#to her daughter... giving her a second chance to be a good mother and allow her child to live a happy life.. to finally and properly move o

[alyimoss]

might write smthn for the first time in. what, a year?? two years?? simply bc the thought of clover + feisty five found family, specifically dad starlo, is destroying me so bad and theres like 4 fics tops with that concept and its making me want to chew drywall from a building made in the 70s. im having symptoms.

[councilofcastamere]

WINTER NIGHTS | CREGAN STARK X TARG!READER ꧂

a b r i d g e m e n t : With tensions rising, your elder half-sister Rhaenyra arranges for you to seek asylum in the freezing land of the North. And fortunately for you, Cregan is there to show you how Northmen operate.

TW: penetration, loss of virginity, breeding kink, mentions gender roles but in a sexy way, sexual tension, sibling jealousy, childhood neglect, mentions of death by birth, shitty character development

A/N: I know the girly portrayed is Visenya but her body is tea in this so maybe I do know best…

The second daughter. The oh-so passed over maiden. Not belonging to anything, nor belonging to nothing. Not the first, and not the last. An ever enduring memory to a passed over era. Nothing significant. Never anything significant.

That’s what you were. Insignificance. A beautiful insignificance, if you could see beauty in tragedy. Beauty in all the ways of life. All the little horrible things that make up a big, beautiful, picture. People shan’t look close, you’d assure yourself.

But you were you. Born to the everlasting way of royal life. To the peaceful Viserys, and his second wife, a woman whose name is not all that important. Another maiden from a noble house that perished to childbirth. Lost her life, giving life.

And as it did not to many maidens, the Gods did not grant you the chance to grow up with your mother. The blood that dripped down her thighs had covered you from head to toe as you came into existence, and she had naught of you in her arms before a deep and long slumber overcame her. The stranger had come for her, and he did not slow down on its way. He’d taken her as quick as she’d given you to the world. A quick exchange, you’d suppose.

Now and then you think about her. What she might have looked like, what she might have liked, what she might have been had she survived the wretched burden of your existence. You’d often wonder if infants who survived childbirth ever felt as deep a burden as she did. To have your very first breath of life tainted with the death of an innocent. Tainted with tragedy.

Growing up in King’s Landing hadn’t been all that as it sounded. You’d never really been that happy, as ungracious as it sounded.

You had an older sister - Rhaenyra - who’d occasionally humoured you. You’d never seen much of her, really. Perhaps it was your own fault as well. For not actively seeking her out. For not being the younger sister one was supposed to be. Some people - as close to you as they may be - are just unattainable in your mind. Your kin aren’t your kin until you allow it.

You have better companions than her, you figured. You had your lady-in-waitings. Lady Vievenne of house Swann. Lady Laycie of house Oldflowers. Lady Claere of house Ambrose. Lady Evelyne of house Hightower, who was, by all accounts, a gift from your newest stepmother, Alicent of the house Hightower.

What you also had was younger siblings. Such as Aegon. Though he is naught but a skirt enthusiast, swimming along the sea of young maidens at his whim. But he cares not whether they are, does he?

And oh, do not get yourself started on the one-eyed prince and that smug little smile on his sharp-featured face. Nonetheless, he was gentle. Oh so gentle with his touch. And oh so sinister in the way that made you feel important enough to be in his good graces.

However, you chose to distance yourself from all parties involved as fate made it clear what it had in store. A great slap to the great Targaryen dynasty. A dark cloud looming over the already curse-clad clan.

For even you knew that the only thing that could tear down the House of the Dragon, was itself.

“Sister.” you greeted one late evening, having taken flight to Dragonstone on your she-dragon, Starfyre. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

“…y/n.” the elder sister called out, a small smile on her lips. “I… am glad for your visit.”

“…I’m certain you are,” you say, trying with all your might to contain a frown.

You eyed her awkwardly as she wiped her sweaty hands off her dress, letting out a sigh as the elder royal wasn’t quite certain how to approach the topic.

“I… understand… things quite haven’t been… that active, in our kinship,” Rhaenyra speaks up, taking a step closer. “And for that, I apologise.”

You could only nod, a small smile gracing your lips at the heartwarming confession of absent love.

“I apologise, also.” you smiled, your hands finding each other behind your back. “I suppose I should have been the one to seek your company and counsel as well.”

“Good.” Rhaenyra smiled awkwardly, a silence engulfing the echo-ridden chambers. “The reason, as to why I called you, might be surprising.”

You froze slightly, heart pounding as the possibilities of implications travelled through your mind. The goosebumps on your arms grew more prominent as a cold breeze passed through.

“Oh?” you answered, cocking a brow. “And what might that be, sister?”

“I ask of you to travel to the North,” Rhaenyra admits, a tone of seriousness overshadowing the warm moment. “I have already sent a raven to Lord Cregan Stark, and he has agreed to host you. If it pleases you, of course.”

No answer came out of your lips, save for your a mere breath. You felt a pang in your heart, consuming your every emotion, making certain you cannot detect how you feel about the news.

A dragon in the north? What a jest. You’d do better in Dorne, surrounded by sun-kissed squires and stable boys than laddish lordlings and Northern butchers.

“And… why should I?” you asked, respect in your tone. “Pardon me, my sister, but why have you made this decision for me?”

“Tensions are rising, y/n. You know that as well as I do.” Rhaenyra sighs, her body language giving up on its tense posture. “And I am aware of your… complex feelings on it. But to the North you must. I’m sending Rhaena to the Va-”

“Yes, because Rhaena gets to be hosted by a relative of yours, in safety. Meanwhile you sent me off to some Northern stranger!”

“Y/n.” Rhaenyra warned, raising a brow. She took a step closer as you composed your words. “You are my sister, and I will have you safe in the North. The Northmen are honourable men, and in time you’ll know.”

✫彡

And so you were, clad in thick fur, lady Vivenne and lady Evelyne at both sides of yourself. Across from you sat three servants, and somewhere else sat your sworn shield.

“It will be splendid.” Evelyne beamed, properly adjusting her hair, tied up in a bun, similar to the ones the older maidens wear. “We shall meet every dusk, and speak about our day. In front of the fire.”

“Not if I can help it.” you sighed softly. “Apologies, my ladies, but I’ll let you two get at it. I’d love to explore the North in solitude.”

“Right…” Vivenne nodded, looking through the small peep holes as the carriage slowed down, just outside the gates of Winterfell. “We’ve arrived, I suppose. You’ll have to greet Lord Stark. If he’s anything we’ve heard of and more, I wish you luck.”

You only nodded, watching as your ladies exited the carriage, standing at the side of the door. Their faces are cast down, as if in mourning. Perhaps they’re mourning the life of luxury provided at King’s Landing.

You could not blame them for it, really. From growing up in their own house, to growing up in the Royal house, to trade it again to live to see the snowy winters of Winterfell.

You shook slightly, the cold air hitting your face in an instant as you slightly lifted your dress, taking a step out of the three provided for the carriage.

You looked ahead of you, eyes locking on the noblemen and women, standing straight and proud. The women bore clothes of low quality, so obviously sewn to fit any class. The men wore dark furs, contrasting to the blue clothing of the opposite sex.

And in the midst of it, stood Cregan Stark, accompanied by a mere little boy of just two years of age. Your eyes locked upon his stormy-grey ones, his face etched into a stern expression, eyes focused on yours.

You maintained the eye contact, taking each step closer to him.

“Princess Y/N.” Cregan greeted formally, taking your soft hand in his. “Welcome to Winterfell. I am Lord Cregan Stark.”

“Thank you, Lord Stark.” you smile, curtsying in a fashionable manner. Your eyes stood glued on his as his lips brushed against the palm of your hand. “I’m truly honoured to be here.”

“…I’m certain you are.” Cregan answered, eyeing you skeptically.

Hearing false compliments wasn’t out of the ordinary for the wolf of Winterfell. He knew well enough that you weren’t suited for the North. You were a Southern lady, used to the life of feasts, luxury, and sparkly dresses.

“Let us go inside, shall we?” you smiled charmingly, looking up at the tall castle with dread in your eyes.

“Aye, so we shall.” Cregan nodded, his broad shoulders most notable as he sauntered into the opened gates.

✫彡

The first night went unfamiliar to you, the harsh blows of the cold weather creating a prominent presence looming over the already melancholic times.

You sat in your chambers, sitting at the stony window sill as you watched Cregan from above.

The lord was overlooking young squires on the courtyard, engaged in conversation with the knight in charge of guiding the young to-be-knights.

All dressed in fur, shoulders looking as if they were padded. Cregan’s hair was tied up, with two front strands escaping and hanging loose. His grey-blue eyes stood glued at watching the young squire’s techniques, and you could only sigh as you got lost in his appearance.

Ever since stepping foot into the North of Westeros, you’d developed a strange sense of interest in the beauty of Northern men. How they all dressed so grimly, but intimidating. How they’re oh-so honourable and hard working. How they always seemed so clean shaven but rugged all at once.

And you could not help but wonder what it would be like had you wedded one of them.

Being completely honest, you’d never really been the sort of maiden to stay inside of her chambers, waiting for her husband to return from his duty, deprived of affection.

With any Southern lord, being a doting unappreciated wife would never cross your mind.

But with Northern men, however, you had the feeling your efforts wouldn’t go unnoticed.

Before you could continue your vulgarly confusing thoughts, you saw Cregan’s eyes shift to yours, finding your gaze.

You could only lean against the window, a hand on the stony side as you gazed back at him. Your hair was loose, and you were dressed in your creamy beige nightdress.

You held his gaze for a moment, until ultimately turning away, leaving the implications of that gaze to his imagination.

✫彡

By the third day, you’d been reading in the old library belonging to House Stark. You’d sat on a plush seat, the dusty book on your lap as your gentle fingers flipped through the pages.

But you weren’t alone.

Cregan Stark sat near you, his knees in almost touching proximity to yours.

“Aye, the North is cold, but it’s honest.” he tells you, gently shutting his own book. “The snow doesn’t lie about its intention. No courtly games like they play in the South.”

“Oh, please.” you smiled, shutting your book as well. your body shifted so it was facing his, resting your head on one hand. “The courtly games are what makes it so fun.”

“Now, riddle me this.” You smiled, noting his full attention on you. His body language exuded calmness, and you felt secure in the knowledge that his comfort lies with you. “How do you not like courtly games? Personally, it makes my life all the more amusing.”

“I suppose it’s all jesting for you, princess.” Cregan said, his eyes resting on yours. “Amusement or not, I’d rather know where I stand…”

“With you, however…” His eyes trailed down to your bare shoulder, the white nightdress you’re wearing very much a sight of sore eyes. “I think I know.”

“Oh, do you?” you teased, cocking a brow. “And how so, pray tell?”

“Well…” he grunted, shifting in his seat to tighten the proximity around you two. “You’d do well not to cross any Northern man. They don’t take well to… courtly games.”

You only smiled at that, your upper body instinctively leaning in, albeit torturously slow.

“And, uh, suppose I… marry a Northern lord.” you teased quite coquettishly, a hand moving to rest on the thick fur coating his body. “What am I in for.”

You watched as his smirk only widened, gently taking the hand that rested on his fur, and taking it in his.

“Marry a Northern lord like me, and have your nights warmed under the thick fur of blankets.” he says, his thumb rubbing against your knuckles. “Northern loyalty runs deep, princess. That’s what you’d be in for.”

You nodded slowly, and you could not help but notice those coloured eyes of his descending onto your perky breasts.

Great, this was all going well so far. “I’d imagine… do you think he’d gift me a pup? I’ve always wanted a tiny pet, to keep.”

“Yeah?” The lord licked his lips, a hand resting on your waist. “You think you’d handle a wolf properly?”

“Well, I would.” you smiled, nodding in agreement. “I’m a dragon… and dragons do not surrender that easily.”

You smiled, shifting in your seat again as Cregan amusedly indulged you in your silly thoughts. “Just imagine it, my lord. I’d be holding that pup every night trying to get it to warm to me.”

Your hand slowly, but surely, trickled down to his clothed thigh, trying to maintain a sense of quiet intimacy.

“You’ll have your work cut out for you, then.” his voice lowered, bordering on husky. “Wolves aren’t so easily tamed, not even by someone with…”

He paused for a moment, a hand gently taking the one you placed on his thigh.

“…your charms.”

You’d have a cheeky comeback on the tip of your tongue, had it not been for Cregan’s lips descending upon yours, clashing together like Blackwoods and Brackens.

You let out a soft breath as you eased into the kiss, feeling his large hands grip your waists as if his life depended on it.

Your hands moved from his shoulders, to his neck, and then to his armoured chest. The armour he carried felt cold to your hands, yet it made it all the more sinful.

“Did you have this in mind?” you murmured against his lips, tongue circling his as you so sloppily attempted to kiss him. “Seducing me?”

The silence engulfed you two for a moment, only being overshadowed by the sound of soft breaths.

“You have it wrong, princess.” he breathed, firmly planting you upon his lap, your back pressing against his chest. “Do you take me for a halfwit?”

You smiled, looking over your shoulder as you attempted to chase his lips with yours again.

“No, but I certainly did not take you for a man so easily seduced.” you teased, guiding his hands to your clothed breasts. “You don’t seem the type to give in that easily.”

“Because it’s untrue.” he spoke up, lips brushing to against your neck. “But do you honestly think nothing would be done about the way you saunter around, looking as you do?”

His hands slowly tugged against your nightdress, pressing a hard kiss to your achy jaw before pulling away.

“Lay yourself down on the carpet.” he commanded, hands shifting to peel off his fur coat, along with his armour and tunic.

All you could do was nod and watch on as his armour went discarded on the floor, the metal material cranking against the stone ground.

His bare chest was now visible, the defining abs illuminated by the glowing fire. His hair messed up when he threw his tunic over his head.

“Cregan, I-"

And in one moment, you felt his large body overshadow yours, clashing lips again. Cregan lifted his body as to not crush you, hands on either side of your head.

You only permitted yourself to breathe unevenly, stead of moan. Your hands found his shoulders, desiring to pull him closer than possible.

“Ever since you’ve arrived you’d been nothing but trouble.” Cregan murmured, lips finding your throat. “Sauntering around with your ladies, endlessly teasing me.”

Your legs only shifted to wrap around his waist, back slowly arching at the kisses.

He took notice, and let one of his hands pin you down, lips descending towards your perky breasts.

“Gods, you’re wrong for this.” he grunted, swirling his tongue around the nipple. “For provoking me, as you did yesterday, and the day before that.”

“For thinking you have the authority to do this to a lord.” he breathed, your small breast fitting into his large palm.

“For…” he continued, kissing down your stomach, before ultimately glancing back at you “…thinking you’d get away with this.”

“I did not think I���d get away with this.” you tease, watching as he moves face-to-face again. “Which is why I did it.”

Your hands find his muscled arms, squeezing it gently. “I want to know how Northern men do it.”

You’d think you were jesting, but were you truly?

You’d have opened your mouth to say anything else, looking up at him, if it weren’t for the Northern lord himself roughly flipping you to your stomach.

“You wish to know, my princess?” he murmurs, unlatching his breeches. “You’d have your first time be with a Northman?”

You nodded, cheek resting on the carpet fabric without surrender. “Yes. Gods yes.”

He hiked your skirt around your waist, your plump ass visible to his peering eyes.

“You’ll be ruined for other men, aye.” He grunted, his hand wrapping around his rock hard cock.

“That’s good, because I desire no one save you.” you smiled, allowing him to lift your hips up and arch your back.

“Yeah?” he smirked, the tip of his cock rubbing against your damp hole. “You’ll have me make you my wife?”

You nodded, impatiently moving your hips. “I wouldn’t be opposed to it.”

“You’d be a good wife, wouldn’t you?” he grunted once again, head finally pushing into your unloosened clit. “No Southern games, no poignant looks of yours.”

“You like that about me.” you painfully breathed, feeling the uncomfortable ache of his cock in your newly penetrated cunt.

His head descended, placing gentle kisses upon your shoulders. “A maiden. Perhaps you aren’t as well-equipped to handle a wolf as you said you were.”

“I am.” you protested, pushing your hips back. “Move your hips. I wish to prove myself.”

He only speeded up his thrusts, and as you allowed the moans to fill your lips, his hands found a way to push your head down.

“You’d carry my pups?” he asked, thrusting into you aggressively, pumping his cock in and out. “Wait on my cock every night?”

You only moaned incredulously, asscheeks clapping along with every snap of his hips.

“Yes.” you breathed, gasp and claps filling the room. “Fuck, put a babe inside of me. I want your children.”

“We’ll have to wed sooner, before the babe gets born in wedlock.” he grunted, hands gripping your hips, pushing you back onto his thick length. “But that’s what you wanted all along, was it?”

You gripped the fabric of the carpet, cheeks burning as it rubbed against the irritating carpet.

“For a thick cock such as this.” he teased, tugging at your hair.

“Yes.” you moaned pathetically, cheeks flushed as you felt a knot forming into your stomach.

Your lips parted, your eyes rolling above-ways.

“Yes, yes!” you moaned loudly, feeling his hands grope your breasts. “Fuck, you’re moving fast.”

“Never fast enough.” he murmurs, member sliding against your wet slit.

He could feel your tight walls clenching around him, milking his cock for all it is worth. His grip on you tightened as he thrust down to meet your upward motion.

And with one sharp thrusts, you felt the knot loosen and the cream dripping out your twitching clit.

Yet, he didn’t stop, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he rode you through your orgasm.

The feeling of your walls clenching around his cock was enough to send him reeling as well, burying himself deep inside of you.

Hot spurts of cum dripping out of your hole, you completely got yourself spent, closing your eyes and deciding you could just fall asleep on this carpet.

“No sleeping in the library.” he scolded lightly, putting on his fur coat, covering his naked physique. “Come here.”

You exhaustedly crawled over to him again, and snuck yourself into his coat, the clothing covering both of your naked bodies.

“I’m taking you to your chambers.” he sighs, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. “And for the next time, do not attempt to get so exhausted. I went easy on you this time.”

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCxDP Fic Idea: The Contact, the Butler and the Sly Time Lord

Martha accidentally engaged Bruce to a higher being when he was two.

It sounds terrible, but she hadn't thought that the man wearing the Time ghost costume at her husband's Halloween Gala wasn't wearing a costume and was actually the physical embodiment of Time.

She just thought he took Halloween very seriously.

Mr. Clockwork was charming and didn't care that she had married from the lower level of first class. Her parents were rich, of course, but they weren't old money, and they certainly didn't have a lot of power to speak of.

Because of that, the elites of Gotham thought she wasn't good enough to be in a family such as the Waynes. It was so lovely not to be dragged into conversations that were thinly concealed insults.

Everyone else at the Gala thought Martha had no right to be there with them. Why was she just a few zeros off from being middle class, and wasn't it just so sad that Thomas would stain his family with her?

Secertly, Martha prayed Bruce would do something wild, like marry a girl from Crime Alley or even adopt kids in lower classes to make them all choke on their pearls.

Her son would be one of the most powerful men in a few years, and she couldn't wait to see what kind of hell he would unleash upon them. She would never push, of course, but it would be a nice fantasy to have every time she had to face passive-aggressive comments from ladies told by their fathers they would be a far better Mrs. Wyane.

" Why, hello there. Aren't you the cutest little thing?" Mr. Clockwork coos, smiling down at Bruce. He clung to his mother's skirt, his matching cowboy costume a miniature version of what she was wearing.

The boy had wandered over in the middle of their conversation once he was bored of coloring at his table. Martha couldn't blame her poor baby. There really wasn't much to do for those his age here.

Thomas had stated that children were usually not brought along due to being loud and distracting.

Martha wouldn't hear any of it, insisting her son would be going with them at the party or there would be no party. The majority of the elites believed children should be seen, not heard, and that boiled her blood something fierce.

Thomas had thankfully known when to pick his battles, so he allowed his wife to drag him to a costume store for a family costume to wear. He currently chatting with a group of investors in all his cowboy glory somewhere on the other side of the gala.

"Say thank you, Bruce," She tells her boy, but he only hides his face more, causing the two adults to chuckle. "Do you have kids, Mr.Clockwork?"

"Yes. Two daughters and a son" The man chuckles "All three are a handleful but I love them dearly."

"Oh, how wonderful. Bruce is my only son, but I want to give him siblings," she tells him warmly. She can picture Bruce chasing after his younger siblings dressed up as the Grey Ghost he loves.

She knows Thomas was worried about their chances of having a second child. He was informed not too long ago that he may suffer from secondary infertility. She didn't mind. If they couldn't have a child of their own by blood they could easily adopt.

Martha worked long and hard to provide good orphanages to the city. Maybe one day, a child from there could be her own. She'll have to speak to her orphanage managers- those in charge of the kids- to see if they could help her find one.

They have successfully been getting kids into good homes (At least she thought the number of children constantly changed, and the kids were never seen again, meaning the families that adopted them loved them enough to never return!)

Mr. Clockwork hums "how about giving him a spouse instead? My girls or boy could be a good partner"

Laughing, she assumes he meant her work on bettering the lives of the gay community- in honor of her brother who passed during the AIDs epidemic. "I'm sure Bruce would be happy to hear Mommy found him a husband."

"Is that a yes?" Clockwork eyes' flashed with an emotion that was gone too quick for her to identify.

"Yes, of course. If that is what they both want, I wouldn't mind their marriage at all."

Mr. Clockworks red eyes - contacts? A medical condition?- gleam, and his voice takes on a strange rhythm. "Then so shall it be, my son Danny Fenton shall be married to Bruce Wayne per their Blood Mother and Core Father deal."

Huh. Maybe Mr. Clockwork is a nutcase. Suddenly, she thinks back to her father, who would often tell her that she lived in a delusion because he did not want her to see the horror that Gotham truly is.

Even when you think you're doing good, Gotham has a way of making your work into nightmares.

Was Mr. Clockwork one of those people he warned her about?

Thankfully, he leaves not long after that. He claims he must return to work before his co-workers notice him gone. She doesn't see him for the rest of the night and half wonders if she had been speaking to one of the wait staff they hired as extra help.

Not that she minded, but it made her think his name might not even be Clockwork.

She tells Thomas the story hours after Bruce is put to bed with a candy bucket and the last guests have all slipped home. Thomas is exhausted, having been playing host longer than her because Martha had left around eight to take Bruce trick and treating. Then she got home and put him down for his bedtime.

She got back to the party around eleven but it was a much-needed break from all the hostility that Thomas had been forced to face alone.

"WHAT!?" Thomas booms when she finishes the story. They had just crawled into bed, and Thomas had been rolling to his side for sleep before her words flung him back. "Clockwork!? You're sure you spoke to Clockwork!?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

"What did he look like?"

"Um well he was in costume, but red eyes, blue skin, and he was wearing purple robes." She watches as the blood drains from her husband's face. "What is it darling? Who was he?"

"Oh, this isn't good....Alfred! Alfred!" Thomas frantically calls as if the devil had appeared in their bedroom.

Their servant and sometimes lover comes racing into the room, carrying a loaded shotgun. Ever since Thomas had met him overseas when he hired the British man as a personal bodyguard, he fell hard and fast for Alfred but he still deeply loved Martha.

He had sent Martha a letter detailing his feelings for his guard, and only after she had given him permission did he pursue the butler. Alfred had insisted on meeting Thomas' wife to prove that she was okay with him having a lover, so he had followed Wayne back home.

Then he simply never left.

Maybe because he was the best butler Wayne ever had, with his regal training and service in her royal highness' army, but she thinks that her own developed feelings for Alfred convince him to remain.

Alfred insisted that he was only a servant and thus could not be added to their marriage besides a bed partner occasionally. Still, Martha hoped one day they could convince him otherwise.

Bruce already saw him as a second father.

He looks at the pair, dressed in their nightwear in a rather enticing position (Thomas had grabbed Martha by her shoulder, to look into her eyes but that left them rather entangled on the bed) with no visible threat, and raises one brow.

Before he can say anything Thomas is all but rolling out of bed in a frantic leap. He tangles up in the blankets, falling gracelessly over the edge in failing limbs "Martha made a deal with Clockwork!"

At once, Alfred's handsome face drains of blood. "Oh dear, Martha darling, you made a grave mistake."

She can only blink at the men in confusion. "Who is Clockwork?"

"He has many names, but I knew him as Merlin," Alfred informed her evenly. He took her hand in his, the tremble in his fingers revealing his unease. " He had shown interest in Master Thomas before and was the one I protected him from. I barely fought him off and only due to outsmarting him. I would not be able to do it again a second time."

What?

"He is also known as a Fae or incubus in some circles. The kind that steals you away for fun." Thomas babbled from where he was pacing next to the bed, eyes franticly glancing about as if the bogggie man was about to leap out at him from the shadows.

For a moment, Martha wondered why her husband, a man of science and medicine who had never been superstitious, believed this Clockwork was some...some creature of myths.

"Martha, love, what did he ask of you?" Alfred questioned, bringing her hand to his lips as though kissing them would confirm she was safe before him.

"He asked for Bruce to marry his son."

"Oh, gods!" Thomas fretted, speeding up, his long strides becoming far more frantic. "Please say you didn't say yes."

"I-thought it was a joke, I didn't see anything wrong with it, I- said yes."

Alfred closed his eyes, looking like a man who had just been informed his death sentence had been signed by the Queen. "Then all we can do now is pray."

Years later, as Alfred is dusting the portrait of his deceased loves. He allowed his hand to trace the cover of Martha's painted smile and Thomas' strong jaw, mind filled with stolen kisses and sweet nothings that were ripped away that fateful night.

He is still struck by their loss. Every now and then, the knowledge of their death creeps in during his most mundane activities. It's like a kick to the chest every time.

Oh, how he misses them.

Ding Dong

The front doorbell jolts him out of his memories so violently it takes the aged Butler a moment or two to get a hold of his senses. He puts down the duster, climbs down the latter, and quickly makes his way to the door.

Stopping to fix his suit coat, he throws it open with a prepared smile. He expects extra help from the catering company Master Bruce hired for Wayne's annual Halloween Gala.

He was not expecting the two men, one looking nervous around Master Bruce's age and the other sly. His age is hard to gauge, but it may be due to time not affecting him as it did mortals.

Alfred's blood freezes at the sight of those cunning red eyes and smirk. "Merlin."

"Alfred Pennyworth." The demon chuckles. "I prefer Clockwork, as you know, but it's good to see you remember me. Most humans are prone to forgetting in their limited age."

"What are you doing here?"

"Why I came to fulfill the deal between Martha Wayne nee Kane and I"

"Martha is dead. Your contact is void."

Clockwork chuckles again, the sound as deadly as poison. "The contact lives as long as all those involved in it live. You know this."

Alfred presses the panic button on his wristwatch, knowing it sends a message to everyone in the manor to evacuate immediately. He will not live through this battle, but hopefully, it will give Master Bruce time to escape. "You will not lay a hand on Master Bruce."

"Come now, Alfred. We are to be in-laws. Our sons are joining in holy matrimony. Why the hostility-"

"Excuse me what?" The other man-demon? Ghost? Higher-being? cuts in, looking at Clockwork with brows knitted into a frown. "What did you mean holy matrimony?"

"Danny, you're getting married," Clockwork says with a cheerful wave.

"The hell I am!" The man barks, flushing red with anger. Alfred can hardly believe he just yelled at the monster. "I am not marrying some random guy!"

"It is the way things must go for the good of mankind-"

"Oh, go suck on a lemon! We both know that whole "this is fate" is bull!"

"You are embarrassing me in front of our new in-laws, younn man" Clockwork actually waves a finger at the fully grown human. "This is my one chance to marry you off to a good man. We both know that you can't attract a mate on your own."

"What!? Yes, I can! I've had girlfriends and boyfriends before!"

"And yet, no spouse! No wedding! Not even a ring!"

"Moby Dick, I knew this bonding fishing trip was a lie! You can't make me get married because of some contact you made when I was three!"

"It's not permanent! Martha Wayne said If that is what they both want, I wouldn't mind their marriage at all. This means you both must want to be together after one year of marriage. See if you like it, and if you don't, I can always find you a new husband."

"This isn't returning a jacket to a store! I can't just see if I like being married Clockwork!" The man hissed running a hand through his hair. "We're going home. I'm so sorry for bothering you today Mr. Alfred."

Alfred blinks at the young man's sheepish smile, wondering if ti's a trick. "No bother at all."

"Danny, if you leave without marriage, Bruce Wayne will die in an hour due to breaking our contract," Clockwork says, crossing his arms. "Honestly, your sisters were far more mature regarding their marriages."

Danny punches him in the face with a glowing hand. The higher being falls like a sack of bricks.

"Right, I'm going to drop this one off at a nursing home, and then I'll return to marry Bruce. Only so the contact doesn't kill him, and I swear I'll only visit every once in a while until our year is up." Throwing- Merlin, holy shit- over his shoulder as if though he weighed nothing, Danny waves at Alfred and scurries away, vanishing into a green portal.

Alfred is left standing at the doorway, utterly flabbergasted. Distantly, he wonders if the hollowing wind is actually Martha laughing herself silly in the afterlife.

Carefully, he reaches up for his com, switching it on to the sound of his family's frantic bickering. They were all worried about him since he sent the alarm and were fighting about following policy or saving him.

"Master Bruce," He says faintly silencing the coms "Please come to have your suit fitted as soon as you can."

"What for?" His son asks, likely looking for a coded message, but Alfred doesn't have the mental capacity to make one.

"Your wedding, sir. It's tonight, courtesy of your mother."

The coms explode into chaos.

[lilacs-stars]

moon + tides

this is part 1, read part 2 here! pairing: james hook x fem!reader (requested) SUMMARY: you, ariel's daughter, find yourself in a strange relationship with the one and only infamous pirate captain, who's absolutely obsessed with you GENRE: yandere, a bit of angst, some comforting fluff here and there, especially at the end CW: a few mentions of violence, someone walking a plank, mentions of drowning, some suggestive material, nothing too graphic though WC: 4.2k

A/N: this req was really fun to write! I might have gotten a bit carried away, heh...this part includes the backstory of how you two got together and the first part of the req, and the second part will include the rest of it. hope you guys enjoy reading this cause I definitely put some hard work into it lol. also please give me feedback and suggestions, I'd really like to know your thoughts!

If you could go back, would you change what happened?

This is something that you often ask yourself. 

You think about that fateful day frequently. It was the summer before your first year at Merlin Academy. You had finally convinced your parents, the famed mermaid Ariel and her Prince Eric, to let you go for a swim unsupervised. Being half-mermaid, half-human allowed you to transform back and forth at will. And although life on land was pretty good, your heart always ached to go back to the sea, to feel the cold, salty water as it engulfs you. To race along the reefs, tail swishing back and forth, allowing you to reach speeds far past what your human form can do. To leisurely swim amongst the many species of fish and plants that created the world of the ocean. To go back home.

Your parents had already gone over the rules with you hundreds of time, to the point where you could recite each one of them word for word: “Don’t go past the boundaries,” “Don’t approach any animals you don’t know,” “Don’t go so deep where you can’t see any light,” “Come out at the first sign of bad weather,” and, most importantly, “Do not, under any circumstances, interact with any humans.”

Your mother may be renowned for rescuing a stranger from the unrelenting grasps of the sea—if she hadn’t, you wouldn’t even be here right now—but that was a very rare case. Far more often than not, mermaid interactions with humans out on the waters ended up in the mermaid being tortured, held hostage, or even killed.

You knew the rules by heart, and yet, maybe it was because of your young age, you still broke them. You weren’t really aware of your actions in the moment; one second, you were swimming alongside a pod of dolphins, racing against the currents. The next, you heard loud voices and realized that almost directly above you, yet still a good few dozen meters away, was some sort of ship.

You had ducked down next to a big sponge, peering up apprehensively. It was at that moment you realized that you were far outside of the boundaries set for you by your parents. You should have turned back, should have swam back home, but there was something about the ship, something that intrigued you so much it forced you to stay in place.

A few moments passed, and seeing as there was no commotion, you let your curiosity get the better of you. After all, that ship shouldn’t even have been out there. Slowly, you crept closer and closer to the surface, making sure to remain in the shadows. The noises were becoming clearer; you could make out people’s voices now. But they still weren’t sharp enough for you to understand what they were saying.

Finally, you took the risk and poked your head out of the water near the rear of the ship. The sight before you elicited a sharp gasp, and made you wish you had just gone back when you still had the chance. 

Extended from the side of the ship was a long, wooden plank. Standing on one side of it (the safe end), was a man, gagged, blindfolded, and bound. He looked to be no older than forty, with a scraggly beard and ripped clothes.

A pirate.

Another figure emerged, walking to the edge of the deck. Your reflexes caused you to duck down quickly, so only your eyes were barely above the water. This figure was much younger, with dark brown hair parted neatly and angular features twisted into a wicked smile. He donned a maroon blazer that covered a white shirt with an upturned collar. Something in his left hand shined brilliantly under the sun’s bright rays.

The younger figure laughed, but not in the way one would laugh at a funny joke. He unsheathed a cutlass from his side, using it to poke the back of the man on the plank. 

“You see, Mr. Jones? This is what happens when you cross the most feared pirate captain in all the lands!” the young figure roared as he yanked off the older man’s blindfold, revealing to him his fate. The fear and panic that spread across the man’s face has been forever etched into your mind, even to this day.

You heard the man beg and plea for mercy, watched as every move he made caused the plank to sway even more violently. The pirate captain simply laughed, his crew along with him. Finally, when you suppose he tired of hearing the man grovel, you watched in terror as the captain gave the man a good kick in the back, finally sending him over the edge.

Suddenly, it was like the world was spinning in slow motion. The man plummeting off the wooden platform, falling, falling, falling. His screams muffled by the cloth around his mouth. Then, all too soon, he made contact with the water with a loud splash. 

He sank quickly, devoured by the ocean’s waters within the blink of an eye. Your young, distraught face watched as a few bubbles rose to the surface. Then nothing. All that remained of the man’s existence, all there was to give proof that he had ever even been there, were a few ripples in the water.

That was it.

You were frozen in shock. How–what–why? Your brain could barely string together a comprehensive sentence. All you were sure of was the feeling inside you. You couldn’t quite put it into words, could barely even understand it. But it made your tail ache to move, made you feel as if you simply couldn’t stay in one place any longer.

You dove beneath the surface, frantically swimming towards the direction where you saw the man go under. You kept looking around, searching, but to no avail. You decided to dive deeper, swimming lower and lower until the water around you was near pitch-black. You were growing more and more panicked by the second, because every second you wasted was another second the man grew closer to death.

Finally, you caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of your eye. Hope flaring, you darted towards it, the figure becoming clearer the closer you got.

It was him.

You reached out and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt to prevent him from sinking farther. His eyes were shut and he wasn’t breathing, but you could still hear a heartbeat. There was still time left.

Wrapping your arms around him, you started the difficult journey back to land. Thankfully, you knew of a small island not too far from here. Swimming with the added weight of a fully grown man was incredibly difficult, especially for a young mermaid, but you persisted. After all, this was his life on the line.

You swam as hard as fast as you could, and thankfully, by some blessing from the heavens, found a warm water current going the direction you were. You let it carry you, the rushing stream multiplying your efforts. Finally, after what seemed like hours but must have only been a couple of minutes, you reached the island.

Letting the wave wash you up on shore, you settled the man down on the soft sand the first chance you got. You rolled him to his front, which was quite the endeavor itself. His heartbeat had grown more shallow, but it was still there. There was still hope.

Using the skills your mother had taught you, you started to nurse the man back to health using your melodic voice. Ever since you were young, she had explained to you the gift bestowed upon mermaids, the power of healing through song. She taught you to sing before you could walk, and it was the one thing that you were sure you could do right.

As you sang your strange and melodious tune, it finally occurred to you that you were breaking the most sacred of rules. Not only were you interacting with a stranger, you were coaxing him back to life. Like mother, like daughter, you thought. I suppose healing strangers who were drowning at sea runs in my blood.

The only caveat to your healing powers is that it takes quite some time to have its full effects. You don’t know how long you sat on the beach, but it had been quite some time. You probably would have been there for much longer had it not been for the boom voice that sounded behind you, waking you from your trance of song.

“Well, I’ll be. If it isn’t a mermaid.”

You practically jumped out of your fins as you turned around, startled beyond words. There, towering above you, was the evil pirate captain you saw earlier. He was even younger than you had previously thought. In fact, he couldn’t be much older than you. You wondered for a fleeting moment how a kid like that could command an entire ship full of grown—and scary-looking—men, but decided you have bigger matters at hand to worry about.

A few members of his crew lurked behind the captain, and you could see a small lifeboat docked to the ground near the coastline. Further beyond that, his ship swayed in the ocean waves, dark against the bright horizon.

You followed the pirate’s gaze down to your tail, which was still out. You silently cursed yourself for forgetting to transform back into your human form, being too distracted by saving the man to pay attention to your own safety.

You wanted to yell at the cruel pirate for trying to kill this man. No matter who he was, what he had done, he didn’t deserve to die. At least not like that. But the words got caught in your throat, so while a war raged inside your mind, you were completely quiet on the outside, simply staring up at the man with wide doe eyes.

“You have a lovely voice,” the man said, with a tone that you wouldn’t quite imagine a killer using. He must have overheard me sing earlier, you thought to yourself. “Tell me, little mermaid, who taught you to sing?”

“M-my mother,” you replied weakly, your voice far more meager and small than you wanted it to be. You were still staring up at him, afraid of what he’d do to you.

“Your mother? Well, that’s quite interesting.” The captain raised his left hand to scratch at his chin, which is when you realized that it wasn’t a hand at all. Instead of a hand was a curved metal hook, with a sharp point gleaming at the end. So that must be the shiny thing I saw earlier, you thought.

“Oh, where are my manners?” laughed the pirate abruptly. “My name is Captain James Hook, leader of the Jolly Roger. And you are?”

You blinked, almost forgetting your own name. If it were a less tense moment than this, you would have laughed at the fact that his name is rather befitting for him. “Y/N,” you respond.

“Y/N…Now, where have I heard that name before?��� He tapped his chin with his hook again.

“Sir, that’s the name of Princess Ariel’s daughter,” one of the big, meaty pirates behind him answered in a gruff voice.

“That’s right!” Hook exclaimed. “You’re the mermaid’s daughter. You know, rumor has it you’ll be joining me at Merlin’s Academy in the fall, is that right?”

For some reason, your voice seemed to not work anymore, so you settled for nodding. Join him? you pondered. You didn’t know that he was also a student at the school you were planning to attend.

Hook started pacing along the beach, arms crossed with his hooked hand extended, deep in thought. You watched him, fear growing by the second. A sly smirk spread across his face, which only served to fuel the flames of your worry. 

“You know, you directly defied my command by saving that man,” he started. Slowly. Deliberately. Choosing every word precisely and carefully, like a shark circling its prey. “Do you even know why I made him walk the plank?” You shook your head no, the panic in you reaching record heights.

“That man”—he vaguely gestures towards the unconscious body laying on the beach with his hook—“stole an entire week’s worth of rations from my ship. An entire week’s worth of food and rum for an entire crew. Had he gotten away with it, we likely would have starved to death out at sea. Does he seem so innocent now, little mermaid? So worth saving?”

Again, you shook your head no. Although you agreed he definitely wasn’t an innocent man, you still didn’t see making him walk the plank a justifiable punishment. Despite your thoughts, you kept your mouth shut. Angering the captain further was not going to do you any good.

“Now, if anyone else had done something like this, I wouldn’t hesitate to cut their head right off,” Hook said menacingly, and with a swish, unsheathed his sword once again. You flinched—hard—and scrambled to back away from him. 

Hook took note of this, and, sheathing his sword, crouched down to get on the same level as you. “But don’t worry, little mermaid. I won’t hurt you. You see, you’ve piqued my interest. Plus, it would do me no favors to have a little girl’s blood on my hands.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t even realized you were holding. So he’s not going to kill me, right?

“But, alas, you can’t leave unpunished, now, can you?” he added. Your eyes grew impossibly wider, your entire body shaking in fear. This was it. He was going to kill you, or do something equally worse.

“I demand”—you already felt a tear slip down your cheek—“that you write to me for the remainder of the summer.”

Wait, what?

“W-write?” you asked in disbelief. “As in…”

“Letters,” Hook finished for you. “Write me letters. I’ll give you the mailing address of the Jolly Roger. Write me everyday, and I’ll promise I’ll write you back whenever we dock. How does that sound?”

“O-okay,” you reply, still taken aback by the peculiar, and far more lenient than you’d expected, request. That was all you had to do? Write letters? As punishment for saving the life of someone he’d ordered to die? You must be dreaming.

“Oh, and,” Hook said, voice lowered as he leaned in close to you, until he was just a hair’s breadth away from your ear. You could feel his warm breath on your skin, his alluring scent of salty winds and something richer, deeper, filling your lungs. “I look forward to seeing you in the fall. Don’t forget me, my little mermaid.”

With that, he stood up, smoothing out the lines on his pants. “You wouldn’t happen to need a ride back home, would you, love?”

You shook your head no, too terrified of him changing his mind to spend another moment in his presence. You glanced back at the man lying behind you, still unconscious. “W-what about him? What will you do with him?” you managed to choke out, somehow finding your voice again.

Hook pondered this for a long minute, before finally answering, “He can live.” You let out a shaky breath. “But only because of you, little mermaid. And only this time. You go against my wishes again, and trust me, your punishment will be far more severe.”

And with that, he went back to his ship and sailed away.

You still muse about that day, thinking how different things would have been if you had changed just one little thing.

You kept your promise of writing him letters, too afraid to know what would happen when you had to inevitably face him in the fall to break it. At first, they started out simple. Ordinary recounts of your day, your favorite things, what you liked to do. As the weeks passed, you started writing more personal letters. How you felt about certain things or certain people, including your parents. You never spoke a word of that fateful day to them, knowing that you’d be grounded for life and forbidden from swimming ever again if they caught even a whiff of the danger you had put yourself in. 

Hook kept his promise, too. He wrote you back, although it was far less frequent than your letters. Even though he kept his responses short and concise, you always ended up hearing his voice in your head as you read his notes. You soon found yourself checking your mailbox daily, even getting to know the mailman rather well. The rush of dopamine you got every time you opened it to find a letter awaiting you was unmatched; you would always run upstairs to your room, lock the door, and pour over the note. Reading every line, every word over and over again, committing them to memory. 

You don’t know why you enjoyed these little letters so much. Maybe it was the thrill of having a secret that no one else knew of, or the absence of your usual loneliness every time you were reminded that somewhere out there, across the seas, was someone awaiting your letters, reading them, and writing back to you. Whatever it was, your heart started to form an emotional attachment to him without you even realizing it. 

Unbeknownst to you, that had been his exact plan all along.

It’s safe to say that once you started school at Merlin Academy, Hook’s—or James’s, as he insisted on you calling him—grip on you only grew. Things started out pretty normal: light conversations in class and stolen looks exchanged across the hall, mostly initiated by him. After the first few weeks passed, things between you two only grew. Secret meetings during lunch hours, rendezvous after school, and small gifts exchanged between the two of you. From there, it became brushing your hands together whenever you passed by each other, soft pecks on the cheek or forehead where there were prying eyes, and more passionate kisses when the two of you finally found time to be alone.

Truth be told, you don’t really know what you two are now. Normally, you would consider two people that partake in such actions to be courting, and you kind of assume you are. But James has never said anything about a relationship to you, and in all honesty, you’re too afraid to ask him. You feel terribly confused at his intentions towards you; on the one hand, he approaches you every day without fail, even if you try to ignore him or when your schedules don’t match up. Somehow, he always finds a way. On the other hand, he never asked you to be his lover, never even vaguely mentioned anything of the sorts. So, you decided, with a heavy heart, to not be too confident and consider yourself his partner. And unfortunately, that meant that he wasn’t yours, either.

Really, you never meant to grow so involved with the bastard pirate that threatened to kill you on the beach that day. But for some strange reason, instead of treating you coldly like he did everyone else, especially the other hero kids, he was softer with you. Considerate, even. You had half-expected him to want nothing to do with you after your first few interactions, but he kept seeking you out. You often opened your locker to a note inside, or entered your dorm to find a letter slipped beneath the door.

Today was one of those days. You had gotten a note telling you to wait for him in your usual place in the evening, after classes. So here you are, waiting, staring at the water fountain in the courtyard. You’ve always been transfixed by the way the water spurts out the center and splashes all around. It seems that whenever you’re alone with your thoughts, they always end up back to that fateful day you met James, and everything that’s happened since.

“Wait for me long, my little mermaid?” a deep voice whispers in your ear from behind. You jump only a little, far more used to James sneaking up on you now than you used to be. For some reason, it seems he loves to startle you by wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you in close from behind, or speaking softly in your ear.

You twirl around, a delighted expression on your face, although you try to mask it with a feigned annoyance. “And if I say I did?”

“Well then, I’d have to find a way to make it up to you then, wouldn’t I, darling?” he purrs, using his hook to spin you around in his arms so you’re face-to-face. His lips make his way to yours, pulling you in for a slow, sensual kiss. You wrap your arms around his neck, bringing his head closer to yours, not able to get enough of his touch. 

The feeling of his skin against yours ignites something in you, and you find your mouth opening to give him more access as a soft whimper escapes your lips. One hand reaches into his hair, tugging at it gently from the base of his head, while the other one trails down the front of his shirt.

James leans into you even further, your bodies flush against each other now, as he deepens the kiss. You find yourself leaning against the edge of the water fountain, the cool sprinkles providing a welcomed contrast to your heating-up bodies.

Once you’ve completely lost your breath, you pull away just slightly, a love-drunk smile on your face. “You had a request for me?” you whisper, panting, eyes full of adoration for the man you were interlocked with. 

James breaks into a grin. A genuine one, not one of the smirks he flashes to uphold his patented suave demeanor. “Ah, yes, how could I forget, my love?”

He pulls further away to give you two enough room to breathe, yet keeping his good hand on the small of your back. “I was reminded today that it's been quite some time since I’ve heard your voice, my little mermaid.”

You give a little smile, deciding to mess with him a bit. “Whatever do you mean? You hear my voice every day. I mean, you’re even hearing it right now.”

James cocks his head to the side and raises a single eyebrow, clearly aware of your antics. “Your other voice, love.”

You giggle. “Fine, all right. Only for you,” you say, giving him a peck on the nose. 

You sit down on the ledge of the fountain, turning back to stare at the water again. Although it has been a long time since you stretched your tail and went for a swim, simply seeing the rushing water soothes you. It isn’t quite like being immersed in it, but it still gives you some semblance of comfort. 

You reach into the pool at the bottom, letting the cool water rush along your fingertips as you inhale a deep breath. Through your mermaid abilities, your voice twists into an otherworldly song, filling the space with a mellifluous sound. 

James takes a place on the ledge next to you, reaching into the water to hold your submerged hand. You don’t really feel it, too transfixed on the rushing waves. You don’t see the way James gazes at you, like you’re his entire world. The softness, the tenderness in his eyes, which he reserves for you only. He looks at you not as if you’re his sun, something too bright to ever stare directly at, something violent and explosive and harmful, but as if you’re his moon. 

As if you’re the figure he watches every night before he closes his eyes, and the one he wishes to see again when he wakes up. As if you’re the only thing he notices every time the darkness envelops him, your presence never falling off the pedestal he places it on in his mind. Never losing its worth. He looks at you, your soft glow and mesmerizing shimmer, as if you’re the only thing filling up the night sky. The stars and constellations pale in comparison to you, especially on your best nights, when you shine so magnificently. 

You are the moon, and he is the tide of the ocean, constantly being pulled in by you. Never being able to escape the grasp you have on him, the grasp you are so blissfully unaware of. He stares at you in awe and wonder, bathing in your gorgeous light, so close yet always so far away. Sitting all alone against the dark backdrop of the evening sky, waiting for him to come back to you. And without reason, you always disappear. Always leaving him wanting more, waiting till the moment he can bathe in your presence again. 

As you sing, the tide gets pulled in by the gravity of the moon. Your lyrical voice bounces off the stone walls, surrounding you both, just as the moonlight surrounds the waves on that mystical night. 

But the moonlight is only a reflection of the sun’s glow, is it not? When daylight comes, the moon will pull away from the waves, its absence in the sky all but forgotten in the sun’s presence. And as dawn breaks, so too will the pull between the moon and ocean. 

on to part 2! ->

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do not plagiarize, translate, remake, or copy my works, including my writing and images, in any way.

[holylulusworld]

Dinner for four (4)

Summary: You, your husband, and little Bucky eat together to celebrate something special.

Pairing: AU!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: fluff, pregnant reader, daddy Bucky

Catch up here: Dinner for three

Dinner for … masterlist

“Daddy, tell me again how you met Mommy,” your son tugs at his father’s sleeve. “DADDY! DADDY!” James Buchanan Jr. is a little whirlwind. The spit-image of you and Bucky. Of course, the little boy got his father’s cocky attitude and smirk.

“Bucky Jr., don’t annoy your daddy. He just came home and invited us for dinner. Isn’t he a great daddy?” You tut and run your hand over your son’s head. He excitedly jumps up and down and grins at his father. 

“Daddy? Can I have ice cream too?” Your son pouts and sniffles. “Please, daddy.”

“You’ll ask your mommy,” Bucky crouches down to ruffle his son’s hair. “She’s the boss, you know.”

“Mommy is the boss,” your son nods and turns around to give you an even cuter pout. “Mommy, can I have ice cream?”

“If you are a good boy and eat your dinner first, you’ll get ice cream,” you peck his hair. “Daddy can have some too.”

“What about you and little sis?” Your son turns around to place his tiny hands on your grown belly. He gasps and looks up at you like you are a wonder. “Baby sister kicked my hands.”

“She knows you are her big brother and wants your attention.” You smile at your son. He’s eager to meet his little sister and loves to rub your belly whenever he gets the chance to do so.

“YEAH!” He gasps and covers his mouth with his tiny hands. “I’m going to be the best big brother.”

“We know you’ll be the best big brother,” Bucky softly speaks to your son. “I’m proud of you, son.”

“Your table is ready,” you smile at the hostess. “I assume you’ll take the usual.”

Bucky picks your son up to carry him toward the table. He helps him to sit next to you before pulling the chair for you. “You look beautiful tonight, doll,” Bucky whispers in your ear. He kisses your cheek and runs his hand over your belly. 

“You don’t look too bad yourself, Mr. Barnes,” you watch Bucky sit on the table. He looks at the only empty seat next to him, already imagining watching his daughter enjoy the food at your favorite restaurant.

“I’m wearing my best suit for you, Mrs. Barnes,” he winks at you and smirks. “If you play your cards right tonight, I’ll give you belly rubs and a nice foot massage.”

“If you play your cards right, I’ll allow you to do more than rub my belly,” you snicker when his cheeks turn pink. “After he put little Bucky to sleep, of course.”

“Mommy, can I rub your belly too?” Your son hopefully looks at your belly. “I bet I can make her kick me again!”

“Later, bud,” Bucky says. “We will eat first, okay. Your mommy and sister are hungry. We need to take good care of mommy. She’s having your sister. Remember?”

Your son nods eagerly. He clasps his hands together, forming a plan to help you cook tomorrow. You’re eight months pregnant and are thankful for any help.

“What do you want to eat, Bucky Jr.?” You run your hand over your son’s head. “You can order anything you want. Daddy pays.”

“Daddy pays,” your son grins. “For my ice cream too!”

“He’s his mother’s son,” Bucky fake-sighs. He knows that your son holds your heart, just like Bucky.

“No, he’s his father’s son,” you shoot back. “Like father, like son.”

Bucky grins from ear to ear. He loves hearing that his son is as cocky and lovable as he is. “You can never have enough Bucky in this world.”

“I second that,” you wink at your husband. “Who else would’ve invited a lonely woman and her teddy bear to eat with him? Only a hero in an expensive suit.”

“Daddy, do you love mommy?” Your son suddenly asks. He looks a little emotional, and you immediately worry about him.

“Baby boy, I love your mommy so much I’d do anything for her,” Bucky is quick to reply. “Why do you ask, bud?”

“My friend said that his daddy doesn’t love his mommy anymore,” your son sniffles now. “That made me sad. I don’t want you to leave Mommy.”

“I’d never leave your mommy,” your husband gets up to crouch down next to your son. “See, your mommy is having your baby sister because I love her so much. And I love you too, bud.”

“Okay,” your son nods. “I love Mommy too, and you.”

Bucky wraps his arms around your son and pats his back. “I love you too, bud. So, so much. You’re my baby boy.”

You sniffle and try to hold back the tears. Watching your husband and son together makes your heart swell. “Imagine, soon we are having dinner for four, Bucky.”

“I can hardly wait…”

Part 5

[theblueflower05]

Crawling Back to You

(Part Two of First Love/Late Spring)

A/N: So like, I’m really excited that you guys seem to be digging this story. I was hesitant about it just because there’s so much of my own Na’vi/Metkayina lore thrown in there. Thank you for all of the kind response.

Word Count: 8k+

Warnings: From here on out, this story will be extremely explicit. Minors DNI. If Aged Up! Neteyam isn’t your thing, please exit to your left. Let’s all respect each other's boundaries, please.

Angst. Self deprecation. Alcohol consumption. Smut. Mutual masturbation. Fingering(fem receiving). Nipple sucking. Breeding kink. Scent marking. Public sex(if you squinttttt)

Summary: Neteyam returns from his Motnaui and isn’t in much of a celebratory mood when he realizes that he’s scrapped any chance of having a mate for Fertility season…or has he? Neteyam x Reader

Series Masterlist(all parts can be found here)

Previous< First Love/Late Spring

Next>: Bottom of the Deep Blue Sea

Secret's that I’ve held in my heart

Are harder to hide then I thought.

Maybe I just wanna be yours- Artic Monkeys

The brilliant Pandoran sun beats down on the crystal blue waters, fragmenting into bursts of light under the surface of the waves.

The Motnaui is intense, Neteyam’s lean frame isn't made for the open ocean but over the months as he trained intensely with the Metkayina hunters, he gained muscle he didn't even realize his body could retain.

His shoulders are broader and thighs thicker. He can keep up with the clan, he can help row the boats without his arms giving out on him.

Neteyam hasn't felt this way since they had fled the safety of the forest. He’s useful again. He’s worked hard to regain his title of Hunter.

Warrior.

Brother of the people.

He sense’s it as they jump between the endless maze of isles. Hunting and sleeping on the beaches under the open night sky. Swapping stories around the small campfires.

They don't see him as an outsider anymore. No, he is Metkayina. All of the hunters treat him as such. Clapping his back. Embracing him tight. Sharing in the whopping joy as he makes a clean, merciful kill.

They listen to the Omaticayan legends he tells the and fill him in on the lore of the sea.

The four days out at open ocean are needed and he feels sure footed now. Knows that he will always have a place in Awa’atlu. He can't wait for Lo’ak to complete his Iknamaya next cycle, to get to feel this feeling of deep belonging. Of acceptance.

The tattoo forever etched into the the skin on his on his shoulder burns. Throbs all the way down his elbow, ends right above his wrist. The permanent swirling ink a symbol of his place among the reef.

His third birth is as beautiful as his second. He is a man, twice recognized.

Neteyam reminds himself of that fact as he sits down next to Tonowari one night. The stars are sparkling and the dimming light of the dying fire makes the hulking chief look larger than life.

Still, the younger man gathers his courage.

“I wish to mate with Y/N” Neteyam states firmly. He had been Olo’eyktan in training for over a decade back in the forest. He uses the voice he’d take on when speaking of important matters “I would like your blessing to do so, sir”

Their brothers and sisters in the hunt surround them. Either asleep at the late hour or lost to their own conversations.

Or maybe they just know not to interrupt this important exchange. They only listen in with peaked ears and envious hearts.

Tonowari’s features go stern, his strong brows pulling together “Before my T’smuke returned to the great mother, I promised her that I would always take care of her daughter as though she was my own. I love Y/N as I do my children. Do you understand that, Neteyam?”

Neteyam is nodding “Yes sir, of course”

“She is a good woman. A very important member of our community, if I allow this courtship I have to be certain that you will honor that. That you will honor her place among us, and be serious about what that means for your own”

Neteyam mules over the words, thinks he knows what they mean. He will be marrying into the royal family of the Metkayina. He will be bound by blood to the clans chief. His future children will have a claim to the title of Olo’eyktan or Tshaik, third in line should anything ever happen.

“I am very serious about her, I will work hard to give her all that she deserves. I will build us a Mauri to raise our family in. I will dedicate my life to her and the tribe” It is not a vow lightly made, Neteyam knows this.

He had never been one to be fickle about responsibility.

It’s only when the intense expression on the Olo’eyktans face shifts, a broad smile stretching across his mouth, that Neteyam feels his posture untense.

Tonowari claps him hard on the back and offers him the leather flask of strong liquor that the hunters pass amongst themselves-

“Then you have my blessing” Tonowari laughs as the younger Na’vi man almost chokes on the burn of the Kava.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

When they return to the main island of Awa’atlu with their abundant catch they are greeted warmly by the clan. The giant horns are blown, drums play rhythmically. Children scream joyously and women dance scantly clad in ceremonial drab.

Its busy and blustering but there's only one thing on Neteyam's mind.

Only one person.

The same woman who had plagued him since his arrival all those months ago. You’re as elusive as the receding tide and he had become accustomed to having to look for you. To having to seek you out in a crowd, to go searching for you.

You hadn't seen him off and he hasn't spoken to you in many days. He misses you. It's an ache that he wants to soon remedy, that he knows he’ll never have to feel again. Not with Tonowari’s blessing fueling him.

Since he was young, Neteyam had wanted to be bonded.

He’d dreamt of sharing that special connection with another individual; the way that his parents did. He craved someone to cherish him, to take care of him and in return he’d do the same for them. He itched for a woman to braid his hair, to bear his children. To bury his cock in every night and wake up to every morning.

He was a simple man with a big heart and a lot of love to give. And he wanted to give it to you.

He just has to find you first.

Neteyam tries not to worry when he can't catch sight of your petite frame. Not one peek of your long hair or seafoam eyes. He couldn't scent the natural perfume of florally herbs that always seemed to surround you-

“Neteyam!” It’s Tuk.

She collides with him hard. Many years of being a climbing post for his siblings is the only reason he doesn't topple over. Is able to catch her mid air and hold her to his chest.

He’s greeted by his family-

And only a moment passes before he can notice that something is wrong.

It’s written all over Kiri’s face. In his mothers expressive eyes and the glances his father throws him as he embraces the Olo’eyktan from across the way. Even Lo’ak gives him something akin to a small glare.

“Whatever is going on, it will have to wait” Neteyam decides out loud, slowly lowering his baby sister to the ground. “I need to find Y/N, have any of you seen her?”

Kiri’s mouth opens and shuts, as though she’s trying to figure out what to say and it frays his nerves. His legs are antsy, burning with the need to run. To seek you out- still on the high of the hunt.

“I don't have time for this-”

“Brother, wait. It is about Y/N” Kiri grabs his elbow, keeping him still.

He doesn't like her tone.

Likes the expression on her face even less. She looks too serious, it doesn't suit her at all. Kiri had always been as airy as a tree sprite- carefree and bubbly.

Call it a gut feeling or the simple ability to read the room. He just knows whatever she’s about to tell him isnt going to be pleasant.

“What happened?”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

His sister pulls him aside, into the mangrove tree’s and away from prying eyes and ears so that she can relay what she’d heard. Fill Neteyam in on what he’s missed.

He listens to every word…and they settle like stones in his stomach.

“Y/N thinks that you have accepted an offer of courtship from another woman”

“I didn't- I’d never!” Neteyam hisses in protest, shaking his head. It’s all one big misunderstanding. He has to make find you, shake these thoughts out of your head. Make you see-

“But you did,” Kiri replies firmly, her mouth pulled into a grim line.

She explains the meaning of the Lei’s.

The gravity of him accepting one from another female and Neteyam hasn't felt so small in many years. He’d been forced into adulthood early. Taken care of his siblings from a young age and then was thrust into the war with the RDA before he had even fully come out of adolescence. He was wise beyond his years, that’s what everyone had always told him.

He doesn’t feel that way now.

He’d fucked up, made a mistake that could very well cost him the future that he had worked so hard to secure since coming to the reefs-

And he hadn't even meant to! He’d been as naive as a baby, as ignorant to Metkayina traditions as an untrained child-

He wants to scream in frustration. Wants to kick the absolute shit out of himself. Instead he listens to his sister, his hands shaking as he balls them into fists.

You had been devastated. Heart broken. Wouldn't talk to anyone or come out to eat. Couldn’t stop crying-

“Enough” He pleads, he can't hear anymore of it. Guilt rises in his chest like bile.

Imagining what the last days had been like for you as he’d spend them having the time of his life, galivanting with other hunters. Getting drunk and having carefree fun-

“Kiri, what do I do?”

She sighs. It’s so rare to see her older brother like this. He’s always so solid. So strong and stable. It’s unnerving when he loses his composure. When his carefully built walls come down

She had known that the whole thing was a miscommunication and had tried along with Tsireya to convince you of that fact. But you wouldn't hear it, and avoided her at every turn.

You and her brother are both such stubborn dumb asses. Rubbing at her temples Kiri prays to Eywa for strength. Sully’s stick together.

“We fix this”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

As the evening eclipse starts and the sun disappears in the sherbert sky the beach lights up.

Bonfires roar, their flames tall and burning bright.

The air is filled with the smell of roasting Paokpak(island boar) and fish. Huge pots full of dishes that Neteyam had never seen line the long wooden table set up at the center of the celebration. Barrels of Kava have been brought out. The strongest of Metkayina liquors, brewed and stored for decades in airtight containers. Made from berries that are extremely hard to harvest.

This is a time for celebration, to gorge on the hard earned harvests the hunters have brought back. To celebrate the newly rited adults and prepare for the Fertility Season.

The beat of the drums is hypnotic. It's sexy and primal. It's a tune that all Na’vi know in their chest, one that their hips move to as if of their own accord.

Children play, Women sing, stories older then the briny deep are told. The air is electric; so full of magic and unity.

And yet, Neteyam is on edge.

He had been since his rude awakening earlier in the day. He’d spent his afternoon running around like an Austrapede with its head chopped off. Desperately trying to solve the issues that he hadn't meant to create.

After hunting down the culprit to all of this mess, a pretty lei made up of sunset orange lilies which he’d given to Tuk almost automatically after it’d been given to him, he returns it to its owner.

Seychelle is haughty. Rightly upset and shrilly confused as she takes the token of her affections back. Neteyam’s apology is poor and he knows it, he backs away before she can throw her drink in his face.

Tsireya had told him this was the only way to remedy the issue- to refuse the offer for courtship so that he could be open to be with another. The younger girl had been so relieved when he came to her, begging her to help him win back your affections.

“I knew you are a good man, that you don't have a mean spirit”

Tsireya is as eager as Neteyam to see her cousin happy. She doesn't think she could spend another night listening to your inconsolable weeping.

The last obstacle is the hardest.

You refuse to be anywhere near him. Are forced into the festivities because of your family standing, but pretend that Neteyam simply does not exist.

At every turn you evade him.

Sandwiching yourself between the hulking muscle of Ao’nung and Tonowari at the buffet table. Dancing in an enclosed circle of swaying women. Flitting away in a plume of smoke when he approaches you with your favorite ripe fruit in hand; leaving him standing there stupidly. Palms stained by the juice of the Lionberry as he squeezes it in frustration.

You’re hauntingly beautiful in the firelight.

He hates the fact that he’s not the only who notices it. The way the other males consume you with their carnivorous gazes makes him sick. His fingers clench and his knuckles crack of their own accord.

Long dark hair pours down your back in bouncing waves. The top that you wear clings to you like a second skin; the pearls and seashells glittering in the warm hue of the flames. Your own Lei, pink and pristine, is still resting on your throat. Many intricate bracelets and anklets clink as you walk and he cant take his eyes off of the way that the back of your tweng sits on your pert ass-

“Go talk to her” His dad suggests gruffly as he watches his son watch you. It’s getting hard to stomach at this point, all of that longing palpable and souring the atmosphere.

“She doesn't want to speak to me” Neteyam mutters. Trying not to feel too bad for himself. And failing.

Neteyam hadn't thought his return from Motonui would be like this. He’d envisioned a lot more kissing, and alot less moping.

“Woman aren't as complicated as they seem, son. You don't need some grand gesture-”

“Says the man who tamed Toruk after his first fight with his mate” Neteyam interrupts and Jake snorts at his unusual outburst.

His eldest son is usually so very put together- it's entertaining to see that a woman could bring out this side of him.

“I have nothing to offer her. Back home in the forest I could have given her- everything” Neteyam sighs as he admits what's been on his mind since he’d begun pursuing you “There’s no reason why she’d want to be with me, I’m aware of that”

Jake pulls his son close.

His first born. The apple of his eye. Neteyam was good to his core, and anyone who knew him could see it. Jake was so proud of him and wondered if this lack of self confidence came from the fact that he probably didn’t tell the boy of that fact enough.

“All that girl wants from you is reassurance. That’s all you need to give her, everything else will come with time. If she wanted to mate for status she would’ve done it long before you got here, kid. ”

Jake had been shitty at motivational speeches since his stint in the military. You would think his time as reigning Olo’eyktan would have given him some kind of skills. But still, his words are a bit clunky. But sincere.

After a moment, Neteyam gulps at the Kava in his hand. Drains his cup and then squares his shoulders before he’s off.

Eyes set unyieldingly on the prize.

Jake grins. If a good ol’ pep talk doesn't do it- liquid courage sure will.

You’re half heartedly participating in the conversations going on around you, just distracted enough that Neteyam’s able to stalk over. Unnoticed until he’s standing right infront of you-

“Y/N” His voice is firm, he wonders if you know how hard it is for him to keep it as such. “I see you”

Up close he can see how swollen your eyes are. How exhausted you look. You just nod, muttering out a quiet “I see you” in response.

Everything about your body language screams that you want to be left alone. Your arms are crossed over your chest, your ears tipped low. Your tail curls around your ankle and your nose keeps scrunching up.

He wishes he could let you be,

But you make him selfish. You bring out a side of him that wants to take. Has to be satiated or he’s going to lose his fucking mind.

“I must speak with you” He states his intentions, clear. Ignores the way Ronal glares daggers at the side of his head.

“I don’t think-”

“It will only take a moment. But I ask for the privacy to explain myself to you. If after you hear my words you still do not wish to talk to me I will respect that”

You glance at your family before responding to him. Sharing a look with both Ronal and Tsireya. Your cousin smiles encouragingly, your aunt gives a barley tolerant tilt of her head.

You sigh and nod, but step away from his hand when he offers it to you. It's an obvious rejection, but Neteyam tries not to dwell on it. His tail flicks anxiously behind him.

“We may speak in private. Come” your voice is low, before you begin to lead him away from the festivities. Down the beach until the firelight is in the distance and the beat of the drum is a low hum on the howling wind.

The storms will start soon. The sea is choppy, the clouds rolling in and the breeze cool.

It’s hard to find privacy on the sandy shores, intertwined couples can be found scattered along the waters edge. Lips locked. Speaking lowly and intimately.

Neteyam is pretty sure that one of his fellow hunters has his mate twisted into a mating press- if her breathless whimpers are anything to go by.

He avoids their writhing bodies, ignores the way it makes his own core tingle.

Fertility Season is all but here. The entire clan falling under its low boiling energy.

All he could think about as he had been out on the open ocean; is that this cycle he wouldn't have to spend it alone.

He’s not sure that is the case anymore.

After more walking, completely in silence, the two of you come to a mostly desolate area. Quiet and still, as private as it’s going to get.

You stare out at the cresting waves and Neteyam knows he needs to say something, anything. But all he can to is look at you.

At the way that the moonlight illuminates your silhouette, at the dusting of turquoise bioluminescent freckles that are scattered across your nose.

“I-Um-” You start, and that wont do. He cuts you off quick.

It is only him who needs to explain himself. “Let me start by apologizing to you. I am so sorry, Y/N”

You appear as though you’re going to start crying and if you do, he’ll lose all his carefully cultivated cool.

So he presses on.

“I had no idea that accepting Lei’s was a courting symbol here. I don't know how to make you believe me but if I had know I would’ve never-” Neteyam lets out a long shaky breath “I can only swear to you that in the future I will be more mindful of your clans traditions”

Time ticks by. The moon shines and the waves crash against the shore.

“Our clan” you break the silence, your voice gentle and melodic. “You passed your Iknimaya. It is your clan as much as mine”

He wants so desperately to hold you. He has for months, but the need is almost unbearable at this very moment.

“If I have lost my chance. Please, tell me now” it’s a plea. Because it hurts to look at you. If he can not have you- if you do not want him, he will accept it. Somehow. But being alone with you like this and not knowing is killing him. “I will…I’ll leave you alone, if you want me to”

You scoff, not looking away from him. Refusing to meet his eye, still staring blanky at the waves. “You act as though I am the one who accepted someone else’s offer. I have never wanted you to leave me alone, Neteyam”

“I’m sorry” Does he sound as idiotic as he feels? He surely hopes not.

“You already said that”

“Please, look at me”

“I can’t” you whisper- hissing at him warningly when he outstretches his hands “I- I don't want to ever feel like this again. You need to tell me what you want from me because I do not know. I will get confused again, if you do not tell me what we are doing”

He can tell by your expression that you are serious, and even so. He cant fucking believe it. Had he failed at courtship so immensely that you really don't know? He’s stuck in his head for a moment too long.

It makes you anxious, makes you back even further away.

“Please-” He’s all but begging, yet

you avoid his touch again and it feels like blades.

Your shrill warning hiss rings in his ears.

He returns it with a snarl of his own when you continue to refuse to let him touch you. Can't help it, the need to rebuff all of this uncertainty around the union that is so special to him is strong.

He grips the top of your arms, his long fingers holding your biceps.

You finally look at him. Your round eyes wide and vulnerable. Filled with unshed tears and unspoken questions.

“I want to mate with you” He starts because if you need to hear it all, word for word, then he’d tell you. “I want to build my life here with you by my side. I want us to have a home that will never know war-”

A tear rolls down the swell of your cheek.

“I-I want you to choose to be with me” He swallows, the lump in his throat getting bigger, higher. Threatening to choke his vocal cords “I will be good to you. If you let me”

His family had always required him to be the rock. Had leaned on him to take on the role of caretaker, he had had to keep it together. Keep them together. It wasn't easy for him to break open like this. It went against his very nature, all that self preservation he’d learned early.

But you need this. And he thinks he might too.

“Neteyam-”

“I will ask you again. If I have lost my chance tell me now”

Have mercy on him.

“I understand if you want to be with someone who can offer you more. I won’t fault you for it” he doesn’t know why he feels the need to tack that on. Why the self deprecating thoughts manifest their way into words that hurt for him to speak “I don’t have much here. But I’ll build it, for you”

Your muscles tense under his palms and he prepares himself for the rejection. The physical blow of it-

But then, you melt. Loosen. Your entire body sags fully into his grip. That pinched expression on your face slips away. Your full lips part and your eyes soften, brows furrowing together.

You look at him like he is something precious. Like you can see him- and he thinks you might be the first one who ever has.

He’d known it in his bones. Since the day he’d arrived. Since he’d first spotted your face in the crowd.

“Oel ngati kameie” you whisper, your hand coming up to cup his jaw. “Oel ngati kamei, Neteyam. I see-”

He leans heavily into your hand. His forehead clunking against yours, pressing hard. The contact stings, but its welcome. He needs it.

He needs.

“I don’t care about any of that. I don’t care what you have or don’t have. You know I don’t.” you murmur urgently, he can feel the words against against his skin.

When you press a whisper light, tentative kiss against the sharp of his cheekbone, something snaps. Something that had been strained and barely held together just breaks.

His control, he realizes as he crowds you.

As his fingers dig into your arms and he presses the line of his body against your own firmly.

You’re so soft everywhere. So much smaller than him. He’s all lean muscle, tall and hard. You’re pliable skin, a layer of blubber to keep you warm in the deep. So different from the women he’d grown up with. Your hips are wide, thighs pillowy.

You’d give him healthy children. His hindbrain howls.

When he captures your lips he hopes you realize that there’s no going back. That this is until death. He’d go to his grave before he was robbed of this again.

You gasp, sweet and small, and he eats it. Consumes all of the air in your lungs. You’re good at holding your breath anyway, right?

“Neteyam” you whine, pulling away, your lips wet and your pupils wide. You’re shaky, already a bit disoriented and he wants to keep you. Protect you. He’ll give you anything if you just keep looking at him like that.

“Are you ok-”

You reach up on the tips of your toes, slamming your lips back against his before he can finish his words.

Your hands tangle into his braids as you try to gain traction, pull him down to your level. Get a better hold on him.

Its intense, dizzying. You kiss him like you’re dying and maybe you are. Maybe you’ve been slowly dying since he first got here. Every moment that you hadn’t been able to be held by him had killed you- a slow torturous death.

You drag him down. Do you know he’d follow you anywhere? Under the waves, down onto the soft sand. He cups the back of your head, shelters your neck as he bullies his thin hips between your dense thighs and pressed you against the ground.

The months worth of tension isn't released gently, because it can't be.

The kisses are bruising. Wandering hands and desperate tongues. It’s carnal, Fertility season making both of your minds cloudy as you try to dig into each others flesh.

Nothing is close enough.

With a whine, your fingers slip under Neteyam's multilayered choker. Using it as leverage to tug on as you thrust your hips up violently. The heat at the apex of your legs grinding against his covered erection dangerously.

“Ah-” he gasps wetly “Easy, Narlor. Easy”

“Sorry” you simper, panting. Trying to get a hold on the feelings rushing through you. One hand gripping his necklace, the other slipping into the back of his hair, brushing the nape of his neck “I want- I dream about it all the time”

Fire rushes down Neteyam’s spine, both at your words and your feather light touch to his kuru. He wonders if you touched yourself after those dreams. If you had to take the edge off like he had. He shudders at the thought-

You’re kissing at his neck again, at all of that sensitive skin under his braids, near his ears.

Your quick touches are everywhere. Rushing all over his body. Manicured nails scraping over his skin-

“Ugh,” he warbles out as your curious hand disappears under his tweng.

Its a tight fit as your fingers dance along his hard cock. Delicate and teasingly light. He’s going to come all over himself like some inexperienced teenager that had never gotten a taste of pussy before if you don't. Slow. Down.

“Tell me about those dreams of yours. What’d we do in them?” Neteyam teases, his lips moving against the corner of your mouth. A distraction for both you and himself.

You can't form words, not as you feel how big he is. As you cherish the fact you’ll never be empty again. He's hard and pulsing in your hand and you want him inside of you. Your mouth, your cunt. You don't care. You want to be the only one who gets to feel him, no one else can ever-

There’s only one way to ensure that.

“Tsahelyu” you whimper, “Please Neteyam. Need it”

He slows down a bit, his head spacy but not totally lost. The bond is everything. It’s the most important aspect of Na’vi culture “I can't bond you here”

“Why?” its a petulant whine, your hips pressing against his again.

“I’m not going to bond you on the cold ground, Yawne. Out in the open”

“It’s okay, I don’t mind” you press and he chuckles, shaking his head “you could have me anywhere you want me”

It’s the raw honesty in your voice that drives him crazy.

Devotion in a way that makes him lightheaded.

He can't give you Tsaheylu yet, he wants it done right. He wants you tucked in a mountain of blankets with a warm fire going- at the height of Fertility Season. The ancestors watching over you as he intertwines himself into your soul for the rest of time.

“I will have you” He assures you, dragging his mouth across your clavicle, his long fingers working the strings of your intricate top loose “And you’ll have me. But you have to let me do it right”

You hate waiting. You tell him as he suckles his way across your chest. Moaning as he finally gets his mouth on your soft breasts. Your fist his braids, shivering as he feasts on your skin.

“I’ll make it worth your while” Neteyam promises between mouthfuls of supple flesh “You’ll want for nothing. I’ll give you anything”

He’s humping down into you, unable to stop his hips from shifting. His cock seeking your warmth. You’re right there, he could just-

“Please” you shiver, like you know what he’s thinking. Like you can read his mind and all the dirty thoughts that cross it.

You can't take it. All of his hesitating.

You’d heard that the Omiticayans were more reserved, more traditional when it came to mating but he was going to drive you crazy.

You push on his chest. Gentle yet demanding.

He doesn't want to remove his mouth from your breasts but he allows it all the same. His lips swollen, a thin string of spit connecting him to your tender nipple as he stares at you with questioning eyes.

Neteyam lets you push him off of you before he goes down onto his back, the sand grating against his shoulder blades as he lays flat. You grin the entire time. Your eyes sparkling with excitement. With hunger.

You look as horny as he feels and it kills him.

Your fingers pluck at the at the delicate ties of your tweng, loosening it until it falls from your curvy hips.

“Y/N” he warns as you then reach for his own. Tugging at the leather straps of his loincloth. He raises his hips, helping you shimmy it down his long legs.

“You can't bond me” You whisper as you straddle his waist, your small hands using his broad chest for balance, palms on his pectorals “Not yet anyway”

“Mhmm” Neteyams murmurs as his eyes roll into the back of his head. You're hot and dripping wet, the center of your legs steaming as you rub it against his groin.

“That doesn't mean you cant touch me” you coo at the man under you as you slowly begin to undulate above him. Your hips circling as your head lowers to tongue at the underside of his jaw.

“Shit” He curses in English, gasping at the night sky as you drag damply across his lower stomach .

“Yes?” you question him as you reach for his hand, leading it exactly where you need him most.

“Yeah” Neteyam assures, fingertips dipping where you're skin is plush and dripping- right in between your spread thighs “Yeah, Yeah”

Your hand is still leading his, cupping him firmly against your pussy as he feels how much you need him. You hadn't been the only one dreaming of this. You had danced behind his eyelids for months. His brain had played tricks on him, desperately splicing together mismatched audio in an attempt to conjure up what you would sound like when he finally got to have you.

A shivery keen escapes you when he presses on your swollen bundle of nerves and nah. His imagination couldn't hold a candle to this.

It’s not just how you sound its how you look.

Sat on top of him, resting on your knees with your chest bare save for that brightly hued Lei. Your kiss bruised bottom lip is skewered between your sharp teeth as you worry it in keyed-up concentration. Blue eyes low, your long eyelashes almost fluttering against your cheeks as you stare down at him.

It’s how you smell.

Ripe and earth wet- his mouth floods as he inhales lungfuls of it, your juices are all over him. His waist, coating his hand . Everywhere but right on his tongue where he wants it the most.

Exploring you where you’re the most vulnerable is slippery, your pussy swollen as he traces along the folds. Your clit beats with your pulse under his touch, inflamed and you cry out.

“Awe, baby” he tuts. Your hips chase him in jagged little movements, unsure and needy and it’s enough to get him grinning. You’d been so sure of yourself when you’d pushed him down and climbed on top of him.

Yet here you are a whining mess of his thing in his lap.

There’s no room to tease, he wants to watch you come all over him. Everything still feels too over sensitive. Too new and easily breakable. You’d spent the last near week questioning his feelings.

Neteyam had his words. He could wax to you poetic until your ears bled,

But he had this too. He needed to make you feel a way that no one else could and as he sunk his long digit inside of you he realized that this was better then any conversation. This felt like the most natural way to express all of his emotions, you sucking him in knuckle deep felt so right.

Velvet soft and vice tight, he’s hard between his own legs from just the feel of you. Just knowing that this was his.

You, your heart. Your body. Your tiny little cunt.

Tiny but taking him so well, not just one finger. But two. Then three. Your body moves like the crashing waves behind you, intense and wild. Shoving down onto him so hard that his wrist starts to ache with the demanding press.

“More” you pant wetly into his neck “Faster. Net-please”

He figures out that faster means harder, and harder means he has you all but vibrating on top of him. Bouncing in time with every thrust of his digits. The arm that isn't preoccupied comes around you to hold you steady as he finger fucks you until you're a squealing mess.

This isn't the first time Neteyam has done this.

There’d been girls back home. One girl in particular that didn't take it too personally that he needed tension relief from the war raging around them and not the arranged soon to be wife that everyone had been trying to shove down his throat back them.

This isn't the first time he’s done this but it’s the first time he’s felt this.

He nuzzles your head out from its hiding place in his shoulder. He has to watch your face, needs to see the way he’s making you fall apart.

This is the first time he’s felt the all consuming pull to be with another person. He wants you like this always. So close to him that he could taste the perspiration from your panting breaths.

You tighten up in his arms, going rigid as your pleasure crests. Your pussy fluttering and mouth gaping. It’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. You’re orgasm is ethereal, raw and fervid.

It’s a glance at Eywa. He sees the great mother on your face as you writhe atop of him.

It’s alot, he can tell. Fuck he can only imagine what you’re feeling if it had been this intense for him. Neteyam lets you hide again after a moment. Your hair covers your face as you shake and he thinks you might be crying, but he just brushes a hand down your damp back. Soothing you back down from the high.

The stars are brighter, even as the clouds gather in gluggy gray storm clusters. Everything seems a little bit more beautiful with his fingers still inside of you. It pains him to slide them out, missing the tight clutch of you once his wet fingers are exposed to the cool night air.

Tsaheylu, you’d begged him earlier. His kuru throbs and gooseflesh erupts all over his body just thinking about bonding with you. He wants it more than he’s ever wanted anything.

You nuzzle against him, nosing at his cheek. Your lips ghosting at the corner of his own.

“You okay?” you wonder. Your voice deep and husky. So sexy it makes his eyes close for a second.

“I should be asking you that”

“Mmm, no need to ask. I feel so so good” you assure him, starting to sit up a little “I um-I kind of got really into it. I’m sorry”

“Sorry?” Neteyam questions, keeping his grip on you as you start to squirm. Not in pleasure this time. But in shame, the embarrassed kind. Coming down from the pleasure haze, that anxious edge comes back. Unsure even as you’re on top of him. “Don’t say that. Why would you be sorry right now?”

You huff, nose scrunching. Ears flicking “I made a mess all over you”

It might not be very nice but he can't help but laugh at you. His pearly white canines on display as he hoots, the belly laughs jostling you from your perch.

“What!” you grumble, but smile all the same. “Stop”

“Hmm. I love messes like this. Feel free to make messes like this anytime” his fingers, still glistening come into view as he brings them to his mouth. Your eyes widen, glued to him. At the slight suction of his cheeks as he licks them in earnest “See. Easy clean up, you’ve got nothing to worry about, Pretty”

You taste as good as you smell. His tastebuds tingle as he swirls the new flavor around. Complex; a sweet musk that he wants to bathe in. He’s acutely aware of the way you watch him, your sweet cheeks burning at his lewdness.

When he frees his fingers with a pop, he gasps as your tongue surges in his mouth.

Tasting yourself on his spit.

Fuck.

He lets you kiss him breathless. Lets you run your sloppy kisses all over his face, down his chin. Across his neck. He arches into it all, gives you all the room you need. He’s well aware of what you’re doing. Working your strong scent into every inch of his bare skin.

Scent marking is a vital part of Na’vi courtship. Ancient, ritualistic and respected. Practiced by your ancestors before the first songs.

It’s makes something in him pur, knowing that you want him to smell like you.

“I think that's enough” He grins when your tongue dips into his navel “They can smell me, baby. You did a very thorough job”

The pout on your face is beyond cute as you sit up on your knees. The little ‘hmph’ sound so adorably out of place in the highly sexually charged situation “But I wanna smell like you too. How will anyone know I’m yours if they can’t smell it?”

Neteyam's nostrils flare. His ears swivel on his head and his tail gives a good lash at that. You want to be marked by him too. Are willing to parade his scent around all of those assholes in the clan that have been trying to win your affections, even when it was clear you were uninterested.

“Lay down” It’s an order, spoken softly but directly and you follow it at once. A giddy smile on your face as you lounge on the sand.

You are a vision.

Hair sprawling and messy behind your head. Your legs spread, back arched. Pretty nipples pebbled hard and on display. The only thing covering you is the floral necklace around your svelte throat.

It doesn't take him long at all. He strokes his striped cock firm and efficiently. Too many years of having to get himself off fast enough not to be caught has made his practiced movements almost perfect.

You’re looking at him like that again. Adoration clear as day on your face. Soft for him. You see him-

“Ol Ngati Kamiel” your voice is saccharin as you speak and he grunts violently as he comes.

Ropes of it land on your belly, across your exposed chest. It’s almost too much when you reach down swiping into the translucent, sticky, mess and start rubbing it into your smooth skin. He collapses shakily beside you, needing to collect himself for a minute before he helps your cause.

It’s the most intimate thing the two of you have done all night, laying together. Basking in the afterglow. Your scents mingle, dancing together in the evening breeze and Neteyam wants to imprint this memory somewhere deep.

The festivities are still raging- and you really do need to get back. It’s an important night. Your clan wants you there, the two of you need to make your rounds. Keep appearances. He won’t keep you from your duties, no matter how much he may want to.

After a quick dip in the ocean, removing the filth of love making but still wearing the strong scent of each other's pheromones, you begin to redress.

Neteyam watches. Highly distracted as you shimmy back into your tweng before looping your top around your shoulders. He works clumsily at the leather of his loincloth.

“Wait-”

The two of you are starting the trek back to the bonfire when he reaches out to halt you. His fingers play with wreath of lilies around your neck and his eyes bore into yours pleadingly.

The smile you give him is more radiant then the silvery moons that twinkle in the inky sky.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Even at the late hour the ceremonial bonfire still crackles with life. The festivities have ebbed into something slower, more intimate.

The adults of the clan are all that’s left, children long gone and tucked into their beds or dozing off against their parents' side.

Kiri sits on a carved log, in a circle of familiar faces.

Her mother and father had left not long ago. Tuk had been fighting slumber but succumbed after the Elders crooned a particularly slow song about the Sky and Sea’s forbidden love. Jake had hoisted the young girl up and bid everyone adieu, swaying on his feet as his wife hissed at him about how after all these years, he still couldn’t handle his liquor.

Now, Kiri listens to stories as she sips slowly on her cup of Kava. Enjoying the pleasant burn;

But not willing to end up like her dumb as rocks brother who is sprawled on the ground. Lo’ak is all but unconscious, every time he opens his eyes they are unfocused and hazy.

That’s what he gets for trying to out drink clan members twice his size. He’d been on the losing end of the drinking competition from the start- he was just too stubborn to see it.

Lo’ak is lucky Tsireya doesn’t care much for drinking, and is more than willing to tend to him. She keeps trying to force him to drink water and nibble on bits of food.

Ao’nung isn’t faring much better; he stares at the moon with a dopey smile as he sings, incredibly off tune, to the song that fills the air. A gaggle of girls surround him. Each hoping to catch his eye.

It’d been an all night thing, affections being thrown at him while he ignored it all too easily.

“My bed will be full this season, I’m not worried about a thing” he’d shrugged it off when asked about it.

Roxto’s boisterous laugh had dwindled down when Kiri shot him an extremely unamused glare.

She’s debating on leaving Lo’ak to sleep on the beach for the night when out of the shadows comes her eldest brother; who had been missing for most of the evening.

The hours had bled away and Kiri had tried not to worry too much about the confrontation that was going on just beyond the jovial bubble of the Metkayina celebrations. You had been distraught and Neteyam had never been good at voicing his own emotional needs-

Huh.

It looks like she had nothing to worry about.

The grin on Neteyam’s face is shit eating. It’s the smuggest she’s ever seen him. Even at his first Inknimaya, back with the Omiticaya, he hadn’t reacted like this. All head raised high and walking on a cloud.

You tug him along behind you, you guys’ fingers tightly intertwined. Your hips sway excitedly as you bounce along the sand. Kiri’s brother's chest is puffed out in obvious pride as he follows your footsteps.

Around his neck is Lei made up of vibrant pink flowers. It matches the one in your hair, that sits kind of lopsided now.

As the couple gets you closer, and Kiri catches a whiff of your approaching bodies, she wants to wretch. You’re drowning in each other's scents and it’s quite obvious what you had been up to all night.

“So gross” Kiri gags in accusation once you’re both in earshot.

You two owed her so big. She thinks naming one of your future children after her would suffice.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Okayyyyy. This was so fun to write and I already have Part Three brewing! TAGLIST IS CLOSED.

So like. Lots to address here. Tons to talk about. I’m gonna start the conversation but I hope you guys continue it in the comments.

1. The Motnaui is something I completely made up(…yes after watching Moana and taking inspiration for the name) lol it’s a ritualistic hunt that newly anointed hunters and warriors go on after their Metkayinan Iknimaya’s. I know all the different clans Iknimaya traditions would be different and I thought this would be cool.

2. I read a story in the Avatar fandom where the liquor they drank was called Kava and it just stuck in my brain. I know Kava is a drink in real life too, but for the sake of storytelling, please think about them as completely different things. The drink in this story is more of a wine/moonshine mixture deal. Would really fuck your ass upppp.

3. Fertility Season is obvs totes made up. Why is it rainy during it? Because I myself would want a week of non stop loving making with a nice little fire going, under lots of blankets with it chilly and rainy outside. And at the end of the day I’m writing for me lol

4. NETEYAM IS A SWEETHEART WHO STRUGGLES WITH HIS SELF WORTH JUST LIKE THE REST OF US. Please listen to the Artic Monkeys while you read this chapter(wanna be yours, do I wanna know, 505. THE LONGING)

5. Expect more POV’s to come! It will always be mostly rooted from Y/N’s point of view but I love touching base with all of the other characters. It’s so fun. I’m thinking a snippet of Neytiris in Part Three!

[the20thangel]

Father and Son Bonding

Summary: This was a request from someone: " May I request something with Targaryen reader and Benjicot Blackwood? Benji is getting along with Damon, and (God, I can't get this out of my head) they are talking about how much they hate the greens, and Benji calls Aegon a c**t. (His voice is so deep and hot.) But the reader is just happy they are getting along because Damon is the most important person to her other than her mother."

Word count: 1030

Tags: not much ?? cursing ??

As Aleera Targaryen commanded her dragon Vermithor to land near the ruins of Harrenhal, She saw her father Daemon come out to meet her and her party arriving. Aleera was the eldest daughter of Prince Daemon and Queen Rhaenyra. Albit a secret to those who were not close family. She was born with the typical Targaryen platinum hair, straight like her father’s and her grandfather’s Baelon indigo eyes. She was the epitome of a Targaryen princess. She was a proud dragon rider, knowing how to sword fight since she was young. Who practically commanded her father to teach her since Ser Crispy Cole refused to, stating that ladies fighting was a disgrace in the eyes of the seven. She could care less about the seven as a believer in the Fourteen Flames.  

Walking out of the castle, Daemon looked up to see the bronze fury, always glad to see his daughter. He frowned, seeing someone behind his daughter; that person was Benjicot Blackwood, the new lord of Raventree Hall and technically his good-son. Aleera and Benjicot have been married for over a year, and how they became married caused a little drama in the court. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Viserys, in a last stitch to bring his family together, proposed that Aleera and Aemond marry. Rhaenyra and Alicent were against it, but Visery was deadset about marrying his second son and oldest granddaughter. Aleera stated she would rather feed herself to the Cannibal than marry her uncle. Seeing that her grandsire would not budge, she decided to take manners into her own hands. Going around the seven kingdoms and told any eligible man that anybody who could beat her in a duel would have her hand in marriage. Many would try, but all would fail as she grew disappointed and desperate to find someone worthy. Then, she met Benjicot, who had never placed himself in the group of men for her hand. 

It was only by coincidence she saw him training with Oscar and Kermit Tully. Seeing his bloodlust and wicked sword skills, she grew interested. Depending on who you ask, she insisted or commanded that Benjicot duel with her. Benjicot tried to decline but was ultimately pushed by Oscar and Kermit, each of who tried but failed to win the hand of the princess. As the lord and princess dueled, Aleera felt the rush that no other man had ever made her feel before. It all happened by chance that Aleera accidentally slipped on mud, allowing Benjicot to win the duel. He used that excuse not to ask her hand, but Aleera only smiled and said that no other man had come even as close as he had, asking him if he would give the pleasure of marrying her. With the encouragement of the two lads, Benjicot smiled and accepted the match. 

The two held a fast ceremony with a Septon unifying them in front of the Weirwood Tree with Alysanne Blackwood and the Tully brothers as witnesses. Once the news arrived at the Red Keep, King Viserys could not annul the marriage, not when there was proof of the couple consummating the marriage and parchment from the septon who married them. Aemond grew furious, demanding that the Lord of House Blackwood be punished for taking his wife. This caused Viserys to scold his son in front of the court and ask his granddaughter and husband to present themselves to him. Aleera arrived proudly wearing House Blackwood colors along with her husband, much to Aemond and the greens' ire. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As Aleera and Benjicot stepped down from the Bronze fury, Aleera smiled at her father but quickly frowned at his deshelved state. As Benjicot greeted and bowed to the Prince, he noticed the prince’s state, glancing at his wife, who nodded; maybe Harrenhal was haunted. Following Daemon to the main room, a small feast would be held for the princess and her lord husband. As the feast progressed and the wine was consumed, many men, including Prince Daemon and Benjicot, began to joke around. Someone mentioned how Benjicot had punched a lone Braken after the Battle of Burning Mill. Aleers snorted into her cup; her husband always had a short fuse regarding Brackens. Daemon tauntly asked why the current generation of Brakens and Blackwoods hate each other. 

“Well, they just declared for the greens, my prince, showing us the true colors.” Stated Benjicot as he stared down the prince. 

Daemon raised an eyebrow silently, asking for elaboration. He noticed his daughter smile and shake her head fondly at her husband. It seemed his daughter truly enjoyed her husband's company. 

“The Brakens are thieves thinking they are owed something that doesn’t belong to them, just like the little thief Aemond “one eye” is. They are also weak, craven cunts like their stupid craven, weak cunt of a king Aegon, the pretender,” explained Benji as the room cheered, shouting out the words insulting Aegon and the greens. 

Daemon laughed menacingly as Benjicot gave his signature smirk first to his wife and then toward his good-father. Aleera rolled her eyes as she leaned to kiss her husband's cheek. 

“Oh, I knew my daughter was smart to marry someone like you. I like you, boy; you will duel with me tomorrow.” declared Daemon as he rose from his seat, raising his glass. 

“To my daughter, Princess Aleera, for choosing a smart, ruthless husband who will cut any Braken on site and soon any green on sight, to Bloody Ben who will restore my wife’s throne into our family hands!” cheered Daemon as the whole hall cheered raising their glasses to the Princess and her lord husband. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later the night, as Aleera lay in her husband’s arms drawing circles on his naked chest, she hmmed, pressing a kiss to his neck. 

“Who knew the fastest way you and my father would finally bond was your shared hatred for the greens? If I knew that was all it was going to take, then I would have pushed for you to talk earlier,” smirked Aleera, staring at her husband. 

Benjicot smirked back at his wife, never replying to her, only bringing her closer as he pressed a kiss to her mouth.

[hanihazeljade]

Forced Playdate

Timothy is good at keeping good boy image in his appearances in public vicinity but somehow this girl that he was forced to get along with, frustrates every single neuron he has and things go awry.

Part 3 of Disgustingly Green , Skill Issue

(CW: mean, mean, mean Timothy)

Timothy was called one day and he was forced to be nice with this girl, her named is probably Maya or Gia? He didn't remember, she was named in his head as a rambunctious brat.

Well apparently, the brat's father and the weird man that throw him are friends, probably the father is also a weird and idiot person, because birds and their feathers.

Lunch with the kid is a disaster. She use her hands to eat her food like a baby and the food sometimes fly around his plate, making his appetite finally left him. Thank goodness he was not put in a high chair or else he will just drop himself and hope he will die.

If such a kid don't have manners, and the father's friend don't have manners, then by analytical and statistical basis, the father is also a rambunctious brat that doesn't have any manners, and Timothy will do his best to avoid those people.

But of course, the Waynes are twats that doesn't make his life any easier.

Tim doesn't know why he was being forced to be buddy buddy with this uncivilised monkey. At first he can tolerate it as maybe she is just really got a lenient parent, a single father even, but as time goes by Timothy starts to get irritated by passing second.

The little girl, Sophia(?), he still can't remember and he rather stays that way, kept asking him so many questions and kept telling him that they should play. Rolling his eyes internally, he rather jump to Gotham Bay instead of playing with this monkey.

"Didn't your parents taught you manners?" Timothy suddenly asked, losing his cool altogether. The girl just tilt her head. She is already six and yet can't articulate her words better, His mother wouldn't be proud if he was this late bloomer.

"Manners?" she finally replied, titled her head in a manner that some people will say it's adorable, still kind of dumb answer but at least she kinda shut up for now.

"You are a lady, you need to act like one. Not an uncivilised homosapiens." Tim rolled his eyes. The little girl definitely didn't understand what he said, but her father did and boy, was he pissed.

"She's six!" Roy growled, obviously not fancying the idea his daughter is not allowed to be a little kid and be a stuck up spoiled little brat.

Tim just scoffed, like how her mother would whenever his father said something dumb, "And when I'm six, I know how to behave like a decent human being, not some animal who acts on it's instinct." Timothy said as he glared sharply to Roy. The kid was cute but those eyes are not. Roy never thought that he can see the Tim's eyes like that. It was always light and some life in them but now, Tim is like those pretentious rich people he met during Ollie's parties.

"You spoil her too much, but what should I expect to someone who befriend a failure like that man." Timothy rolled his eyes, "You people disgust me."

Tim sighed, he didn't give anyone a chance to speak as he announced, "I will be in my room. I am exhausted dealing with people like you." Timothy said with disgust as he left in silence.

[darkestspring]

“He takes Helaena and their three children and bends the knee to her in return for senya and the twins being kept away from allow this. “

- please please please would you give us an actual fic of this.

Show them living on dragon stone.

Show them arrive at dragon stone, Nyra is confused but welcomes them especially Senya obviously. Show them bend the knee

I need more of this. It would be so good and you would write is brilliantly as always.

- =]

Aegon's initial plan to run off to Essos with Senya had failed, ending him Aemond dragging him back while Criston carried the slumbering five year old Senya in his arms.

He didn't care if this had been his father's will (he doubted it. Was his mother finally cracking????? finally going delusional???? rhaenyra was the heir, not him.) he wanted to part in this succession. He didn't even want to be married to Helaena but after Senya, they were still trying to make it work, trying to be parents together instead of him ignoring her.

He wasn't going to take this lying down, not for one second. Not for Senya's sake. It took him a few weeks but he finally created a situation that required everyone's attention so he could slip away.

"Come with me-" Aegon barged into Helaena's room but she was already waiting with all three of their children and the cut himself off.

Sure, it was a little unsettling how Helaena knew things before he had the chance to utter them but this situation was urgent. He didn't have time to think about anything else but getting the fuck out of there.

"Alright, let's go now." Aegon urged Helaena forwards with a gentle guiding hand. "Take the twins on Dreamfyre, I'll take Senya on Sunfyre. It shouldn't take long to reach dragonstone."

Helaena nodded and picked up the twins as Aegon picked up Senya.

Rhaenyra was confused, last thing she heard, they were crowning Aegon as the new king, what a fucking joke, but here he was in front of her with Helaena and their three children but she held up her hand, stopping Daemon from moving forward.

Daemon looked like he wanted to say something but ultimately stopped as she wanted, standing behind her as he glared Aegon down.

Senya looked to be about their son, Aegon's age now. She was peering up at them as she waved towards them, still in Aegon's arms.

"Heard they were making you king. Is that why you are here. To proudly declare that you've usurped my throne." Rhaenyra stared coolly at her younger brother.

"I would rather have birds tear at my limbs." Aegon retorted and maybe he shouldn't have, maybe he should have been serious about this. But he didn't come here to fake niceties. He knew his sister hated him, he hated how much she was loved by their father but all he wanted was his family to be safe. "I'm not delusional, I know a farce when I see one. Father chose you when I was a babe, he never changed his mind."

"I already tried to flee once but I was brought back so, I ran here instead. I don't care about the throne, I never have. All i want is for my family to be safe, for Senya to not grow up in a place surrounded by war and terror." He grew up in peace, so he wanted the same for his daughter.

"I'll bend the knee, I'll do whatever you ask of me, as long as my family is safe."

Rhaenyra stared at Aegon for a moment even as he followed through, both Helaena and Aegon kneeling, Senya imitated her father, still not sure what's happening and the twins followed after their sister.

"I'll protect you, as your sister, and as your queen. You've knelt and shown loyalty to me, so I'll forgive whatever transgressions have been committed in the past." Rhaenyra beckoned Senya forward, not being able to hold back anymore and Senya rushed over and into her aunts arms.

Life was easy now, he no longer had to look over his shoulder for his brother or his mother and grandfather. Senya spent most of her day either playing with Rhaenyra's youngest children, Aegon and Viserys, or out looking at the flowers.

Aegon was just happy to still see the unfiltered happiness on his daughter's face.

[extremelyblackandwhite]

pairing: dad!bucky barnes x au pair!reader

warnings: age gap (reader is 10 years younger than bucky), female masturbation, mentions of sex, smut (18+, dni if under 18)

summary: there’s something about bucky that she never allowed herself to fully explore. 

Sadie had always been a quiet baby, even the day he first met her. She was just there, on the entry mat of his flat, wrapped in hospital blanket, laid on her back and sleeping peacefully. He could not believe that such peace, such overwhelming purity had somehow came from him. Ever since, that remained. She was well behaved, usually being happy if someone she knew was around. She was the best thing that could’ve possibly come from him and as he laid her down in her bed, surrounded by another pile of plushies which she demanded she had to sleep next to every night, that feeling that his little girl only had him, the most imperfect person he knew, made his heart stop even if for a second. He shook those thoughts from his mind, distracting himself by pulling the comforter over his daughter and kissing her head, turning the lights off as he exited the room. This was not it. Not what he envisioned when he allowed himself the chance to think of a future where he had children. If he had allowed himself the fantasy when he was younger, he would’ve rather had a traditional home somewhere in the suburbs where everyone was sure to somehow get in his nerves but was safer. The home would be homey, walls covered in photos from a single live well lived, a wedding photo at the entry door and three jackets in the same colour but different sizes. He thought if he ever had children, he would be married to someone he loved and loved him back. Yet, he’d only allowed himself the childish notion of love towards himself to ran wild before he got into the army, before the accident. Truth was, after the accident he didn’t want a bride and he certainly didn’t want children. He wasn’t naive enough to believe himself unattractive, he knew he was, he knew he was magnetic. However, he knew the difference between magnetism, passion and love. Love and lust may go together, but they don’t arise together, not at the beginning. 

Parts of him sometimes wished things would’ve worked out with Sadie’s mother. God, he’d tried. He’d been an idiot before, begging on his knees to a woman who couldn’t care less about the child she’d abandoned on his doorstep, to please give him a chance. He had begged her to allow him to show her a nice life, even if she didn’t love him, even if she didn’t like him. Heck, he’d even attempted to pay her, just so Sadie would have a mother. Just so Sadie would know her mother. The sad truth was that Sadie’s mother didn’t want to be her mother. She didn’t even want to be reminded of Sadie’s existence except for when she needed money. For her, Sadie was an accident. Heck, for her she didn’t even know their child was even named Sadie. She didn’t care. Bucky tried to pretend he didn’t care either but he did. He wanted Sadie happy. He couldn’t be the best dad, he knew that, but he could try to give her everything. 

He popped the glass lid off the whiskey bottle on his drink cart, pouring himself a very generous glass. Maybe he should put some photos up on the walls. Yet, he doubted his interior designer would be very happy about it. 

     - Is she off for the night? - Y/N came down the stairs, dressed in her beige loungewear and carrying the single cup of tea she seemed to always have around her. He nodded, taking another sip of his drink while staring into pure nothingness. - I’m taking her to the park tomorrow morning. Playdate with one of the kids from school.

     - Where did you learn to shoot? 

     - How is that relevant to your daughter’s playdate? 

     - No one shoots that well as a first timer. - he turned to look at her. - That’s no beginners luck. That’s good shooting. 

     - My older brother used to have fun shooting cans down with BB guns when we were kids. He taught me.

     - You have a brother? 

     - How is that relevant?

     - We never actually talk, Y/N. You spend days with my kid and I don’t know much about you. I’m curious. - he sat on his couch, patting the seat next to him. - Trust me, doll. It pays off being in my good graces. 

    - Don’t care. You already pay me. - she leaned on the back of the couch, looking at him with a smug grin. - Quite handsomely, actually. 

    - Do you want a drink? 

    - I have a drink. - she rose her cup of tea. 

    - A proper drink. I have the good stuff, doll. Besides, Sadie’s asleep and your boss won’t care if you have a drink or two. - he got up, ready to pour her something. - Come on. When will you be able to drink 50 year old scotch? 

    - You have 50 year old scotch? - she peaked over to the trolley. - Is that even drinkable? Has it not developed a weird taste? Does the scotch know women have rights now? 

     - Don’t get too used to it. They cost a pretty penny. - he handed her a glass. - Worth it. 

    - How much does it cost? 

    - Just enjoy yourself. 

That was good scotch. She probably had no qualification to be deciding what was good and what was bad scotch but she was entirely sure this was good scotch. Good strong scotch and just by the second glass, the two of them were giggling like two school girls, her cup of tea long forgotten. 

   - C’mon, c’mon ... - she playfully slapped his arm. - You slept with at least one of them. They’re hot. 

   - I don’t sleep with my employees. I’m a good boss. 

   - But she’s so hot. - she hammered on. - I would sleep with her if I swung that way. Is that a rule? Only hot secretaries?

   - It’s not my fault hot people attract hot people. 

   - At least one of the mums at Sadie’s school. 

   - Nope. 

   - They’re always throwing themselves at you. Honestly, its your pick at this point. 

   - I can’t. They very respectfully throw themselves at me but they still think there’s a Mrs. Barnes. 

   - Sadie’s mum? - she almost sobered up at the thought. - Sadie’s mum has come by?

   - No, not Sadie’s mum. You. 

   - I’m not Mrs. Barnes. Do they think I’m Mrs. Barnes?

   - Wow. - he chuckled at her horrified face - Would it be such a bad thing to be Mrs. Barnes? There are worse fates.

    - You’re not my type. - she almost snorted a laugh, hiding the sight of her lips behind the hammered glass of the tumbler. 

Bucky leaned against the couch, looking her up and down without moving anything but his eyes. It was a sniper look if she’d ever seen one and although she was covered in oversized loungewear, she felt as if she stood stark naked in front of her boss. Her cheeks heated and she no longer knew if it was from the scotch in her system or from the look she was receiving from him. His motionless state changed as he moved like a feline, standing above her, close enough she could feel his breathe on her. She buried herself deeper into the couch, trying to avoid his eyes. Had his eyes always been this blue? 

     - I’m sure I could change your mind if I wanted. - he chuckled before returning to his seat. - What about you? You’re very curious about my love life, what about yours? 

     - I don’t have time. 

     - That I know. You’re always here, overtime with my daughter. Are there no postgraduate men vying for your attention? - he drank whatever was leftover of the amber liquid in the glass. 

     - I’m not that kind of girl. - she laughed, uncomfortable at the mention of her dating life. She was already ashamed of it, of what her love life looked like. There was no one tripping over themselves to date her. Perhaps it was merely because she didn’t know what it took to put oneselves out there, she didn’t like the superficiality of dating apps, somewhat still wanting a traditional meet cute, and when she wasn’t studying, she was looking after Sadie. Besides, she never was the centre of attention, so why would she be now? - I’m content. 

     - If I were 10 years younger, I’d be all over you. - he winked. - You need more time off. 

     - Who needs a boyfriend when I can be Mrs. Barnes apparently. - she rebutted, getting a laugh from him. - If apparently I am Mrs. Barnes, I think I’m gonna need a raise. 

      - You’re just making me lose out of on the chance to sleep with the school’s MILFs. You may need a pay cut, actually.

      - I think you’ve had too much too drink. Another comment like that and they won’t let you near the school. - she let herself lean against the pillow, taking him in with a very drunken mind. James Barnes was gorgeous, he’d always been gorgeous but perhaps her sober self had never allowed herself to see him like this, see him as a sexual being or have less than appropriate thoughts about her boss.

She knew he was attractive, she knew everybody wanted him even if it was for a single night. She’d heard some of it ... by accident when Sadie was at school and he thought no one was home. She didn’t think much of it but now, as he stood there in dark joggers and a way too tight white t-shirt, those noises were all she could think of. What it would feel like to hear a man like that come undone, to be the reason a man like that came undone. She wondered what his fingers would feel against supple skin, the texture of his lips and tongue. 

      - Are you alright? - his voice luckily took her out of her depraved fantasy world. She shouldn’t be thinking of this, she shouldn’t think of him like that. He’s her boss, he’s Sadie’s dad. - I’m just joking around. I am not a man whore, Y/N. 

      - I know. - she swallowed the lump in her throat. - I, I really need to get to bed or Sadie will miss her playdate tomorrow. 

      - I should be going too. Work tomorrow. 

      - Ah ... - she looked around. - I’ll wait for you to say goodnight to Sadie tomorrow then? Or do you want her to go to sleep before you arrive?

      - I’ll text you if I make it before bedtime.

      - Okay. Hum ... goodnight, Sergeant Barnes.

(...)

It was official. She was depraved. 

The 50 year old scotch made her a depraved individual. That had to be the reason she was twisting and turning around in her bed, her sheets no longer smooth instead tangled between her legs as her mind wandered further into the sexuality that her boss exuded. He was stuck in her mind, from the way his lips grazed the glass to how close he’d been to her. He’d been so close to her, close enough she could’ve kissed him if she wanted to. She was sure he was a good kisser. He looked like he was a good kisser. 

She turned around of more, staring at the ceiling, trying to find something remotely interesting in the wide white of the ceiling. Instead, she wondered about what he was doing in his bedroom. She wondered if he was restless too, perhaps finding something more interesting to do with his time and like an annoying radio song, those moans were back in her memory. God, she wondered if he needed a woman with him to make those sounds. Wondered if he laid down at night, fantasising about the perfect woman, tugging at his cock. Oh god ...

     - Stop it. - she mumbled to herself but that image was now stuck in her mind. The idea of his lips parted as he jerked off, moans leaving his mouth like any other fantasy. 

That heat was back to her cheeks as her hand shyly descended, from her side to the hem of her shorts. She shouldn’t, she really shouldn’t and perhaps if she were sober she wouldn’t be doing it but at the mere memory of him, all inhibitions were out the window and her hand went under the shorts and her underwear. She reached between the heat in her legs, finding to no surprise that her colourful imagination made her wet. She let herself imagine what it would be like for him to touch her as she lazily circled her clit with her fingers, her other hand toying with her hardened nipple. 

She could almost hear his voice in that state, whispering dirty words into her ear as she thrust a finger into her wanting heat, her palm rubbing against her bundle of nerves as she slowly fucked herself. She wondered if he’d put his hand around her throat, calling her all sorts of things and moaning against her ear. 

    - Sergeant Barnes ... - she moaned to herself, her head trashing around her pillow as she bit the fabric trying to suppress any noise from coming out. 

She was done for, so done for. 

(...)

     - Oh my god! - she shrieked as she stepped away from the tub, receiving yet another splash of water which instead of ending up on the floor, hit her directly across her front. 

The bathroom was steamed from the heat of the water, most of which now laid on the ground in puddles or soaked into her clothing. This never happened, or at least it didn’t usually happen. That’s what she gets for bathing an overexcited toddler. She looked down on herself, sighing before picking up the only dry towel in the bathroom and pulling Sadie out the bath before she turned the bathroom into her own private pool. She already had one of those, she didn’t need two. 

     - You’re gonna have to help me mop, huh? - she told the 2 year old as she dried her off and helped her into dry, clean pyjamas. - We can’t splash in the bath.

     - Fun! - she merely replied with that smile that almost made her forgive everything. Almost.

She picked Sadie up, leaning her against her hip so she wouldn't trip on the wet tilled floor. That’s just what she needed for tonight, to spend it all moping the floors of the bathroom. Yet right now all she needed was to get Sadie fed and calm before she created any more danger. She would change after. It was just the two of them tonight and Bucky hadn’t shown any signs of showing up before bedtime which gave her plenty of time to get her ducks in a row. 

At least that’s what she had thought until she stepped right into Bucky’s track as she made her way to the kitchen. Bucky stood there, almost made of stone as he took in what stood in front of him. His daughter was happily giggling, speaking about her playdate while Y/N was soaking wet, from head to toe. It was almost as if she wasn't wearing a shirt. The thin white material transparent and clinging to the pebbled nipples and outline of her breasts and if that wasn't enough, the wet white shorts gave him a front view of her red underwear. 

He’d never felt like a perverted old man until now. Until the sight of this woman soaking wet made him wonder what she would look like completely naked. Suddenly, his trousers felt tighter around his crotch and he had to turn his head away. This was his child’s mother ... shit, his child’s babysitter. Whatever. This was inappropriate. 

    - I’m sorry. She splashed the whole bathroom.

What was he supposed to reply? He couldn’t look the woman in the eye without getting hard. Instead, he grabbed his daughter from her, taking a few steps back. A few which looked like a mile away. 

     - You may want to change, Y/N. - he cleared his throat. 

     - Oh ... - she looked down herself. Great. Now she was having inappropriate thoughts about her boss and prancing around in see through clothing. - I’m so sorry.

    - Just go, Y/N. - he motioned towards the stairs, turning around to face the other side as she climbed up the stairs and away from his sight. Great, he was a perverted old man now. 

     - Daddy, you’re red. - Sadie piped up as he sat her down in her chair. - Angry?

    - No, Sadie. I’m not angry. 

    - Sorry. - she apologised. 

    - Just don’t splash Miss Y/N, yeah? Makes things complicated for daddy.

[37sommz-archive]

✼. COME TO ITALY | 2015.

CH. 01. NOW PLAYING: dreams by the cranberries [fluff, angst]. ✼.⠀summary: prema saves michaela's career, 2.1k.

MICHAELA WAS NEVER GOOD AT SITTING STILL. Her mother used to scold her for the fidgety nature that seemed to plague the young girl when she would bounce around the doctor’s office or disrupt the teacher during storytime. Her father thought it was a good trait to have as a racer. He found it helpful that his daughter’s endless supply of energy allowed her the chance to spend many hours in their garage fixing up a broken kart or reviewing racing footage from that day. She would bounce around, spurting out corrections for her form, or her pace.

I’m breaking too late… 

too early… 

I’m much too wide…

that was a chance to overtake.

As hyperactive as she was, she was also incredibly self-critical. Her uncle always lamented she was much too focused on being perfect—in action, in talent, and in response—that she often missed her chances to celebrate. Her response was always the same, “For every single mistake I make, they give the same amount of grace to the boys on their 10th.” She reasoned that her perfection would eliminate any opportunity for the males in the sport to discredit her. 

Not that they needed much opportunity.

✼.⠀OCTOBER 20, 2015 — surrey, england

“WE CANNOT GUARANTEE YOU A SEAT FOR NEXT SEASON.” That was what the team principal told her after she fell short of the rookie cup. Second to il Predestinato and his shiny Dutch car. Though Michaela was rarely still, she stood still in that moment. Staring up at the older Englishman’s eyes as he continued on with some excuse she had no interest in hearing. 

It wasn’t until he delivered a short, “The team wishes you the best. We’re sure you’ll have your fair pick of teams to choose from next season.” 

Bullshit. 

She muttered to herself as she turned on her heels to leave without her famously permanent smile to comfort the older man. 

“I outperformed those jerkoffs in every single race,” The words stormed into the silent room as Travis, her uncle and manager, stood across from her.

Approaching her with caution, he gently reached to grab her shoulders, pulling her in for a gentle hug. Meant to calm her, but it did anything but. After a beat, Michaela tore herself away from her uncle, a sigh emitting from his chest signaling to her he was just as frustrated as she was. 

“Travis—” 

He cut her off before she could say what they were both thinking. His eyes slowly tracked her movements as she paced from one end of the room to the other. 

“Mickey, we both know that you outperformed Ryan and Gus. But let’s not pretend we don’t know what’s going on here.” 

She scoffed at that, eyes rolling with angry disbelief as her arms found their way back into their pretzel over her chest. Travis, in his stubborn wisdom, continued speaking, “This is a test—”

“A test?” 

She exclaimed, arms thrown from their place on her chest. Her head shook from one side to the other as Travis watched on with a subtle sympathy for his ambitious niece. 

“They tested me all season.” 

The words peaked in tone, hitting Travis’ ear with a sense of pain he hadn’t seen in the 15-year-old since she was back in Australia breaking the news over the phone that her father had been laid off.

“They gave me the least reliable car, they refused to protect me from the pricks who terrorized me off the track. Then, when I get a win in Germany—” 

Her lips pursed together at the memory, stopping in the middle of her words to keep herself from crying. 

“The only win between the three of us—” 

Failure finds her, tears puddled in the corners of her eyes spill over. 

“The engineers abandon me on the podium to talk strategy with the other two.”

“How many times do I need to prove that I’m just as,” Stopped to correct her words her head shook again, “...better than the boys?”

It’s Travis’ turn to fold his arms over each other. His head fell back against the door that stood behind his frame, too pained to watch Michaela fight to hold back the tears that kept flowing down the sides of her face. Their lips equally pursed as the silence filled the room once again.

This was what most of their conversations ventured into. That question of being enough tortured both of them, for admittedly different reasons, but the toll of it weighed upon their shoulders the same. It had been a question Michaela frequently asked her uncle, usually in jest, though revealing the depth of her insecurities just the same. 

They both knew Travis would eventually have to offer her an answer. 

One definitive so she would stop asking. 

But Michaela would be lying if she tried to act as if she was naively unaware of the answer Travis fought back every time the question was posed. 

She knew the answer was never. 

She knew the answer would destroy her if confirmed by the one person who believed she was better than the boys. She knew the answer would tear down every step forward she took in the name of chasing the success she so desperately craved to taste. 

So Travis didn’t answer. Neither of them was sure he ever would.

Instead, with his head pressed against the hardwood behind him, he offered up a solution. As he always did.

“We’ll call around in the morning like we always do. We’ll use every trick, every piece of leverage we have. I’m going to get you that seat. Doesn’t matter where, doesn’t matter how.”

When Michaela didn’t respond, his head broke away from its hold tipped back. His eyes met hers searching endlessly for a sliver of hope in her clouded brown eyes. The same eyes she shared with his older brother. 

“C’mon Mickey—” He coaxed in an attempt to draw an emotion out of the teenager who stood before him. Any emotion would do in that moment. “I’ll make it happen. You believe me? Right?”

It must have been nearly a minute before she broke the staring contest she held over him. She shrugged her shoulders, arms folded over to offer a sense of comfort to her pained self. 

“Yes?” Travis pushed once more, eyebrows raised in a way that reminded her of her father’s own instinctive heroism.

“Yeah.”

A nod was all he needed to cross the space over to her. With a shake of her shoulders, Michaela released the smallest of giggles. His paler hand ruffled at her curly hair, a move to diffuse the tension that hung between the two family members. 

“Right,” He exhaled as his hand retreated to its place. “Let’s get out of this shithole.”

✼.⠀NOVEMBER 05, 2015 — london, england

“In a post to her blog, Susie Wolff has announced her formal retirement from Formula One.”

-

“The prospect of a female driver on the grid.”

-

“The events at the start of this year and the current environment in F1 the way it is, it isn't going to happen."

-

IN THE FEW WEEKS SINCE HER DROP FROM JAGONYA, MICHAELA HAD NOT LEFT HER RACING SIMULATOR IF NOT TO EAT OR SLEEP. The TV directly to her left was left on Sky Sports, news within the racing world kept her both alert and melancholy.

Paradoxically, it worried Travis, and his wife, just as much as it reassured them. The duality of the feeling pulled at their emotions as they witnessed the extent of Michaela’s worries that she wasn’t—and couldn’t be—as good as the boys. That’s what most of her hyperactivity came down to. At least in their eyes.

“Michaela, love.” 

Bea’s words were as gentle as ever given the depths of her concern for the teenager. Her eyes caught the end of Michaela’s racing journal as it perched on the edge of her desk. Battered from her obsessive writings, Bea picked it up carefully to place it down carefully. 

As she turned back to her niece, Michaela’s tired eyes stared up at her, hands still gripped at the wheel of her simulator with the screen paused in wait. 

“It’s been ages since you got up.”

With a softness, her eyes conveyed the true weight behind her words. Michaela was more than aware her obsession with perfection worried her aunt, though she was unwilling to give it up. A relaxed sigh left her mouth as she rose from her chair, the simulator shutting down as Bea observed from her stance just across the room.

“Come eat, Travis has news.”

The casual words stunned Michaela more than she would be willing to relate. A knowing smile pulled at the corners of Bea’s mouth before she shrugged calmly. 

“I’m not sure what it’s about, but he was quite insistent you come down.”

Those words were all it took before Michaela rushed down the stairs, her hair flying behind her in a messy haze of brown and blonde curls, bouncing against the gravity of her run.

“Mickey?”

Travis’ voice beamed with excitement as he caught the attention of his excited niece. 

“We have a guest,” His head shook with a laugh. “Best behavior?” His pinky finger reached for Michaela’s own, an ill-fated attempt to calm her down before the unnamed guest presumably seated in their living room. 

A clear of her throat and a twist of their pinkies and Travis led her to the living room.

A full head of dark hair turned to face the overzealous 15-year-old clothed in a raggedy Lightning McQueen t-shirt. With a laugh, he stood to attention, and a hand reached out to shake hers. 

“René Rosin,” She exhaled with a breathiness that conveyed her amazement. A smile graced his features at her recognition, sure his decision had been reassured in that moment.

“I heard the Brits left you without a seat for next year.”

“Can you imagine?” She muttered, her smile never faltered despite her uncle’s clearance of his throat as a reminder of her ‘best behavior’ promise from just moments before.

“Sorry, I’m really—” 

She cut herself off as René raised a hand to signal he graced the comment. 

“When I found out, I can admit I was shocked beyond belief.” 

The team principal’s Italian accent bled beautifully into his words. Michaela almost found herself distracted by the flourishes he added to the end of his sentences as she hung on to every word he expressed to her. 

“How has your break been?”

Caught off guard by the question, Michaela shrugged her shoulders. With a nervous bite of her lip—terrified and in awe of the principal’s appearance in her living room—she chose her words wisely. 

“Unfulfilling. I miss the track.”

With a nod of his head, René exchanged a knowing glance with Travis who gently chuckled at his niece’s criticalness. 

Michaela’s mind spun at a mile a minute, an infinite number of scenarios of René’s next words ran through her consciousness. Hope was tussled with paranoia at the back of her mind. Hoping that this would be her moment of redemption but paranoid she would be put in her place once more. 

They got someone to convince me to give up.

The thought displaced her for a moment before she snapped back into reality. Her teeth chewed at the inside of her mouth and her fingers pressed into her palms. Both were nervous habits that didn’t escape Travis and Bea’s attention though they exchanged subtle smiles that completely escaped Michaela. With a gentle tap on her shoulder, Travis coaxed Michaela to stop her movement. The action reminded her to exist in the moment before her.

“How soon would you like to be back? Racing?” 

Michaela didn’t need the clarification he offered before she burst with attention.

“Tomorrow—today—I… I don’t care when. Just as soon as possible.” 

René chuckled again at her eagerness. With a clap of his hands that startled Michaela as much as it excited her, René cleared his throat.

“Then tomorrow, I’ll see you in Veneto.”

Michaela tilted her head in confusion, feeling as if she had missed a few words before the statement. 

“Sorry,” She stammered, paranoia crept back into her. “What—what do you mean? V-Veneto?”

His smile did little to calm her until his response accomplished the mission instead.

“How would you like to race for Prema in GP2?”

✼. view:⠀masterlist⠀⸻⠀join the taglist⠀⸻⠀request. ✼. taglist:⠀@cha-hot @certifiedlesbianbaddie @nichmeddar @d3kstar @thewannabewriter

[97keanu]

The Beast You’ve Made Of Me.

Premise: After moving to the town of San Dimas in 1990, you figured it was nothing more but a small town filled with like minded drama. You’ve been uprooted mid senior year because of your “behavioral problems”, as your mother would put it, and it hasn’t been easy fitting in. Lucky you, you find the one person there you can really trust, your sweet and loving boyfriend Ted. It’s the night of a big party out in the woods, one last hurrah before the end of your senior year, and you debut you and Ted as a couple. The drama from that gossip turns out to be the least of your worries when your boyfriend is dragged away mid smoke sesh by something from the woods. When he reappears later, distant, and uninterested in seeing you, you begin to wonder what’s really going on. You soon learn that the town of San Dimas, California is hiding more secrets than you thought.

One thing you know for sure, you have to be careful when the moon is full…

CW/Tags: Hurt, Angst, Ted/Evil!Ted/This is kind of a Jekyll and Hyde situation, Werewolf AU, stoner!ted + reader, cheerleader!reader, eventual smut, slowish burn, clueless!reader, sweet but sad!reader, longing, outcast!reader, small town gossip/drama, revenge flirting, angry/needy, p in v, knotting, dubcon, drunk!reader, biting, tasting blood, size kink, aftercare?, cuddling, slight mentions of breeding, cute ending/happy ending/comfort ending.

Words: 8.3k

꒰˵ˊPlaylistˋ˵꒱

“Isn't it supposed to rain tonight?” You overhear one of the other party goers say shyly as pewter clouds churn overhead.

“Yeah, but it ain’t raining yet!” One of the ‘future-frat-boy’ seniors belts out followed by the howls of his pack, otherwise known as the San Dimas football team.

“Well, you know what they say about being out on a full moon…” One of the popular girls complains in a whiny tone, allowing an in for the jocks to make fun of her which for all they know could be flirting.

“Ohhh, someone's scared of the big bad wolf?” They tease while mimicking wolfish noises loudly.

Despite the stars being blocked out by threatening storm clouds, the full moon rules bright between tuffs of gray, an amber ring echoing around it. You watch it, perplexed by its color, not watching your step as you hike towards the lodge. Your white converse hits an uncovered mossy root and for a second you think you will already start to embarrass yourself for the night by falling in front of everyone.

Then, a gentle hand helps to steady your elbow, the other resting on your lower back, your tight, cream crop top exposing the skin there.

“Hey, easy now…” You hear the soft tones of your boyfriend's voice whisper to you.

You turn towards him, a small smile pulling at the corners of your glossy lips as you look into his comforting brown eyes. He returns the smile and gives your cheek a gentle peck.

You and Ted haven’t been dating long, you didn’t have the chance to.

After everything that happened at your last school, your mother thought best to pull you out in the middle of your senior year and plant you here in San Dimas, California.

It was different from what you were used to, and in other ways all the same. The clique-y drama, rumors that somehow snowball out of control, and your mother’s expectations of you being the perfect preppy daughter, her highschool mini me. Only problem was the move and your reputation nullified any chance at being prom queen, valedictorian, or dating the quarterback. Hey, at least you managed to make the cheerleading squad and your grades up. That seemed to keep her off your back for the most part.

Sure, your mother still doesn’t know you are dating one of the San Dimas High School’s resident stoners, but she wouldn’t understand anyways. Ted was an escape from the prim and proper world of suburbia, someone who liked to have fun and be himself, not to mention completely head over heels for you. It felt good to be loved, felt good to have a home in him.

You watch as fairy lights cast a glow behind him, almost throwing a little halo in his dark brown hair. You feign confidence as members of the SDHS’s student body watch you walk in with Ted, a few whispers already happening behind red solo cups. As you two go through the cabin to the back yard, you can tell Ted notices your tension rise, and his thumb creates comforting circles on your skin.

“Say the word, and we’ll go.” His voice says low and slow in your ear, breath tickling you there.

You give a small head shake, and Ted nods, keeping on as if he has no worries. The happy-go-lucky energy he gives off calms you. You lean into him, sweeping your long ponytail away from your neck.

Up until now, Ted Logan had mainly been a secret you kept all to yourself, but the prying eyes around you could never make you doubt how good of a boyfriend he was. You were too in love not to be confident about that.

______

The bonfire that the football team constructed was actually quite impressive, you had to give them credit there since manual labor was their forte. You snuggle into Ted’s orange jacket that he’s wrapped around you, inhaling the scent of cheap body spray and marijuana. The warmth of the fire prickles your cheeks as Ted strategically toasts a marshmallow beside you. Your chin finds a home on his shoulder, relaxing into his body.

The chatter of the rest of the party drones on with bursts of laughter cutting up the monotones. You know that this isn’t the usual crowd for Ted, but he seems at home as ever, whispering little jokes to you as he enjoys the night despite cross looks from others. You’re sure there will be more talk on Monday about how you don’t deserve to be on the cheer squad if you’re going to be hanging out with burnouts and stoners like Ted Logan, but that doesn't matter. It was only a week before the end of the year, and then you’d be free of highschool forever. Tonight, you were going to enjoy being a senior with your boyfriend without shame.

”Hey,” Ted leans into you, holding out a perfectly brown marshmallow and gently popping it in your mouth when you open it. “Do you wanna go smoke? There’s a little dock to the lake that I know…”

He looks at you with a shy half-smile, and despite the fact that he knows you like getting high just as much as him, he still acts nervous to ask one of the cheerleaders to do something so improper. You nod, mouth full of sweet marshmallow fluff, and let him help you stand up. No one really notices when the two of you slip away from the beacon of light and into the dark forest full of summer greens.

Ted guides you, the trail a bit hard to see in the dark, but not impossible.

“It’s not too far away from here,” You hear him say beside you, as well as the other night noises of the forest humming along.

You let him take your hand into his warm one, an arm wrapped around the small of your waist to keep you safe from almost falling once more. You don’t know what it is about Ted, but you just trust him. Like, completely, utterly trust him despite only knowing him for a few months. He’s not like the other boys at school, who you have to watch your drink with, have to be careful of ending up alone with. No, Ted really only has your best interest in mind, and you feel safe with him right now.

That’s why when you hear a low howl off in the distance you cling into his body, freezing up for a moment.

“What was that?” You say, trying not to let the tinge of panic rise in your voice.

“Probably just a coyote,” Ted starts to explain, his voice soft and soothing.

“It sounded like a wolf…” You whisper as another howl responds to the first.

“Wolves aren’t usually out this way,” Ted reassures with a small laugh. “And we’re only a five minute walk away from everyone else. Three if we run.”

“Do we have to run?” You try to look up at his face, but the moonlight is concealed by the clouds at the moment, so all you see is shadows.

“No, no,” He backpedaled. “We’re going to be fine, babe. Just the sounds of the forest, is all.”

You feel his hand gently rubbing your back, and the motion calms you down. You take a deep breath, and let him keep walking you forward. Soon enough, you walk through a clearing, and the world seems to open up once more from the claustrophobia of the forest.

The lake ebbs and flows, making splashing noises against the dark rocks on its coast. You can barely tell what’s in there, the water a deep color of black, small sparklings shining off as the moon begins to find its way out once more.

Your shoes knock against the wood of the docks, creaking as you make your way down, eyes starting to get used to the dark. You take a seat at the end letting your legs dangle off the edge. You settle in, slipping your converse and socks off, your feet dipping into the cool water. Your previous fear in the forest starts to settle down as you listen to the calming waters.

Ted gently opens his jacket that you’re still wearing, and pulls a joint and a lighter from the inner pocket, giving you a kiss after as if he’s thankful that you let him grab it. You watch as his face lights up from the small orange glow of the lighter, the joint hanging lazily out of the corner of his mouth. For a second, you feel a blush coming up to your cheeks as you appreciate how adorable he looks.

He takes a deep inhale of the joint, holding it in for a second, then coming closer. You know what he wants to do, and welcome his soft, full lips onto yours. He parts your lips slowly, letting you feel the smoke from his lungs exhale into yours, tendrils of smoke floating up from the spaces your lips didn’t fully close around. You let his air fill your lungs, then deepen the kiss while trying not to let any spill out. Finally, you must pull away, breathing out once more and feeling heat in more than just your cheeks.

This little ritual of yours continues until you hear something rustling in the brush behind you. Your eyes feel warm and heavy, and you slowly turn your attention towards the sound, the dark of the night keeping whatever’s there hidden.

“Did you hear that?” You say without turning towards Ted.

“Hear what?” Ted’s voice is soft and lazy.

You say nothing, trying to force your ears to hear something within the hum of the night. The feeling of the hair on the back of your neck raises, a sense of being watched beginning to flood your body.

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

“I think someone’s out there…” You try to speak as quietly as possible.

“Probably someone else from the party trying to find somewhere quiet.” Ted whispers back, then calls out towards the noise. “Hey! Spot already taken, find a new one, dudes!”

You know your boyfriend isn’t trying to be dismissive, not trying to make the fear in you rise, but you find yourself trying to hush him anyways. He stands from the edge of the dock, and you find yourself pulling your feet from the lake, water dripping onto the wood.

A low growl escapes the tree line.

“Ted, I don’t think that’s another student.” Your hands are already clutching his forearm, and with another snarl from the darkness, you feel Ted take a step back.

Both of you are wordless, unmoving as a pair of yellow eyes glint in the moonlight from the overgrown brush.

“Ted…” You don’t know what he could even do, but he was your only solace now as the blood in your body beats harder.

Those yellow eyes flick towards you, the sound of your voice and the tremble in your legs already sorting you out as the weaker one. Ted’s arm pulls over your chest protectively, and feel his body brace.

“Can you swim?” His never serious tone has flipped on its head.

“Y-yes.” Is all you can say, fear taking hold in your legs, freezing them to the spot.

You don’t have much time to think as something your eyes can’t even comprehend stalks from the forest towards you. It had the face of a wolf, muzzle too long, teeth too sharp, body too human. Its teeth are bared and ready, hands ending in dark, thick claws. In the split second before its legs are ready to pounce, you feel Ted’s arm push against your chest.

In one moment, you’re frozen to your spot, fear pulsing through you as this creature breaks out in a run, eyes set on you. In the next, the cold, dark lake is taking the breath from your lungs and you watch helplessly as Ted intervenes the wolf from chasing after you. Just as you sink under the blanket of water around you, those sharp, white teeth are glinting in the moonlight and sinking into the shoulder of your boyfriend. Your lovely, sweet, kind boyfriend.

Water fills your mouth, preventing the scream from escaping.

You don’t even want to resurface, don’t even want to fight, but you know you must. Your muscles tense with strength you don’t want to give, arms wildly clutching for support you can’t find. You break through the water with a gasp, choking out the disgusting, earthy taste of the lake from your throat. Your eyes try to find your boyfriend in the darkness, your ears already hear his screaming being dragged farther and farther away from you, snarls interjecting until you hear nothing.

The moon shines down on you, a silent watcher to the night events. The sound of the water slapping against the dock and the cicadas calling out is all you can make out. The horror filling inside you has no escape, nowhere to go, falling deeper and deeper into the pit of your stomach. You float aimlessly, and when you find yourself on shaking legs, gingerly stepping out of the water, you can’t even remember how you got there.

When you stumble back towards the noise of the party, the warm light of the bonfire, no one even notices at first as you make your way there. Your arms held tight around each other, Ted’s orange jacket cold and stuck to your wet skin. Your short, flowy skirt is now suctioned against your bare thighs, and your ponytail drips down your back. You don’t even notice Ted’s blood mixing with lake water on your legs. An arm on your shoulder stops your shuttering walk, and you turn to see the concerned faces of the rest of the party.

“What happened?” One of them asks, concern genuine.

“Oh my god, is that blood?” Someone recoils from the sight.

“You’re soaking wet, where were you?” Along with other hushed inquiries.

You try to speak, but your lip just quivers without answers. The world seems too bright and big by the fire, too many faces in the sea of people beginning to huddle around you, and you doubt even half of them care about you for more than just the gossip. You recoil from hands that are seemingly forever trying to guide you somewhere.

“It…got him.” Is all you could muster as you’ve somehow found yourself sat in the dirt by the fire.

Silence follows after you speak, then hushed tones create a simmering symphony in the small crowd.

“Who? That-that…” they try to remember who you came to the party with, but you know this crowd never even cared to learn Ted’s name. “That boy you were with?”

You don’t get time to answer as a scream breaks out from the edge of the crowd.

“It’s him!” You hear a few people call.

The crowd thins out to look at what new, shiny piece of gossip for Monday they can find, and that’s when you see him.

Ted.

Your loving, wonderful boyfriend, stumbling in from the tree line. You stand, dry dirt caked on your legs, creating stains you’ll never be able to explain to your mom. You don’t even know what to do at first, you watch, feeling as if you’re looking at a ghost. You were so sure he was gone. Tears prick your red eyes, and soon enough they’re falling down your face as you’re running to him.

You see the weariness in Ted’s tired, dark eyes, his mop of brown hair haphazardly in his face, and he leans into you for support when you reach him. You can see the rips in his shirt, see the blood looking black as night, so you reach up a worried hand to apply pressure to his shoulder. All you feel is smooth, tan skin under your fingertips.

“Ted?” Worry furrows your brow.

“I’m alright,” his breath seems heavy, skin sweaty to the touch.

He looks up and sees the crowd, and to your surprise you see his teeth bared, from pain or something else, you don’t know. Then he speaks, low, almost growling, to you.

“Let’s get out of here.”

–-----

You expect the last Monday before summer to be a buzz with rumors of Friday night, that when you walk into school there will be looks, questions, people who can't even begin to understand what really happened out there. As you pass the threshold into the hot halls of San Dimas High, it's as if people are recoiling from you.

Lockers are shut, whispers halt mid sentence, and no one wants to look you in the eye. You feel completely outcast from even pretending to be normal.

What's worse, you haven't heard from Ted since you dropped him off at his house. You haven’t even returned his rusty old van, and he loves that van. You called his line a million times, and no one picked up, not even his dad to tell you to stop calling so much. Helpless doesn't even begin to describe how you feel.

You know how he looked when you dropped him off. Sweat dripping from his hair, his body hot to the touch, hotter than you thought possible. He would try to suppress groans as he directed you to his house, yet insisted on not taking him to the hospital. He stumbled into his door, slamming it behind him before you could even push your way in. You stood there, hair still wet, the cicadas singing a sad chorus to how pitiful you felt.

That was the last time you saw him.

Now, on Monday, as you approach the locker you traded with someone to be closer to his, you half expect him to be there, goofy grin and all making your morning better. Of course, there his locker was, plastered in band stickers and graffiti and…lonely. You hold Ted’s orange jacket closer to you, not having taken it off since Friday. You know how it must look, but you need it. Need to feel like he’s here with you, smell his cheap cologne on the collar, fiddle with the old bic lighter in the pocket.

You feel all eyes on you as you put your things away, but no one says a word. You feel as if you may burst into tears right there from the stress of it all when the bell rings, making you jump. Everyone knows you’re on edge now.

Classes go on, and the silence gets less and less. By lunch, hushed rumors are stirring as you try to find somewhere to sit in peace. You consider taking your tray of unappealing slop to the cheerleaders table, but of course, your typical spot is taken by someone else, signaling that you’re unwelcome. You find half of a table to sit at, and try to make it seem like you're busy by pushing around your food and gingerly biting into a red apple. It tastes like mush.

“I don’t think we'll see him before the end of school.”

“My dad says this happens every few years…”

“Yeah! Mine said his cousin went out on a full moon when they were kids and never came back…”

“Well, I guess the San Dimas curse strikes again.”

“You don't really believe that do you?”

“Either way, that guy’s probably dead.”

“Not that big of a loss, he was a burn out anyways.”

You're standing before you know it, sick of listening to everyone speculate on the person you love most, the only person here who ever cared to get to know who you really were underneath it all. Your tray is promptly dumped and the cafeteria goes hush as you walk with tears falling down your cheeks. You burst through the large, metal doors, and your sneakers squeak as they take you away.

Soon enough, you’re ditching. You know it’s more than possible that your mother will hear about this, and of course, berate you for old habits. If you’re lucky, maybe they won’t care at the end of the year. Either way, you have to know, have to find the answers that kept you from finding a wink of sleep these past 48 hours. You burst out of the school into the hot, humid air outside. Everything smells thick after the rain of the weekend, petrichor and musky. You don’t even have a car, you just let your feet beat on the hot pavement towards Ted’s house.

You two have walked back to his place countless times since you moved here, especially since you could never take him back to your house. The world is a blur of neighborhoods and mid-afternoon traffic. You don’t stop until your hand is raised at Ted’s door, ready to pound, but before you can even lay a knuckle there, the door opens, just a slice.

“Ted?” You whisper, knowing his dad is at work now, and his little brother in school.

A moment passes without a word from the otherside of the door. Maybe his dad is home, maybe something bad really did happen. You hope more than anything it’s him.

”I can’t come out.” You hear his voice, raspy and low, and for a moment you don’t think it’s really him.

“What?” You ask puzzled, moving your head to try to get a better look inside the small sliver of door that’s open. “What do you mean? Are you okay?”

“I’m not feeling well. I don’t want to…” He pauses for a long moment. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Hurt me? What the hell does he mean by that?

“Ted, you won’t hurt me, I don’t care if you’re sick, I just wanna make sure you’re okay!” You begin to ramble, anything that keeps him talking, and potentially lets you see him.

“Go home, babe.” You can tell it kills him to say it, his voice choking up, those three words getting caught in his throat.

“I’m not going home until you tell me what’s going on, Ted Logan!” You stomp your foot without even thinking, folding your arms across your chest.

Ted says nothing. In fact, he does the single most heartbreaking thing you can think of.

He closes the door.

“Ted!” You yell, you pound on the door.

There is no response.

No matter how much you call for him, he ignores you, so you say the only thing you can think that might get to him.

“Ted, you open this door right this minute or we are OVER!”

The door swings open.

Ted, standing there in only his sweatpants, dark circles under his eyes, looking more tired than you could imagine a 18 year old boy could look. His hair is damp, plastered to his forehead as if feverish. His breath is heaving. He looks nothing like your sweet, gentle boyfriend you’ve come to know and love.

“I said,” He speaks to you in a tone he’s never done before, half begging, half demanding. “Leave…”

You stand there, confused, mouth open, unsure what to say, but not moving.

“Leave!” He snarls again, louder, hand hitting the doorframe loudly, making you flinch.

As cruel as his voice is being with you right now, his eyes say something different. He looks as if it’s all he can do to get you away from him, truly believing it for your own good.

You begin to speak, and Ted turns rapidly, slamming the front door with all his might, house seeming to shake from the impact.

That was it.

That was all you could do. Come here, try to help him, but if he wanted you away, then he got it.

You turn, walking down the sidewalk with your arms around yourself, shame and embarrassment and heartbreak heating your face and ears. You suppose you’ve lost your boyfriend after that, and over god knows what. You don’t understand what’s happening at all. You thought you did everything a good girlfriend would, but maybe you made a mistake. And even if you did, could you two not talk about it? You let out a half sob as the pain in your heart tenses up, holding your breath to try to keep it in until you can safely let it all out.

Tears of hurt and anger slip down your face. Frustrated, you make your way home.

That was the last time you saw Ted Logan, for a while, at least.

————

The end of your senior year came and went. The talk died down, and just like predicted, Ted never returned to school for his final days. You knew he was alive, at the very least, but nothing else.

Graduation took place on a Saturday, a week or so after the last day. Everyone else cheered, watched as the schools wolf mascot was finally revealed to be some half popular nerd, the valedictorian gave a speech about how the best days of our lives were yet to come, threw their caps in the air when it was all said and done.

You sat, holding your diploma and hat, finger tracing the square edge while thinking about how Ted was supposed to be here. You two worked so hard to get his grades up so he could pass and his dad wouldn’t send him away to Alaska for military school. Maybe he really went through with that threat, for all you knew.

Either way, it had been a month since you had seen Ted Logan.

A month of lonely nights, your hidden stash of weed getting smaller and smaller as you self medicate in your room, and still you think of him. You blow smoke out the window at night, sometimes thinking you heard the sounds of rustling leaves out there, then dismissing it.

Who would want to stalk around your suburban home anyways?

————

You soon got tired of being holed up in the house all summer, and find it surprisingly easy to call up some of your old school friends to see what everyone else has been up to. You thought after everything that went down last time, you would be a social outcast. Turns out, they were more than willingly to invite you, some even more than vocal about wondering where you’d been. You know they have no real care for your wellbeing, but decide to go to one of the jocks upcoming parties.

And that’s how you find yourself anxious to see anyone other than your mother on a Friday night. You curl the ends of your high ponytail so the curls bounce at the nape of your neck, blow drying a mess of bangs in the front until they look pristine. A baby blue mini dress and some pumps later, and you’re feeling a bit more like yourself for the first time in a while. You finish everything off with a bow on your hair tie the color of marshmallows.

Soon enough, you’re driving to the outskirts of San Dimas, letting the A/C keep you cool on this June night. Some farm boy jock was hosting a barn party way out here, and you knew it was probably stupid to come. Best case, everyone feels to awkward to interact with you, worst case, they ask you questions incessantly about Ted’s disappearance and the last outing you were at.

Still, somehow, you tell yourself, this is better than Friday night alone watching reruns on the family T.V.

The moon is almost full, an orange hue clear and bright in the sky, it’s light guiding you to your destination.

It is easier than you thought to find your way there, despite not knowing the area. A few wrong turns and a right, and you’re pulling into the grass front lawn with 20 other cars or so. The barn is already lit up, spilling light and sound from inside. You open your door, struck with the heat of the night, already feeling your makeup begin to melt into your skin. Heels weren’t the best idea for the terrain, but at least you looked hot.

You pass a few straggling people hanging on the front porch of the old farm house, and one calls you over.

“Hey!” You see a few semi familiar faces, but hardly know them other than going to school together for the last few months.

They seem to know you though, so you walk up the groaning old wooden steps, and smile. Before you can even speak, one of the girls interrupts, as if she would explode if she didn’t say it.

“So, you like, have no idea about the San Dimas curse, huh?”

”Come on, Jenny, don’t get into that.” Her presumed boyfriend groans, and ‘Jenny’ keeps going.

“No, but for real, like you’re new so you wouldn’t know right?” You can see she’s dying to tell you more, so you simply shake you head.

“Curse? What curse?” You try to say casually, your interest piqued, but not wanting to show it.

“Oh here we go…!” Another girl groans, then reaches into a cooler next to her, handing you a can of beer. “Here, you’ll need this to get through this one.”

Everyone laughs before Jenny gets their attention back.

“Hey! Hey! She’s the newbie, so she deserves to know, especially after everything that happened…” As she trails, everyone looks to see your reaction, but you’re looking down at the condensation on the cold can.

“Alright, well, I’m all ears.” You shrug, looking back up, meeting their eyes.

“So,” Jenny turns serious. “San Dimas has this, like, ‘curse’, right? I mean, we don’t really know what else to call it, but that seems right enough.”

“Anyways, every ten years or so, someone goes missing. Not that unusual, sure, that just happens sometimes, but it seems to happen like clock work, okay?” Her blue eyes are big, like she really believes this, but the crowd still has unsure snickers of doubt. “Well, that’s not the only odd part, is it? No, because it happens whenever the moon is full-“

A jock grabs his buddy and annoyingly cuts Jenny off with a howl.

“Hush! It’s true, okay! They always go missing during the full moon. Always in the woods, always mysteriously. Not to mention, the sightings!” Jenny continues, trying to tame the crowd in her favor. “Folks say there’s something stalking out in those woods, something big, something not human. Say it’s got claws, teeth sharper than a dogs, head like a-“

“Oh yes, the werewolf sightings, told by old men who don’t even remember what they saw out there.” A few agreeable sounds follow the jocks interruption.

“Well, that’s what I’m saying! She saw it!” Jenny points to you like you’re her key to all this, her evidence that the curse is real. “You did, didn’t you? What did you see out there when that thing took your boyfriend?”

All eyes turn to you, all curious to hear, to know what you really saw. Dark flashes from that night bubble up in your mind, flashes of that beast, biting into Ted and dragging him away. You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. Just as you might have had an answer on the tip of your tongue, someone interrupts you.

“You don’t really believe those old stories do you?” You turn, your heart already racing at the sound of that voice.

His voice.

Ted Logan stands on the porch of the old farm house with a grin. Everyone is silent as Ted’s eyes graze across your body, practically eating you up where you stand. The yellow of the naked bulb above seeps into his dark eyes, and for a second you think there’s something wrong with them. No, must be the lights, playing tricks on your eyes. Ted watches you closely, examining your reaction.

“Besides, not much of a curse when the ‘missing person’ is right here.” Another voice joins Ted, and you notice someone with Ted.

Everyone waits to see where this will go, the social pressure to speak building up in you. Ted always knew you hated being the center of attention like this, and you watch as he smirks at your unease, almost exuding cockiness, but you can’t believe it. Your Ted Logan? He would never act in such a way…

Ted holds out a hand.

“Why don’t we speak somewhere more privately.” His voice is more serious now, tone lower.

You know you should just stay here, ignore him after everything he’s done, but you find your hand in his warm, large one, leading you away. Your heels click off the porch onto the grass as the crowd you’ve left begins to dissect what’s just happened. The man Ted arrived with follows, and you frown towards his direction.

“Who is he?” Your eyes narrow at the stranger, hair bouncing as you walk towards the back of the barn with them.

“He’s my…my…” Ted can’t seem to find the right word..

“Cousin.” The other responds, a devilish grin on his lips.

“R-right! Cousin!” Ted affirms. “This is Bill.”

Cousin? This guy was like a foot shorter than Ted, big blue eyes, and a mess of blond curls on top. They looked nothing alike, and yet, there was something…An aura of sorts, if you had to describe it. Something that seemed to link the two, either in attitudes or something else your basic senses couldn’t pick up on. Either way, you doubted more than anything they were cousins, and you were going to get to the bottom of this one way or another.

”I don’t know who you think you are showing up out of nowhere like nothing happened, Ted!” You hiss in his direction as you all round the corner of the barn, and Bill snickers at your remark.

“Relax, babe, can’t you just be happy to see me?” Ted scoffs at your attitude, making your rage grow.

You can’t help yourself, you slap him.

Your hand leaves a hot mark behind on his cheek,

“Babe? That’s what you think you’re going to call me after dropping me for a month? Let me worry about if you’re hurt, if you’re sick, if dead? No, you don’t get to call me that, Ted, that’s reserved for boyfriends who actually give a fuck to contact their girlfriends after being dragged into the woods by a damn wolf!” The anger is really welling up inside you now, but you can’t stop it, not now.

“So, no, you don’t get to call me babe after all that! As far as I’m concerned, we are not dating anymore!” You could keep going but the way Ted’s looking at you has you stopping in your tracks.

“Wouldn’t have done that if I were you…” Bill chuckles behind Ted, lighting a cigarette without much care for how the situation goes.

Ted, however, is shaking. No, not shaking, vibrating. He stares you down through thick strands of dark hair, breath heaving, shoulders raised, looking at you as if he wanted to tear you apart. The moonlight casts shadows on his face that make something in your stomach churn with a moment of true fear.

A deep growl echoes from somewhere inside his chest, and Bill puts a hand on his shoulder. Bill looks you in the eyes with his icy blues and throws a nod towards the rest of civilization out here.

“You should go back to the party now, girlie.” He says with a fake smile at the end, dropping it and whispering something into Ted’s ear that makes him back off.

The two of them turn and walk deeper into the darkness, and you’re left standing there once again.

————

Anger is still coursing through your veins, your head not thinking properly. You don’t even want to go home, you want release from all of this. You want something different, anything.

You rejoin the party in the barn this time, and the crowd dances to music someone has set up out here. It doesn’t matter to you much what’s playing as long as it’s loud and it’s fast. You walk over to a table that hosts various amounts of liquor and find yourself a few shots deep very quickly. Heat pours through your veins, making you feel tingly all over as the alcohol begins to hit, and you join the crowd.

It doesn’t take long for you to feel the beat, winding your body in ways that you haven’t done in months now, your dress riding up shorter and shorter as you go. Soon enough, someone’s hands have caught your hips and begun grinding them into their crotch. You don’t recoil, instead, grinding back, letting their mouth find a home at your neck. If you and Ted really were broken up now, then you might as well have some fun.

You let the strangers hands wander your body, groping where they please, enjoying how the liquor feels when you move against another warm body. Sweat begins to prick your skin as you continue, and soon your mysterious stranger is whispering filthy things in your ears. Things you and Ted never even got around to doing since he used to be shy about such things, which you also used to find cute.

Now, it was like you didn’t even know him.

You shake your head with anger as the thought of Ted comes back up, trying to get back into the groove with your dance partner, but of course that too is interrupted when he is forcibly pulled from you. You pause mid dance, confusion filling your drunk mind. You turn on wobbly heels, and see those eyes, and this time it can’t be the lights making them so yellow.

Ted grabs your wrist, pulling you into his body, glowering at you.

“That’s how you’re going to get back at me?” He snidely whispers in your ear.

“What? Not like you wanted me anymore, anyways.” You cruelly throw back, turning your nose up at him to leave.

He holds you fast.

“Who said I didn’t want you anymore…?” His voice almost sounds hurt, and you try to get a read on his face.

For a second, you’re almost convinced the old Ted was back by how soft he looked right now.

You open your mouth to retaliate anyways, spiteful as always, just like your mother always warned about, but instead, Ted pulls you even closer, until your lips are almost touching, his breath mingling with yours, eyes staring deep into your soul.

“Trust me,” His voice is smoother now, hot and full of want. “I want you.”

You blink, trying to make sense of the situation, but with the alcohol pumping through your system and a history of bad decisions, you can’t stop yourself. You let your lips graze his, not even full on kissing him, just giving permission. And that’s enough for Ted.

Enough for him to let his soft, warm, silky lips crush against yours, the want so strong he has to hold himself back with every muscle in his body, arms clutching you tightly. He devours you with his kiss, and it’s almost hard for you to keep up with his lips. He pulls you onto his leg, spreading your thighs so you can ride him there, your dress now fully exposing your ass and pale blue checkered panties. His hands grip your hips, pulling you towards him and away, letting his bent knee create friction down there.

It takes everything inside you to pull away from his kiss, your chest heaving and almost ready to fall out of your dress at this rate.

“Not-Not…” You say breathlessly as you notice a few prying eyes in the crowd. “Not here…”

Ted gives you a look that sends a chill straight to your pussy.

A look that says “I would fuck you right here, right now, in front of everyone if you just gave me permission.”

And even worse.

“I might do it anyway if you don’t get us out of here quickly.”

You’re stumbling out into the woods outside of the barn before you know it. Ted half carries you the whole time, your legs wrapped around his waist as he takes you deeper away from everyone else. Your head knows this is dangerous, knows something about Ted is off, something is wrong, but you need this. You’ve been needing this, ever since he left. Maybe even before then.

Your back ends up crushed against a tree, the bark scraping against your bare shoulders there. Ted breathes heavily into your neck, no, not breathing. Inhaling. Smelling you so deeply before a moan escapes his lips.

“Fuck…” He growls in your ear. “Fuck, I-I need you so bad…”

It’s as if he can’t even get the right words out to describe it, as if it’s painful how badly he needs to fuck you. He’s hungry for you in ways you couldn’t begin to understand.

He grinds himself between your legs, and you can feel how hard he is against your pussy and stomach. His hands go down your shoulders, and you wonder when his nails got so long, the feeling of them almost clawing into your skin turning you on. He quickly pulls your dress down, exposing your breasts to his hands, where he gropes you deeply, the softness of your skin contrasting his.

You let his tongue linger in your mouth, tasting him deeply as he ruts against you, cock needing to be released. You help him, hands drunk and fumbling with his belt. Once his cock is out, you feel the head with your hand, and for a moment, you can hardly believe how big it is.

Ted’s kissing on your neck deepens, teeth grazing the skin there as you stroke his thick cock, using both hands and letting him support your weight. You don’t remember his teeth being so long, not to mention sharp, and just as your thinking of pulling way to get a better look at him, as his growling begins to reach a breaking point, you feel his teeth graze too deeply, biting into the tender flesh of your throat.

You let out a whimper, the feeling of pain mixing with pleasure. Ted takes this as an invitation, hand reaching down to your panties, and with one claw, tearing them in two. You shudder at the thought of how sharp they are and being so close to your most private parts as he checks how wet you are with one finger.

Ted pulls back from where he’s left a mark on your neck, looking you in the eyes. His face has changed, his eyes bright yellow, his teeth on full display and sporting your blood. Others may have screamed, tried to free themselves from his grip, but the monstrous look he was sporting had you weak in the knees. You shudder with pleasure as he places his cock at your entrance, the tip feeling way too big to fit even before it’s in. He seems to pause, for a just a moment, as if the human part of him can hold back just barely.

He’s waiting for you to say yes.

You nod with wanton want, and that’s all it takes. His cock is entering you, a tight fit that leaves you moaning in pain and pleasure as it stretches you beyond what you thought your limits were. You grip his back, feeling yourself already full without even having the entirety of his cock inside of you yet. What little of himself he could hold back before is gone now as he takes one small pull back from being inside you, and slams the force of his cock back where he left and then some. You cry out, trying to move to accommodate such a hefty cock, but failing.

You slip one hand down to your clit to try to tame the pain into pleasure once more, Ted’s cock filling you again and again as he takes you right there in the woods. Your hand circles your clit as best as you can, feeling yourself relax into the process of being fucked by an animal of a man.

Ted’s cock seems to grow even bigger inside of you, the base swelling as he fucks you, making it harder and harder for him to pull out of you. It’s as if you’re being infinitely filled by him as he clumsily tries to fuck you harder. His growls deepen, and as he gets closer he sinks his teeth back into the half moons he left in your shoulder earlier. You cry out as he tastes you, practically tearing you in two with his cock and his teeth, but shudder closer to climax from it all. You furiously play with yourself, free hand gripping your own breast as if the action could hold you in, hold you together for just a few more moments of the pleasure his cock fills you with at the moment.

You buck into him, his cock rutting deeper and deeper, no thoughts of the fact that he’s about to spill his seed inside you without protection, no thoughts of the teeth in your shoulder that tries to hold you still to be fucked. Only that blissful feeling of being so full you can hardly take it. So stretched out and how well that feels when you play with your clit just like that. It brings you closer and closer until you’re spilling over the edge, spamming on his cock that breeds itself into you without care.

As if he’d been waiting for you to finish, before you’ve even finished cumming the first time, Ted growls deeper than you’ve heard all night, jaw locking into your shoulder and popping his growing knot deep enough it won’t come out into you. You keep your hand busy on your clit, not ready to give this up with just one round just yet, as Ted cums deeply inside you. It’s hot, thick, and filling somewhere you’ve never been filled before. You feel it begin to seep out around his knot despite his best efforts to keep you filled, the amount of cum just too much for your body. You lose yourself in the feeling, cumming again, pussy spasming and tightening against his cock.

Worn out and overstimulated, you feel yourself being pulled from the tree. You fall on top of Ted, his knot still wedged deeply inside you with no hope of coming out soon. You straddle his body, where he lays against the dirt of the forest, breathless and staring up at the moon. It takes him a few breaths to look at you.

“So,” You say, chest heavy and pussy throbbing. “You’re a werewolf?”

He gulps in air, and almost tries to speak, then just nods, staring at you for your reaction.

After everything, you look at your boyfriend. You see his puppy dog eyes, his soft lips pursed slightly with worry, that shaggy overgrown hair. You consider it all.

“Okay.” You say affirmatively.

“Okay?” His voice is full of husk and confusion.

“Okay. Werewolf. I can deal with that.” You smile only slightly, and Ted smiles back, the Ted you know and love shining before you.

He pulls you in, tongue lapping at your neck where he bit you, and to your surprise, the bite begins to heal itself quite quickly.

“Werewolf powers.” You whisper to him and he laughs. ”Guess the San Dimas curse is true.”

“Guess I found out the hard way.” Ted whispers, half joking, half pained by the situation.

You two lay there, the moonlight devouring the scene beneath it, breathless and full. Ted’s cock throbs so deeply in your pussy you can’t imagine a time it wasn’t there. The exquisite feeling of fullness has you on cloud nine, and you can’t help but love the feeling of being so close in his arms. The way his languid hands slowly run circles on your back, the relaxed feeling of his softness almost overwhelming you along with every other sensation. You feel tears begin to well up as a release of emotions comes over you.

Ted hears a small sob hiccup in your throat, and holds you even closer, your face buried in his neck. You don’t even need anything to tell you that your soft, sweet, kind Ted was coming out now, you just knew. You knew the way he held you on top of him, letting all your weight into his body, the way his hands comforted you in ways no one else could.

You pull your face away from his, and he kisses your forehead, your cheeks, kisses up every tear that’s fallen. His lips move against your skin, his breath tickling your face, and soon enough you realize he’s whispering something.

You can’t tell what until he kisses your ears, lingering there.

“I’m so sorry, I couldn’t tell you, I didn’t know how…” Pain seeps out of every word.

You pull his face back to yours so you can look into those brown eyes of his.

“Ted ‘Theodore’ Logan, don’t you ever lie to me again, you hear me?” You say sternly, and he nods, tears now welling up in his eyes, but not yet fallen.

“Never.” He promises, and somehow you know it to be true.

You collapse into his chest, letting the emotions of the night overcome you, Ted there to comfort you through it all. You fall mindlessly asleep, worn out and waiting for Ted’s knot to go down. You still can’t believe your boyfriend is a werewolf, but at least you got him back.

At some point, Ted takes you home, somehow transporting you all the way without waking you until the very end. You wake in the middle of being placed into his bed.

He pushes your bangs out of your face gently, kisses your forehead, then climbs into bed next you, letting your body relax into his before the two of you begin to gently fall back asleep. You hear him whisper in your ear before you fall asleep.

“I love you.”

[finnsbubblegum]

I’m Sorry (Joel Miller X Reader)

Pairing: no-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader

Warnings: car accident, miscarriages (let me know if i missed any)

Summary (Series): reader as Joel’s neighbor. Joel’s wife left him so Joel asked his neighbor for help in babysitting Sarah. 

Words count: 1.7k

A/N: I’m trying to make this as a rom-com, hope you like my new series! This is part 15 of Where It All Starts. But it can also be read as a standalone. I'm so grateful for all of you! Thank you for your comments, reblogs, and likes ❤️ There are still more chapters for this series so stay tuned! Love you!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Epilogue

“Should we go to my parents house this weekend and tell them?” You were sitting on the exam bed while waiting for the doctor to print your sonogram picture.

“Yeah, that’s a great idea.” Joel nodded.

“Sorry it took so long. Here, I printed five for you. And don’t forget to get the vitamins at the pharmacy before you leave.” The doctor passed you the sonogram pictures and a prescription.

“Thank you, doc.” You and Joel thanked her.

“You’re welcome. I’ll see you on our next appointment.” She smiled.

“Do you want to wait here and sit while I get this?” Joel raised the prescription. 

“I’ll come with you.” You linked your arms to Joel’s.

“Hi, Joel.” A familiar woman and man stopped in front of the two of you.

Joel sighed. He didn’t expect to meet his ex-wife and her boyfriend again. At the obgyn in all of the places? 

“Hi.” You greeted them with a forced smile.

“Congratulations to both of you.” She pointed at the sonogram picture in Joel’s hand.

“Thank you.” You looked at her while you rubbed Joel’s arms.

“Congratulations to you too.” You pointed your eyes to her protruding belly.

Joel’s ex-wife was pregnant with her current boyfriend. She was bigger than you so it was obvious.

“I hope you’ll be a good mom this time.” Joel sarcastically said to his ex-wife. 

Even though it had been a few years, he was still hurt by her and he still hated her. He could never forgive her for what she had done. She failed her daughter but why did God give her a second chance to be a mother? He wondered. Life was not fair.

“It’s okay.” She grabbed her boyfriend's wrist as he stepped forward to Joel almost starting a fight.

“I will, Joel. I’m sorry. I hope to see Sarah sometime.” She brought up Sarah.

Joel groaned and rolled his eyes. You rubbed his arms with your thumb to calm him.

“Sure, we can set a time.” You smiled at her.

Joel turned his head to you and widened his eyes. He wanted to make his ex wife suffer by not allowing her to meet her daughter. 

“Thank you, (y/n). I hope you and your baby are healthy.” She put her hands on your upper arm.

“You too.” You smiled and parted ways.

In the car

“You okay, there?” You asked Joel as he was quiet since your meeting with his ex-wife.

He stayed quiet, not answering you.

“Joel, baby?” You called him.

He only hummed and looked straight while driving.

“I get it. You’re mad at me.” You nodded, holding the seatbelt on your chest.

“Yes, I’m mad at you. What the fuck was that?!” He raised his voice.

You trembled. Hands gripping your seatbelt tighter.

“You’ll let her see Sarah?!” He hit the steering wheel.

“I’m sorry. I just thought-I’m pregnant now and I know how a mother is connected to her baby. She grew Sarah inside her for 9 months, Joel.” You started sobbing.

“Don’t you dare cry now.” Joel growled.

“Joel, please. I’m sorry.” You cried.

“Fine, I’ll call her and tell her she can’t see Sarah anymore. If that’s what you want.” You took out your phone.

“Don’t.” Joel started driving faster.

“What do I do? What do you want me to do?” You sobbed.

Joel cleared his throat and didn’t answer you.

“Joel! Slow down! You’re gonna get us killed!” You screamed.

He kept on pressing the gas pedal and speeding up.

“Joel! Please! Stop the car! Stop it!” You cried as you screamed.

Joel hit the brake suddenly as he saw the red light. You panted as the car stopped so suddenly. Then the light turned green and Joel pressed on the gas pedal again.

"Baby, I'm sor-" Joel didn't finish his sentence. 

*car crash*

A speeding car suddenly crashed from the left side. Joel’s reflex tried his best to turn the car avoiding the crash but the car turned in circles. You screamed as the car turned. Your hand instinctively wrapped around your belly protecting your baby inside your belly. You hit your head as the car crashed. You and Joel blacked out for a moment. 

“Baby..” Joel opened his eyes and groaned at the pain. 

Joel turned his head to you but you were unconscious. He panicked and hurriedly took off his seatbelt. He was shaking.

“Baby, can you hear me?” His bloody hands cupped your cheeks.

“Baby, open your eyes. Open your eyes for me, baby, please.” Joel tapped your cheeks with his palms and sobbed.

Your ears were ringing and your vision was blurry. You blinked your eyes a few times as you heard his voice. All you could see was him, blood and pieces of glass everywhere.

“Where are you hurt?” Joel looked up and down to your body.

“J-joel..” You called his name.

“Baby, you hurt? Tell me.” He cupped your cheeks.

“Wait here. I’ll get you out.” Joel immediately got out of the car and ran to your side. 

He was in pain but he ignored it. Your safety was his priority. You were more important than him. 

“Come here, put your arms around me. I got you, baby. I got you.” Joel put his arms around you to help you out ignoring his pain.

“J-joel. I’m in pain.” You shakily put your hand on your abdomen and squeezed it.

“I know, I know. I need to get you out first. Come on.” Joel tried to lift you.

“Joel, the baby.. I can’t lose the baby.” You cried as you felt warm liquid flowing to your thigh.

“Shit.” Joel looked down to your skirt and saw blood.

“Joel..” You cried looking through his eyes.

“Eyes on me, baby. Eyes on me. Don’t look down.” He tried not to panic so you didn’t panic.

“Joel, everything hurts..” You cried on his shoulder as he dragged you out of the car. 

“Somebody call the ambulance!” Joel shouted.

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry.” Joel cradled your head as he laid you on the ground.

Thankfully, a stranger called an ambulance and they came right away. The paramedic laid you on the wheeled stretcher and Joel’s heart broke. He blamed himself. He didn’t know what he should do. He followed you inside the ambulance and held your hand throughout the way to the hospital. You squeezed his hand in pain and he brought your hand to his lips.

“Please help my wife. She’s pregnant.” Joel begged the nurse as she brought you inside.

“Sir, you need to get treated too.” The nurse invited him to the examination bed to get treated.

Joel’s head was bleeding. His bones probably dislocated or fractured but he didn’t care. His focus was only you. He felt extremely guilty and his chest hurt. 

“Sir, we’re sending your wife to the operating room. It’s best if you get treated while you wait.” The nurse repeated again.

“Save her, please.” Joel sobbed. 

“We’ll try our best.” The nurse smiled.

Then Joel followed the nurse and got treated. He called Tommy to watch Sarah for a while but he told him not to tell Sarah what happened. Then he waited for a few hours and shook his legs in anxiety. Joel stood up right away when you were brought out from the operating room.

“How is she?” Joel asked the doctor with his casted arm.

“Sir, I’m so sorry for your loss. We couldn’t save your baby. And your wife needs a lot of rest. We need you to stay strong for her.” The doctor felt bad for telling Joel such bad news.

Joel cried as he looked at your weak body laying on the hospital bed. The nurses pushed your bed to your room while Joel followed beside you. Joel stayed beside you all the time when you were still sleeping because of the drugs.  He slept resting his head on the bed beside you, holding your hand, never letting you go. In his mind, he kept thinking how he would tell you when you regain your consciousness.

“Joel?” You whispered as you opened your eyes a little.

Joel raised his head right away when he heard you call his name.

“Hey, I’m here, baby. I’m here.” Joel stroked your head.

“Where am I?” You tried to remember what happened and your head hurts.

“You’re in the hospital. We got into a car accident.” He explained the main points.

“My head hurts.” You put your hand on your head then your stomach.

“Joel- The baby. Please, tell me it’s okay.” You started panting as you panicked.

“Baby-I-” Joel couldn’t find his words.

“Joel-please-” You sobbed.

“I-I’m sorry.” He cried.

“Joel! No! Please!” You cried gripping his shirt.

“I’m sorry, baby. It was my fault. I’m sorry.” He cried and buried your head to his chest hugging you tight.

You cried so loud. Your tears wet his shirt. You didn’t expect this would happen. 

“Bring him back! Bring him back, please!” You screamed and tried to get out of the bed looking for the doctors.

You used him for your unborn child because you could feel it would be a boy. But now he’s gone. Your baby boy was gone. Your heart was shredded into pieces at the fact you couldn’t protect your baby.

“Baby, you need to lay down. You need rest.” Joel held you from standing up.

“Don’t touch me!” You threw his hand away from you.

“It’s all your fault! None of this would happen if you didn’t speed up!” You yelled at him. Tears falling down your cheeks.

“I hate you! I hate you! And I hate myself!” You took off the IV needle that was inserted on the back of your hand and stood up.

The nurses came inside as you tried to leave the room. They held you and put you back to your bed. Your heart rate was rising and they decided to give you sedatives to calm you down. Joel cried as he saw you like that. He was guilt-ridden and helpless. He never wanted to hurt you and now you hate him. 

To be continued…

A/N: I wasn’t planning about this but when I was writing for this chapter my hands kept typing it this way. I don’t know if you like it but I hope you like it!! ❤️

Taglist:

@lovelyygirl8 @skysmiller @moonlightdivine @crocodiile @angie2274 @pulchritudinousrogers @peqchsoup @msecho19 @happinessinthebeing @nyotamalfoy @nakedmoondiaries @dzaga890 @pa1g3-t0mm0 @prettysbliss @wanniiieeee @one-sweet-gubler @x-ap0llo-x @feministfanboi @ordinarylokix @afterglowsb-tch13 @padgraysonssram8re @tomorrowseverything @hummusxx @iranispunk @mrsyixingunicorn10 @likeanimagepassingby2 @mediocrewallflow3r @pedr0swh0r3 @mxtokko @dorck26 @cascactus28 @cheyxfu @stupidthoughtsinwriting @undermoonlightwalk @bigmoodyjoody @humanbug @sarahhxx03 @krisviciousx @quixscentsposts @dgct2 @dgraysonss @heybabyshae @fluffyspaceprincess @toottmblr @avengersfan25 @xixxala @dianaffddz @onzayhe @violetwitchmcu @welcometomyworldwithoutrules @kelh27

[live-laugh-lenney]

No bc george would be soooooo insanely protective over his baby girl, please do a story about george being sooo protective over his little baby girl ❤️❤️

oh, absolutely!

george adores her.

and he never thought he'd love anyone as much as he loved yn... until his little girl came into the world, with a healthy set of lungs on her, in the early hours of a friday morning. he felt his heart double in size at the sight of his girlfriend holding their newborn baby, in a hospital bed on the midwifery floor of a hospital located in just outside of the centre of london, and it was a sight he never wanted to forget.

from the moment they brought her home, snoozing in her carseat and tucked beneath a blanket with her name stitched into the corner, he was careful with everything he did; from the way he held her, to the way he laid her to sleep in her cot, to the way he picked her up, to the way he fed her. he kept a watchful eye on everyone that held her to make sure they held her correctly, informing them when he wasn't happy with how her head wasn't being supported correctly or how they were being too loud around her, and he was always very weary about those wanting to get a peek at her when they were out in the city of london... he wanted to keep her safe, wanted her to be okay, and his dad instincts were in full swing as soon as they were allowed home with her.

so when she got to the age where she was walking and, just about, talking... he was even more watchful than ever. especially when her favourite people were over.

for her second birthday, they threw her a mini birthday party in their back garden. with food, drinks and enough toys and games to keep everyone entertained and happy, and the weather managed to hold out for them, making it the most perfect day to celebrate.

"please don't throw her around like last time," george warns arthur as he stood there with his hands held up in surrender, "and don't claim you can't remember a thing. she had a big egg on her head for over a week."

"that wasn't strictly my fault," arthur insists and george rolls his eyes, "it wasn't! honest."

"george, leave him alone, for goodness sake. i'm sure he's still a bit traumatised by what happened," yn states, rounding the corner with their little girl on her hip and watching as her face lit up from where arthur was standing in the entryway of their home, "who's that, sweet girl? is that uncle television?"

"i really need a new nickname," arthur says, reaching forward and taking the toddler from her mother's hip which allowed yn the chance to move around much more easily, taking the extra weight from her side, "hello, mini clarkey."

"everyone's already here, in the garden, grab a chair from the dining room because we don't have enough out there," george closes the door as the three of them make their way through the house, aromas of meat cooking as well as spices and the smell of a barbecue filling the air, "don't go mucking around on the bouncy castle with her, too. yn insisted we had it for her birthday but i'm not so sure."

"a bouncy castle? that's a nightmare waiting to happen with us lot in the garden," arthur cackles and yn smirks in his direction, "get a few drinks in us and we'll be having more fun than the birthday girl."

george disappears into the garden, leaving yn and arthur standing in the kitchen, the toddler on his hip playing with the collar of his shirt as she wriggled on his hip.

"just ignore him, he's just being protective over her. another year has flown by."

"i'm not called funcle for nothing," arthur laughs and digs his fingers into the little girl's side, laughing when she giggled back at him, "shall we go play in the garden?"

"food will be ready soon, don't wear her out too much otherwise she'll fall asleep in her dinner."

"like father, like daughter," arthur jokes and yn snickers at him, "if you need help, give me a shout." xx

[skele-bunny]

Thinking about Reincarnated Ghouls...

( Co-Made with @artificialmoth !)

CW - Topics of Death (Murder/Suicide/Natural), Child Death, Crimes, Abuse, Ritualistic Sacrifices, and Violence.

Think of it like... A second chance opportunity. To live a life you were never given. To give back for all the sins you've caused. To feel the love of mercy.

Those who have sinned so deviously for torment, those who have felt that torment of innocence, or simply those who were the unlucky chosen ones for a ritualistic sacrifice. The Ministry is picky on who they collect, only those they believe can be "repurposed" and have atonement, or who truly deserves it.

None of the Ghouls remember their human lives, only getting flashes here and there. These flashes mainly attacking those meant to atone, scaring them and guilting them with what they've done. Their files are hidden and only accessible to the Emeritus Line.

At first, Papa Primo chose to pick those who had suffered religiously or those who tormented with religion. Of course, the few of innocent. Secondo didn't enjoy entertaining the fact of redemption or second chances more than he had to. Terzo, who wanted to find those of innocence and grant them kindness while also redeeming those he believed could do better. Copia who chose based on a silent call from his heart, no specific in mind but mainly those who are innocent and accidental.

Omega: A corrupt Politician who took advantage of those in weaker communities and suffering financially. Promising those he was a man of God who'd treat them well only to be the one to assist in their deaths. Assassinated.

Alpha: A community, Christian man who was a good person, but mental health ignored and worsened by his church and fear mongering. Leading him to religious psychosis, killing his family and himself. Suicide.

Chain: A mother who's child ran away, left alone in a search believing for so long that her daughter would come back only for those to whisper she was dead. Grief overtook. Suicide.

Arlo: A desperate man who enrolled himself in conversion therapy to rid of his bisexuality, only to be treated poorly and worsened by their actions. Who was left to the elements, not understanding anything that was happening. Murdered.

Aër: A church goer who had mental health issues, believed to be possessed by a demon. Tied down, water boarded, starved, essentially left to rot to exorcise him of Satan's minions. Murdered.

River: A regular shop owner in the deep south who was targeted once it was revealed they were pagan. Kidnapped from their bed and tortured in the name of the Lord, before being tied to an anchor and drowned. Murdered.

Lake: A preacher who was corrupt and ignored the abuse in his church. Taking bribes, encouraging mistreatment, and casting hate on those who tried reaching for help or spoke out against him. Died naturally.

Pebble & Delta: Lovers who were close to engagement. Randomly targeted for a hate crime, left to watch the other be murdered and received no justice as their attackers were never found. Murdered.

Mist: A full of life young adult, always taking risks before being dared to jump in the lake after heavy rains. The undercurrent getting a hold of her, dragging him with no promise of resurfacing. Accidental Murder.

Zephyr & Ifrit: Long distance lovers who planned to move in together soon, only for Zephyr to be targeted by the cult and kidnapped. Ifrit, desperately tracking them down before offering himself as he couldn't live without them. Ritualistic Sacrifices.

Dewdrop: A Jane Doe sex worker found murdered by a client. Terzo desperate to give a second chance to the innocent. Murdered.

Aether: A surgeon who purposely allowed critical patients to die in hopes of harvesting their organs, wether they were signed up for it or not. Who abused his power before his own disease caught up to him. Died naturally.

Mountain: A college student who wanted to relax with his crush before finals, accidentally making said crush overdose and die in his arms. Grief overtook him and in a drug induced state, hung himself. Suicide.

Swiss: A college student who wanted to relax with his crush before finals, accidentally overdosing and dying quietly in his crushes arms. Accidental Murder.

Rain: A mute university student who was a victim of a crime, who did everything right, but received harassment and eventually their perpetrator found not guilty. Guilt overtook them. Suicide.

Cirrus: An older woman who just wanted to briefly escape life and enjoy time with her friends late one night, getting into a vehicle with her friends who were drunk. Accidental Murder.

Cumulus: A married woman who had two twin daughters, being abused by her own wife before finally murdering her. She was sentenced to the death penalty. Lawful Murder.

Sunshine: A serial killer who enjoyed being the center of attention from all the reports on her, only to accidentally encounter the cult and volunteer herself after being promised more attention. Ritualistic Sacrifice.

Phantom & Aurora: Children who were victims of deep religion, who's parents murdered them after CPS had begun to get involved after abused was documented. Murdered.

The clergy has shown great success rates with this reincarnation program, those who sinned giving back and those taken enjoying comfort they never had.

Anyways I have a WHOLE bunch of these guys written out if anyone is curious and wants to ask. Just lmk who and I'll post em :3 /Nf

[bellarkeselection]

3 - Escaping with a Bridgerton

Part 4

The Venus Muse

Please leave comments @abq654 @your-musicguru @imgondeletedis @eruannaaa-blog @cherrylovers-world @benedictbridgertonss @callmedarlingsstuff @carrotcaratsworld @sillynilly27 @emmampl-blog2 @bright-molina @erynel1zasworld @ynbutbetter @stranger-chan @blckbarbiedoll @sanaar3006 @urmoom12345 @ritz-hell-hotel @ritz-hell-hotel

Benedict's pov

Sitting in the main living room I was scribbling in my sketchbook until I heard someone enter the room lifting my gaze. I saw my sister Eloise sit across from me at the table. “What were you thinking the other night!”

“Good morning, Eloise. How did you sleep?” I greeted her, not sure what she was upset about.

She leans forward on the table whispering in a snappy tone. “Don’t change the subject when I know that you were alone with the Queen's daughter last night.”

“The queen has many daughters, Eloise.”

She hit her hands on the table and thankfully it was just the two of us in the room. “Princess Y/n! Now what we're you thinking.”

“I shared a dance with her. I don't see what the problem is here. Would you rather she sit there by herself for that whole evening hmm.” I questioned her.

My sister rolls her eyes. “The problem is that she is royalty and we are not according to society.”

“I'm aware of that but it doesn’t change the fact that I am a gentleman. I will not leave a lady in distress regardless of being royalty or not.”

She puts a hand over her face, sighing heavily. “Benedict, I'm just worried that if you show this girl you're attention you might give her the wrong impression. She's not a common lady. Her mother could have you beheaded if she wished.”

“I'm quite sure the princess knows that, Eloise.” Shutting my sketchbook I sent her a half smile. “And wasn't it you who told me to live my life and you would through me since women aren't allowed to do much in society.”

She sighed in defeat. “I suppose I did.”

“All I'm doing is giving the princess the same thing you asked from me. A chance to experience a life she's never known but wished she had.”

I knew my sister meant well by her response but I wasn't as worried as she was. “I care about you, brother. I truly do. But you need to be careful is all I am saying to you when it comes to this princess Y/n.”

“I think I understand what you are saying now.” I leaned closer to her, putting my elbows on top of my sketchbook. “She's less deserving of attention simply because she doesn't meet the demands of polite society.”

Eloise nodded her head yes with a sad look. “I don't wish to squash your fun. But you must remember your not in the royal standings to court a princess. Even though I think you would probably be a lot better than a snooty prince.”

“Thank you for your input, dear sister. But it's sadly not needed. I am going to keep my word to the Queen's daughter no matter what society tells me.” Scooping up my sketchbook underneath one of my arms I left the room knowing I needed to prepare a few things before I saw her tonight.

Y/n's pov

Standing out on one of the balconies of the castle I felt like I was in my own little world right here. The second I stepped over that door threshold I would feel trapped once more, even though it's been my home my whole life. Hearing footsteps coming up behind me I recognized the voice quite well. “Y/n, there you are. I was beginning to think you had run off to the horse stables again tonight.”

“Why would you think such a thing?” I asked her still looking at the vast landscape in front of me.

My best friend Glimmer had moved into the castle after my mother saw her father help my father through one of his episodes without any torture necessary like the older doctor according to rumors inside these walls. “Because you disappeared off to the horse stables during the ball the other night. I know you far too well, bestie.”

“And I know you too. So before you say anything I am not going to fall for the man I scampered off with that night.”

She came to stand beside me leaning her elbows on the balcony railing. “Why won't you embrace the possibility, hmm?” Her long dark auburn hair cascading down her back and flowing freely in the wind.

“Because it’s never going to happen. I am a princess, the daughter of King George and Queen Charlotte. I have to marry a man of noble blood and anything beyond that isn’t acceptable for the crown’s image.” Glaring lightly at my best friend I spun around on my feet entering the room and away from the balcony.

Glimmer flipped her hair out of her face, stomping up in my direction. “Oh please stop telling me things I already hear everyday. I want to hear what you really feel. I want to hear what your mother thinks about you marrying and have it not included for the benefit of her crown and royal legacy.”

“My mother has told me once that she simply wants me to be happy. It doesn’t matter who I marry, at least that’s what I hope she meant. Although it’s difficult to read her expressions when all she’s concerned with is discovering the identity of Lady Whistledown.”

Glimmer crossed her arms over her chest. “Y/n, I’m your best friend which means I need to be very honest with you. You need to find love and it won’t get done with you hiding out here. Go see him-“

“Did you hear that. What is going on outside?” We glanced back at the balcony railing hearing something hit the rail a couple of times gaining our attention. I slowly moved forward peaking over the railing side trying to see through the dark of night.

Glimmer joined me peeking over the railing herself seeing who it was throwing rocks in the darkness. “I don’t see anything - wait - wait - I think I see somebody. Look over to your right just a little bit.” I followed where her index finger was pointing to the spot, seeing a figure standing near the small rocks that were piled up along the castle wall.

“Benedict!”

Glimmer giggled gently, shaking on my arm and nearly hanging on my back. “You’re Prince Charming is throwing pebbles.”

“I can see that. Now please - stop shaking me.”

Benedict chuckled up at the two of us. He wasn’t sure what was drawing his soul towards this girl. Yet he didn’t want this current feeling to disappear away, especially if he could help it. “Princess, I made you a promise and I intend to keep it. Won't you come down and see what I have planned.”

“Are you crazy. I can't climb down those vines. I'll fall and crack my skull opened.” Pointing my hand to the thick green vines that grew outside my window I knew that was what he was referring to when he said climb down.

Benedict smiled brightly up at me gesturing with his arms out in front of his chest. I'll catch you if you fall, princess.”

“What are you waiting for. Climb down the vine and sneak off with him.” Glimmer yanked me backwards eyeing the gown I had on which was a simple blue nightgown with some white trousers underneath and my short brown boots that I would take off when I would head for bed.

I gasped smacking her hand that was holding my wrist. “I can’t sneak out with him, Glimmer!”

“For god sake do something rebellious in your life. You want adventure, well this is the start. Don't worry about your mother or the guards almost everyone is asleep anyway.” She sent me an annoyed look before I nodded and she helped me over the railing.

Managing to make it down to the ground without falling Benedict eyed my best friend whispering into the night. “I'll have her back before dawn, my lady.” I intertwined my hand with his and we disappeared into the night with me unsure of where he was taking me.