Oh, his heart couldn't bear to see you so helpless. "Ohh, princess. You shouldn't have hesitated to tell me." He cups your face, caressing your cheeks with his thumbs. “You know I love and care about you, right?” You can only look into his eyes, nodding.

After all he's right, he always looked out for you.

A soft smile settles on his face, as he places a kiss on your forehead. “Now c’mon, I’m going to take care of you.” He doesn't wait for your approval to lead you to the bathroom, and this time redo the bandage on your hand.

He disinfects the cut using a compress before bandaging it carefully. His gestures are cautious, fluid and extremely delicate. He doesn't want to hurt you more. Once the treatments are finished, he places another kiss on your hand. “Ohh, my poor baby.”

“Thank you Oscar. I don’t know what I would do without you.” He just smiles, before guiding you both into bed. He pulls you into his arms, holding you incredibly tight against him, careful not to crush your bandaged hand.

You feel more tired now. Maybe it's because Oscar discovered your injury, but you feel less energetic and the heat from Oscar makes you want to sleep. Your eyes slowly droop as you snuggle into him.

He comes to gently caress your hair, tracing indefinite patterns on the skin of your back. "I love you so much, Osc. Please don't leave me". You can only beg him, beg him to stay by your side.

These few words make him smile in such a pleasant way that his cheeks hurt. And in a last soft kiss pressed against your cheek, he addresses these few words to you. "I'm never leaving you. You're stuck with me."

You smile softly against his chest. Because you can't deny it, Oscar will always make sure to stay with you, and keep you stuck by his side for the rest of his life. “And I love you too, with all my heart, princess."

[atopvisenyashill]

Harwin being sent by his liege lord on what was always meant to be a quick if difficult task, just stop the Mountain from reaving on the King's justice, that turns into this nightmare of a life where he spends years away from home, away from civilization, away from safety and stability and sanity, to watch everyone die around him, to watch magic he barely understands bring the man he's sworn to serve back to life again and again, because there's nothing else to do but keep fighting and hope you're making a difference and not fucking everything up and making it worse-

and then Arya shows up and she's just as precocious and wild and underfoot as she's always been, and she's alive and mostly safe and traumatized sure but she's in one piece, she's fared not that badly compared to some of the little girls he's seen, and I imagine it felt like a small miracle to have her there, just for a moment, proof that he can do what he was tasked with and keep people safe BUT

then Arya escapes and barely any time later, he's coming across Catelyn's naked, water logged body on the Trident and there's a direwolf guarding the body so it's not nibbled on that leaves the moment it hears them coming, and he's begging Thoros to bring her back, bring his liege's lady back, bring Arya's poor mother back, but all he can do is cry and watch as Beric kneels besides her, kisses her awake like something out of a fairy tale, then falls to the side, dead at last, as something much worse that wears Catelyn's face rises in his place. What can Harwin do?

He continues to serve.

[fangsandfeelings]

There’s a first time for everything

After a long day of fighting for your life and attempting to save the known world, you decide to let yourself indulge in a bath at The Elf Song. Naturally, you leave your clothes on the floor of your room, out in the open….. where anyone could…..stumble upon them…..

—————————

Astarion sauntered down the hallway to your room. You had all gotten back not too long ago, so he thought he could sneak a late night chat with you before lights out. He mindlessly pushed the door open, already opening his mouth to start about how Wyll had gotten on his last nerve when he paused, you weren’t in your bed where you usually were this time of night. He immediately felt a surge of anxiety, but pushed it down, remembering that the most likely solution is not that you got kidnapped my your murderous kin, no. It must be something much more mundane than that.

He narrowed his eyes, looking into the darkest corners of the room, trying to perceive any traces of movement or suspicious activity, but nothing. Just as he was about to turn around and try another room in the tavern, he spied a precocious little pile in the middle of your floor. He doesn’t know how he missed it on his entry, but he certainly is intrigued now by the little peek of strappy, iridescent fabric he can see. He quietly pads over to the mound, his dead heart stirring a little, as if wanting to beat faster knowing what he’s about to get up to. Kneeling down, he lightly grabs at the piece that’s been eyeing him to find it is indeed your darling panties, just sitting here all alone…..

Astarion stares at the fabric in his hands, contemplating whether or not he should be disgusted or proud with the thoughts of lust that are running rampant through his mind. Is this a breach of privacy? Surely not, you’ve shown and given him things much more intimate than a pair of your panties. Before he can start to talk himself out of it, he raises the delicate fabric closer to his face. He can already smell your warm scent as it wafts towards him. Slowly, he lets himself raise his hand until your panties are held across his nose and mouth, and he greedily breaths in your scent. Gods…. He can feel himself already getting hard against the waist band of his trousers. He figures should probably take care of this…after all, you’re nowhere to be found…

~~~~~~~

You hear his footsteps as he crosses the threshold of your room, and you smile gently at the fact that you’ve memorized what his footsteps sound like. You sit still, waiting for him to either join you or at least say hello before heading to bed, but after his initial footsteps you hear nothing. You close your eyes and lean your head back against the rim of the bath tub, allowing yourself to relax for one more moment before calling him over, when you hear rustling, and a quiet but full breath, as if someone was breathing through…. fabric? You sneakily peer through a torn hole in the bath tub curtain, and you spy your beautiful pale elf, kneeling in the middle of your room, with a handkerchief across his fine features. No wait, you squint until you realize that the handkerchief is in fact your panties, and Astarion is getting utterly lost in them. You hear him softly groan and your eyes flick down to his trousers, where his cock strains against his waistband. You swallow, and feel yourself clench around nothing, just at the thought of Astarion being so around by you that even your underwear would warrant such a reaction from him. You’re stunned into watching him, not caring if the bath water turns to ice and your fingers and toes turn to prunes.

~~~~~~

Astarion sits and leans against the foot of your bed, panties still in hand, while he quickly undoes the lacing at the front of his trousers. He allows himself a soft sigh when his cock springs free, and is sure he imagines hearing a small gasp as it hits his stomach. He couldn’t care less at this point, making himself feral by only breathing in the smell of you. He moans when his hand wraps around his cock, but quickly stifles himself with your panties again. He enjoys a few slow strokes at first, his eyes rolling into the back of his head from the sheer ecstasy of his situation. He never in his 200 years would’ve guessed that he would be so enamored by another person that he would partake in such actions, but here he was, and it was exquisite.

He moved faster on his cock, feeling his balls grow tighter. Holy shit, was he this close to cumming already?

He let himself moan into your underwear, getting slightly lightheaded now from having it so closely pressed to his nose. His issue was however easily solved by using his tongue to pull the fabric into his mouth. He felt two little tears as he bit down to stifle even more moans trying to escape from his throat. He figured if he ruined this pair, he’d buy you 100 more, it was certainly worth the gold.

Another flick of his tongue had his tasting you on the now wet fabric. Sending him over the edge, reeling, pressing his head against your footboard and biting down on your pretty panties in his mouth. A long sound, he wasn’t sure whether it was fully a growl or groan ripped from his throat, barely quieted by the delicate fabric.

As he came down from his high, he pulled your underwear away from his face, glancing down at himself to survey the damage he caused with this little escapade. He had indeed torn two fang sized tears in the middle. Maybe he could embroider his name instead of buying you new pairs, he thought. That way if anyone were to see it they would know exactly who had made the holes in the first place. The one who had made a very similar set of pretty holes in your beautiful neck. He was only pulled from his thoughts by your voice from across the room,

“That was my favorite pair you know” you said, slightly hoarse from watching the events that had just played out. You let a smirk creep onto your face as he stared at you in shock.

Not one to be outdone, Astarion only let the shock show for a second before falling into a beautifully devious smile, holding up the ripped fabric with his fingers.

“Oh, darling, I think I can say the same. Don’t worry though pet, I’ll gladly stitch my name into them. It won’t take but a few days” your eyes went wide at the thought of feeling the stitching as you walked, knowing it was his name that was constantly touching you. You silently nodded, and he gave you a low chuckle in response.

“Looks like you could use a bath” you said to him softly, and he didn’t waste a second before peeling off his clothes and getting no into the bath with you.

“So when’s my turn?” You said to him, smiling innocently. He kissed you gently on your mouth, moving then to your neck,

“Whenever you please darling, your every wish is my command.”

—————-———

Here’s your second fic! Feel free to give me suggestions/feedback :))

[catandthewell-if]

There is an ichor creeping its way through Wonderland, devouring residents never to be seen again. That's how you got your "promotion" to the Role of the Cheshire Cat. You thought things would be okay until an Ink Well appeared right in the middle of the Red Queen's garden and took out half of the court gathered there. Now you're tasked with finding the source of the ichor and stopping it before it consumes all of Wonderland.

The Curious Case of the Cat and the Well is a WIP and interactive CYOA novel. It is a fantasy adventure romance story with heavy focus on plot, romance, and stats. It is inspired by Alice in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass. It's being written in Twine.

Note: Because this is a WIP the name of some places or people may change between now and the final version.

Genre: Adventure, Fantasy, Romance

Rating: Not rated as of right now.

Tracked Tag: #cat and the well

Status: In Development (Writing/Slow Coding)

Demo || Romance Options || Side Characters || FAQ || Ask Guidelines || Tag Navigation || Dev's Main Blog ||

In The Curious Case of the Cat and the Well, you play as a Wonderland resident who's been "promoted" to the position of the Cheshire Cat. You were simply minding your own business one day when you were ripped from your original Role and put into the Role of the Cheshire Cat. You've been in the Role for a little bit now. As for who put you in the role? Wonderland, itself did that. A bit bizarre, but it does have a mind of its own.

Without the interference of an "Alice" figure, life is pretty normal. Odd but normal. It's not always wacky and nonsensical in Wonderland, believe it or not. When an "Alice" appears, Wonderland moves all of its pieces to tell the story again and again like a play. That's how its supposed to work anyways. But ever since this strange ink-like substance appeared the story hasn't been running smoothly like it should.

When an Ink Well appears during a tea party in the Red Queen's garden and consumes half of the court, you decide it's time to do something about this. With a group of pretty unlikely allies, you set off to find what's causing the ichor to appear and stop it.

Play as a male, female, or nonbinary Cheshire Cat

Customize the way you look, including your ears and tail and your cat form! Your normal form is humanoid with cat ears and a tail

Choose what your Role was before Wonderland made you the Cheshire Cat. Your previous Role will give you exclusive abilities not available to other roles

Choose to romance 1 of 5 options or none at all

Figure out what's going on with the ichor and why it's appearing and where do the residents it absorbs go

Make a decision with the fate of Wonderland in your hands

The Cheshire Cat - You (he/him), (she/her), or (they/them)

You play as the Cheshire Cat. You possess all the typical things associated with the cat, such as disappearing and reappearing and your iconic grin. Your previous Role will also give you specific abilities. Being put in a Main Role made you functionally immortal so you don't know how old you really are, but physically, you appear to be in your mid-twenties (24-26).

The people of Wonderland sometimes call you Chess/Chessie.

Appearance: Player Determined, although your base figure is humanoid with cat ears and a tail

The Alice - Alice/Alex Liddle (she/her) or (he/him)

A is the newest "Alice" to Wonderland. The 103rd "Alice" to be exact. Because of the ichor, their story broke apart pretty early on leaving them basically stranded in Wonderland with no direction. It's good that they're a precocious person and found their own way to the Red Queen's garden. They're a bit naive but are earnest and kind and was one of the first people to volunteer to go with you. Their only stipulation: to go home when it's done.

Appearance: A is on the shorter side of average in terms of height. Alice is 5'3 and Alex is 5'8. They both have fair skin with freckles and loosely curly blonde hair. Alice has long hair while Alex's is about medium-length. Their eyes are light blue and their frame is lithe and thin. They appear to be in their early twenties (20-23).

The Mad Hatter - Olivia/Oliver (she/her) or (he/him)

O is the Mad Hatter. They aren't the "original" Mad Hatter, but they've been in their Role longer than you've been the Cheshire Cat. They are eccentric and a bit unpredictable. That's probably why they were the second person to volunteer to go with you to figure out what's going on, after Alice/Alex. You two don't really get along, bickering often when not in your Roles, so you're surprised when they volunteered. Being a Main Role, like you, they also are functionally immortal, but appear to be in their mid-twenties (24-26), as well.

Appearance: O is pretty tall with Olivia being around 5'9 and Oliver being about 6'1. They both have clear tanned skin and orange-red hair. Their hair is mixed textures with some strands being straight and others wavy. They always keep their hair down, even if it's inconvenient. They have brown eyes and a lanky frame.

The Red Queen/The Queen of Hearts - Isabelle (she/her)

Isabelle is the Red Queen and the Queen of Hearts. You find her Role varies from "Alice" to "Alice". She's fairly new to the Role, having acquired her position around the same time you became the Cheshire Cat. She's a bit stiff and serious, trying to figure out where her role stops and where she begins. She, like her predecessors, has a passion for roses and it was her garden that was destroyed by the Ink Well. You aren't surprised when she says she's coming with you "for her rose garden". As a Main Role, she is also functionally immortal. She physically appears to be in her early thirties (30-33).

Appearance: Isabelle is a woman of about average height, standing at 5'5. She has soft brown skin and straight black hair. She has red eyes and a fuller figure.

The Jabberwocky - Fenrir (he/him)

Fenrir is the Jabberwocky. He is the second Jabberwocky ever in Wonderland. His role, like Isabelle's, varies from "Alice" to "Alice". Some "Alices" don't ever go near him while others face him. He's solemn and fairly stoic and serious. He's the last person you expected to volunteer since he prefers to be solitary, although you suspect it's because he just wants to get this over with and go back to minding his own business. As a Main Role, he is functionally immortal, but physically appears in his late twenties (27-29).

Appearance: Fenrir is pretty tall, standing at a wild 6'5. He has tanned olive skin and black hair with streaks/highlights of dull blue and green. His eyes are grey and he has an fit figure, not too muscular but not lanky either. He has a few light scars on his face.

Wonderland - ??? (it/its)

Wonderland is... Wonderland. It has a personality of its own and is the one who moves you and the others around when there's an "Alice". It's in charge of making sure the "Alice's" story runs smoothly and to get them in and out quickly. Due to the ichor appearing, it's no longer running smoothly, often forgetting to move pieces around causing a disruption of the cycle. When the Ink Well appeared in the Red Queen's garden, it seems to have stopped "working" all together.

Appearance: It's a land, so far. Notable chessboard fields?

Mysterious Figure - ??? (they/them)

What's Wonderland without one mysterious figure? After the latest Ink Well in the Red Queen's garden, you've been seeing them around Wonderland. You aren't sure if they're following you or if you're indirectly following them, but you seen them quite often. Even odder, every time you see them, they look confused. How strange...

Appearance: You haven't gotten close enough to fully look at them, but you think they at least have blue hair? Or was it purple? Maybe green or even pink? You swear it was white one time. Their skin is very pale, nearly paper white. They're tall from what you can tell. Probably around 6'2. They're clothed in a long black robe with a hood. It's a bit on the nose, don't you think?