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targaryenrealnessdarling · 6 months

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The Green Prince | Bluebeard!Aemond x Wife!Reader

-Based on the Fairytale 'Bluebeard'- Halloween Special!

Summary: Six wives before her mysteriously disappeared, and someone in Dragonstone calls for her once her new husband entrusts her with his master key | Word Count: 8k~ | Warnings below the cut~

Links to my Taglists: General Taglist | Aemond Targaryen Taglist

Warnings: dub-con, arranged marriage, victorian england setting, era-typical sexism, murder, uxoricide, blood, toxic behaviour, apparitions/ghosts, manipulation, threats of violence

She's heard only tales of Aemond Targaryen.

The Green Prince of Dragonstone. A wealthy gentleman who often stayed within the confines of his estate.

When she abandoned the frills and wide smiles of girlhood, thrust into the pomp and practice of womanhood, that is when the stories began.

She had never seen him. And she began to believe, that the people around her who spoke of him never had either.

They were of a decent background, her and her family. Not overwhelmingly rich. But well-off is what her father always said.

Enough to employ a small army of servants.

Enough to never have to worry about the troubles of daily life that so often would hinder an everyday individual.

She doubted Aemond Targaryen ever had to worry about that either.

One fact that simply could not be frayed, was that he was royalty.

Only in the sense that he was utterly untouchable.

He had this elegance about him, they would say, a sort of curious exoticisim from the way his long, silver hair would drift down his back, to the way his inhuman purple eyes would glimmer, half lidded and looking straight ahead, as if he were piercing a knife through the individual with his gaze alone.

Though they were technically neighbours, she saw very little life pass through the iron gates of Dragonstone. His estate so vast, that by foot, she would have to commit a whole hour to simply brush by the border of what she deemed was a forbidden land.

There seemed an aura of darkness over it, that she could not quite comprehend. But one that intrigued her all the same.

Last year, at the same time as now, she had been considered a child. No better for company than being banished upstairs to dwindle about her books and writings, out of the way of adults and their serious business affairs.

What had really changed in 12 months, that they now considered her a woman?

She felt age had little to do with it.

She felt that she had been grown in her mind for some time, and had actually changed very little from the age of three and ten.

But now, at the tender age of nine and ten, there was still a girlish nature about her face. A brightness to her eyes, and a plumpness about her cheeks. One that her mother had once commented that men would find appealing in a wife.

And so here she was.

Dressed in her finery, a glass of wine in a crystal glass delicately placed in one hand, she stood beside her eldest brother, who had torn himself rather blatantly from a woman he himself was courting in favour of supporting his sweet, youngest sister.

"Do not, for the love of our mother, allow yourself to be approached by Mr Gardner. He has had five servants in as many months. I am sure you can understand why", her brother mused with a contented chuckle.

She did not know why. Nobody had told her plainly.

Sometimes she wished people would just be honest with her. And not assumed she knew the inner workings of people's minds, after years of being shut away upstairs by her parents and brother alike.

The foyer and adjoining rooms alike were filled with people, all pretending to make pleasantries with each other. And as the night dragged on, several well known bachelor's having tried their hand at impressing her, she found her glass of wine was not as endless as she thought.

When a servant had spotted her, appearing at her side to refill her glass, she had turned her body sideways and locked eyes, finally, with him.

The one people affectionately named, The Green Prince.

Like most of the men tonight, he was dressed in a suit with a long overcoat that covered his dark green waistcoat. So dark were the colours of his outfit, that they almost appeared black, like the rest of it.

His hair was loose, with a few strands falling to the front over his shoulders, and as her eyes trailed up to his pale collar, where a tie was loosely wrapped about his neck, she saw that when she met his gaze, he was already looking at her.

He held his glass in a manner most unbecoming. Hanging at his side, his long fingers grasping the edges so delicately, she was sure for a moment it was floating in his hold.

His finger, she noticed, tapped idly at the side of the room, as if deep in thought as he looked upon her.

She saw his gaze drop to her outfit, one that her mother had chosen for her. A red, almost burnt tea coloured dress, with very little flounce and fancy to it. The collar hung delicately at her shoulders, the bodice tight and the only detail of any colour was in the stitching of her skirt, which he noted was a shimmering gold.

When he lifted his eyes, he took a sip from his glass, still almost filled to the top, his burning lilac gaze hovering over the brim. She sucked in a breath, her own eyes flitting over his face. And to the patch that covered the left eye.

She didn't know why her chest felt tight, and why she hoped suddenly for the appearance of her brother. Or her father perhaps. He was staring at her so unabashedly, that for an unmarried woman such as herself, she would be looked upon with immense judgement if she were found to be staring back at him in the same manner.

Knowing his gaze was burning at the back of her head, perhaps tracing the intricate pattern of braids her hair had been styled in, she decided to ignore him, until he had the decency to approach and introduce himself to her properly.

As any good gentleman would.

She meandered through the menagerie of figures, careful to keep her wine close to her so that she wouldn't repeat the same embarrassment as last year when she spilled the entire glass down Mr Bray, whose wife near lost her voice with incessant shouting.

Her father, ever cheerful, as rich men so often are, materialised at her side, grasping her elbow and tugged his daughter close to him. His breath smelled like red wine as he whispered to her.

"It appears you have captured the special attention of Mr Targaryen, daughter"

Her father chuckled when her wide, terrified and yet curious eyes met his.

How could she have captured his attention, when she had done nothing at all? She thought.

She did not yet know, the charms that the appearance of a female body could offer. And how it could transform a respectable man from a pillar of society, to a hungry, lustful beast at a moment's notice.

"I shall introduce you to him" her father insisted, leading her along at his side, despite her quiet protests.

"But father-"

"Hush now. Remember your manners".

His tone of voice was enough.

She had not experienced it as a mere female. But she had seen first hand what her father did to her brother when he disobeyed. Finding a sort of punishment worthy at the end of his cane as it cracked against her brother's palm.

Her brother still wore gloves often. That was his shield.

She had yet to find her own.

Perhaps hers was in her mind, she thought. That she might be able to protect herself with her ideas and opinions, twisting the minds of men, as her elder sister had said once, to suit the needs of the women they owned.

She often had to remind herself, she was property. And could easily be bought and sold, and kicked to the roadside if she had done something to mar her family name.

She was thrust into a sort of social assassination once again once stood before the famed Mr Targaryen, who nodded his head in greeting but said nothing.

"My Targaryen. What an honour it is to have you here. Please might introduce my daughter"

He bent somewhat at the hip, his hand moving to grasp hers, the skin soft and feminine.

"The pleasure is all mine, Miss"

His voice was like the purr of a cat. And though terrifyingly intriguing, she couldn't find it in herself to look away.

"And to you, Sir. Many thanks for the invitation" Aemond turned towards her father, giving another barely existent nod of his head, his expression flat and almost bored.

"It is no problem at all, Mr Targaryen. Please accept my condolences on the passing of your wife"

Late wife?

She felt rude to ask, so said nothing.

Aemond seemed to understand her curiosity, and gave a light smirk in her direction, though she was on his blind side.

"Thank you, Sir. It was a great tragedy indeed"

"Indeed" her father repeated, leaning forward as if to emphasise the size of his empathy for him, "I understand she was quite distressed for some time, was she not?"

She almost passed her father a warning glance. Thinking it rather rude for him to say such things about his late wife. Whether she may have been mad or not.

But Aemond merely nodded.

"Indeed. I am afraid, however, it was an inevitable accident"

Accident.

She of course, remembered hearing the gossip, and hearing her father read the newspaper every morning. An update about the mad Alys Rivers at the top of the page every time.

Alys Rivers, the Lady of Dragonstone, found dead in God's Eye Lake. A wound to the neck spells suicide.

A wound to the neck was a kind description.

Her pale skin was said to be slashed open on one side, everything visible within. And once the water had got to her, she was swollen, pale and blue, completely drained of blood. Almost entirely unrecognisable.

It was just as well she had no family. They would not have wished to see how she met her end.

The article found it necessary to articulate, that her body had been returned to her husband.

Across the room, another gentleman called for her father, and she felt the hot whips of panic at the back of her neck at the thought of being left alone with Aemond.

"Do excuse me" her father said quickly, disappearing into the sea of black and grey.

She herself turned back to Aemond, not wanting to be rude, and tapped her fingernails on the crystal glass nervously.

"I am very sorry to hear about your wife"

Aemond hummed, one of his hands behind his back like he had a secret.

"Thank you, Miss"

There was a long period of silence between them. And for a while, she wondered if she should be the one to break it.

Aemond laughed lowly, leaning down to her face as he caught something interesting in his sights.

"See your brother?" He murmured. And her face turned as well, not realising at first how close their faces were, but she could not very well pull away without offending him.

All the same, he smelled of sandalwood.

Her eyes followed his, to her brother on the other side of the room, where he was thoroughly embarrassing himself by laughing too widely with the woman he had been courting for several months.

"He is awfully close to that woman, is he not?"

She swallowed, raising her chin to appear more confident as she spoke, "She is to be his intended. It is only natural they speak freely with one another" she reasoned.

Aemond did not move away, his shoulder brushing against her side. It made her shudder.

"He is certainly doing something freely" Aemond hummed deep in his chest, a tone which sent a dull ache through her body.

Her brother leaned in close to the woman. And she watched her blush and throw her head back with a demure laugh, her brother leaning close to run his nose along her neck, grinning against her skin.

It felt forbidden to watch them be so close.

And yet he was so brazen about it.

"She seems to be enjoying herself, at least"

She couldn't find it in herself to reply.

For the woman did appear as if she was enjoying herself. And briefly, stood beside Aemond, his breath softly batting against her neck, she wondered herself, how it would feel if he did the same to her.

She wondered if he was thinking the same thing as her. Sneaking into her mind like a whisper, as if he were being a locked door, and was peering through the keyhole to uncover her darkest thoughts and desires.

Her brother leaned towards his intended, planting a kiss to the column of her neck. And she felt herself parting her lips as the other woman had, not only at the shameless behaviour of her brother, so consumed in wine that he felt no need to appear reasonable in front of other people, but also because she felt Aemond’s slender fingers at her forearm.

It was not at all like the way her father had pulled her to him, in ownership.

Aemond tugged her towards him in a sort of longing, his nose pressing into the plaits of her hair.

“I am going to ask your father for your hand” he whispered, “and he will say yes. And you shall be mine”.

She listened with her fingers wrapped around the wooden pillars of the staircase as her brother shouted obscenity after obscenity at her father. Every now and then her mother would insert her little, sweet voice that was inevitably crushed by the low boom of the two males in the room.

With her gaze planted firmly in her lap, tracing the patterns of the lace of her nightgown as she listened, she thought with a sort of sadness that the offer of marriage should be a joyous and happy occasion. And now in her household, the prospect of her being tied to the Green Prince himself was so offensive to her brother, that he felt the need to fight on her behalf.

Perhaps knowing his sweet sister had no choice in the matter.

“He is barely half a decade older than her and has had six wives in as many years, father!” he boomed, and she could tell by the way his voice bounced off the furniture that he was pacing and throwing his arms around.

“To give her away to that brute. It is unthinkable!”

“Be quiet!” her father roared back, “the wedding will go ahead as planned. We will not get a better offer than this!”

While she was happy, that her brother was trying to stick up for her, it was no use. He nor her had a choice in the matter.

Her father had said it himself.

We will not get a better offer.

Not she.

She was property. Something to be sold and given in exchange for goods or reputation. What she wanted, was of no consequence.

And she couldn’t help but think of her mother, several decades younger than her father, and how she must have felt at her tender age when confronted with the prospect of marrying a man much older than she.

In a way, she felt connected to her mother in that way. But also in a way that she resented her, for dressing her up, plaiting her hair and pushing her out into the rich man’s world, ripe and ready for the taking.

Passing her the torch of a woman’s anguish.

The wedding felt clinical. More akin to a funeral than a union of two people.

Her brother stares dagger into the back of her intended for the entire ceremony. All while her mother cried softly into her handkerchief and her father sat, stoic and silent, his chubby fingers caressing the sculpted ornament on the top of his cane.

She remembered his hands as they were bought together and the officiator had placed a sort of sacred cloth over them as he muttered his prayers. Binding them lawfully and before the eyes of God, for their whole lives.

His hands were large, his palms completely dwarfing hers and his long fingers wrapping around hers like tight vines. And at that moment, she had never felt so small in her life.

And noticed that his side of the wedding chapel, where his family members were supposed to sit and witness their union, was completely empty.

Six wives in as many years.

That is what her brother had said.

She knew Aemond had been married multiple times prior to her, but was her brother merely exaggerating?

In contrast to his hands, where the blood swam warmly through his limbs, his lips where the officiant asked them to seal their union with a kiss, were cold, and not forthcoming. As if he had not asked her father for her hand in marriage, but that this entire affair was so useless and merely for looks, that he’d rather be somewhere else.

That said. She could not escape the intensity of his gaze.

He seemed to focus solely on her, much to her discomfort, to the point where it seemed like he was not listening to a single prayer or hymn that was uttered in the chapel all afternoon. And though her eyes were elsewhere, to try and place the feeling that bubbled in her chest somewhere else, she often found his lilac eye drifting to the details of her necklace, to face, and pausing where she wet her lips nervously.

If he hadn’t possessed such a domineering, strong presence, she thought he would be devilishly handsome.

Perhaps a fact he already knew.

It was unlike her family to have celebrations, so they didn’t.

She gave each of the servants, some who she knew for most of her life a final embrace, thanking them for their hospitality and care where she did not receive it from her parents. And as her luggage was packed meaningfully in the back of Mr Targaryen’s carriage, with two large horses at the front, she gave her brother a tight embrace as well. Inhaling and savouring the musty smell of tobacco on his coat.

He looked saddened, but for the sake of appearances, forced a smile onto his face.

“Good luck, dear sister. Remember you may write to me, even though you are a married woman” he smiled, teasing her softly with a nudge to her shoulder.

She gave a softer hug to her mother, who usually was not keen to shower her with affection. But she supposed, she was the youngest daughter, so it was only natural.

Her father, after having busied himself in an idle chattering session with Aemond, merely tipped his hat, and did not shed one bit of emotion as she climbed into the carriage before her husband. Aemond's hand helped her up the step, watching as she disappeared inside.

The smell of his sandalwood perfumes on his coat was stronger as he sat beside her on the cushion, instructing the handsome, olive-skinned driver to move forward and away from her home.

She only waved to her brother. And watched as he had wet eyes, stepping forward a few paces like he was about to break into a run after her.

The carriage was much nicer than anything she'd seen in her young life, and though they were for all intents and purposes, considered neighbours, it was still a half hour ride to his estate.

Dragonstone.

Her skin prickled at the mere thought of it.

She'd never seen it before. Nor had any of her family.

All she knew was that it was often clouded in fog, that when you stood at the front gates you could barely see the arching towards and dark brick in the distance anyway.

All she had heard was what people said.

That it was a frightful, maze of a place. With winding corridors and crooked doorways, and barely any servants.

He was a rich man, why not employ more?

He did not say a word the entire way home. He only sat, cross legged, and fiddle with his fingers like he was nervous. Turning them over in micro-movements.

Don't speak unless spoken to.

As Dragonstone came into view once they crossed the boundary of the iron gates, she felt her breath taken away.

And it was only when Aemond assisted her with a hand as she stepped down from the carriage that she could really appreciate the sheer size of his estate.

It was so big it was beyond comprehension.

She briefly wondered if she would get lost in such a place.

"Cole will bring your things to our room"

Her heart started to flutter, and pitter patter all at the same time.

Our room.

She had almost forgotten her one wifely duty she was to fulfil this evening.

To appease him.

The thought made a sort of tightness in her belly, though she was unsure why. Of course, her elder sister had divulged her own horror story of her wedding night. Though her sister was twenty and she herself only five and ten at the time, the nitty gritty was of great curiosity to her.

"For several hours the poor thing just cried and it rather spoiled the mood. Turned out that he had…pleased himself the morning of the wedding so as not to become too excited when the evening rolled around.

Oh well, no matter. Instead, when he had a rather excited visitor the next morning he crawled atop me and breathed heavily into my neck while he tried to get it inside me. 'Twas over in an instant dear sister and I did not feel a thing".

Though the anecdote was funny, although awkward seeing as she sat next to her brother-in-law the next morning and tried not to giggle, right now, it did little to quell the gnawing inside her.

Aemond did not seem as quiet and unsure of himself as her brother-in-law was. She doubted a man of his standing would have any issue fulfilling his role as a husband.

As he had done, six times before.

Which triggered yet another question.

Why no children? Surely all six of his previous wives could not have been barren?

Did they commit suicide? Ashamed of themselves for failing to fulfil this task? Were they all mere accidents? Or did someone break in at night to steal his plethora of fine jewels and artefacts and run into one of his unfortunate wives along the way?

It seemed entirely impossible.

She watched Aemond walk confidently to the front doors, where a couple of servants stood to greet the new Lady of Dragonstone. His coat fluttered around his thighs as he turned, the ends of his silver hair hung like they were floating.

"Wife. May I introduce you to the staff. Anything you so wish, please do not hesitate to ask them"

The two servants stood, hands clasped, looking entirely scared stiff. One was a middle aged man with an apron dirtied at the edges, and the other a maid, barely five and twenty, who offered her a polite curtsy.

She simply smiled at them, "a pleasure".

They said nothing.

There was something melancholic. Ancient. And crushing about Dragonstone.

She felt the weight on her shoulders the moment she passed those gates. Did they feel it too?

Did Aemond?

This was the only moment he seemed to smile, as miniscule as it was with a darkened gaze, was when he turned to look at his new wife and nodded.

"If you will forgive me, I have some business to attend to. I will see you tonight for supper"

His expression never wavered, even as he bent at the middle to press his lips to her hand, above the ring he had placed on her finger not a few hours before.

The servants quickly scuttled out of her sight and so she thought to amuse herself by exploring her new home. Out of habit, she started upstairs, going straight to her bedroom to inspect.

There was a large four poster bed made of what appeared to be walnut in the middle of the room, with various ornaments strewn about, but very little to suggest that he actually relaxed in here.

There were no mementos, keepsakes, and she thought briefly she couldn't get a grasp on his personality this way either.

She blushed and felt that tightness again at the thought of sharing a bed with him, of what they might have to do.

The rest of the house was indicative of the first room she ventured to. Lacking a certain personality she was sure existed in her new husband but one he refused to show.

The estate was cold and empty, with flagstone floors stretching along the long dark hallways.

There were so many doors it was difficult to know what on earth could be behind all of them. She'd so far discovered the Library, the Dining Room and even happened upon the scullery rather by accident.

And then, one room…

It had a oxblood red door, worn around the edges and the colour faded somewhat. She noted the scuff marks around the handle and the hinges, as well as the stone beneath the door where overtime, footsteps had worn it down.

So she was doubly surprised to find the door locked.

Curious.

Her skin prickled, and she was sure for a moment that she saw her own misty breath. Like that feeling that someone is watching you but you are too afraid to move an inch. The tips of her fingers suddenly felt numb.

She felt it on her neck, an iciness.

But when she turned, her breath stuck in her chest from panic, she could only see nothing but the empty corridor.

And all was silent.

There was a heaviness in her chest which seemed to pass through her like trying to walk through honey, trying to pull your feet up just an inch to step forward.

And as quickly as that feeling came, it was gone and she turned back in panic once she heard soft, careful footsteps behind the oxblood door.

She clenched and unclenched her fists in fear, trying to reason with herself.

Undeniable footsteps, ones that had started at the threshold and we're now walking slowly away from her.

The blood rushed warmly back into her fingertips, and she rubbed them painfully against her navy dress, trying to will a feeling back into them.

Footsteps…

She only heard her own as she hurried down the corridor again, her shoes clocking against the flagstone.

So desperate to get away from that heavy, morbid feeling that she nearly hurtled right into the young maid.

"My Lady!"

"I do apologise" she uttered immediately, her chest pushing against her bodice with her hurried breath, "I was not looking where I was going".

The maid curtsied, as if she'd forgotten to and straightened, "Supper is to be served, my Lady. May I-"

"What is that room? Down the hall?" She asked.

The maid raised her eyebrows, "Which one, my Lady?"

She turned her head down the hallway once again to point to the one she meant, and her words died on her lips.

The door moved.

It was unmistakable.

The shadow where the door was leant ajar quickly disappeared, and the frame was filled once more by the large wooden slat against it.

There was no click of a lock to be heard.

She was so afraid she lost herself for a moment. Going all pale. So much so the maid had to prompt her.

"My Lady?"

She shook her head, looking back to see if the door would move again, and drift open as it had before.

But it never did.

And the thought that as she was running away before, the door was slowly inching open, scared her beyond belief.

"It's nothing, I apologise" she said quickly, "Supper, thank you".

There was nothing of note for the rest of the evening.

Supper was quiet. And the table was so long with husband and wife sat at either end, that they may as well have been in separate rooms while they ate.

It was nice enough food she was grateful for that. A selection of soups and meats, and breads to fill her belly between courses.

He did not speak.

He barely moved any other muscle than his arm to fork the meat into his mouth. She watched him every now and then, over the barely dancing flame of the candelabra, otherwise the room would be completely dark.

So she drank her wine, and stayed silent. Waiting to be spoken to.

The only thing he said was right at the end.

"Shall we retire for bed, wife?"

And she could not very well say no.

She made brief eye contact with the maid as she followed her husband to the grand staircase, each step feeling heavier and more nerve-wracking than the last.

Her husband was tall, broad and she had no doubt be enjoyed the domineering aura he gave off. Judging by the dark colours of his waistcoat and trousers, as well as the leather eyepatch over one eye, he enjoyed inhabiting darkness.

She thought with some amusement that the only bright things about him were his hair and eyes.

Things he could not change.

He was certainly a marvel of a man. And truthfully, she should count herself lucky that he is at least somewhat close to her in age.

Aemond closed the door softly once they were both inside. The curtains were now drawn, and the room was filled with an amber glow from the candles the maid had lit for them.

She needn't ask him for help, for her new husband immediately stood behind her, and began to unlace her dress as if they had been married an age.

His movements were so sure. And she felt with jealousy of some kind that he had done this with six other women before her.

No wonder he was practiced.

There was no room for romance when to him, it was all just a matter of duty.

She stood only in her chemise, having pulled her hair free of her braids, feeling his gaze the entire time.

"Are you intent on remaining silent, wife?" He asked, and she heard him pull off his waistcoat with every pop of his buttons.

"Or might you become more vocal in the marriage bed?"

She felt her cheeks flush and thickness in her throat. Inadvertently pressing her legs together where a sort of excitement was blooming.

"I could not say…" she answered.

And chuckled lowly, pressing his front to her back, dragging his nose up the side of her neck, just as she had seen before.

She felt something hard press against her backside, his hips pushing it against her and moving softly, creating just a tiny bit of friction.

"Tell me" he muttered, his lips tickling her ear, "tell me what a good wife does"

She was suddenly nervous, thinking about what other people had told her.

And it was increasingly difficult to think, with his large hands pulling her chemise off her body.

"A good wife…is loyal to her husband" she recited, her breath coming in short pants, "she is…loving"

He blew air from his nose, like he was amused.

"..and she is obedient"

"That's it"

Aemond peeled the chemise off her, letting it drift to the floor.

"A good wife makes herself available to her husband"

She gasped and he revelled in it, as he pushed her newly naked body onto the bed, her body sinking into the mattress and watching as her husband bared himself one button at a time.

"Of course. There a many other wifely duties" he grinned.

His fingers moved to his trousers.

"But for now, I only care about this one".

Being touched all over was strange. There was a dull ache in her core when her husband touched certain areas, a feeling that she didn't recognise.

Her confused and somewhat distressed face at the whole ordeal was endearing to him.

Her young, plump face looked up at him with gleaming eyes and shame arched in her eyebrows.

It hurt. Not as greatly as she thought. But it still did.

"Close your eyes. It will be over soon"

She did as he said, turning her face away. But it was not over soon.

His member throbbed inside her, and she thought she'd never felt more full in her life. Since closing her eyes, she could not see the way his hair began to tangle around him, as his hips chased hers and came against hers with a soft smack.

The pain gave way to another feeling still.

That same ache she felt when he'd touched her.

Aemond smirked when he saw the confused, ashamed expression on her face. At the way she pressed her lips together.

"I think you are enjoying this" he murmured lowly, pushing harder into her like he was intent in piercing her stomach, "if I did not know any better, you would almost be moaning".

She didn't want it to feel good.

Or did she.

It felt wrong.

And yet she couldn't deny when he raised her thighs, his fingers wrapped into her flesh, it did feel good.

"Look at me" he whispered, never stopping, "Look at your husband, who is giving you pleasure"

Some excitement sparked inside him, when she didn't do as he asked, her warm embarrassed face pressed into the sheets as much as she could. Her eyes closed.

He laughed when she refused.

"Yes - you feel it, do you not? No need to act all coy. I can feel your body's response"

Shame crept into her body, her limbs going all tight just as he'd said. Feeling herself hit that irreplaceable point, she simply whimpered and felt his length throb once more before he spilled inside of her, releasing all he had to give.

She thought with lewdness, that his spend was warm inside her.

Aemond seemed to take great pleasure in making his wife shrink into herself with embarrassment and shame every time they coupled. He loved that doe eyed look she gave him, as if he did not have his cock buried between her legs every night he could since the wedding.

He would have her any way. Fully clothed if the moment presented itself.

There was something erotic about taking something that looked so innocent and filling her with his spend. How she would act all coy, with it dripping down her thighs.

He delighted in the fact that he had managed to kidnap this sweet young thing, and use her for himself and his pleasure any moment he was able. And the month that passed since the wedding, he could not think of a time that was sweeter.

So it was with great irritation that he was called to King's Landing. Some business with his brother that apparently couldn't wait.

He did not want to leave her.

He spoke firmly, stood before the oxblood door in his travel wear.

"While I am away, you must not enter this room. Do you understand?"

When she nodded without asking why, he smiled in pride and placed the master key in her small palm. Entrusting that she would do as she had promised in his absence.

He thought he'd reward her when he returned, by fucking her in the comfort of their bed sheets, until she was pink in the faxe and begging him to stop. Just as he liked her to be.

As soon as her husband left, she felt even more that she was being watched. All the little hairs on the back of her neck pointed upwards.

The maid kept clear of her, which was nothing unusual. But it was almost as if she was escaping rooms before she herself knew why. As if she knew what invaded the invisible space within them as soon as her back was turned.

Did she hear the voices too? See the dark figures and closing doors?

Anytime she passed the long dark hallway to the oxblood door, she felt her curiosity grow tenfold. But also a sense of dread, heavy in her gut, tugging her back to this wretched place.

What could be behind the door, that her husband wished not for her to see?

In the Library, the fire crackled comfortably as she turned the faded pages of her book. The maid busied herself collecting the dirtied saucers and teacups beside her, humming to herself gently.

The air suddenly went cold around her neck, and a breeze passed, evident by the dangling of her earrings. It was not only her imagination.

"A golden key. Oxblood door. Give the six souls rest, sweet child"

She looked up at the maid, "I am sorry, did you say something?"

The maid straightened and shook her head quickly, eyebrows arched in confusion, "No, my Lady"

Why did the maid always flee like that? Like someone was chasing her? With their claws at her back like an animal in the forest?

The key was ornate, with winding patterns and several notches at the top. And when she held it in her small palm, it felt hot to the touch like an iron rod.

Aemond would punish her.

How? She did not know.

She slotted the key into the door, without the energy to turn it. And her limbs felt heavy, and her knuckles cold, like someone was pushing on it. Forcing her will.

"That's right. Insert the key into the keyhole, and turn…"

A voice echoed off the stone.

A low, sweet, mature voice.

Click.

The oxblood door gave way to light, torches lit at every corner, illuminating the oxblood colour of the floor before her.

A step down.

The floor rippled like liquid.

"Our souls…"

Her shoe was slick with something oily that clung to the suede. Irreparably staining them.

Her skin prickled. Vomit bubbled at the back of her throat.

Six torch-lit figures reflected in the blood on the flagstone floor.

Hung, wrists bound over their head. White skulls in various stages of deterioration, with strings of what was once luscious hair drifting past their bony shoulders.

She saw with dread, they were still wearing dresses that hung off their ivory skeletons.

She was sure she collapsed with grief, a scream echoing around her that did not feel like her own. The only sound she registered was the clanging of the key as she dropped it in shock, blood of Aemond's ex-wives enveloping the brass.

Her throat felt sore.

She watched their empty eye sockets. The dust over their bound hands and their feet as they dangled inches off the floor.

Breath hot in her lungs like she was clinging to life as she knew it, she scrambled for the key and pulled the door shut behind her with a mighty boom.

Darkness crawled up her skin, now that she knew what was behind it.

Was this her fate?

If she displeased him, would she be their successor?

She was sat, with head in hand, in a state of complete distress with sweat on her brow and neck as Aemond returned.

She had paced the room for hours she felt, wringing her hands, as if to find what she might say to him on his arrival. He'd see it on her face.

He would know she had seen the corpses of his precious wives on her soft, innocent features. Scarred forever by death.

His tall, broad form filled the doorframe. And he dropped his coat onto the bed with a tired huff, but said nothing.

She almost wished he would say something. To spare her this horrible anticipation.

But she watched as he took two careful steps in. His one eye flitting over to the key he'd left her on the bureau.

The blood had not lifted from the brass. She could not wash it. No matter how much time she committed to it, it would not become clean.

Her husband looked back at her like she was something to eat, his eye half open with only half his iris visible.

She sobbed and cried when he advanced and held her to the wall by her neck with ease, slamming her small body against it.

"You thought you would get away without punishment, hm?"

She sobbed like a child, her tears wetting her cheeks and neck, to his fingers. Her own tried to pry his away, feeling that he was hurting her effortlessly with his grip around her throat.

"Please…husband…"

He could have laughed.

"Now is no time for begging. Tell me, how should I punish you, wife?, he grinned widely, his tone low and condescending as he spoke to the small woman before him.

"Please…you may do as you like with me - just first, let me pray-" she begged with a hoarse, tired voice. Never feeling that she could be scared of him in this way.

He pulled his head away, looking down at her past his nose, his lips tight.

She felt his grip loosen, but the places where his fingers had been were sore and red.

"I shall do as I please. But since you asked so nicely to pray. I shall let you"

She felt herself breathing like she was swallowing fire a she stepped out the door, allowing her privacy to pray before he inevitably drove a dagger through her, or something of the like.

She rushed to the master key and locked the door with a quick slam and click, locking her husband out and flinching when his palms pushed with urgency on the other side. Rapping on the wood like an animal who couldn't see their prey.

She had no intention of praying.

"Open this door! Now!"

Her eyes scanned the room anxiously and with urgency. She felt her fingers shaking as he pushed the window open, looking down at the great height she would have to jump to escape him.

A sure death.

She clambered over the bureau, her knees knocking painfully on the wood as she advanced in a panicked state towards the ledge.

Her brother.

If she could just escape to him.

He would save her.

A clang of metal rattled against the floor as her husband, as strong as she was, sent the door flinging off the hinges. His large arms wrapped around her waist as she writhed, fearing her life. Expecting a blade to her neck. Or perhaps to be dragged to the oxblood door, to never return.

"Husband - please - have mercy-"

"It is too late for 'please'. It is time for you to feel the consequence of your actions"

She struggled so much, he tackled her to the floor, holding both her forearms behind her back in one hand, pushing her front to the cold stone floor, her warm cheek moulding to the pattern of it.

"I beg you - have mercy and kill me quickly-"

Her tears wet her face entirely, feeling his body over her back, pressing his hips into her backside, letting her feel his wrath.

"Mercy?" He chuckled darkly, "why would I show the likes of you mercy?"

"You who I have treated with care and respect. You who has disobeyed me"

"My Lady shall learn this lesson now"

His voice was dark and low, and it scared her more than the whisperings of the paranormal and the sight of what was behind the oxblood door.

She panicked with a warm face as he rucked up her skirts to her waist, flinching when she felt two of his thick fingers swipe across her hot centre while he continued to hold her down.

"I do not often take pleasure in teaching my wife a lesson. But, for you, I shall make an exception"

She pressed her lips together, not wanting to anger him with her whimpers and whines as she felt him slide his trousers down and rub his hot, throbbing member, ready and waiting for her, against her cunt, collecting her wetness on his length for ease of entry.

He sighed longingly, his breath tickling her neck, his eyelashes fluttering against her jaw.

She choked on her breath as he slid into her, his fingers holding her hips desperately to widen her legs to accommodate him deeper inside her.

"None of them were worthy - fucking none of them -" he breathed, his breath hitching with each soft smack of his hips against her, stretching her walls to the shape and size of him and groaning at the way her hot insides parted.

"Do you wish me to give you a child, hm? None of them - fuck - none of them could give me what you do-"

She whimpered, feeling his length fill her repeatedly and bully the end of her, each blow against that rough spot inside increasingly making her shame and despair at his use of her body ebb away into a forbidden and unknown feeling.

"If you do not behave, you will not be allowed that pleasure" he muttered, his breath coming in short bursts, his thrusts as well becoming sloppy and unconfident.

Her gut warmed with his length piercing her insides. And she felt as though she was missing something he was telling her in his own way. Eyebrows arched in confusion.

Even now, while he fucked her on the floor, she felt afraid for her life.

"Oh, little one, I am almost disappointed that it took so long for you to realise that I do not intend to kill you.”

Her wet eyes cracked open to turn her head in discomfort to him. Her cheek rubbing against the stone floor as he pulled her hips up to fuck her deeper.

"No. You shall give me children. Many of them if you wish to please me"

She tightened around him completely out of instinct, and Aemond groaned loudly above her, pushing his chest so hard against her back she felt she might break.

And her hands clenched into fists, absentmindedly pushing her hips back to him to chase the remnants of that sweet rapture she was sometimes awarded when coupling with him.

A sweet escape from this prison.

He laughed, when he realised that she was quite resigned to her fate.

That she, compared to his other wives, was finally worthy of giving him children. Of satiating his desire to dominate a woman so easily. How he enjoyed watching the look of shame and pleasure on her face, as she battled with herself to submit to him or not.

He slammed with a wet squelch back into her again, filling her with his warmth with a long, shuddered groan. His grip so hard around her forearm, she was sure blood did not reach her hands.

He continued to move shallowly into her, pushing his spend as deep inside her as it would go. As if, whether she wanted to or not, he would fuck his child into her and watch her grow fat and round.

And then, once she had one, would fuck yet another into her.

Her breath came fast and hot from her swollen lips as she trembled around him, unknowingly prolonging his pleasure inside her.

His lips brushed against her ear.

"No other words before I begin?"

It was difficult with her head pushed against the floor, but she nodded softly in confirmation. Relief flooding her as she saw her husband's smirk rise to his lips, both his hands dropping to her hips to tug her back onto his length.

"Then let us begin"

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dark-and-kawaii · 4 months

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༺ 𝒱𝑒𝓃𝑔𝑒𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒 ༻

Raphael

Summary: Raphael returns to his boudoir with news that will forever burden your soul, the loss of a child is never easy…

Pairings: Raphael x F!Tav/Reader

Notes: This is separate from “Heirs”. I just wanted to write more angst bahaha.

Character Death - Angst - Battle - Blood

Throughout your journey with the absolute, you found yourself entangled in a forbidden love with Raphael, a love that defied all odds. Your union was born from flames, a tempestuous affair woven between two souls, bound by both passion and damnation. Your companions, especially Karlach and Wyll, vehemently forbade it. Karlach, the barbarian tiefling, was particularly against your entanglement with Raphael. She had expressed countless times her disapproval of witnessing you surrendering yourselves so freely to the devil. One day, she finally left your life for good, and you haven't heard from or seen her since.

However, your greatest fear loomed over you: now that Raphael had the crown he would set his sights on Avernus, where Wyll and Karlach resided. You dreaded receiving the news that Raphael had either killed Karlach or one of his lackeys had. His insatiable thirst for power would drive him to conquer Avernus and beyond, and Karlach would be caught in the crossfire.

You knew Raphael would be a part of the fights here and there, at times you worried, other times you were sure of him. But what you never anticipated was that yours and his daughter, a gentle yet fearless soul birthed from your twisted union, would also become entangled in the wars to come.

The knowledge of your daughter's involvement in the chaos gnawed at your heart, a foreboding sense of unease that whispered in the recesses of your mind. She was out there now, surveying the lands near Zariel for her dear father to see where they should strike first… The night was still as you stood by the crackling fireplace, finding solace in its flickering flames while Haarlep laid on the bed like some sort of house cat.

“You have little faith in our precious little girl.” Haarlep spoke freely. The incubus had forged a bond with your daughter, but unlike you, they lacked maternal instincts. “She’ll do well out there, afterall she is also of Raphael’s blood.”

You remained silent, your eyes fixated on the dancing flames. It felt as if you're trying to glean the happenings in Avernus, near Zariel's domain.

The sound of Raphael's return to the boudoir finally broke your trance. Little did you know that he carried a tormenting secret, burdened by its weight. Slowly, he approached you, his steps deliberate as he reached out for your hand. A mix of vexation and despair painted his features as he prepared to unveil the truth that would shatter your world.

"My dear-," he spoke, his voice seething with a mix of sorrow and anger, "in this moment, I must share tragic news that will forever haunt your soul." you could feel the gravity of his words, the pain they inflicted upon him even before they left his lips. “Our daughter, the fruit of our affair, has been plucked from us by the hands of treachery. It is with a heavy heart that I reveal to you the dreadful truth-,” Your heart twisted with anguish, you had feared the consequences of his ambitious plans, but you had never anticipated the loss of his and yours own flesh and blood.

You couldn’t see it, but Haarlep’s tail fell to the bed, hanging limply off the edge of the bed…

Tears welled up in your eyes, anger and grief mingling within you, with a trembling breath, “H-How could this be? Tell me, Raphael.” your voice was demanding while your lips trembled as your tears teeter on the edge of your eyelids, glistening, before finally succumbing to gravity…

Raphael's grip tightened on your hand, his voice seething with restrained fury, “Karlach and Wyll, your previous companions carried out this malignant act.”

You could feel the bile rising within you, your breath catching in your throat as your knees threaten to surrender beneath the weight of unbearable grief. The room spins around you, a cruel vortex of disbelief…

Raphael stood by your side as you took in the horrific news, his hand never leaving yours. Your free hand clutched at your stomach, your fingers searching for the child that was once a part of you. Desperate for stability amidst the chaos of your emotions.

Your vision continued to blur as your mind struggles to comprehend the magnitude of what has unfolded. To realize that those you had once trusted, the companions of your past, were the catalysts of your daughter's passing… It was an unbearable torment. Betrayal, the venomous beast, sank its fangs deep into your soul.

You turned to face Raphael, your expression a tempest of grief and rage. In that moment, the fires of vengeance ignited within you. Your daughter, Raphael’s heir, the child of House Hope, gone far too soon… "Raphael," your voice whispered, your voice trembling with a haunting resolve. He watched you closely, allowing you to speak the words he already had thought about, "We shall not let this cruelty go unpunished. Our daughter's blood shall not stain the ground without punishment. Let Wyll and Karlach tremble in fear beneath the weight of our wrath and power."

“My child will be avenged in the cruelest of manners.”

Amidst the chaos and the clash of steel, your heart pounded with a ravenous rage that threatened to consume your very soul. Your daughter, a precious light in your life, had been mercilessly struck down by the hands of those you once called friends. Wyll and Karlach, their names now etched in your mind as the embodiment of betrayal.

As you advanced, your eyes locked with Karlach's, a flicker of desperation in her gaze. "It wasn't supposed to happen like this," she pleaded, her voice strained. "Your daughter interfered, it was a mistake!" The weight of Karlachs actions settled heavily upon her heart, as the reality of the loss she had inflicted upon you settles in. She never wished to take your daughter's life, to rip a child away from its mother. Even if the child belonged to Raphael, she was still yours that you birthed. Karlach knew the pain, but at the time… It was all a mistake.

You refused to believe such words, "Liar!" Your voice echoed through the battlefield, your voice mighty like a dragon's roar. You swung your sword with a force born of anguish, aiming for Karlach's neck. In that moment, time seemed to stretch, as if the world itself held its breath.

With a swift motion, your blade had connected…

Severing Karlach's head from her body...

The sound of steel meeting flesh filled the air, followed by the sickening thud as the lifeless head rolled away, coming to rest in a pool of blood. It was done, but now what?…

Overwhelmed by the weight of it all, you sank to your knees in the desolate landscape of Avernus. Red skies and a brewing hellish thunderstorm served as a grim backdrop to your misery. Sullen tears streamed down your cheeks, mixing with the blood stains, marking the depths of your sorrow.

As you surveyed the carnage you had wrought, a bittersweet emptiness began to settle within you. The flames of vengeance, once vibrant and fierce, flickered and revealed the true hollowness beneath. The tragic truth of never seeing your daughter again haunts you, overshadowing any satisfaction you may have derived from retribution.

Behind you, Raphael, with his immaculate ascended form, towered over you. He crouched down, his much larger frame curling protectively around your back. One of his wings shielded you from the hells, providing solace and comfort. His head rested gently at your side, Raphael allowed himself to mourn alongside you.

A rare sight indeed, but a much needed one before you both caused the skies around Avernus and every other realm to fall...

"Your reign has just begun, Raphael,” your hand finds the bones to his cheek, "you'll have it all. This I swear to you." Raphael's tail tightens around you, a silent agreement. Because the hells and every other realm haths no fury like a devil and a mother that lost what should never have been taken...

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate #raphael bg3 #bg3 raphael #haarlep #raphael x tav #raphael the cambion #tav #karlach

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writingquestionsanswered · 9 months

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Finding Details to Go with a Basic Plot

Anonymous asked: Do you have any posts or new tips on creating the "fill" in stories?

I want to start here, because it's super important that we don't think of anything in stories as "fill" or "filler" because that implies it's "empty calories" there to take up unfilled space, and we never want to do that in stories. In stories, every scene--every event and moment--needs to be in service of the plot, characters, or world.

For example, I get an idea for a novel, like forbidden romance. My problem lies in figuring out other details, specifically in figuring out what would work for the plot (and what doesn't really matter). What would their jobs be? How can they meet? What interests/hobbies do they have? If someone has trauma, what was the traumatic event? My brain automatically looks for the links between everything, so it's hard to find a point of attack. I feel like everything has to interconnect to make sense - things can't be random or "because I say so." So when I have more of a plot idea rather than story, what approaches do you recommend?

If you have a general plot idea (like forbidden love) but you don't know how to flesh it out, it's probably because you haven't yet mastered an understanding of how stories generally work.

Stories are either character-driven, plot-driven, or a combination of both. Character-driven stories center around internal conflict, meaning a conflict within the protagonist's heart and mind. Plot-driven stories center around external conflict, meaning a problem in the protagonist's world. Stories that are both character-driven and plot-driven are centered around an external conflict while also exploring the protagonist's internal conflict. (And often that of the other main characters.) Plot Driven vs Character Driven Stories

Your protagonist's goal is always to resolve the conflict. In a character-driven story, that may not always be straightforward. Sometimes characters don't really understand their internal problem and so they sort of fumble their way through potential solutions as they try to fix whatever isn't quite right in them. In a plot-driven story, the resolution of the problem (the goal) is usually straight forward... take the ring to Mordor, survive the Hunger Games, pull off a heist to steal back the stolen art piece. Your character's pursuit of the goal, and the overcoming of obstacles placed in their path by the antagonistic force, is what makes up the action of the story. Then they finally face off against the antagonistic force in the climax, solving the problem once and for all. Understanding Goals and Conflict, How to Move a Story Forward, Basic Story Structure.

Here are some other posts that should help:

Guide: Filling in the Story Between Known Events Guide: How to Outline a Plot Beginning a New Story Finding a Story in Characters and Setting Finding a Plot to Go with Characters/Setting Turning a Barrage of Ideas into a Plot How to Turn Ideas into a Story

I hope that helps you start to pull your story into focus!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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See my ask policies

Visit my Master List of Top Posts

Go to ko-fi.com/wqa to buy me coffee or see my commissions

#writing tips #writing help #writing advice #wqaadvice

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fictionalmenaremytype · 3 months

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SEASON FINALE BABY LETS GOOO!!!!!

(Percy jackson ep 8 spoilers)

I'm just gonna start by saying if Disney doesn't renue this for a second season they are stupid and will have missed out on a harry Potter level phenomenon.

- LUKE MONOLOGUE HOLYSHIT ITS GIVING GOOD KID REPRISE

- HE IS KIND OF TERRIFYING IN THAT SWORD SCENE THO

- Ares' cackle. I love him .

- Ares just threw him like hulk did loki

- annabeth having to hold Grover back is so important to me because he's wanting to help percy but Annabeth knows this fight is to the death and any interruption would just get Grover killed.

- Annabeth also knowing he needs to prove himself as the son of poseidon and discover who he is.

- "let's kick the son of poseidon into a puddle right near the sea" I now understand why Athena is battle strategy and Ares is just war.

- THAT TSUNAMI JUST PARTING FOR PERCT US ICONIC AND HE JUST RUNS AND SWOOPS AND CUTS ARES

- my only critique is that Percy never does any movements to show its his power (which ik this is accurate to the books) but it comes off a little like he's just calling on Poseidon to do stuff. I wished they had some sort of indicator that it was Percy like maybe a slight movement or having the water pull back from the puddle he fell in and into the sea.

- I did think the fight was a little quick tbh but it still worked.

- the way I screamed "close your eyes close your eyes close your eyes!" When he was about to show his true form.

- woooh Hades helm

- The cabin looks fuckung terrifying rn

- I haven't seen the end of credit scene yet but I'm predicting it's going to be Sally with Gabe's statue.

- Alecto just wanted to get tho boss his hat back!

- "please" "good luck on Olympus" I thought she was going to be nice but noooo she's still a bitch.

- Annabeth trying to stop Percy from going because they're friends now and she's worried for his safety. I love Leah she is AMAZING.

- "I'm done running from monsters" THAT LINE OMG THE WRITERS ROOM ATEEEE

- THE NECKLACE?? THE MUSIC?? "You're gonna need all the luck you can get." Is so sweet and so patronising she is perfect. Leah is Annabeth Chase she has cyclops powers and just embodies her!

- "how sure are we you couldn't explain everything in an email?" So relatable Grover so relatable.

- "I'm here to see Zeus." Lightning bolt on the table " I don't have an appointment"

- THIS SHOWS ART DEPARTMENT HOLY SHITT OLYMPUS IS STUNNING WTF

- it is so so obvious when you know abt Luke that yes trying to recruit Percy to his side.

- LUKE REALLY JUST SET ANNABETH UP TO BE THE TRAITOR THERE WHAT!

- can someone build this olympus on minecraft please I want to exploreee.

- zeus (rip Lance Reddick we miss you) just waiting on his throne is terrifying.

- The thrown room being in a thunder cloud has so much messaging behind it! It is pathetic fallacy at its finest.

- Zeus is scary. I don't like it. Literal goosebumps rn.

- "your family is a mess" you tell him Percy. Be his therapist

- WHEN HE TRIED TO STRIKE PERCY OH MY GOD POSEIDON SURRENDERING

- "your forbidden son who should've never been born" "the same as your thalia" Poseidon learnt some sass I see.

- THE GREEK IS INGENIOUS.

- "make sure I never see this one again." Well I hate to break it to you sir but you will...a lot

- "obedience doesn't come naturally to you does it?" "No...sir." "the sea does not like to be retrained." CAUSE THE SEA DOESNT LIKE TO BE RESTRAINEDDDDD

- Percy not immediately knowing Greek is such a slept upon lart of the books because they have lessons in it.

- Poseidons smile about Sally.

- "Ares is a moron." The only thing Poseidon and Athena agree on.

- Aww they finally had father son time. Its so emotional and beautiful and its made me emotional.

- the line of applause and I'm just looking for Travis and Connor.

- The hugging is a thing.

- "an accusation against clarisse." "Without proof" annabeth has a feeling!

- honestly adding Clarisse as a traitor and using that to get Percy and Luke alone makes more sense to me given that they know someone at camp stole the bolt.

- I think now is the time to say how Charlie is amazing for Luke he's so sinister when he wants to be l.

- luke making him go through the Prophecy before he reveals and percy slowly realising why Omg chills.

- the red lighting on Luke highlighting his scar.

- luke looking like he's about to cry

- "I didn't think you'd give them to Grover." "I'm here to recruit" AH

- BACKBITER CAN OPEN PORTALS NOW THIS IS A WHOLE NEW LEVEL OF OVER POWERED !!!!!

- LUKE AND PERCY FIGHT LUKE AND OERCY FIGHT.

- Is that a silhouette in the background???

- " I met your dad" THE ANGER OMG

- the fight with Ares being short is made up for by this fight. Under the fireworks? In the woods? It's stunning!!!!

- PERCYS APOLOGY OMG I FELT SO BAD FOR HIM HES SCARED AND CONFUSED AND STILL TRYING TO SEE THE BEST IN LUKE.

- YES ANNABETH. THROWING HER DAGGER AT LUKE?!? I HOPE THAT KNIFE BECAUSE PART OF ANNABETHS CHARACTER BECAUSE THAT WOULD BE SO COOL. I KNEW I SAW A SILHOUTTE

- " Annabeth?" " I heard everything" I KNEW SHE HAD HER SUSPICIONS

- " He can be very very persuasive" "I'm very very stubborn"

- MR D LOVE HIM

- "Percy? That's your name?"

- I was half expecting Dionysus to do an Oprah and say " you get out and you get out"

- Annabeth saying goodbye to Thalia is so sweet

- " and then sone place called Disney World?" She's never seen a movie she's going to be so confused. "Which kind of sounds like water land but with less trying to kill you" Yeah.

- the way he smiles at her is so cute.

- "wait did I read that wrong. What am I walking into. Is there something you're supposed to do there?" "Just be a kid"

- aww Grovers searcher licence is a flower

- "but no ones ever thought to check the seas!" Nice set up Disney I see you.

- "we meet back here next year." Well you will eventually.

- THE GROUP HUG (if we get up to season 5 I expect editors to make edits of them hugging at 16 to them hugging at 12)

- The cabin and Sally <3

- "what happened?" "It's a long story."

- WHAT JUST HAPPNED OMG ANOTHET DREAM OMG KRONOS I DONT LIKE THIS HES TOO CLOSE OMG GO AWAY DONT INVITE HIM IN HES LIKE A VAMPIRE. HES SCARY SCARY SCARY.

- "no kidding kiddo it's time to wake up." So cute.

- "grandpa." "Don't call him that."

- "Don't forget to tell your mom how much you love her today." "Kronos Lord of the titans said that?" The lying and secrets has begun

- NO GABE WOOH

- THE ENDING MONOLOGUE

- HOW MUCH DID WALKER SCOVELL GROW OVER FILMING HES SO TALL NEXT TO SALLY AND THE DOOR FRAME.

- Sally divorcing gabe is much much better than her just turning him to stone because it gives the message that she now recognises her son can look after himself and now she doesn't have to protect him anymore.

- GABE ASKING THE LAWYER HOW TO PICK A LOCK IS SO FUNNY

- I really like how it's his own hate for percy and everything percy has that gets him killed rather than straight up homicide. It really sets the idea that people like that will find their own downfall (which is ironic bc this trope is commonly used in ancient Greek tragedies)

season one of percy jackson is stunning. It's a masterpiece even with the changes and whilst there was definitely some timing issues and the cut to black became annoying, it was very, very good. If it is renewed for another season, it has a lot of potential, and I will be very excited to see how they adapt The Sea of Monsters for screen.

#percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #annabeth chase #pjo tv show #pjo series #walker scobell #grover underwood #percy jackson season 1 finale

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yanderes-galore · 3 months

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Sure! @okchijt helped me with the plot, so here you go! Darling is a Mobian/Animal like Sonic who is partially roboticized and sees Eggman like a father.

Prompts Here

Yandere! Sonic Prompts 1, 2, 16

"I'm going to kiss you. Okay? Just...just let me kiss you."

"Tell me you want me. Please. Just for one night tell me...tell me that you want me."

"We shouldn't...we shouldn't do this."

"Why not? What's so bad about enjoying this?"

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Forbidden love, Manipulation, Forced affection, Clingy behavior, Kissing, Dubious/Consensual relationship.

You weren't sure why you bothered coming back here. You should have never started coming to this exact spot in the middle of the night to meet the blue hedgehog. He should've always been an enemy.

He shouldn't be your friend... you shouldn't be doing this-

It was all nice at first. You had been coaxed into meeting the Sonic in private. At first... it was all nice chat. It made you feel seen... made you feel loved... it was like a feeling you've long forgotten.

It was innocent when you came to the hedgehog, Sonic, for a feeling of something new. He often asked if you could leave Eggman and enjoy him. You began to see him as a friend... but always refused the offer.

To you, your visits were a way to have a glimpse into a normal life. You could justify it by just telling yourself it was all to get information. You wanted to have a normal life with Sonic... but could not leave the doctor.

You could tell how much your answers affected the hedgehog. He never seemed to like the idea of you staying with Eggman more than him. As a result... the innocent nature of his visits shift to something else.

Sonic's attempts to persuade you grow more desperate as you continue to meet him at night. His words became more aggressive and persistent. He even began to touch your hands or pull you into his embrace. Sonic seemed to try his best to pull you into his side...

But you remained loyal to Eggman.

He hated every second of it.

Even now as you meet the hedgehog leaning against a tree you can see him glaring. You refuse to run from him and stand before him despite your fears. Even when he wraps himself around you... your barely flinch.

"Just come back with me..." Sonic whispers, green eyes pleading towards you. He's acted like this before... which is why you didn't bother leaving. However... it was never this intense.

"I know you're part robot due to Eggman now... but you'll always have a home with me!" Sonic begs. "Don't you want a normal life? I can give you that!"

You say nothing and silently wonder again if this was a good idea. You shouldn't have ever met up with him in the first place. Now look where you are.

"Come on... please admit you want this!" Sonic pleads, keeping an intense gaze in your eyes. "Please admit you need me!"

"Sonic..." You sigh, pushing away from his tight grip. "Eggman will notice I'm gone. I really should head back, this wasn't a good idea-"

You barely finish your sentence before Sonic is tackling you onto the ground. You gasp as the wind is knocked out of you. That green gaze that always seemed so welcoming... now looks spiteful and glaring.

This... wasn't your friend anymore.

"No! You can't leave yet!" Sonic cries out. You go silent as the hedgehog's breathing goes ragged on top of you. Fear pings throughout as you try to assess the situation.

"Tell me you want me. Please. Just for one night tell me...tell me that you want me." Sonic whispers, looking desperately towards you for some sort of validation. Shock courses through you as the hedgehog leans closer.

Sonic didn't want to be your friend... Sonic wanted to he something else.

Your ears pin back in shock... what do you say?

You're brought back to your senses when Sonic leans closer.

"I'm going to kiss you. Okay? Just...just let me kiss you." Sonic whispers softly, nose touching yours. "I've... waited a long time for this."

This makes you make a move.

"We shouldn't...we shouldn't do this." You lightly push away the hedgehog, face heating at the thought. However, Sonic gently holds your wrist. He's soothing....

"Why not? What's so bad about enjoying this?" Sonic whispers with a small smile. "Don't you want to be loved?"

You say nothing and Sonic presses his lips softly on yours.

Truth is... you did want to be loved... no matter how strange it felt...

You just wonder how long it will last.

#yandere sonic the hedgehog #yandere sonic

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bidisasterevankinard · 5 months

Note

“So, this is what you do when I’m not around?”

“Is this… turning you on?”

If it inspires ♥️

I combined it and here have this hot thing love <3333 NSFW-ish. I think about continue to make it E rating and post whole thing on ao3 then, so let me know if you want more

prompts

In Buck's defense, it wasn't his idea to buy panties, but Chim's. Years and years ago, during Buck's probie year. They were drunk and Chim dared him to do it. Buck did. Then came home, put them between boxers he didn't wear much and forgot about them. He couldn't throw them away because they're expensive and pretty panties. And that's how these panties lived the last six years. They were moved in that exact stack of clothes, which Buck didn't want to sort when he moved to the loft. He just put it on the top shelf and forgot about it.Right till that moment.

He is alone in the loft, sorting his things between boxes to decide what he will move to the Diaz house. And what he will throw away or donate, because it's finally time to get rid of the clothes he would never wear again.

That's how he found these lace black panties. And if the boxers should go to trash because his size is bigger now, the panties on other hand look like they can fit him.

Buck in his life tried a lot of things, even crazier than wearing some panties. Just last night Eddie tied him up to their bed and made sure that it is hard for Buck to move today, especially bend, without remembering how good his fiance railed him. Trying some panties shouldn't feel so exciting and thrilling, and a little bit forbidden, like something he shouldn't desire. Except that Buck feels all this mix of different emotions like that and he wants to sense the lace around him.

He slips out of his sweatpants and boxers, but leaves the shirt. It is like a shield from feeling like he does something wrong. The lace fits him like a second skin, highlighting his cock and how pale he is. But that makes Buck feel good about them, it's how he looks like something precious and cute. Not like a 6 '2 guy, but like something that needs to be handled very gently, like a porcelain vase that is so easy to break with a careless movement. Buck feels good. He feels pretty.

Admiring himself from different angles in the big mirror, still not daring to leave himself only in black lace, he doesn't hear how he is not alone anymore.

“So, this is what you do when I’m not around?” Eddie's voice scares Buck and he rushes to cover himself, tugging on his shirt hard.

“I saw you naked, mi amor. No need to cover this ass or cock from me,” Eddie licks his lips not taking his eyes from his bottom. Even if Buck tries hard to hide himself, he still knows Eddie can see quite enough. “Especially when they are wrapped in such a beautiful package. Like a beautiful present.”

Buck doesn’t know what to say. He opens and closes his mouth for seconds till his eyes catch the lines of Eddie’s cock in his sweatpants. Catching the way where Buck looks, Eddie puts his hand pulling on his pants so that the line of his half hard cock is seen better.

“Is this … turning you on?”

His fiance comes close, putting his big warm hands on his t-shirt, lifting it up till he can take it off from his body, stopping to ask Buck with his big caring eyes if it is OK, not moving till he sees the nod. Eddie leaves him almost naked in his almost empty loft.

“How can it not? My future husband looks like a fucking model, meeting me in these cute lace,” big hands holds him by the waist, bringing Buck close to his body. Their cocks touch and they both moan. “You look so beautiful Buck,” Eddie murmurs and kisses his neck. “Do you like the way you look? Or should I leave to let you put your clothes on?” warm chocolate meets his sky and Buck one more time falls even more in love with this perfect caring man.

“I think I look pretty. I-I feel good. Really good,” Buck whispers, still feeling guilty to admit how he loves it, even if he knows Eddie loves it too.

“Do you want me to make it better?” Eddie traces his long soft fingers over the lace till he touches his hard cock, smirking when he feels a wet spot.

“Yes, please,” Buck gasps as Eddie speeds up his movements, passing the lace over his tender skin. “But we-we moved the bed already,” despite his words Buck just let Eddie leave more hickeys on his skin.

“You still have a kitchen counter. I haven't bent you near it for months,” Eddie kisses him, biting his lip. “What do you think, cowboy?”

Buck smirks remembering why Eddie calls him cowboy. Sue him for telling his “just best friend” he always liked to ride a man anytime he had a chance. He wanted to drive Eddie crazy with this idea. He succeeded even if they still had a crooked path after Buck's confession. Eddie their first time admitted that he called him cowboy several times to hint he wants Buck to ride him.

He licks his lips, acting like he thinks about it, taking the clothes from the body he needs to see naked. The way Eddie looks at him when he kneels to take his sweats off intoxicates him as well as the musky scent.

Touching beautiful abs, Buck kisses his man again before breathing into his lips.

“Yeah, not a bad idea, but what about me riding you on the balcony? These panties allowed it,” Buck puts Eddie’s hand on his bare ass. “And I found my cowboy hat,” Buck nods towards the hat. “Should I wear it or -”

Buck’s question is interrupted by Eddie’s lips and the body pining him to the wall. Grinding their cocks, they kiss till Buck is ready to hit Eddie’s hip to have a chance to breathe, but Eddie ends the kiss right at that moment, leaving Buck alone near the wall. He takes the hat and comes back, putting the hat on Buck’s head.

“ Are you ready for the ride, cowboy?”

#buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #911 #my fics #ficlet #evan buck buckley #buck buckley #buck x eddie #911 on abc #911 abc

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enhasfever · 1 year

Text

bloodline — enhypen hyung line

{ coming soon!! }

╰┈➤ [ cast.txt ] enhypen hyung line + fem!reader ft. maknae line

╰┈➤ [ contents.txt ] university!au, supernatural!au, vampire!enha, vampire!reader, fake dating, unrequited love, exes to lovers, enemies to lovers, secret relationship, angst, fluff, (possibly) suggestive themes

╰┈➤ [ summary.txt ] in which your journey with these four young men is anything but blissful and glamorous, but you live in a world where people will do anything to protect their bloodline even if it means faking relationships or keeping forbidden love a secret. will it be worth it to you?

╰┈➤ [ notes.txt ] each part can be read as a stand-alone story, though some events within the plot of the series may make more sense if they are read in the order they have been written in. also, the y/n character in each boy's story will appear in the other boys' stories and will be portrayed by female idols to avoid confusion.

why won't you love me — l. heeseung

╰┈➤ [ fic.pdf ] teaser! || read it!

╰┈➤ [ cast.txt ] heeseung + fem!reader (y/n character portrayed by le sserafim's yunjin in other stories)

╰┈➤ [ contents.txt ] unrequited love!au, one-sided pining (reader), toxic family dynamics (reader is constantly pressured and guilted), lots of angst, maybe a sprinkle of fluff (more tba)

╰┈➤ [ word count.txt ] N/A

╰┈➤ [ summary.txt ] in which you know heeseung is out of your league, but you still choose to pursue him knowing that your chances with him are slim to none. if you don't obtain his attention and love, you can kiss your place in your family goodbye.

catch fire — p. jongseong

╰┈➤ [ fic.pdf ] teaser! || read it!

╰┈➤ [ cast.txt ] jay + fem!reader (y/n character portrayed by itzy's yuna in other stories)

╰┈➤ [ contents.txt ] enemies to lovers, rivals to lovers, reader is sort of a mean girl, eventual mutual pining, angst & fluff (more tba)

╰┈➤ [ word count.txt ] N/A

╰┈➤ [ summary.txt ] in which you and jay have been competing with each other since you were in primary school, and it can't possibly get any worse when you're paired for a project. that is, until you're suddenly planning for an unsolicited wedding.

impurities — s. jaeyun

╰┈➤ [ fic.pdf ] teaser! || read it!

╰┈➤ [ cast.txt ] jake + fem!reader (y/n character portrayed by ive's rei in other stories)

╰┈➤ [ contents.txt ] secret relationship!au, mutual pining, star-crossed lovers of sorts, an equal amount of angst & fluff, bloodline discrimination ?? i'm making it a thing idk (more tba)

╰┈➤ [ word count.txt ] N/A

╰┈➤ [ summary.txt ] in which you and jake must keep your relationship a secret, especially from your family. they'd never allow you to be with someone who came from an impure bloodline like his.

all for love — p. sunghoon

╰┈➤ [ fic.pdf ] teaser! || read it!

╰┈➤ [ cast.txt ] sunghoon + fem!reader (y/n character portrayed by aespa's winter in other stories)

╰┈➤ [ contents.txt ] fake dating!au, exes to lovers, a lotta angst, fluff to make up for it (more tba)

╰┈➤ [ word count.txt ] N/A

╰┈➤ [ summary.txt ] in which you and sunghoon have been happily together since high school and are destined to marry after graduating from university. the problem? you broke up three months ago, but no one knows.

╰┈➤ [ notes.txt ] i wrote a small drabble/fic a while ago with a plot similar to this one, though i do plan to change up a bit of it in this series. here it is if you're interested in reading it!

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dailyadventureprompts · 5 months

Note

Hello Mr. Dapper! Love this blog and your many reimaginings of classic dnd deities and creatures. I was curious about something: Considering your dislike of purely evil gods and DnDs future focusing on the guy, what are your thoughts on Vecna?

Deity: Vecna, the Whispered One

My task of overhauling d&d’s villanous pantheon was started by a simple critique: that if god was evil, there still needed to be a reason for people to worship it. To go with one example, So many of the death gods in d&d want to kill everything that lives, yet they’re still presented as having legions of followers who are happy to die for them in opposition to the party. You can say “Oh they’re just brainwashed, crazy cultists” but that’s just bad writing and thematically empty, neither of which I want for the sort of games I run.

Vecna is actually an interesting case study in that he’s an outwardly wicked deity that has a theme which people would actively want to follow: As a god of secrets, Vecna is the patron of any who will sacrifice anything to learn the answer to their problems, or conversely, the ones desperate to ensure their own secrets will never be known. The story of Vecna as a mortal mage who attained first lichdom, then godhood is an aspirational one for all those power mad occultists out there, a common enough demographic in the d&d world both as villains and as player characters.

Cults of Vecna worshippers likewise make sense as the whole point behind the historical practice of mystery cults was that those at the upper levels maintained their power through control of information and access to secret learnings. You want to learn how to do magic? To speak to the dead? To protect your secrets from being known? Put on this ominous robe, learn the secret handshake, and don’t forget to drop your tithe intto the altar’s collection skull. Think of it like a forbidden knowledge based MLM.

Here’s some adventure hooks:

While many of the whispered one’s acolytes dedicate themselves to discovering to the delving of arcane mysteries, others focus their attention on more worldly secrets. A powerful noblewoman is being blackmailed by a worshipper of Vecna not only for personal enrichment but also as an act of devotion, after he uncovered proof of indiscretions that would ruin her reputation. While she’s too afraid to go for help herself and risk exposure, a devoted servant has seen her hidden suffering and has contacted the party for aid.

Barely disguising its fiendish nature, a devil in service to Vecna approaches the party with an offer to reveal the secret intents or weaknesses of their enemies, if only they will deign to meet its terrible price. While this information could do great good, or even save lives, just how low are the heroes willing to stoop?

Seeking out the aid of a powerful mage, the party discover the old man on the brink of nervous collapse, having looked to deeply into the void and filled his mind with visions best left unmentioned. Haunted by nightmares both real and imagined, he needs their help in quieting his mind through the gathering of rare ingredients and the distillation of a potent elixir. The process is not without risk however, are the party willing to help if it means erasing the information they need from his head, to say nothing of potentially lobotomizing the poor wizard?

Art

#deity #vecna #divinity: knowledge #divinity: death #divinity: magic #divinity: madness #spy #fiend #lich #cultists

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lovemari · 4 months

Text

IMPORTANT: Hello! My old account, Lovemari, got deleted. Therefore, I had to make a new one. I'm honestly pretty upset about this so I'll take some time to recover! Thankfully, all my posts are saved as I write them in google docs before posting. Please like and reblog so I can reach my old followers and potentially new ones!

Scaramouche - Forbidden Love

Reminder: I'm not an experienced writer so construction criticism is always welcome! Also, I write for fun. I just wanted to share my work around the world!

The balladeer has quite the special relationship with you. It definitely caused a great commotion in the Fatui. Though, it's no surprise at all. Absolutely no one would guess that Lord Scaramouche would show kindness and respect to one of his very own subordinates.

Those who knew Scaramouche’s personality or him on a personal level, were the most shocked. Scaramouche has never once had a conversation with his soldiers without any sort of yelling or abuse.

Some said that maybe the 6th had a crush on you. Others were quick to dismiss it. There was no way someone as cold as Scaramouche would even think about love.

A group theorized that you were possibly someone who knew Scaramouche before he became one of the almighty harbingers.

It was exactly one week later since news got around of Scaramouche's sudden kindness. Since then, you've been hiding in your tent, going as far as avoiding your duties.

You didn't want to be seen. Actually, you didn't want to be in the fatui. You're only here because your father sold you to the evil organization, for his own personal gain.

You were in your sleeping bag. You pretended to be asleep so no one would disturb you. Unfortunately, that didn't stop you from hearing the tent zip open.

You turned away, hiding in the pillow. You wanted the intruder to get the message that you were “asleep” so they could go back to whatever they were doing before.

That was until you were grabbed and forced to face none other than Scaramouche. You felt your body shake in fear. You knew exactly why he was here and you didn't like it.

The balladeer didn't look like he was about to kill, though. In fact, he looked remorseful, “I know what it's like.” He began, his voice somewhat undertone, “To be thrown away like your nothing.” You didn't get what he was trying to imply. You tilted your head, clearly confused, but curious of his words.

Scaramouche wasn't used to sharing his past, so he decided to exclude that. His eyes were looking at yours, “Your father sent you here for money, right?” He checked, making sure the rumors were true. Your face went low, you didn't want to talk about this. It was too much. It hurt.

Scaramouche noticed your expression, knowing that he was right and the rumors were true. Scaramouche didn't know what else to say so he just hugged you.

He felt your body tense at his sudden action but he didn't let go. He also felt that he also needed a hug too.

You squirmed, making Scaramouche let go. The balladeer looked down, “I just thought you needed one.” He knew he was being soft. He hated that. But he also found someone that was kinda like him and he wanted to make an effort to make a new relationship.

Scaramouche got up and walked away, embarrassed by the whole situation. He knew that was unlikely of him. He started regretting everything. Why did he hug you?!

All of his thoughts vanished when he heard your voice, and your smile. “Thank you.” You hummed, “For the hug and all. We should talk again.” Your voice was friendly and welcoming, but Scaramouche sensed the caution as well.

Scaramouche just nodded before sprinting away, knowing full well that the blush on his face was clearly visible.

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adiluv · 9 months

Text

❥ SEER + HOMEMAKER SPOUSE HCS. ˚⊹꒷

🍞୧・꒰word count꒱ 1230.

🌼୧・꒰warnings꒱ takes place pre-manor, possibly ooc.

🍮୧・꒰adi moment꒱ request here! these were originally supposed to be combined into one post, though i decided to split them since they ended up full length regardless, lol. i had a lot of fun writing this, i think it's a super adorable scenario! hope you enjoy! ꒰ ´͈ ᵕ `͈ ꒱

you can find naib's version here!

꒰🦉꒱・Eli is honestly such a huge softie, and—in my honest opinion—would be one of the more doting husbands out of the entirety of the Identity V cast. He absolutely adores you, a sentiment that he’s never hesitated to make known ꒰whether it be to you or anybody within a five mile radius꒱, and you just can’t help but adore him all the same. The poor man was probably even scouring his visions to try and figure out what married life would be like before the wedding, if it gives you any sort of insight into how in love with you he is. And, since he did go through with it, I think it’s safe to say that he enjoyed what he saw!

꒰🦉꒱・I believe that Eli would also be the type to enjoy living in a cottage outside of the city, though not exactly for the same reasons that Naib may prefer to. Of course, while some of his motivation does relate to his desire to give you a space to decorate to your heart's content—he just loves how cute your personal style is—he’s also… just a big fan of how cozy and quaint it is. The city has its charms, of course, though he’d much rather live more peacefully beside you, away from the ‘rise and grind’ lifestyle. Even still, I’d say that your cottage would probably be quite close to the city, as it would be far more convenient for the both of you.

꒰🦉꒱・For the most part, although he does enjoy keeping your company, he fully trusts you to take care of yourself, seeing no need to try and restrict your personal freedoms. You’re your own person, after all. I don’t exactly see him as the type to become jealous ꒰that easily꒱ or overly worrisome, so he’s very much alright with letting you do whatever you’d like to—just as long as the two of you communicate with each other. His abilities as a seer, which he’d been open about with you since the beginning of your relationship, provide an extra sense of protection—even if he’s unable to tell you about the future that he foresees.

꒰🦉꒱・Although he’s forbidden to inform anybody about the events that he foresees within his visions, he’s come to realize that he can still take steps to act against it. After all, what he sees references a possible future—not necessarily the one that’s already set in stone. As such, any and all attempts to sway the outcomes of events are done incredibly precisely and subtly, years of having to keep the details of these prophecies secret giving him an incredible edge.

꒰🦉꒱・Most of the time, you don’t even know that he’s acting on his foresight, only realizing afterwards whenever he becomes extra cuddly with you. What better way to celebrate the aversion of a potential disaster than snuggling up with your loved one, right? In the case that you do notice, however, it’s quite easy to confirm your suspicions. You love your husband, you really do—but any and all attempts of lying to you are quickly rendered useless by the small expression of guilt that appears on his face. He’s just… not a fan of lying to you, really.

꒰🦉꒱・He walks a very fine line when it comes to his duties as a seer and his duties as Eli, his decisions to counteract any bad omens sometimes already putting him at risk for ‘punishment’—whatever that punishment may be. And while he may not always spare you the full extent of his stakes ꒰he’d hate to scare you, after all꒱, he’s eternally grateful that he was able to meet you somewhere along the journey of his life. Powers be damned—this man is absolutely head over heels for his spouse!

꒰🦉꒱・Eli’s paycheck isn’t quite as large as Naib’s, a combination of factors having to blame for such circumstances. While you might’ve initially assumed that he’d be loaded—believing that he could easily make a fortune on telling people their fortunes—his restrictions keep that from being a viable option. Not to mention that there’s already many self-proclaimed seers running along, though Eli always says that they rely more on smooth-talking their clients than actually using any sort of foresight.

꒰🦉꒱・His preferred method of acquiring money is usually through picking up smaller jobs that interest him—with his visions helping him realize when certain opportunities are better than others. Simple manual labor, or perhaps even acting as a helping hand for somebody in need—he’s a firm believer in helping those that are less fortunate than him, and it’s something that he takes a great amount of pride in. The only downside is that some jobs require him to leave the house for days at a time, though he does his best to get back to you as soon as possible.

꒰🦉꒱・Although the both of you may not be able to shop until your heart’s content ꒰not that I see Eli being much of a big spender, regardless꒱he does quite enjoy saving up money in order to surprise you with gifts. Just like many things within his life, his visions do tend to come in handy for this sort of thing, especially considering that all he needs to do is pick up a gift in order to figure out whether or not you’d enjoy it. Throughout all of the time that you’ve known him—whether it be as friends, lovers, or spouses, there hasn’t been a singular instance of him gifting you something you’ve disliked.

꒰🦉꒱・On the other hand, however, shopping for Eli tends to be a far more strenuous task—though not for the reason that you might expect. You know what to get him, and that he’d really just love anything, so long as you chose it for him out of the goodness of your heart… But you also know that you’ll never be able to keep it a secret from him. It’s a little sad, you think, that he knows what’s beneath the wrapping paper before it’d even been wrapped. He’ll at least try to pretend that he’s oblivious, feeling the gift and making some purposefully incorrect guesses before opening it. It’s a small gesture, but it really means a lot to him.

꒰🦉꒱・A big fan of cuddling, a fact that's remained constant throughout the entirety of your relationship—though I don’t quite see him as having a preference for being the big or little spoon. Truthfully, he’s just happy to be there. Do you want him to hold you? Sure! You won’t even have to let him know when you need to get up, he’s already retracting his arms to let you take care of whatever it is that came up! Do you want to hold him? Absolutely! He’s eagerly walking over to you before the words even leave your mouth!

꒰🦉꒱・And, of course, it’s impossible to leave out Brooke! Although she’d take some time to warm up to you when you’d started dating Eli, she becomes very affectionate once she finally does. She’ll allow you to pet and hold her, even abandoning her post on Eli’s shoulder to come and sit on yours—so long as he’s not going out for the day. She’ll even flutter around and try to help you with any chores, something that you deeply appreciate—though she will steal any food that you’ve cooked. The three of you really are just a happy family!

i have a taglist, which you can sign up for here!

#꒰📍꒱﹕my writing ⋆#identity v #idv #identity 5 #id5 #idv seer #idv eli #eli clark #eli clark x reader #identity v x reader #idv x reader #identity v headcannons #idv headcannons #identity v headcanons #idv headcanons

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fan-goddess · 6 months

Note

Ettore and public sex????

He seems like the kind of kinky bastard who likes that shit

Bonus points for face slapping cos I'm a dirty feral slut 👌

Authors Note: Same girl, same….. I hate how short this is but this is what has typed out from my thumbs and my brain. So enjoy

Warnings: P in v sex, public sex, slapping, choking, blood kink sort of, masochism, sadism, forbidden relationship, not entirely sure how to describe this whole thing but it’s got some angst here (if I’ve missed anything you think I should add, then let me know)

Taglist: @sofiyathecunt, @marvelgirl123, @sylasthegrim, @mochi-rose, @valeskafics, @humanpurposes, @watercolorskyy, @blue-serendipity, @omgbrcat

When you first begun sneaking around with Ettore, you were weak.

The way his eyes made you feel so inferior when they looked at you. The way his hands would flex and strain to hold you as he rutted roughly into you against the wall. Even the way his tattoos stood out under the blue light of the hallways made you so weak in his arms.

It made the act of caring for him easier, somehow. Even though you knew you’d never do so properly or truly. He was unable to love.

That much was obvious with how he marked you so ruthlessly and carelessly. His teeth leaving permanent marks in the skin of your neck.

Since you’d begun your strange relationship with him, it’s been obvious that Ettore couldn’t even comprehend the meaning of subtle.

Especially as he fucked you against the wall right now, in the empty dark hallway.

“Such a fucking good pussy…” Ettore groans, his sighs and groans being all you can hear apart from the sticky sounds of his cock entering you, and the slight faint hum of the overhead lights.

You’d stayed silent, yet it seemed Ettore wanted an answer. Some kind of wanton beg or something like that. As his hand releases from your waist and harshly slaps your face without any hesitation.

Yet it’s strange as you hear yourself gasping and feel yourself clenching hard on his cock as you feel the slight stinging where he hit you, you realise how much you liked it.

Huh… who knew you was such a dirty feral slut… you muse. Smirking slightly as you found amusement in the situation.

“What are you laughing for?” He snarls. His hand that is seemingly still warm from his hard he hit you curls around your throat harshly to force you to look at him.

“Nothing at all…” You say, moaning slightly when you feel Ettore hit you again. This time on your other cheek.

“What a dirty bitch…” Ettore grins, resuming his harsh thrusts into you that leave you gasping for air as his hand grasps tighter on your neck. Only you don’t try and fight him to get away. If anything, you begin to smile in a haze of pleasure as your thoughts go dull.

Yet when his hand moves away your almost whine in disappointment when the blood rush flows to your head.

Your own hands that so desperately held onto his arms, now dig deeply into Ettores back. You can see the way the blood that begins to flow to the surface contrasts against the blue light of the hallway, and you find it so oddly beautiful your nails dig even more inside of him so it can drip more.

It’s even better for you when Ettore groans from the pain. Maybe he’s the same sort of sick you are?

The thrum of the hallway lights does nothing to conceal yours and his moans and groans. The sound of which rings in the empty hallway. You almost wish for someone to walk down and find the two of you, the thrill overpowering the overwhelming sense of danger you get whenever you visit Dr Dibbs for one of your many ‘checkups’.

As you think of it, you can suddenly feel Ettores hand that clasps around your neck once more tighten possibly in a warnings manner, and your cunt clenches wantonly around Ettores cock as the slight tinge of pain and pleasure mixes.

“Seems like I’m fucking the biggest whore on this ship…” Ettore groans, taking his hand from your throat to quickly slap at the skin of your cheek three times in quick precision before going back to tightly holding your neck.

Your eyes feel like they roll to the back of your head as the stinging on your cheeks flares, and you can almost practically feel your juices trailing down the skin of your arse as your legs tighten around ettores waist.

Maybe you were the biggest white on this ship… You needed to be to be after willingly agreeing to sleep with Ettore of all people. Especially after knowing his unique history to a certain degree…

Yet your mind is casted away from such thoughts as Ettores cock begins to pound into your rough patch deep inside of you, and suddenly, it’s all over.

The hand on your neck prevents you from sharply intaking, and instead your left only with shallow gasps that leave your head almost blurry and your whole body nearly collapsing.

You can however, as you’re on the verge of consciousness, feel the sudden rush of warmth of Ettores cum as he groans and floods your cunt. Your own cum spilling out of you with his own leaving a crude stain on your black underwear you cannot help but smile at.

“Fucking whore…” Ettore grins as he stalks you back to your room, and watches you collapse into your bed.

“Hmmm yeah…” You groan, getting yourself comfy as your eyes begin to droop from tiredness and pure fatigue.

“But I’m your whore…”

You can only hear the bluntness of a grunt before footsteps begin to echo, and your eyes fall and sleep overtakes you.

When you dream that night, it’s of you and Ettore living in the nuclear family home. You cook the Sunday dinner while Ettore reads the paper at the table, your son and daughter mindlessly chattering to him whilst he murmurs small responses in return.

It makes your heart clench at the memory of it when you find yourself waking up, but you knew what you signed up for the moment you nodded in agreement for his proposition that day. You would never ever get that life.

The next night, when he fucks you against the hallway wall again, your mind can’t help but turn to that dream. That fantasy. Your mind goes fuzzy as Ettores hands leaves red handprints on your neck and cheek, and yet even still, you know you’ve come to accept this as his love. No matter how fucked up it all is, the sex and the doctors unethical experiments included. As he’ll never change.

Ettore will never love you the way you want him too.

#Ettore #ettore fic related #ettore fanfiction #ettore fan fiction #ettore/reader #ettore smut #ettore fanfic #ettore x reader #ewan mitchell character #high life fanfic #high life fanfiction #high life #ewan mitchell fanfiction #ewan mitchell fanfic #ewan mitchell

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hollowwrites · 10 months

Text

Trio Chatter - Three’s a Crowd

Back to my in game BS again. I like to think there would be unique dialogue if you were in the same house as both of your companions

Slytherin

Sebastian - Did I see you hounding the first years by the windows again?

Ominis - Not this time. The squid was just saying Hello. It tapped on the window a few times. It’s surprisingly gentle.

MC - That must be lovely. He only ever slaps the glass when I’m there.

Sebastian - …Can’t believe you’re both being visited by the Squid…I don’t think I’ve ever even seen it…

Ominis - To be fair… nor have I

Ravenclaw

Everett - Do either of you remember the password for the Common Room?

Amit - It’s ‘the future’

Everett - …That doesn’t make any sense

Amit - What is always in front of you but cannot be seen? Your future or the future…either way

Everett - …I thought it was time…

Amit - That doesnt make any sense

Everett - Help me out here

MC - The door just opens for me…

Amit - What?

MC - It’s like the eagle recognises me

Everett and Amit - WHAT?!

Gryffindor

Leander - Did you see Sallow in Charms? Bragging about casting Accio on people…

Garreth - Shall I arrange a date for you two? Maybe it’ll relieve some of the tension between you

MC - I can talk to Sebastian get him to agree to this easily

Leander - What are you two talking about?

Garreth - Clearly you’re into him how much you talk about him…we’re just being good wingmen

MC - First, it’s after Charms, then it’ll be in your sleep

Garreth - I do not want to hear that…

MC - Oh! I happen to know a lovely spot just inside the Forbidden Forest

Leander - I hate you both

Hufflepuff

Arthur - Poppy, we don’t share many classes, do you have an affinity for plants as well as beasts?

Poppy - I don’t no sorry. But our friend here does!

MC - Do you need help with something?

Arthur - It’s rather silly but…one of the dancing cactuses has took to nicking me when I leave the dorms. I’ve tried to pick it up but it just pricks me more.

Poppy - I’m sure between the three of us, we can sort a cactus

MC - I don’t know…this sounds like a particularly fearsome cactus.

Masterlist

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shysneeze · 2 years

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tell me the truth | robin buckley x reader

description: you're sure robin and steve are dating in secret and it leads to arguments and spilled secrets

warnings: arguments, misunderstandings, jealousy, lying, secrets, angsty for like a moment then fluff again, i dont think i used any reader pronouns, let me know what ive missed

a/n: based off this request because ive no self control for blurbs and i never learn

---

Robin pulls anxiously at her rings as she watches you rifle in your hallway closet for a towel, back towards her as she sits silently on the edge of your bathtub. The weather outside is muffled beyond the tiny frosted window behind her, and the only sound is the rain dripping from her hair into the bath, as repetitive as the second hand on a clock.

When you finally turn to face her, it's with a determined look of indifference as you toss her a towel to dry her hair, before settling with your back against the bathroom door frame, arms folded over your chest.

“What are you doing here, Rob?”

You feel guilty for the sharpness in your voice as she looks up at you, wide eyes rimmed with smudged mascara, nose bitten red by the cold. She begins to squeeze the water from her hair with the towel, gulping nervously into the quiet.

“You pulled out of movie night again.”

You bite back an exhausted sigh, staring up at the ceiling. Only Robin Buckley would come all the way to your house in the pouring rain because you haven't been attending your and Steve’s movie nights anymore.

“I told you,” You start your well rehearsed lie, “Homework-”

“It’s not homework,” Robin interrupts, dropping the towel to her shoulders, “You’ve been acting weird around us for weeks now… what’s going on?”

It would be easy enough to tell the truth, or some variation of that actually makes sense; that you don’t like being the third wheel, and you don’t like being lied to all the time. Even now, the truth flares up, prickling your skin with heat, an infuriating mix of jealousy and anger.

You almost want to say it aloud, that you know their little secret: that Steve and Robin are entrapped in some sort of romeo and juliet relationship, forbidden by something you can’t quite decipher, but what would that make you if not a hypocrite?

Whilst Steve and Robin have been hiding their relationship, you’ve been hiding your love for Robin, hidden in the back of your throat behind every lie told to cover it up. It’s beginning to occur to you that what once was friendship between the three of you has become only an entanglement of secrets no one is willing to give up.

“Nothing,” You reply, eyes falling to the floor, “Nothings going on… I’m just busy.”

Robin tuts softly, and a quiet settles between you both. When you look up again, it's to find her already staring, lips pressed into the smallest of pouts. You watch her brows twitch slightly, lips parting with words she hasn’t yet decided upon, before breathing them out in a sigh.

“You never tell me anything, anymore.”

It’s such a sad sound from her lips that your chest tightens with guilt. But in the crease between her brows is an anger, one that riles a frown onto your own face in utter disbelief.

“Me?” You exhale in a bitter laugh, “Oh, you brought a knife to a gunfight, baby.”

“What”

“You don’t get to- to lecture me on what I do and don’t tell you, Robin.” You argue, false calm finally caving, anger swelling as every word comes tumbling out. “I know about you and Steve.”

There it is, the simple truth that’s broken your heart over and over. It leaves a certain hollowness inside you now that it’s out in the open, lingering between you. You wait for her reaction, for panicked excuses and the colour to drain from her cheeks.

Then, she frowns, brows pulled tight with confusion.

“What?”

You let out another scoff.

“You and Steve, Robin,” You spit, “I know you’re dating or whatever, and I can only assume you have your reasons for hiding it from everyone else, but I’m your friend, Robin. Surely you could have told me?”

Robin flinches at the anger in your voice, each word pulled straight from your chest with enough velocity she feels guilty for something she hasn’t even done. She’s blinking up at you, the irritated crease between your brows, downward curve of your lips.

“I have no idea what you're talking about.”

It’s a childish display of anger, but you find your eyes rolling and your arms folding over your chest, turning pettily away from her. Robin’s surprise softens only to recoil into furious confusion, standing up from the edge of the bath with a sharp breath.

“No, I really don’t, (y/n),” She argues, frustration tightening her throat, “Steve and I aren’t dating- or whatever. He’s my best friend and nothing more.”

“You don’t need to lie,” You say stiffly, not daring to turn back towards her now that angry tears have begun to gather in the corners of your eyes. “I see how you act… all cuddled up during movie nights and whispering together.”

You sniffle a little, and Robin’s anger eases just slightly, reaching out to touch your shoulder when you shrug it off taking a step forward, away from her. When you finally turn back, it's with glossy eyes, illuminated by the flickering bathroom light.

“A-are you crying?”

“No.”

Robin brows set into a stern frown once more, growing frustrated with the lies and confusion. Standing there on your bath mat, shivering from the cold and damp from the rain, she gives you the harshest look you’ve ever seen grace her face, and you can see the words clawing up her throat seconds before their out her lips.

“I’m not dating Steve.” She snaps, “And even if I was, why are you being so- so confusing and bitter about it? Why is it any of your business anyway? You hardly hang out with us enough anymore, why do you even care?”

“I don’t hang out with you because I’m always the third wheel!”.

It’s not technically a lie, but as your voice catches with emotion, both of you know it's not the full truth, and a flash of panic flickers behind your eyes as Robin’s eyes narrow, unconvinced.

“A-and you’re my friends.” You add, voice fading weakly, “Surely you should trust me enough to tell me that happy news?”

Robin’s lips purse and she takes a few cautious steps forward, shaking her head. She lifts her hand, and this time, as it settles on your arm, the solemn look in her eyes is enough to disarm you completely, heart racing in your own ears.

“Why are you lying again?” She asks, “Tell me the truth, at least once.”

The anger dies with the softness of her voice and the feeling of her fingers on your arm. Your lips part, this time with the truth, trembling from its hiding place at the back of your throat and entering the world in an exhausted whisper.

“I- I love you, Robin.”

There’s a moment of nothing, no tenseness, no words of surprise, nothing. It’s barely a few seconds, but it's enough time for you to tie your mind in panicked knots, to step out of Robin’s touch before she can pull you back.

“Shit…” You exhale, “Shit- I’m so sorry, Robin.”

Robin is still processing it, jaw slack, pupils blown. She stands there, hand still suspended in the air where it moments ago held your arm, and it’s the quietest you’ve ever heard her.

“I’m sorry,“ You repeat with a sniffle, “I shouldn’t- You’re dating Steve and- oh please don’t tell him that I confessed-”

“I’m not dating Steve.”

It’s such a tired sentence you’re suddenly inclined to believe her, eyes meeting yours with such sincerity that you’re beginning to realise you’ve what a mess you’ve allowed your mind to concoct, a jealousy that wasn’t warranted.

“You’re not?”

“I don’t really have an excuse for whatever cuddling you saw,” She gulps nervously, “That’s just who Steve is, and he’s my bestfriend and I love him as that, my friend… But the whispering I can explain, because I can assure you that it was all about you- not in a mean way! Not whispering about you in a mean way, but about how pretty you always look- well, I was saying that and he was teasing me about it, but you do, look pretty, I mean- Jesus, I’m sorry, you’ve taken my by surprise here, (y/n).”

She laughs awkwardly, fingers combing into her wet hair, tugging it back nervously. There’s a redness climbing her neck, a grin twitching at her lips as she avoids your eyes embarrassedly.

“You really love me?”

Anxiously, you nod.

“Jesus, and you’ve been avoiding me because you're jealous of Steve?”

As she says it now, it seems ridiculous, how caught up in false secrets you were becoming, how heart broken and jealous you’ve been over a relationship that never existed. As you nod, she takes another few steps towards you, shaky hands finding your cheeks.

“I can’t believe it.” She shakes her head in disbelief, “The only one I’ve had my eyes on during movie nights is you, (y/n).”

She smiles, so close that your surprised gasp fans across her lips. Her thumb gently grazes your cheek, before dipping indulgently to swipe across your bottom lip, utterly entranced.

“Robin…”

“Can I kiss you?”

You can only nod, leaning into her touch as her hands pull your face towards her own. Her lips are so soft from the chapstick you’ve watched her apply a million times, and she kisses like it were simply what she was born to do, as if she were made perfectly for your lips.

You allow your fingers to tangle in her wet her, grinning excitedly against her lips as she lets out a whisper of groan into your mouth, stepping forward until your back hits the door frame, and she swallows your soft sound of surprise.

All at once, any jealousy falls away, leaving behind space for the taste of her, for the sensation of her lips on yours and the way her hands have fallen from your cheeks to cup your waist. A certain smugness creeps up on you, an odd sense of victory over Steve you don’t even deserve.

Robin pulls back as her lips are beginning to feel numb, panting softly. You stare at her in stunned surprise. The grin she gives you is so beautiful it makes all the jealousy, and the anger and the heartbreaking longing seem ridiculous.

“I’m sorry,” You realise, “I’ve been so jealous and angry that Ipushed myself away- I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t,” Robin shakes her head quickly, “I’m sorry you felt like I was lying to you… we should have just talked to each other, huh?”

“Yeah,” You admit sheepishly, “Yeah, probably.”

She laughs softly, leaning in to steal another quick kiss before dissolving into a fit of giggles that makes you feel almost self conscious.

“I’m sorry, just… you were jealous of Steve?” She laughs, “The boy who goes through three tins of hairspray a month?”

You shove her with an embarrassed grin.

“Shut up,” You mumble, “You are cuddly though, what else was I meant to think?”

“Your definition of cuddle is so flawed,” Robin says, shaking her head, “You need a lesson.”

It’s so bold from Robin Buckley you do a double take, but she’s blushing so profusely at her own boldness that you know it’s exactly the same dorky girl you fell for so hard, you created an entire relationship to be jealous of.

Reaching out for her hand you roll your eyes and lead her from the bathroom.

“You need dry clothes first,” You inform, “I’m not cuddling you all soggy like that.”

“You’re a fast learner.”

tag list: @woahhhfidget @sireeeeee @lovelyy-moonlight @starselle @robinsprker @flourelle @robinbuckleysgfreall @robinbuckleyluvr @lesbiihoenestt @sumobug @milkiane @janeswhore @strvngerrose

a/n: as usual, feedback is welcomed with open arms, hope u enjoyed, i’m going to sleep now :)

#bee writes #robin buckley x reader #robin x reader #robin buckley x you #robin buckley x y/n #robin buckley headcanon #robin buckley fic #robin buckley imagines #robin buckley imagine #reader insert #stranger things x reader #anons: n

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ineffable-endearments · 7 months

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Deep dive into The Coffee

The following is primarily about the symbolism of the Metatron's coffee.

Once I started thinking about it, there's a lot of cool stuff going on there (depending on whether you think, you know, symbolism is "cool," but I do!).

I think it points toward certain interpretations of what the characters are feeling and what their motivations are, but it isn't about the coffee itself affecting the plot beyond the obvious (it's a love-bomb the Metatron is using to seem friendly).

I was thinking about The Coffee as a sort of shadow version of the Fruit of Knowledge and wondering: why the heck would you choose coffee for this symbolism? It's obviously a very common, non-suspicious beverage in Soho, but surely they could come up with some creative reason for the Metatron to come bearing pretty much any edible item. Out of all the foods and beverages in the world, why coffee? Why not, for example, fruit, or Eccles cakes, or meat - or, for that matter, tea, or cocoa, which we already know Aziraphale enjoys?

But it does make sense. And it also makes sense that it's not just a cup of coffee, it's an oat milk latte with a dash/hefty jigger of almond syrup.

Here, I'll be making the big assumption that the Fruit of Knowledge is relevant to Aziraphale as a metaphor - as something he would consider desirable but forbidden. He was supposed to be guarding it in Eden ("technically, I was on apple tree duty"). And Crowley, with his red hair like the apple, has spent the past 6000 years trying to impart the knowledge of "good" and "evil" to Aziraphale, who in turn has desperately wanted Crowley and also considered him off-limits. Crowley is Aziraphale's Apple of Eden.

Here are a few observations about The Coffee, contrasted with the Fruit of Knowledge and, in some cases, the ox ribs.

The coffee is heavily processed - Fruits, including the apple in Eden, exist straight from the natural world in a form that you can pluck from a tree and eat almost whole. Meanwhile, coffee has to go through a lot of processing between the time it's a coffee berry (also a fruit!) and the moment it's recognizable as the beverage so many people immediately reach for every morning. There's a long, often-unethical production chain there, involving many people.

The oat milk latte with almond syrup is further complicated. The apple is plain and straightforward - it simply is Knowledge in fruit form. It's "pure." The coffee was already heavily processed to become coffee, and now multiple other ingredients have been added. A fancy latte beverage involves the preparation of the milk and the syrup in addition to the coffee beans.

There's a lot going on behind the scenes here. There may, as Crowley pointed out, have been a lot going on behind the scenes in Eden with the Apple purposely placed for the humans to see, but it still feels like there's significance to the difference between a thing that springs from the ground as a food item and a thing that has to be processed over and over before it's ready to consume.

Maybe the point is that the Apple of Eden did exactly what it was said to do from the beginning - gave Adam and Eve Knowledge one way or another - whereas the coffee is a heavily-altered, almost unrecognizable version of the truth.

The coffee is heavily sweetened with additives - This is the real important part for me. Fruit is, broadly speaking, naturally sweet. This obviously varies from piece to piece, as anyone who's sorted through a pile of fruit at the supermarket would know, but the most widely-understood appeal of fruit as a concept is its sweetness. Without any other input, we could guess the Fruit of Knowledge was pretty sweet, too.

Meat, ox ribs, are very different from fruit, obviously. Savory and a bit salty. But they are another food item with broad appeal.

Coffee, particularly espresso, is naturally bitter, to the point where drinking it black is often an acquired taste. The Metatron picked a particularly sweet type of milk and a sweet-flavored syrup.

He had to sweeten his deal a lot to make it palatable to Aziraphale.

The coffee is not "of the flesh" - There are no animal products listed in the ingredients to the Metatron's latte. It's vegan. Oat milk is plant-based. Almond syrup is a plant flavor, likely made with sugar, also a plant. Coffee is a plant.

Aziraphale's other major culinary experience this season? The one where he become more worldly, more of-the-flesh? Yeah, the ox ribs. Meat. The latte is, I suspect, the Metatron's subtle rejection of that worldly pleasure.

The coffee is not Aziraphale's usual preference - We've never seen Aziraphale drink coffee before. We've seen him drink wine and tea and hot cocoa and champagne and sherry, but never coffee; in fact, Crowley's espresso order seems to be set up in contrast to Aziraphale's taste. And when the Metatron brings it to him, Aziraphale initially hesitates. To be fair, I do read his enjoyment of the latte as genuine. I don't think he was lying when he said it tasted good. But he only drinks it after an awkward push from the Metatron.

The coffee contrasts with Crowley's espresso - Season 2 is bookended by espresso beverages. At the beginning, Crowley enthusiastically downs an absurdly hype-inducing, bitter concoction of six espresso shots all in one gulp to prepare for whatever weirdness is waiting for him in the bookshop. He doesn't seem to care either way about the taste. At the end, Aziraphale hesitantly sips his heavily-diluted, sweetened espresso under social pressure. He does admit he likes the taste.

Give Me Coffee Or Give Me Death - The Metatron points out the name of the coffee shop, which possibly sets us up to consider that a choice between anything and death isn't really a choice at all. He also muses that people are very predictable for always choosing coffee over death. This is all done outside of Aziraphale's awareness. Maybe that's because the coffee vs death thing is more about the Metatron's underlying motivations - to coerce and force Aziraphale to accept his role in Heaven no matter what - than about something Aziraphale is consciously aware of.

So, since I'm theorizing that the coffee is a metaphor for the Metatron's offer, here's what I think it's hinting toward.

Aziraphale's emotions and motivations:

Aziraphale didn't start that conversation with any interest in what the Metatron was saying. Coffee's not his order. This didn't start out as a successful temptation, per se. It was a coercion that appeared harmless on the surface (drink the coffee/entertain the conversation to be polite).

Now that they've had their conversation, Aziraphale did like some aspects of the Metatron's offer. That part is a successful temptation.

If we assume Aziraphale really liked the coffee and then run a parallel to the Metatron's offer, it's not hard to see what sufficiently "sweetened the deal" for him: the offer to bring Crowley to Heaven. The Apple of Eden, Crowley, gave Aziraphale the knowledge of good and evil; the sweetened coffee - the suggestion that Heaven could change its mind about Crowley - once again obscured it.

All that stuff about Heaven being the side of Truth and Light and Good came out because Heaven appeared to be changing its mind about Crowley. Crowley is kind of symbolic of everything on Earth for Aziraphale, so presumably, if it can change its mind about Crowley, then it could do things better for Earth, right? Heaven's good intentions must have been sincere after all.

The Metatron's offer and underlying plan:

The Metatron has a complex plan. He's manipulating a lot of people, not just Aziraphale.

The Metatron is using sweetness to conceal a bitter plan that he knows Aziraphale will find unpalatable (separating him from Crowley).

The Metatron is going to present going to Heaven as a choice, but it isn't really one.

For some reason, the Metatron does need Aziraphale back in Heaven, and it's easier if he comes willingly, perhaps if he believes it's his own choice. They're not going to send a bunch of disguised Archangels to abduct him this time.

The Aftermath

So, Aziraphale has been taken in by the coffee, the Foisted Fruit, although the Metatron was not actually giving him a choice at all. Aziraphale botched the philosophical talk, but his choice has probably put off something worse.

Note that in the Final Fifteen, Aziraphale essentially tries to present the same temptation he fell for to Crowley: we can be together in Heaven.

But unlike what Adam did with Eve, Crowley rejects it, because he sees right through it. Instead, he counters with the truth about Heaven and the truth about his own feelings, both in verbal form and with a kiss, once again reprising his role as the Serpent of Eden and the Apple of Knowledge.

Aziraphale, having already swallowed the belief that Heaven is capable of changing, feels Crowley's attempt to disillusion him is a betrayal, an attempt to stop him from doing Good. Notice how when Aziraphale touches his lips longingly after the kiss, he finishes by looking angry and wiping, as if to dismiss what's been shared with him. But you can't un-eat fruit. And you can't be un-kissed.

The Metatron comes back while Aziraphale is clearly having a crisis of conscience. Try as he might to wipe the kiss away, it happened. And he heard the things Crowley said. And he keeps glancing toward Crowley.

This is a tricky moment in the Metatron's plan, because the sweetener he used to get Aziraphale to "drink the coffee"/accept Heaven is no longer in there with Crowley out of the picture. He rushes in and pushes Aziraphale to start his new job, dismissing Aziraphale's excuses. The fact that the Metatron needed Aziraphale without Crowley was the bitterness in the plan that he had to disguise with sweeteners.

Aziraphale, left without sufficient time to think, resolves to simply not think about his first choice, the choice that just walked out the door.

And then, at the last second, to ensure Aziraphale gets in that elevator, the Metatron reveals that the next step in the Great Plan is the Second Coming. Why reveal it at the last second, when Aziraphale is going to get on the elevator anyway?

Because it's the clincher. The Metatron knows Aziraphale won't be able to resist trying to make a difference.

He needed to divide Aziraphale and Crowley. He needed to get Aziraphale's hopes up about being able to make a difference with Crowley first. Then he needed those hopes dashed harshly so that Aziraphale would be at a loss, susceptible to joining Heaven to find a purpose again, now that Crowley is out of his life and the bookshop is being looked after.

And now, by emphasizing Aziraphale's knowledge of Earth and telling him the plan to destroy it at the same time, the Metatron gives Aziraphale a whole new purpose: thwart the Second Coming.

This has been the "predictable" part that the Metatron was scoffing about in the coffee shop. He knew that chain of events would happen. He knew Crowley would reject any suggestion of returning to Heaven, and he knew that would leave Aziraphale upset and vulnerable enough to be swept away, and he knew saving Earth would matter to Aziraphale.

THIS is the moment Aziraphale realizes he's choosing between coffee and death. He has to choose the coffee, of course.

But Crowley has rejected Heaven. He hasn't rejected Aziraphale. He's still there.

And Aziraphale looks back at Crowley the instant he's told Earth is in danger again. You can be confused, but you can't un-eat the Apple of Knowledge. He hasn't forgotten.

There is an alternate reading here: Aziraphale lied about enjoying the coffee, and he is also lying about his beliefs about Heaven being genuinely good, and he recognized that he was choosing between coffee and death way earlier, during the conversation when the Metatron brought up Crowley. I like that reading, too, and it would indeed change the flavor of some of the things that happen afterward.

But either way, we reach the same point at the end of the episode. That grin in the elevator? Maybe that's Aziraphale realizing he's going to have to be unpredictable, just as Crowley said he could.

#good omens #go s2 #good omens 2 #good omens 2 spoilers #good omens spoilers #go s2 spoilers

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