#thank you for the gifts peeps

[gfawkesphoenixchokingonashes]

Settling in with a cup of coffee to hit my reading list. Holy crap, all of you. All. Of. You. Are so bloody talented. I love the Steve / Buckiness out of you!

[westealtoys]

@extreme-neutral caught me completely off guard with this fantastic drawing of Ryder they made. Salt, thank you for this sweetest surprise!

[puffpawstries]

I HAD TO QUICKLY DOODLE THIS MY REACTION AND EMOTIONS FOR THIS

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, KAILEE!! — @puffpawstries 🥳✨

did you know there's a cultivar of orange chrysanthemums called hannah? i bet they'd make a perfect gift for a certain someone. :3c

AAND A LIL BONUS :

i was imagining ichi being the one giving honno the bouquet so i wanted to doodle him reporting back to the person who helped pick them out hehe.

[lalunanymph]

𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓 — toji fushiguro

you love spoiling your husband rotten

The sun creeps across his scarred, tan skin, and it’s not long before he feels your fingers doing the same.

Down his abs, over his pecs; slowly etching the tattoos curling around his biceps and arms with a soft touch he knows all too well. 

He resists the urge to grin, pretending to be asleep so you could continue with your naughty exploration. You sigh, and the sound tugs on his heartstrings. Toji thinks it's time to end this little game of yours before he does something you’ll regret starting. 

“A bit early to be a tease, don’t you think?” 

His sleep-roughened voice stops you short. Your fingers freeze in their unhurried path up his pecs, your breath faltering out in a whoosh. 

“T-Toji,” you stammer, and this time, he cracks his eyes open, a lazy smile lifting the corners of his lips.

“Mornin’, dollface.” Huffing, he pulls you on top of him, your naked skin intimately flushed against his. Late night scenes from last night play in his mind, a dirty reel on loop as he repays the favor, stroking your hips and thighs; running those calloused fingertips all over the marks stretching across your belly. 

“Those monsters still asleep?” 

You nod. “Haven’t heard a peep from them.” 

The golden band around his ring finger is cool when it touches your neck. Fighting back a shiver, you crane into his caress, almost purring with how delicately he’s touching you.

“Megs will be awake soon,” he murmurs, but it doesn’t stop him from grinding his stiffening hardness into your thigh.

You bite down on your lower lip, and Toji groans.

Your husband, still fit and handsome, dazzles you with a smirk, untucking your lip from the confines of your teeth.

“Oh, darlin’,” he mumbles. “You’re not supposed to do that—you know how wild that makes me.”

Shifting while straddling his thighs, you can’t pretend to not want this, especially when it's Toji of all people who’s looking at you through heavy lids, the tip of his tongue briefly touching the split skin of his scarred lip. 

“Get on this dick, baby,” he exhales huskily. 

Obediently, you mount him, letting him lift up your hips.

“Oh—Toji,” your caught gasp turns into a low moan when he stretches past the tight muscle, inching you down onto his leaking, throbbing cock. 

There’s nothing in the world that can make him go insane other than the feeling of your walls lovingly wrapped around his thick length. Your tinier hands brace on his broad pecs, and you lean forward, tits right in his face and within inches from his mouth.

Toji lets you ride him slow and easy, perfectly happy to suck on your nipples till they're tight and sensitive. Your gasps hit the shell of his ear, and he fights back a shiver when you moan his name so sweetly it almost sounds like a hymn. 

Sunlight splotches across your skin, illuminating you with an ethereal glow that Toji can’t keep his eyes off of. 

You lean back, letting him touch the deepest parts of you while you continue to grind down on him in sensual circles.

“Happy Father’s Day, Toji.”

Your breathy wish makes him chuckle, and he starts to rub your clit, humming in pure adoration.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

Best Father’s Day gift ever. 

While some schmuck was getting a stick drawing from his kid and the cold shoulder from his old wife, Toji couldn’t help but think his gift was the absolute perfect start to the day. 

Your mouth falls open, breathing growing heavier. He feels your walls pulse, your thighs starting to shake.

“Toji,” you whimper. “C-close.”

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” he hums, increasing the rough circles he was rubbing with his thumb. “Are you going to be good for me? Going to cum for me?” He groans when you start to choke on his dick, and he can’t fight off the tense muscles and feral need to blow his entire soul into you. “Or, do you wanna make me a daddy again, hmm?” 

Your hips stutter, and you cry out softly. “Yes.” Your eyes screw shut and he can’t have that. Toji’s free hand snakes around your throat, squeezing down on your windpipe just to hear you choke. 

A cruel smirk draws up his lips, and he snickers. “Yes, what? What does a dirty whore like you really want?” 

Your nails stab into his calves, and you shake your head from side to side, nipples peeking through the curtain of your hair; you’re trembling from head to toe. 

“Daddy,” you manage to garble out, gasping when he slaps your ass to push you to ride him faster. “Oh—wanna make you a daddy again.”

“Fuck,” he spits out, grabbing your hips, jackhammering you up and down his raw, red cock. “Knew you’d want that, you little fucking slut. Fuck. Gonna fill you up all hot and thick, yeah? Keep my cock in there until it fucking takes and you become my little pregnant whore again.”

He pinches your nipples, slaps your tits so they jiggle obscenely. Your cries are cut off by his fingers in your mouth, gagging you into silent submission.

“M’wan it,” you gurgle around his digits, eyes glassy and lips wet with spit. “M’want your cum, Daddy.” 

All the muscles in his body tenses. He’s hanging by a fucking thread.

“Oh, fuck.” He groans, gorgeous green eyes rolling back into his skull. You’re as delirious as him, biting down on your lower lip to stifle your moans, going cross eyed when he hits the golden spot inside of you which has your eyes fluttering close.

“Look at me.” 

Toji’s rough demand and rougher hand grips your chin, forcing you to look at him. 

“Look at me when you cum, baby.”

You can’t keep the flood at bay, your body crumbling under his pressure. 

Your husband is quick to catch you when you lapse into his arms, thrusting up into you as you can do nothing but take, take, take.

Those big hands spread your cheeks wider, and you love the feel of them on your body—so sturdy and strong.

There’s a tight tension coiling deep inside of you, and your eyes squeeze shut, mouth falling open as the band breaks and you shiver—flooding down his cock with a soft cry of his name.

Good girl, he moans. Cumming so pretty f’me. 

Toji grunts, lips pulled back of over his teeth, snarl ready to devour you and plug you so full of him it fucking takes and you’ll be so round and glowing just for him—

“Papa!” His eyes wrench wide when he comes to the mortifying realization it's not you calling out for him.

The door slams open, and Toji barely has time to throw the blanket over your shoulders when three small figures come barging in.

You yelp, darting under his armpit as your two twin girls and son joyously crow out, “Happy Father’s Day!” 

None of them, bless their tiny hearts, notice you’re both naked under the sheets. The orgasm he’s been denied rears its ugly head and Toji has to try his damndest not to grimace when his girls run over to him, stars in their eyes and butterfly pajamas rumpled.

“Darlings, what did mama say about barging in with no permission?”

In spite of the situation, you couldn’t help but burst out into tiny giggles at the disappointment on his face. 

Serves him right. Now he knows how heartbreaking and sore it is to be on the receiving end of denial. 

Toji can’t even shoot you a glare, not when his baby girl is clinging to his neck, rubbing her face into his 5 o’clock shadow.

“Dada, miss you,” she hums. “Wanna breakfast.” 

Megumi, shyer than his two twin sisters, is the only one to notice your bare shoulder under the blanket. 

“Ma, did you just come out from the shower?”

Hearing his question, Toji groans, head thrown back against the pillow. 

Glowering at all three of his dark-haired squirts, he raises a brow, scarred lips twisted into a grimace.

“Okay, all of you. You need to get out of our room and go brush your teeth.”

Megumi opens his mouth to protest, but Toji quells it with a sour look. 

“Now. Stat. Go.” 

Taking pity on your three little troublemakers, you sigh and shake your head. “C’mon, darlings. Go and brush your teeth. I’ll be with you in a few minutes and then we can make pancakes for Papa, okay?”

Mentioning the twins’ favorite breakfast was enough for them to cry out in joy and bound out of the room. Megumi lags behind, still suspicious as to why his father and stepmom were both being evasive.

But, the idea of pancakes appeals to him even more, especially when you make his favorite chocolate chip one, and the boy leaves you two alone. 

The door closes and Toji groans, pushing his sweaty bangs from his forehead. “We really need to remember to lock the door next time.”

You hum. “At least Tsumiki is with my mom. She’d probably freak out.”

Gathering yourself with enough composure, you lean forward, intending to give him a chaste kiss when Toji grabs your ass, dragging you back onto his lap.

“Baby,” you warn, but he’s not listening, trailing kisses down your neck. “The kids—”

“—can wait,” he murmurs, green eyes darkening, filled with an insatiable hunger just for you. 

Smacking his shoulder, you giggle. If there’s one thing your daughters inherited from you, it was your impatience whenever food was mentioned. “Barbarian. You know that door will not stand against Sora and Seia. We have plenty of time for that after breakfast.” 

To soothe his stinging ego, you tenderly cup his cheek, nuzzling both your noses together.

“In fact, we have until lunch. So, you better keep your promise to knock me up again after this, Fushiguro Toji.”

Toji can’t help it when you smile this brightly, putty to your charms.

“Fine. You win this time, Mrs. Fushiguro.”

— literally could not stop thinking abt him i think i need to be sedated .... rbs and comments are neat thank you <3

©️ lalunanymph.

[tokuteasings]

Hey, since its your birthday, I got a present for you. Happy Birthday! and

for the angst queen

How do you think Banjou reacted upon learning that Eiji died? Banjou really looked up to Emu, Eiji, and Gentaro. How did Banjou Ryuga react to Eiji's death?

Also was there a reaction for Emu for Eiji's death?

I did post what Emu thought about EIji's death here~!

But thank you for the bday wishes! As for Ryuga fufufu

He actually lets out this sad and hoarse chuckle, this light not reaching his eyes, "Y-You're joking right?" he's not laughing for the sake of brushing it off, but laughing because this simply cannot be true.

Eiji was always larger than life and he's this shining sun that everyone idolized from kouhai to senpai. For him to die means a light in the world has been snuffed out and they lost someone who made it a better place. So when someone confirms it (Gentaro, Emu, or even Ankh and Sento) Ryuga just...shuts down for a second.

You see him a moment later, slamming into various punching bags with these angry little tears streaming down his eyes before he just stops and curls up into this fetal position on the floor and murmurs out, "IT's not fair that you had to go."

He runs to the grave as fast as he could and the first thing he states through these tears are, "Why did you have to go," and the words die in his mouth soon after. He's one of the more frequent visitors to Eiji's grave, not bringing flowers often (if he does they're small and plastic so they can last forever and never wilt, like how Eiji's will and memory will live on in all of their memories) and tells him about his day after this beat of awkward silence.

"So like..." Ryuga would murmur, "I'm going to keep on fighting, for the greater good, just like you have taught me." And he hopes that Eiji is proud of him.

Takeru had to tell Ryuga that Eiji's ghost told him to tell Ryuga that he was indeed proud of him and you see Ryuga trying not to cry right on the spot-

[gaypirate420]

Gift // Viktor.

Viktor x gender neutral!reader.

Summary: You give Viktor a very special gift.

Fluff.

Swoooosh.

Viktor's brown fluffy hair flies as Jayce maneuvers with the prototype of their next Hextech tool. Swinging it around like it's weightless.

"Don't you want to give it a try, Vik?" Jayce asks between swings at the paler man, holding the hammer towards his direction at the end. Viktor's amber gaze looks at the thing up and down and shakes his head, he runs a lazy hand to brush his hair.

"I don't think I'll be able to lift it." Viktor mutters with a dry chuckle. Jayce laughs softly and nods. The small click of the door opening makes the two men look over.

"Is there any dangerous science thingy going on?" You ask as you peep your head inside. Jayce smirks at how fast Viktor takes his cane and stands up, a soft whine leaves him as he limps over to the door, opening it wider for you.

"No, miláčku." Viktor spoke softly, a faint smile adorning his tired face. You smiled and stepped inside, you were holding two bags. You pressed a soft kiss on the Zaunite's lips, making him feel weak at the knees immediately.

"Hello, boy genius." You whisper with a small smirk on your face, the pale man smiled widely, a soft pink blush adorning his cheeks, he whispered a greeting.

"Greetings, Jayce." You smiled as you greeted the taller man with a small wave who stood there fidgeting with the hammer, pretending not to be the third wheel the second you came in.

"Hey." Jayce nods his head, he puts the hammer down and starts walking away a little not-so discretely to escape the tenderness of you and Vitkor.

"Wait, wait!" You called, the taller man stopped and looked at you, Viktor tilts his head. You smiled and walked further inside.

"I know you two have been working hard, so I brought you a little something." You spoke softly, both men smiled and walked closer to you as you placed your bags on top of a free desk.

"For Jayce. I made some garlic bread because I know you liked it when you had dinner with us last time." You slice a small container to Jayce's side, the taller man smiled widely, his mouth watering.

"Thank you so much!" He spoke excitedly before leaving you and Viktor alone. You chuckled and looked over to your partner whose amber eyes try to peek inside the bag.

"First, some homemade cookies and sweet milk." You spoke softly, taking out the bottle and container. The pale man smiled and his cheeks got even redder, he opened the bottle and took a sip of the sweet milk, it felt so comforting on his empty stomach.

"And, I was practicing my crotchet and found a very peculiar pattern. I thought it was cute." You explain as you took something else out of the bag.

Viktor's golden eyes widen.

"I'm not sure if it's a hundred percent accurate to the real one." You giggled nervously as you showed the pink crotchet plushie to the inventor. He placed the bottle down, his pale hands taking the plushie like it was something so delicate. Like a baby or an antique.

"...Rio." He mumbled ever so softly as he stared at the chubby little thing. His fingers fiddled with the crochet anathenas, the tail. The Zaunite blinks a couple of times and looks back at you.

"It looks like Rio." He speaks a little louder, his voice laced with vulnerability. Your smile softens as you watch Viktor holding the plushie closer to his chest, you nodded.

The Zaunite holds the small creature close, his fingers caressing each crochet delicately.

"You have a great talent for these things, moje lásko." He speaks softly against the plushies head. You smiled softly, your eyes couldn't tear apart from this tender scene. You two stayed in a comfortable silence, Viktor roamed through the plushie, cuddling and whispering things in his native tongue.

He looked up at you, his amber eyes with a new shine you've never seen before.

"Does that mean you liked it?" You ask with a faint smirk. The Zaunite laughs and nods, he leans closer and presses a soft kiss on your forehead.

"I love it very much. It will never leave my side." He whispers softly. His stomach growls, breaking the tender moment. A soft giggle escapes your lips, making Vitkor smile wider. The sound of your laughter was always appreciated by him.

"I think you need those cookies, love." You mutter with a smirk, he nods with a chuckle.

"Eh- yes." He whispers with a soft red tint on his cheeks.

"And a nap." You add quickly, maybe he'll say yes this time. Viktor tries to argue but the soft plushie on his arms is compelling him to cuddle it.

"Also yes." He mumbles. You smile and take the cookie box and sweet milk, almost running towards the couch that lays in a corner of the lab. The inventor smiles softly, taking his cane and following behind you at a slower pace.

----------------------------------------------------------

Jayce footsteps approached the lab. It's been a little over an hour, he enjoyed the bread and was ready to return to his work with a clear mind.

He opened the door, made a few steps towards his desk before turning to his right, finding Viktor's desk empty. He looked around the lab before laying eyes on the couch.

Viktor was laying down, a blanket around his slender body, his head on your lap and eyes closed. The taller man spotted the chubby pink plushie on the Zaunite's arms.

His eyes fall on you, mindlessly stroking Viktor's head, your eyes on him, like you're trying to burn this image into your memory. Your head lifts when you hear Jayce's step closer, a soft warmth creeps on your cheeks.

The taller man laughed softly, he waved his hand trying to tell you that everything was alright. He stared at his peacefully asleep lab partner before turning around with silent steps, making his way out of the lab again.

If Viktor can nap with his partner then nothing stops him from looking for Mel.

A/N:(Request are open)Surprise supriseeeeeee. Hello, I have returned to the arcane fandom. I hope y'all enjoyed this little fic, it's been a while since I wrote for Viktor so I'm a little rusty.(Divider)

[sexlapis]

[◉°] … TOJI AND Y/N BEING A COUPLE FOR 10 MINUTES STRAIGHT (PART 5) … 899k views

꩜ : actor!toji x gn!reader

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 (they are actress!reader)

sfw for the most part, fluff, crack, peeping toms & perverts (toji deals w them <3), cute babies, use of y/n

⤷ the way tojiyn is just real at this point…

a/n: thank you so much for 3000 followers that is literally crazy! thank you all sm for enjoying and supporting my fanfics🩷🩷. as a gift u all get more actor toji. i just missed him <33

_____= your name

masterlists

from the actor![character] series:

actor!toji masterlist

actor!nanami & actress!yn being a couple

actor!levi & gn!reader being a couple

taglist: @okayiamkassandra | @tiredslepz | @hayatslife | @shxyxyxxxx | @snowprincesa1 | @laylasbunbunny | @mimiemie | @ncentic | @rosesored | @imover-18 | @gintokhi | @suzuperstarr | @lostgxrlblog | @jallie10 | @nnsav | @bunnyx-sakura | @bubbabobabubbles | @ladytamayolover | @keiva1000 | @morgyyyyyyy | @studiecoherence | @earth2fae | @ce-namonreads | @ib4ryuguji | @hisjaegerist | @basiloverthyme | @sweet-kiwi | @sayitowshi | @iovemytoru | @thecompletechaosmaster | @sugutoad | @inumakiiz | @uzxotic | @1meshugge1 | @kunikuzushisbeloved

*

꩜ first clip

posted on toji’s (mostly inactive) instagram, a clip of you with a little baby no more than a year old standing on your lap. you make funny, expressive faces as she giggles and mumbles in an adorable, pure manner. the pinnacle of innocence.

“look at that! who’s that, baby?” you ask the baby, referring to the person behind the camera.

you turn her around, making her look up. she points, her face beaming with a toothless smile.

“ahh!” she squeaks.

you giggle.“it’s toji!”

a huff is heard from behind the camera and a big hand comes and strokes the baby’s chubby cheeks. “hi princess.”

the clip ends there, but the reaction from the internet only begins.

-

@ynb11111gestfan

a baby??? wtf did i miss???!:!:!

@justalurkeracx0unt

YOU GUYS ADOPTED?????????

@gojosbl!ndfold

which one of you gave birth

@tojizbigfatbreederballzinmymouf

girldad toji? my biggest dreams have come true💕💕

⤷ @herbigdoeeyesss

YOUR NAME?????

-

it’s safe to say, everyone was confused about who this random baby was. so, you were the one to clear things up by posting a video on your story;

“i’m sorry for the confusion guys. yes, me and toji had a baby. toji had a very long labour and he worked so hard and gave birth to a little baby girl <3”

well, that cleared things up.

꩜ second clip

toji walks out of a elevator and is…carrying you in his arms. bridal style. with your bodyguards following close behind (not that you need bodyguards when toji is with you).

the man holding the camera asks toji, “why are you carrying them?”

instead, you respond with a shrug, “my feet hurt.”

toji doesn’t even react. he just walks down the corridor, carrying you like he does it every day.

꩜ third clip

shortly after you began filming for a minor role in a popular television series, there are rumours floating around of toji allegedly physically assaulting one of the members of staff on set.

of course, everyone has all kinds of theories of what happened, but many people are not surprised because, well…it’s toji. they are not shocked by this type of behaviour coming from him.

but then, all is revealed by TMZ in a short youtube video, being a oh so nosy individuals they are:

“we got leaked information about what happened on that set. apparently, the staff member had been secretly recording y/n in their caravan, even when they were getting dressed! disgusting, i know. it’s said that toji spotted them and ‘took’ matters into his own hands. and by that, i mean throwing hands. toji is now being accused of assault by said staff member. in my eyes,” the reporter throws his hands up, shrugging, “that freak got what was coming!”

after that, people are on toji’s side, praising him for what he did. but enough people believed his actions to be extreme and overly violent.

so he releases an apology for his actions in a video, in which it is very clear that he had just woken up and he was still in bed:

“hey everyone. i know just about everyone’s heard of what happened. i would just like everyone to know that…i don’t care,” he chuckles, “i really don’t give a shit. i would do it again if it had to. that piece of shit deserved what he got. i’m only sorry for not breaking his other arm.”

꩜ fourth clip

you and toji are on the red carpet in paris, being interviewed about an awards show and your time in the country.

“so, have you two seen any of the sights and attractions in paris?”

“uhhhmm, no not so much. we really wanted to but we’ve just been uhh, really, really-” you pause for a moment, a second too long as you look at toji, who is staring at you. even from this angle, toji is seen to be smirking and he winks at you.

you blink rapidly and turn back to the interviewer. “busy. yeah, we’ve been really busy.”

“that’s one way to put it.” toji chimes in.

a tojiyn truther favourite.

꩜ fifth clip

you and toji, wanting to raise money for charity, decided ti participate in the bake-off, a televised baking competition.

“okay!” you start, excited.

the excitement doesn’t last very long.

“what even is this [BLEEP]?”

“toji! don’t swear! they have to bleep that out!”

off you and toji go, baking in such a disorderly and chaotic fashion, even the other participants are looking at you sideways.

multiple bleeps are edited in due to toji’s creative language.

“phew!” you breathe out. “i think we’re making good time-”

“ten minutes left!” the host calls out.

“ten minutes!?” toji shouts.

“what? ten? we haven’t even started the buttercream yet! the cake hasn’t even cooled down! what!”

“move,” toji moves into your space, snatching the whisk and bowl of ingredients from you hands and begins stirring like an absolute mad man, “you cool off that [BLEEP] cake, i’ll make this! [BLEEP].”

you dash toward the window, plain cake in hand, and simply…stick the cake out of the window, hoping it will call down faster.

toji and you are stared at in complete and utter confusion.

after sloppily applying the buttercream to the cake, along with the toppings, you and toji are done just in time.

it is your time to present.

you and toji walk to the front, placing the cake in front of the hosts.

“hm,” the woman said, “presentation is messy.”

you and toji glance at each other.

they take a bite.

“oh,” the male judge hums, “not bad.”

“i think it’s quite tasty!” a judge with a british accent compliments. “well done to the both of you.

you and toji cheer silently and high five.

you both came in third place in that round.

go figure.

꩜ sixth clip

you and the cast members of “jujutsu kaisen” are at comic con for a fan Q&A. the place is packed full of fans!

“i…i have a ques-question for _____. I-” his voice cracks wildly and he clears his throat, causing a few giggles in the crowd.

he continues. “i-what-why-what-what do-how-” he sighs and covers his face with embarrassment.

a wave of laughter goes through the crowd, mocking the poor boy even further.

“it’s okay,” you coo to the fan, “i don’t bite.”

the audience laughs some more.

and the toji interrupts with his own comment of, “they sure do.”

you gasp. your head whips towards toji and the crowd erupts with laughter, whistles and hoots of teasing and encouragement.

the fan, now beet red, covers his face again. “oh my god.”

“great! toji look what you did!” you shout. “you broke him!”

*

a/n: new actor toji take it or leave it

[spencereidluver]

E is for Even Guys Like Me?

september 12, 2008

summary: You tell Spencer about the conversation you'd overheard with his mother. He gets embarrassed, and even a little angry.

word count: 1.9k

warnings: the slightest teensiest bit of angst. mostly just a lot of spencer crushing for reader

It had been a little over two weeks since you overheard Spencer’s phone call with his mother. You’d been making it your mission to drop little hints at him about your feelings being the same, but they all seemed to just go over his head. You decided it’d be best to find a moment and tell him directly before it’s too late. 

You were on a case right now, you and Spencer once again staying back in the PD to work on the intellectual side of things. Though a lot of time was spent together, this was not a time for deep conversations. You’d wait on the case before you said anything. You didn’t want to distract the genius. Because, despite what he had told Hotch in your meeting last month, Spencer did most of the work. You were just there on the off chance that he didn’t know something, which was pretty much never.

Three days went by, you had to try your best to not be too flirtatious with Spencer. He got flustered fast. And you weren’t sure how experienced he was, you didn’t want to move too quickly. Though your guys’ carpooling and coffee sharing was normal, it felt different for you now. More meaningful. You caught yourself blushing sometimes when the tall boy would bring in two cups of coffee, one with his name and one with yours. He’d even begun leaving sticky notes on them sometimes, ever since you did the morning of the phone call. You’ve saved them all in your desk, his handwritten script being some of the most effortlessly beautiful things you’ve ever had the pleasure of laying your eyes on.

_____

You’re seated on the jet on the way home from the case. Directly to your left, is Spencer, who is deeply entranced in a book, “A Study in Scarlet,” by Arthur Conan Doyle, the book that he received in last year’s white elephant gift exchange, which took place before you began working at the BAU. Across from you is Emily and Derek, and Hotch and Rossi are at the booth behind her. JJ stayed home for this case as she is pregnant. She is in charge of files until she gives birth and returns from maternity leave. 

The silence in the jet is broken by a head turn from Hotch who clears his throat. “Are you three up for dinner tonight?” He says.

“My treat,” Rossi adds. 

“Well, if Papa Dave is paying, then of course I’ll be there,” Emily says.

“Sure, I’ll go,” you said, glancing over at Spencer who hadn’t even looked up from his book. “I’m sure Spence will come too.” Derek kicked you under the table and gave you a wink. His teasings were the main reason you haven't made any moves on Spencer prior to hearing him speak to his mother about you. 

Almost on beat, Spencer looks up, “Yeah, I’ll be there. I’ll just need a ride if that’s alright,” he said. His eyes met yours.

“I’ll give you a ride, Spence.” Another kick from Derek, this time, you kick him back. Emily catches on to the teasing game of footsies going on under the table and gives you and Derek a cheeky grin. You roll your eyes at the two of them and pull your feet into your lap. Sitting criss-cross now, you pull out your book of crossword puzzles and begin scribbling answers.

_____

You weren’t quite sure how much time had passed. Emily and Derek had fallen asleep, and not a peep had been heard from Rossi or Hotch either. Spencer was still awake and was coming up on the final few pages of his book. He was curled into a small ball against the wall in the corner of the seat, his knees to his chest and feet pointed toward you. His mismatched socks peeked out from beneath his khakis, one pink and one yellow. The shoestring of his left converse was coming untied. Untied! That was the answer to the last line of your puzzle! You subconsciously thank Spencer for his accidental aid to your old woman games, and it’s almost as if he heard it. He looks at his watch, then up at you.

“Hmm, we should be back in Quantico in 17 minutes. Taking to account the wind speed, maybe even 16,” he says. He crinkles his nose and returns to the last pages of his book. You scribble in the final word of your crossword puzzle and begin to pack up. You slide your puzzle book into your small carry on backpack, and begin to clear off the rest of the table. You pick up yours and Emily’s empty coffee mugs and reach around Spencer’s elbows which were rested against the table to grab his. You stack the three mugs together and grab Derek’s plate. Derek was the only person you knew who would eat four pork chops at 3pm, then agree to go to dinner only two hours later. 

Spencer sees you take his mug and looks up at you. He gives you a smile and whispers a soft “thank you.” 

_____

Spencer was seated on the passenger side of your car. His eyes were following the flashing lights as you drove down the city streets in the darkness. It was 7:30pm. A little late for dinner, but it’s when the jet got back. Plus, you were hungry.

The light was hitting Spencer’s face in a way that made him look ethereal. Maybe you shouldn’t have said anything, but you couldn’t help yourself.

“Hey, Spence,” you say, alluding a hum in response. Can I tell you something?”

“Of course,” he looked at you. Somehow, from the repositioning of his head, the lighting somehow hit his face even better. The yellow luminescence shining through the windows made the honey brown of his eyes almost 3-dimensional. It felt as if he was looking inside of you. He was truly breathtaking.

“Okay,” you sigh, “please don’t hate me, but I kind of overheard you and your mom’s conversation…”

“What?”

“Well, just your side. I know I shouldn’t have, but I just couldn’t… I just… I need to-”

Spencer interrupts you. It was dark, but you could tell his cheeks were red. “So you were eavesdropping?”

“Spencer, I’m sorry. I just…”

“How much did you hear?”

“It was only the end. If you would’ve been talking about something personal I would’ve left but-”

“How is me opening up about my feelings for someone not personal?” He seemed a little angry.

“No, it is, and I know I shouldn’t have, but…”

“Yeah, you really shouldn’t have, y/n.”

“Spencer, I…” You looked at the man in the seat beside you. You didn’t want this conversation to upset him. You really wished you hadn’t spoken. You could see the betrayal in his eyes. You felt truly awful.

“You what?” He broke the silence, eyes meeting yours. He stared at you intently. 

You took a moment, trying to find the words to say. You didn’t want to break his trust even more. “Spencer, I like you too.”

His eyes were blown huge. “Huh?” “I like you too. I’ve liked you since I first started working here. I didn’t want to try anything because I didn’t know if you felt the same, or if you even date because I know some people with this job don’t. And-”

You were rambling. You were trying your best to defend yourself. Spencer’s eyes were searching your face. He was profiling you. You were telling the truth.

“I, wow. I didn’t know you felt that way, y/n…”

You reached for his hand. It was cold and shaky. You ran your thumb over the back of it, letting it raise and drop with the veins it crossed. He began shaking even more, so you let go. He snaps his hand to his thigh, and with his other hand, traces the tracks you’d left. He smiles to himself and lets out a large sigh. 

_____

“You guys have a good night,” Rossi says as he climbs into his luxury sedan. The team had just finished a large dinner and were beginning to head their separate ways. 

“Don’t worry, Papa Dave, I’ll get the kid home safe,” Derek says, giving Spencer a playful noogie. 

Spencer agreed to a ride home from Derek at dinner. Maybe it was because their houses were only a few streets away from each others’, or maybe, he still felt a little awkward from your previous conversation with him. You didn’t mind all that much though, after all, you’d finally openly expressed your feelings for him. That was enough for one night.

Rossi carefully backs out of the parking lot, leaving you, Spencer, and Derek still remaining. You stuff your hands in your coat pocket; it’s chilly. You want this night to last forever, yet simultaneously, you hoped it’d end right now. You tilted your head toward your car. Spencer understood.

“Derek,” he says, “are you about ready?”

“Yeah, we can head out whenever you want.”

Spencer ran his hand through his hair before turning around to look at you. He gave you a smile. “I’ll see you Monday, y/n.”

“Bye, Spence,” you say, returning the smile.

_____

“Hey, Derek,” Spencer says as he rubs his fingers over his knuckles. 

“What’s up, kid?” Derek responds. He looks over to meet eyes with him quickly.

“Can I, um… can I ask you a question?” Spencer looks at Derek like a lost puppy.

“Woah, the boy genius asking me a question? What has this world come to?”

“It’s about girls.”

“Oh. I see.” Derek knew of Spencer’s trouble with girls. Despite the darkness, he could see the light in the skinny man’s eyes. “Come at me, big guy.” He gave Spencer a pat on the back.

“How do I like… ask one on a date?”

“Oooh, who’s the special lady? Hmmm?”

“Derek, I’m being serious. Please.” 

Derek could hear Spencer’s plea in his voice. He understood that Spencer was confiding something foreign to him and truly needed the help of an experienced man.

“Well, what does she like? Don’t take her somewhere too extravagant. Maybe a nice dinner or a breakfast date. Start simple and see how it goes.”

“Okay, but like, how?”

“Step one is speaking to her.”

“I have spoken to her… a lot.”

“The main thing, kid, is just to sound confident. Even if you’re not.”

“But what if she says no? Like how do I turn away from that?”

“There’s no reason for her to say no.”

“Yeah, but like… what if she does? What if she thinks I’m weird? Maybe this is a bad idea…” 

Spencer was spiraling. Derek reaches over and puts his arm on Spencer’s shoulder. He turns to him, meeting his eyes.

“Even guys like you are capable of love, kid. Any girl would be lucky to have such a kind and caring man like you, okay? Just go with your gut.”

Derek rounded the turn to Spencer’s road. 

“Thank you, Derek, really. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

“Have a good night, lover boy.”

“You too, Derek.”

_____

next chapter: F is for First Date

other parts: Spencer Reid A-Z Masterlist

view the masterlist in a calendar version! 

_____

a/n: i've spent the most time on this out of any post i have in a while. kinda hit writer's block pretty bad the other day. i'm really hoping i can get the next part out by sunday, but i work all day tomorrow and idk how much time i'll have time to work on it saturday, but i'm trying my best, i promise.

_____

Have Recommendations? visit my recommendations page to submit your suggestion, no matter how big or small!

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taglist: @universallyblizzardlove @ms-ks-world @justlivinginadaydream @dij-ology @lotus-ignis @sammy-4103 @ktssstuff @ada--44 @moongirl27 @monfleurr @shycreationdreamland @cultish-corner @ariianelle @iiheartbowie @spencerreidismybitch @traderjoesmints @ivyflowers13

[xxblairexxss]

Little legs

Pairing : dad!Charles Leclerc x mom!reader

Theme : Fluff

Summary; Charles had his first skin to skin time with his newborn twins.

Another short one because I’m always obsessed with dad Charles 🥹

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

You tighten the blue coloured ribbon and took the scissor to cut the ends of it. “Ah! There you go! It’s a little crooked but–“ You tilted the ribbon a little to the right but it went back to how it was. “Whatever. This will do.”

You slinked to the living room and peep at your husband who was watching a compilation videos of animals on his phone. He emitted a couple of little laughs and chuckles, eyes locked on his phone and completely unaware of your presence.

You placed the box behind your back and took a few more steps where he could see you at the corner of his eyes.

“Hi, honey! Thought you were asleep?” He turned off his phone and stretched out his arms, expecting you to hug and cling on him like you always did.

“No, I don’t want to sleep.” You shook your head, your hand holding the box was still on the back of you waist as you tried to hide your smile.

“Okay?” His smile widen as he looked at you up and down. “Then what do you want, baby? What’s with that smile?”

“I– you know our second wedding anniversary is in a couple of days, right? A week, actually!”

“Oh, no..” His mouth widen when you took out the wrapped box behind your back. “I haven’t gotten you anything yet, baby.”

“It’s okay! I just wanted to give you an early gift.”

He took the box and kept on his hand on your legs as you took a seat by his side, your knees bumping against his. “Can I open it? Do you want me to open it now?”

“Open it now, honey. Go on! It’s a little crooked.” You pointed at the blue ribbon and giggled, your body leaning against his arm as he chuckled along.

Charles pulled on the end of the ribbon and it went loose. You sneaked your hands around his arm as he opened the box, revealing a small customised Ferrari shirt. “This is cute! It’s for me? A little small, don’t you think?” He laughed and looked at the back of the shirt where it has number 16 on it with a word daddy on it, causing his lips went into a thin line.

“Y/N? What does this mean?”

“There’s more in the box!”

He gave you a glance before dipping his hand into the box and took out three pregnancy tests with the words “pregnant” written on the small screen of it. “Wait, are you serious? We are having a baby? Like a real baby?”

“Yes! A real baby!” Your squealed became a mumble when he wrapped his arms around your waist, one hand was still gripping on the shirt and pregnancy test.

“Oh my god, I’m gonna be a dad! Baby, I’m gonna be a dad!”

“You are!” He cradled your face and you saw his teary eyes that he tried to blink away. “Are you crying?”

“No, I’m not.”

“You are!” You giggled.

“I can’t believe we are having a baby, honey. Thank you. Oh my God, I really didn’t see this coming.” His lips met yours, sending a tingling sensation to your body as if it was the first time ever.

He didn’t bother to hide his tears when you found out you were having twins a few weeks after.

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

You went to labor a few weeks early, which was expected since it was a twins pregnancy. Your labor went for 36 hours and you had to push for 6 hours long. The pain was unbearable but Charles was such a big help. He never left your side ever since you started feeling contractions, giving you encouraging words while his hands always on your waist and shoulders to give you a massage and ease the pain a little.

You were laying on your side, feeling drowsy after the tremendous hours of agony when you overhead one of the lovely nurse asked Charles to take off his shirt for the skin-to-skin time. He pulled his shirt over his head and sat at the couch by your side when she came with one of your twins, the one that was bigger in size while the other one was getting cleaned.

“Relax.” The nurse laughed when she saw his trembling hand, causing you to chuckle as well.

He placed one hand under the head and neck while his other one to support the bottom as he brought him close to his chest. The newborn squirmed and let out a little squeaky sound before he settled into Charles’s arms.

“Honey, he’s here.” Charles whispered and your heart melt at the sight of them. He touched the little hand with his index finger and leaned in to peck on the newborn’s forehead, making the little one let out a “neh” upon the contact.

“Mommy and daddy were so excited for you, precious.” He stroke on the cheek and softly held the little legs that has been kicking around ever since he held him. “This is what had been keeping you up all night long, honey. This small little leg. Oh my god.” He laughed when he felt his kick against his hand. “That was so strong.”

“I told you it hurt when they kicked.”

“I’m sorry.” He gave a soft smile and mouthed the words I love you when the little one squirmed again. He drew in a breath when he opened his eyes, hands forming into a fist as they went flailing around. “Hi, precious.” He chuckled when the little one let out a soft “heh”.

He leaned in and touched his nose with the little one’s, making the newborn wriggled as he lightly brushed his nose down to his lips, making the little one opened his mouth and made another squeaky noise. “Daddy’s in love with you already.”

“Okay, ready for another one?” One of the delivery nurse approached Charles and helped him to position the little one from laying on his arm to leaning on his chest and she placed the smaller twin on the left side. “You are an expert now!”

He had the brightest smile, his green eyes seemed to be sparkling as he looked at you. “They are so small. Oh– there you go.“ He moved a little bit so he felt more comfortable as the newborns drifted to sleep from the comfort of their dad’s body heat.

He brushed his finger on the other twin, the one that was just being placed on his chest and beamed. “Mommy had to get a check up every two weeks just to keep on track with your weight. He’s smaller, honey.”

You laughed. “Yeah, his brother took up all the space.”

Charles extended one hand to hold yours while he wrapped his other arm on the newborn babies who were sound asleep. “This is the most expensive gift I have ever received, honey.” You felt his thumb stroking the back of your hand as his gaze went back and forth between the babies and you.

“Are you okay?” You asked.

“I’m fine, love. I should be the one asking you that question. I just– just couldn’t really believe they are here.” Charles had always fell asleep with his hand on your middle ever since your belly started showing. It felt surreal for him to finally hold his little ones after months and months of feeling those little movement and kicks. “Thank you for all the sacrifices, honey. I love you so, so much. They are dearest to me but you are still my priority, I promise.”

“Are you ready for your daddy duty yet?”

“All ready and prepped. Oh– he’s gonna cry.” He moved his arm and held the little hand as he frowned when he started getting fussy. “Honey, what should I do? Help me.”

✧.* general tag list! @i83andrew @cltrlne @karmabyfernando @ohthemisssery @ru-kru @tastebaldwin @f1obessed @love4lando @shinrjj @ietss @leclerc13 @darleneslane @buckybarnessweetheart

If your usernames were crossed, meaning I can’t tag you! 😭 Let me know if you would like to be removed or to be added to the tag list! Or if I missed anyone!

[broken-bottle-chandelier]

RW Art Month - Day 28 (and 29-30) "7th Anniversary Celebration!"

To mimic my old year four Rain World anniversary celebration, I had the seven main sillies from vanilla celebrating the seventh year anniversary of the best game ever! (Also I completely did day 29 and 30 by accident, but it was a happy accident for sure)

I 100% got a little... too invested in this piece, it took a lot longer than I would have liked and I pushed myself to the limit to get it done and... I... Don't think it's my best piece of this year by a long shot... I definitely realized why people... do not draw Moon's can from this angle very often it was... extremely complicated... But I tried and I wanted to draw all my favorite little sillies, and I did that! So I can at least say that I'm proud to have fit 7 of these guys into one piece.

...

But as a statement to this game for its aging...

It really does NOT feel like I've been playing this game for 7 years now... But I'm honesty so grateful it's been a staple of my life, to say Rain World has changed my perception of video games would be an understatement, it is honestly one of if not THE best games I've ever played. It definitely more than deserves the resurgence of attention brought with the Downpour DLC... So thank you Rain World for all the joy you've brought, and hooray to many more years of playing this game to lift my spirits.

As a gift for reading through all that, here's a close up of the slugcat peep decorations! :]

Also, I was so right in my theories about Nightcat LET'S GOOOOOOO!!!

My excitement is immeasurable and my day is made.

[phosphoracat]

The Love You Want

cw: none for now || mistrust, johnny being a flirt, ghost lowkey setting this up knowing the consequences, birthday trope

She hates when he leaves.

Ghost had been deployed for months before being allowed to return, and a mere two days later, he was called back to service. All Ghost had told her was “a while” when she'd asked how long he'd be gone this time; every time Ghost was deployed, they argued. She couldn't help herself- he was always gone for so long and it always hurt her, not because he was leaving due to his job, but because she'd be alone once more.

Previously, she'd told Ghost it was fine that he was deployed, that he'd be gone for extended periods of time, but over time it really started to bother her. Thus, leading to the current situation.

A knock sounded on the door of their apartment, and peeping through the hole, she saw a man standing there with flowers, chocolates, and a ridiculous mohawk. She debated on leaving him there and sneaking away from the door quietly, but her phone vibrated in her pocket, and a quick check proved it was Ghost.

‘Happy birthday, love’

She reluctantly unlocked the deadbolts and the extra locks on the door before slowly opening it, peering at the other man, on guard. “Can I help you?” she asked softly, fingers curling around the pepper spray hanging behind the door for situations such as these.

“Aye, lass,” came his deep, gravelly voice, as if he growled the words. “Ghost sent me. Said ya get lonely, and wanted to give ya a present for yer birthday.”

She narrowed her eyes a little, obviously not trusting this man. “I don't know who Ghost is,” she replied with practiced precision, well-trained by Ghost within the first few months of their relationship to lie when someone mentioned him or asked for him.

The man just huffed a laugh, nervous, shifting on his feet. “O'course ya do. Big scary bastard in the special forces. Simon Riley. Spooky fucker that wears a mask.”

Just then, before she could proceed to lie further, her phone started vibrating like crazy. Keeping an eye on the man at the door, she checked her phone- Ghost, naturally.

‘Let him in, dove’

‘It's just Johnny’

‘I sent him’

‘Baby, let him in, it's alright’

She heaved a sigh before pocketing her phone and shutting the door to fully unlock it, the chain removed from its slot, and reopening the door to ‘Johnny’. “Come in,” she sighed, placing her full trust in Ghost and turning her back to the Scottish man to start making herself and him a cup of coffee.

She can hear Johnny moving behind her, hyper-vigilant to his every move, tracking the sounds of his footsteps and even the way he breathed. Ghost had instilled this kind of panic, this kind of mistrust in her early on into their relationship, reinforcing it over the past few years. Hell, he praised her for it.

She listened as Johnny set the flowers on the kitchen counter behind her, as he set the chocolates beside it… and another item that she had no idea he even had. She only turned when coffee was in both mugs, making hers the way she liked it, offering it to Johnny black.

“So, bonnie… Ghost has a gift for you.”

“My name isn't Bonnie,” she grumbled, misunderstanding Johnny as she was a silly little American girl. She'd never even met someone from Scotland before.

Johnny only snickered and grinned, stepping aside to reveal the beautiful lilies on the counter, the petals a mix of a soft yellow, and yellow mixed with pink. Her absolute, literal favorite flowers. Either Johnny was a serial killer who was super lucky, or Ghost really did send him. She naturally gravitated closer to the flowers, hesitant, cautious, eyeing Johnny from the corner of her eye as her fingers brushed the stems, the soft petals.

She murmured a soft thanks to him as she turned to fetch a vase from one of the cabinets, rinsing out the dust, adding lukewarm water to the vase and mixing in the plant food that came with the pretty- beautiful- flowers. She didn't get flowers often, as they died quickly and Ghost was more of a material man, but she still absolutely adored getting flowers.

Turning with the vase in hand, she gingerly settled the flowers into it and set it in the middle of the dining table, looking extremely pleased.

“You've got more, lass,” Johnny gently reminded her, and she turned to be met with an honest-to-God box of her favorite chocolates, and a wrapped mystery gift. She furrowed her eyebrows a little, assessing the wrapped gift, running through whatever it could be. It was as long as her arm, and about as thick as it, too. It was quite big… big enough to be a bomb. Well, maybe not that extreme; Ghost did say he sent Johnny, so surely he must trust this man enough to not destroy her and their apartment.

Cautiously, like a stray dog being met with fresh food from a stranger, she began to open the gift. She was careful with the wrapping, as if it'd blow up if she went any quicker or less careless, and after a moment, the gift was revealed.

A really, really nice monitor, that came in the box with a pretty pink keyboard and mouse, and a… oh my God, a mini PC! Her lips parted in sheer surprise, letting her guard down slightly in glee and shock. Johnny simply grinned, as Ghost had told him why he was getting this specific thing for her.

“Holy shit,” she breathed, excitement at the levels of a kid on Christmas, but it was June. “Thank you, Johnny, thank you, holy fuck!” She grinned right back at him, her carefully constructed walls starting to crumble. She fished out her phone to text Ghost, thanking him profusely, to which he responded with a heart.

‘i'm giving you the sloppiest toppy when you come home for this’

All Ghost responded to that with was a thumbs up, which made her huff a laugh at how ancient he must be.

Johnny helped her set up the mini PC as well as the monitor, even installing Steam for her before awkwardly standing there as she immediately busies herself with downloading and buying games to play.

“Well, lass, I’ll leave you to it,” Johnny says after a minute, offering her a smile. “But before I go… here. Happy birthday, bonnie.”

She turns, confused, as Johnny sets a tiny wrapped box in her palm, carefully unwrapping it to find a beautiful bracelet. It had butterfly charms on it in pastel, Easter colors, which so happened to be her favorite. “How did you…?” she asked softly, in awe of the beautiful jewelry.

“Have a little birdie in my corner,” he teased, but it was true; she figures Ghost told him everything she likes to properly get her gifts, or to help ease her anxiety and fear of a stranger.

She doesn't think- which would get her killed if Johnny was a worse man than he is- before she gently wraps her arms around his waist in a brief, soft hug. Her perfume filled Johnny's nose, sticking to his shirt, and he'd immediately fall in love if this wasn't his best friend's girlfriend.

“Thank you, Johnny,” she murmured, immediately working on putting on the bracelet and failing. Johnny stepped in, deft fingers expertly clipping the bracelet onto her wrist, before pulling away.

“Aye, looks right bonnie on you,” he murmured, still in her space. Their faces were somewhat close, his eyes drifting from hers to her lips, then back to her eyes immediately as if he'd spook her. He did.

She took a little step back, flustered, frustrated with herself. So Ghost was gone for a month and she immediately gets hot and bothered around another man? She hates herself.

“I oughta be goin’, lass,” Johnny expertly suggested, picking up on her feelings and that he'd probably overstayed his purpose of being here. “It was nice to meet ya. I'm sure I'll be seein’ ya.” With a two-fingered salute, Johnny let himself out of the apartment, shutting the door behind him.

She scrambled to turn all of the deadbolts and locks on the door, safe once more… but not from her thoughts.

All she could think about was how guilty and angry she was, that she seriously considered kissing Johnny right then. How lonely was she that it was even an option in her head? Ghost would surely kill her. God, Ghost. Does this count as cheating, even if she didn't do anything? She was spiralling. God, she hates herself.

banners by @saradika-graphics 🫶🏻

[neteyamsilly]

i will soften every edge, hold the world to its best | 4

summary ;; A father protects, that's what gives him meaning. Jake Sully has failed. PART 3 | PART 5 pairings ;; dad!jake sully x reader, mom!neytiri x reader, sully family x reader genre ;; pure angst and family feels notes / explanations ;; PLEASE READ AUTHOR NOTES. I explicitly said in the previous chapter I would NO LONGER BE TAKING TAG REQUESTS. You're just going to have to check my profile every now and then. I also will not be re-tagging the peeps I did in the last chapter’s replies, it’s just a lot 😭 I'm sorry for the inconvenience and thank you for your understanding! Now I present you, the long awaited angst and groveling of Jake. Enjoy! Please excuse my mistakes if you see any. Thank you so much for the lovely comments and support, I hope the angst hits the way you wanted it / was expecting HHHHH

It’ll shine better, Jake mused to himself, rotating the lumpy amber around in his fingers to better reflect the sunlight streaming in thin rays from the hands of the dense flora above, once I dip this in that polish oil. It’s not entirely unsalvageable. 

At least he hadn’t scraped too much in attempts to give it a rounder shape, the bug at its core you were gushing about to the point of waking him up at zero dark thirty was still intact. He had been summoned from his dreams to look at a cool rock. 

Jake couldn’t not gift it to you as something to be permanently worn after that.

The problem? He was ass at this. Always had been. No drop of craftsmanship in his bloodstream at all when the Na’vi were particularly fond of their ornaments and accessories, making it themselves, in fact. 

Songcords were put together from beads, bones and stones, virtuosity was a must intrinsically woven into everyday life, methodized and irreplaceable since it wasn’t as if mass production could ever be a thing in Pandora. Everything was handmade. 

Jake’s worst enemy beadwork was in their clothing, for example, even in braids — his maladroit at it may or may not be why he wore his hair in plain dreads now. 

He wasn’t an artist or a creator, his hands were more comfortable being fit around a gun or a knife than slipping effortlessly in the rhythm of weaving or the act of making. All his end results were dreadful enough to be bullied relentlessly by his kids — except for you, that is. You absolutely loved them for reasons your mother or none of your siblings could understand. 

Jake’s blundering conscience would melt at the sight of your eyes shining and the biggest smile almost splitting your head in half as if he had just handed you the world every single time he gifted you the newest of his clunky handiwork. He didn’t know why that made you the happiest. You’d been that way ever since you saw him carving and personally adding a bead to his songcord about how he got his firstborn daughter to utter her first word: dada. 

It was important to him, so, down it had gone into Jake’s life story; putting official significance to the moment he never wanted to forget in the same thread that carried the story of him becoming Toruk Makto, just beside Neteyam’s first word, which was also dadada. (Neytiri had Lo’ak’s mam, and Kiri’s perfectly articulated mommy.)

Ever since that day, you had made grabby hands at the bead all the time when he picked you up, teethed at it like a puppy trying to grab a toy, tried to rip it off to make it yours — anything, until Neytiri made you one, but no, you wanted it from dada. 

So dada started making you little trinkets. 

He didn’t know if it was a good or a bad thing you never grew out of receiving gifts from your dad he himself cringed at. Jake wasn’t one to complain, not when someone in this life would feel such enough joy to purify thousands of blighted souls upon receiving his ugly personal work. It made him happy, stroked his ego to high heavens that his sweetheart was doting on dada to see the imperfect as the most fascinating. 

That’s why he had taken on the daunting task of making a bead for you out of the amber you’d fixated on, rasp in one hand, sitting on a thick log that cut into the little stream he and his family were spending leisurely time that day, one leg pulled to himself and one feet in the water up to his ankle. Even though he had half an ear on his four children playing around in the shallow water of the creek, all the screams and squeals of joy felt weak compared to the contained huff of amusement that escaped from his mate who had come up to Jake while he was way too engrossed in his task. 

His eyes shifted to Neytiri, watching her hop on to the log in one agile move. “Don’t laugh.”

“I am not laughing,” Neytiri said, crouching to sit, her mouth twitched upwards as she looked at the amber in his hand.

“I have eyes, Neytiri, I literally see you laughing.” His face used to burn at her openly teasing about beadmaking, but his oldest daughter’s attentions had restored his bruised confidence over the years. The slander wasn’t taken lightly these days as Jake had proudly relabeled the odd shapes of his work as a creative choice. “Right to my face.”

“You’re mistaken.” 

Jake made his jaw drop, overacting his bafflement. “Wow, gaslighting? Really?”

Neytiri hit his arm lightly. In her terms, it was light, at least. “I don’t know what that is.”

“It’s something you shouldn’t do to your mate.” He turned his back to her, giving a look over his shoulder. “You’re abusing me. I’m being abused.”

“Baby.”

“No amount of pet names are gonna fix my broken heart.”

“No. You are a baby. I’m insulting you.” Neytiri hadn’t even laughed, but the uplifted timbre of that sentence sure did make Jake snicker in disbelief. “If you can’t take it, maybe you should leave beading to me.”

“I would say they are fashionably off,” he defended. You carried them with delight, so why shouldn’t Jake take more pride in his work? “And you said practice makes perfect years ago, I remember the exact words—”

“Years ago. You still haven’t gotten any better at it.” Neytiri was his biggest supporter and criticizer at the same time. “And you became a part of the clan back in the day in three months Jake. Never a more unbelievable thing to me than this.” 

“I’m trying alright?” He turned back to the bead, or, vaguely bead-shaped amber, if technical terms were involved. It still had a whole adventure to embark on until it could receive the noble title of a bead. “She likes what I make, at least.”

“It’s because she’s your daughter and anything you do is out of this world. Beauty in the most unlikely places. A child’s love is pure that way.” The unexpected hypnotism of poetry in that sentence alone pulled Jake’s gaze to Neytiri’s, and for a moment, he could physically feel his heart within his ribcage being squeezed, tethering on painful, but with a joyful tinge. “She doesn’t have standards yet.”

Well, that hurt. “Damn.”

“Damm!” A pair of small and branch-thin arms wrapped around his neck from behind, and something, or rather, someone, latched onto his back. “Rahh!” 

Jake should have been suspicious of how silent it had gotten halfway into his talk with Neytiri. Turns out, you had swam underneath the log to get out of his line of sight, climbing with the stealth of a bug to come up undetected. 

Well, mark Jake down as impressed, you weren’t able to do that without being spotted until today, this was another wonderful milestone for you — you had learned impressively, taking advantage of his distraction, avoiding making noise and using water to your advantage. Neytiri must have given you some pointers. 

And now he was wondering if his mate was in on this all along, purposefully disturbing his peace so their kids could see an opening to pounce on him.  

“Oof!” Your hold on him was something he could break out of any minute with how adorably strong you were exerting yourself to make it, but he wanted to play along more than anything. Jake was acting panicked, swinging his body left and right from the waist, but really, it was just a light warm-up exercise with the easiest deadlift possible. “I’m being ambushed!”

“I got you now, Toruk Makto!” You wrapped your legs around his torso, and he felt like this was just a piggyback ride with extra steps. “Watch this, mom!”

Oh, it’s on. 

Discreetly handing Neytiri the amber, Jake stood up, bringing you up with him and fighting a smile at your clipped squeak as the height became too much too quick, causing you to cling onto him stronger. He reached behind, and within seconds, he had you in his hands, holding you from the armpits and dangling you above the stream, your kicking legs beating the air, and he cackled like a villain threatening to fling the hero from atop of a skyscraper. 

“You got me? Please.” He loosened his grip the slightest amount to give you the illusion he would let go, and you stopped struggling to scream, catching his forearms. “A measly thing like you? Conquering me? I’ll show you why I’m the king of the skies! Here I come!”

Making sure you wouldn’t get hurt, Jake threw you into the water as gently as possible, but made the angle entertaining enough so you would go flying. He wasn’t sure who’d screeched the highest, your three siblings who had you spearheading this little operation with full trust in your capabilities, or you reacting like you were falling down from an ikran midair. Either way, he was enjoying bullying his kid a bit too much. 

Emerging from the stream and shaking the water off too akin to a wet dog, your first action was to shield your siblings, open arms and whole body and all. “Nete, run! Protect Lovak and Kiri, I’ll save you!”

Jake’s evil smile looming on his kids wavered at that. 

You had problems with some letters even at the big age of eight, two vowels next to each other in one word was one of them, along with the confusion of “f” and “b”, and sometimes “p” — it made for hilarious misunderstandings Jake had to fight to be a parent about instead of busting a lung from laughing. 

One of the many unforgettable events was deemed “The Fish Incident” between Jake, Max and Norm. He had been recording Neteyam’s first catch on his own to add it to the cute memory pile he and his mate would watch in the future after all their children eventually moved out to pursue their paths. You happened to be present that time, watching intently as your big brother shot a particularly giant yellow fish, eagerly jumping down to the pond to get it and showing it to the camera with a shy, yet proud grin on his face. 

“Good job, boy!” Jake had cheered. “Say I got that fish!”

Out of the camera’s frame and making little jumps on your toes, you’d blithely yelled. “Yeah, you got that bish!” 

The rest of the footage was shaky and out of focus, the microphone hadn’t picked up any sound but Jake’s uncontrollable laughter, kicked off by an exploding snort of shock. 

You and Neteyam had no idea why, but after he’d stopped recording with tears streaming down his face, wheezing because he couldn’t stop laughing, you’d joined to laugh and play with him regardless, mirroring his excitement. 

Later though, Jake had to actively make it so you wouldn’t have to say the words kitchen and pitch (and obviously, fish) out loud, at least, in front of Neytiri. He didn’t want to abstain from having a little fun himself, so under no circumstance was she allowed to find out and correct you. And he had it going strong for a while until it slipped when he was talking about a scientist friend over at Hell’s Gate called Richard and you repeated it as “Bitchard”. The word had somehow weaseled into your English lexicon as well, and Neytiri wasn’t illiterate enough to be oblivious to what you’d merrily blurted. 

Good old days. Jake sometimes missed hearing you curse innocently. Neytiri had to take that source of joy away from him. Discouragement and warnings would be given to his kids if they knowingly cussed, of course, Kiri calling Lo’ak penis face was something he’d immediately shot down, but this was harmless, he thought. He could have let you be blissfully unaware until the day you learned the meaning of the words, or gain consciousness of the articulation errors as you grew up and naturally fix it yourself. It was only a natural part of a child’s growth.  

But he had other entertainment. The obligatory consonant you had to sometimes add to two different neighboring vowels if it was too difficult for you to pronounce, for example. Your little brother was a victim to this. Thankfully, Lo’ak wasn’t bothered to be called Lovak by his older sister, somehow thinking of it as a nickname, but Jake could bet his ass the boy would use this as infinite ammo against you once both of you were older. He would of course forget how you always protected him in play fighting like right now, of course, maybe you would remember enough to accuse him of ungratefulness, and perhaps Lo’ak would declare he didn’t recall anything such as that. 

How bittersweet of a thing it was to drift into imaginations of how his kids would be like when they grew up. Like the stinging ache Jake always got when he was confronted with the sadness of losing his children forever one day — the need to put every minute with them in a bottle, and the feeling of time slipping through his fingers, the same old melancholy each time: when it first dawned on Jake that you’d successfully sneaked up on him just now, when Neteyam had captured his first fish all on his own without assistance, when Lo’ak showed him the knife he had successfully carved by himself to get his approval, and when Kiri had tended to a scratch wound of his better than her grandmother did with precocious wisdom on her face. 

Jake was making every moment count. Just like this one. 

“Nobody is safe from me, I’ll huff and I’ll puff and blow your house in!” He jumped down from the log with the grace and intimidation of a leopard who had been disturbed while eating up the tree he’d dragged his meal on, splashing water everywhere. “What will you do, o’ mighty hunter?”

You loved being called mighty hunter by him, he saw the sparkle in your eyes. 

“Noooo!” Kiri cried, pulling on both Lo’ak and Neteyam’s arms huddled behind you. “He’ll get us!”

Your thought process, completely spooked by Jake, was painfully visible. But surprisingly, you yelled, “Scatter!” with the experience of a rave addict who would take a forty and smash it on the ground as the police closed in on the party grounds. And his kids ran in different directions, like a group of cockroaches when someone approached them, they all ran in different directions. 

Sloshing water all around to make it more terrifying, he got Kiri first, hauled her right over his shoulder when she made for Neytiri, thinking her mother could protect her, but no. Jake was inevitable. Lo’ak gave him a weak challenge trying to step around him, getting Jake to confuse his steps as if they were playing basketball, but this was his dad he was facing and not Spider, these tricks didn’t work on veterans, so now he was flush to Jake’s side, tail facing forward, carried like some strapless bag, it didn’t even put any strain on the man’s bicep. Neteyam was the last, hiding beneath the water level and holding his breath, but the little nose peeking out for air gave him away, and Jake had him up the other shoulder in seconds, the boy didn’t have enough time to run away even though he’d spied from underwater that Jake was coming for him. 

Three out of four. That left only his eldest daughter. 

You were nowhere to be seen. The delighted and struggling giggle-cries of the three kids in his arms and shoulders didn’t help at all to Jake taking his surroundings in with a keen ear, all senses attuned to spotting the stray. 

A rustle from above. 

“Attack him!” 

He didn’t have enough time to see just which branch of the trees cocooning the creek you had climbed on before all three in his arms turned on him, flailing around together in unison to get Jake to fall down and kneel, and it surprisingly worked, he couldn’t even recover between the blink of a time between them getting off the way and you jumping down on him. The height at which you did that knocked all air off his ribcage for a second as he tried to retain balance, and you took that chance to sit on his shoulders, your legs dangling from each one, grabbing onto two dreads on his head as if they were the tails of Toruk he once had held onto like leashes. 

Jake had to give this one to you, damn. When had you become a student of the art of strategizing? 

But, defeat was defeat. He had to play his part. “This can’t be!” He opened his arms, making it seem cartoonishly like he had been incapacitated. “I’ve been… bested?”

“That’s right!” The cockiness was dripping from you as you pulled on his dreads. “I’m Toruk Makto Makto now. The first of my name!”

Your siblings started cheering battle cries, repeating the word. 

Don’t laugh, he ordered himself. Toruk Makto Makto, what a title, oh Jesus Christ. 

“Alright, alright, you got me, mighty hunter.” 

“So I win?”

“Yes, you win.”

He was going to have two less dreads on his head if you kept pulling on them like this. “Hell yeah!” 

After hearing the declaration, his other children also joined in on the ‘Hell yeah!’ train. Jake supposed he could let this slide for now, you guys were too happy, he wouldn’t sully it. 

“You’re gonna rip my hair off, get down now.” You understood play time was over from his tone, and obeyed, hopping down his shoulders when he lowered you into the water, immediately attempting to rush to your siblings’ side to be celebrated, but Jake had something else in mind. “C’mere for a sec.”

He pulled you to the edge of the stream where water met grassy land, dipping his hand into the wet soil under your confused gaze and bringing his fingers up to trace a pattern on your face.

The reaction was instantaneous. You pulled back. “Ew, mud!”

“Hold on,” he gently warned, or rather, encouraged.

You let him continue whatever he was doing then, albeit not losing the laughable concern along the way. “What’s this?”

“Well, you’ve tamed Toruk Makto before an ikran. My mighty hunter should be painted accordingly, no?”

He pointed down and you followed it with your eyes. Seeing your reflection and the ‘V’ shape with a dot on your face in the water, you stopped yourself from touching it with the impulse control that kicked in at the last second, looking up at Jake, jumping up and down, unable to contain the energy, knowing exactly what he did just now. He’d recognized you as a prospective hunter candidate. “Thank you, dad!”

Jake could swear his insides liquidized at that. “Always, sweetheart.”

“Will you paint me like this when I finally get an ikran, too?”

“Of course I will.” He actually wanted to cup your cheeks and plant a little kiss at the adorable flat of your nose but the mud would be ruined, so he pet your braids instead. “As will your mother. It’s what family does.”

At the time, Jake didn’t have the slightest inkling that the paint would end up being your own blood. 

Neytiri’s bloody hands — your blood, his child, his child, his baby Jake’s entire day would stop at seeing one tear on her face — had been stroking your face, trying to hold on to you anywhere she could to soothe your flaming pain as you were squirming like a dying animal fighting for the next breath. His heart beating right behind his eyes in a massive pulsating headache, Jake was too desperate fighting his swelling panic with each noise that ripped from you to notice they had left the vague pattern of Iknimaya paint pattern in their wake. 

She did. 

And her following anguished, gasping shudder as her shaking hands hovered above your contorted face, tracing the air along the lines the blood had left on your face ended up hitting him right in the gut. He couldn’t dwell on it. He couldn’t let this random twisted sign sweep him into the roaring waterfall of torment, your life was on the line.  

Jake didn’t have any coherent memory of running back to the mouth of the cave from the family tent. One moment, he was back with his brain fried from thinking about Quaritch in the aftermath of an hour that had just taken twenty years from his lifespan, avoiding the inquisitive silence of his kids who hadn’t gone back to bed yet; and the other, Neytiri was screaming in the distance with terror worse than the anguish he’d heard her go through upon losing her father and her home. Jake had all but flown there, mind blank in swirling, spasming panic. 

Neytiri had told him he had a strong heart the first time they’d met. No fear. Even though Jake was aware he was being disliked strongly, this quality of his she had remarked on, honest to her soul. 

But she was wrong. 

That fearless fortress heart of his had begun to crumble the moment he learned of Neteyam’s existence. And with each and every new addition to their family, Jake had been rehabilitated on what fear truly was, like a baby learning a language. 

Losing. It was all about losing. 

He would wake up from terrorizing, choking nightmares with the sensation of his family being violently taken away from him when his children were in his arms, sleeping peacefully all along. He couldn’t stop it. It had spiraled out of control after the sky people came back, turning him into a paranoid, angry man who was ruled by fear. He worried for the safety of his family every day, obsessed over it — beneath the impenetrable iron mask of a leader his whole clan was leaning on, Jake was nothing more than a weak, emotionally crippled father who would lose it the more his children grew up to take reckless actions he made worse by the inability to govern his fear-curbed anger. He called it tough love. 

That tough love had resulted in this. Loss. Loss. Loss he had tried his damnedest to prevent. It was blood slipping through his fingers from a wound he had no way of stitching back together. 

The more he pushed to block the bullet entrance point, the more you fought Jake, making feral yowls that weakened into animalistic whimpers and throaty whines that all but ripped his heart off muscle by muscle, your hits and scratches didn’t faze him, but the noises. Eywa, the noises. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I know you’re in pain, I know, I know, I’ll make it go away, please hold on, c’mon.” The droplets of sweat that had formed in the matter of seconds rolled down his face. You had begun to hyperventilate from the accelerating pain because of his efforts. “C’mon sweetheart. Breathe for me, breathe for dad, okay? You gotta breathe. Breathe!”

You were unhearing, lost in the overwhelming, blinding, deafening agony he couldn’t anchor or shield you from. The grunt of desperation that escaped his sore throat rattled his carbon fiber infused bones.  

Jake didn’t have time to think. His reason had flown out the mountains to be able to force one single word to form in his mindscape. He just knew he had to stop the bleeding, propelled by concentrated instinct. You were struggling too much for him to have a solid hold on you. Everything, too slippery. Too much blood. Too fucking much. The sickening smell of iron bit at his senses. 

(Was it the liver? The spleen? Pancreas? One of the major arteries? But Na’vi biology wasn’t the same as humans. Fuck.) 

Then, you were being restrained by a third party, Neytiri was too devastated to make that reasonable decision, and in his peripheral vision, he saw it was Neteyam who had sat down on your legs, restricting your movements with incredible strength. Jake couldn’t even bark at him to go away with how much Neteyam looked in control, a rock he and Neytiri both could draw strength from. Behind him, Lo’ak was a stone statue just standing there, frozen, his eyes not leaving your bloody abdomen. 

When you let out a yelp his heart could no longer stand, he yelled, “Bring a stretcher!” to nobody in particular, out of his goddamn mind. Lo’ak jumped at it, coming back to his senses, hesitating what to do for a second before he was off to god knows where. He had to take you to Norm’s, and then a doctor—

A tiny, trembling voice he couldn’t recognize as Neteyam’s reached his ears. “Dad…” 

The boy was looking at you, blown eyes shining with unshed tears, upper set of teeth sinking in his shaky bottom lip. 

You had gone slack in his arms. 

He hadn’t even seen the moment, didn’t stop putting pressure on the wound as the dread assaulted his body. And a biting shiver went down his spine before Jake also looked down on his eldest daughter. Your eyes weren’t closed all the way, halted gaze focused on something to the side, one tear rolling down your temple. 

“Don’t do this to me.” Jake couldn’t breathe as he shook his head, he was about to lose it, about to tumble down the edge he could never climb his way up from. In denial, he didn’t lift his hands, losing all strength in his upper body and gradually collapsing forward as his forehead found yours. “Don’t do this to me, sweetheart, not like this. Please, not like this.”

The last thing you were looking at was the ikran you’d gotten.

Jake didn’t feel that very ikran making its way to their side, flapping its wings, didn’t feel anything to react when a snoot reached down and ever-so-gently nudged you, like you were asleep and it was given the duty to wake you up in the morning that day. 

Your ikran nudged you once. Twice. Thrice. Each push was harsher than the other. 

You didn’t wake up. Your eyes didn’t get their light back. 

A paralyzing numbness took over Jake’s body, all his neuron ends stunted. The moon stopped spinning, time stopped moving, he ceased existing, all at the same time. 

A piercing ringing stabbed his ears, took away his hearing. He didn’t hear Neytiri scream louder than the ikran, you were ripped from his arms, and he couldn’t move to do anything about it, just staring into the distance, at nothing, bloodied palms facing upwards in his lap. 

It was Neteyam who tried to stop his wailing mother from going mad with grief, trying to get her to set down your body from her crushing embrace even though he couldn’t take his misty eyes off your body. It was Lo’ak, frantic in his run even though his panic-frozen face gave away nothing, who had rushed back with Mo’at and Kiri. It was Tuk who had thrown herself into his arms for a hug Jake wasn’t in his body to reciprocate, his seven year old child, in tears, comforting him when Jake, as the adult and the father, should have had his shit together and be the provider of comfort. 

Instead, all he could feel was the blood on his hands, one small part in his mind making him focus on that one amber with a bug inside he’d carved for you, years ago, now in your hair.

The tears didn’t come. His world was shattering all around him, but not one tear made it to the surface. 

Someone was talking to him, but Jake wasn’t there, experiencing the moment behind a thick veil of silencing glass. 

“Open her mouth, Jakesuli.”

He looked at the source of the muffled sound breaching the ringing in his ears, painfully empty and unfeeling. It was Mo’at. In her hand, a woodsprite gently floated in the air and landed before it repeated the motion again. It was as if his brains had been emptied from his skull. He didn’t understand. He didn’t see. Tuk was clinging to him, Neytiri doubled down in waves of cries in Neteyam’s arms. Jake wasn’t there. 

“Open her mouth so I can keep her spirit here longer,” Mo’at said. “Do it now. We do not have much time.”

And Jake could breathe again, his soul slinged back into his body, feeling returning to the tips of his fingers, kicking into action. 

He cradled your body from the cold ground you were lying on, bringing his shaky hand to your tightly shut jaw. Your body couldn’t have been experiencing rigor mortis, so you must have been clenching your teeth to the point of your jaw locking to fight the pain, and he was nearly blinded from the sheer strength with which he had to hold back from hugging you. But he eventually opened your jaw with a sickening pop that made him visibly grimace, and Mo’at guided the woodsprite to slip inside the cavity of your mouth.

The bioluminescent dots on your body began to flicker the moment your mouth was closed again. Jake gave a shuddering breath at the sign of life, hands unsure if he should continue to cover the wound again. 

“Eywa has allowed her to remain. For a while.”

“Oh Great Mother, thank you!” Neytiri took one of your hands, pressing it against her cheek and kissing it over and over again. “Thank you, thank you.”

“Bring her to my tent,” the Tsahik simply stated, and Jake didn’t even stop to consider how he should be taking you to the science guys, how they were probably going to say you needed a blood transfusion and surgery right after they got the necessary tests such as MRI and blood analysis out of the way. Kiri, sniffling weakly, took the crying Tuk away so Jake could carry you. He couldn’t comfort his girls the way he wanted to, couldn’t attend to Neytiri as their sons consoled her and got consoled in return in a tight hug together; he was on the move, heart about to beat out of his chest.  

He took you in his arms and clutched your unconscious and ashen blue body tightly to his chest, your head lolling in the crook of his arm, arriving to Mo’at’s tent faster than she did — and oh, how small you were compared to him, how fragile and vulnerable. The attitude made you appear bigger than you actually were, and Jake was reminded how you were still a child from how light his daughter was, like a fleeting bird. He’d forgotten. It had been forever since he last held you like this that he couldn’t bear to lay you down on the mat. If only he could hide you away within his ribcage, away from the pain and the suffering, forever.

“Everything in this world is borrowed,” she told him, an incense was burned, salves were prepared, tools he had no idea on what they were used were brought out. Plants, herbs. Jake stood there, helpless. “Even this child, Eywa has lent to you. She is borrowed from the bosom of our Great Mother, entrusted to you. Entrusted.” Your freckles were still flickering, and Tsahik’s tone, clipped. “I will converse with her. Ask if she plans to call her daughter back home today.”

Ice washed over Jake. “No, you gotta heal her, Mo’at, I can't lose m—”

“Everything in this world is borrowed. Each breath. Each heartbeat. All children. All gifts from Eywa.” Her eyes bore into him. “I can only ask.”

Neytiri pounced on him as soon as he stumbled out of the tent, beaten and spent despite not having one scratch on his body, upon Kiri’s entrance to assist her grandmother in tending to you. 

“Your fault!” He was violently pushed back, only able to take in the woman’s bloodied, wrathful face, tear tracks freshened with saltwater she couldn’t stop shedding. “This is your fault! I told you! I told you to fix this!”

Jake was aware other clan members were watching even if they weren’t out of their homes, he was Olo’eyktan, their leader, his pride would have taken this to their own tent had this been any other debate, but now, he couldn’t give a flying fuck. Bruising his back was the weight of a failed father instead of the ornamental piece of the clan leader, it was unbearable enough. She was right. There was nothing else to be said. His mate was right. 

“Mother, please,” Neteyam was right beside them in a flash, holding Neytiri back and shielding his father from her. His sunken eyes found Lo’ak and Tuk crouching at the edge of the tent, huddled together, the youngest having the crying hiccups as her older brother had an arm around her, himself looking traumatized enough. 

“Don’t, boy.” Jake put a hand on his stone-hard shoulder, moving him aside. Neteyam took one hard look at Neytiri half-circling his father in long strides, and decided it was best if he took care of his siblings instead even if he wasn’t told outright. He ushered Tuk and Lo’ak up and away, to the other side of the tent where they wouldn’t disturb their parents by staying in the field of vision. 

Jake should have been the one to take control, but Neteyam had stepped up for it — he was a kid, too, eldest child or not. What the fuck am I doing? 

In his tumultuous sorrow, every piece of the fortress Jake had put together was coming down, every decision re-evaluated, emotion overtaking what he once thought as logic. His fault. His fault. He had ruined his children, all of them. He had thought embracing the iron will of a war chief would allow him to be a strong father figure, but it had only alienated his family. 

You had died in his arms. 

Jake contained every storm in a box inside his body, Neytiri lived those storms, she was strong that way. He would take it. Her eyes were only seeing red at the moment, the grief and wrath of a wronged mother. “Yeah, it’s my fault,” he told her, something between a whisper and a sigh. His kids deserved to hear it. “I know.”

“She is dying because of you!” Jake couldn’t escape the truth by closing his eyes, but he did anyway, like an automatic body reflex against detecting something would be hitting him. He swallowed, his mouth was drier than a desert, no relief was found in the action. “My daughter! My child! Your child!” She pushed him again, hissing. Jake didn’t do anything to stop it. “All because you told her to go today—everything, everything… All because you didn’t reach out to her. She hid that.” A shiver shook her voice. “That… because of you. You! She thought you would be angry!”

Violent horror seized his heart, ears pinning back on his head, knuckles clenching so light blue they were almost white. “I would… I would never—how could I ever—?”

But it was in character, wasn’t it? Jake always getting angry over worry for his children. Going crazy because they could have gotten hurt. Fear grows into anger, worm eating away the bark of a tree into poisonous snake. The realization hit him like a ton of bricks, chest rising and falling in big breaths, there was no air.  

“She said you hated her. Over and over again, she said you hated her. Not to call you because you would hate her for it, Jake!”

Bitter guilt and glacial shock rose from his stomach, choking him, his eyes looking at anywhere but Neytiri’s blazing golden eyes, to his children who sat together seemingly away from them but blatantly listening, to the tent flames were barely illuminating the shadows inside. His legs were weak. All that he had been breaching behind a wall to prioritize your safety flooded rancid to his mind. 

Jake got angry at you all the time that you’d expected it at your most vulnerable. That he would blame you, reprimand you for his enemy’s actions.

His memories were attacked by all sides. That you had gone off on your own for the Iknimaya everybody should have been there for, he should have painted your face personally for. That you have been hiding the bleeding out from the moment Jake had found you pinned down by the dead body of an avatar, from the moment you’d answered positively to the question of if you were hurt or not, with that rifle he’d thought you didn’t let go because of how the events had shaken you. He opened his mouth, a gaping fish, but no words came out, mute and voiceless. 

Hate you? Hate you? Hate his own child he would burn the whole world for?

His child. Suffering in silence when her nature was anything but silent. Afraid of her father when she was the most fearless of his kids when facing him.

You thought you weren’t loved.

“What have you done to our children? What has this family become? What are we if our children are too afraid to come to us in their darkest hours?” Neytiri was snarling, both fury and grief battling inside her, teeth gnashing so hard they could sharpen a knife. “What child does not seek her parents when she is hurt?” 

Unseeing, Jake couldn’t stand anymore, staggering towards a particularly large rock and sitting on it, he raised his hands to rub his face but stopped when he saw the blood. 

All yours. All his daughter’s who he had failed. Who had died in his arms thinking she was hated because Jake was a shit excuse of a father you couldn’t trust to say you were hurt that you would take the risk of dying so he wouldn’t find out. 

His daughter’s blood, on his hands. 

He put his elbows to his legs, crossing his wrists to lean his forehead on, yet unable to hide his shaking hands even if he managed to hide his face. Jake couldn’t comprehend any of this, crushed beneath the skyful of burning hot shame and the guilt dwarfing him — tears he couldn’t seem to shed found life in his eyes at him trying to blink away the memory of you clinging to your ikran at the flight home. You had been suffering the whole time and all he could think about was Quaritch when he should have been thinking of you.

“What child would rather hide her injury than let her father know?” It shocked his spine like lightning, and Jake visibly flinched, fists clenching and unclenching. “Explain this to me!” 

Shame. Shame. Shame. Jake was about to throw up, rocking back and forth.

He had nothing to say. Nothing could ever excuse this. He couldn’t wash away all your moments from this night, all a cursed film strip haunting his every breath accompanied by thorns that ripped apart his insides. 

“If she lives,” Neytiri said, pointing a curled hand at him, slowly, scarily calm, but shaking with mastered rage. If she lives destroyed Jake.  “We would be lucky if my mother doesn’t decide to perform Stxel’eveng as Tsahik!” 

Jake’s head shot up at the word, his arms dropping altogether and meeting his mate’s tortured stare. As Olo’eyktan, he had to be taught the traditions and ceremonies to the point of talking in his sleep from overlearning — this one was a long lost one the clan hadn’t performed for a long time, as the Omatikayan were faithful and loyal to Eywa and her teachings. 

Stxel’eveng was the shortened word for ‘Gifting of a Child’ — an adoption ceremony within Na’vi that didn’t even have the word ‘adopt’ in their vocabulary, simply because it was almost non-existent, most Na’vi didn’t even know the existence of such a tradition. If the parents were unable to care and provide for their child, mistreated on purpose or neglected them to the point of no return, they were to be publicly dishonored by the gifting of said child to another willing family. A knot would be formed between the three, one thread bound around the waist of the mother signifying the womb, one thread fastened to the queue of the father, and the final thread to the wrists of the child as if they were captive. The knot, then, would be severed by Tsahik to symbolize the dissolvement of the familial relations in Eywa’s eyes.

The biggest shame a Na’vi could bring upon their name. 

“No,” Jake muttered, his mind going blank yet again. Fuck the shame. Damn his name. He couldn’t lose you. It’s a stone in his throat he can’t swallow, whales on his tongue he can’t speak to save himself.

“Pray to Eywa it doesn’t happen. Because if I was Tsahik, I would do it.” Neytiri turned away from him, pushing the heel of her hands on her damp eyes. “I cannot bear this shame, Jake. I can barely breathe.”

He quivered like a baby leaf caught in a storm, a couple more tears rolling down his cheeks. “Neytiri…” 

“I lost my daughter today. She slipped from my fingers. I watched her die.” He lowered his head at her grief, vision swimming. “How am I a mother when I can't feel her pain? How am I worthy of being her mother when I saw my child’s pain and just sat there helpless? Why would the Great Mother ever want to send her back?” She just kept going, not having any mercy on Jake’s soul. “Where was I when she won against her ikran? Where was I when she had her first flight? Where was I to protect her from those demons?”

A father protects, that’s what gives him meaning.

Who was Jake Sully?

“Lo’ak, come back here!” 

Both of them turned just in time to see their youngest son running away from the back of the tent they’d been hiding, Neteyam following a couple steps before he stopped to look back, probably at his sister. 

“I’ll get him,” Jake said, soulless and absentminded. Neytiri didn’t respond, stalking back to Mo’at’s tent, just kneeling in front of the entrance, wrapping her hands and tail around her knees. Tuk turned the corner, scampering towards her and finding refuge in Neytiri immediately wrapping around her protectively. 

Jake wasn’t allowed to comfort his mate. 

But he could get to his children who needed it. Trust, Neytiri had said. Honesty. 

Walking up to Neteyam, he put a warm hand behind his rigid back, and felt the taut muscles relax underneath his touch, another wave of shame hitting at the inability to recall just when he had last comforted his boy. 

“Get Tuk. Go home. Rest.”

Neteyam turned to him, scandalized. “We will stay.”

“Neteyam—”

“Dad—sir, please. I can’t leave my sister.”

That sir was a splash of acid on his already weeping heart. 

It dawned on Jake that Neteyam was the one witnessing your moment of death. Death. A surge of nausea shot up from his esophagus, and he didn’t stop himself from hooking an arm around the boy, careful of using his hands not to get blood on the eldest, pulling him into a much awaited embrace. He hadn’t allowed him to be a kid.

“It’s okay, Neteyam,” he croaked. “She’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.”

Neteyam’s arms didn’t wrap around him, unfamiliar to the gesture — crumbling Jake’s already broken heart into dust, but he did shiver, fighting the tremble. He simply said, “I pray so.”

He was still trying to hold it together — for everybody’s sake. 

Jake felt the boy’s tears on his skin, and didn’t let him go when he tried to step back to wipe them, letting Neteyam cry silently as much as he wanted. He owed the boy that much, as his father. It was the least he could do. 

Jake would stitch this family back together. He had to.

Washing the blood off his hands had taken a while. Jake wasn’t let off easy, cursed by the remaining line of bloodied dirt in his nails. 

He found Lo’ak at where it all began. The mouth of the cave where your ikran was disturbing the other ones with restless chittering, reminding Jake of a wolf howling all night at the full moon. 

His youngest son was transfixed by the blood staining the ground. Just standing there, looking at it. Jake couldn’t protect him from the sight. Not anymore. He himself could barely stomach it.

“Is sister going to be taken away?” was the first thing he asked Jake, not looking at him still. 

Jake didn’t know if he meant death, or Stxel’eveng. 

“I pray not,” he told Lo’ak, honest for once. 

And like him, the boy wasn’t sentimental or emotional enough to bear his wounds to another, even to a family member, and fell silent. “It has Toruk’s colors,” he said instead, referring to your ikran’s red, orange, yellow and black patterns. Looking at the creature, Jake tried his hardest to stand up straight when he discerned all the blood coating its neck and back from the natural red color disguising it. “I wanted to fly with her.”

Pulling him into a side-hug, “I’m sorry, Lo’ak,” Jake admitted, causing him to finally break the trance he had on the blood. Speechless at his father, proud and strong, admitting he was wrong out loud and that he was being hugged when it wasn’t like his father at all to show them casual physical affection. Jake knew what must be going through his head, he would be thinking the same if his own father had ever taken responsibility for wrongdoings, as well.  “It’s my fault you didn’t get to.”

Lo’ak’s mouth was hanging low. “Dad…”

“But you will,” he said, determined and full of hope. He had to be. For his children. 

“You think so?”

“I pray so,” he quoted Neteyam. “Your sister is stubborn. She will pull through. Don’t lose faith in her.”

Lo’ak’s grip on his forearm was painful. 

“That ikran’s lost the half of its tail fins,” the boy sniffled, thickening his voice to hide the tears. “How did it get all the way here?”

It stung in Jake’s chest. The same way you’d hidden that injury. Your ikran was fueled only by the desire to get its rider to safety, it seemed. 

It would never fly again. 

Jake looked down at Lo’ak, only to be met with him avoiding his look, still concerned with hiding the tears. “Loyalty,” he said. “Devotion. Sometimes you don’t want to lose the things you love no matter what, that desperation gives you enough strength to push through any trial by fire. You would do anything. Anything.” 

And sometimes it was fear that did it, but he didn’t mention that to Lo’ak to not put salt on their family’s injury. Jake didn’t want to think about how terrified you must have been, or he would actually go insane. He didn’t want to think about the possibility of you not making it in the end. He had to keep going. He had to push forward. Be the father this family needed him to be. 

“Come on, boy,” he pulled Lo’ak gently. “Let’s go back.”

Your ikran whined at this pitifully. Jake tried not to think. He tried not to imagine what your reaction would be upon learning you would never fly together again, and had to put down this ikran that had been devoted endlessly to you if you wanted to get a new one. 

Jake didn’t think. Because if he did, he would actually go insane from the pain. 

Mo’at and Kiri emerged from the tent only in the morning, by which the whole family was cocooned in Jake’s embrace for the first time in years before the sky people had come back. They all had scrambled to get up, waiting with bated breath for one syllable of good news as Kiri slipped into Jake’s arms, one wink from falling asleep while standing. He kissed the girl’s head, soothing her, hoping this could be you eventually. He had been praying for it like a madman. 

“Eywa has accepted to bestow your daughter back to you, Jakesuli,” was the only answer Mo’at had for them, no word about your physical wellbeing. “But only if she accepts as well.” 

“I don’t understand.”

“You must go speak with her. At the Tree of Souls.”

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@thotd-f1 @httpjiikook @nipoxe @fussel9913 @gloryekaterina @nxptury @thesheelfsworld @heyyitsmaiaa @anyasullyyy @rey26 @in-luvais @em-100 @n7cje @kpopslur @holysaladapricothero @dedicateeverythingtomilkshake @maviee @grxcisxhy-wp @me-marilm @n39ro-chann

[frownyalfred]

I could make a whole post about this preview (thank you Dan Mora) but peep Diana’s JL stud!!!! I need to know how those were requisitioned/made/gifted.

Did she get them specially made for herself? Did she have to ask Bruce for the logo vector files? What metal are they made of? It has to be something strong so they don’t fall apart the first time she takes a hit across the face. I have SO many questions.

[lovelykhaleesiii]

ok but chubby!Aeg with a new wife reader and him just fucking her constantly with a breeding kink and barely letting her out of his chambers until his family finds her would be incredible...

And good luck with your period beautiful, it seems I'm headed there as well

sorry for the delayed response lovely, hope you are better now xox this ask is delicious, thank you for sending it in! any type of Aeg with a breeding kink is something else...

Duty to the Realm.

PAIRING: chubby!King!Aegon ii Targaryen x Queen!fem!Reader

WORDS: 3,522.

WARNINGS: arranged marriage, breeding kink, lactation kink, pregnancy kink, slightly cruel!Aegon ii, female receiving (f*ingering), edging, overstimulation, creampie, cockwarming, swearing, posessive!Aegon, p in v sexual intercourse, mentions of pregnancy/birth.

A/N - I may have gotten carried away a little bit, but that's okay. shoutout for my bitchass anon, that seems to be OBSESSED with me, enjoy reading and hating on this asshole.

​​The marital duty expected of the woman to the man was one of a common, natural phenomena, that many in the realm would often not bat an eye to, yet one that held great anticipation for you, in your case. Particularly considering, your lawful husband was no other than the sole King of the Seven Kingdoms. An heir was the ultimate and primary responsibility, expected of you both to fulfil. A royal decree and order of the Faith.

He was to bed you as much as it pleased your Sire, as you were to carry and birth as many lively heirs as possible, blessed as the Gods saw fit. Your anointed Septas had spoken to you countlessly to this coming night, and your dearest mother before her untimely passing: all reinstating the other, that childbirth was no easy game. A duty of womankind and also an honour. To be blessed by the Mother herself, with the gift to carry and birth healthily.

Nonetheless, arrangements made, your House meticulously selected, as your husband to be, Aegon the Second of his name, had been thoroughly consulted by his liege council, thought that the most viable candidate to bear the shared responsibility of carrying out the infamous Targaryen dynasty, was you. Now that the Dance had come to its long-awaited end, Aegon the ultimate successor, reparations needed to be made and lines secured for the generations forthcoming.

The wedding was a swift and grandiose occasion: rich food and wine, opulent gifts and crowds [many faces unfamiliar to yourself] gathered in abundance, the union was legitimised by the Faith of the Seven, binded by law. Aegon scarcely spoke to you during the special occasion besides catching his lingering, lilac eyes fleeting over towards you. Strangely you had also noticed, Aegon would not allow for you to speak for yourself. Often promptly intercepting, answering general questions and well wishes on your behalf, before a peep escaped your reddened lips: you found it odd and somewhat harrowing.

It was an ambivalent feeling, as though Aegon acknowledged your physical presence, yet refused to grant you the privilege to speak nor appreciate you? You felt trivial against his stance, nothing more than a vessel at his complete disposal. You came to the haste, haunting conclusion of neglect... "Aegon does not love me."

Aegon took you to bed that dreadful night, ruling against his Council for a meek audience to be present. He vowed a promise, his lingering words "the deed will be done" remained echoing in your thoughtlessly numb mind.  The door locked as Aegon saw to it himself, no words spared other than fleeting glances, as he took a swift swing of his Dornish wine that accompanied him, as he departed from the feast with you. Observing Aegon this near, his authority in the realm, was not the only quality in him that held a substantially formidable presence...

Unlike his younger brothers, Aegon was fuller in size. His stocky thighs and legs accentuated in size by the tightly fitted breeches, was accompanied by a portly round stomach that looked tense and swollen from the delectable wedding feast and drinking. Not that you had much of an appetite that evening, however, Aegon did not halt when a full serving was laid in front of him, nor the seconds that he demanded for, or a slice of the exquisite cake. One thing you had noticed tonight that you had never heard of before, was that Aegon had an impressive appetite. Whether it was from the nerves of having to bed a woman he scarcely knew, or the undeniable, looming fear of failing to provide an heir, he ate intensely and seemed to enjoy himself rather. The way he'd savour his last few bites, eyes rolling back in satisfaction, how he did not shy away from sculling two full pitchers worth of wine [yet remained stable on his feet and wickedly alert]. Although, a strange, yearning sensation began to churn below, a dull ache growing stronger right between your inner thighs, as you fleetingly observed Aegon's large hand tenderly palming over his distended belly. Close enough in his proximity, you heard an occasional low belch escape from Aegon's plump, greasy lips, poorly attempting to muffle his discomfort with a tight fist over his mouth.

Now in the privacy of your shared, royal chambers, his arms looked strong and sturdy: the flesh of his fingers pooling tightly around his precious rings. Although his face was wildly handsome as most Targaryen men beared celestial-like attributes, history would tell. The ruggedness remaining evident from blatant, healing scars strewed across the side of his cheek and forehead, proof of the recent battles he had bravely fought and won, did not hinder your undeniable attraction towards him. And yet, there was also a softness to his features, the flesh of his jaw ample and blurred, his cheeks plump.

You prayed in that very moment, that Aegon was just as pleased about you, as you were with him.

Undressing himself off his fine fabrics, lashing the pieces onto the floor as though they cost nothing, your tense body froze completely, as Aegon took slow strides towards you. Only inches apart, his rough hands snaking their way behind your illustrious gown, untying the strings effortlessly, as though this was not the first time he had bedded a woman.

"You know what is expected of you," Aegon firmly uttered, his tone unfaltering and deep, you felt your body grow rigid, as his rough hands met your bare skin, the gown loosely falling off your body.

Your naked body rigid, and mind frail, you could not muster the valour to respond timely, seemingly infuriating Aegon.

"Speak woman, use your words for me."

Feeling his thumb simultaneously flicking at your sensitive, perked nipple, sent shivers down your spine, his fierce, glowing eyes cursing from your breasts to your timid face.

"Y-Yes, my dear," You delicately stuttered, your sullen breath hitching in your throat, as you tried to focus solely on fixating your gaze on Aegon and not daring to look to the ground.

"Hmm, therefore you realise what is expected of me, yes? As your dutiful husband and as the King of the Seven Kingdoms, you understand what I must do to you, yes?"

Aegon's hand that was previously occupied playfully kneading and teasing your breast, now sneaked below to your waist, along with his other, his fingertips firmly tightening around the curves for your hips. His head tilted down, lowering his taller height to meet yours, as his lips found their way melting over your flushed skin.

"Y-Yes my King. Y-Yes, Aegon. A child I must bear, an heir... As many heirs as you see fit my King, I will do as you ask, as you please."

A low growl etched from Aegon's throat, animalistic even, as they momentarily broke free from you, as his thumb now gently grazing over your blush cheek and shut lips.

"Together we share this burden, but rest assured, my dear. I will do everything in my power to ensure the Kingdom has an heir. If that means fucking you day and night, sealing you in this room and chaining you to this bed then so be it. Till your dripping proudly of my seed until you take. Not until I see your belly swell greatly with my babe growing inside, may I let you roam the halls freely once more. Understood?"

"Understood."

That night Aegon took you to bed with caution and great intent. He was effortless in handling you, guiding and adjusting your body according to his positions, lifting and carrying you as though you weighed nothing more than a feather. Kissing you abundantly and with passion, often suckling at your tender flesh around your neck and breasts, you felt the spots that he had latched onto growing sore. His eager mouth occupied, his free hand found its way to your cunt, now moist with excitement, throbbing for something more. He remained generous, inserting two of his longest, thick digits inside, pumping himself in a steady, slow pace, feeling your keen walls stretching mildly, clenching around the base of his knuckles, the deeper he plunged himself in. With each helpless moan that slipped from your mouth that he earned, the deeper he shoved himself in, feeling a slick smirk spread against your neck.

"That's it, my love. You don’t even need to tell me just how bad you need your King to fuck you, I can practically feel your body begging for me, baby."

Countless more breathless moans escaped your lips that you'd desperately bit shut, that you could no longer resist. The silent void of the room gradually filling with the natural sounds of lust, as you stuttered and whimpered your King's name aloud.

"Ugh- A-Aeg. I need my King n-now. I w-want my Aeg-"

"Fuck-" Aegon spat, his teeth softly biting down on the ample flesh of your breast, tugging at your tender skin, causing a sharp jolt of pain to shock you, before letting loose. All the while unknowing to you, your Grace had a third digit inserted deep within your walls, his fist now coated in your pooling wetness, oozing between the gaps of your entrance, as his pace had hasten, his thick fingers deeply inside pumping and pushing against the natural tightness of your enclosure. The strange, dense weight and friction of his fingertips rousing against your sensitive clit.

"That's right. Warming you up so, yet it seemed you were already a soaking mess for me, my love.”

Muffled moans as you weakly attempted to fight the urge to scream and beg for more. Aegon's wicked fingers inside, tormenting you as he quickened his pace and the ferocity of his motion. Your back arching lusciously, as your hips bucked upwards and back again, motioning for more.

"Think you are ready for me, baby? Think you are ready to take my cock, till I fuck you full of my hot seed. Are you ready to be a mother?"

"Y-Yes, Aeg!" You breathlessly yelp, your hands having instinctively found their way to his platinum locks, the mottled strands caught in your fingers, as you grasped and pulled at his roots. As your arms outstretched below your sides, your breasts naturally shoved and pressed together in unison, accentuating your obvious cleavage more so, that Aegon helplessly found himself tempted. Only a second bypassed, before the bulky King found himself crawling further up atop your yielding body, with great effort, huffing and puffing as he subtly caught his breath, before burying his handsome face between, suckling at your hard, perky nipples. His heavy, round belly laid sprawled against your own abdomen, feeling his clothed, rigid cock beneath his tight pants, the tense bulge probing at your inner thigh walls.

"Soon these will be greatly full of the Mother's blessed milk, and I will relish myself with the spoils of my babe growing inside. Knowing that it was all my undoing, that made you so. Gods be good, they will be full enough, practically leaking from the vast supply. Our babes will be well fed, and I, too, hmm."

"A-Aeg, I need you. F-Fuck a babe into me, a-and I shall feed and fuck you, a-as you please."

"Mhmm, my good, pretty wife. Already at my mercy-"

Feeling the rush movements of Aegon's free hand below [as the other remained steadying himself], you had no sense of what was occurring below, nor could you see, as his stout belly blocked your view. Yet the sudden, grazing sensation of his moist, hard cock teasing at the entrance of your wet, throbbing folds, you could bear it no more.

"You promise you can take me, baby? Show me how well of an obedient wife you can be, just as much of a pretty one you are."

No warning and no remorse, Aegon shoved his thick, stiff cock into your aching, tight cunt. Despite Aegon's perilous efforts of 'warming you up', nothing amounted to the concoction of sheer ecstasy and pain that coarsed through your veins, as your King's cock, stretched you out, pushing your limits beyond comfort. And yet, you could feel the familiar, dull throbbing sensation growing more palpable by the second: desperately trying to clench around the girth of his fat, bulky circumference, your nails digging into the plump adipose flesh of his broad shoulders and back, as you remained stagnant and tense around him.

"That's it, baby- Fuck. D-Doing so, so well for me. I can just fucking feel how tight you really are around me, fuck! L-Let me just break into you, easy, easy now-"

Moaning cries and whimpers filled Aegon's ears, yet he remained focused. His pace although messy and sloppy was steady, slowly slowly, thrusting himself as equipped as his larger frame would allow him, his solid weight weighing him down against you, you move no further than squirm with remaining, great effort. Feeling his pulsating cock inside, striking adamantly against your cervix, and the pressure of his swollen, distended gut, pressing from above, with each passing second as you felt an immense, stimulating arousal brewing from below. The fierce, physical tensity of Aegon's size inside and out, was invigorating, as your body obediently attempted to adjust to your husband's size.

"Good-Good wife. That's it, baby, I'm going to cum any second now. Fuck this pretty, tight cunt of yours was needy for her King to spoil. I can feel how desperate you are for my babe, huh?"

"Y-Yes, Aeg-"

"I'm going to keep you locked up, all for myself. Till I can fuck as many heirs as I see fit. U-Until this entire quarter is full of our babes, till the realm can hear their cries. You and this tight cunt of yours are not leaving. Not until I'm fucking satisfied. All mine, now."

"Of-Of course, my King-"

"Fuck, Y/N, was I right about you, huh? Obedient from the start, you greedy, little brat, you wanted this just as much as I. Could you imagine yourself as I did, only full of my royal seed, only you worthy to take me."

"O-Only me. M-Made just for you, Aeg, as the Gods deemed it."

"No, woman. I deemed it. I made the decision. I wanted you. O-Only this cunt to take my seed, these hips to grow wide for the birth, and this belly to swell proudly. Till I see these tits leak and you waddling around, begging me to hold and carry you, this was all my undoing from the start. I am the King, the closest thing to the Gods, and farthest from men."

"Th-Then I am eternally at your mercy and will. M-My beloved-"

As you felt the tense excitement sparking below, the invigorating relief as your wetness had reached a peaking climax, the shudder of chills that echoed through your body, the momentum evaporated, as you twitched and felt feeble against Aegon’s sturdy build. Your wetness drenching his cock, as it once more, oozed heavily against your folds and inner thighs. Aegon's immediate, instinctive release adjunct to your own, earned a mouthful of deep, growling moans and breathless swears from the King himself in relief. His hot, ample seed shot through inside, painting your inner walls, as you felt his body weight drop even more against you, all energy exerted.

Shifting himself to your side, as to not suffocate you against his bulky frame, embracing your flustered, exhausted self in his strong arms, his twitching, thick cock, however remained buried inside.

"Tonight we shall remain united as man and woman, like so. Heed my words earnestly, Y/N. Until I see this belly grow round and full, you will stay in this chamber, until I say otherwise. You obey no other orders unless directly from me, understood? I will send maids to help you, you will not lift a single finger so long as you are my wife. You answer to no one but me.”’

Feeling your nod against his plump, meaty chest. Aegon’s hands found their way to your unkempt, loose hair. Brushing the strands off your sweaty, blush face. Although his words were stern and mildly threatening, his actions remained tender.

“B-But what if the Gods do not see me fit to mother your heirs? W-what if I am… What if I am barren, my King?”

Aegon’s silence was eerily unnerving, although his breath did not hitch in shock of your sudden question, his breathing now regained to stability, remained unfaltering as he contemplated.

“You are my wife, the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. If anyone wishes to question your purpose in my life, regardless of whom, will answer to me… The King. And they will anguish as I see fit.”

The bright days and chill nights had passed since the wedding night. Aegon, committed to his promise, whenever his duty fulfilled and time free, he would return to you, only to embrace you, love you and fuck you. Proudly filling you day and night full of a fresh batch of his seed, despite practically still being a drenching mess from when he had last left you. Servants attended to your every need: when he felt he had you exhausted, pushed to your limits, your body delicate and tiresome eyes drifting off to a deep slumber. He would let you be, only sharing close proximity as he embraced you cozily. He ordered the chefs to have your supper and meals sent piping hot, in a timely manner and occasionally found himself joining you in attendance, than his own family feasts. A table set up for the both of you, an intimate quiet dinner between a husband and his wife. He much preferred your company, anyways.

His family, more often the Dowager Queen and Hand, himself, promptly questioned Aegon regarding your whereabouts, he would disclose to you.

“At one point my dear mother had feared you’d run away,” Aegon chuckled, as he scoffed a piece of his roast down, followed by a scull of his wine.

“And what if I had? Would you let me be, or have Ser Arryk sent out to seek me out, dear husband?”

Aegon’s familiar eyes flashed towards you instantly, although the longing, tender look was replaced with a cold, menacing pierce.

“Go against this union, means you go against my decision… The decision of your King. I would send out a whole battalion if need be, and when I have you in my grasp, I will rid you of this luxury and see to it that I lock you up in one of the cells below the Red Keep. Fuck you like a common whore, and summon you like a predator to its prey. Until I’m certain you’ve learnt your lesson… Now are you still tempted to run?”

Shaking your head promptly, Aegon’s half-hearted smirk was enough to ease the tension. With all the intimacy involved, you had both gradually become quite comfortable with one another, enough to speak your minds, as Aegon often urged from you on your behalf. Although, only between you two. He firmly ordered for servants and guards alike, to be absent during your shared moments, in an attempt to ease you into speaking with confidentiality and also, to avoid whispers being spread. After the Dance, Aegon was often sceptical of people’s intentions, considering all the treachery he’d been exposed to during the early years of his reign.

Regardless, it was Aegon who was the first to notice subtle changes, only adding it all up when you had meekly disclosed to him that you had not bled in the past two months. Immediately he sought a guard to fetch for the maester and soon enough, his long-awaited wishes had been confirmed.

Aegon often watched over you more intensely now, his eyes ogling over your swelling belly, how the waistline of your gown had grown slightly tighter around your stomach, and your breasts looking fuller, more sensitive under his teasing touch. Relieved, however it was far from the end for Aegon... The King himself, had become even more brutally protective over you, and the babe inside, still adamant on keeping you confined, rested and guarded.

"No harm will come towards you or the babe, so long as I breathe and rule."

He even had Sunfyre tenaciously fly above your tower, granting him peace of mind that no threat could overpower the fury of a dragon.

Nonetheless, the Gods had blessed you to full term, and a healthy babe was born. A son, a true embodiment of the Targaryen dynasty, and the rightful heir to the Seven Kingdoms. Aegon was beyond sated that you and the babe had recovered from the gruelling nature of birth, and seldom to his words, he allowed you free to roam, with the newborn warmly nestled in your arms, and Aegon relentlessly by your side. That was until, the King felt the desire for yet another heir to be proclaimed."Need I remind you of our wedding night, my beloved... You promised your King as many heirs. It is only natural as a true-born Targaryen, that I take what is mine."

general taglist - @evenstaris @bel-bottoms @fan-goddess @malfoytargaryen @ilikeitbetterangsty @bibli0thecary @m1ndbrand @connorsui @elegantsplendour @randomdragonfires @sylas-the-grim @arcielee @s-we-e-t-t-ea @sahvlren @aemondtargaryensrider @watercolorskyy

Aegon ii taglist - @who-told-you-this-was-butter @f4ll-for-you @amiraisgoingthruit @bucknastysbabe

credit for divider - @/babesindestroyland

[frostbitebakery]

Loud.

part one two three four five

“Why are you buttering me up, Master?” Obi-Wan signs, taking another careful sip of the cookie shake.

Master Tholme unfolds his hands on the table, cane resting against his leg. “Because I understand that you might not want to participate in this mission,” he signs back. It must be one of those days where he doesn’t want to talk. Obi-Wan understands and lets the silence engulf them. “But the Council and I feel that this is where you need to be.”

.

“Master,” Obi-Wan signs and bows.

“Hello, Obi-Wan.”

It’s not the first time he’s seen Qui-Gon again after Melidaan’s parting gift almost killed him. Of course they’ve seen each other. Qui-Gon had been there for him while he recovered, had hovered over Master Tholme’s shoulder like a shadow.

“A particularly annoying shadow,” Master Tholme had commented drily back then. “Which is funny, considering.“

Obi-Wan opens his arms and Qui-Gon’s tall frame closes around him. Maybe a queezing too tight but… but that doesn’t matter. “How are you,” he taps on a broad shoulder.

He’s abruptly let go. Not pushed back, thankfully.

“I am well, thank you.” Qui-Gon falls silent.

Obi-Wan has forced himself to stop trying to make the awkwardness between them less uncomfortable by the time he turned sixteen and Master Tholme sat him down to explain why he should let Qui-Gon come to grips with everything that has happened between them on his own until Qui-Gon reaches out to him.

“How are you?” And the caring and heartbreak lingering in Qui-Gon’s eyes is too much.

“I feel prepared to accompany you on this mission.”

It had been Qui-Gon who had taught him sign language in different iterations useful across the galaxy, before and later. Tholme has taught him tap code, after.

“Then let’s not waste any time,” Qui-Gon says, eyes on his long padawan braid.

.

Meeting Anakin feels… weird in the Force.

“So you don’t talk? Ever?”

Obi-Wan shakes his head, amusement crinkling his eyes.

“You don’t want to or you can’t?” the boy asks before his eyes widen. “Both are fine!”

“Cannot,” he signs carefully, settling on an Outer Rim dialect.

“Oh, ok!”

It’s the beginning of a never ending nightmare. Tatooine. Naboo. The desperate attempts to stop a war from happening.

He keeps to the background, inconspicuous and invisible.

Which is the only reason he ends up in the plasma refinery complex.

.

“It’ll be alright, little one,” Qui-Gon murmurs, gentle fingers wiping tears away before they reach the mask. “Just squeeze my hand.”

“Master,” he taps, hiccups threatening to disrupt something in his throat.

“Take care of the boy.”

.

So he does.

He brings Anakin back to the Temple, watches over his nightmares in silence.

He kneels as Master Tholme cuts his braid.

He explains to the Council what he thinks.

Anakin is bright. Smart and a beacon in the Force. He’s older than usual, granted. But his connection to the Force is palpably vast and potentially dangerous if he isn’t trained to handle that connection. He’s safer in the Temple where they can watch over him and teach him.

The Council agrees.

.

He introduces Anakin to Depa.

Her dry wit has the boy relaxing. Her no-nonsense attitude is a guiding light, a steady framework he can lean on and count on.

Depa delights in showing him the Temple, the opportunities to learn and try out new experiences.

.

Shadow work piles up and suddenly Obi-Wan is running around the galaxy trying to put out fires.

When he’s slumped in the back door of an abandoned factory in the shady part of an Outer Rim planet, struggling to breathe and feeling like he’s dying, lightsaber in a death grip, he makes the decision to return to the Temple. The mask has to change or he will die because he is out of breath. Unacceptable.

The technicians look at him chagrined and apologetic, explain that this is all they can do at the moment, maybe he can take it a bit easier?

“No, you need to adjust the valves on—“ a small voice peeps up from behind his shoulder.

Obi-Wan has been aware Anakin is clinging to his back like a monkey bear. He’s ignored the looks he’s gotten on the way to the tech complex.

“Have at it, then,” he signs.

Anakin looks at him like he’s personally chosen every star in the galaxy as he hands over the mask.

.

“An order.”

“A strong suggestion,” Mace corrects.

“Call it what it is,” Obi-Wan signs, cutting through the air with his hands he’s so furious. “Chancellor Palpatine has no business wanting to spend time with Anakin.”

Mace sighs, leans back in the chair. “I’m aware, Obi-Wan.” He taps his fingers against the armrest but he’s releasing energy, focusing his thoughts, not code. “How are you feeling?”

The renewed esophagus has him out of the mission count for a bit yet, he’s slowly weaned off the artificial nutrition. Overall, he’s starting to feel a bit restless.

“Perhaps you want to enjoy Coruscant’s scenery while you’re here?” Mace asks, a twinkle in his eye. “Though I beg you to not get into trouble,” he adds with a frown. “Too much trouble, I mean. I forgot for a second who I was talking to.”

Spying on the Chancellor is not on Bant’s list of approved activities but what she doesn’t know…

Obi-Wan touches his chin and brings his hand forward.

.

“So you can either sign in the dark or write tap code with these gloves. You can adjust the brightness and still sneak around.”

“Thank you, Ani.” It’s one of the best gifts he’s ever had the honor of receiving. It solves a lot of problems on missions. He hugs the boy close and feels swept up in the thoughtfulness. “I don’t sneak.”

“You totally do and it’s so wizard!”

.

“You were supposed to be my Master!”

[alanaartdream]

Ok some of you peeps in the fairly Odd parents fandom seem to forget that

A) Timmy was a abused and neglected kid who’s only good influence in his life was Wanda Cosmo and poof/peri so of course he’s wasn’t perfect and made some mistakes but he’s a good kid at heart he just dealing with some selfish parents who in some episodes forgot to be parents so Wanda & Cosmo had to step up and be the parents he so sorely needed (I still can’t forget episodes where they Forgot his birthday; to feed him AND how Nega Timmy came about )

AND

B) being as after Cosmo was born fairies were not allowed to have babies anymore so the only way Wanda & Cosmo could even have poof/Peri was because Timmy saw how upset they were about not having a baby of their own so he WISHED that they could; it was the greatest gift / wish he ever gave them so peri wouldn’t of existed without Timmy wishing him into existence so all you Peri fans not only do you have Wanda & Cosmo to thank for Peri but Timmy Turner as well so maybe you all should stop with the victim blaming of a abused victim and be grateful for Timmy wishing Peri into existence

Now if you all excuse me I need sleep because I’ve gotta be well rested before I head off for work tomorrow good night 💤