#make your own positive post(s) for other characters

[asongofstarkandtargaryen]

Happy father's day to the best dad of Westeros, Ned Stark.

Your six kids were blessed to have you in their lives.

[endursent]

- My Partner Turned Into A Cat And I Don't Know How To Fix It (3)

【 content; established relationship , fluff , humour , gn!reader 】

【 characters; aventurine , blade , dr. ratio , jiaoqiu , jing yuan , moze , sunday 】

【 premise; " You have been struck with a curse of some sort which has turned you into a cat, your partner has no idea how to fix it nor how long it might take. Yet he also cannot help but be rather amused by the situation despite the uncertainty…" 】

【 note; happens independently of other chapters of course 】

【 word count; 4.308 | read on ao3 | hsr their ver | gi their ver | gi reader ver 】

Aventurine;

He’s not in any hurry to get you back to normal, he likes to have you on his lap as he meets with some poor subordinates—perhaps it makes him feel like an intimidating figure from a movie—stroking your back and leaning back against the expensive desk chair he spent a few weeks waiting on the shipment for just last month. 

  You don’t complain, he pets you and gives you treats for being still and quiet—but as soon as whoever he was meeting with leaves, he scoops you up in his arms and smiles widely, lifting you up by holding under your front legs so that you dangle like a sausage. “Such a good kitty,” he coos and kisses your furry belly with exaggerated sounds. Earning himself some whacking and hissing for the annoying display and uncomfortable position. 

  Aventurine buys luxury cat food for you, only the best for his favourite (also only) little furball… only to scratch his head over the fact you won’t eat any of it. He knows your noggin is all right, but he didn’t expect you to reject the stinky—though nutritious—food. He gave up after a few tries and gave you some chicken, cheese and egg… a strange combo, but you’re hungry.

  An instinctual need comes over you to scratch, to dig your claws into something and stretch them—preferably into something—but every single damned furniture in his apartment costs more credits than you accumulate in three months. He’s completely stumped by your insistent meowing and complaining of restless boredom, being left home alone to do NOTHING while he works for a majority of the day. 

  Adorable as it is, Aventurine just does not understand what you want, he cleaned the litter box three times, he gave you some nice cheese—he even gave you a tablet to type what you needed on, but your paws are clumsy and it came out rather incomprehensibly. Eventually, you couldn’t fight it anymore and left marks on one of the sleek dining table chairs. He didn’t seem too upset and after looking up your behavioural clues (now with the scratching evidence) he found out you simply felt restless and needed to stretch and flex your claws. Now you have a scratching post you’ll have to resell when this is over (hopefully you will go back to normal soon…)

  Only two days in, and Aventurine has about three hundred pictures of you… in this form, he also has more than enough normal pictures of you. Snapping one at every angle—the way your pupils widen and narrow in different circumstances, catching you cleaning yourself, a funny, blurred picture of you mid-yawning where he stuck his finger into your mouth and got himself a prick of your fangs and yanked his hand away. 

  He snuggles against you in bed, holding you tightly to himself and nuzzling his face into your belly again—not even leaving small scratches on his forehead gets him to let go. “Stop wriggling, you’re soft and warm—you wouldn’t leave me to sleep alone, would you? So cruel,” he guilts you, smiling all the same. 

  Aventurine is well equipped to handle some separation for a time, after all, he goes weeks—sometimes months without your presence depending what the IPC needs of him, so you KNOW he can handle a few nights without having you squeezed to his chest. But your argumentative meowing doesn’t convince him to let go. 

  He’s never owned a pet before, and it shows. He’s lucky you’re merciful. 

  But can you help yourself? No. As his eyes drift shut and the sounds of the megacity outside the windows mellow into quieter hums and the majority of citizens retreat for the night… you smuggle against him, whiskers squished uncomfortably and tail swaying, tickling his forearm. You wouldn’t dare wake him, every wink of peaceful sleep is precious and if holding you in this furry form the Aeons have cursed upon you for the next days gives him comfortable rest, then you will be uncomfortable for a few nights. You’ll live. 

Blade;

The door slides open, your small ears flicking towards the sound as you blink towards Blade’s approaching form. He looks unhappy—annoyed, even. You don’t even have time to meow curiously before he’s hauling you upwards and carrying you under his arm. 

  Your protests fall on deaf ears as you hiss and flail, you feel like he’s going to drop you any second, plus, it’s uncomfortable!! 

 Thankfully, he puts you down relatively quickly, plopping you down on a sofa before sitting down himself… you shake yourself and sit down, squinting at him… what does he want? Blade doesn’t look at you, merely folds his arms over his chest and sits in silence. Okay, you’re trained in Blade-communication, kind of—fetching you abruptly… not looking at you…

  He wants affection.

  Fair enough, you’ve got plenty—though it’s difficult to express it like this. Stretching for a moment, Blade watches as you rub your cheek into his side before hopping onto his lap, tail swaying lazily as you stare up at him—as if trying to either read his mind or get him to start talking. Good luck with both. 

  You raise your paw and whack at his chest, meowing attentively. 

  Blade frowns and takes your front leg, holding it softly. He presses his thumb on the beans beneath your paw and watches as claws instinctively emerge… he doesn’t say anything as the then opens your mouth and inspects the sharp fangs there before Blade nods and pats your head stiffly. 

  You’re not entirely sure what he was doing—perhaps checking to make sure you had the components to defend yourself? It would be in line—but you sit still while he does. After the stiff pet, you lean into his hand and chase after it as he pulls away. His hand stills as you reach into it, and he resumes the pet. 

  “There are times I wish you were this quiet,” he utters, large hand practically engulfing your small, furry head. “But now that you are unable to talk my ears off, I find that perhaps I didn’t mind it as much as I imagined.”

  Your tail sways a little faster, maybe he finds it easier to talk to you like this? When there’s not really a ‘person’ staring back at him, making him face himself in the reflection of human eyes. You wonder if he talks to animals he passes by like this. 

  Of course, Blade knows you can hear him, that you understand his words… but it is the inherent humanity in your gaze that halts his words, and now that there’s just… this fuzzy little creature who happens to be you in front of him. He finds it easier. 

  That’s alright, you don’t need him to carve out his heart and lay it on a platter in front of you.

Dr. Ratio;

Ratio clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Come down from there, stop acting like a child,” he knows you’re in the form of a cat right now—but your conscious is not. You’re fully capable of acting like the adult you are. He’s holding a tablet he was, at this point, trying to force into your mouth. 

  Like an idiot, a very hungry idiot, you had ‘helped yourself’ to some lunch in the break room fridge… which, as Ratio had told you very firmly, is NOT for cat consumption. 

  So now, he was trying to get you to hurriedly throw it up before you start to digest it,and you are NOT making it easy for him—he’s trying to HELP you damn it. 

  Ratio’s lab is not a place for cats, in fact it’s only a place for him. You happen to come there often whether he wants it or not, but it’s his space where he can concentrate and focus on his work… your presence doesn’t necessarily disturb him, and you do bring him lunch and coffee—but in this form? 

  He had to lock you in a box. 

  You had tried to knock something over on one of his workbenches—entirely instinctively, you didn’t do it intentionally, to your defence—and then you had eaten that pasta lathered in sauce and vegetables not suited for cats, especially the heap of garlic in it. 

  And thus… you meow and wail pathetically, he placed the box onto a table, and it has bars on one side—so you’re breathing perfectly fine, as well as seeing out of it. Nevertheless, you sound like he’s torturing you?? He’s given you perfectly suitable snacks and entertainment while he finishes work. It’s your fault for not behaving. 

  But as he lets you out at the end of the day and you strut out of the box sulking, with a lowered tail and flattened ears, he sighs. 

  Ratio picks you up into his arms and rubs your furry cheek with his thumb, both an annoyed and amused glint in his eyes. “I am trying to find a solution to your little predicament, and you’re not making it easy for me. Would you feel better to be left at home?”

  You meow in protest, at least here you can watch him work, you’ll try to reign in these pesky instincts!

  Ratio hums, he pokes your nose and you sneeze lightly. “Very well, I’ll put you back into the box at the first sign of mischief.” Cruel. 

  You’re on your best behaviour, you sit and watch patiently as he swipes through datapads, searching for any information on how to get you back to your usual self. He doesn’t complain as you stretch and hop onto his lap, curling up on his thighs and laying your head against his stomach. 

  Absentmindedly, as he types and ponders, Ratio begins stroking your back. You’re surprisingly soft—not that it’s unexpected for a cat’s fur to be soft… but he doesn’t pet cats very often. You begin to rumble, a deep purr leaving you as you snooze comfortably on his lap. Ratio huffs, scratching behind your ears. “I’ll get you back to normal soon… but you are rather amusing like this.”

  He’s a rather good… pet owner (you don’t really like thinking that, but it rings rather true for this situation), he gives you space when you need it and always feeds you on time. Ratio lets you come to him and doesn’t yoink you back when you decide you don’t want to lay on him anymore. 

  He also gives the best scritches, out of everyone in the world (in your opinion (he’s also the only one giving you scritches)) and manages to reach the spot behind your ears perfectly. You meow up a storm in protest when he stops and he sighs before continuing. He supposes this is his life for the time being.

Jiaoqiu;

He finds endless enjoyment in your… predicament. He wriggles strings and makes you chase after shadows, Jiaoqiu even “accidentally” tossed the covers over your sleeping form on the bed—causing you to tangle yourself and get stuck in them. 

  Apparently the loud, distressed and helpless meowing was funny, so he said as he freed you. 

  He doesn’t tease you too much, thankfully—it was mostly over the first few days that he found amusement in the situation. But as six days come and go, he starts to get a bit worried, he hadn’t seen how it happened, he had only come home and thought a cat had wriggled through the crack in the windows and was going to put it outside and shoo it to go to their own home…

  You thankfully managed to convince him, but despite consulting with the Alchemy Commission and even asking some colleagues if anyone else had mysteriously turned into a cat… he had no answers. 

  You tried to join him along for the day, chasing after him as he left your home to meet up with Feixiao, but after noticing you were trailing him from a small distance, he shooed you back home, saying he wouldn’t be able to keep an eye on you, and he didn’t want you to get swept up by anything. 

  Unfortunately for him, you’re stubborn, and you don’t want to just sit around and home doing nothing but napping—tempting as it sounds. So you go around him, you know your way around the Yaoqing and easily sneak up on the three of them as they meet in a populated square.

  Well, “sneaking up on” Feixiao, Moze and Jiaoqiu is practically impossible—before you know it, a large hand swoops you up and you’re met with violet, suspicious eyes. 

  You meow, attempting to explain yourself, but as you’re brought to Feixiao and Jiaoqiu, your partner pinches the bridge of his nose and explains that it’s just you. He had already come to them for help, but hadn’t actually brought you along—and surprisingly, Feixiao seemed rather happy to have you along.

  And thus, you came along to some meeting and a boring day on the job, but it wasn’t so bad. You looped around Jiaoqiu’s legs as he stood and sat by his side, happy to be tagging along. He sighs and pets you, as much as he enjoys your presence, he is a bit worried that he doesn’t know how to reverse this… for now, he will accept the affection and slight neediness from you to be close to him. 

  He lies down in your home come evening, tired from both the day as well as having to keep an eye on you so you hadn’t wandered about and got lost or separated from him. 

  You hop onto his chest, stretching before kneading on his shirt happily, glad that you were allowed to tag along. You dig your claws into him and purr happily. Jiaoqiu can’t help but smile and rub your ears, you’re too cute like this. “I feel that I worry about you constantly, even before you… were rather unexpectedly turned into a cat,” he hums to himself. “You don’t make it easy for me either, how did you get yourself into this predicament? Perhaps I should have you type your responses on a keyboard.”

  You can only purr and meow in response, much as you’d like to recount the incredibly stupid way this happened. 

  At least, you can sleep soundly for the night—so long as you stick close to him, he doesn’t want you to wander off and get another curse slapped on top of this one. 

Jing Yuan;

He’s… a little envious. Just a little. 

  He gets over it quickly, at first he was rather concerned—how had this happened? Is it dangerous? Hopefully reversible… but when he realises that you’re fully conscious and don’t feel ill or strange (other than what would be reasonable when your body changes like this), he relaxes slightly.      He himself doesn’t have many leads, but he sends those who can figure this out on the task to do so. Meanwhile… he likes to cuddle with you.

  Now that isn’t so unsurprising, Jing Yuan very much doesn’t like to give you a centimetre for yourself in your bed—but this is a little absurd. You’re always either on his lap, on his chest if he’s laying down, next to him (touching his thigh or leg) or even on his shoulders when he’s walking around… though you don’t really like that last part, you always feel like you’re one sharp turn from tumbling to the floor. 

  He loves to pamper you, pet you, rub your cheeks and ears, scratch behind them, feed you treats—you’re not like Mimi! That lion needs heaps of food per day to merely survive, but you’re small, you don’t need the massive bowl of fish he just brought you?! 

  While you appreciate the enthusiasm, and thought, you sneak much of it to Mimi, who is more than happy to eat some of your food… a little too happy, you once thought they were going to eat you too. 

  Jing Yuan is often busy, and as you mostly just see each other after and before work—except when you sneak him out for lunch or have a nap when you really should be doing something productive (he has that effect on people)—he’s rather happy to spend this much time with you now, even if you’re in a different form. 

  However… he does not stop kissing your nose and belly, every time he kisses your nose you sneeze—and you don’t like it when he’s poking around your belly, but no amount of hissing or whacking gets him to stop! At this point, you’ve hidden at the top of a high cabinet in the Seat of Divine Foresight. Watching Jing Yuan from above as he searches for you, trying to lure you out with some delicious smelling cheese… no! Get a hold of yourself, he’s trying to bait you out! 

  You start to realise how Mimi feels when you keep kissing and rubbing their tummy… it’s just so soft, you can’t help it, but you get it now… it’s not nice for the cat! 

  Eventually, Jing Yuan compromises, no kisses on the tummy… but twice the kisses on the head. You accept his terms. 

  The results of how to turn you back are going slowly, and so Jing Yuan gets you comfortable—no need for a cat bed though, everyone in this house, feline and not, sleeps on or around the bed. Though Mimi is not allowed on the bed when the Luofu’s weather systems display hotter temperatures, you would quite possibly perish if you had both Jing Yuan’s radiating body AND Mimi on both sides. 

  Thankfully, your fur regulates your heat very well—not so fortunate for Jing Yuan that you feel a need to lay on his chest over the night and he wakes up five times because you keep going back after he moves you next to him. It’s his fault, he insisted you lay on him constantly at the start, he trained you to do this.

  He is rather careful that when you and Mimi play around that the lion doesn’t accidentally… eat you, or crush you—Mimi is socialised with people rather well and doesn’t chase animals too much, but they have always been the only cat in the house. Thankfully it seems Mimi at least somewhat recognises that you’re still you, despite stinking of “foreign cat in my house”.

  Mimi also has given you precisely four baths in the last week, you look like you were tossed in a blender after they’ve licked you clean. 

Moze;

He has you tucked into a cloth bag he made to carry you around. you meow in concern, as you feel that accompanying him of stealth and espionage missions isn’t… the best idea. 

  “It’s fine, you’re in no danger,” he assures… surprisingly, Moze is very good at deciphering what you’re trying to communicate. He reaches back and pets your head before leaping down from the ledge he stood on.

  You hold on for dear life, digging your claws into his back. Why couldn’t you just stay at home and nap?!

  The mission was short and only for the purpose of gathering information… but you felt like you were either going to be discovered, going to be tossed off Moze’s back, going to die, and become paste on the ground (you will have a long discussion about these leaps of faith once you’re back to normal) through the entire thing.

  He does comfort and give you some nice fish in the aftermath… but you will not be accompanying him again. Lesson learned. Moze didn’t seem disappointed either way, it doesn’t seem that he minded taking you along—you thought he was teaching you a lesson, but he actually just does all that all the time?! You understand his job… but does he have to leap from such high perches??

  As usual, Moze decides to take a bath after the mission, and picks you up… as it to make you join him? You are not going into the water, you accidentally stepped in your water bowl a day ago, you know the feeling that will kill you inside. 

  Near violently thrashing, hissing, meowing and using any display of “PLEASE DON’T PUT ME IN THE WATER” you can, Moze finally lets you go. He hums and touches his chin in thought. “You should clean yourself, then. We got dirty on the mission, you can’t go into bed like that.”

  … clean yourself? Like, licking?

  He must have understood the dumb look you’re giving him (cats do have a distinct “what did you just say to me” look) and shrugs. “Don’t break your own rules.”

  You did set a rule that he had to wash after missions, not that you necessarily had to—Moze is very hygienic, but sometimes…  he is a bit too tired, which is when you would just get up and wash him yourself while he dozes off in the tub. It’s nice.

  … a comfortable memory, but he looks very nonchalantly serious. You do need to clean yourself if you won’t let him toss you in the tub (which you wont). 

  It’s a bit awkward at first, and you hiss at Moze when he stands and watches you—it’s embarrassing enough already!—until he nods and turns to the bathroom… it takes longer than you would have imagined, and also is very meticulous, but eventually you feel much cleaner and better and realise that it wasn’t so bad.

  Happy and feeling lighter, you hop into bed (you’re still faster than it takes Moze to bathe) and curl up… exhausted, you fall asleep immediately, only rousing when the bed dips next to you and Moze strokes along your back for a while, you don't move, feeling very comfortable… until you feel a small bump of a kiss on top of your head, between your now perked ears.

  He lays down properly, on his side as you flop on your back and get comfortable. Despite the uncomfortable instincts to knock things over, and having to groom yourself… sleeping is very comfortable in this body. Or maybe it’s just being next to Moze.

Sunday;

Sunday is lucky if he even gets to have you around. As soon as you’re suddenly a cat, half the Express is suddenly very interested in keeping you to themselves. Of course, March kidnapped you from Sunday’s room the morning after—it gave him a bit of a fright, at first you had suddenly become a cat, now you had disappeared, but he calmed slightly when he saw March putting a bowtie around your neck and dressing you up using some costumes she uses for Pom Pom… you’re quite a bit smaller than Pom Pom, but March makes it work. 

  He finally managed to free you, one might think you’ve just been through some horrors as your claws cling to his clothes and he sets you down on your bed. Sunday tries to calm and assure you, but it takes a while for you to get over the traumatising event until you fall asleep. 

  After being passed around like a plushy, the Express gets over the fact that their fellow member has now become a cat, and instead start pondering how it happened and how to fix it.       Sunday does what he can to research what to do, but he can’t help thinking… you’re very cute like this. Your large eyes that stare at him as he goes back and forth tending to chores on the Express (he decided to handle your as well while you’re in this form), your tail sways when he comes closer and slows when he walks past you. You don’t even notice that he does it deliberately a few times, just because he thinks it’s rather adorable. 

  He also makes sure to take good care of you, even in ways that’s not really necessary, like brushing your fur and making sure there’s no tangles or knots… it does feel very nice, when you loaf on his lap and he drags the brush over your back. 

  Sunday does however try to brush your teeth one time, which becomes a chasing game where you eventually hid in the engine room to avoid him—your teeth are perfectly fine! No need to brush! (There is a need to, but it’s uncomfortable!)

  “...? Why are you—?” you leap into the air, a startled yowl leaving you as Pom Pom is suddenly behind you, they in turn also shout in surprise and your hiding spot is quickly discovered when Himeko comes running to see what was wrong. 

  Sunday did apologise and didn’t try to mess with your teeth again, thankfully. You hopefully won’t be stuck like this for long… would damage even come to your actual teeth? Does damage carry over? Will you be hairier when you return to normal??

  You like to be near Sunday, following him around and watching what he’s doing day around—he doesn’t really know what’s going through your head, but he doesn’t mind you either, you don’t get in his way at all. He stops to pet you occasionally and gives good scratches under your chin, your purring makes him happy that you like to be petted so much by him—especially after Dan Heng’s quite clumsy petting. He meant well, but the patting was effectively smacking on your head a few times. 

  “I much prefer you as normal,” Sunday says as he strokes you from head to swaying tail. “I don’t quite hold the same conversational skills as you do, holding it up by myself is quite difficult.” 

  You wouldn’t say that you’re “conversationally skilled”, it’s rather Sunday that is rather quiet now that he has boarded the Express. Not that he doesn’t want to talk to anyone… he just has much to think about, and your voice takes him out of his head. 

  “Meow for me?” he rubs your right ear. “Even your voice as a small cat sounds like you. I wish to hear it.”

[kckt88]

A Heartbeat Between Us.

Summary:

'Pregnant. Gods, how could she let this happen?

The answer flashed before her mind’s eye—an image of a defined chest, his lean yet muscular form, that sharp, sculpted face. The long silver hair that spilled over his shoulders, a single penetrating blue eye that seemed to look right through her.

And then beneath the clothes and boxers that hid the impressive length and girth of his cock. Y.N felt her throat go dry just thinking about it.

Oh-that’s how it happened.'

Drunken sex with your friends brother, was one thing but getting pregnant with his baby, now that was another matter entirely.

Warning(s): Angst, Drama, Swearing, Alcohol Consumption, Infidelity, Kissing, Oral Sex, Unprocted Sex, P in V, Pregnancy.

AEMOND x Y.N

Word Count: 6048.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated, do not copy/post to other sights without my permission.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @darylandbethfanforever9 @killua2dot0 @msassenach @xcharlottemikaelsonx @moonnicole

Y.N sat on the cold, tiled floor of her bathroom, staring down at the positive pregnancy test in her trembling hand.

"Shit," she muttered under her breath, as she forced herself to stand up, inhaling sharply.

With a flick of her wrist, she tossed the test into the bin, though it was the fourth one she'd taken.

The missed period and constant morning sickness should have been enough of a clue, but no—she had to pee on a stupid plastic stick to truly accept what was happening.

Pregnant. Gods, how could she let this happen?

The answer flashed before her mind’s eye—an image of a defined chest, his lean yet muscular form, that sharp, sculpted face. The long silver hair that spilled over his shoulders, a single penetrating blue eye that seemed to look right through her.

And then beneath the clothes and boxers that hid the impressive length and girth of his cock. Y.N felt her throat go dry just thinking about it.

Oh- so that’s how it happened.

Neither of them had planned it. Blame the alcohol, the pent up lust, and the heat of the moment.

Still, it had been incredible, regardless of the consequences. A frustrated groan escaped her as she left the bathroom, wandering into her bedroom.

Her gaze fell to the bed, the same bed they’d writhed together on, naked and slick with sweat as he drove her over the edge again and again. She bit her lip as the memory of his hands, his mouth, sent a wave of heat through her.

Shaking her head, Y.N yanked on an oversized cardigan, trying to ignore the way her body reacted to the memory of him.

She needed to focus, to distract herself. Her feet carried her to the kitchen, where a pile of dishes awaited her. But instead of starting to wash them, her eyes landed on a photograph—her and Jacaerys.

Her ex-boyfriend.

She sighed, her chest tightening. They had broken up four months ago, but Jace had called her just two days ago, wanting to work things out.

Y.N's lips pressed together as she picked up the photo, staring at it for a moment before placing it face down on the counter.

Well, that wasn’t going to happen now.

Rubbing her hands over her face, she leaned against the counter. She knew what had to be done—first, she needed to make an appointment with the midwives.

Then, she needed to tell him. The father.

Gods, please don’t let him be an insufferable prick about it.

He had a tendency, didn’t he? Even though he’d changed since their school days, there was still a part of him that could be-difficult.

Her mind then betrayed her again, a flash of him working her body, bringing her to pieces with his tongue.

Y.N whimpered at the memory, her body trembling.

But this wasn’t the time for that.

She grabbed her phone, ignoring the sudden, nagging throb of need that lingered in her belly.

No, this was real now.

She dialled the number for the midwives office, steadying her breath as she booked an appointment for tomorrow.

The rest-well, that would have to come after.

The next day, Y.N sat in the waiting room of her local midwife centre, glancing around at the pastel-coloured walls and floral décor.

Boredom began to seep in as the minutes dragged by. The distant cries of babies echoed through the air, pulling her from her thoughts. She turned her head, catching a glimpse of a mother soothing a newborn, and despite everything, a warm, happy smile spread across her face.

"Y.N?" A stern voice interrupted her daydream.

Snapping to attention, Y.N stood up and followed the sour-looking midwife down a narrow corridor, her footsteps echoing off the linoleum floor. She was directed into a much warmer, cozier room, where the atmosphere softened.

"Good morning," a kindly midwife greeted her, adjusting her glasses as she stood beside a small ultrasound machine.

Y.N took a deep breath and stepped inside, her nerves prickling beneath her skin.

The midwife smiled kindly, beckoning her to sit. "When was your last period?" the woman asked gently, her pen hovering over a clipboard.

Y.N stared down at her hands, fidgeting with her fingers in her lap. "I-I don’t really remember-" she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

The midwife reached out, patting her shoulder reassuringly. "No matter, we’ll get a clearer picture. Let’s take a look, shall we?"

With a nervous nod, Y.N moved to the examination bed, pulling up her shirt and exposing her stomach.

She bit her lip, her anxiety bubbling as the midwife spread warm gel over her abdomen.

The midwife began moving the device across her stomach, her eyes fixed on the monitor. For a few moments, there was silence, the room filled only by the soft hum of the machine. Then suddenly, a faint but strong sound filled the air—a tiny, fluttering heartbeat.

Y.N sat up straighter, her eyes wide as they darted to the screen. There, amidst the blurry black and white image, was her child. Her child.

The sound washed over her, and without warning, tears welled up in her eyes. They slipped down her cheeks before she could stop them, happiness engulfing her in a way she hadn’t expected. It was the most incredible sound, the most undeniable proof that this was real.

"Everything looks good," the midwife said confidently, tapping a few buttons on the machine. "Nice strong heartbeat-I’d say that you’re roughly eight weeks pregnant."

Eight weeks. The child-was definitely his.

She managed a small, trembling smile, still trying to process the flood of emotions swirling inside her.

The midwife froze the image on the screen, printing out a picture and handing Y.N a tissue to wipe the gel from her skin.

Then she scribbled something on a notepad and tore off the page, handing it to her along with the ultrasound photo.

"You’ll need to come in every other month so we can monitor the pregnancy and see how things progress." The midwife smiled kindly again, pushing the paper into Y.N’s trembling hand.

“O-Ok” muttered Y.N

"Take this to the front desk, and they’ll schedule your next appointment."

"Thank you," Y.N mumbled quickly, her voice barely steady as she stood and made her way out of the room.

She paused in the hallway, staring down at the ultrasound scan she now held in her hands. There it was—a tiny figure. In black and white, undeniable proof.

She was really pregnant.

Y.N sat on her sofa, the weight of the day pressing down on her as she stared at the ultrasound picture in her hand.

A baby was growing inside her.

Her heart swelled with emotions she hadn't expected, a sudden surge that consumed her entirely.

She had never felt anything like this before—this fierce, protective love. It was as if her entire being had shifted, realigned with this new reality. Every fibre of her body already wanted this child, with a depth and intensity that stunned her.

The father deserved to know, of course. It wasn’t even a question. But as she sat there, staring at the picture, Y.N made a decision.

She wasn’t going to force anything out of him. If he wanted to be involved, then he would have to choose that path himself.

Exhaling, Y.N sank deeper into the sofa, pulling her legs up beneath her as her eyes flitted over to the magazine that lay on her coffee table.

There he was, arm draped around his girlfriend—a dark-haired, older woman dressed in designer finery, the picture of elegance and wealth.

And he—clad in a perfectly tailored suit that moulded itself to his lithe, muscular frame—looked every bit the part of someone whose life was wrapped in perfection.

He was part of the Targaryen dynasty, one of the wealthiest families around. He and his half-sister Rhaenyra had taken over Targaryen Inc. after their father Viserys had passed away and Aegon, his older brother, had refused to step up, content to live off his inheritance.

Y.N’s lips pressed together as she wondered, for what felt like the hundredth time, how he would react to the news. Would he embrace it? Take responsibility? Or would he ignore it, pretend it didn’t exist?

Their lives were already so different, so far apart from where they’d started. Whatever happened, whatever choice he made, there was no denying that their lives were about to spiral into a whirlwind neither of them had expected.

She pulled a blanket around herself, snuggling deeper into its warmth as she closed her eyes, letting herself drift back to the night it all started.

It had started at Helaena’s flat, where Y.N was nervously tugging at the hem of her dress, glancing at herself in the mirror. “Do you think this dress looks okay?” she asked, turning to Helaena, who was adjusting her own makeup at the vanity.

Helaena smiled warmly, “You look beautiful, Y.N. Seriously. You have nothing to worry about.”

Y.N sighed, feeling a knot of anxiety twist in her stomach. “Sorry, I’m just nervous. I haven’t been clubbing since before I was dating Jace, and now that we’re over-” She trailed off, biting her lip. “-I’ve heard he’s seeing someone new. A girl named Sara”

Helaena waved her hand dismissively. “Forget about him. Tonight isn’t about arsehole ex-boyfriends.”

Y.N raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Isn’t he your nephew?”

Helaena smirked back, her eyes twinkling mischievously. “Exactly, which is why I’m perfectly entitled to call him an arsehole. Now come on, let’s go enjoy ourselves.”

Y.N nodded, feeling the tension lift slightly as she followed Helaena out of the flat. They ended up at a club called Dragon’s Den, a pulsing, neon-lit space that buzzed with energy.

After an hour of drinks and dancing, the alcohol had finally started to work its magic. Y.N’s nerves faded away, replaced by a light, heady feeling of freedom.

“Oh, look,” Helaena waved excitedly, “-My brothers have finally arrived-took them long enough"

Y.N turned and her breath caught in her throat.

Lord almighty.

Aegon, the eldest, was grinning widely as he weaved through the crowd, his bubbly and cheerful demeanour making him instantly noticeable. Then there was Daeron, the youngest, with his hypnotic blue eyes and infectious smile, the picture of youthful charm.

But it was the man trailing behind them, cutting through the crowd with a quiet intensity, who made her heart stutter.

Aemond.

His silver hair was tied back, revealing the sharp, angular lines of his face, the eyepatch only adding to his dark allure.

Gods, did he always look that good?

Y.N mentally kicked herself. Damn it, what the hell was wrong with her? Clearly, the alcohol was clouding her senses, making her thoughts wander.

But when they locked eyes over the dancing crowd, and he smirked—that smug, knowing smirk—and something stirred inside her.

She forced herself to smile back half-heartedly and then, defiantly, turned her back on him.

Y.N threw back her drink, requesting another when she felt a gentle tap on her shoulder. Turning around, she was met with Daeron’s beaming face, his gorgeous blue eyes crinkled in the corners.

“Good to see you, Y.N.” He kissed her hand in a playful, old-fashioned gesture.

“Daeron, how have you been?” she asked, though her attention briefly flickered to the man across the floor still watching her intently.

“I’ve been good, thanks for asking,” Daeron replied cheerfully, his fingers still holding hers. “Would you like to dance?”

Y.N glanced at Helaena, who gave her a subtle nod of encouragement. Looking back at Daeron’s hand, she replied politely, “Yes, I’d like to dance.”

Daeron beamed, leading her onto the dance floor. His hand on her waist pulled her close as they swayed to the rhythm of the music, and they fell into easy conversation, his charm and humour quickly making her laugh. For a brief moment, Y.N felt light, carefree.

But then, a voice—low, sultry, and cutting—sliced through the noise.

“Do you mind if I cut in?”

Daeron smirked, stepping back slightly as he glanced at Y.N. “It’s up to her,” he said with a shrug.

Y.N turned, and there he was—Aemond, standing tall, his intense gaze fixed on her. He extended a hand, his interest undeniable.

Without hesitation, Y.N let out a small laugh and took his hand.

“-Arse” she heard Daeron mutter as he moved away from them.

Aemond’s fingers brushed against her skin as he pulled her close, closer than she had been to Daeron. His body was firm against hers, his hand resting possessively at the small of her back.

“Look at you” said Aemond, his voice thick with something more than just amusement.

She looked up at him, refusing to back down. “I saw you looking earlier”

“You were always pretty, but tonight-you’re stunning-”

Y.N laughed softly. “I thought I was annoying and insufferable—or at least, that’s what you used to say to me back in school.”

Aemond’s eye gleamed with amusement. “Clearly, things have changed.”

Tilting her head, Y.N smirked. “How’s your grandma? I mean, Alys?”

Aemond let out a deep laugh, shaking his head. “She's with Larys in America.”

Her eyes traced the lines of his neck, landing on his lips. “So-that explains your attention tonight?”

He let one hand go and tipped her chin up, staring into her flustered face. “I’ve always appreciated a beautiful woman.”

Then, leaning in, his breath hot against her ear, he whispered, “And you are beautiful.”

After two more songs, with Aemond's hand firmly guiding her across the dance floor, Y.N could feel the tension between them growing, the air charged with something far more than just the rhythm of the music.

His touch was deliberate, the way he held her close to his body unmistakable, and her pulse quickened every time he looked down at her, his intense gaze burning into her skin.

As the last song ended, Aemond leaned down, his breath warm against her ear. “Let me buy you a drink,” he offered, his voice smooth and low.

Y.N nodded, trying to keep her composure as they made their way to the bar. The crowd around them seemed to blur, the music fading into the background as she focused on the man standing beside her.

As soon as they reached the bar, he gestured to the bartender and ordered two drinks.

“How are things with you and my nephew?” Aemond asked casually, leaning on the counter as he turned to face her.

Y.N let out a dry laugh, downing her drink in one swift motion, grimacing at the sharp taste of alcohol burning down her throat.

“There is no me and Jace” she said, her voice tinged with bitterness. “Not anymore. He was with some girl from up north called Sara”

Aemond huffed in response, his lips curling into a slight smirk. “His loss,” he said simply, as he downed his whiskey with ease. He ordered another round for the both of them, and Y.N couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at him.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” she asked, her tone laced with curiosity. “I thought you hated me.”

Aemond scoffed, setting his empty glass down on the bar. “I don’t hate you, Y.N. I never did.”

Y.N blinked in surprise. “Could’ve fooled me,” she muttered. “So why act like you did?”

Aemond’s jaw tightened as he poured the truth out, more candid than she’d ever seen him. “I was a prick,” he admitted, a rare look of vulnerability flashing in his eye. “Too scared to act on how I felt, so I pushed you away. It was easier to be a bastard than to admit I was attracted to you.”

Her eyes widened at his words, genuinely surprised by his honesty. Aemond wasn’t exactly known for wearing his emotions on his sleeve.

“I’m-surprised you’re being this open,” she said, her lips curving into a small smile. “You’re usually all stoic and reserved. Like no one ever really knows what’s going on inside that head of yours.”

He smirked again, the edge of his lips curling into a half smile. “I’ve changed since you last saw me,” he replied, his voice softer than before.

Y.N studied him for a moment, and she had to admit that there was something different about him now.

Something more relaxed, more assured. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but it was clear that this wasn’t the same Aemond she’d known back in school.

The same Aemond who teased her, the same Aemond she once had a crush on.

She smiled, downing the rest of her drink as her mind began to feel delightfully fuzzy from the alcohol.

She was vaguely aware of Aemond ordering another drink, but before it arrived, she leaned toward him, her words slurring just slightly. “I’ve got more drinks back at my flat.”

Aemond looked at her for a moment, then grinned, a glint of something dangerous flickering in his eye. “Then let’s go.”

Without hesitation, he took her hand, his fingers warm and firm around hers as he led her away from the bar. They weaved through the crowd, Y.N barely registering the other people around them as she focused on Aemond’s touch, the way his hand didn’t let go, even for a second.

He shouted over to Aegon, something about leaving, but she barely heard it.

The next thing she knew, they were stepping outside into the cool night air, the noise of the club fading into the background as they hailed a taxi.

Y.N’s heart pounded in her chest, and she felt a rush of excitement—something reckless, something wild—course through her veins as they climbed into the back seat together.

The taxi ride was a blur, the tension between them thickening with every passing second. Y.N could feel Aemond’s gaze on her, the heat between them unmistakable. As they pulled up to her flat, she glanced at him, and in that moment, she knew there was no turning back.

Y.N fumbled with her keys, her hands shaking slightly as she finally managed to unlock the door. She pushed it open and turned to Aemond, stepping aside to let him in.

"It's not much, but it's home," she said, her voice a little breathless as she closed the door behind them.

Aemond hummed in response, his eye scanning the flat. He didn’t say much, just let his gaze drift around the room, but Y.N could feel the tension building, thick and heavy between them.

“So-what would you like to drink?” she asked, turning to him with a slight smile, trying to keep things light even though her heart was pounding in her chest.

Aemond’s gaze flicked to hers, his blue eye intense and unwavering. “We both know I didn’t come here for a drink,” he said, his voice low and sultry.

Before she could respond, his hand slid to the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her hair as he pulled her toward him.

His lips crashed against hers, and she let out a soft gasp of surprise before melting into the kiss. It was hungry, desperate—his lips moving over hers like he’d been waiting for this moment far longer than either of them could have admitted.

Y.N’s hands roamed his shoulders, before slipping off his jacket and then tugging at the buttons of his shirt.

Aemond’s hands were equally impatient, slipping round her back and partially unzipping her dress, his fingers grazing against her skin, sending sparks of heat through her body.

Between kisses, his voice was low and gravelly, “Bedroom.”

Y.N pulled back just enough to nod, her breath shaky. “This way,” she whispered, taking his hand and leading him down the short hallway to her room.

The moment they stepped inside, the tension that had been building between them snapped, and Aemond was back on her.

His hands cupped her face, pulling her into another searing kiss, and Y.N moaned into his mouth as she felt his long fingers sliding up the back of her neck and into her hair.

“I-I want to see you” muttered Y.N softly.

Aemond slipped his fingers under the strap of his eyepatch and pulled it from his head.

Y.N stood silent she stared at the scar the bisected his cheek, extending through his eyebrow. The sapphire that he’d placed in the eye socket, glinted in the moonlight.

“You are-so-beautiful” whispered Y.N as she leaned forward and placed a number of kisses along his scarred cheek and over the sapphire.

Aemond closed his eye in delight at the tender gesture, a contented sigh escaping his lips.

“Hmmm” rasped Aemond as he ran his thumb over Y.N’s bottom lip, his eye going wide as she opened her mouth and nipped at his thumb before sucking it into her mouth.

“Please-“ moaned Y.N

Aemond’s gaze locked onto hers, his eye dark with desire. "You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this," he whispered, his voice rough, filled with a mix of longing and restraint.

Y.N’s heart pounded in her chest as she reached for him, pulling him closer. "Then don’t stop," she whispered back, her voice soft but urgent.

Wasting no time, he pulled Y.N to him, his lips once again claiming hers.

He put his arm around her waist and kissed her passionately, deepening the kiss as she moaned into his mouth. His tongue pushing against hers.

Y.N ran her fingers across his lithe body. His muscles rippled under her fingertips.

She finished unbuttoning the white shirt he wore, placing feathery kisses on his sparsely haired chest as the shirt was removed.

Her fingers toying with the silver cross chain he wore.

Groaning against her creamy smooth skin, he kissed her neck, sucking on the delicate flesh as she leaned into him, enjoying his every touch.

Her dress felt heavy on her. She wanted to be rid of it. She wanted to feel his skin on hers. She reluctantly broke free of his embrace and turned her back to him moving her hair out of the way.

His fingers trembled as he grasped the zip to her dress and pulled it the rest of the way down, the sound echoed through the quiet apartment, and he pressed his lips to the back of her neck.

Using his long fingers, he freed her from the confinements of her dress, and it fell to join his shirt on the floor.

She wasn’t wearing a bra, which seemed to excite him.

Goosebumps appeared where his fingers moved over her. Cupping her ample breasts from behind, Aemond pulled Y.N against his chest. Burying himself in the crook of her neck, sucking on the skin whilst his fingers massaged the soft mounds and played with her hardened nipples.

Aemond turned her to face him. Kissing her again, he trailed kisses down her body and took a rosy nipple in his mouth. Sucking on the bud, he bit down lightly, earning a low moan from deep within her.

He continued his actions on the other breast and kissed past her stomach until he knelt before her. Her fingers in his hair tightened as he ran the tips of his fingers from her stomach down to her core.

Slowly he grasped the lace of her knickers and ripped them from her, pressing the ruined material to his nose and inhaling her scent before standing up.

Y.N reached forward to undo the buttons on his trousers, then she directed him backwards towards the bed.

Her fingers stroked his body, not missing an inch of flesh, admiring the way his muscles twitched under her touch.

Biting down on her lip, she knelt between his legs, and pulled his trousers and boxers down his shapely legs and threw them on the floor.

Gods. His cock. It was impressive.

Y.N wanted to put it in her mouth, to taste him, but before she could, Aemond leaned forward and pulled her onto the bed.

He covered her body with his as he sucked and licked at the delicate skin of her neck, leaving red marks in his wake.

Y.N moved her head to the side and moaned loudly as she felt Aemond’s teeth nipping at her skin.

Ooo A-Aemond” exclaimed Y.N as he moved down her body, nibbling her at her skin as he went.

“Such a pretty pussy " breathed Aemond, spitting on her pussy before he ran the flat of his tongue up her soaked slit, from bottom to the top, tasting her.

“Oh, my god” moaned Y.N her eyes rolling into the back of her head.

“That’s it my sweet. Let me hear you”. 

“YES! It feels so good. Don’t stop. Aemond. Please” begged Y.N.

"Delicious" purred Aemond as he began lapping at Y.N, running his tongue along every fold.

"More" panted Y.N. "Please. I need more”.

Aemond inserted two fingers, sliding them in and out of her slick wet folds.

“Oh, fuck" whimpered Y.N; her chest heaving.

 Aemond’s fingers were soaking wet as they continued to pump in and out of her tight heat.

“I can’t wait to get my cock inside you. I don’t want to wait any longer, come for me baby,” moaned Aemond, his face pressed between her shaking thighs.

Y.N arched  her back and screamed as her climax washed over her.

Aemond pumped slowly and lapped at her centre as she squirted all over his face.

“P-Please A-Aemond. Need you” begged Y.N.

Aemond rose to his knees, his chin shining with her slick, he smirked as he swiped his fingers over his chin and then placed them in his mouth.

Aemond moved up Y.N’s body pausing to grasp hold of her left breast as he ran his tongue over the rosy nipple, his teeth grazing the stiffened peak.

“Oh-yes“ gasped Y.N, as he moved to the other breast and lavished it with the same attention.

Aemond then grabbed her around the waist and manoeuvred her body on top of his.

“I want you to ride me-” exclaimed Aemond as he lined up his cock with her entrance and sheathed himself inside her with one hard thrust.

Y.N moaned as Aemond withdrew and entered into her repeatedly.

Faster and faster. Harder and deeper, his fingers digging into the flesh of her hips.

"Please don't stop," cried out Y.N

"I have no intention of stopping" growled Aemond, his feet planted firmly on the bed to allow him to increase the intensity of his thrusts.

A satisfied smile spread across his face as he quickened and angled his movements, so his cock rubbed on that special place inside her.

Aemond seemed mesmerized by the sight of her breasts bouncing in front of him as he surged forward, his mouth wrapping around one rosy bud.

His teeth and tongue teasing the stiffened peak.

“Gods-yes Aemond” shrieked Y.N as she bounced on his cock, her hands coiled in is long silver hair.

“That’s it baby-take it-take all of me” growled Aemond leaning back as he moved Y.N’s hips in time with his thrusts.

“Oh gods-” wailed Y.N.

“That’s it-FUCK Y.N” groaned Aemond as he took hold of her and quickly manoeuvred her onto her back, his cock never leaving the warm wetness of her as he began to pound into her, the sounds of skin slapping on skin echoing around her bedroom.

“P-Please Aemond. Don’t stop. Don’t stop-“ whimpered Y.N.

“Come for me baby-come for me” growled Aemond as he felt her clenching around him.

“AEMOND” screamed Y.N as she exploded, her nails digging into his back.

Aemond held back for as long as he could, but his release was upon him.

With a final hard thrust, he spilled rope after rope of his seed.

He muffled his groans into her mouth as she hung onto him, kissing him fervently.

She held him close to her body, whispering words of comfort and satisfaction while running her fingers down his back.

Y.N was startled awake by a loud, insistent banging on the door. She groaned, rubbing her eyes, still groggy from falling asleep on the sofa.

Straightening her oversized cardigan, she walked over to the door, her heart skipping a beat as she wondered who could be knocking this late.

When she opened the door, she found Jace standing there, his face a mix of uncertainty and determination. “Can I come in?” he asked, his voice tense but soft.

Y.N hesitated for a moment, her mind racing. The last thing she expected was to see Jace at her doorstep.

But eventually, she pushed the door open wider, allowing him to step inside. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead—a gesture that made her stomach churn with discomfort—and she shut the door behind him.

Watching him as he walked around her flat, his eyes scanning the room as if searching for answers, she could feel the weight of his presence growing heavier.

He finally settled on the sofa, looking up at her. "What do you want, Jace?" she asked, crossing her arms as she stood a few feet away.

He patted the space next to him, signalling for her to sit. Reluctantly, she did, keeping her distance.

"I've been thinking about what you said before we broke up," he began, his tone measured, "and I realize now that having a solid commitment is a good idea. I wasn’t ready before, but I’ve been thinking—about us, about our future. I want to fix things. Maybe even-get married."

Y.N’s heart clenched, panic flooding her chest. Before she could stop herself, she blurted out, "I can't marry you, Jace. I-I'm pregnant."

The words hung in the air, and Jace froze, his expression shifting from surprise to confusion. He blinked a few times before a smile broke through. “That’s-that’s wonderful news,” he said, reaching out to take her hand.

But Y.N quickly pulled her hand back, steeling herself for what came next. “It’s not yours,” she whispered.

Jace's smile evaporated, replaced by pure shock. His eyes widened as the realization hit him. "What? You-cheated on me?"

Y.N bristled at the accusation. “We were broken up, Jace. It wasn’t cheating.”

Jace stood, pacing the small living room, running a hand through his hair as his temper flared. “And you think that makes it okay? After everything—who is it, Y.N? Who’s the father?”

She crossed her arms defensively. “I can’t tell you that. Not yet.”

Jace’s fists clenched. His voice grew louder, his words biting. “I’ll find out. And when I do, I swear I’ll beat the shit out of him.”

Y.N couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her lips, a short, incredulous sound at the absurdity of it.

The thought of Jace going after Aemond, who would undoubtedly destroy him in any confrontation, was almost too much to handle.

“You think this is funny?” he snapped, his face red with anger.

“No, I think you’re being ridiculous,” she shot back. “We were broken up. You don’t get to be mad about this. And let’s not forget, you went off with Sara right after we ended things. So, it’s okay for you to go and stick it in someone else, but I can’t have a one-night stand?”

Jace’s face twisted in frustration, his voice breaking as he snarled, “That was a mistake! I—"

Y.N cut him off. “Well, so was this. But it happened. And now I’m pregnant, and I haven’t even told the father yet. So, I’d appreciate it if you kept this to yourself until I do.”

Jace’s face fell into a mixture of anger and disbelief. “I know him, don’t I?”

Y.N hesitated, then nodded. There was no point in lying.

Jace’s fury bubbled over as he shouted, “How could you do this?!” His voice echoed through the flat, the tension palpable.

Y.N had had enough. Her body tensed as she stood, glaring at him with cold resolve. “Jace. I’m done, I want you to leave”

“Y.N-”

“Please leave,” said Y.N firmly.

Jace’s anger wavered, replaced by a sad, desperate look as he moved towards the door, his hand on the handle.

“Is it really over? Is there no chance for us?”

Y.N’s eyes softened, but she didn’t falter.  “It’s over Jace. It’s for the best.”

Tears welled in his eyes as he nodded, slowly opening the door and stepping out into the hallway. He paused, his back still turned to her, before disappearing into the night without another word.

Y.N shut the door quietly behind him, her heart heavy but certain she had made the right choice.

The next morning, Y.N stood in front of her wardrobe, pulling out outfit after outfit, nerves rattling through her body.

She wasn’t sure why it mattered so much, but every choice felt wrong. After trying on a casual dress, then jeans, and a sweater, she finally settled on a smart skirt and blouse.

She wanted to look put together—not too formal, but not too relaxed either. After all, she was about to deliver life-changing news.

Her fingers trembled as she brushed her hair and applied light makeup, glancing at herself in the mirror.

She couldn’t stop thinking about how Aemond would react. But one thing was certain: no matter his response, this baby was hers. She was determined to protect and love this child with or without him.

Finally, after a last glance at her reflection, she grabbed her handbag and headed out the door. She hailed a taxi and gave the driver the address for Targaryen Inc.

As the car wove through the busy city streets, her heart raced. She rehearsed what she would say, but each scenario in her head ended differently. She sighed, leaning her head against the window.

The towering skyscraper of Targaryen Inc. loomed ahead, sleek and modern with reflective glass panels stretching toward the sky. She paid the driver, stepped out, and took a deep breath before walking into the grand lobby.

The building was immaculate, with marble floors and chic modern décor. It exuded wealth and power—much like the man she was here to see.

"Good morning, how can I help you?" the receptionist asked with a welcoming smile.

“I’m here to see Aemond Targaryen,” Y.N replied, her voice calm though her insides were twisting.

The receptionist gave a polite nod and directed her to take the lift to the 20th floor. "Someone will assist you there," she said, gesturing toward the sleek elevators at the far end of the lobby.

Y.N thanked her and walked toward the lift, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor. Once inside, she pressed the button for the 20th floor and clasped her hands tightly around the buckle of her handbag.

The quiet music in the lift did little to ease her growing anxiety. She glanced at the floor numbers ticking upward, willing her heart to steady. This was it.

When the lift doors slid open, Y.N stepped out into an elegant office floor. The air smelled faintly of expensive cologne, and the space was immaculately designed—sharp, minimalistic, and cold.

A haughty-looking woman with perfect posture greeted her at a sleek desk.

“Can I help you?” the woman asked, her tone professional yet distant.

“I’m here to see Aemond Targaryen,” Y.N said, mustering her confidence, even as her fingers fidgeted nervously with her handbag again.

The woman raised an eyebrow and looked her up and down, clearly assessing her. “Do you have an appointment?” she asked, flipping through the pages of a file on her desk.

Y.N hesitated for a moment before replying, “No, but I’m an old friend. I’m sure Aemond will make time to see me.”

The woman pursed her lips, her fingers pausing over the file. “Let me see if Mr. Targaryen is available.”

She asked for Y.N.’s name, and she told her, watching as the woman nodded and picked up the phone.

Y.N’s stomach twisted as she took a seat in the waiting area, glancing around at the perfectly curated space.

A few tense minutes passed before the woman called out to her.

“Mr. Targaryen will see you now,”

TBC.

[conflictofthemind]

Lucas knows about Mike and Will

First off, of course the context is needed that Lucas has known the two of them the longest out of any of the kids. He is Mike’s neighbour and joined their party even before Dustin. He also played wingman for Mike previously in S3, trying to help get Mike and Eleven back together. It’s not a stretch of the imagination that Lucas would end up in a role like that again.

So, the hospital scene at the end of Season 4.

There’s a few things within this scene that are a little suspicious, and then one big thing that basically has no explanation other than Lucas suspecting something is going on with Mike. I brightened the scene here- first let’s just acknowledge they held hands on Lucas’ back. This is the only kind of direct hand touch we get this season.

Lucas can’t see that.. but it’s on his back. Of course he would be able to feel it. It’s also another moment that separates Mike and Will as a pair, versus Eleven on her own. Here’s the full clip below. And then just LOOK at the expression Lucas gives Mike after he sees El lingering behind. Your friend just visited as soon as he possibly could to give you support. Why would you look at them like this after he hugs you? Because he knows there’s something weird going on in the relationship between Mike and El. No other explanation.

Lucas is clearly giving Mike a “what the fuck is going on” kind of expression, eye squinted, eyebrows furrowed. There’s also a blink and you’ll miss it moment where Mike’s breath catches after the contact with Will’s hand, and he makes a split second glance to look at their hands (which I captured in the first image).

Then after Lucas hugs El, he clearly parts and steps back to give room for Mike to join beside his girlfriend. But Mike crosses the room to put himself in between El and Will instead. Another thing Lucas would have found weird. Lucas isn’t dumb.

Then we have the shotlisting post from Ross’ instagram. Shot listing is where they plan out what happens within an episode and what kinds of shots they want. This image is obviously an Easter Egg for fans about who’s interacting with who in the first 2 episodes (ie Stonathan shenanigans of which we already know about). I didn’t see it at first but Lucas is clearly placed in the centre of a triangle between El, Mike, and Will. He’s the centre of the triangle.

This makes sense with what we know about S5 thus far as well. There’s a confirmed plot line that has Dustin trying to isolate himself from the rest of the group (if he hasn’t already been isolated enough from the party in recent seasons). It shows up in the shot list image too of course, with Dustin on the opposite side. For the kids, due to Max being out of commission, the only interactions we are going to get in the first two episodes before the time jump seem to be between El, Will, Mike, and Lucas. We also have confirmation from Millie that El and Lucas will be spending a lot more time together than they had in previous seasons.

Moving onto a bit of cornplating for the last points which just serve as some cherries on top of this theory - we already have imagery of Lucas acting as a bridge between Mike and Will in the party image Ross gave us. This is post time jump most likely because of the new outfits, so it’s interesting that this role could continue throughout the season.

We also have the imagery of Lucas holding a suspiciously coloured blue and yellow shield in Will’s painting of the party. A bit of a stretch, sure. But complied with everything else it is definitely interesting to consider.

Now for the character reasoning, which is always important to consider: why would Lucas end up in this position?

Lucas is going through his girlfriend being in a coma after they had a major distance in their relationship. A coma that Lucas in universe has no clue if she’ll ever wake up from, and realistically (in-universe) hopes are slim that she will recover. And if she does, she may not have all the memories of times spent together still with her. There’s probably so many regrets swirling around his mind of things he could have done or said in the time that they had together. Lucas doesn’t have this luxury - but his friends still do.

Lucas is Mike’s oldest friend outside of Will, and Will/Mike are Lucas’ first friends. They existed as a party even before Dustin.

Out of his pain of ‘losing’ Max and the wisdom he learned from it, I really do think Lucas is going to encourage Mike to seize the day and take control of his life once again. Will and Mike still have the luxury of time and still have chance. If anyone could convince Mike his feelings are reciprocal, it would also be Lucas.

Furthermore, Lucas understands that as a black man in fairly rural 80s Indiana, his relationship with Max is also one that is singled out due to prejudice against interracial couples. Interracial marriage would only have been legalized less than twenty years ago. It’s not quite the same, but again if anyone understood the position Mike would be in (other than say Robin) - it would be Lucas.

[ramp-it-up]

Sugar, Cubed

Photo found on Pinterest

Summary: I revisited Sugar and the boys from the Sugar is Sweet séries, and let me tell you. Bucky and Steve sure have grown up from their college days. They are no longer playing around. And they are coming for you. How do you choose? And do you have to?

Word Count: 3.5K

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader; Bucky Barnes x Reader; boss Tony Stark x reader

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Not Beta’d. Read at your own risk. Roommate/Co-worker au, S MUT! Angst, little bit of slow burn. Main character injury, allusions to sex, sexual tension, indecent proposal, caught between two lovers trope, idiots in love, Tony being Tony, truth or dare, talk of voyeruism, possibility of group sex, eventual polyandry.

A/N: This is related to the Sugar is Sweet au, but can be read alone. This is part one, part two will be posted next week. I hope you like it. This is part of Falloween 2024.

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

——

You met the two most hated men in your life while you were living together as recipients of the prestigious Stark STEM Fellowship at NYU.

There was an instant spark when you met James Buchanan Barnes and Steven Grant Rogers, best friends from childhood. They sarcastically named you Sugar because of your initial rudeness, but the nickname just stuck around after you warmed up to them.

In the Stark Fellows program, life was hard work and hard play. Soon it was down to just you, Bucky and Steve, and life was a dream with parties, booze, and almost anything you wanted, as long as you lent your minds to the work.

Tony Stark tolerated anything that would keep productivity high. He knew that all work and no play would make Bucky, Sugar and Steve dull scientists.

So he encouraged you three to play. And funded it too.

Steve and Bucky were so protective of you, their sweet Sugar. The sexual tension that came with living with them was heady stuff.

You basked in the glow of Bucky and Steve's attention, while observant of the lines of partners at their bedroom doors and the competitiveness between the football quarterback and lacrosse captain.

You swore that neither Bucky nor Steve would ever win you, no matter the plays they made. But they each had you sprung in different ways. And they were so damn competitive.

They both wanted your heart.

It was only a matter of time before you gave it to each of them.

You fell hard for Bucky first. And it was urgent and intense.

But after just a year together, Bucky accepted a position with Stark Labs in Bucharest for a term that stretched into two years as he completed grad school at Politehnica. It happened without warning. You were angry at his choice and trapped in New York by your own contract with Stark for graduate work. 

You and Bucky were over. And you were heartbroken.

Steve’s waiting arms were open, and it was effortless and freeing to realize that the golden boy was the one who truly loved you. And he’d always been there. Your heart healed. You thought.

According to social media, Bucky seemed to love his new location, extending his contract beyond the initial year-long contract to finish his degree. It seemed that all he did was work.

Not that you were stalking his IG or anything.

He didn’t communicate with you directly, and with Steve only intermittently. It was like he’d erased his best friend and his best girl from his life. 

It made sense, since his best girl was now his best friend’s girl.

Then, during his second year, Bucky's stay in Romania was cut short,  he came back to New York, although not in the way you imagined.

Bucky had been critically injured; losing a limb. Tony made sure he had the best care, flying with Bucky to Wakanda for experimental surgery and overseeing his recovery. 

You found out via a social media after Bucky was back in town, and not from Tony or anyone else.

You were livid.

You raged at Steve, who had lied to you that he had to go to London for two weeks for work when he was actually in Wakanda at Bucky’s bedside.

The betrayal ran deep.

You and Steve were done after that, although you continued to work side by side at the labs. You felt as if Tony was trying to drive you over the edge, having you work around the clock with your ex. But he didn’t care. He had some insane theory that the tension would yield better results.

Each day, you longed for the hour that you could go to your posh new quarters in Stark tower. Although it was lonely, at least your apartment was private, and you could unwind in peace. Your days were tense, but predictable.

Until they weren’t anymore.

——

One afternoon, the hairs on the back of your neck stood up as you stared into the monitor to watch the results from the latest compound analysis roll numbers across your workstation.

“Hey there, Sugar.”

You froze, looking up and out over Manhattan through the window above your station. You couldn’t believe it, but you saw a pale reflection of him in the mirrored glass.

You slowly turned around.

Bucky looked good, his pale complexion not all the result of the blue gray skies over the Hudson. His face had grown more angular, his hair was shorter, and his eyes seemed older, but outside, he was the same Bucky. 

You didn’t know what you were expecting. 

Bucky Barnes seemed whole, except his left hand, the “golden arm” that was the pride of Bobcat football, was now black and gold metal. 

Vibranium. 

You stared at it as it reached for you.

“So I don’t get a hug?” 

Your eyes moved to his face while Steve cleared his throat and reminded you that he was there. You tried to forget his existence most days, but Bucky walking into your lab had erased him from your mind completely. For a moment.

“Sugar–”

You cut him off.

“Fuck you, Grant.” 

You looked back at Bucky with tears in your eyes.

“And fuck you, James.”

Despite your epithets, you threw yourself into his arms, sobbing with emotion.

“How could you…?”

You whispered it into his suit coat, your fingers digging into the material at his back as you cried into his shoulder. Bucky held you tight against him, and he felt harder, more solid. 

You realized that under all of the anger and hurt, you were mainly just relieved that he was alive.

Over two years of anxiety and unprocessed feelings were coming out, and Bucky rocked you as your body heaved. Steve came up behind you and hugged you both.

For a minute you relished the feeling, being held by the only two men that you ever had feelings for. You felt safe. But then you remembered the secrets and the lies, and anger flooded you again. You twisted out of their grasp.

“Don’t get any ideas, assholes.”

You moved away from them and wrapped your arms around yourself, suddenly cold.

“Do you know how worried I was? No one gave me any information. At all. I had to find out from social media. I felt like a fool, Bucky.”

You scowled at him.

“And you. You knew that, Cap. And you lied to my fucking face.”

You glared at Steve.

You looked from Steve to Bucky, who shared a guilty glance with each other. 

“That’s my fault, Sugar. I– I made Tony and Steve swear not to tell you.”

Your dark haired ex boyfriend looked at his shoes as he rubbed the back of his neck with his new hand. He held it up and looked at it and then at you.

“Didn’t know how you would feel about this.”

You ignored the uncertainty and hurt in his eyes.

"What do you want? A cookie? A pat on the head?  A tear? You are not going to make me feel sorry for you. Not when you let everyone else but me in on your secret."

You cocked your head and gazed curiously at the new appendage, then back at him.

“Bucky, I am stronger than you think. And I loved you.”

Both Steve and Bucky winced at the word ‘loved,’ but both for different reasons.

“I would have accepted you anyway you came. And I would have been by your side while you recovered. But you didn’t want that. But it looks as if you’re fine.” 

Steve sat back down at his workstation, resigned. You shook your head at him. If it wouldn’t have cost you a million dollars, which you didn’t have, you would have walked out of Stark Industries and moved across the world. But you had work to do.

“You’re interrupting our work here. You need to leave.”

You wanted him away from you like fire.

“That’s what I’m tryna tell you, Doll.” 

Bucky strolled over to the locker area and took off his coat, grabbing goggles and a lab coat.

“I’m reporting for duty. Tony assigned me back to the New York lab.”

—-

Tony leaned against the bar in his office, after he downed the drink that he’d offered you and that you’d refused. It was only 10:46 am. You were trying to hand in your resignation. Or at least ask for a transfer to a new location.

“And just where do you think you’re going to go, Sugar?”

You glared at your boss. Bolstered by anger, this was the least intimidated, and most angry, you’d ever been at him.

“Paris, maybe? Tokyo? Hell, even Des Moines. I’ll take anything. I need space.”

Tony shook his head. 

“I need you here. The productivity with Barnes back is about to be through the roof.”

You just stared at him incredulously.

“You’re not thinking with your brain. Your heart and what is pounding between your legs are in the way.” 

Your mouth dropped open.

“...But the tension between you Barnes and Rogers will make me a lot of money. I’ve studied you since your freshman year. I know what makes you tick, what motivates you to do your best work. And the numbers don’t lie. Being right in the middle of Bucky and Cap makes lots of money for Stark Industries.”

You stared out at the view of New Jersey, outraged.

“Besides. I have the exclusive contract over your mind, body, and soul for the next seven years. Might as well make the most of it.”

You sighed and took the drink Tony offered you this time.

—-

Bucky Barnes was the most infuriating man you’d ever met, second only to Steve Rogers.

Your brain was scrambled when you weren’t working, so you worked that much harder to stay in control. You hated when Tony was right.

Here you were, flanked by two gorgeous men whose work clothes only accentuated their powerful bodies. Bodies that you knew very well. Your tongue had traced every plane of each of them. Your hands explored their broad shoulders and taught, muscular frames. Your fists had clenched their throbbing cocks and you had accepted them inside you. 

No matter how mad you were at them, you couldn’t get them out of your mind.

Imagining Bucky crashing his lips to yours as he backed you up against a wall made your core throb. And dreaming about Steve’s hands around your thighs as he lifted you onto a lab table made your nipples tingle.

Working in between them in the lab was torture for your neglected body and soul. You were doomed to work in  between the two men who’d fucked you most thoroughly and recently.

You didn’t even want to think about your heart.

You ignored the lingering looks in their blue eyes, the way they gentled their voices when they spoke to you, and the way they tried to come in contact with you for no reason. The number of times fingers lingered over passed specimens, the way space became so tight that they had to squeeze behind you in the lab, and the uncomfortable number of times you ended up between them in the equipment closet made you lose your breath.

Steve and Bucky never pressed you for anything, and all you had to say was ‘excuse me,’ for them to move out of your way, but it was untenable. You would give neither of them the satisfaction of getting upset. You managed made it through work and home to your brand new vibrator every night after long days of fighting their pheromones in the lab.

After a week of forced proximity, you were experiencing the forced Stark Industries Happy Hour. As you waited for your drink at the bar, you thought it strange that Tony had never made them mandatory before Bucky came back. That was quite the coincidence.

You wanted to pace yourself with your drinking as you realized that you had to stay there for another couple of hours to get the bonus that came with attendance. The word ‘happy’ and the names Bucky Barnes or Steve Rogers did not go together, so you participated in each round to numb the desire that was plaguing you. 

For someone so smart. You were so clueless sometimes.

—-

As you rode the elevator in Stark Tower to your apartment later that evening, it seemed as if the elevator was moving extra slowly. You didn’t know if it was the tequila affecting your senses, or an actual malfunction, so you asked FRIDAY for analytics, but for some reason, she said you didn’t have clearance for the answer.

You were mad and mute for a minute, trying to clear your head for the security code. It was then that one of your fellow passengers, who you were trying to ignore, broke the silence.

“Okay Sugar, truth, or dare?”

You looked at him as Steve watched you both. 

“I said, truth, or dare.”

“Truth is Bucky, we’re not kids anymore.”

“So you pick truth. You don’t get to pick the question, though.”

Bucky ignored your ire.

“Which one of our cocks is better, mine or Steve’s?”

Your eyes widened and you gasped as Steve interjected,

“Buck…”

“What, Punk? Remember she rated them before she experienced them. Did that hold out? Or did she tell you that you were the 9.9 too?”

Steve rolled his eyes and went back to watching the floor count, mouth set in a thin line. You had not, in fact, told Steve that he was the 9.9. 

“Stop being a little shit, James.” 

You were rocked, memories flooding back, dysregulating your nervous system even more.

“So you’re saying you won't answer the truth?”

You crossed your arms and legs as you leaned back against the elevator wall. You looked up at the floor indicator lights, trying to stop the emotions from getting to you.

“You can pass. Or you can take a dare, Sugar.”

You huffed, fighting the urge to just say pass. Some lingering adolescent urge refused to let you.

“This is so fucking ridiculous.”

You spoke it outwardly, but you were talking to yourself, to your riotous body, which was reacting to these two men in this enclosed space in the most alarming way.

Bucky was watching you intently, but Steve hadn’t turned around, just replied in that voice of his.

“Those are the rules, Sugar. You should probably answer the question or take the dare.”

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath when you realized what this was. You were dealing with male egos and competitiveness. And they wanted to know the answer, hear you talk about their cocks when for some reason the agave gods were making you horny.

You had to get out of there. 

“You’re not making stupid bets and putting notches in the bedposts any longer. Bucky, we were together, and then you left. I thought it was something that it was not. Then Steve and I got together. I loved you both and in return, you both played me. You both won.” 

Steve turned around and faced you as Bucky advanced closer. He licked his lips and you wanted, no you needed, to run.

“You think I didn’t love you, Sugar? Shit, I worshiped you.”

The sensation of Bucky’s firm body crowding you in bed, taking up the mattress, leg wedged between your thighs while he delivered hot kisses and a slow grind against your clit came out of nowhere. You missed it. You wanted it again. But you lifted your chin as you straightened your spine, determined to resist him.

“You left me.”

“Stark made me!”

Bucky’s blue eyes were wide with emotion.

“‘S’okay Buck. She doesn’t believe I loved her either. Even though I always have. And I caught her when you were gone.”

You looked up at Steve and saw the hurt, and you were preparing not to care, but the feeling of Steve naked against your back, his hands roaming all over you, whispering assurances and praise as he rocked inside and made you come apart in his grip almost made your knees buckle.

You had to move, so you pushed at the rock hard wall of them and they let you move them to get to the elevator controls.

“Why. Won’t. This. Thing. Move!?!?”

You pushed too many buttons at once as Steve and Bucky tried to stop you. The only thing that stopped was the slow progress of the elevator. The small room jolted to a halt, and you stumbled, right into Bucky and Steve’s arms as everything went dark.

“Well now, Sugar. You should have just taken the dare.”

Bucky’s sass enraged you and you cursed and batted their hands away from you as you reached for your purse to find your phone.

—-

A half an hour later, you were all sitting on the floor, Bucky’s jacket beneath you and Steve’s jacket around your arms because the climate control was off. There was no telling how long it would be before someone would find you.

There had been silence since you realized you had not cell phone signal and cursed for 3 minutes straight. You were more than sober now.

God, you wished you were drunk.

“Answer the question. Or take the dare, Sugar.”

This time it was Steve.

“Your fucking competitiveness is so annoying, you know that? Can you two accomplish anything on your own, just for your own pride? Or altruism? Or shits and giggles?”

You could feel their eyes on you in the dark. You fought against them in the darkness, or you were just fighting the darkness, because the lack of sight was enhancing your other senses, and lord you didn’t really want to feel those right now.

“Truth. Or Dare?”

Bucky’s velvet voice was undeterred. You shook your head at it.

“Fine. If it will get you to leave me alone. Dare.”

“I dare you to give up control.”

The response was immediate, as if he were waiting for you to say that.

You groaned, a sound that sounded to sensual, even to your own ears. You were going for annoyed.

“Bucky, it’s late. I’m tired. I’m stuck in an elevator with my two exes. This is a nightmare. And you’re daring me to give up a concept?”

He chuckled.

“Not the concept of control. I think you know exactly what I mean. Give me control. One long weekend. It will be just like when we were roommates. But without the endless teasing and blue balls. This time you give us both that we deserve.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Bucky?”

Your head turned toward Steve, whose voice was on edge.

“I get to watch. You and Sugar, Steve. And direct. And participate…and we find out who is the best…”

“Hold on…”

You could feel Steve shifting in his position on the floor.

“Are you talking about….? Watching me and Sugar… what–?”

“Really Bucky? Do you have a metal brain as well?”

You wanted to fight, but them touching you was out of the question. Bucky was pure chaos.

“If we do this, what would that accomplish?”

“The fuck are you entertaining this nonsense for, Steve? Who the fuck–”

Bucky interrupted your rant.

“Well, you’ve entertained both of us, Sugar, haven’t you? Teased us. Toyed with us. Played us against the other. Wore our clothes and nothing else, slept between us in our bed. Teased us with that body well before we could really do anything about it.”

You dropped your head in your hands, exhausted, as Bucky continued.

“And then, when you finally granted us between your legs, one by one, there was always this spector hanging over the bed, or the floor, or the counter, or the lawn that we fucked on, wasn’t there?”

Bucky paused and you heard the bitterness in his voice. 

“The other one of us was always in the closet or the bushes, or in your head, weren’t we?”

"Don't blame me for your twisted predilections, Bucky."

“What about your predilections, Sugar? You’ve played us against each other long enough. Don’t forget. We both know what gets you off.”

Bucky’s voice wrapped around you in the dark, and you wanted to climb on and ride it as your clit began to pulse. You cursed your body’s reaction to him.

“We know what gets you off hard. Steve told me everything. And it was the same as with me. Your fantasies, Sugar…”

Steve spoke up.

“Bucky, this is uncalled for…”.

"Stop being such a boy scout."

“We know you, Sugar. What we don’t know is who you like the best. We deserve to know.”

“Bucky…”

“It would give us all closure, Steve.”

“You’re crazy, Bucky.”

“Put up or shut up, Sugar.”

Suddenly the lights came back on and you scrambled to stand up as the elevator started again, this time moving at normal speed. You looked between one man who was flushed red and the other who had a smirk on his face.

The elevator stopped and the doors opened, as you bolted out, you replied to Bucky.

“Why don’t you just fuck each other? That will kill two birds with one stone.”

——

Next part: Simple Sugar

Let me know if you like it! 😊

[prettyinpwn]

Stan Pines: A Masterclass in Character Writing and Symbolism AKA Stan is Godly, Literally (GF Writing Analysis Pt. 5)

If you're interested in reading a similar writing analysis on Ford Pines, please visit this page.

I've wanted to write a post on Stan for a long time, because I'm going to make a bold claim: he is THE best written character in Gravity Falls. I literally have never been able to find a flaw with his writing, and the reason? Not only does he have the markers of quality I mentioned in my post about Ford's writing (a want, need, character arc, realistic flaws), but...

I would also argue he is THE main protagonist and hero of Gravity Falls if I had to pin it down to just one, and his character arc matches the external conflict, that being Bill Cipher and the theme of growing up vs. staying in childhood and ego vs. selflessness, in ways that are just - and I'm not exaggerating - poetic. And the best part is, he had a lot more time and attention in the spotlight in the show than Ford, so everything I mentioned in the other post that was good about Ford's writing, ramp that up x100 for Stan.

His character also touches on multiple other fantastic themes: breaking generational trauma, healing broken familial relationships that seem unfixable, redemption, the misunderstanding of the family "fuckup" (although Stan is not that in the least, but that's part of his character arc), positive masculinity, true brotherhood, self-love, self-identity, and probably a million others I'm missing and will find out even just as I write this.

As for the godly part, well... you'll just have to read to the end. And no, I'm not kidding or exaggerating, either.

Okay, okay, gushing aside, let's get to the analysis. I'm not sure this will be as neatly structured as Ford's was, but there are just so many damn good things about Stan's writing that it's hard to stick to just one point. Let us begin.

Stan's Backstory: I Am Not Ford and That's Bad + Protecting/Providing for Family > Everything Else

So as I discussed in my post about Ford linked above, much of Stan's childhood revolved around Ford. His entire existence as a child was summed up by one question: how do I compare to Ford? This is especially emphasized in how their father, Filbrick, treated them. One of the end credits ciphers in the show reads as follows:

"A STUBBORN TOUGH NEW JERSEY NATIVE, FILBRICK WASN’T TOO CREATIVE, HAVING TWINS WAS NOT HIS PLAN, SO HE JUST SHRUGGED AND NAMED BOTH STAN."

Haha, very funny. But OUCH. Imagine knowing that your whole name is your name, was because your father only expected one son and was too lazy to come up with anything else. So literally, Stan doesn't even have his own name - his own identity - technically. Stan also was apparently the second twin born, so came in "second" even from birth, and being Ford's (either identical or very similar fraternal) twin, well... it's hard for someone to untie their identity from their brother's with those factors surrounding them as a kid.

There are many other factors that illustrate my point (Ford got Filbrick's name as his middle name, the way Filbrick literally put Stan on the lawn for sale as a kid for failing a test, etc). All in all, Ford receives their father's love, Stan does not, although we could argue that this isn't that great for Ford, not really, as I did in my post on his writing. Because it's a love that comes with a, "I'd also like to use you." attached (just like Bill, gee).

All in all, it's very obvious from all these context clues that Ford was the beloved one, and Stan was the unexpected one, from birth to the end of Gravity Falls, where he uses that to his advantage - albeit in a different context - to defeat Bill Cipher.

Worse yet, Stan happened to have a twin that was extremely smart and talented in a way that was easily noticed. Ford is a Golden Child, as I described in his own writing analysis post, and siblings of the golden child like Stan? Well... the other sibling(s) are often the Scapegoat. As the source in the last sentence states, the Scapegoat is "often blamed for family mistakes, discarded, neglected, and has been gaslighted into believing it was their fault. The scapegoated child is usually assigned at a young age and often carries this role through to adulthood and never loses the unfortunate title.". This can highly affect the Scapegoat's self-esteem, even into adulthood.

This page also covers the Golden Child vs. Scapegoat dynamic. Pay attention to these quotes from this source:

"You are the one the parent will come after when things are going wrong."

"You are subjected to their emotional and verbal abuse the most."

"You may even feel like you need to fix your broken family."

Also, take into account these panels from the comic, Lost Legends, released after Gravity Falls ended:

Yikes. A child doesn't say these things unless a parent has taught them that everything they do is wrong and they are lesser than their sibling. This kid's noticed how Filbrick looks with pride at Ford, but not him. And here's the thing: the item Stan stole in this comic that made Filbrick mad? Stan did it to clean it to make his father proud. Sound familiar? In the events of Gravity Falls, Stan works on the portal for thirty years and gets Ford back, and he gets... yelled at for it. Stan always has good intentions. Although, Ford has a point in the above comic panel: Stan does take shortcuts that get him into trouble. He did almost get jailed by the US government and end the universe to save Ford.

But this is a consistent theme with Stan's character throughout the show. Even WE as the audience first see Stan the way his family did - a conniving scoundrel and money-grubbing criminal - but through the events of the show, just as Stan's family starts to realize it, even when Stan does things that seem bad, like stealing radioactive waste, working on a portal described as a potential cause of the end of the world, has a ton of different identities, etc... we find out Stan had good intentions all along.

Even Stan's greediness? That need for money? That also stemmed from the same good intentions, because how ELSE was he going to afford Ford's mortgage to keep the Shack in order to keep working on bringing him home? It was also likely something ingrained into him from when he was kicked out. Because Filbrick told him, basically, until you make us the money that Ford losing his chance at West Coast Tech cost us, GTFO. Literally. :'(

So Stan... really IS not what he seems. He seems like a fuckup, a criminal, a liar, and a greedy conman. But really... he's a family defender, protector, and supporter. Want to have your mind blown? Intentional or not, let's look at the very first scene we see Stan in in the series:

"Oh look, I'm a monster!"

"Just kidding, I'm not. I'm someone else under what looks like a monster."

Yes. Stan's whole character arc is foreshadowed in like... three seconds in the first episode. The very first time we see him. Not just his arc, but also his role as someone that seems deceptively evil but is actually good. And not just the arc that Ford and Dipper take from distrusting Stan to finally understanding his good intentions, but also the realization WE as viewers have about Stan as we follow the story. Additionally - which we'll get into later - it's symbolic of Stan's internal character arc he takes across the series of realizing he himself isn't the monster that his father planted in his mind as a child, but a good person worthy of love.

All of that... in a few seconds of animation. If that wasn't intentional, then DAMN did the writing gods smile on the Gravity Falls team the day they planned this scene. Back to the point about who Stan really is: the family "fuckup" (not really, but we'll get to that later), and a family defender and protector. This is the true core of Stan's character throughout the whole series. Not only was he Ford's defender as a child, protecting him from bullies, but you know those scenes the fandom universally agrees on were Stan at his most badass? Ahem...

"Everything I've worked for, everything I care about, it's all for this family!"

"Turn around and look at me, you one-eyed demon! You're a real wise-guy, but you made one fatal mistake: you messed with my family."

Yeah. Look at what Stan is doing in EVERY single one of these scenes: protecting his family. And as bad as Filbrick was, just like I explained in the post I made about Ford's writing... Filbrick also passed down some things to Stan that make him the hero he is. And it's also stuff that Stan passes down to Dipper:

Yeah, it kinda sucked for Dipper at the time. Was it a perfect way of teaching a child to be tough? Er, no, although another mark of a well-written character is that they can make mistakes and have flaws; Stan's not perfect. And the fandom has criticized the way Stan passed down this lesson to Dipper, because it can be considered very similar to the way Filbrick passed it down to Stan. But look what it did: when the world fights and threatens his family, just like Stan, Dipper fights back. With punches, too:

So... to summarize this first part: Stan was taught from childhood "I'm not Ford, and that's bad. I am a monster unworthy of love that always messes up.", and his role is a family protector, which started with how he protected Ford from bullies as a child. This is the core of his self-identity. So let's get into the writing techniques that make a well-written character that I discussed in Ford's writing analysis post...

Stan's Core Want vs. Need

I'll quote my explanation of want vs. need from my own post on Ford I made about a year ago:

"When I took writing classes in college (and over years of writing in general and drooling over writing advice podcasts and blogs), I found that the best method for me, personally, when it comes to crafting characters is to focus on two major things:

1. Their want.

2. Their need.

On the surface, these look like the same things, but in character writing, they can be vastly different. For example, say that you have a character that greatly desires fame and recognition. They want these things.

But what’s the real reason behind it? Is it because they had a parent that was famous and want to live up to their example? Is it because they want to be adored by people? Is it because they were told they’d never amount to anything by someone and want to prove them wrong?

This real reason behind it all is the core need. Yes, they want fame and recognition, but they need it because, say, they have low self-esteem and need copious amounts of outside validation to boost it.

Tied to this need is usually a backstory reason (sometimes called their wound). Say your hypothetical character was bullied a lot as a child. Or abused by a parent. Etc. Whatever the wound was, it caused a big, painful hole in their heart that they try to fill and fix with their want.

So they go on a journey. The want is often the external journey. The need is often the core journey / character arc. Our example character seeks fame and recognition on an external journey, but deep inside, they realize they need something else, which is to understand that their past trauma/wound doesn’t define them, and fame and recognition will not be the balm they expect it will be. Often, they realize they had what they needed all along. They grow past their flaws associated with their seeking this want through understanding and instead pursuing the need."

I'll summarize Stan's character writing using these concepts right here, like I did for Ford in his analysis post:

“I want to be Ford because I want to be loved like he is, and I want to protect those I care about and do the right thing. But what I need is to realize is that who I am - not Ford, but Stan - was good enough all along, proven by how I've always protected those I care about, and I never NEEDED to be Ford in the first place. This stems from a wound from my childhood where I was a scapegoat child treated like a fuckup who never did anything right and could never measure up to Ford, and was conditioned to think that being like Ford was a ticket to earn familial love. I had what I needed all along: myself, because I am good enough and worthy of love, despite what my father taught me."

Stan's Arc: I Am Not Ford... and That's Okay

AKA Stan's arc is basically: learning to love yourself and be yourself, even when you were conditioned to think you have no value. Don't believe me? Guess what Stan does for thirty years: pretends to be Ford. And he literally does it by pretending to have died. He "kills" Stanley Pines AKA himself in a staged car crash to become Stanford Pines.

And guess how he defeats Bill? By pretending to be Ford. His greatest weakness is actually his strength, and then he flips it: he reveals to Bill that he's not Ford, he's actually Stan. And THAT'S when the antagonist of Gravity Falls is truly defeated - an antagonist that represents stasis, lack of change, and with The Book of Bill's context, an antagonist that never freed himself from his own past - is when Stan learns to accept himself and admit who he really is and learns to let the past go. And it's telling that this is what he says when he does it:

"Heh. Guess I was good for something after all." AKA: "Yeah, fuck what Pa said about me."

There it is. The moment of Stan realizing his father was wrong, and he was wrong for thinking himself a fuckup all those years. And this is the expression he pulls at this moment of realization; at the peak of his character arc, all while burning in flames like a phoenix reborn. It sounds corny when I put it that way, but LITERALLY, all the fire symbolism feels like it wasn't foreshadowing Stan's death, but his rebirth as himself after pretending to be Ford all those years. He's not burning who he is, he's burning away who he thought - who he was told - he was. Funny that it takes place in the mind, huh?

This is the face of a man who is at peace and finally loves himself for the first time in his life. That ain't just his mind burning. That's him punching his demon that's haunted him and his brother their whole lives, protecting his family as always, and, symbolically, punching a demon that represents the show's overall antagonist of the shackles of staying stuck in the past, forgiveness, and the value of moving on. He literally punches the antagonist - staying stuck in the past - to pieces and THAT'S when he wins.

Also, can we talk about how Bill and Filbrick share color schemes, and Filbrick even has a brick-like pattern in his suit (also, I mean... come on, he's got 'brick' in his name)? I'll let you make your own conclusion about what that means for Stan's character arc:

It's also telling that Bill Cipher's backstory is that he burned his home dimension and loved ones - including his family - to ashes. The Axolotl - Gravity Falls' equivalent of basically God, from what I can tell - says himself about Bill in one of the books released outside of the show:

"Saw his own dimension burn. Misses home and can't return. Says he's happy. He's a liar. Blame the arson for the fire."

Bill misses home. He wants the past and to hold onto his family, just like Stan and Mabel do. Isn't it funny how whenever Bill shows up... time stops?

And look what Bill says in Weirdmageddon: "This party never stops! Time is dead and meaning has no meaning!"

Time stopped. He just wants fun. He's almost like a child that never grew up. And... look at what it was that Stan wrecked in A Tale of Two Stans as a teenager:

A perpetual motion machine. That thing that's not supposed to stop, just like time. Stan 'breaking' time by wanting to hold Ford in the past, with him, instead of leaving him to go to college while Stan was stuck in the past/Glass Shard Beach? That's what broke their brotherhood.

But what makes Stan a hero, and Bill a villain, is that he lets go of the past and his childhood. Bill never does. And he's defeated when Stan lets go of the past, something Bill never did. Why? Because he has family to make facing the future easier. He has familial and self love. Bill doesn't, because he killed his own. (Sorry, got off track again, but Stan's arc and story ties so deeply to the other characters' and the main themes that it's hard not to take some detours, because it illustrates just how well-written Stan is. Gravity Falls' story IS his story.).

Wanna know something cute? Wanna know how Stan realized he had worth during that scene after he defeats Bill? Why I'm betting the show runners showed Stan clutching to a picture of Dipper and Mabel as this happens? I'll give you one guess why Dipper and Mabel are so important to Stan, and why he clutches to their photo even as his mind is burning apart in the finale:

They're the first family members since Ford (whose love he'd lost) who loved Stan for who he was, not for who they thought he should have been. Mabel trusting Stan in Not What He Seems is basically the first damn time Stan's heard in thirty plus years from a family member that, "Hey, I trust you have good intentions and aren't just a lying fuckup. You're not a monster. You're not what you seem.".

Also, he's protecting his family. That always makes him happy, too, of course.

Ego Death and the "Stan is Godly" Part

Yep, we're taking this analysis post train all the way to "damn this is deep and PrettyinPwn is likely crazy for noticing it" station. The only reason I'm tacking this part on is that I saw a Q&A with Hirsch recently that sparked my attention. He was on his The Book of Bill tour, and someone asked if there was anyone more powerful than Bill in Gravity Falls lore. Of course, Hirsch said the Axolotl, but what he said about what Bill vs. the Axolotl stands for caught my eye:

The video in question. The question and answer starts around 21:22. The quote I want to point out is, though, is what we learn about these two beings:

Hirsch: "Bill's weaknesses in terms of his overconfidence, his ego, and his lack of ability to focus on one thing at a time are things that a being that has no ego, thinks on a long scale, and does have empathy is actually stronger than him because of those things."

So when we boil the conflict of Bill vs. the Axolotl down to simple terms - what makes evil vs. good in the Gravity Falls universe - is this: ego and selfishness vs. no ego and empathy.

Guess which characters wrestle with these themes? The correct answer is: ALL of them. But especially Stan and Ford. This is really what their conflict is about at the core. They both struggled with ego and selfishness, and that's when - in the story - they lose most. But they win when they choose selflessness and empathy. When they... drum roll, please... partake in ego death.

Well, let's describe an ego death. First, we must define what an ego is (source for all of the following quotes):

Ego: "The ego is a sense of self that you develop at a young age." and, "-relates to your feelings about your own importance and abilities.".

*cough "I'm the family fuckup and poor man's version of Ford because that's what people taught me to believe in my youth." cough*

And an ego death "-is the (often instantaneous) realization that you are not truly the things you've identified with, and the "ego" or sense of self you've created in your mind is a fabrication. In some instances, it can offer a profound feeling of peace and connectedness with all that is, as the walls of separation the ego creates come crumbling down."

*cough "I'm not Ford's poor copy, I'm not a fuckup, I have worth, and I realize this in my literal mind as I pull this expression-

-of total peace as the walls of my mind literally BURN around me" cough*

And, "When one comes through on the other side having released all the things they've identified with, with only their true spirit left, Kaiser says, they begin to live from a place of pure love."

*cough "I'll hold a picture of the ones I love and realize self-love as my mind burns around me because this is who I really am: a man who protects and loves my family and my family loves me" cough*

Cheeky asides, well... aside, are you seeing what I'm getting at, folks? Look, I can't prove that Hirsch and crew intended all this, but in my opinion: you wanna know why there are so many gags of Stan or versions of him melting or burning in the show? Why fire is such an important symbol surrounding him? Why there are so many times he's killed his own identity and became a "new" man again and again and again, be it as a young grifter, or as a drifter who became his brother to bring him back again, or as an old man who "killed" his own mind to save the world and his memories returned?

Because it's ego death. The rebirth of true self from a lie you were living. That's literally what Stan's arc is a metaphor for. Even better, he reaches his character arc's zenith when he does this:

That's not an old man punching a stupid little bastard. That's an old man punching what threatens his family, punching his own past, punching his own demons, punching his brother's demon, punching his prior identity, and - given that we know that Bill is a symbol of ego now - punching the personification of literal ego and letting it burn. There are, let's count, seven symbolic meanings in that punch at the very least. Maybe eight if you count that the rightside-up triangle is the alchemical symbol for fire, and by Stan beating it, it's symbolism of his defeating the fire that's eating his memories AKA why he gets his memories back. I could find more, probably.

And yes, the chubby old conman we love so much - and is the opposite of spiritual both in action and in Hirsch's words (he's said Stan is an atheist as an adult) literally has a character arc where he attains spiritual enlightenment that aligns with the god of the Gravity Falls universe - the Axolotl, who has no ego as Hirsch said - hidden under many layers of symbolism. I don't know if Hirsch and the writing crew planned this with Stan, but holy damn... this is what I meant when I said that Stan is the best written character in Gravity Falls, even if this part was unintentional. There are just so many layers of meaning here.

And the best part? Stan was this hero all along. Everything we cheer him on for - be it punching zombies to protect his niblings or spending three decades of his life trying to get his brother back - is when he's being selfless and empathetic. We love Stan as a character because he has a big heart. He's a good person because, as we described above, he is - through beating ego in a universe where its god represents a lack of ego - godly.

No, fangirls, put the sexy Hunkle art down. I mean literally spiritually godly in the Gravity Falls universe, at least in the way good and evil is portrayed in the themes and worldbuilding. No, I'm not exaggerating, either. Let's return to that quote about the Axolotl's powers and why he's stronger than Bill:

"-that a being that has no ego, thinks on a long scale, and does have empathy is actually stronger than him (Bill) because of those things."

Well... guess what Stan does? He loses his ego so hard he regularly kills his own identity multiple times in his life and goes through a symbolic ego death, he thinks on a long scale (thirty years long), and is empathetic and selfless to the point of sacrifice. And the Axolotl in real life lore? Xolotl, the god of Aztec myth? Guess what he's a god of (source):

Why I highlighted "vulture"? Honestly, this is just a neat little thing I wanted to point out, and was a part of a massive theory I was writing about Stan and Bill that sadly never came to fruition (although I may return to it someday), but here's a hint: what was Stan and Ford's school mascot in New Jersey?

I'll let you take away from all the above what you will. Let's just say: there are a LOT of similarities between Stan and the Axolotl and its real life god counterpart, Xolotl. Does that that mean he's literally the Axolotl when I say he's godly in the Gravity Falls setting? Maybe not.

Here's one last odd something that caught my eye. This is also a leftover from that theory I mentioned above, but I'll just... leave this here, because I don't think anyone else has ever pointed it out before and it expands on what I've been talking about:

Stan in the opening. The first time we see this guy, technically. He's sitting in his favorite chair. And as we all know, he turns to look at something. But just where the hell does he turn to look?

Half of you are like, "Well, what? What's he looking at?". There's a blue glow to his right, and you know what that blue glow is? The tank, which happens to have...

Could be a coincidence, maybe unintentional, but it's... kind of odd, not gonna lie. To have a character that embodies the traits of the setting's god look over at the setting's god the first time viewers see him. Just... a bit strange... and Xolotl was also a shapeshifter god, and given that Stan goes through so many identities in his life... and axolotls are able to regenerate limbs and so are a symbol of healing and rebirth like Stan - whose whole story is about healing and having multiple "rebirths" - is...

Anyways, I've gotten far off track mentioning things from that theory just for fun that I never posted. I may still post it, so I won't spoil all of it or list any more of the very odd coincidences between Stan and the Axolotl, but all you need to know from this post is that Stan shares a lot of similarities with his setting's god in symbolism, and embodies the power of the Axolotl AKA godliness in the Gravity Falls universe: no ego, selflessness, and knowing how to play a long game, because those are exactly the traits he uses to defeat Bill, as well as the traits that help him resolve his character arc wound.

So... now what?

I'm not really sure what to put here, to be honest. This post was a lot more meandering than Ford's was, but that's because there are so many different aspects of Stan's writing that are amazing, especially in symbolism. I hope it was coherent and made sense. A part of me was considering leaving out the ego death and Axolotl parts, but I thought it interesting enough to keep in. Let me know your thoughts!

[animekpopsimp]

hey! I saw your post about Mha having a reader like Mitsuri and I was wondering if you could do a female s/o similar to Mitsuri.

MHA Characters with a S/O Similar to Mitsuri

Izuku

Izuku absolutely adores your personality and kindness, as well as your strength. He was surprised when you admitted that you had a crush on him, but he was happy that you felt the same. He knows you can be insecure about your appetite, but he doesn't judge you for it. And if someone tries to make you feel bad about yourself because of it, he's always there to cheer you up. You also cheer him up and make him feel better, which he really appreciates.

Katsuki

Your relationship with Katsuki started off rocky. He seemed to hate you at first, finding your overly positive personality annoying. However, after you beat him in a sparring match, he respected you, though he would never admit it out loud. He eventually confessed to you, and thus began your relationship. The two of you are considered a power couple. If anyone gives you any trouble, he will fight them without hesitation. And he doesn't mind your big appetite, he even cooks for you on occasion. He loves you a lot, and he shows it through his actions.

Shoto

When the two of you met, the two of you had very different options about being in a relationship. On top of wanting to be a hero to help people, you also wanted to find someone who would accept you for who you are. Shoto didn't see the need to get into a relationship, he was more focused on proving his father wrong. It seemed unlikely that the two of you would be friends, let alone fall for each other. However, over time, Shoto grew close with you. He admired your strength and kindness. He confided in you about his father, and you were always there to support him. When the two of you get into a relationship, Shoto is nervous. Part of him doesn't believe that he deserves someone like you. Despite that, Shoto is really sweet and caring. He will defend you if anyone tries to make you feel bad about yourself, he loves you and he won't let anyone upset you.

Momo

You met Momo when you were a little girl, both of your families being wealthy. Growing up together, the two of you had your own insecurities to deal with. None the less, you both helped each other. You were close friends for years, and as time passed the two of you developed feelings for each other. Momo was the one to confess, and the two go you started dating. Momo feels lucky that you feel the same, and you do as well. She's always there to make you feel better, and while she doesn't believe in getting into a fight if someone does say something bad about you, she will defend you with words. She can be surprisingly mean when she wants to.

Hawks

Hawks adores you, he fell in love with you the moment the two of you met. In the past, he never considered getting into a serious relationship, but he changed his mind when you came into his life. He dotes on you all the time, showering you with compliments and bringing you your favorite foods. The moment he notices you feeling insecure about yourself, he's right by your side, reassuring you that he loves everything about you. Hawks is your biggest supporter and would die for you.

Midnight

She's your biggest hype woman, she's always making you feel beautiful and will fight someone if they insult you. Her favorite thing to do with you is shopping, and she loves picking out new outfits for you, you both turn it into a fashion show every time. She also loves bringing you your favorite foods since it brings a smile to your face when she does. She wants nothing more than to make you smile all the time.

Aizawa

He may not show his affection publicly, but Shota is smitten with you. You balance each other out and you have a talent for making him smile. He finds your personality adorable The two of you have simple dates that mostly consist of staying at home and cuddling while a movie plays in the background. You two also enjoy having dinners together, the life you two have together is simple but you both love it.

Dabi

The two of you are the definition of total opposites. Dabi has an intimidating aura that scares people. You on the other hand are an absolute sweetheart. That's what Dabi loves about you, you give him a sense of peace that he hasn't experienced in a long time, so he cherishes the fact that you're in his life. Because of that, he's protective. He'll kill for you without hesitation. You're the only one he shows his soft side to, he just loves you.

Shigaraki

Shigaraki usually hates people, but you're the one person he can stand. Your personality makes him feel safe, and he won't let anything take you away from him. If he needed to kill for you, he would do so without question. He loves you a lot.

[pastanest]

if you’re wondering why I’m having to repost this, or why you were perhaps previously following me but no longer are, please refer to this post. I was able to retrieve this thanks to the very lovely friends who have relentlessly sifted through tumblr archives to recover them, thank you all so much!! ♡

LOTR Characters - Falling Asleep With Him

Thranduil

The Elven King prefers to sleep with his head on your chest or in the crook of your neck; he tells you that this is because he can only fall asleep when you are running your fingers through his hair, and this is true, but it is not his sole motive for this sleeping position - in his mind, sleeping on top of you provides you with added security against any potential attack. While he isnt paranoid about this, he is protective of you, and if he can provide you with further safety in any circumstance, he will. Thranduil believes that by lying on top of you, any attacker would quite literally have to go through him before they could get to you, and he is by no means against saving your life by sacrificing his own. He would rather you not know this, because if you did, you would not allow him to sleep on top of you ever again, but in truth, your motivations for wanting to sleep on him are the same. Considering he’s around 6’10”, he is considerably taller than you, and his body smothers yours in a way that is beyond comforting. Thranduil enjoys listening to your heartbeat, it soothes him greatly to feel you so close to him, to hear the very essence of your life force, and he has done well to attune himself to the beat of your heart; so much so, that he will often tease you by kissing your neck in order to feel your heart splutter frantically. Elves do not have much of a need for sleep, but this is not to say that they do not enjoy sleeping, and when it comes to the act of slumber, there is no better place to sleep than in the arms of a King who loves you.

Legolas

Physical affection and various forms of intimacy are all unexplored areas for this Elf, and it will be up to you to introduce him to those when the two of you are ready. At first, falling asleep with Legolas is a little awkward, given that he is fully alert and his entire body rigid, because he doesnt quite know what to do with himself. He lies awake, watching your sleeping head rise and fall on his chest with a look of bewildered love in his eyes. After a few hours, he slowly wraps his arms around you, and in your sleep, you smile. Your reaction causes Legolas’ heart to skip a beat, and he is once again unsure of what to do next. He does not sleep that night, instead stays conscious and studies your sleeping movements, trying to learn the habits of your subconscious so that he can adjust himself to them. Over time, Legolas becomes progressively more comfortable, and even manages to fall asleep himself. His movements with you are careful and calculated, never wanting to disturb you or cause you discomfort. Legolas knows how important sleep is in keeping up your strength and preserving your health, so he makes sure you get enough sleep each night, and if anyone’s presence threatens to wake you, Legolas will not hesitate to request their exit in a hushed whisper and perhaps an icy glare if they are deserving of it.

Frodo

Both during and after his adventures, Frodo is plagued by nightmares whenever he closes his eyes, and this has often resorted in him attempting to completely avoid sleep. More times than you can count, you have caught him desperately trying to keep his eyes open, his head lulling into unconsciousness for a fraction of a second before Frodo jerks himself awake again. It was during your time with him on his adventures, shortly after you’d met through the Fellowship requesting your assistance, that you offered your services to him. On the first occasion that you saw him trying to stay awake, you happened to be on watch, making you the only other member of the Fellowship that was awake with him. You recognised his struggle, the cause for his reluctance, and you sat down beside him, causing him to jump in surprise because he had been so focussed on keeping his eyes open that he hadnt seen you move. You wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him into your side, he naturally curled into you, but the poor hobbit was overcome with awkward hesitance. He smiled, feeling a warmth spread through his chest at your comforting gesture, and after a short conversation in which you promised to protect him in the land of dreams, Frodo allowed himself to drift into sleep. From that moment on, you were at his side the moment he showed signs of tiring, and throughout his adventures you were the only being that could calm his tormented soul into a peaceful slumber. He would either be tucked into your side, or resting his head on your chest, whatever position felt most comfortable each night, but always with your arms around him, and always with a soft smile on both of your faces. He wouldnt dare tell you, but from the first night you held him, you have appeared in his dreams and fought off all dark forces that swarmed him, and no existing words could express his gratitude for your existence.

Samwise

Samwise Gamgee’s shyness got the best of him around you for a long time, you merely mentioning the prospect of cuddling was enough to enflame his cheeks and expect a stuttered response, and after a little while you decided that its best not to voice these things with Sam. Instead, you choose to casually initiate them. Whether it be holding his hand while in discussion with others, kissing his cheek whenever you had to leave his side, or resting your head on his shoulder as you sit around a campfire with the Fellowship, your actions without explanation left Sam flustered, but not hesitant, because by surprising him, you showed him that these actions were perfectly alright. This extended to falling asleep with him, too. You started slow, pretending to be asleep and subtly snuggling up to him, just to judge his reaction. Apparently, when you’re asleep the idea of affection is far less daunting to Sam, because he was quick to pull you into his arms and place a kiss on your forehead, and you could feel the smile on his lips. Considering how well that went, you decided to open your eyes and kiss him, revealing that you had been mischeviously pretending to sleep the entire time. Sam chuckled and shook his head as he blushed, but he seemed at ease, and after that his hesitance towards affection all but evaporated into thin air. He will adapt to whatever sleeping position you find most comfortable each evening, but you know that his favourite sleeping positions involve your head on his chest with one of your hands in his hair, and the other held tightly in his hand, and unless either of you are wounded to the extent of that position being uncomfortable for you, you will almost definitely wake up in that position every morning.

Aragorn

The angsty King of romance is slow and tender with you in every area of your relationship (wink wonk), and falling asleep is no exception. Considering the sheer mass of occasions in which you have seen him almost die, it is no surprise that you value the moments spent in his arms, and Aragorn is very aware of this. He has heard your shallow, panicked breaths calm as soon as you feel his arms around you, his kiss on your forehead, his wordless reassurances that remind you he is still there, still breathing with you. No matter how wonderful your day with him as been, once you are in bed with him and the night is silent, you remember the nights you’ve fallen asleep sobbing into the sheets because someone has delivered you the news that Aragorn is dead, dead from some heroic deed, sacrificing his life for another, being the brave knight you knew he was, and that makes it so much harder to disbelieve every time. But every single time, Aragorn has returned to you, and you have felt your heart beat back to life at the sight of him. These memories haunt you, and your wounded heart can only be healed by feeling the beat of his. As a result, you often fall asleep with your palm or ear pressed to his chest, the sound of his heartbeat lulling you into a blissful sleep, his arms holding you tightly against him as his fingertips play with your hair or dance along your back. Sometimes, after long days spent apart, Aragorn will sing you to sleep with the most beautiful songs, some in languages that you dont understand, but all beautiful sounds regardless. Though you’ve never told him for fear of plaguing him with guilt, Aragorn knows your heart is splintered because of him, and he will lie awake every night with you in his arms, not allowing himself to fall asleep until he is certain you are already exploring your unconscious mind, and sometimes, just before he chooses to fall asleep, he will hold you just a little closer to him and kiss the top of your head, a single tear escaping his eyes as they close. A tear being a mixture of sadness for the pain he has caused you and the bliss at being able to hold you again, is the last telltale sign of Aragorn’s consciousness.

[simpforwebtoonmen]

★lookism characters with an s/o with a similar fighting style as Bayonetta pt.2

feat. Johan Seong, Zack Lee, Mira Kim

So the first one did pretty good so im gonna do a second one :) (edit: it's been ages since i've posted (i fell out of my hyper fixation on lookism BUT NOW ITS BACK YIPPIE) and college is sort of kicking me in the ass rn) not proofread

sorry zack fans but his part is really short...

★Johan Seong

Everyone knows of his "copy and paste" abilities, right? Even with little knowledge of a fighting technique, he's almost always been able to pull it off without any difficulty.

So why is it that he can't copy your technique?

He groaned, his hands on his knees as he panted, letting beads of sweat drip from his forehead and his shirt just slightly damp from the sweating. He hasn't been able to catch up with you at all during this training session. The way you'd fly through the air with no trouble, as if there wasn't such a thing as wind resistance. You were so quick with your movement, making it hard for him to even catch up with you. And even if he could predict your dodging technique, he couldn't predict where you'd dodge or if you'd try and land a blow onto him. You were so predictable yet so unpredictable as you'd never do the same thing twice, there was always something new with you.

"Goddammit," he muttered to himself, growing frustrated with his own slow movement, or rather what's slow compared to you. Usually he's quickly against most opponents, but of course you aren't one of those opponents. You giggle, "uh oh, looks like someone's struggling. Wanna call quits? No shame in doing so, Baby," your words were not comforting in anyway, your teasing tone giving away your true intentions. And who was Johan to not give into your obvious trap.

He wiped the sweat off of his face, and with a deep breath in he straightened himself up. Getting into a fighting position, one you havent seen before, he raises a hand, beckoning you to come forward with his pointer and middle finger, "you fuckin' wish."

With a laugh, you got into position as well, "finally gonna take me seriously?" you teased, your lips curled into a beautiful grin.

And with that, you finally make the first move, jumping up and forward toward your boyfriend. Your left leg winding back just as quickly as it landed a kick on your boyfriend's face.

-

"aww, you poor thing! I'm so sorry! lemme kiss it better," you apologized, taking Johan's face into your hands, careful to not grab too hard and to avoid bruises and bumps. Softly and gently, you peppered his face with kisses. And despite his frustration towards you, he let you do as you pleased (as if he didn't enjoy your coddling and kisses. The pink on his cheeks told you everything you needed to know).

★Zack Lee

"Do I look like I need help?"

"yes, very much so."

He sighs, "alright fine, but don't you dare get hurt!"

You laugh, "yeah, that's funny." that earned a confused look from zack and an even funnier look when you stood on your hands kicked your heel into a workers nose, causing a messy nose bleed and most likely a broken nose.

"what the fu-" his distraction and attention on you left him open, a rather weak punch to the jaw causing him to get his head back in the game.

Just as he takes down the second to last worker, he's almost taken out by the last one but is saved when a chain wraps around his torso and is yanked against the ground, his head hitting the ground first causing him to pass out.

On the other side of that chain was you. How were you able to slam a man 3x your size to the ground with a chain no less? Zack has dated you for a pretty long time but has known you as a friend for longer, and he's had no idea how or when you've acquired such skills. but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't thinking about marriage right now.

"hello? Zack? Earth to Zack!...what the hell is wrong with this dude-"

"marriage..."

"okay, what the flip man."

★Mira Kim

it was supposed to be a peaceful and fun date. And it was for a while. You and your girlfriend, Mira, first got coffee at your favorite cafe, then went shopping at the local mall, and now as your leaving the mall's arcade, hand in hand with Mira, a group of mall stop you from exiting.

"what do we have here?" the one in front, who also happened to be the tallest and most menacing, mocked the two of you. Mira, unafraid and not one to give into bullying or intimidation, replied, "we're on a date, can't you see that?" she raised hers and your connected hands, showing them evidence.

The tall one laughs, his three lackeys laughing along with him, "oh sweetie, I know you can do a lot better than," he looked you up and down, "that." He takes a step closer to Mira, though she stands her ground, refusing to move or let go of your hand. She already knew you had her back, though she's never seen you in action, the stories told from Zack is enough to tell her that you're more than capable of protecting her and yourself.

The man smiles, his hot breath wafting in Mira's face causing her to scrunch her nose in disgust. "I'm a much better person to be going with, doncha think?" it was much worse for Mira when he talked.

And just when the man was about to move closer, he was rough shoved backwards. "yeah, that's enough," you step in front of Mira, realizing that this man was taking it too far and would go farther if he could.

But apparently, the shove backwards was not enough hint for him. "mother fucker!" he wasted no time throwing a punch at you. You deflect it by simply shoving his arm away followed by a kick underneath his chin. he damn near flies backward and onto his back, your leg straight upward in front of you for a few seconds before you slowly lower it back down.

Mira stood behind you, stunned with her hand covering her mouth. Her shock increases when she realizes that the man was now unconscious as his three goonies try to shake him awake. They try to point fingers at you, blaming him for his 'death', which was ridiculous because it was very clear that he was still breathing by the way his chest rose up and down. Of course their accusations cease when you smile down at them, your smile full of mischief and malice.

They end up dragging away their leader and you and Mira were able enjoy the rest of your date in the mall in peace.

"(name)"

"yes, sweets?"

"that was really hot..."

[some-vagrant-child]

Anne Rice's Personal Fancasts for The Vampire Chronicles

(Important Disclaimer: I gathered this together as a curiosity, not as a comment on any past, current, or future actors playing these characters, and if you feel the need to use any of this to make anything other than positive comments on any past, current, or future actors playing any of these characters, I don't agree with you and I don't endorse it, and I hope Lestat comes and yells at you about it in your dreams)

Looking for her thoughts on a few things from her novels, I stumbled upon the weird fact that Anne Rice has a huge digital footprint of which actors she at some point had as her own mental image or ideal casting of her characters. I've collected as much as I could, and so, for fun, here they are! Unless otherwise specified, these were all posted on Facebook between 2009 and 2018.

Lestat

General Comments:

He is a "man", not a "boy"

He's a "big guy, quite tall and strong" (she emphasized this a lot)

He should be a guy in his late 20's so the actor doesn't change too much and can play a 250 year old immortal

He could be played by an unknown

He should not have dark hair or a five o'clock shadow

He should be good looking, because "Lestat's beauty is part of him, part of his self-assurance, his arrogance, his confidence and his seductive power"

First actor she thought looked like Lestat: a young Rutgar Hauer

Actors She Specifically Suggested

Chris Hemsworth (Mentioned at least x 3, said when she watched movies with him she could only see him as Lestat)

Richard Armitage (Mentioned at least x 3)

Anson Mount (Mentioned at least x 2)

Stephen Amell (Mentioned at least x 2)

Charlie Hunnam

Kıvanç Tatlıtuğ

Leonardo Dicaprio (late 90's, mentioned at least x 2)

Actors She Responded Positively to Being Suggested

Travis Fimmel

Harry Lloyd

Wes Bently (2000, was apparently considered for Queen of the Damned)

Louis

General Comments

Mentioned the idea of Louis and Nicholas being played by the same actor

Originally inspired by actor Alain Delon

Actors She Specifically Suggested

Matt Bomer (Mentioned at least x 7, mentioned a lot outside of fancasting, she was really in love with Matt Bomer)

Richard Armitage

Hugh Dancy

Marius

General Comments

"At least 40"

She did not care if he wasn't blonde (see her suggestions below for why)

Actors She Specifically Suggested

Matthew MacFayden (Mentioned a least x 7 but I eventually stopped counting)

Gary Oldman (late 90's)

Actors She Responded Positively to Being Suggested

Paul Bettany

Armand

General Comments

Has to be someone in his 20's (also specified 25 or 30), a "baby faced man, a boyish man"

Actors She Specifically Suggested

Simon Woods (Mentioned at least x 2)

Johnny Depp (Late 90's)

Gabrielle

General Comments

Past 40, closer to 50

Actors She Specifically Suggested

Cher (Mentioned at least x 2, was a suggestion for Louis in the 80's when the idea of gender swapping the character was in the mix for IWTV)

Judy Davis (late 90's)

Eva Green

Actors She Responded Positively to Being Suggested

Claire Danes

Evan Rachel Wood

Kirsten Dunst

Akasha

General Comments

Should be played by a black actress in tribute to Aaliyah's performance in Queen of the Damned being such an entry point for black fans of the series

Actors She Specifically Suggested

Lupita Nyong'o

Tiana Benjamin

Memnoch

Actors She Specifically Suggested

Russell Crowe

Pandora

Actors She Specifically Suggested

Eva Green

David Talbot

General Comments

Should be British

Actors She Specifically Suggested

Jeremy Irons

Anthony Hopkins

[musings-of-a-rose]

Marcus

Pairing: Marcus (Pike, Moreno, Acacius) x f!reader

Word Count: 6900+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes: I saw a post from @pimosworld innocently asking for a Marcus bachlorette style fic and, while this isn't exactly right, this is what my brain came up with. Shoutout to @mermaidxatxheart for listening to me ramble and helping me, as well as @vanemando15 for being a cheerleader!

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**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Marcus Moreno Masterlist

Marcus Pike Masterlist

Marcus Acacius Masterlist

“Thanks for coming to Level Up Comics!” I smile at the customer as I hand them their bag, a quiet grunt all I get in return before they head out the door, the little bell jingling with their exit. I stretch, walking around from behind the counter and heading back towards the display case where several boxes sit in front, unopened figurines and collectibles pouring from them. My family and friends thought I was crazy for opening a physical media store in this age of digital products. They said no one would come in let alone want to actually buy “this crap.”

But here I am, a few years after opening, and I’m doing pretty good for myself. There are still collectors out there who want their favorites in case something happens to their files. They want the figurines from the original manufacturers, rather than printing them themselves. I can’t blame them. There’s something different, something magical about reading the printed word, having a figure of your favorite character that was made decades ago by something other than a 3D printer in someone’s basement.

The bell jingles and I yell out a greeting, shoving a few more figures in the back of the case before standing and turning, a pair of dark brown eyes meeting mine. I can already feel the smile on my face. 

“Hi, Marcus!” Shit, was that too enthusiastic? If it is, he doesn’t let on, his own smile shyly spreading across his face. “How…how are you?”

He rubs the back of his neck with his large hand, his eyes darting away from mine. “I’m..I’m good. You?”

“Good. That’s good. I mean, I’m good. Good. It’s all…good.” What the fuck?

He chuckles lightly, looking anywhere but at me. “Good.”

We’re both silent for several moments. He’s so hot. Way out of my league hot. And the weird thing is, I don’t even think he realizes just how attractive he is. 

“Did my back issue of X-Men come in?”

“Oh!” I slap my forehead. “I almost forgot! Yes. Let me get that for you.” Trying desperately to hide the heat in my cheeks, I quickly walk around the counter, kneeling to sift through the special order pile. 

“You got more figures in?”

“Yeah,” I yell from my crouched position. “There’s a few bins in the back I haven’t emptied yet. Feel free to have a look!” 

“Thanks.” I hear him shuffle off towards the back of the shop just as I locate his order. The door bell dings again and I stand, smoothing down my jeans. A man stands at the counter, his bright blue eyes roaming up and down my body before her plasters on the most ingenuine smile I’ve ever seen. 

“Hi. How can I help you?” I ask him as I place Marcus’s order on the counter.

 “Hi beautiful. I’m looking for a comic.”

I internally sigh. I already know where this is going. It happens several times a week.

“Well you’ve come to the right shop. What are you looking for?”

He chuckles, intending to be endearing. It isn’t. “I’m looking for a very specific issue of Hawkeye. You know who that is?”

Seriously? “I am very familiar with Hawkeye. Are you?”

He scoffs. “Haha. You’re a funny, pretty thing. Anyway, I’m looking for a specific run of his. Do you know what that means?”

Anger surges through me and I grip the desk to ground myself. Out of the corner of my eye I see Marcus at the back of the store, standing and turning towards us but not moving. He’s even hot in my peripheral. 

“Which run are you looking for? Or are you wanting a recommendation?”

He laughs, the vile sound of it echoing off the walls. “A recommendation? From you? What would you know? You’re just a pretty little girl.”

A clunk from the back of the store and I see Marcus trip over one of the boxes. He doesn’t go down, but turns to fix the boxes that he’s kicked over. The man in front of me is unphased, his eyes still on me, an amused smile tugging at his lips.

“Well?” He spits out. 

I look at him, giving him a smile. “Well, if you’re asking me personally, my favorite run is the Matt Fraction run. Not only because of his artistic style and great story, but the fact that they weaved in Clint’s deafness, drawing him wearing his hearing aids, and even doing an entire issue completely in American Sign Language. A great story and representation of a marginalized community from, in my opinion, one of the best and most relatable Avengers. Now, would you like the individual issues, an omnibus, or the digital version?”

The smug smile slowly fades from his face, his eyes hardening. “You don’t have to be such a bitch.”

“I do when customers act like a bitch.” 

He grabs the fliers on the counter and throws them at me, turning towards the door. “Fuck you and this place!” He tries to slam the door behind him but he fumbles with the handle, flipping me off one final time before disappearing around the corner. 

I sigh, bending down to pick up the fliers. A hand reaches out, large and inviting, carefully helping me pick up the scattered papers. I look up at him, at Marcus, sweet Marcus. Who had heard all of that. 

“I’m sorry Marcus. I shouldn’t have lost my cool.”

He hands me the small stack he’s collected, meeting my gaze. “You don’t have to apologize for standing up to a sexist asshole. I should be the one who’s sorry.”

I combine our stacks, both of us standing as I tap them on the counter to even them out. “Why should you apologize?”

“I should’ve come to help,” he rubs the back of his neck, his ear turning slightly pink. 

I shake my head. “No, Marcus don’t worry about it. I get assholes like that all the time. Really, it’s ok.”

He shakes his head. “It’s really not-”

To my own surprise, I reach out and squeeze his arm. “Really, I’m ok. Thank you, Marcus.”

He smiles at me, opening his mouth to say something, but his phone rings from inside his pocket. “Sorry. Sorry.” He pulls it out, tapping on the clear screen only he can see. “Shit. I have to take this. Work. You sure you’re ok?”

I smile, trying not to show my sadness at his leaving. “I am. Hope everything’s ok at work.”

“Thanks. I’ll uh…see you around.” His eyebrows pull together as his phone rings again, his eyes moving down to the screen before he turns around and heads out the door, pausing to give me a wave through the window before he disappears into the crowd. 

I’ll never meet a man owning this shop. They’re either assholes, taken, or hopelessly out of my league. My own phone beeps and I pull it out, scanning the clear screen with my reservation confirmation. I tap the confirm button, nerves flooding my system. 

I can’t believe I signed up for a virtual version of the bachelorette.

—----

I closed the shop early and rushed home to get ready for that night. I arrive promptly at 7pm as they requested, the giant VIRTUAL LIFE logo on the side of the building bathing the sidewalk in bright blue light. I take a deep breath and walk inside, the door disappearing momentarily to let me in before reappearing behind me. The front desk assistant guides me to a row of elevators and instructs me to head to floor 28. I’m the only one in the elevator, the lights illuminating each floor as we pass it. The elevator stops and the doors open to a small waiting room, black leather couches and chairs surround a coffee table with several tablets, each loaded with some form of entertainment. While it looks like there are windows, if you look closely, you can tell they’re simulated, trying to grant us as much privacy as possible. Although, I think it may be more about guarding their own technology secrets. 

“Ivy?” a woman calls my name from the only doorway in the room aside from the elevator. I nod, standing and smoothing down my dress. 

“That’s me.”

“Right this way.” She leads me into another small office, a simple desk with a single chair for me to sit in. She sits opposite me at the desk, tapping in mid air at what I’m assuming is the computer screen in front of her. 

“Ivy it says here you signed up for the bachelorette program to meet a compatible mate. Is that correct?”

Swallowing down my embarrassment, I nod. “Y-yeah.”

She taps a few more things. “Great. Do you know how this works?”

“You guys take a picture of my brain and show me a story?”

She chuckles, the first time her professional demeanor has broken. “Almost but not quite. After we’re done here, you will be taken to the simulation room. You’ve already done your physical-”

“Yeah. They had me put on this suit and they captured the way I moved. Motion capture, I think?”

She nods. “Yes that’s it exactly. This way, your avatar inside your world will move like you. It helps with immersion.” I nod. “They also completed your brain scan to find the most viable dates and look of mate that you are searching for. You indicated you’re looking for a male mate, is that correct?”

I nod. “Yeah. Yes.”

She nods. “Alright. If you’ll go through the door, someone in scanning will take you. Good luck!” She gestures to a door on the opposite wall from where we entered. I go through the door and another woman greats me, leading me to chair where she has me sit and get comfortable. It reminds me of what the dentist chairs used to look like except way more comfortable. She turns to me, holding a helmet with different little lights on it. 

“Any questions?”

“Yeah. So what will he..I mean, how will I know who he is?”

“You will just know. Sort of like in a regular video game, where you can tell who is important to talk to.”

“Ok..but…will he look like him or?”

That’s reassuring. But then she interrupts my thoughts. “Don’t forget, he will be there too also looking for you.”

She shakes her head. “Your algorithm took in your scan and will give him the appearance of someone you find appealing or comforting. We’ve found it’s easier to accept someone if they have an outward appearance you’re already familiar with.”

“So you base connections on personality as opposed to looks?”

She nods. “Those relationships have the highest success rate, so yes.”

“And after, will you show me who he is?”

She nods. “In the simulation, you’ll go on 3 dates. They may be something as simple as communicating in an office to being a superhero or even traveling back in time. The algorithm takes both of your likes, dislikes, and desires and places you in situations. The more you play along and immerse yourself, or yourselves, into the simulation, the better the outcome, meaning a closer connection. And don’t worry - you cannot be physically harmed. And if it’s too much or you want to stop, you only need to say “End simulation”. Please be aware that time may pass differently in the simulation, but you will only be in for an hour. After, you will both meet here, in reality, and can determine whether you’d like to continue with a relationship or not. Any more questions?”

I shake my head. “I don’t think so. Not at the moment, anyway.”

She places the helmet on my head, the nodes all changing different colors as it comes in contact with me. She squeezes my shoulder and I look up at her. “Just relax and try to go with the theme. It’s more fun that way, ok?”

I nod, wiping my sweaty palms on my dress. “Yeah. Makes sense.”

“Good luck!” She taps a button on her clear screen and my vision fades to black so just a couple of seconds. But then I’m blinking awake, the tips of my fingers tingling and my toes feeling like they just woke up. My vision starts to clear and the room comes into focus. I’m sitting at a bar, a fancier bar, which explains the nice dress. As my hearing levels out, I realize that the blonde man to my right is talking to me, his body shifted in my direction. His grey eyes are slightly unsettling. This can’t be my mate, can it? 

“...and so I had them fired! Can you imagine? I asked for my steak to be medium and they brought it out medium well. That will teach that guy to listen to the customer at his next job.” Grey Eyes chuckles and takes a sip of the drink in front of him. He nods towards the glass in front of me. “Do you want another?”

“What? Oh, uh sure.” 

He flags the bartender down and orders a rum and coke before making a show of leaning on his beefy arm against the bar. “I’m glad you finally saw reason and agreed to come out with me tonight.”

I give him a small smile. “Yeah. Same here.” This doesn’t feel right. Maybe they got it wrong? Someone bumps into me from behind and grey eyes catches me, glaring at the person who bumped me, who had moved on. 

“Are you ok?”

“Yeah. It’ll take more than a drunk asshole to bring me down.” Grey Eyes laughs, picking up his glass and holding it up towards me. “I’ll drink to that.” I glance down to grab my drink, only to find it wasn’t there. I look back at Grey Eyes and see him frozen in place, the smirk on his face completely gone, his glass shaking as he continues to hold it in mid air. My glass appears next to his, lightly clicking against his glass. 

“Now that’s not very nice.” That voice. I would know his voice anywhere. My entire body relaxes as I turn to look into the dark brown eyes that I love so much.

“Marcus!” I exclaim, ignoring the vein in grey eye’s neck that’s threatening to pop. Marcus on the other hand, looks good. I mean, he always looks good to me but he’s dressed in nice black pants and a light blue button up shirt with matching black jacket. I’m not sure how a blue shirt makes his brown eyes pop, but it does. Marcus pushes his black frames up his nose.

“Hey, Ivy. Sorry to interrupt your date, but this not so kind gentlemen put a little something in your drink.”

“He what?” I blink rapidly a few times, trying to pry my eyes away from him. Grey Eyes vein relaxes somewhat and he sputters out.

“Fuck you man! We’re on a date! What….what are you doing to me?”

Marcus shrugs. “Well, you wanted to make it so she can’t move. Only fair if I return the favor.” 

Grey Eyes goes to say something else, but then seems to recognize the man standing next to me, his eyes going wide.

“Aren’t you the guy that can move metal?”

My eyes snap to Marcus, who is smiling. “I see I have a fan.”

Grey Eyes tries to backtrack. “Listen, man. I’m sorry. I was just trying to get her to loosen up a bit. Have some fun.”

Marcus looks at me, his brown eyes wide and smiling. “Ivy, do you wish to continue your date with this man?”

“Nope.” I pop the “p” sound at the end of the word. “Little hard to have fun when my date is trying to render me unconscious.”

Marcus waves the bartender over. “Call the police. This man is in possession of Freeze Me.”

 A handful of what felt like seconds later, several officers show up and arrest Grey Eyes, who barely puts up a struggle. I turn towards Marcus, my smile stretching my face as I grab his arm. “My hero.”

His eyes dart around the room, his arm coming up to rub at the back of his neck. “It was nothing.”

Gosh he’s so cute when he does that neck rub thing. Wait. Gotta play along. 

“Is Marcus the Metal Bender actually acting shy around me?”

He chuckles nervously and I think how perfect they coded him. Like he was picked out of my brain. Which I guess he was. 

“Just trying to be respectful.”

I wish he wouldn’t. Wait, are we even allowed to have sex in here? Wow, getting ahead of yourself there, Ivy.

“Youwannagetoutofhere?” He speaks so fast it all comes out in a jumble and I cock my head to the side. 

“What?”

He swallows hard and I can’t help but watch his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. “Do you want to get out of here?”

“Hell yeah I do.” 

—-

It’s a few weeks later, or at least it feels like some time has passed. That lady did say time passes differently here. Now I’m in an office building, a stack of files in my arms, walking down the hall. A quick glance around tells me I’m in the Heroics head quarters. Marcus appears from around the corner and looks up at me, smiling and walking towards me. But then a man in a much too tight blue suit with a glowing M on it joins him, Marcus’s shoulders sagging slightly as he gives me a sad little wave.

“When are you two going to go on a date already?” A woman with bright pink hair appears next to me. 

“I uh, me?”

She slaps my shoulder. “Yes, you Ivy.” She leans in closer to my ear. “Aren’t you the one who confessed to having a crush on our heroic leader?”

I will the heat rising in my face to not show. “Oh, I uh..I-”

“You know he likes you too.” Her jaw drops when she sees the confused look on my face. “Oh don’t tell me you can’t tell! That man can hardly look at you and he’s taken down alien forces by just staring at them.”

She feels like a close friend so I go with it. “Yeah, ok I like him. Keep your voice down, will you?” She continues walking with me to the end of the hall where I deposit the stack of files into several slots, each one making a small whoosh sound as they’re whisked away to their destinations.

When I’m done, Pink Hair gently grabs my face and turns me to her. “I love you, Ivy. You know you’re like the sister I never had. So please listen to me when I say ask that man out before something happens and you regret not ever trying.”

Well fuck. That is…really spot on to reality isn’t it? 

I never get a chance to answer her as the entire building suddenly shakes, alarms and lights screeching and illuminating the halls. One of the tall filing cabinets starts to topple in my direction and I can only look on in horror, frozen in place by the rumbling building. I throw my hands up, as if that’s going to stop it, but nothing happens. The cabinet is laid gently on its side, floating to the ground. 

“Come on!” I look up into those dark eyes, Marcus extending his hand to me and helping me to my feet. “We have to get out of here!” He tightens his grip and somehow leads us out of the chaotic building out into the streets. Which is also nuts. People are running everywhere and…wait. Is that an alien spaceship coming towards us??

Marcus pulls me behind a wall, glancing around it and waving hand signals to a small group of heroes across the street behind another wall, Pink Hair amongst them. He turns back to me, his face full of worry as he starts to take his shirt off, exposing…not skin but a uniform? No. His hero costume, which is a black shirt,and arm bands. He sees me staring down and he shrugs. “I normally have a tach vest but we’re out of time.” 

“Should you not go out there without one?”

Marcus shakes his head. “I have to support my team. And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. I mean, people safe.”

“You could just stay here with me? The others can handle-” my words are cut off by a giant laser beam cutting through the street, coming directly from the ship. 

He takes my hand and squeezes it. “Get yourself to safety. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine. I need you to be safe.” Another laser beam, the sound of some smaller buildings crumbling to the ground. “Go! Get to safety!” He releases my hand. 

I get a glimpse of the deep craters that lasers had left in their wake through the cement of the street, the piles of rubble and dust, and this spurs me on.

“Marcus?” He leans against the wall, readying himself, but he looks at me. 

“Yeah?”

Mustering up my courage, I lean towards his hunched body, softly planting a kiss on his lips. When I pull back, I see his chest heaving, his eyes moving between mine.

“Please make it back, Marcus.”

Before he can answer, the ship comes into view and his team moves out, following behind Miracle Guy, who had flown right up the ship and started punching it. Marcus’s head whips around, assessing the situation and I squeeze his arm once more before quickly moving out of the immediate area. I know I should move more, but I can’t get hurt so… 

The fight that ensues between the ship, the aliens inside, and the Heroics team is nothing short of brilliant. They may argue in the halls, but in the field, they all take direction from Marcus, who is a brilliant leader, playing all of their strengths. Marcus bends metal like it’s made of playdough, a beautiful dance of destruction and strength. Then the ship comes crashing down, everyone moving out of the way except-

“Marcus!” I emerge from my hiding place at a full run as the smoke around the alien ship that’s currently scraping along the road as it crashes and envelops Marcus. The ship stops, groaning as it falls back and lays still, no other life forms moving or detected on board. For a few moments, no one moves. Then Marcus emerges from the smoke, his face soot stained and a small gash in his shirt and along his cheek, but otherwise unharmed. 

“Marcus!” I run to him, his eyes finding mine, his entire body relaxing as he realizes I’m safe, just before I launch myself into his arms, our lips crashing together as my right hand fists in his shirt, my left tugging on his hair. Miracle Guy wolf whistles but I couldn’t care less. I feel his tongue gently lick out and I part my lips, letting him take whatever he wants. But before it can go any further, my vision starts to blacken, the last thing I see is Marcus’s eyes going out of focus as he succumbs to his own transition to the next simulation.

—----

I find myself blinking awake for the second time in what feels like weeks, but I know in reality it’s only been maybe 20 minutes that I was in there. The tips of my fingers and toes are tingling, my vision and hearing clearing and I find myself in…a breakroom. Am I back at the Heroics? The slight weight in my hand takes my focus and I realize I’m holding a cup of tea. I must be on my break. I walk towards the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking outside. I’m not back at Heroics - the cityscape is all wrong. I hear the door open behind me and I turn, the smile on my face widening as Marcus enters the room. His hair is shorter than the last simulation. And his face is clean shaven, which is a look I’ve never seen on him before. Not that it matters - he’s beautiful no matter what. I wonder what he’ll look like when he’s a little older. Probably hot as-

“Hey, Ivy.” Marcus smiles down at me, grabbing his own mug and pouring a cup of coffee from the carafe. I notice the FBI logo on the mug and figure that must be where we are.

“Hey,  Marcus.” I take a sip of my tea as we both watch the other. But then the door opens again, another agent walking into the room. He claps his hands together, looking at us.

“Hey! Congrats on finally cracking that art case, you two! 8 months is a long time to do an operation like that. Great work!” He shakes both of our hands as we thank him. Marcus catches my eye and, with a small movement, jerks his head towards the door. I nod, thanking the other agent again and follow Marcus out of the tiny breakroom and down the hall, stopping in front of an office door labeled MARCUS PIKE. I wonder if that's his name back In reality. He extends his arm towards his office and I head inside, smiling at him as I do, noting how his eyes dart around, that hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck as he closes the door behind him.

“I uh…great work, Ivy.” 

“You too.” 

He puts his hands in his pockets and finally looks me in my eyes and he nods once. 

“Listen. Do you..uh..I mean, would you like to…this is coming out all weird.”

I squeeze his arm and he looks down at my hand, taking a deep breath. 

“Would you like to get something to eat?”

My stomach erupts in butterflies. “Like on a date?”

The redness in his eyes spreads down onto his cheeks as he stammers, gesturing around vaguely. “No! No, not uh. Not a date.”

I can feel my face falling. “Oh.”

“Uh, unless you…uh…unless you want to? Make it a…a date?” His eyes are wide and bright, like a damn puppy. 

I smile, tucking some hair behind my ear. “Yeah. Yeah, I would love to go on a date with you, Marcus.” 

His smile is bright, lighting up the room. “Yeah?”

“Yes.”

He let's out a sigh of relief. “Great! I found this great pancake place.”

Pancakes? I love this man already. “It's nearly dinner time!” I can't help the small giggle that I let out. 

“Yeah, well you said your favorite food is pancakes. And they're open 24 hours.”

He remembered my favorite food? I'm so screwed. Damn this program is good. “You're right! I'd love to get pancakes with you. On a date. For a date. When will this date be, by the way?”

“Oh. I uh, would it be too weird if we went tonight? Is that too soo-”

“No! I mean, yes! No it's not too soon. I'd love to go!” If my heart could stop beating through my chest, that would be great. It's not that I'm some young girl getting asked on her first date. I just really like Marcus. Or whomever this is. My heart sinks at the thought of it not being the Marcus I know in reality. 

“Great! I'll pick you up at 7? Unless you'd rather meet me there? I don't want you to be uncomfortable.”

“Marcus, we just spent 8 months together on assignment. I think I'm comfortable around you.”

He chuckles. “Fair point.” His office phone rings and he apologizes to me, picking it up. I wave ro him and he mouths “See you at 7!”

—----

He picks me up with a flourish of flowers, all long legs and button up shirt that I'm really dying to unbutton. If that's even allowed here. 

But what's more than that is the conversation. I thought I had learned everything about him over the last 8 months. I was very wrong. 

“You were a bass player in a band?” I ask, choking on my drink.

He laughs, holding his hands up in front of him. “What can I say? I wanted to meet more people.”

“I bet you had all the girls hanging on you.”

Marcus shrugs. “Not really. They all want to date the drummer or the singer.”

“Really? Not the sexy bass player?”

Marcus takes too large of a sip of his drink and coughs, pounding his chest. “No, not the…you think I'm sexy?”

I set my fork down and meet his eyes. “If I didn't like you, I wouldn't be here.”

We spend several moments, just looking at each other and then I remember that he's not a simulation but a real person on the other end of those eyes. My heart squeezes thinking about how it won't actually be Marcus. Despite that thought, we really get along well and the conversation flows freely between us. Sooner than I’d like, we’re leaving the small diner, heading back to my place. Marcus parks in my driveway and turns to me, his eyes bright and wide like a damn puppy. We had been talking about books, one of my favorite topics.

“..and I know everyone complains that Tolkien takes 20 pages to describe a flower, but I really love that attention to detail. It makes it more immersive for me. One of these days I’ll get you to read Lord of the Rings!” I tap my fingers on his bicep to emphasize my point.

Marcus rubs his neck. “I uh…I already have.”

My jaw drops. “What? When??”

“When you told me it was your favorite book. Or books, I should say.”

I think back. “Marcus, that was…months ago!”

His eyes meet mine, the light from the street lamp outside adding a sparkle to them. “You said they were your favorite so…I read them.”

My stomach does flips, my heart beating. “You read them all for me?”

He nods. “Even the Silmarillion.”

I can’t help it. This is so fucking hot. I reach out and grip his shirt, pulling him to me, his soft lips pressing against mine, the heat between us quickly rising. His large hand cradles the back of my head, holding me to him as his other hand settles on my hip, squeezing it lightly. We make out for several minutes, Marcus kissing and nipping a path down my neck. 

“Do you want to come in?” I ask breathlessly. 

He pulls back and looks at me. “I do but-” he whispers. “Are we allowed?”

“I…I’m not sure. We could try to-” 

But then my vision starts to blacken around the edges, and before I pass out, I hear Marcus say “See you in the next one!” before we both black out.

—----

Now familiar with the way I wake in these simulations, I wiggle my fingers and toes, giving myself a moment to figure out where I am. The room looks…ok, this isn’t from my time. Roman decor and pillars line the grand bedroom, some food laying on a small table for, I’m assuming, me. A quick glance down shows me in a beautiful white garb and I marvel for a moment at how clean it is. 

BOOM!

The ground shakes and I duck down, completely caught off guard. It’s only after the boom dies down that I hear it - the distant sound of clanking swords and men yelling. I walk to the small window set into the wall and look out, my brain taking a moment to process the scene in front of me. 

I’m several floors up in a sort of round building, a castle I realize as I see the lower tiers, more square in their shape. I’m sure the grounds would have been beautiful, if it weren’t for the massive amounts of soldiers fighting in the streets. I can make out their bodies, the blood, sweat, and dirt spreading almost like a disease. Spear and swords burst from chests or stomachs, limbs separating from their bodies to be lost to the throngs of soldiers. The seem to be moving closer to the castle, which I’m not sure if I want to happen or not. Turning on my sandaled heel, I walk to the door, pressing my ear against the wood to listen. Hearing nothing, I try to open it. Nothing. The door doesn’t open or move, the handle locked into place.

Well, fuck. 

Before I can try and figure out how far down the next ledge is out the window, or if I can even fit out the window, I hear a commotion outside my door. It’s not loud, but I hear a man gurgling and sputtering, a small bit of crimson blood pooling under the door. I grab an iron rod by the fire and hold it up, preparing to defend myself. I know they said I can’t be hurt but damn this feels real. The door opens and a man walks through, wide, muscular shoulders under his Roman armor, Medusa proudly engrained on the front. I lunge, the iron rod above my head but the man turns and grabs the rod and I  would’ve fallen to the floor if he hadn’t caught me.

“Ivy! Here you are!” 

It’s him. Marcus. Only he’s older, probably closer to 50. Grey streaks in his curls and patchy facial hair only accentuate his beauty, a new scar forming across his nose, bleeding lightly down his face. He’s covered in dirt and blood and ash, but I throw my arms around him anyway.

“Marcus! Thank God, what’s going on?”

He cups my face, pushing my hair out of my face. “You are so beautiful, my love. I would bring every army from the entire world to rescue you from this horrid Emperor.” And then his lips are on mine, urgency behind them, but a desire to show me how l much I am loved. This man apparently started the battle outside, for me, and still wants to make sure that I know how important I am to him? 

“We have to flee. Come!” But before we can leave, the door flies open and 5 guards file in, grabbing Marcus and holding his arms out to his sides. I pick the iron rod up from the floor and run towards them, unsure of what I would do but I know I’ll beat the shit out of them until they let him go. But another hand shoots out and grabs my wrist, twisting it hard so I drop the rod. I look up into the eyes of a man that I’m assuming is the Emperor, his golden robes flowing around him. He looks vaguely familiar, like that one asshole from the comic shop.

“Now, now my dear. What were you planning on doing with that?”

I open my mouth to reply, but then he smacks me across the face and I slam down onto the floor. Ok, that hurt. Didn’t she say I wouldn’t get hurt? Maybe she meant I wouldn’t die. Marcus swears, cursing the Emperor for hitting me. 

“Are you alright, my love?” Marcus grunts as the men punch him in the stomach. 

“Marcus, Marcus, Marcus. You’re kind are dying out. I told you to just accept your fate and take your banishment, but instead, you stayed behind and fell in love with a woman. How…stupid.” Marcus tries to speak but he’s punched again, his body hunching over. I try to stand, but then I’m drug up by my hair, the Emperor’s fingers digging at my scalp as he pulls me to his side. 

“This one?” His eyes rake over my body. “She is attractive, I’ll give you that. Even if she is attracted to a brute like you.” I jerk my body, trying to get out of his grip but it’s too tight, my hands gripping his arms to try and get some relief from the stinging at the back of my scalp.

“Let her go. You can kill me, I don’t care, but let her go.”

The Emperor looks from me to Marcus, a sick smile spreading on his face. “I didn’t go through the trouble of kidnapping her just to have you give up. So I’ll tell you what I’ll do instead. LOOK AT ME!” The Emperor bellows from beside me, Marcus’s eyes moving from mine to his. 

He steps closer to Marcus, dragging me a little beside him. “Such a wild man. How about this: you watch as I take her. Then, I’ll drive my sword through her belly so she can slowly bleed out on the floor. Only after the light has left her eyes will I either kill you or lock you up to suffer the rest of your days. How does that sound?”

The darkness that settles over Marcus is unforgiving, his eyes hardening in resolution. He growls and screams, throwing the soldiers off him as he grabs his sword from the ground, swinging it and taking out all of the soldiers in only a handful of moves. He spins, aiming his sword at the Emperor, who has now moved me in front of him as a human shield, a knife to my throat. 

“I’ll kill her, Marcus! You are too weak to save her!”

Marcus’s gaze moves briefly to mine and I release my weak grip on the Emperor’s arms, letting them fall to my side. Marcus shifts his body ever so slightly before he throws something from behind his back. The object whizzes past my cheek, scratching it slightly as the blade buries itself in the Emperor’s neck. He drops his knife and clutches at his throat, his eyes wide with fear. He crumbles to the floor and sputters for several moments before his body stops moving. I run to Marcus, throwing my arms around him again. He grunts and I remember the soldiers hitting him.

“Are you hurt?”

He clutches his side. “I’ve had worse.”

“You are so fucking hot right now,” I speak quietly to him and he smiles. “I’m covered in dirt and blood and sweat.”

“Stop trying to turn me on more I already said you’re hot.”

He laughs but then inhales sharply at the pain. “I’ll take it, I guess.”

“No, that’s my job.” I bring my lips to his, pushing him back towards the chaise lounge chair on the other side of the room. He sits, pulling me onto his lap as I straddle him, my dress getting dirty as I shift my hips. He groans, his large hands sliding up my bare thighs under my dress and fuck! My vision starts to blacken and I hear Marcus whine out some expletives as we both are brought out of the simulation. 

—---------------------------

Hopefully for the last time, I blink awake, wiggling my fingers and toes as I look around the room. The helmet is gently lifted from my head and the woman that had put it on me moves into my eyesight.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m here.”

“Good. Wait just a moment for your body to fully catch up. Do you have any questions?”

“Yeah why did you stop us having sex?”

She studies me for a moment. “It is not allowed in the programming.”

“I cross my arms. “Well your programming is stupid.”

She chuckles so quietly I thought I’d imagined it. “The algorithm wants you and your mate to match based on personality and emotions, not just physical.”

“I can guarantee you it wasn’t just physical.” 

She helps me stand and I shake my limbs out, full feeling returning to them. I smooth out my dress as she readjusts my hair. “Are you ready to meet him?”

Him. My reality man. “Y..yeah.” 

“Right through that door. He’s already waiting for you.” I move towards the door but she stops me. “I just have to say, I’ve been doing this for years and I’ve never seen a situation like yours and his.”

I furrow my brow. “What do you mean?”

So smiles softly. “So…rooted in reality.”

Yeah that’s not confusing. But she doesn’t explain further, turning back to the chair and helmet, starting to clean them. I take a deep breath to steady myself and open the door, walking through and closing it behind me. The man on the other side of the room, my mate, turns towards me and we both gasp.

“Marcus?”

“Ivy?”

We meet in the middle of the room and I cup his face, Marcus tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “Is it really you?”

He nods. “Yeah. You? Real?”

“Real.”

He pulls my face to his, kissing me deeply, but then pulling back a moment later. 

“I’ve been dying to ask you out since forever. I never thought I’d be paired with you, here of all places.”

I cock my head to the side. “Why didn’t you ever ask me?”

“Have you seen yourself? You’re entirely out of my league.”

“I’m fairly certain it’s the other way around.”

He opens his mouth to protest, but I put my finger on his lips. “I think we went through several first dates in there. Plus, we’re already friends. Can we…that is, can you take me back to your place first? Then we can eat?”

Marcus’s eyes darken, his hands finding a place on my hips as he pulls me against his body, letting me feel how into that idea he is. 

We’re married a year later.

—----

General Taglist:

@frankie-catfish-morales @chaoticgeminate @janebby @astoryisaloveaffair @balekanemohafe @greeneyedblondie44 @hoeforthefictional @marvelousmermaid @hauntedmama @icanbeyourjedi @wretchedmo @sunnshineeexoxo @livingmydreams13 @adventures-of-a-noodle @sara-alonso @theewokingdead @punkerthanpascal @giggly-otter @f0rever15elf @phandoz @gallowsjoker @lovesbiggerthanpride @booksarekindaneat @charlispersonallyhell @xoxabs88xox @amneris21 @gooddaykate @avengers-fixation @paintballkid711 @harriedandharassed   @ladykatakuri @practicalghost @withakindheartx @batdarkladyvampir @justanotherkpopstanlol   @mermaidxatxheart @alexxavicry @justreblogginfics @kmc1989 @veryprairieberry @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @heartpascalispunk

[ladyloveroll]

(These are my ACTUAL notes from my friends birthday party full of people who absolutely did not know who the fuck Itachi and Kisame were or how pairing names work or what a ship is.)

Writing kisaita (on and off) for 15 years

Never get tired of the ship

Excellent, friendly people in the fandom to keep making content (Cynni)

Presentation is less about the specific ship and more about the general qualities that make their ship S-tier. You may find this echoed in your own OTP, IDK.

Powerful, badass characters who can kick anyones asses no problem, as depicted where they are casually taking a stroll after Kisame (who still has his little fo-hawk) casually takes down the four-tails

Kisame is noted as the ‘tail-less jinchuuriki’

Itachi is clearly a fucking powerhouse, we don’t need to debate that

Working with strong characters means you are more easily able to portray their weakness and explore that side of them since that rarely gets screentime

Auxiliary, not main characters

Main characters are harder to write because they spend a lot of screen time accomplishing their goal and doing Plot

Auxiliary characters are more malleable, and morally gray ones especially so

Depicted here are Itachi and Kisame, separately, being ordered by their villages to kill their own people. They carry this order out, but do not particularly like it. Nor are they particularly loyal to their own villages, despite carrying this order out. It’s hard to say where their loyalities lie.

The answer is WITH EACH OTHER OBVIOUSLY

Any ship that has a timeskip has LOADS of canon-verse material you can work with, especially if it feels like the characters have changed or their dynamic has changed.

For Naruto especially, WTF are Kisame and Itachi doing for three years? Clearly neither of them are out capturing jinchuriki. They aren’t seen lounging around Amegakure or Akatsuki headquarters. They are just traveling the world. Probably doing hits. Probably hitting on EACH OTHER WOOOOOO

Long time skips mean a few thing: 1) Canon divergence, 2) Canon compliant, 3) pre-time skip, 4) during time skip, 5) post time-skip; and that’s not even the AU’s

They clearly haven’t made any other friends during this time either so lots of relationship to explore

The Naruto franchise is notorious for retconning. Probably because Kishimoto (the writer) was pushed to create at a pace that was impossible for any sane or healthy man to keep up with.

Fanficition writers can take advantage of this poor writing by interpreting the character in a lot more ways than if the character was solidly written.

There are a lot of different ways Kisame is written, and accepted as so

Itachi less so but we don’t have time for that

Retconning allows you to take a writers mistake and turn it into utter brainrot that ten other people (me) will reblog every 3 years

This one is kind of specific, but if you like angst then OH BOY this ship has a lot of potential for it

Any OTP that involves an angsty edgelord and a sadistic tagalong can indulge in either EXTRA ANGST and be able to balance out the angst with humor

The KisaIta ship has 4 great themes about it:

Redemption

Acceptance

Forgiveness

And Existentialism of course

Dynamic:

Sharkboy / lava girl

Edgelord / goof

Leader / follower

Maybe old? / a touch too young

Respect for each other

S-tier OTP because of strong themes and repeatable dynamics

Kinkfest here we come

S-tier OTPs must be able to withstand an intense variety of smut writing

Powerful level = able to handle pain and dish out pain

Body things? = more positions

The Shape of Water was one of the single best thing to happen to the KisaIta 18+ fics because (even though it existed before the movie came out) a lot more readers were into it now

Also, Kisame makes this ship work more than Itachi. He is fucking DEVOTED

at this point I was running out of my 10-minutes (THEY HAD THE AUDACITY TO PUT ME ON A TIMER) so i just backfilled the rest of the presentation with fanart and memes i like

Why do I like KisaIta?

I mostly write smut

They’re great at smut

I also like angst

They’re always great for angst, either character

Also look at them they are hot AF

Beefcake service-top vs. ‘shaped like a katana’ masochist

Healthy dose of hurt-comfort

They’re extremely flexible to write and so there’s a lot of stories you can create

thank you for not reporting me to the powerpoint police

[v4voracity]

TOO CLOSE - SELF AWARE COD CHARACTERS X READER

⥇❥"Reader" is described as "feminine leaning" or "feminine sounding"; however, they/them and it/its pronouns are used and no bodily adjectives are used in this part because reader is only described as "that person" or "the voice". Let me know if I should make an alternate post(s) slightly adjusted for masculine or androgynous description, and if I missed any content warning tags. I plan on making a masculine version for this one due to someone's request, currently deciding if I should just slightly re-write to change descriptions or fully-rewrite it :)

  ⥇❥Word Count: 3940, excluding warnings and text above the cut.

⥇❥CONTENT WARNING FOR:

↪ body horror(?) ↪ usual “Darkfic” stuff,  ↪ yandere tendencies ↪ Angst™ ↪ possible OOC characters ↪ american author writing (mostly) british people

I totally plan on continuing this drabble with another part so some of the warnings aren't quite apparent yet teehee <3

Link to main masterlist - Link to TOO CLOSE sub-list

You have been warned, scroll at your own risk.

There was always that nagging feeling that Ghost was being watched, paranoia which he had long since grown accustomed to. But, there were always times he felt it… heighten, where this…  this strange sense of dejá vu seemed to take root in his mind. Sometimes, he felt like his movements weren't his own despite it being his will that moved those joints.

It occurred often after he joined the military, and occasionally, when in the quiet of his thoughts, he could hear something. At first, he thought it was a teammate coming through his comms, yet “the voice” wasn't familiar. 

He remembered when he first heard it. 

A quiet voice saying something he didn’t quite catch. He sighed, heavy and annoyed at himself, focusing a bit more on the radio firmly strapped to his chest as he pressed a button with a familiar practiced ease. Despite the fact he laid prone on the ground, hidden amongst foliage he had no trouble reaching it and speaking up. It was… slightly embarrassing that he lost focus and needed to repeat instructions, but he’d rather face slight embarrassment over fumbling an important mission because he didn’t want to ask for them to repeat what was said. Not that Simon “Ghost” Riley was afraid of dying. As a soldier he honestly felt more fearful that he’d fuck up a mission and get yelled at by a superior. That he’d hurt people he was trying to protect. That he’d prove that nagging voice in the back of his head right, the annoying doubtful little shit always lingering despite his confidence that had grown with experience. 

Regardless, he didn’t care to debate with himself about yet another experience that would keep him up at night, wallowing in his bed thinking about everything he could’ve done differently. “Say again?” He asked, cautious to remain quiet and hidden, yet gravely tone firm and clear enough for the other side of his line to hear. Yet no one on the other side of the line said anything previously, voicing their confusion when he asked them to repeat something never said.

Yet no other soul was around the precarious position he perched himself, his scope aimed at distant enemies. He even briefly glanced around, surveying his surroundings for possible danger, anyone, anything. Then “the voice” came through again, energetic and excited— far too unprofessional for how serious that mission was. ‘A recruit,’ he would’ve thought if not for the fact nobody else acknowledged it.

However, once the mission ended, that strange feeling faded, and “the voice” didn't appear again… 

…Until a few months later, on another mission.

The uncomfortable feeling of being watched, the almost foreign feeling of his own body, and “the voice” returned. His skin crawled.

 As if something had forcefully crept beneath it, lifting the skin and making itself comfortable in his body. Claiming it for itself as it burrowed deep into the muscular fiber, into his organs, and flowed in his veins in place of blood. It felt… parasitic and invasive. It disturbed him greatly how the feeling came and went suddenly without cause. Leaving him as it wished and then showing up without warning, without his permission. How it happened to him regardless of how steeled his nerves were. Of how experienced he became.

And, as he would soon find, no matter how intensely he looked around, nobody else was present. Yet “the voice”, which he had to strain to even remotely understand, seemed to respond as if they could see him based on the few words he could catch. 

“HOLY SHIT! He looks so cool, dude! Look at his fuckin’ rifle, his gear! This was so worth the wait. He’s got a new mask too! I’m so glad they brought him back, ugh, literally my favorite poster boy of the whole franchise.”

And if Ghost focused a little bit more, he'd notice it didn't quite sound right, as if it wasn't speaking aloud. “The voice” didn't echo around the room when he was inside, didn't echo through the air when he was outside, nor did it have the crackle of the radio. It was simply muffled, like if someone talked from a room over.

“...Uh, yeah, it was totally worth the fifty-freakin-bucks. Rent can wait, my war criminal pookies can’t! …Yes I know they’re probably not actual war criminals. Yeah, I KNOW they’re… man, you’re no fun. Let me simp in peace.”

Ghost knew he hadn't exactly been the… most sound of mind, but he truly began to worry he might have been hallucinating. “The voice” had been following him for an increasingly long amount of time at this point, and he mostly tuned it out. He recently found himself in a new group though, which led to a disturbing realization that he wasn’t fully insane. His worries about that were swiped away when Soap (his new sergeant who was a little too talkative for his own good, in Ghost’s opinion) ever-so-casually asked about “the voice” he overheard during the mission, which he couldn't quite recognize. Everyone in the helicopter was surprised on the ride back, anxiously discussing that faint voice they'd all heard— had been hearing on and off during missions. It gave Ghost a whole new fear.

It was no secret that a majority of the people in base and on missions with them were men, so that distinctly feminine voice being hard to pinpoint caused a new worry among the team. The potential breach of their communication network. The topic came up as an innocent question from Soap about who “the voice” was before everyone realized they all heard that voice, contradictory in how it sounded so near yet so far, so clear yet it hurt their heads to try and process what was said, clouding their minds in a haze if they tried focusing on it for too long.

It was a clear cause for concern. 

Their task force, Task Force 141, a highly-qualified team, who frequently had taken on missions even some of the most seasoned veterans would find difficult.

Their task force, carefully hand-picked from all corners and crevices of the globe, skills compared, packed like a puzzle to cover all fronts. Their identities and information taken apart and put back together, their secrets in the open to the prying eyes of Captain Price as he was given the authority to form a team. Personalities scrutinized against one another to ensure the utmost efficiency and dynamic interactions between teammates.

Their taskforce, the best of the best, highly efficient, a well oiled machine crafted with the utmost caution for the most risky, dirty, and sometimes immoral missions that most wouldn't be able to stomach. All for the betterment of the world and for the protection of their homes and countries.

And yet they couldn't find a single trail, not a single damn clue, about this… voice. "That voice" that came and went almost exclusively on missions, too. There were very, very few cases where it breached outside of missions. Truthfully, Ghost didn't know what he found worse. That the team heard it outside of missions where they didn't have radio communication, simply just out and about, or that it had breached past the sanctity of the missions, crossing into the supposed safe zone of their respective bases, homes, and private lives. Passing the line that they usually hide behind for comfort after rough missions, the place they went to lick their wounds, to reload their guns, and to confide in each other. And this thing, brash and bold came through, kicking that metaphorical line in the sand and bouncing past their defenses without repercussions.

It started in instances where they could ignore it. 

Where it could've been just their mind playing tricks or someone who sounded similar.

At first it was Soap, running around the track and hearing it faintly. He could've mistaken it for the music blaring through his ears if it wasn't for the fact he knew the lyrics by heart, and the singer sounded nothing like "that voice".

“Whoa, Soap cutscene. We’re being fed today. Get your bowls 'n spoons.”

He could’ve sworn he even heard a ‘clank’ of glass or something. It was worse when he realized his earbuds didn't block out “the voice” anymore than usual. It was always somewhat muffled and incoherent unless he focused, even in the quiet. Yet the earbuds in his ears didn't alter it at all. He took a longer shower than usual that day, trying to let the cold water shock him enough to forget what he heard while thoughts ran wild in his head… It ended with him being slightly late to an important team meeting and getting assigned some training as punishment. He chose to keep why he was late a secret, not wanting to startle anyone about “the voice” or sound crazy.

Then it was Gaz. Friendly, slightly more inexperienced than the rest, Gaz. Gaz was on temporary time off, having accidentally pulled a muscle in his arm. He was simply walking through the streets of a nearby town where he had rented a flat. He rarely actually used the thing, since he spent most of his time at base and it was more convenient to use the barracks. Nevertheless, he still found himself in the quaint little town, going for groceries to stock his apartment's fridge. He was weaving through the streets when he heard that odd and unrestrained laugh, snorting and uncaring if it's an embarrassing laugh. 

“Gaz… my pookie-wookie, my cutie-patootie, my absolute ray of sunshine… WHOMST THE FUCK IS DRESSING YOU LIKE THAT?!”

He probably looked like a madman with how frantically he looked around, suddenly stiffened and still as some people complained behind him from how abruptly he stopped, causing them to bump into him. Yet nothing conclusive, he couldn’t even figure out the direction it came from, much less find out who it came from. He didn’t bother talking about it, only loosely mentioning it later when it came up in a discussion.

After that it was Price and Laswell. The two of them standing in a surprisingly mundane office in the base, not expecting much when that bold-fucking-voice echoed through both of their ears. Something about being a homewrecker? They… didn’t know. 

“Laswell!!! Man I wish they had her appear more often, she’s so cool… I’d totally marry her if she didn’t have a wife… What do you mean you’d become a homewrecker in seconds? Have some fuckin’ respect for the woman. Besides I thought you liked Price? He’s… single? I think?”

But it forced both of them to lose their casual mood from before, because they both heard it and neither of them knew what to think about the fact that they were hearing it outside of missions now. That… that was very bad.

The last straw was when Ghost was handing spare masks to the team when there's a faint comment about it. He can't quite hear it, can't quite wrap his mind around what's being said. No one ever seems to make out the words; at least not fully. As if there's a barricade between them and “the voice”. A veil yet to be ripped away to reveal the person underneath. A blockade made to infuriate them and taunt their attempts.

“How many do you think he has?”

A small silence follows the initial voice, as if waiting for a response, then followed with a giggle. A response unheard to his ears, to anyone’s ears. The others tense, hearing "the voice", but no one comments on it at the moment. They had a mission to get to. But they all knew they needed to do something when they got back.

“They probably do smell. They’re out there hiding in grass, getting bloody and sweaty, sometimes deployed for a month, so they definitely stink.”

And yet nothing came of that either. The only thing that changed is that they were all aware of this voice that seemed to follow them. That only their taskforce ever seemed to hear or acknowledge it. That "the voice" came from everywhere and nowhere all at once, sounding as if it was being broadcasted directly to their brains. No trace of this thing only they could perceive, and they started coming to conclusions that were less than rational; because rational thought hadn’t gotten them anywhere thus far. Gaz suggested it might’ve been a ghost, to which Price corrected that it must be a demon rather than a ghost, Soap suggested it was some weird matrix shit, then Laswell tried to convince everyone it was some weird shared delusion. They couldn’t settle on any theories. Ghost didn’t need an explanation. Or at least, he tried convincing himself that, tried telling himself he just needed this thing gone.

These abrupt drop-ins by “the voice” went on for a long while. Something they regrettably got used to. Something they let fester and become a part of them, even if they didn't know it. “That voice” ingrained into their brains, the elated giggles, the annoyed groans, the triumphant cheers, the frequent queries, answers to questions they never heard, stupid comments, everything in-between... 

Ghost didn't notice at first. Time went on, the Task Force's missions increasing after they bombed General Ghorbrani during an arms deal Ghost intercepted. Things were escalating into a silent war the general populace wouldn’t notice, and likely never know about, kept quiet and under wraps to keep the waters calm. The voice lingering on every damn mission, somehow with all of them at once even if they were in different corners of the globe. 

Then he had a wave of realization wash over him.

It was an easy mission compared to the previous few. An easy in-and-out. Just him and Soap, watching a building from afar. Biding their time. He felt anxious, a long gone twitch in his fingers resurfacing as he felt his fingers become clammy beneath his gloves. 

He had to stay calm, stay cool. He was ‘Ghost’ right now, a walking dead-man without weakness. He was strong. This mission was easy. 

This was no time to be antsy. Patience, he reminded himself. It was just him coming down from the high of adrenaline of the previous missions, all fast paced and requiring frequent combat. That's what he tried to tell himself, when that bloody Scotsman casually began chattering over the radio.

Jokes, bad ones, yet jokes he shared an enthusiasm for with Soap nonetheless. Ghost could tell there was a slight edge to his voice as he spoke though, equally antsy. He may have been somewhat distant but he was perceptive. Picked up on behaviors in others. Read them and their emotions. It was necessary in his job, and he was sure Soap probably picked up on his nervousness as well, as he was smart, even if he sometimes seemed a little air-headed and brash at times.

"No laughs from 'that person' today?" Soap feigned offense. Then they both realized. They were anxious from the lack of that person. “The voice”. They obviously didn't know who it was or their name, but everyone on the force knew who was being referred to when someone said 'that person' or “the voice”.

 It felt laughable that they were startled by some incorporeal voice not being there. If anything, they should be grateful they were spared its presence. Yet they weren’t. Ghost laid in his bed that night, sleepless, a common occurrence for him. But tonight instead of the nightmares that played when he closed his eyes, he just… contemplated. Brooding.

It was a few nights later when he came to terms with it. He knew some things were wrong with him, hell, most soldiers had something wrong with them if they worked as long as he did. But, he found himself.. weirdly fine with it. It seemed some of his teammates felt the same way as he did, and others did not. Soap made jokes out of it, unafraid around other Task Force members to refer to “the voice”, sometimes speaking directly at it, most of the time not getting much in terms of responses. There was only really one time he could make out something from “the voice” in response to one of Soap’s direct words towards it.

“That line… didn't play last time I played this one.”

It was probably one of the only things he could make the full sentence out of, and it seems everyone else on the team heard it fairly clearly as well. “...‘That line?’” Price repeated, quizzical. Referring to it like a game. 

“Must… Must be an easter egg.” A nervous laugh followed. 

The next time he found himself on a mission with that strange feeling, as if he weren’t himself, as if something else willed his way… There was almost complete silence. Unusual, a first for that sinking feeling to be there without any noise. He noticed after the missions were over that only when he had that uncomfortable feeling was "the voice" responsive. 

“Not talkative today?” He asked, not really to anything in particular and not expecting any sort of response. He could almost intuitively tell whatever “the voice” was, was there. He was again alone for this mission and that probably was what gave him the confidence to actually speak to it. He wasn’t worried about anyone hearing him and sounding crazy. And the response? Well, it was hard to hear, almost inaudible to him, but he heard a small gasp, and a shaky breath afterwards. 

…That was probably the first time the weird feeling left his body mid-mission. As if it was the one unsettled when every time it appeared, he and his teammates felt out of control, a passenger in their own body, hazed and moving as if puppets. Hearing a voice that lacked a body, floating around and seemingly coming from nowhere. It had no echo, no substance or matter, as if the sound didn't vibrate through the air.

And it was a while before he, or anyone, heard that lovely— 

…“The voice” again. He was careful not to directly reference it. Them.

Ghost thought about it some more, and found himself talking to Gaz one night at the pub, Soap hammered, currently in the bathroom while Price tried to help him to get stable enough to get to the rented car so the four of them could return to base. “Maybe Soap wasn’t too far off with the Matrix idea.” Gaz idly swirled his cup, almost devoid of liquid and only really clinking the ice in it around. He wasn’t really talking to Ghost in particular, more-so rambling to the air and himself due to him being tipsy.

Ghost leaned back in the booth, his mask barely lifted enough to allow him to drink a bourbon he’d been nursing half the night. Didn’t want a hangover the next day, he’d already be in a bad mood since he had recruits to train and they were often stupid and infuriating. “Yeah? How so?” 

Gaz, who seemed to not really mean anything when he initially spoke, sat up straighter, more zoned in on the conversation upon seeing his Lieutenant had taken an interest in what he was saying. “I was thinking about some of the things I’ve heard, that the others have heard, and just… the reactions in general. And that feeling… I don’t know if you get it but—”

“Like you’re possessed.” He interjected, knowing what he meant. Gaz’s eyes widened slightly. While they all knew about “the voice”, it seems none of them knew that weird feeling was shared. The feeling of being possessed, watched, almost like they were prey, not highly experienced military men capable of defending themselves and others. He nodded and drank the rest of his bourbon, setting it down on the table and looking back to Gaz, tucking his mask back down over his face.

“It’s just like… Like they’re playing a game. Controlling us. The reactions… It's like when you complete an objective or something. And it’d explain the feeling, like we’re controlled. Plus with how they reacted to Soap that one time, I could see it.”

“See it? The hell you seein’?” He didn't want to believe his life was a game. But Gaz made some good points. Ghost… No, Simon didn't play many games. He’d played a few party games with his team during off-time, Price convincing them that Mario-Kart was in fact a good team-bonding activity and absolutely necessary. But his off time wasn’t usually spent playing games, it just wasn’t something he could relax enough to do, never able to get calm enough to focus solely on said game.

“Imagine you’re playing a game—”

“Hard to imagine.” He barks, slightly sorry at the tone, though he wouldn’t correct himself.

Gaz sighs and continues. “Okay, imagine that it's team bonding night, and we’re playing Mario Party. Imagine everyone having a good time, laughing, chatting, playing the game, when Mario turns directly to the screen and acknowledges you. Like, unprompted, never happened before when you’ve played the game hundreds of times before? You’d probably be a little freaked out if you knew it wasn't the type of game to do something like that.”

Price interrupts, Soap slung over his shoulder and motions for them to head out to the car after he pays for the tab. Once everyone is in the car, Gaz continues.

“It’s just, the shit they said made me think about it. ‘That line’, ‘last time I played this one’, hell, them directly talking about us talking to them as an ‘easter egg’ makes it seem pretty clear to me.” Price glanced over, raising a brow at Gaz, who was sitting in the front passenger as He drove. Ghost was unfortunately stuck with a very clingy Soap in the back seat. “It’s clear whatever they were referencing is similar to a game, one they’ve played before. “

“You talking about ‘that person’? ‘The voice’?” Price sighs, slightly exasperated at the topic. He wasn’t quite convinced about "the voice" being real. He was still slightly in denial, but his slight intoxication must’ve allowed him to continue listening to the topic, not shutting down Gaz’s line of thought quite yet.

“You see what I mean though? If you were playing a game and the character you were playing just randomly acknowledges you out of nowhere, suddenly fucking sentient, you’d probably be scared shitless, especially if they’re a normal civilian.” Price hums, and Ghost blinks slowly, taking the information in and moving away from partaking in the conversation. The reaction was pretty akin to the one from when he was alone and spoke to “the voice”.

“Who’d wanna play a game involving the shite we do? We’re a bunch of soldiers doing unsavory work, I doubt that’s entertaining.” Price shakes his head, gripping the wheel a little tighter, his knuckles slightly turning white before he relaxes his hand with a sigh.

“Maybe not to us since it’s real-life. But think about it like this, a ton of people watch horror movies or slasher films. It’s not that they enjoy watching people die or get scared, but it’s like… an adrenaline thing. And you know when ‘that person’ appears most? On missions.”

This time, nobody responded. Gaz didn’t bother continuing either, already having made his point clear. An uncomfortable air settled in the car, not even forgotten the next day, even Soap somehow was capable of remembering the conversation despite the fact his head was reeling and his stomach turning in the backseat of the car.

This time they had settled on a theory.

[shytastemakerthing]

I saw that requests are open and read through the requests rules post, so I hope this is okay!

Could I ask for Pomefiore + Lillia (or any characters you think would be best) with a reader that has cubital tunnel? To put it simply, cubital tunnel is a nerve condition where a nerve running through one's elbow is inflamed or irritated. The condition acts up when writing, typing, or really anything where you bend your elbows. You can usually tell it's about to when the area from your elbiw down starts to tingle. Flares usually present as a shooting pain running from your elbow to hand, numbness from elbow to hand, or both. When it's agitated for a prolonged period of time (like typing an essay or something) it can lead to the inability to properly move your fingers. Thet get stuck in a claw like position and moving them is like operating a jerky pulley system. (This is just personal experience, so it may be different for others)

Sorry this is so long! I just throught I'd try and save you the long confusing research. I've been seeing more fafics/hc/etc. with disabled readers but mostly just the more severe conditions. I think any representation is great, I just wish there was more for the less severe and lesser acknowledged ones.

Please feel free to just delete this if you don't want to do it! Hope you're doing well <3

Hello and thank you for this request! I happen to have a friend who has cubital tunnel, and as someone who has carpal tunnel (recent diagnosis as we finally found out what was going on, on top of a cyst having formed within the same wrist XD), it is well known that it is not at all fun.

Tw: None

Prompt: Pomefioren trio + Lilia with s/o who has cubital tunnel

Vil is someone who knows all about taking care of yourself, especially when you have physical limitations that actively cause you pain daily that limits what you can and cannot do throughout your day

He knew of this condition of yours long before the two of you got together, he does notice things, after all (he also has Rook)

As he grew more interested in you, he took much more notice in just when this pain flares up, especially through such simple tasks that most wouldn't struggle with

And once together? The man is a God sent.

The second that he notices that wince coming to your face, knowing that the pain is flaring once again, he is at your side (he knows better than to touch the area in pain knowing that it could be made worse through such actions)

You are taken to his room (away from the prying eyes of others), and would begin to help you to relax as much as possible. Ice packs, heating pads, gentle massages, maybe even a numbing potion here and there to help the pain (as much as he would love to always have you take the numbing potion, as he hates to see you in such pain), he does not want you to grow too dependent on them)

Whatever it is that you need, he is there. If you happen to be in class when this happens and he is there with you? He will casually help you with the writing. Now, he isn't giving you all the answers either, you still do that part on your own, but as it is less stressful for the afflicted limb, you have no complaints

All that matters, is that he is the hero in your eyes

Also knew of the affliction before he ever actually met you..... it's Rook, of course he already knew

Even if he believes that there is beauty in pain, there is no beauty in seeing the one you have grown rather fond of being in such a state, that renders even the most simplest tasks as nearly impossible

Once together, if it had been possible, he was with you or at least watching you every step of your day. He merely wishes to know what makes the pain worse and what may seem to help

At one point, a rare time where he wasn't able to keep an eye on you, Rook even used his own UM to be able to locate you (as you somehow, even he doesn't know how, manage to know how to stay hidden from the hunter), and it was safe to say no one had seen him move so fast

When he found you, safe within the confines of his room (how did he not think to check there? It had become a favored place for you to visit), your face was dried with tears, giving small hiccups in your sleep as he saw how your afflicted limb was tenderly wrapped within a heating pad

The pain must have been rather bad today if you came here to avoid being anywhere else as well as being away from everyone (honestly, who would ever willingly come to his room??)

Not wanting to disturb your slumber, Rook merely slid off his jacket, removed his hat, and would reside on the floor next to you

He would be here the moment that you woke up and needed him

Honestly had no idea as to what this condition was. Working on orchards for as long as he could remember, Epel had seen all types of pain and injuries. It came with the work, but this was certainly new to him

As to better help you, this man certainly did his research. He wanted to show that he could protect and care for you, after all

Learning that pretty much anything so simple can become virtually impossible without severe pain certainly made his chest tighten. Something so simple as writing or just brushing your teeth could cause the pain to flare

Also learned to not touch anywhere that the pain is currently residing as that could easily make it so much worse

The last thing he wants to do is cause you more pain

Once the two of you are together, he carried a backpack with him, aside from his school supplies being in it, it also holds anti-inflammatory medication, a brace, and anything else that could help

While some may mock or ridicule him, he sees it as him being a great partner for the one he loves

Vil praised him for this and it honestly felt really nice to hear. While Epel wasn't looking for such praise, it was nice to be recognized, especially when he was taking care of you

If there is anything that you need, anything at all that could help when the pain begins to flare once again, or even something simple, just let him know and he will get it for you

With how long that this fae has been around, it would honestly be a surprise if he had yet to hear of a condition such as this. Chances are, he has encountered many people in his time who suffer from this affliction

And now that he knows that you also suffer from such affliction, knowing just how hard it makes things, how much pain that it puts you in everyday?

If you thought he was doting then, this is a whole new level

As much as he really is wanting to help, it does seem a bit much (never eat anything he brings to you, just in case)

If it gets to be too much, just let him know what you really do need, and he will listen

When you show up in the middle of the night, eyes red from tears, Lilia automatically knows what is going on and ushers you gently into his room

He quickly leaves a message on his game, turns everything off, and climbs into bed next to you

Holding you carefully in his arms, he summons whatever magic he can to help numb wherever the pain is located

When you finally fall asleep, the pain now decreases to more of a dull throb, all he wishes, when he looks at those stars, is that this pain be taken away from you. It absolutely shatters his heart.

It takes him another good hour before he finally falls asleep next to you, after gently placing a kiss to the top of your head

Thank you for your request!! Have a wonderful day/night!

[reevesdriver]

The 141 Clinic: Crack It (NSFW)

Summary: Your lower back is killing you so when you mention it to your mum and she recommends a gruff and handsome chiropractor that can work wonders with his hands who are you to refuse?

Word count: 2625

Reader: Female reader

Character(s): Captain John Price / AU Chiropractor Price

Warning(s): NSFW / 🔥🔥🔥 / Smut / Pervert behaviour / Masturbation / Fingering / Oral sex (Fem Receiving) /

Support Me: Kofi

(AN: I woke up in the middle of the night and my back was killing me and this idea came to my head so enjoy. Also I've always wanted to go to a Chiropractor and get cracked like a glow stick, is that normal or am I just getting old??) (Also I'm not a chiropractor but I've seen some videos here and there so for the sake of the fic let's pretend I know what I'm talking about.)

Your back was well and truly, fucked. After throwing it out doing something you can't remember you'd popped some painkillers and hoped for the best. Unfortunately for you no matter how much resting, stretching and painkiller taking you did nothing seemed to be working. A few days post back throw-out you were sat in your mums kitchen slowly massaging your lower back with a grimace on your face.

"Oh dear, has the pain not subsided yet?" She stopped in the middle of her conversation to ask when she saw the pained look on your face.

"Normally it goes after a day or two but it's been almost a week now and it's still the same."

"Hmm." She thought. "My friend Val said there is masseuse clinic that opened up not too long ago next to that new gym. I'll get the number from her hold on."

Before you could protest she left the room to grab her phone, it couldn't hurt to go and see a professional could it? If you went to the doctors they would tell you to rest and take painkillers and so far that had done nothing for you so why not give it a go? She returned to the room, phone in hand, and opened on a text message thread. "Val said to ask for John Price, he's the Chiropractor who helped her hubby with his back pain a few months ago. She said he's very handsome too."

You nod adding the number to your phone and choosing not to acknowledge the last thing your mother said, her friend Val had terrible taste in men so you were positively sure that the Chiropractor would be nothing special. Pressing the number you just saved you raised your phone to your ear as it started to ring. After a few rings you heard the phone being picked up and the deep and gruff voice on the other side of the line immediately made you lose your train of thought. "Hi this is the 141 clinic how can I help you."

"Oh, uh, hi, sorry. I'm looking to book an appointment with John Price please."

"That's me love, can I take some of your details and reasoning as to why you're looking for an appointment." God his voice was like velvet, goosebumps rose on your arms and you felt the hair on the back of your neck stand.

"H-Hi Mr Price." You stutter and quickly give out your name and details. "The appointment is for my back, I threw it out about a week ago and no amount of rest or painkillers is getting rid of the pain."

"Ok I see, I can fit you in tomorrow at 5pm if that's any good? If I get a cancelation I could get you in earlier but if not then it'll have to be that time please."

"Yeah, that's fine. Is there anything I need to do before the appointment?"

"Nothing at all love, just turn up and make sure you're wearing something comfortable. I'm going to put you in all sorts of positions so best not to have anything movement-restricting on." John spoke and then grinned when he heard the sharp intake of breath from the receiver.

“Ok I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow love, bye.” He hung up and added your appointment to his diary for his own record. Your mum smiled at you as you put your phone down on the counter. “Well did you get an appointment.” She asks with a knowing smirk.

"Yeah, that was Mr Price on the phone, he's booked me in for tomorrow."

"Oh is that why you blushed?" She laughs.

"I'm not blushing, I just didn't expect his voice to be so deep."

"Mhmm." She smirks and you shake your head in response.

You spend the next day working from home perched on your office chair at your desk as you replied to emails and sorted through documents to try and occupy your mind. Anxiety crept in as you checked the time on your laptop and saw that it was nearing 4pm. Deciding you were done working for the day you clocked off and took a quick shower before riffling through your closet for some cycling shorts and a baggy top. They were comfortable and non-restricting, just what Mr Price had said to wear.

Once dressed you grabbed your bag and shoved your purse and a bottle of water into it before pulling up your phone and typing in the name of the business so you could get directions once you got into your car. The drive didn't take long and soon you were pulling into the almost empty car park which was dimly lit. Parking up you took your keys from the ignition and made your way towards the building after grabbing your bag and locking the car.

Entering the building you were hit with a sweet smell of flowers and fruits from the wax melt that was burning near the reception desk. An older lady with glasses perched on the edge of her nose looks up to you as you enter. "Hi Miss, can I help you?" She asks with a smile.

"Hi yes, I have an appointment with Mr Price. I'm a little early." You shift nervously.

"Of course you must be the last appointment of the day, follow me please." She says standing from her chair and rounding the desk. You anxiously follow her down a hallway and stop a little behind her as she knocks on a door before entering.

"Mr Price, this young lady has an appointment with you." She says as she holds the door open urging you to step into the doorway and you fight the urge to drop your jaw at the man sat behind a desk.

"Hi." He greets you with your name and stands extending a hand out to you. You step forwards and shake it making note of the size difference between your dainty hand and his large muscular one that had specks of hair on the knuckles. "You're free to go Dorris, lock the door on your way out please."

"Thank you Mr Price, I'll see you tomorrow." She replies and with that the door to the room shuts and you're left alone with the very handsome chiropractor.

"You seem nervous love, I've not scared you have I?"

"N-No not at all, I've just never had anything like this done before so I'm a little anxious that's all."

"Well I promise you're in safe hands, but if you feel uncomfortable at any point just let me know and we can stop ok?" He says and you nod in response. "Good, now you said it was your back that was hurting you so I'll make a start with that, if you lie down on the table for me darling I'll have a quick feel and see what I can do."

You nervously dropped your bag against the wall and took off your jacket and shoes before stepping over to the table. Kneeling into the material you quickly lie down onto your belly and rest your arms to the side of you. You feel him step to your side. "So where do you work sweetheart?" He asks as he runs his hands up and down your spine and across the expanse of your shoulder blades.

"I work from home, just admin work mostly." You explain and for once you wished you had a better sounding job.

"You spend a lot of time sat at a desk?" He asks as he feels different points on your back and gives them little tugs here and there. He's trying to work out any knots he can find before he turns to cracking and so far he's having a field day with your middle and lower back.

"Um yeah, a few hours sometimes. I try and take breaks when I can but I get so stuck into my work that sometimes I forget."

He tuts. "That's not good for your back darling no wonder you're in pain." You hum in agreement and try to steady your breathing as his digits roll over your vertebrae. "Okay I think I know where your problem is. I want you to breathe in for me when I say so doll and exhale as I push, can you do that for me?" He asks and awaits your reply.

"Yeah, I can do that."

"Good girl." He says gruffly and you clench your thighs together, an action that doesn't go unnoticed by him. "Breathe in doll ... and breathe out." On the exhale his heavy hands press into your spine which cracks and almost instantly you can feel a wave of relief wash over you. The pain that was nagging you all week had finally subsided and you couldn't help but let out a breathy moan at the feeling.

"That do the trick darling?"

"Yeah, fuck, thank you."

You feel him lift the bottom of your t-shirt up. "I just need to have another feel of your back, easier to do it without clothes in the way. Can I undo your bra?" He asks and you gasp softly.

"Of course." You reply a little too quickly earning a throaty chuckle from the man. "You're an eager one aren't you." His hand runs up your bare spine and you feel his fingers pinch your bra as he expertly undoes it with just a finger and thumb.

You feel him lift a leg over the bench so he's straddling your body, his hips resting dangerously close to your arse as he rubs your back feeling each vertebrae. John reaches to the side of the table and starts to lift a section of it up, you feel your arse begin to rise in the air as your pelvis is pushed upwards from the cushioned bench.

"So, how long have you been a Chiropractor for?" You ask trying to distract your mind from the position you're in.

"About 10 years, a couple of my mates and I had the idea to put our skills together and open this place up as well as the gym next door."

"That's nice that you're all working together, you must be close."

"Yeah we are." He says and edges himself closer to you so his hips are pressing against your arse. The growing bulge in his sweatpants prods at your rear and he can hear your breaths deepen and sees your fists clench around the edge of the bench when he presses against you. He finds another spot he wants to crack and makes you breathe in again. On your exhale he presses down onto your lower back, nudging his cock against your closed arse and pushes his palms until he hears the crack.

You let out a breathy moan. Any attempts to stop the sound are futile as John bends over your body, his rough hands wrap around the sides of the bench as he lowers his mouth to your ear. "You alright there darling?"

"Mhmm, perfect." You say, your voice muffled slightly. John laughs softly, he's looking at your face, your cheeks are flushed and there's drops of sweat on your forehead. You let out another soft moan when you feel his cock twitch against your rear, eager to be touched.

John rises back up and runs his palms against your back once more, he can feel the delicate little hairs on your back rise slightly as he moves his hands to cup your arse. "I think we're all done with your appointment sweetheart." He says and you whine again. An hour had passed by so quick and although you felt relief with the pain in your back gone you still craved his touches. Your ears prick up when you hear him continue. "Unless there is anything else you'd like me to help you with?"

"Please John, touch me." Your voice more clearly now since you've raised your head to look back at him.

"Are you sure?" He questions and you quickly nod.

In one swift motion John moves his hands from your arse cheeks to the waistband and is tugging your shorts and underwear down and off your legs, discarding the clothing haphazardly across the room.

"Fuck." He mutters seeing the gloss that is smeared across your inner thighs. Your arse is still raised on the portion of the bench and he has a clear view of your leaking pussy. You wiggle your arse slightly earning a rough strike to the plump cheek. "So needy." He says and immediately dives his fingers into your sopping heat.

You moan at the intrusion, two thick fingers eagerly pump inside of your wet cunt with ease. "So wet, so warm, fuck." He groans feeling your walls clench around his digits. John retracts his fingers as quickly as he'd put them there and before you could protest the lack of him he presses his wide tongue against your pussy. Effortlessly he lifts your hips up a bit more with his hands and laps at your clit, devouring your pussy and coating his stubble with your juices.

His tongue moves feverishly between lapping the small bundle of nerves and diving into your cunt. Your nails dig into the leather of the bench as he eats your pussy better than any man ever has, spit and cum is drenching his face and your pussy so much that you almost miss the rough slaps of skin on skin as John tugs his cock.

"God John, fuck." You breathe as you cum against his face, legs jerking so much that they threaten to fall off the bench. John pulls his face from your pussy and jerks his cock quicker, throwing his head back he plasters your arse with thick ropes of cum, an animalistic moan falling from his mouth as he climaxes.

When a few seconds pass you finally speak. "Do all your clients get this kind of treatment?" You ask panting, a hint of jealousy present in your tone.

"That wouldn't be very professional of me now would it?" He replies and you laugh. He grabs some wet wipes from off his desk and cleans you up before wiping his cock and tucking it back into his pants.

“You did really well today sweetheart though I feel you would benefit with these appointments becoming a regular occurrence. I’m going to put in a recommendation for you with some of my colleagues too and we can take it from there."

You blush. "Thank you John." You say moving off the bench and tugging your shorts back up your body, your underwear nowhere in sight. Being the gentleman he is he helps you put your shoes back on and ties the laces for you before forcing his lips against yours. You can taste yourself on his mouth and tongue as runs his hands up your body and around to your back where he refastens your bra with ease.

"You're free to go." John says finally detaching his mouth from yours. You stay stood still for a moment, catching your breath and trying to calm your legs that are still numb from pleasure. John watches as you throw your bag over your shoulder and grab your jacket from the floor. He opens the door for you and leads you back to the front doors, the building now completely empty from any staff who would have been walking around before your appointment.

"I'll see you soon love." He says opening the door for you once more and allows you to step outside into the cold air. With a smile you turn away from him and slowly walk back to your car unaware of John pushing your underwear deeper into his pocket.

[kolsmikaelson]

— RAFE CAMERON NSFW ALPHABET

NOTES - first time writing for rafe so i hope i did him justice. not proofread so ignore any typos!

WARNINGS - nsfw 18+ content, fem!reader

join my taglist or follow @rodrickhefley to see when i post

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

never really did much aftercare with his past partners other than clean them up and send them on their way, but now he still cleans his partner up, gets a glass of water and holds them close for a while.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

rafes favorite body part of his would be his arms i think like have you seen them? and his favorite body part of his partners would be their ass (he’s an ass guy what can i say)

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

he loves cumming on your face, it’s one of his favorite things to see

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

he has a huge mommy kink

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

he’s quite experienced, he’s slept around for a while and definitely knows what he’s doing

F = Favorite position ( goes without saying)

anything with you on top of him, it gives him easier access to suck on your tits and rub harsh circles on your clit

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

he tries not to be goofy, and he usually isn’t but sometimes things happen and he gets a little giggly

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

decently groomed, doesn’t do very much other than keep it trimmed

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

he’s rough and he can be mean but he always, always makes sure you get off before him. he doesn’t care about his own pleasure nearly as much as he cares about yours

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

jacks off pretty regularly but he’d rather you do it for him ;)

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

mommy kink, spit (giving), praise (receiving), he loves sucking on your tits

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

anywhere that’s semi-public, he loves the feeling of there being a chance of getting caught. his car is probably his favorite spot though

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

anything about you gets him going, it’s not difficult at all

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

he’s really up for anything that you’d want to do but no bodily fluids (minus spit and cum)

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

definitely prefers giving but looooves receiving too. i think pleasuring his partner gives him so much pleasure too so he doesn’t care either way

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

fast and rough majority of the time, unless something happens it’s not often that he’s slow with you

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

he adores taking his time with you to tear you apart but he likes a nice quickie every once in a while

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

yep! he’s down for almost anything

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

3 rounds minimum. but he can go for hours if you’d let him

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

he loves using toys, mostly on you but his favorite is using a vibe on you because he loves the way it makes you clench around him

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

oh he’s obsessed with teasing you, doesn’t matter where you are or what you’re doing theres a 99% chance he’s gonna find a way to tease you

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

he’s not super loud, he prefers you to be the loud one

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

loves to watch you ride things, whether it be a dildo, a pillow, his thighs, it doesn't matter it gets him so hard

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

oh he’s big. im thinking about 6 (7 when he’s hard) inches and he’s decently girthy too. i think in the beginning he’s not very well groomed but if his partner makes one comment about it, he’ll get it under control immediately

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

high. like i said, he’ll go for hours on end if you let him

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

he falls asleep pretty quickly after taking care of you and cleaning you up, he has you in his arms and that’s all that matters to him

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