#also the worst part is the reason i even started thinking about this too hard is becasue me and pseud put eod!beat in our joke crossover rp

[theminecraftbee]

Wels hums as he walks through the shopping district. He doesn't need much, but with the recent release of Overlord, he wants to hear if any of the establishments are playing it. He doesn't expect it somewhere like the Permit Office--Grian's spent too much time and money getting a song that was as perfectly annoying to be put on hold to as possible--and if it is playing in the log shop, he will laugh. But music tends to spread around Hermitcraft fast, and sure, this isn't about anything specific, but who's gonna miss a good opportunity to dunk on Doc?

He hears the backing beats from a nearby shop and hums along with them, walking down the path--

--then turns a corner and leaps back.

"You," Wels hisses.

Hello. Awfully rude of you not to include me, you know, says the specter.

"No, there's absolutely no reason for you to be here. None at all!" Wels says, throwing his hands up. "The last time I saw you was--gosh, I don't even know. Season Seven?"

Yes, yes, and the only time you saw me, you aren't lying to yourself at all, the specter says agreeably. Come on. We both know I was haunting you for what little of Season Eight you bothered to be around for.

"If you were on Eight then you super shouldn't be here," Welsknight says. He shakes his head and looks up at the shop playing his song. Joel's? Huh. Wouldn't have thought he'd have a reason to make fun of Doc. Welsknight removes his shaking hand from his sword hilt again and starts walking.

On account of you leaving everyone there to die, yes, we're both aware, the specter says.

"Oh, screw you, you wouldn't have done any different, get new material," Wels says. "Also, you aren't real? You're like, all of my insecurities or whatever. You don't even have a real body right now, no one's made you one."

The specter shrugs. I mean, if I'm the worst parts of yourself, really, you're the one who needs better material. Abandoning all your friends to die and then abandoning them altogether--it's a wonder they let you stick around!

Wels rolls his eyes and forces his hand to stay out of his inventory. Wouldn't do to give away that still even gets him. He peaks at another shop. They're playing the song too, but it's ever-so-slightly out of sync, which is kind of terrible. As he does, Cleo waves at him. Their eyes sort of stutter right past Helsknight, which definitively tells him exactly how much body the specter even has to possess right now.

"I'm actually having a great time with my friends this season, so like, the whole 'abandonment' song and dance isn't going to work this time. Started the season with them and everything; hard to even go for 'they'll forget me at the first opportunity' or whatever."

The thing is, the more Wels says it, the more its true. None of the insecurities and pain points that the specter is echoing back at him are what he was actually thinking about. He's been like... fine? Sure, he's definitely still got repressed negative traits, but nothing like "Xisuma's evil twin brother playing around with his head" or "the moon crashing and killing everyone" or "too depressed and burnt out to get out of bed" or "sort of considering abandoning everyone because that's like, his thing" these days. None of the things that should bring the specter that had haunted him since Beef's cloning machine back to him without a body. But Wels is careful about clones outside of something like Vault Hunters, where they're explicitly under his control. He, like, doesn't even armor stand much. So that can't be this either; Helsknight clearly doesn't have a body to be messing with Wels yet!

...Helsknight doesn't even have a body or an actual insecurity to be poking at Wels with yet.

He stops. He puts his hands in his pockets, and turns around to face Helsknight. He is no longer shaking at all.

"Dude, why are you even here?" Wels asks.

I told you, it was rude to leave me out, Helsknight says.

"What," Wels says.

The final bars of Overlord play over the speakers. Welsknight hums and nods before it suddenly clicks.

"What," Wels says again.

Honestly, you're not normally this much of a moron. It was rude to leave me out. Rapping is also my thing.

"Dude," Wels says.

I could totally destroy Docm77 any day. I would obliterate the fool you call a "friend" in ways you cannot comprehend. You invoke a sacrificial goat? I know ways he'd never recover, gods he'd never be able to retrieve himself from. It would be laughable. And you left me out.

Wels stares at the demon from his nightmares.

"You're mad at me because you didn't get to be in my diss track," Wels says.

You let me be in the last one, Helsknight says.

"Dude," Wels says. "Dude, that's pathetic."

Helsknight sniffs. I'm your worst qualities. What does that say about you.

"I didn't even write this for this season," Wels says.

That makes it worse, Helsknight says.

"I don't even know where to start? For one--no, I still don't even know where to start," Wels says. "This is like, the lamest reason you could possibly have to come haunt me. Go away, I'm basking in my like, top 3 charting hit on the Hermitcraft server."

Top three? Pathetic. There are only three songs. You'd be the top song if you'd simply included my power, Helsknight says.

"I can't beat the streaming minutes Grian puts on that hold--look, uh, dude. You're, uh, a very scary representation of my fears and worst qualities and all. Appreciate that. Next time I need to do a diss track, I don't know, maybe I'll invite you? First you've got to stop appearing solely to make my life worse, though. Bring me a cookie or something. I don't know, whatever demons do."

I'm not a demon, I'm a Shadow. We're different, Helsknight says. ...I'll think about it.

When Wels turns the next corner, Helsknight has vanished again. Wels stops in the middle of the street, looks around, confirms the specter has vanished, and then bursts out laughing.

"What the Hels," he says, somehow feeling lighter and more bemused than before. That's a new feeling with his doppleganger. Then, he goes to visit Big Wood. While Doc definitely isn't playing the song of his own accord, Wels figures that Beef just might, and given the day he's having, that would feel like a kind of irony Wels isn't sure how to describe. Besides, he wants to see if Doc will notice if Wels sets the song on loop or something. What can he say--the man's reactions to being taunted are spectacular, and Wels loves seeing them. Call it a bad quality of his or something.

#hermitcraft #welsknight #helsknight #a bee fic #hermitfic #unreality #LOOK MAN I HAD TO. #...APPARENTLY. #i put slightly too much thought into what is effectively A Dumb Bit. i mean not the rap. this fic. this fic is the dumb bit. #i mean the rap is a dumb bit too but not the one i put too much thought into. the fic is #YOU KNOW WHAT NEVERMIND THIS JUST CONFUSED THIS FURTHER. anyway that helsknight huh.

[48787]

New Transmission The fucking Scientific Instrument Class Pseudocons apparently developed what they're calling "Hetero Sapience" and are corrupting the brainmodules of the non-Pseudo 'cons around them by using annoying xenophilosophy words. Soundwave tells me they're 'Greek' and 'Latin' words, apparently. Cool, I guess? Anyway, if you see any SI Class 'cons causing... issues, just try your hardest to turn your brainmodule off before you start getting infected with their weird lingo, alongside all the other issues pertaining to letting the SI Pseudocons transmit data into your brainmodule in their own weird ways. Thundercracker, on a bet with Starscream, tried to get into an argument with one of them and his head literally exploded when it started talking about Alpha Trion's "Mythological Origins" in its weird dialect. He's mostly fine, CR Pods are working at 'peak' efficiency, but the facial reconstruction is apparently impossible due to some kind of corruption. I thought it was just some weird prank but there weren't even any scorch marks or anything. Just exploded. So yeah, just avoid optical contact and auditory contact to the best of your ability and you should be fine. Otherwise, try to force-shutdown your brainmodule if you can. Shockwave is working on a cure right now, mostly because I know he had something to do with this in the first place so he's going to be the one to fix it. He probably wanted a greater justification to do that weird data-transfer idea he mentioned previously. But it also explains the weird Thunderwing hypotheticals he's been asking me lately... Can I go one fucking cycle without someone trying to "Perfect Thunderwing's Work" or whatever other idiotic drivel that I keep finding our limited energon reserves siphoned into?? It's not even a Shockwave thing, it's like every damn Cybertronian these days thinks they have the "Missing piece of the puzzle" or whatever. In fact, Shockwave might be doing this as a weird threat against the other R&D 'cons to cement himself as the one and only Decepticon "Allowed" to have resources wasted on projects like that. Ugh, now that I think about it, that's probably a correct assumption and he's probably gonna expect me to thank him for it later. Ugh, and he's probably literally right. Ugh. At least his repairs both to himself and to his lab seem to be mostly complete so further research into the SI project should hopefully come along a little faster. Both Shockwave and Soundwave think the SIs could potentially be used as some kind of specialty weapon, but we'll have to see how they work on sparkless lifeforms, like biological lifeforms or xenomechanical lifeforms. The SIs don't seem to corrupt each other, but Shockwave keeps reaffirming that they're not "Sparkless Lifeforms" because they "were never lifeforms to begin with"... but I think he's trying to hide something. Usually Soundwave is the one to pick up on that kind of technological obfuscation, but he actually agreed with Shockwave and offered to send Ratbat to try to work out exactly what each "sapient" SI is now capable of on a personal level. We could have just had regular Cybertronians aboard to fill the role SIs fill. I would've preferred K Class to fill any role an SI could fill in all honesty!! But no, constructing cold wasn't enough, we just had to try to learn how to "Construct Frozen" and the "Absolute Zeroes" just had to be put on my ship. Whatever. I've probably said too much already. This was supposed to be a warning for my ship crew, but it's looking like it'll end up being transcribed on the golden disk as well so when this new Scientific Instruments of Destruction project backfires in some absurdly bombastic way there will at least be something remaining that says I was right. End of Transmission

New Transmission Okay so I was right, but so was Shockwave and Soundwave. Or, well, they were right just enough to make sure the backfire is postponed for at least another handful of cycles. Ratbat is still in CR from the investigation, but the cure Shockwave developed seems to be effective and Thundercracker is out and aiding the repair effort. Shockwave is now in contact with one of the SIs digitally and the other few are... integrating due to the personal efforts of Soundwave. I suppose now would be pertinent to mention not all the SIs developed the "Hetero Sapience" condition, many of them are safe for interaction. Soundwave is also currently monitoring their presence, Ravage is tasked with the regular SIs and Laserbeak is tasked with the "Sapient" SIs. Shockwave probably knows exactly what caused this event but he is preoccupied with the one he no doubt is either indoctrinating or ruthlessly interrogating. Report to Soundwave if you see any suspicious behavior, he has been working very hard to ensure the SIs have their purpose clearly defined (And closely monitored). And, Starscream, stop trying to convince the SIs that you are the leader of this ship. Not only have the majority of your efforts been wasted on subsentient automata, the only one you have actually found who possesses the ability to truly listen to you immediately came to the bridge to complain about you. They were the first sapient SI I communicated with directly and it was because they felt the need to complain about you. I almost feel embarrassed for you. Come back to the bridge so you can apologize to it or so I can teach it how to laugh at you. It's practicing right now actually! This moment of chaos should hopefully be largely under control now, the actual "population" of Scientific Instrument Class Pseudocons was actually quite fewer than initially expected due to an indexing error incorrectly labeling certain shells as SI class. At the very least, we have some more specialty warriors because of it all. End of Transmission EOF

#yippie peace through tyranny!! #nemesis posting #Decepticon High Command Slice of Life rambles #Matrix Visions #I like this “chat” font I think it's cool #spacebridge still needs more time in the oven unfortunately #I'm also procrastinating on that because I can't seem to wrap my head around guestmount but do not want to send backup files one at a time #wegh. It'll get done. Eventually. #I'll have so much more bullshit once I actually finish the damn comic my wife radically altered my life with hehehe #I cannot wait to start posting about Alpharius Trionicon. He's the fucking worst if you couldn't tell by name alone and I love him so much #Anyway I just had a very specific joke/pun in my head in the shower then it turned into a whole *thing* like it usually does. #I usually don't explain shit but the shower idea centered around getting the SI acronym to work for hyper specific jokes. #Still can't decide if I want to lock in on “Scientific Instrument” because it fits *so well* for *so many reasons* #But “Synthetic Intelligence” is more generic in a more understandable way... Eeh.. It's a little *too* generic. “Instrument” is cooler. #Once my wife helps me understand her lil fucker more I'll come up with an even shitter joke using “Y/N” so I can do Y/N x SI x SI bullshit! #Oh! The matrix triune project is coming along slowly as well!! I think I mentioned that microphone project once or twice now hehe #I'm gonna make so many shitty covers of songs once I get the soundproofing to start focusing on vocal training stuff #It's been quite a fun time aboard the nemesis!! There's so much to “Blog” about that it's hard to really know when to start *or* stop hehe! #And the fact that all these projects are all interwoven is so fucking wonderful!! I FINALLY feel able to fully grasp my own focus!! #My brain is like a particle collider for certain interests now. I can reliably just.. Spit things out and tie it into the other interests! #It's sometimes exhausting but in such a new way. Like a relieving exhaustion? #Still figuring that part out!! #Anyway that's enough personal project vagueposting I should really be getting back to work hehe this was fun

[wr0ngwarp]

totally normal non-weird beat doodle that has no insane creepypasta joke au baggage (<- BLATANT LIE (WARNING FOR GORE/BODY HORROR IN LINK))

#jet set radio #pokepasta #creepypasta #beat jsr #explorers of death #crossover #blood #jsr eod #me making the eod jsr joke au like ''theres no way ill think too hard about the implications of this and get genuinely sad'' #<- GUY WHO ALWAYS THINKS TOO HARD ABOUT THE IMPLICATIONS OF JOKES AND GETS GENUINELY SAD #for those who arent familiar with explorers of death (why would you even look at this post? go read it) #[SPOILERS] squirtle (who beat is in the role of in this au) Wins at the end by murdering vulpix and thus becoming the True Hero #but like. the myras are essentially meant to be the Same Person yknow. and just fucking hate each other #beat and corn are. yknow... presumably. friends. not to even fucking mention gum as shadow who is SUPER doomed #so. basically. me joking aroudn like ''lmao joke eod crossover au where the ggs murder each other'' #''........OH GOD. I JUST MADE A FUCKING AU WHERE THE GGS MURDER EACH OTHER. WHY DID I DO THAT?'' #EXPLORERS OF DEATH ALWAYS MAKES ME SAD WHY DID I THINK /THIS/ WOULDNT MAKE ME SAD #also the worst part is the reason i even started thinking about this too hard is becasue me and pseud put eod!beat in our joke crossover rp #WITH THE GODDAMN YOYO WAREHOUSE (LONG STORY) #SO IVE BEEN FORCED TO THINK ABOUT HIM LONG ENOUGH THAT ITS MAKING ME FEEL SHRIMP EMOTIONS #ABOUT THIS GODDAMN AU THAT INTENTIONALLY DOESNT ACTUALLY HAVE ANY INTERNAL CONSISTENCY #THEY STILL LIVE IN TREASURE TOWN LIKE ITS A PMD GAME FOR GODSSAKES #every day i spiral further into my ouroboros of madness and its my own fault

[neptuneiris]

detachment (02/03)

did Aemond Targaryen truly loved you?

pairing: prince!aemond × niece!reader

summary: aemond not only breaks your heart after so many love promises, he also breaks his betrothal to you without any justification and announces his betrothal to a baratheon girl. now you will be married soon too.

word count: 7.9k

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hello beautiful people, finally here is the chapter you have been waiting for so long, im so happy, I hope you like it a lot❤ thank you very much for reading🥺

comments and reblogs are always appreciated, thank u, you are all awesome❣

—TWO MOONS AGO.

"I'm so sorry, my sweet girl."

"No, it's all right, mother. Do not worry."

"I know this is not what you wished for but—

"It is my wish."

You interrupt your mother with a small smile that she instantly knows is neither genuine nor convincing, to which she watches you for a few moments without saying anything, watching you intently.

She takes your hand and places the other on your right cheek to come closer and leave a sweet kiss on your left cheek that you allow to feel that love that only she transmits and comforts you.

She then pulls away from you a little without letting go and watches you with a small smile on her lips and a slight gleam in her beautiful lilac eyes.

"You know you have my full support, my love. And don't even think that I will leave you alone in all this," she assures you, "But I know you and you must not lie to me, Y/N."

You know that at this moment your gaze gives you away, as well as all the true feelings you are conveying but you still want to show your mother that you are willing to do your duty.

And it really is your relief that it is this person you are going to marry when it could have been worse.

"Mother, you must not worry about me."

"But of course I do," she tells you instantly, "You're my daughter and I love you."

"I love you too. But this marriage to Cregan Stark couldn't be better not only for me, but for the whole family," you remind her, "He is a respectful and honorable man. I know there will be much respect between us and eventually affection will be born. And we will have all the support of the North when the time comes for you to become queen."

She smiles softly again with that warmth and affection, gently stroking your cheek with her thumb, looking directly into your eyes with all that sincerity and love.

"But he's not the one you wish to marry, is he?"

So all those pent up feelings, they want to come out at that moment. And even more so because of the way she is talking to you and understands you completely.

"Even with all that your marriage to Cregan Stark offers…. it's not him."

You swallow hard and press your lips together, starting to feel the tears want to come out of your eyes, as well as all that feeling for everything that happened and thinking about everything that could have been.

You remember how a while ago everything was fine, how everything seemed fine, how you thought you knew certain things and knew certain people.

However, he broke your heart.

Worst of all, you never knew why. You really wanted to know what had happened, what had changed his mind and if you had done something wrong, but… nothing.

He left you totally in the dark with his reasons. He preferred you to suffer and forget everything as if nothing had happened from one day to the next to accept his sudden betrothal to Floris Baratheon.

And you truly wanted to understand at the time, feeling completely broken and shattered… but he never gave you an answer.

"It doesn't matter anymore, mother. He is betrothed and now so am I. I do not doubt that after my wedding with lord Stark, his with lady Baratheon will happen soon after. He made his decision moons ago and now so have I."

"Very well," she nods at you, "You learned quickly, my sweet girl. Just as I had to when I accepted my fate."

You smile.

"You mean my father?"

"Our story was in short times, always with a lot of duty involved and inconveniences. Until we could finally be together after that horrible night," she tells you softly, "But when you truly love a person, you can't help it and you just want to join your blood with them, no matter what."

You nod, lowering your gaze, understanding.

But really understanding.

You know that feeling and you know exactly who you used to feel that way with. You were even close to being able to bond forever. But now… you're about to do your duty without that person.

"Then, my sweet girl…" your mother says to you, getting your attention again, "I'll just make sure to arrive at King's Landing a day before the wedding, as you asked. Everything will be ready by the time we get there."

You smile softly in her direction, feeling very relieved at that and nod.

"Thank you, mother."

"Anything for you, my love."

After spending part of your afternoon with your mother, you head to another of the great rooms of the Dragonstone castle, where your brothers are practicing High Valyrian and your younger brothers are being cared for by the maids.

You immediately join in caring for your brothers, listening to Jace and Luke's Valyrian, correcting them on some pronunciations and helping them to formulate words correctly.

Then Rhaena enters the room as well to look after and keep little Joffrey company, letting you know that Baela has flown to Driftmark.

Normally as the night draws in, your mother and father also spend time in this Room, all together as a family, a time when Rhaenyra wishes she could freeze and stay all together like this forever.

And that's exactly what she thinks when she enters the Room and sees all her children, or almost all of them, together attending to different duties, with a little smile and loving look on her face.

Daemon is writing something on the large table, to which she turns to him, stroking her barely noticeable two-moon belly, with a new member to the family coming into the world soon, the prince or princess.

"What are you writing, my love?"

Daemon raises his gaze to her, with the seal of House Targaryen about to embed it in the letter.

"The word to Kings Landing with the news of Y/N's marriage to Lord Stark."

"Ah yes, I forgot to do that."

"And that's why I do it for you, ābrazȳrys."

Rhaenyra leaves a soft and loving kiss on her husband's head to continue on her way to her eldest sons, listening attentively to the High Valyrian, just like Y/N, ready to correct them.

Not long after, considering that the distance between Dragonstone and Kings Landing is not too much, the raven arrives at the Red Keep with the new and unexpected news, with Queen Alicent and her father Otto Hightower reading the message.

The Heir, Princess Rhaenyra returns to King's Landing in less than two moons with her prince consort Prince Daemon and her entire family to celebrate the wedding of Princess Y/N Velaryon to Lord Cregan Stark, Lord of Winterfell.

"This is vile and disgusting news."

"Father—

"With Lord Cregan Stark?" inquires Otto, "Do you know what this means, Alicent?"

"It can't be that bad, still Daeron's wedding to Lady Lannister adds soldiers and ships to us for Aegon's claim. So does Aemond's wedding to lady Baratheon."

"Rhaenyra will have the whole North on her side by the time the time comes and you know it. The whole fucking North fighting for her and her bastard daughter!" Otto exclaims in annoyance, "We can't let that wedding happen."

"Rhaenyra must already be getting everything ready at Dragonstone. And to try to stop her the wedding, she could easily marry Y/N to Lord Stark somewhere else," says the queen, "It will be useless."

"Call the Maester. Call the entire Council, immediately," Otto quickly orders one of his guards, annoyed and desperate.

The guard immediately complies with the Hand's order, so that very soon all the members enter and take their respective seats in the Council Chamber.

But not long after, Aegon and Aemond Targaryen also decide to burst into the room, Aemond mostly noticing that something is wrong and Aegon simply following, his grandsire surprised to see him in his five senses.

"What's the matter?" asks Aemond serious, approaching his mother.

But before his own mother can answer him, his grandsire does, only without answering him.

"Your wedding to Lady Baratheon will happen by the end of this month."

Aemond immediately observes his grandsire without any expression, hiding his surprise well, drawing the attention of everyone else in the room.

"We will send word to Storm's End's, Lady Floris should already be here by in less than five days and prepare everything immediately," Otto continues, "Not too soon after, we will send a raven to Oldtown and Prince Daeron's wedding to Lady Cerelle will also happen."

"May I ask, my Lord Hand, why so hurriedly?" asks lord Lannister.

"Yes, why?" inquires Aemond of his grandsire as well, with a tone of voice and a menacingly serious look.

But Otto Hightower deliberately ignores his grandson.

"Are you not pleased with the news, Lord Jason?" he inquires condecently, "After all, it is your daughter who is to marry a prince of the realm, my grandson."

"Not that I am complaining, my Lord, in fact I have been waiting to hear this news ever since we agreed to join our houses. But I was also hoping, just like my daughter, that the wedding would be relevant and not too attached to another wedding also of another prince of the realm. It certainly would not draw the attention of our people."

"This is not about getting people's attention, nor how attractive the union is, Lord Jason," Otto tells him seriously and clearly annoyed, "You should feel grateful that the union is going to happen, because I remind you that this is about Prince Aegon's claim to the Throne, or have you already forgotten?"

"I asked you a question and I'm not going to repeat myself," Aemond speaks again in his grandsire's direction, serious.

This immediately gets everyone's attention, but in the end it is Queen Alicent who responds in a soft, cautious voice.

"Y/N is going to be married."

This immediately gets Aemond's attention and also Aegon behind him, who was disinterested and even annoyed to hear his grandsire's words about his claim to the Iron Throne.

But this definitely gets his attention, he even watches his brother cautiously, waiting for his reaction, just like his mother.

However, Aemond keeps his usual neutral and at the same time serious face, hiding his true emotions very well, starting to feel how those true emotions run through his whole body and want to explode.

Otto watches him attentively, annoyed and serious, instantly knowing very well what he must be feeling. And that is what he, Otto Hightower, does not want.

"Yes, Aemond, with Cregan Stark, the Lord of Winterfell," he tells him seriously, "You too have already forgotten why you are marrying Lady Baratheon precisely?"

Aemond clenches his jaw, immediately this getting his attention and watching his grandsire with a deadly and threatening look, all this together with his posture showing that he is losing his patience.

And that everyone notices.

"Aemond," Alicent calls out to him, rising from his seat.

"When?"

Aemond's voice interrupts him, in the direction of his grandsire, his whole posture tense and his hands made into fists, his jaw clenched and his gaze like that of a dragon about to burn everything to the ground.

"I told you, by the end of this month your wedding—

"No, when will Y/N's wedding to Cregan Stark be."

He interrupts her in a firm, menacingly serious voice.

"It doesn't matter when it will be," Otto tells him in annoyance, raising his voice higher, drawing everyone's attention, demanding, "What matters right now is that these two weddings happen before the wedding of Rhaenyra's daughter to Lord Stark so as to invite all the great houses, even Cregan Stark and form alliances before Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon."

"In two moons, approximately."

Alicent replies to Aemond, noting how his anger grows more and more as his grandsire speaks, not giving him an answer.

"That's what they said on the raven they sent this afternoon from Dragonstone."

Aemond lowers his gaze, beginning to think about it, about how the wedding will take place here, at King's Landing, where he will have to be present and witness it all…to Y/N, his Y/N, getting married to Lord Cregan Stark.

Lord Cregan fucking Stark.

"I doubt we can do anything about it, my Lord," Jasper Wylde speaks, "The wedding is already a done deal, we will not succeed in convincing Lord Stark to change his allegiance."

"And this is a great advantage for Princess Rhaenyra and her claim," says Jason Lannister, " Her daughter, Princess Y/N and Lord Stark together is an excellent and convenient match."

At the words of some of the council members, Aemond can't help but feel downright sick, thinking of Y/N and Lord Stark.

As you should.

His own mind tells him, feeling the fire and anger coursing through his veins, unable to control himself, thinking about what is really going on here.

"We will do whatever it takes to still have as much support as possible. King Viserys will not last long and by now we would have to secure all possible alliances for when the time comes. If war falls upon us and if we pull this off… fighting Rhaenyra and her alliances won't be so hard."

"She will have the entire North fighting for her, my Lord."

One of the members tells him cautiously, thinking about the number of soldiers Princess Rhaenyra will have at her disposal, also all the people supporting her claim, that adding up to the whole Valley.

"That's why we need to be more clever," Otto Hightower insists, "My grandchildren's weddings will be paramount in this. We need to send a raven to Oldtown, now," he turns to the Maester, "I need Daeron here at King's Landing and your daughter as well, Lord Jason. After Aemond's wedding, he—

"No."

Aemond Targaryen completely interrupts his grandsire in front of the Queen and the entire Council, drawing everyone's attention, surprised by his boldness and deadly behavior in the direction of his grandsire, who also gives him a threatening look.

"You had plenty of time to plan my wedding with Lord Borros' daughter. It's not my fault that until now you are acting when your job as the Hand is to act since you knew the threats," he tells her seriously and completely firm with his words, "If you want a wedding, plan Daeron's, not mine. I will not be a part of your incompetence when I have already given you too much."

"You are forgetting your place, Aemond," Otto warns him in a careful tone and one in which he fully tells him that he does not want to contradict him now.

But Aemond has had enough.

"You are forgetting your place," he replies in kind.

"Aemond, that's enough," his mother calls to him instantly, letting out a long breath, "You don't want to get married now, that's fine. But don't forget that eventually you will have to," she reminds him earnestly, "After all, Lady Baratheon is still your betrothed and she along with Lord Borros expect the wedding to take place soon."

Again Aemond feels sick to his stomach as he listens to his mother's words, thinking of his betrothed, Lady Floris Baratheon. The very thought of marrying her makes him feel unhappy.

But it is the truth… she is still his betrothed and whether he wishes it or not, he will eventually have to marry her, because his family swore an oath with hers, not him, but his family.

And he has to live up to the weight of that oath.

"We should continue to discuss the marriage of Princess Y/N to Lord Stark, my Queen," says the Maester.

"There is nothing more to discuss, the chances are slim with Lord Stark and we will have to focus on bringing the marriage of my son and Lady Cerelle to the attention of the great houses."

Queen Alicent begins to lead the entire Council, as Otto Hightower continues to watch Aemond with daggers in his eyes, serious, furious and incredulous at his behavior.

He thought he already had everything under control, but Otto forgot that he is not a dragon and the blood of the dragon in anyone who possesses it, especially in Aemond, is chaotic and reckless.

"Congratulations, brother."

Aegon catches Aemond's eye, watching him over his shoulder as he gives him a friendly clap on the back, almost whispering his words.

"You said you hoped our sweet niece would soon outgrow you? Well, now she's marrying the lord of all Winterfell," he says with a small smile, "She's definitely outgrown you."

And with nothing more to say, Aegon leaves the Council Chamber, not interested in the matters of the realm, much less to plan a fucking wedding and have his grandsire take it upon himself to form alliances for his claim to the Throne, as if he cares about such a thing.

As Aemond stands still for a few seconds, watching him go, his words repeating over and over in his mind, anger again coursing through his body, fire, hatred.

He wishes he could prove his brother right, but the truth is that he is very wrong.

Unable to stand it any longer, he quickly heads out of the room as well, not wanting nor caring at all to discuss these matters, this room really displeasing him by bringing back bad memories.

And as soon as he faces the corridors of the Keep, again Aemond remains static for a few moments and his mind again thinking about things he really doesn't want to think about.

But he can't help it.

Like that time he also rushed out of this room, leaving the woman he loves behind, tearing her apart in the worst possible way and pretending not to care.

Even as one of the fiercest and most brutal knights of his time, Prince Aemond doesn't know where he found the courage and strength to break Y/N's heart… his Y/N.

He has always characterized himself as an honorable and respectful man, especially to Y/N, but what he did to her… was out of his nature and highly unpleasant.

And once he was in the safety of his chamber, the first thing he did was sit in one of his chairs near his fireplace, wanting to feel the fire, with the realization slowly starting to become clearer to him, realizing what he had done.

Aemond remembers the last time he cried, it was when he was a little boy in one of his episodes over his lost eye.

A terrible migraine kept him awake for a whole day, he couldn't even get out of bed and couldn't bear to see the light of day. His mother held him tight and was there for him all the time, not even leaving him alone for a second.

Alicent tried and ordered everything to make him feel better, but the Maesters couldn't do much and all he could do, all he learned to do since he was a little boy, was to have to endure the pain.

And since then, the first tear falls down his right cheek.

Aemond, upset, angry and disgusted with himself, cries. And he actually allows himself to cry as he remembers his Y/N's precious face completely shattered and red from her crying, her whole look confused and in need of explanations.

And he couldn't even give her that, an explanation.

And the worst part was that they already had it all. It was all said and done, they were going to be husband and wife finally, as they had asked for so much.

But he finally snatched away her illusion and simply left her without explanations. And that's what makes him lose control completely.

Furious, feeling like a coward, an idiot and annoyed with himself, he lets out a growl and starts breaking everything in his room, with despair and anger in his body.

He screams and blames himself for that weight on his shoulders, a weight that does not belong to him, a weight that he had nothing to do with from the beginning and a weight that he had to let go of the woman he loves when he almost had her because of his family's ambition.

That night the servants had to silently clean the room of Prince Aemond, who, unable to bear it any longer, went for a ride in Vhagar, wanting to forget everything and everyone.

And now, in the present, him in the middle of the hall with the thought of Y/N marrying Lord Stark soon… it's too much.

And he knows it's the same feeling she must have felt when he broke her heart.

He couldn't agree more that he deserves it, but he didn't want to let her go either. Nothing he did was really his choice, but that was the right decision.

And now…he still has to face the consequences of his own actions: Y/N's marriage to a man who will not be him.

"There you have it, my princess."

"Thank you, Emelly," you smile at one of your maids, who leaves you a tray with your almost every night tea so you can fall asleep, "You can rest now."

" You don't need anything else, princess?"

"No, I'm good, thank you. See you in the morrow."

"Of course, princess. Get some rest."

The maid leaves your room, who looking at you in your mirror you continue brushing your straight, silver hair, preparing for sleep.

You've already gone to your siblings' and Rhaena's rooms, especially the little ones', to wish them good night.

Your mother and father have also already come to speak with you and have your usual conversations of the night, where they talk about your wedding to Lord Cregan more than anything else, Daemon and Rhaenyra making sure nothing else haunts your mind.

They know that a wedding can cause too much stress, especially when you're marrying the one you didn't expect from the start, talking about duty and what's expected next from you and your husband.

Your older brother Jace had told you it's a stressful but very necessary conversation, considering the next wedding in the family will be his and Baela's.

You let out a long breath, leave your brush on your dressing table and head off to drink your tea, needing to sleep.

You take the cup from the tray in your hands when the napkin catches your attention. You frown and notice how there is something sticking out from under that napkin, hidden but wanting to be seen specifically by you.

You set the cup down on the table and pick up the napkin, curious and wary, realizing that it is the small envelope of a letter, definitely catching your attention more than before.

You analyze it and there is no indication of who the message might be from. So you decide to open it, finding a small sentence and an addressee that makes your heart jump in your chest and your lips parted.

Meet me at our place by the Hour of the Wolf. I need to explain everything to you, please. I will be waiting.

A.T.

Your pulse starts to race, your whole body starts to shake and you read the message over and over again, your system making you feel more emotions and feelings as you read who has sent this to you.

You think to yourself that this must be a joke or even perhaps some kind of trap, thinking that this can't be. But you know it's him.

It's his handwriting, you would recognize it on any piece of paper, as well as the signature he always uses in all his messages, short and subtle.

Now you understand why so much mystery. But you honestly don't understand how he could have gotten his message to you. It's practically impossible.

Unless he hired or paid irrelevant people, because Emelly is extremely loyal to you and would not have done this considering your history with your uncle, as well as anyone else knows it.

Your uncle who right now must be waiting for you.

Your mind tells you as you look at his message in front of you, surprised with your parted lips, with a feeling starting to invade your chest that you don't know exactly what it is but… it causes you some emotion.

And you can't. You truly can't do this.

You remember everything that happened, what he did to you, what his grandsire did to you too, and how broken you felt, how he broke your heart and left you without explanation, only to become betrothed to Floris Baratheon.

You swallow hard, walking to your huge windows, looking out at the night outside and barely lit by the fire torches that light a little of the roads around Dragonstone, looking out beyond the sea, in the direction where that island is and where you and Aemond used to meet.

You press your lips together, feeling a sharp pain in your chest, as well as that uncertainty and beginning to take into consideration what he has written to you on that little piece of paper.

But again… you can't.

You are both betrothed. You are betrothed to Lord Cregan Stark, you will marry him soon and then… probably he will marry Lady Floris Baratheon as well.

You know you shouldn't even consider it, you know you shouldn't feel that curiosity and longing, because he doesn't deserve it.

That's why you make your decision just as he made his moons ago.

Even though you admit that it hurts and even costs you, you still think of yourself, because he doesn't deserve you to feel this way about him, not after all the damage caused.

You don't know what Aemond really thinks, but it certainly isn't entirely wise to ask you to meet in the hour of the Wolf as if nothing had happened.

And what a coincidence that he does this just when your wedding is in a few more weeks.

You stare out over the sea for a few more moments, thinking, but having already made up your mind. You let out a long breath and without hesitation, you head to your fireplace and throw his message into the fire.

Then you head back to your table to drink your tea and drink it all down so you can finally sleep and forget this ever happened.

While on the small island in Blackwater Bay, Aemond Targaryen keeps Vhagar close by, watching as he sits on a huge rock on the sand of the beach towards the direction of Dragonstone, waiting for you.

He doesn't really find much to entertain himself with, beginning to feel anxious with each passing minute and still not seeing any dragons approaching in the night sky, getting up and pacing back and forth, letting out long breaths and trying to calm himself.

He would be a fool not to have thought that maybe you would ignore him and not even in your greatest madness, the other side of the Targaryen coin, would you agree to meet him after all that happened.

Of course he had thought about it. But he still decided to risk it.

But the minutes pass and pass, with Aemond waiting for you, disappointment and reality coming at him like a strong wave every moment he is still there alone on the island.

He feels frustration beginning to course through his body, also anger but not for you, but for himself.

He thinks of your soon marriage to him, Lord Stark and feels more despair coursing through him, not even bearing the thought.

He asks the Seven to you please show up, really wanting to explain himself.

But he knows it is too late. He was never going to get this chance, because he really hurt you too much and he knows it, he knows it and he has the memory more vivid than ever.

But even though he knew it, he can't help but be disappointed as he continues to wait for a dragon in the night sky that never came.

—PRESENT

The days go by too fast after the conversation with your mother and after so many preparations and requests for the wedding.

When the wedding day finally arrives.

Your mother overlooks her pregnancy, considering she is barely four moons pregnant, to ride Syrax and take her with her to King's Landing while you ride Silverwing so you both arrive in the capital a day before the wedding, as you wished.

You try to suppress all feelings along with the nerves of returning to the Red Keep, where there are many buried memories and people from the past. However, you are here for your wedding.

You know that this visit is brief just to get the wedding over with and nothing more, then your family will return to Dragonstone or probably your mother will decide to stay again to take care of your grandsire, while you will go to Winterfell.

You really want to know the North. It was one of the few conversations you had with Lord Stark and he agreed, as well as both of you being present at Court after spending married moons.

And you really have no intention of anything else happening and just let it happen as it should. And just before the sun sets, you and your mother arrive at King's Landing.

You meet your father, your brothers, sisters, also your grandmother Rhaenys and your grandsire Corlys, even also Queen Alicent welcomes you both back and also gives you her congratulations for your wedding.

If you didn't know her, you wouldn't know that her smile is fake. Clearly Alicent didn't want you to marry her son but neither did she want you to marry a person as influential as Lord Stark. But honestly you don't care.

She is the one who directs you and your mother to the king's chambers, to whom your mother wishes to speak and also in case she wants to dedicate a few words to you for your wedding.

On your way back to your room you meet your aunt, sweet Helaena, who welcomes your mother with a charming look and smile, also you, congratulating you on your wedding.

Fortunately you don't meet any other relevant people, just as you didn't see him or his betrothed anywhere, which you are thankful for.

Because the sooner this could happen, without distractions and unexpected inconveniences, the better.

The only thing you remember about that night when you arrived at King's Landing is that you had to drink a large and considerable amount of your tea in order to sleep, not being able to fall asleep because you were thinking about tomorrow.

And honestly also for thinking a little about him.

You were afraid that he would suddenly enter your chamber through the secret door, because surely he hasn't forgotten his request to meet you on the island to explain everything and you never showed up, but fortunately that didn't happen.

And when you least expect it, you are already at the celebration feast with all the guests present, you looking like a bride, waiting for your betrothed, everything going according to your mother's plan.

The common thing in a wedding is to get married at the Septon and then move on to the feast, but in this case, your mother chose the other way around, just like her wedding to your father, Sr. Laenor.

You learned that Alicent had questioned this, but your mother didn't care much, just reminded her that this was how her wedding had once been and that this way, you would feel less overwhelmed, knowing you perfectly well.

When it all begins.

They have already announced the king, also all your family, only the Hightower-Targaryen and also your betrothed are missing.

Your grandsire is seated at the large table next to his wife on the right side, while your mother is seated on his left side, followed by your place and then your betrothed's place. Your father takes a seat at the head of the table on the left side along with your brothers and sisters.

All the lord's and lady's present are spread throughout the Throne Room, as the food will soon be served and the musicians are already in position to begin at any moment.

Your mother at your side holds your hand to give you her support and her soft, sweet smiles in your direction to help with your nerves. Although she also makes sure that your entire appearance is intact.

It was always Rhaenyra's wish that her daughter, her first daughter, would have a wedding like hers was.

She would also prefer a Valyrian wedding, in fact that was her illusion when the king gave his blessing for the wedding between Y/N and Aemond.

But now, things are different and considering that Lord Stark is not Targaryen, clearly, a Westerosi wedding was the best option. And you did not complain at all.

In fact, it filled you with excitement and affection that when your father and grandfather saw you entering the Room, with your appearance for the occasion, they instantly told you that you wore them many years ago, when they were also in this same place and your mother married your father, Laenor.

A white dress with shoulder-length sleeves draws attention with golden details and some chains adorn around your waist with dragon figures.

Your hair falls in elegant waves, reaching above your waist, with some very subtle braids adorning the top of your head.

Your mother wanted some golden pins to be placed between your hair, also jewelry such as gold necklaces, rings and bracelets, to look more and properly like a Targaryen princess.

When at that moment, they announce the missing people at the big table. The people or rather the person you most expected and never wanted to arrive at the same time.

"Prince Aegon Targaryen, first born son of King Viserys Targaryen with his lady wife, Princess Helaena Targaryen."

The doors directly in front of you allow you to see the entrance of your uncle and sweet aunt who together make their way over to you to take a seat beside Queen Alicent.

Aegon's appearance is appropriate, however, due to all the rumors that keep spreading to Dragonstone, his condition is far from the best for a prince of the realm. His tired face with large bags under his eyes and his clear boredom and disinterest in being here is clear.

However, after all he seems to be willing to drink wine and enjoy himself.

But your sweet aunt by his side completely overshadows him once the view is on her and her beautiful sky blue dress with light silver tones and all her bright and sweet look that characterizes her so much.

When they announce the next people and you try not to make a big deal of it once Aegon and Helaena take their seats.

"Prince Aemond Targaryen, second son of King Viserys and Prince Daeron Targaryen, the third and final son of the king."

So both of them, he, now enter the Throne Room and you avoid looking too much, as well as feeling too much.

You try to distract yourself with the fact that you hadn't seen Daeron in a very long time, nor had anyone else, not even your mother or father. You thought he would still be in Oldtown because he wasn't even here for Helaena and Aegon's wedding.

Maybe he really wanted to fly here, but he was not allowed to, maybe because of his age, knowing that Queen Alicent does not like dragons and is very overprotective in that aspect.

But now that you are looking at him, he is tall, very tall. Not as tall as he is, but for his age, he's definitely growing into a man. But even though you want to focus on Daeron, you don't as you focus on him, inevitably.

His walk hasn't changed, neither has that determination, that confidence and that kind of power he possesses just by looking at him, also that fear and respect at the same time.

And his appearance… hasn't changed either.

Maybe his continuous training has made him look a bit stockier of his arms and his body in general, but his hair, his face and his eye patch is the same.

But he gives you the impression that he's even more handsome.

You look away from him in an instant, as everything that happened comes back to you in a matter of seconds, which is inappropriate. But all you can think about is him.

His hugs, kisses, caresses… all those words of love, all those wishes and all those promises… all only to end in an unexplained broken heart. You swore that he and you were destined to burn together. You swore that you would marry in the tradition of your house.

You swore it would be him and you.

But he made his decision.

And now here you are. He's betrothed and so are you, where by the end of the day you'll be married.

You completely avoid looking at his face once he starts to walk up the steps to take a seat next to his brothers, just like Daeron. You don't feel his gaze at any moment, just as you don't dare to look at him either.

When you ask yourself; where is his betrothed?

She must be here for such celebrations if they are betrothed. And you are sure that Floris Baratheon would not want to miss such an important celebration at the Red Keep.

However, he is all alone and his betrothed seems to be nowhere to be found. Doubt lingers but the feast gives you something new to think about when they announce your betrothed.

"Cregan Stark, lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, the future lord husband of the bride, Y/N Velaryon."

At that moment, everyone at the table rises to greet your betrothed who walks towards you with a kind and respectful smile, looking very well for all this celebration. Or at least most of the people at the table stand up….

You can notice out of the corner of your eye how on Queen Alicent's side some people are still seated, but you don't dare look at them, though you get an idea of who they might be.

Still you focus on your betrothed who bows to the king once he arrives at the table and then makes his way to you to take a seat next to you.

Not before taking your mother's hand to plant a gentle kiss on the back of it, which she accepts with a kind and sweet smile and then turns to you and does the same with more affection.

You smile in his direction as you return his gesture by placing a soft kiss on his cheek and then both of you take a seat, as well as everyone else. When your grandsire, the king, gives a short speech before the feast begins.

And once everything has been said, the feast begins. The music starts and the food is served.

You feel his gaze for a few seconds, not long enough, but you don't notice him at all and continue to enjoy the feast. You talk to your mother from time to time and also to your betrothed, that is if your father and Jace are not talking to him asking him about Winterfell and the Wall.

Your sisters also ask you from time to time if you are feeling well and you can only nod, telling yourself that this is really happening and you have to completely ignore his presence.

When the time comes for the opening of the dance.

Cregan rises from his seat first and offers you his hand to lead you to the center of the Room, which you gladly accept and together you walk to dance in full view of everyone, a traditional Westerosi dance.

It is a simple dance, nothing difficult and you really enjoy it, while you focus your gaze at all times on him, Lord Cregan, who also smiles softly in your direction and does perfectly the right steps, all under the watchful eye of all the nobles present and also of your family.

Both of you stand back to back, and then both of you slowly raise your arms to shoulder height, while you can't help it and turn your gaze towards him, already feeling since the dance started his burning gaze.

Aemond has a meaningful look on his face when your gaze meets his, acting nonchalant, watching you intently, raising his wine glass to his lips.

You can only smile really ungracefully and turn your gaze to the front, continuing to dance and focusing only on your betrothed.

While Aemond at all times… wants this to be over and done with. Though I'd prefer to think this isn't really happening.

He feels like an alluring force, as he can't take his eye off of you, looking at you so beautiful in that dress, knowing in an instant that this is not the dress you would have worn for their wedding. But you still look really beautiful.

A true Targaryen beauty.

A warm feeling envelops him every second he sees you there, so perfect, dancing, smiling and catching everyone's attention, his especially at your every move, not realizing that his face gets softer every second as he watches you.

However… everything is replaced by hatred and anger when those smiles are directed at Lord Stark. And by the way he looks at you too… he wants to burn everything to the ground, clenching his hands into fists.

"Easy, little brother."

Aegon murmurs behind him, over his shoulder, amused, his breath smelling very strongly of wine.

"Everyone can sense how you're starting to wake up. You don't want to cause a fucking scene at our niece's wedding because of your jealousy, do you? Grandsire won't be too pleased."

Aemond can only feel that rage come over him more, knowing full well that Aegon has no intention of calming him down, but to provoke him further and do exactly as he has told him.

And he is succeeding.

Especially in the moment when he again focuses on you, smiling at Lord Stark, glowing and looking this beautiful but for him, Lord Stark, not for him, the one she was supposed to marry and be completely his.

And he regrets it so much, he regrets it so much that he called off their wedding and also leaving you without explanation, knowing that this is exactly what he deserves, to see you happy without him.

As the dance of just the two of them ends and a new song begins, in which he watches as Y/N, his Y/N, places one of her hands on Lord Stark's shoulder and the other intertwines with his, his other hand on her waist, this only making him angrier.

A more choreographed dance begins and the nobles in pairs also begin to join the center of the Room to dance, beginning the real celebration.

And Aemond sinking in his own misery, thinks that he could have survived watching Y/N dance with Lord Stark at an appropriate distance. But now they are both chest to chest, smiling and talking about something with all the nobles also dancing around them.

He doesn't understand that important thing that the two of them are talking about, but he doesn't like it at all, neither does the closeness. In fact he doesn't like any of it.

All he wants is to get her away from him, away from all of this and make her his, finally, no matter what.

His breathing starts to get heavier by the moment, thinking that by the time this is over, she will already be married to him and they will go away together, where they will have to consummate the marriage.

The very thought makes him only feel more enraged and more courageous to snatch her from his arms, not caring about her family and his, not caring about his grandsire and his words, not caring about his mother's words either about "you have to control yourself and think of us."

Not only does Aegon notice her state, so does his grandsire, who watches him intently and cautiously, noticing the look on Lord Stark's face more than menacing, about to do something foolish even though he was very clear with him before attending this feast.

He also catches the eye of Rhaenyra, who watches her husband and subtly points to her half-brother, instantly Daemon knowing exactly what is going on.

And how could he not know?

It reminds him of him many years ago, also watching the woman he loves, about to marry someone else who is not him.

He places a small half smile, bringing his wine glass to his lips, watching his nephew attentively and amused, almost expectantly, wondering even though Aemond has his full attention on you, if he will finally do something about it or what.

"Aemond," his grandsire mumbles to him.

But Aemond, beginning to go into his madness, doesn't watch or listen to him, watching you intently.

"Aemond, I'm warning you," his grandsire insists.

"Oh come on grandsire," Aegon tells him amused, "You know it will be useless. I can tell you don't know him."

And even though Aemond is immersed in his madness, he still thinks and remembers the words of his grandsire and mother.

"I will overlook that it was you who prevented the raven to Storms Ends from arriving when you knew perfectly well that your betrothed should have been here days ago."

His mother tells him seriously and annoyed.

"Now you will attend this wedding alone and I expect you to behave yourself. Just as I expect you to come to terms with the idea that you will marry Lady Baratheon by the end of next month, without protest."

"And you are not going to commit any of your foolishness at the Y/N wedding, do you understand me?" Otto immediately threatens him, "You're not going to talk to Y/N, you're not going to threaten Lord Stark either, and you're going to let the wedding happen in peace, is that clear? "

Aemond feels a bitter feeling, continuing to watch you attentively and him watching threateningly, with the fire in his body about to explode.

"You know what your problem is, grandsire?" Aegon says to Otto Hightower, who watches him seriously and on the verge of losing his patience, "You question the blood of the dragon too much."

And in that same instant, Aemond rises from his seat in a confident movement, with his gaze firmly fixed on you, who are completely disinterested in what is happening with him, completely focused on Lord Stark.

And Aemond's movement completely catches the attention of his grandsire, his mother, also your mother and father, who in an instant look at each other, definitely remembering the past.

Aemond makes his way towards you, not caring about anything.

He doesn't care about his mother and grandsire, he doesn't care about the war that will probably befall them when his father dies, the only thing he cares about at this moment is you.

taglist:

@iloveallmyboys @libdarkheart @angelianlearp @happinessinthebeing @targaryenmoony @tempt-ress @callsign-blue @twobluejeans @luna-salem @literatureluster @thekinslayersswordhand @queenofshinigamis @bugshideaway @minttea07 @itszzmoon

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x oc #aemond x reader #hotd aemond

[pupcuck]

STAY SOFT, GET EATEN !

ft. leon s. kennedy x gn!reader

tags. p in v, incest, dub-con that is basically non-con idk

note. unedited cuz i got lazy omg. umm ignore typos :3 sorry my writing is so jolty lately im finding it hard to write so it’s all coming off very clunky but :3 rbs n feedback appreciated !! this is like not actually that smutty I’m sorry 💔 if u see me reusing bits from other old fics pretend it’s new

tumblr has started to remove fics that use tw non-con, tw incest and any nsfw tags in general from the tags. for this reason, as i’d like my fic to appear in the tags so i can have the same reach as other authors, please understand that this fic contains dark content under the cut. reading this comes at your own risk.

Your dad is hot, an indisputable fact. He’s a total babe, kinda looks like he should’ve been in Baywatch during his prime, got a rack that rivals C. J. Parker’s. Ever since you hit twelve, and the girls in your class suddenly got all boy crazy, you’ve been hearing nonstop about how cute dad is.

Sleepovers were held at yours so they could get a glimpse of him, and your dad might be friendly, but he’s clumsy with conversation, not much of a talker, so he made himself scarce. Then came the slew of questions, you think it was Ashley Graham, the one that didn’t know how to quit it. Airheaded with eyes like chipped peridot.

Hey, where’s your mom? Is she still around, I’ve never heard about her? What kinda girl does your dad like?

My dad doesn’t like kids, freak.

He might, and I’m not a kid! I mean, I turn thirteen in January. I bought a bra at PINK the other day, I even got measured, the lady said I’m an A cup.

Even my dad's are bigger than that, loser.

I’m, like, so not a loser! My mom said I could get a boob job when I turn sixteen, and by then your dad will be, like, what? Thirty?

He’ll be forty-three, dumbass.

Yeah, forty-three, that’s perfect. We can date then as long as you don’t have a mom. I did see a picture on your desk, but that’s your sister right? ‘Cause if that’s your mom, she never picks you up from school, so she’s either dead or they broke up or she hates you, right? I’m so right, aren’t I?

You’re wrong, stupid. My mom just works a lot.

Boo, I totally thought she was dead, well, whatever, if they break up by the time I hit sixteen, I’ll totally be your new step-mom.

For a lack of better words, you wanted that bitch dead. She meant well, you’ve just never met someone so out of touch, the type of girl that hands out Chanel handbags at the food bank.

A few years later, when you turned eighteen, it was Ada Wong, you had this co-dependent, whirlwind friendship that had you by the throat. She was cool, a few years older, and everyone thought she was hot. You were lame, and wanted everyone to think you were hot. What you don’t understand is how on earth it ended with her hand down the front of your dad’s pants at your graduation party. He was totally out of it too, she took advantage of a poor, drunk old man, and the worst part about it? That wasn’t what made you mad. Not that she touched him when he was slurring, tripping over his own feet, you were mad ‘cause she got to touch him in the first place.

When you tell your counsellor, I have a crush on my dad, she falters. She’s this older lady that reminds you of your Auntie Claire, they have the same button nose, and that makes it harder to talk to her. She presents herself professionally, and takes herself a little too seriously, also in the way Auntie Claire does at times. Bitch thinks she’s a psychologist. She has an office tucked right into the corner of your university’s humanities department.

“Well, is your dad absent?” She starts, chews on the lid of her ballpoint pen, the type you get in a pack of two hundred. See, if she were a real psychologist, she’d have a fancy one, with runny ink, and a metallic barrel.

“No, my dad raised me.” Your lips twitch upwards, wanting to scowl at her. ‘Cause this is your thirteenth session, and she knows how close you are to dad.

“Well, then, has your dad ever hit you?” She blinks real slow like it hurts to blink.

“What? No, never.” You’ve asked me these questions before, you stuck-up cow.

“Well, then,” Her eye twitches, you think she might report you to the authorities for being a freak, “Has he ever behaved inappropriately with you?”

The worst your dad has done is ask if you’re on birth control, only once, and he was rightfully worried. “Never, he would never do that.” I don’t know if you’ve been listening, I’m the one that wants to sit on his dick.

She taps her nail on the oak desk, popping open a button on her blouse. Some counsellor she is, mouth drying up ‘cause you have a crush on your dad. “Listen, if it’s not me overstepping boundaries, or being impolite, I’d like to refer you to a therapist.”

No fucking way. Jackpot. You’ve been waiting three months for this, all it took for her to cut the crap was an incestual confession? Although, you really do need to get that fixed, there’s this part of your brain, the cerebellum you believe, that’s been cut out and replaced by a hunk of meat that resembles your father. Whoever did it made a shoddy malpractical mess that you’re left to clean up with scarce supplies and medical knowledge.

“I'd really appreciate that.” You tell her, mustering your toothiest of grins as you pack up your shit and pass through the doorway, never to turn back to advice that consists solely of ‘talk it out’ and ‘use daily affirmations’ and other baseline shit they cover in Cosmopolitan articles you could read for free.

Therapy turns out to be no help. Not ‘cause of the content of the session, this is your first one actually, more ‘cause your therapist resembles dad. A little more on the polished side than your father, with salt and pepper hair that would look so good on him. Leon refuses though, to grow old, that is, to look anything more than thirty - he’s far past that, you think he’s looked old ever since you were born.

It’s going to be a distraction, you might leap out of your seat and fuck this man half to death if he scoots his chair any closer, if he keeps scratching his chin in the way dad does. There’s a copy of Nineteen-Eighteen-Four on the desk behind him, the one with the fabric cover to be specific, embellished by tiny labouring hands to sit pretty on the best-seller shelf in some overpriced independent bookstore. More importantly, it’s the copy that collects dust on your dad’s bedside, the one he insists to have read, but the pages still have that fresh scent to them, and not a single one is dog-eared.

There’s a ring on his ring finger, just like dad’s, and that might be a stretch, ‘cause every married man has a ring on their ring finger. Still reminds you of dad though. His is gold, and dad’s is silver ‘cause mom likes silver. You like silver ‘cause it looks pretty on dad.

He introduces himself, his way of speech is refined, and you can tell he thinks before he speaks unlike dad. Leon is clunky with words, oftentimes crude without realising. Cancellation and no-show fees, your rights, confidentiality, he runs you through all of it - the whole time you’re focused on his lips, the prominent curve of his Cupid’s bow, the double lip line that makes them appear fuller from afar. Just like dad’s lips.

The receptionist frowns when you request to see another therapist, then she begins to click, click, click away at her keyboard. She stops midway to file her nails, then she pops her gum and gives a very simple shake of the head, ponytail moving with her. You doubt the slow bitch even tried, so you make your way home, a heat in your stomach that refuses to fizzle out, an ache so deep only dad could reach it. With his dick, obviously.

Dad’s keys jingle and you hear wedding bells. You check the time, he’s home early, he toes off his shoes and tucks them into the cubby hole shelf mom placed by the door. She’d be down his throat if he left them scattered for her to trip over again.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Leon smiles kindly, the same smile that’s seen you throughout your life. The one he gave you when he first held you, the one he gave you when you fell off your bike, and he brushed the crumbly gravel off your knees and kissed the tender scrapes on both. When you graduated, and he held back tears but acted all tough about it, he smiled all the same.

“Hi, dad.” The one you give in return is meek, the apples of your cheeks refusing to raise upwards into your eye-line.

“Oh,” Dad is perceptive, he throws his jacket over the bannister, keys tucked into one of it’s unzipped pocket - they dangle haphazardly, and you’re sure he’ll forget about them and toss that jacket in the washing machine, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” You shrug Leon’s hand off of your shoulder when he takes the seat adjacent to you. It’s cruel, the expression on his face sours, your heart lurches. Making him upset is your farthest intention, you just don’t know how much skin to skin contact you can handle with him.

Nonetheless, it was the wrong move, ‘cause he shuffles closer, “Hey now, don’t push me out, what’s wrong?”

“Dad, I promise, nothing's up.” You aim to soothe him with your words, but his agitation grows, your discomfort is palpable - he tastes it on his tongue, it’s the blood in the back of his throat. There’s no getting past him. “Therapy was bad.” No harm in telling a lie or two.

“Therapy,” Leon waves his hand through a nonexistent cloud of smoke, “You don’t need that.”

Here we go. All you need is a hug from dad! A kiss from dad. And you’ll be all better, sweetheart.

“I do, dad.” You glare at him, he smooths his thumb over your wrinkled brow and your heart drops to your ass. Dad needs to stop touching you before you touch him back, that’s a silent threat, your fingers twitch to grab him, mould his soft flesh into the shape of your fingertips.

“I did a good job with you,” Leon states, “My dad—“

My dad hit me, my dad threw me through a glass table once, busted my ass and made me crawl through the shattered glass and then he set wild dogs on me - your grandma just watched - I been through all that and I don’t need to go to therapy. He says something along those lines, albeit less cinematically thrilling.

“You did a very good job with me,” You nod, reassure him in a maternal tone almost ‘cause all dads are children that need to be praised, “It’s not your fault, dad, I love you lots.” Well, it is, for raising you so well, maybe he raised you too well. Or maybe you’re just a bit sick in the head, or maybe it’s his fault for looking how he looks.

“Then you don’t need therapy,” He sinks back into his dent in the leather couch, “You just need a hug, bring it in, kid.”

No, no, no. You do your best to fend him off, all for his own sake, but he draws you close to his chest, smothers you by pushing your face right into the dip. He smells good, cologne gradually having worn off as the day progressed, the slightly tangy undertone of his sweat coming through.

“And a kiss.” He coos at you, pinches your cheek, clicks his tongue in an attempt to coax you.

God, no. Don’t kiss me. Don’t do that— Mwah! Smack bang on your forehead as he tips your chin upwards, blinking down at you with sticky toffee lashes. And you, stupidly, in your lovestruck haze, pull him in to place the most disgusting, sloppy kiss on his lips - one that does little to hide your ardour for dad.

Leon’s neck almost snaps with how fast he pulls back, then he stares at you open-mouthed, and you hate to say it, but you’d kiss his lips swollen again. A man of his age, especially your father, should not be pretty or doll-lipped, but he is and you hate it. He’s your hamartia of sorts.

“Sweetheart…” Dad shambles aimlessly through his words, umming and ahing.

“Oh, god, you totally think I’m a freak, right?” You take your hands off of his chest, where they had been firmly planted, giving him a real good squeeze without even realising. “Dad, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, it just came out, you were just really close to me and I got nervous.” Now you sound like him, a lack of conversational tact is exactly what you got from dad.

“No, it’s alright, it’s okay, sweetheart, just give dad a minute.” He pats your shoulder, then he stands up, about to march on forward to grab his keys and leave. You know your dad, so you take his wrist in your hand, beg him to face you.

“Dad… I’m sorry, can you look at me?” You add a ‘please’ in the most desperate tone you can manage, brows slanting downwards as your bottom lip trembles.

Leon struggles to do so, his arm flexes when he tenses, stiffening in your grip. He sits back down when you begin to sniffle, too lamb-hearted to sit through your fit of tears. “Oh, sweetheart, it’s okay.” Dad rubs your back, but he avoids moving his face close like he usually would, this is his cue to kiss the tears from your cheeks, but he doesn’t.

“It’s not, dad,” You hiccup, choking on an ugly sob that manifests into an even uglier yelp, “I didn’t mean to do that, I’m just really lonely.”

“Baby,” Leon’s voice is sweet like a glacé cherry, “I didn’t know you were feeling like that, I didn’t know you were lonely.”

You are, but that’s not why you kissed dad. You kissed dad out of your own free will, ‘cause you’re in love with him. “I am really lonely, dad, I don’t know what to do.” The snot and tears don’t bother him, he wipes it away with the back of his hand. You’re his baby, you know that. So if he can do that, why can’t he fuck you? It’s ugly in the same way, he’ll wipe his load off your stomach instead, or your ass if he wants to take you from the back.

“Hey, it’s okay, we can— we can fix that, I promise.” The only thing you need him to fix is the leak you’ve sprung, plug it up or whatever. “There’s no use cryin’ about it, alright? Dad doesn’t like seeing you cry.”

His guard drops, and you’re kissing him again, harder, till he’s breathless and confused and yet unable to push you off. ‘Cause dad is so weak-willed when it comes to you. If only you’d had the guts to get to him sooner. “I won’t cry… I won’t cry if you kiss me, dad, I promise.” It’s a shitty tactic, threats, making dad’s heart jump like that - gonna send him into cardiac arrest.

Leon hesitates, softens like butter when your hands come to fist the fabric of his shirt, “Okay, just, just a kiss, alright? And mom can’t find out ‘bout this.” He stammers, cupping your face in his big hands, his fingers trembling. “And… And just one, yeah?” His flimsy assertion of dominance has your lips curving into the slightest of smiles, dad’s cute.

“Just one.” You agree, his spiky lashes cast shadows on his face, he shuts his eyes tight as your lips ghost over his for a moment, then you take his face in your hands and press them together. Lip to lip. Heart to heart. You swing a leg over his, situating yourself in his lap. Leon’s eyes open, no longer bracing as he glances down at your spread thighs, then up at your face.

“What’s up?” Leon tries, it’s hard to miss the apprehensive edge to his tone, how he burrows backwards into the couch pillows, shoulders shrinking to get away from you. His kid.

He’s not moving. Not pushing you off, which he could easily do, not calling mom and telling her you need to be checked into a ward of some kind - with others akin to you. Would be like a slumber party really, getting to indulge in fantasies that haven’t left the confines of your sick little head. Dad is looking on ahead, glassy-eyed and sad. And you kind of get it now, what you’ve heard about dad being easy back when he was younger. Not easy, but soft. Pliant against his own will, even when he has the capacity to say no, you’ve given him plenty of chances to say no.

“Dad, I’m sorry, I’ll be quick.” That’s a promise, you’re worked up from therapy with the cleaner version of dad. “And I’m sorry, we don’t have to do this ever again.” Unless you want too is left unsaid. You hope the implications are clear enough, that he’s picking up what you’re putting down, but dad is slow in that sense. He’s a hands-on type of guy.

You give him a minute, dad blinks, and there’s no explicit refusal, so you lift up to wriggle out of your jeans. Dad’s come undone a little easier, he raises his hips when you ask him to do so, and he flinches when you unzip them - fingers coming into contact with the softness of his cock through the fabric of his boxers. Leon’s not hard. It’s a blow to your already crippled ego, then again you’ve heard mom talk about Viagra to him before - so maybe it’s not a ‘my kid is groping my dick’ issue, but more of an old age issue.

The tip is velvety on your skin when you tuck your fingers beneath the waistband to tug them down, with the way he’s reclined back in his seat, his dick flops onto his stomach. Heavy and stagnant, much like dad himself. Doesn’t spring up and whack you in the face like dicks tend to do in porn, doesn’t have a mind of its own, it just sits there awkwardly.

Leon closes his eyes, you notice how ragged his breathing is and wonder if he’s getting any enjoyment out of this, or if he’s two minutes away from flatlining. To comfort him, you stroke a hand over his cheek, fingers curling beneath his square jaw as your other hand curls around his flaccid cock. He flinches, and for the first time in your life, you see dad cry. And it turns you on. The last time was when you were born, you don’t remember it, for obvious reasons, but he reiterates it every birthday.

“Oh, dad,” Your brows knit together, “I didn’t… Please don’t cry, I really didn’t mean to upset you, dad. Gosh, I’m just, I just needed to do this dad— Can you speak to me, please? I don’t know what to do.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” Leon’s voice wavers, his body is wracked with shivers, chills prickling his spine, “I want to make you happy.” You’re all he's got, you and mom are the only speck of normalcy in dad’s life and you’ve gone and ruined it. For reasons even your counsellor couldn’t process, reasons that are unfathomable to you. A prion disease so severe that even your therapist likely fears there’s no chance. “I’m sorry.” He says finally, and your stomach hurts.

“Dad, don’t say sorry, that’s stupid.” You lift your hips once more, spitting on your palm and smearing it over his dick has done little for lube, but he’s not all that big - and you’re dripping down your thighs, it’ll be an easy fit, ‘cause dad made you. Half of you is him, and that means he’ll be just right. “It’s not your fault.” You tell him, but you doubt it lifts the guilt from his shoulders, it weighs down his tender heart instead.

Dad doesn’t think that way. He blames everything on himself. Leon’s the one that raised you, he's the one that went wrong. You don’t know how else to tell him there’s something sick inside your head, and it’s infected every single part of you.

It’s hard to guide him into your hole, the tip bumps over your twitching clit a couple of times, up and down your slippery folds as you try to line him up. Leon’s face twists when you take him in, walls breached by the tip alone, you wonder if he’s relieved to find out you’re a virgin. You’ve been saving it for dad, didn’t know the opportunity would come so soon. Your cunt squelches when you take him to the hilt, squeezing around his shaft till he hardens inside of you. There we go, so dad does like you after all? Or is this a natural response? Or is he thinking of someone else, his eyes have been closed for an awfully long time.

“Dad, will you look at me, please?” That’s the second time you’ve asked so nicely and he obeys all the same, cracking open his eyes, foggy like stained glass, just as bright too.

Two hands come to rest on your torso, Leon’s keeping you at arms length. You want dad to let you in. The rocking off your hips elicits the slightest groan from his parted lips, you grind yourself into his lap, fat head leaking and jabbing at that spongy spot deep inside. See? Dad’s made for you. Dad knows you.

“Dad,” You whimper, clammy forehead sticking to his, the tip of your nose bumping his broad one, it’s romantic you think. In the same way A View from the Bridge is romantic - to you and you only. “I love you… I love you so much.” His hips jolt upwards, dad’s sensitive you suppose, he didn’t mean to do it ‘cause his face contorts with pure, unadulterated disgust.

Shakily, you take his bigger hand in yours, he’s limp in your grip. You jam his hand between your sweaty bodies, force him to rub them against your thrumming clit. Dad does it. ‘Cause he loves you, if you didn’t get that by now. His thumb rubs figure eights into your bud, the nimble touch, along with dad’s dick right where you want it, lodged deep inside your pussy - it tips you right over the edge.

Your thighs tremble, snapping shut around his hand, and his cock slips out. He’s only got a semi, or maybe he came earlier, but you don’t know much about dick specifics so you curl into his chest, and dad holds you tight even after you totally violated the poor guy.

“Should clean up ‘fore mom gets home.” Leon’s voice is unsteady, lilting up and down, all over the place. God, did you make dad cry again, you stupid bitch?

“Yeah,” You agree, scratching the back of your head ‘cause what do you even say after fucking your dad? Couldn’t even ask google that. “Dad, do you still like me?”

“I love you,” He answers instinctively, “I’ll love you no matter what you do to me, kid.”

#leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut

[bluetooththereptile]

Father in law (part one)

(Potential yandere Bruce Wayne x reader)

( English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes in the following text.)

Note: I use a gender neutral name, Angel, for Bruce's child.

Summary: Your life with your partner isn't going well, you have to do something about it.

Tw: mentions of abuse, harm and unaliving.

The sound of the TV echoed in the living room of the Manor, the atmosphere of the room tense, it had been like that since whenever you visited your partner. You rolled your eyes as you heard the chuckles of the presenters on the screen, a picture of you taken by paparazzi when you were in a hurry plastered on the corner of the screen. Angel tried to distract you by offering you a cup of tea but you declined, making them worry even more for you, but you were too lost in your misery to care.

Since your relationship became serious with Angel your life had become a literal hell, every date had ended up in some form of misery for you, Angel didn't get any of the side effects of your situation though and you didn't know how it had happened. How you had ended up on the paparazzi news, your life displayed as the worst version of what it could be, belittled and bullied, you had lost your job because of your tarnished image and you had lived in your car since your landlady had thrown you out because you were a "sexually deviant, arrogant and abuser" person and she didn't want you close to her own home. Speaking of the car, you had to refill its tank, but you didn't have the money for it. Damn it!

You groaned under your breath as you looked At angel who had tilted their head to the side, calling your name to catch your attention. God, how much you both hated and loved them at the same time. It was easy to love them, they were kind and caring, beautiful in every sense, perfect in every way, no wonder they were so popular, but, that also was the reason that you hated them as well, they had everything you did not, and since the time you had started dating, your life had become a literal hell.

"Angel..." you spoke, a little surprised by your tone, it sounded...weak "I wanted to talk about something..." Their body turned towards you so they could give you their whole attention, you wanted to wince at the gleam in their eyes, they looked at you as if you were the most precious thing in the world, at first it was pleasant to have someone like that but now it was sort of like a hex, giving you the chills. Shivering slightly you cleared your throat and shifted on your seat "I've been thinking about breaking up..."

"What?! Why?!" Angel's hurt voice made you recoil in your seat, you wanted to tell them everything, to tell them all that happened to you had made you miserable, but you only sighed in their response "Something has been bothering you?" Angel's question made you wince, Angel was perfect but had a mortal flaw, they were delusional, you didn't know but it ran in their family. In their eyes you weren't dirty or miserable, you were simply tired, bored, or perhaps a little sick. What was on TV was just a joke, and perhaps you didn't have the humor to laugh at it, you were just a little rusty, that's all, right? Then why you wanted to break up? Was the date you had not good enough? Your dates were so much fun, they always ended up with a funny scene, you had so much fun together, and you were perfect together, why now you were talking about breaking up?

You palmed your face, sighing, looking away from Angel, only to see their father standing in the corner with an interested look on his face, Bruce Wayne, oh God you hated that man to your core, whenever you met him he'd roast you so hard that you'd end up like a lump of burnt coal, the look in his eyes showed that he looked down on you, not to mention his fucking family, ugh, you just wanted to get away from all of this, after all, you got into that mess just for the sake of dating Angel Wayne.

You turned to your partner "Look, I just want to break up okay?" Angel paused, the look on their face darkening, oh dear God here we go. "Am I not enough? Y/N, I have done everything I could to make you happy! What is wrong? Don't you love me anymore?" "No! I don't love you anymore!" You said harshly, wanting to push them away, even if it meant they'd be hurt emotionally, but to your frustration, Angel took in a deep breath before speaking "I know I have been busy with my work and you've been under so much pressure lately, I understand that you feel burnt out and want to take some time apart but breaking up is just overreacting to our situation!"

You felt like you'd want to roll your eyes so hard that they'd come out of the other side of your head, they didn't want to understand, they didn't take no by its literal meaning. You sighed, rubbing your eyes, if it was with someone else you'd feel thrilled that someone was so understanding and considerate, so hell-bent on keeping you by their side but this wasn't that, you felt like you were suffocating under the pressure. Your phone rang, making you flinch, as you looked down at its screen you let out a scoff, it was another call from another unknown number, how your phone number had ended up on the internet for people to bully, you didn't know. You were sick of this, sick of life itself!

No job, no house, your own family hated you for just existing after fabricated evidence of your various offenses had been published, you couldn't hurt a fly, and yet you have assaulted an old lady...sexually?!?! Angel touched your arm to pull you out of your thoughts but then you slapped their hand away. standing up, you didn't even turn to look back at them for the last time, ignoring their pleas "Y/N, you're being ridiculous please stay-" Angel paused as Bruce talked "Let them leave darling..." you rolled your eyes once more before walking away, not looking back to see the smirk on Bruce's face as he held his child

down by their shoulders on their seat; stopping them from following you.

You didn't know why all of this had happened, you didn't know that it was all because of Bruce Wayne, the bastard himself. He had paid people to tarnish your image, ruin your livelihood, and push you into depression so you'd let go of his child, you were never perfect for his Angel, his Angel deserved someone so much better than you. Barging out of the Manor you walked your way outside the yard and the gates, of course, you didn't have the money to pay for a taxi, so you started a walk into the night, too frustrated and angry to think of your safety.

Before you could figure out where you were heading you found yourself in front of the drugstore your mother used to take you to, the cashier was still the same old lady with those large eyeglasses. Without thinking you headed into the store, perhaps some nostalgia would help? The smell of lavender filled your nostrils, you walked to the second isle to avoid eye contact with the cashier, sighing as you looked at the different things for sale, until your eyes landed on the familiar brown bottle, something that your mother used to call her little helpers...Xanax.

You reached out for the bottle and looked at it, whenever your mother took one of these everything seemed better since she'd end up more relaxed, perhaps if you were to take some you'd feel better too? But you didn't have the money to buy it, and clearly, you didn't want to embarrass yourself by asking to borrow it, so you looked around, and since the only camera in the old store was way away from you, you quickly put the bottle in your pocket, walking out of the store as if nothing had happened, you'd finally have some resemblance of relaxation soon.

....

Angel's cries echoed in the Manor as they banged their fists on the door, pleading for their father to be let out, they had to see you, they had to touch your body, even if it meant it was cold already. Bruce closed his eyes, leaning to the door of their room as he tried to think of something else, something other the fact that your suicide had ended up messing his child so much that they had gotten into a maniac episode. Dick had found your body in the car, motionless with the empty bottle of pills, you had given up on everything.

But what bothered Bruce was not your death or Angel's distress, it was the fact that he felt...pain. surely it wasn't because he deep down had softened up a little for you, right? He had told himself those lies for about a week, and it was driving him mad, he had to do something about it to save both his sanity and Angel's, and he'd do anything in his power to make things right.

#yandere #yandere batman #yandere dc #yandere x reader #yandere jason todd #yandere batfamily #yandere dick grayson #yandere tim drake #yandere bruce wayne #yandere bat family #yandere red robin #yandere red hood #yandere robin #yandere damian wayne

[ssentimentals]

make a move {choi seungcheol}

pairing: seungcheol x fem!reader

prompt: 'i've never done this before' + 'i just want to please you' ((this work is part of my 1k event, go check out other works of mine here)

warnings: nsfw (minors, i'm looking at all of you, skip this work!), cheollie is whipped (duh, when have i ever written anything different), i'm striking again with a confident and forthcoming reader in here, fingering, handjob

seungcheol takes it slow. it's a miracle that you even agreed to be his girlfriend in the first place and he is not about to fuck it all up by rushing and making mistakes. he's a perfect gentleman, he prides himself in having a great selfcontrol and he's also absolutely terrified of messing up this chance of being with you, so. he takes it slow. his kisses never stray away from your lips and his hands are yet to map out every curve of your body cause he keeps them positioned strategically at your waist at all times. in those two months of dating he never stayed over at your place and never indicated that he wants to move things further, never pushed. all in all seungcheol is a perfect picture of someone who takes. it. slow. he's also a perfect picture of someone who's on the brink of losing his goddamn mind.

cause you don't exactly make it easy for him. part of seungcheol thinks that you're doing this on purpose, but another part doesn't want to believe in it. you can't be testing him on purpose, right? all those breathy sighs into the kiss, your fingers that caress his torso and then drop too low right next to his belt, you sitting on his lap and wiggling to get comfortable - you can't be that cruel, right? on any day he'd never think of you as anything less of an angel, but right now he is not sure. your simple 'help me pick an outfit for tonight's party' request sounded very innocent, but you closing the door and starting to undress right in front of him? sinful. devilish. seungcheol is losing his mind.

'i just need to freshen up,' you gesture towards the bathroom, taking off your hoodie. 'you can sit wherever, i'll take a quick shower and then we can choose, yeah? i want us to match!'

soft smile graces his features as he stares at your excited face. your desire to wear matching clothes is too cute and he is always ready to indulge you. 'sure babe, whatever you want.'

you smile, sending him a kiss before disappearing into the bathroom. seungcheol decidedly doesn't think of your state of nakedness right behind that door and turns around, getting himself comfortable on your bed. in truth, he doesn't really know how to...move forward. and the worst part is not like you asked him to take it slow. no, he decided so himself but lately seungcheol had a hard time remembering the reasons behind this decision. he'd wait for you as long as needed if you asked so, but when you didn't he is a bit at loss. his hands itch to explore your body, his lips long to kiss you all over and he doesn't know how to breach this subject. the last thing he wants to do is make you uncomfortable but the more he thinks about it, the more thought of talking it out with you seems to be logical.

'babe, where's my phone?'

'right over he- oh!' seungcheol turns his head so quickly, he hears a loud crack of his neck. image of you wrapped only in a towel will not leave his mind anytime soon. 'sorry! sorry. um, i didn't mean to look, honestly. your phone is-' he reaches out and hands it to you, still turned around, '-here, yeah it's here.'

there's a silence and then he hears soft chuckle. 'cheollie, if i didn't want you to look, i would have wore clothes before going out.'

'right-right,' seungcheol lets out automatically before meaning behind your words fully sinks in. when it does, he whips his head back, staring at you dumbfounded. 'what?'

you smile at his confused face, stepping closer. 'you heard me, seungcheol. or i can repeat the whole walking out thing again if you want.'

silence. seungcheol is not sure how he is supposed to react. his brain shuts down for few seconds, taking few more seconds to restart but this time when he's silent is enough to make you feel insecure. he sees how smile slips up from your face, getting replaced with downward quirk of your lips and frown. he hates that but before his tongue can remember how words work, you mutter: 'hey, i didn't want to pressure, i was just kidding, sorry-'

'no-no!' seungcheol rushes out to say, fumbling with his words as he shots up from the bed to stand close to you. you look so fragile with your shoulders hunched and looking like he might reject you, which honestly is never an option and he needs to make it clear as a day to you. 'please don't apologise, i just blanked out on you in a moment.'

you look up to check whether thats true or not and then smile, raising your eyebrow in a flirtatious way. 'should i take it for a compliment that you blanked out seeing me half naked?'

seungcheol huffs, stepping a bit closer. his hands fall automatically on your hips and he smiles as you instantly sway closer. 'i didn't want to impose,' he explains, carefully choosing his words. 'you and i, we...we are taking it slow, so. i'm kind of-' seungcheol shakes his head, tightening his grip on your hips. it's hard to find words when you're smelling so good and your skin is still moist and- 'at loss, i guess.'

you chew on your bottom lip, thinking. 'why exactly are we taking it slow, cheollie? is this what you want? if that's what you want then of course i will respect. but if it's for my sake then i don't really care, to be honest. but if you don't want me-'

seungcheol roughly pulls you close, inhales floral scent of your shampoo and breathes out, trying to put words into sentences. he doesn't want to hear the end of your sentence, can't bear the thought of you feeling like this; he wants to be romantic, wants to sweep you off your feet, but only raw honesty is on his tongue when he whispers: 'i want you. so much. always, all the time.' when he opens his eyes, he makes eye contact with you, wanting you to know that he is not joking around. 'never doubt that, never.'

your eyes glaze over and you lick your lips nervously; this little action makes him swallow loudly. 'then...' you place your hands on his belt, looking up. 'make a move, cheol.'

a permission. a verbal one, when you're fully in your right mind - once seungcheol registers that, he has to take a deep breath. in a second he's overwhelmed with all of the options: where he can touch, kiss, seeing you naked, the positions - his fingers start to shake a little from realization that he is free to do it all. he doesn't know what to choose first simply because he wants to everything at once, immediately, god he waited so patiently-

'i've never done this before,' he hears you whisper. 'i mean-never been this forward.'

he hums, drawing soothing circles on your hips. your towel is really getting in the way and he gets bold enough to tug on it, letting the fabric fall down. it gets a hitch in breath from you and growing smirk from him in return. 'you being this forward,' he whispers, closing in so he's practically whispering in your mouth, 'is very, very sexy.'

in truth it does thing to him that are hard to explain, because whole blood rushes away from his brain and moves lower, making it hard to keep his composure. you're finally in his arms in the way that he wanted and to have you fully naked and him fully clothes is really too much for him to handle. you glance at him with a small smirk of your own, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. your chest presses to his and seungcheol locks his arms around you, fighting off his growing desire to throw you on the bed and have his way with you.

'you find me sexy?' you ask and he is so far gone, you really don't even have to try and be seductive, every move of yours captures his heart in a deadlock. 'what else?'

oh, this is a fantastic question, one that seungcheol is ready to answer even if you wake him up in the middle of the night. he leans in, starting to press kisses at each part of your face as he speaks: 'i find you sexy, yes. and absolutely irressistible, and stunning. so, so stunning. you're unreal.'

your giggle when he kisses up your neck makes him smile and he lets you go just to shrug off his jacket. 'i am real,' you assure him, not so subtly tugging at the hem of his t-shirt. then you suddenly look up, serious. 'what do you want to do?'

another brilliant question. seungcheol gathers you back in his arms once he took off his t-shirt. 'i just want to please you.'

and that's really it. in the bottom of it all is just his immense desire to please you, make you feel good. seungcheol is ready to make this his lifelong purpose, he hopes you are ready for it. at his reply your eyes twinkle and you lean in, brushing your lips over his ear: 'green light on everything, cheol.'

it's a mess from then on. one minute you two are standing in a hug and then he's between your legs, leaving kisses all over inside of your thighs while his fingers gently pry you open. if seungcheol could choose, he'd gladly die right here and now. in between your legs, getting to touch your body, hearing those sinful sounds leave your mouth - that's a good way to go. his own arousal pushes at his jeans in an uncomfortable manner, but it doesn't matter for him now. he is completely lost in your world, can spend hours right in this position, massaging supple and soft flesh of your thighs, pushing his fingers again and again in your velvety heat, leaving his little marks all over you. everything about you is addictive: your body, your taste, your sounds. he wants to memorize everything now, but realization that this is not his last time has him reeling this desire back; god, just the knowledge of him having so much time with you in the future has his knees buckling.

'seungcheol,' you keen at the of the third finger and he smiles, when you try to close your legs together.

he wants to see your face and he moves higher, trailing kisses wherever he can reach, stopping at your collarbones. you're breathing heavily and he slips down to give all of his attention to your chest, smirking at you groaning. he speeds up his fingers and his jaw slackens in awe when you start moving along, chasing your high with a loud whine, grabbing his bicep for support. 'fuck- yes, c'mon, use me, use my fingers, take what you want, love,' he lets out, eyes fixed on the way your hips move.

'oh my god,' your nails dig painfully into his skin. 'i'm- seungcheol, i need-'

seungcheol moves down swiftly, knowing exactly what you need. his lips close around the nub and he sucks in time with his fingers, making you cry out. your legs shake when you climax and whole body grows taut for few seconds before relaxing, sagging back into the bed. cheol works you through it, his lips and fingers serve a constant pressure in the right places, stopping only when you tug weakly at his hair. he grins, leaning down to lap up at your juices. your skin is glowing with light sheen of sweat and he wonders will you be disgusted or not if he licks it off.

'feeling okay?' he asks quietly, moving up until he's facing you.

your eyes focus on him after few moments and you smile, nodding. your hand reaches out to his belt and he catches it, bringing it to his lips for a kiss. 'what about you?' you ask, frowning.

'i'll take care of it,' he says. 'you are tired and don't even argue about it.'

you pout but don't argue - you are tired. this day has been dreadful and after an orgasm all you wanna do is just roll over and fall asleep. however, leaving him high and dry is not what you want, so you stubbornly reach out for his jeans, ignoring his groan of protest. 'handjob?' you ask, looking up at your boyfriend. 'blowjob?'

seungcheol curses under his breath; how can someone look so cute when these kind of words leave their mouth? he sighs, pulling you in and whispering into your hair: 'handjob.'

honestly, he's so pent up that even few strokes from you will do it but he tries to hold on, not wanting to leave a bad impression. so he grits his teeth and tries to think unsexy thoughts when you caress his shaft slowly before picking up your speed. he's trying to be quiet but you lean on and start kissing him and oh, he is a weak, weak man. seungcheol moans loudly into your mouth when you apply more pressure and pants openly as his stomach tightens from all the feelings. 'let go,' you whisper - command? - into his ear and he follows your order easily like it's the most natural thing in the world. you swallow up all his sounds with a kiss and his midn blissfully drifts in and out until he comes back to reality, when you reach out behind him for a tissue.

'shower?' you ask, looking at him with a warm smile.

'and a nap,' seungcheol nods. 'want me to go first and fix the temperature?'

seungcheol wants nothing more than to lay here and fall asleep with you, but he knows how you hate sweat and how you hate cold water and having to wait for it to warm up, so his want will hav to wait. you nod gratefully, smiling at how well he knows you. 'yes please.'

'how polite,' cheol snickers but stands up, tucking his jeans away and rushing to the bathroom. he stands there for a while, waiting for water to warm up and then grabs two new towels before calling you in. 'all is ready, your highness, please do come in.'

your laugh makes his heart beat louder in his chest and he sighs in satisfaction when you drop a kiss at his forehead before going in. this evening turned out to be something else and he's never been more glad of it.

a/n: so.many.feelings in this smut, this got out of control when i started writing it. let me know what you think - nini

tagging @prpldahy

#seventeen smut #svt smut #seventeen imagine #seventeen fic #seungcheol smut #choi seungcheol #seventeen seungcheol #svt seungcheol #scoups scenarios #seventeen scoups #seventeen scenario #scoups #svt scoups #seventeen x reader #seungcheol imagine #seventeen reaction #seungcheol x reader #scoups x reader #GOD IT IS FINALLY FINISHED WHOA #i havent written smut in such a long time i feel like i am incapable of writing a good one #sorry if this too..idk mushy and not much action #but also...have you read my other works i think you knew not to expect soemthign hardcore

[ladystoneboobs]

ya ever think about how the lannister sibs all have big secrets kept from each other, like huge life-altering experiences? jaime's is the most obvious, the most talked-about, with the full story of his kingslaying and everything he endured from aerys leading up to it. it's clear enough to me that brienne was the first he opened up to about that, including either sibling. they never asked, but unlike ned stark and the rest deriding him as kingslayer, their lack of curiosity is no offense in itself bc as tywin's other children they would never judge him for turning his cloak purely out of family loyalty. ned's assumption of jaime's motives is directly tied to his judgment of jaime, but it's the judgment that rankles jaime so. choosing your father's life over a king's is hardly the worst crime in itself. how can he explain all the other reasons without prompting when its not just about his crime but all his trauma too? is there any basis for that in his relationship with cersei, who always relied on him for comfort and consolation but seems less adept at providing the same to him? or even with tyrion, his only real male friend for years, but also his baby brother, the one he was meant to protect and take care of, who was only 10 at the time of the kingslaying? even to fully share all with tyrion years later, both adults, could be something of a role reversal, forever shattering tyrion's image of him as the strong invulnerable golden big brother by revealing his own broken inner child. jaime can't break out from those sibling roles and patterns, so neither can ever understand that part of him, never knowing the early life he had at court without either of them with him.

and tyrion, who trusted jaime more than anyone in the world before learning the truth about tysha, still could not confide in him freely even when all that trust was still intact. jaime must have heard some story of what tywin did to tysha to feel the need to confess his lie, but he def didn't hear it straight from tyrion bc imo there's no way he could still think confessing would help anything if he understood how scarred tyrion was by what he witnessed and esp not knowing that tywin ordered him to participate at the end. tyrion could reveal all that to bronn when they barely knew each other but not to his beloved brother, his first and best friend. how can the most abused child explain all his unknown abuse to the golden child, the big brother meant to protect him who couldn't always do so? how does he even begin to reveal the deepest trauma that happened to him when jaime wasn't in the room, esp when the story does start with jaime apparently trying to help him by fixing him up with tysha?

and then there's cersei and all her secrets. she always turned to jaime for consolation, or at least when he knew she needed it, but how many times did he not know? how personally could she confide in him as they grew older and their paths diverged? we know the first big secret was maggy the frog's prophecy, her first big scare, which came on the cusp of puberty, an experience she couldn't share with her twin bc he would prob just laugh and make a joke of it. in their first real scene together, in bran's pov, he mocks lysa's motherly fears and likens her to cersei. ("I think birthing does something to your minds. You are all mad." He laughed.) then he makes light of her marital discord, ("And whose fault is that, sweet sister?"), having no idea of the depth of pain she'd suffered from robert, beyond his infidelities. he later blames her for being robert's queen, not his, only thinking of how she managed to arrange his kg post, that power to forever tie him to her in secret, never grasping her lack of control in marriage, that "a queen is only a woman after all". in her pride it was hard to reveal all she'd suffered as a woman, but she also couldn't rely on jaime's response if he knew of her abuse, knowing he would kill robert and get himself killed too, only making her and their children's lives more precarious. she couldn't trust him to listen about securing the throne before dealing with robert or that as robert's victim it was her right to decide such matters, to choose his fate, not jaime's place to avenge her without her say-so first. all bc they were both too stuck in their idea of jaime as her sword, nothing more, with jaime determined to protect her and tyrion, always a bodyguard before he ever donned a white cloak.

something something tywin did his best to play his children off each other and the most effective thing he did to divide them was by setting jaime up as the golden child and family protector. the designated lannister sword only pointing at threats outside their house. a knight serving his family whose protection was always limited, who could never protect them from the person who first hurt cersei and tyrion and made them who they were at a distance from him, bc ofc he couldn't fight his own father, much less slay him with a sword.

something something maybe the reason that joff+marg+loras was a surer recipe for kingslayer stew than robert+cersei+jaime is all down to that tyrell lack of abusive structure. not that loras cared more about marg, was more willing to kill for her than jaime was to kill robert, but that there wasn't a chance of marg hiding her misery from him if/when her husband abused her in their shared household. it's not like he understood her to the point of mind-reading but when their previous royal marital household involved her bearding for his boyfriend then they prob had a pretty good basis of open communication. in that sense, the lannicest twins with all their sexual and physical intimacy still had less emotional intimacy than the tyrell queen and her kg brother.

#valyrianscrolls #asoiaf meta #jaime lannister #tyrion lannister #cersei lannister #tywin lannister #asoiaf #pride of lions #happy murderous meowmeow monday #who else would save him if not his brother? #golden days and silver nights #margaery tyrell #loras tyrell #some roses have steel thorns #(c)lsb #like i have seen someone wonder if jaime held it against his sibs for not asking more about the kingslaying #when tyrion was literally 10yso may as well ask why the starklings didnt ask ned abt the rebellion and lyanna's death #when your older war vet relative doesnt volunteer info you try not to pry #and we need to talk more abt all jam didnt know abt cers besides her post-robert affairs

[mandos-mind-trick]

Blessed Silence

Summary: You haven't known silence for eight years after your soulmate link manifests as a telepathic connection.

Pairing: Tech x reader, soulmate AU

Warnings: NSFW, unprotected sex, unrealistic first time sex, Soulmate AU so feelings just kinda happen, reader does have a sort of backstory but everything else is ambiguous, reader also is written as female bodied

A/N: I had most of this written, but I just needed some motivation to finish. Turns out avoiding feelings is a good motivator for writing smut. I kinda like this one. It was supposed to be a short fic, but it wound up sorta long. (This is the cut down version too, it was longer.)

MASTERLIST

Your brain hasn’t been quiet for almost eight years. 

It was near non-stop, constant chatter about anything and everything. Things from battle strategy to medical knowledge to ship specs, planets, species and languages you’d never even heard of. Your brain was full of it all the time. 

The worst part? It wasn’t even your doing. 

You had questioned for a long time what your soulmate link might be. Most species have them, and they vary depending on each unique link. From marks to timers to telepathy the list goes on and on. You’d know, you frequented that list often. 

Many, many times you had gone through every option on that list, waiting for something to seem right. You had no marks, no timer, no strange dreams, no color blindness. For years you had nothing. You had wondered perhaps if there was something that had been missed, another way soulmates might present themselves that was unknown. 

Or maybe, you didn’t have one at all. 

Until about eight years ago when the thoughts had started. They’re not your own. The voice isn’t yours whispering them. At first you had thought you were going crazy, hearing some voice going at rapid speed in your head. 

Reading back through the list had made you realize what it was. 

You had a telepathic connection with your soulmate, and the nonstop chatter was your soulmate’s mind. 

It really is nonstop. 

The only time it quiets is when he sleeps, and that is sporadic and only in short bursts. 

At first it had been enchanting. You had laid in your bed for hours, listening to his voice think about anything and everything. Quickly, though, it had grown to be almost annoying because he never stopped thinking. Always his brain is going, thinking of things that don’t even make sense to you sometimes. 

That being said, he has been helpful to you a few times. You forget he can also hear your thoughts, since he was almost always drowning you out. A few, sparing times, he had helped you, like when your speeder broke down and you were determined to fix it yourself to avoid overpaying for a mechanic. It wasn’t that hard to figure out, but upon looking at various parts in the shop, you had drawn a blank on what you needed. 

Then, whispering quietly in your mind, your soulmate had told you which parts to get, and had walked you through repairing it. You had thanked him, and then got a barrage of mechanical knowledge and more facts about speeder designs than you had ever wished to know. 

As much as it annoyed you, hearing his voice constantly was reassuring. Your home planet had been entirely untouched by the war, but you had seen news about horrible battles leaving planets permanently scarred and millions homeless. You know he’s involved somehow, given the thousands of battle plans and strategies that flooded your mind constantly. 

It makes you feel a bit better that he has a good reason for not actively looking for you. 

It’s not like you were actively making an effort, but after you had realized he was probably involved in the army, you had squashed that thought quickly. You did want to meet him, if only to slap him for keeping you awake with his constant thoughts, but you weren’t searching him out. 

Fate would allow your paths to cross eventually. Right now was not the time. 

Then the war ended. It’s rather abrupt, with hardly more than a holocast from the Galactic Senate announcing the end of the war and the formation of the new Galactic Empire. You had never cared much about politics, or the war, because your planet wasn’t likely to ever feel the effects of any of it. Largely ignored due to its rather inconvenient placement away from hyperspace lanes and tucked into a far edge of the outer rim, your home was frequented only by those looking to hide. It’s a good spot to do it. 

Despite this, nothing about the end of the war or the new Empire felt right to you, mostly because your soulmate feels that way. There's little you can do about it, and it seems he also agrees. 

The battle strategies begin to shift. Deserter is a constant thought in your soulmate's head. Had they left the army after the war ended? You can't blame them, especially as news begins to reach your planet about the Empire. 

You wonder about your soulmate sometimes, if he's okay. You know he's not exactly safe, given the thoughts you hear. 

Not once has he worried about you. Not once has he even asked. Not once has he tried to communicate. You blame it on his situation. You blame it on his stress levels which have been through the roof. 

You try not to let it hurt. 

So you go on with your life as you had before, desperately trying to keep your farm going. It’s getting harder as time and the planet’s unpredictable weather wears on your tools and your home. You fix what you can, and hope the rest of it makes it to the next harvest. 

You’re in town looking for parts when it finally happens. 

It’s been nearly six standard since the war ended and the Empire took over the galaxy. Your planet still remains untouched and unbothered, hidden away safely in its corner of the galaxy. Visitors are still rare, and usually draw attention when they come. 

You’re haggling for a part when you notice a group of newcomers. Five of them, looking out of place as they talk amongst each other. 

You can't help but overhear the conversation, given your proximity. Your body stiffens as you pick up one of their voices, many thoughts running through your head. You know that voice. You've never heard it in person. Only ever in your mind. 

The emotions leave you like an explosion, your body turning before you can stop it. "You!" You point at the group, cutting him off before he can continue. 

They all turn to look at you, but you're too focused on him. You walk up to him, grabbing him by the chest plate and shaking him.

"Do you ever stop thinking? I haven't known silence in eight years!" You jab a finger into his chest, ignoring the way your finger bends uncomfortably against the unrelenting plastoid. "It never stops. Always something going and going and going. Do you even sleep anymore? And, and you can’t even bother to let me know you’re okay? You...you can’t even ask about me either? I’ve been waiting a long time to even hear from you and all I get is useless facts?” 

He blinks down at you from behind his goggles, mouth parted in shocked silence. 

“Tech,” One of the others says, drawing you back to reality. You’re in a very public place, telling off your soulmate. “You know her?” 

Tech. That’s his name? Or perhaps a nickname. He lifts a hand, adjusting his goggles as he stares down at you. He’s tall, having to tilt his head to look down at you, just as you have to tilt your head to look up at him. 

“Yes, I believe I’ve just met my soulmate.” He says slowly. They all turn to look at you, making you feel a bit self conscious. “We share a telepathic connection. It’s one of the rarer forms of soulmate links, though not the rarest. It’s affected by distance, the further you are, the stronger the connection is.” 

“Maker, he talks as much as he thinks, doesn’t he?” You say, taking a step back. 

“Ha!” The largest of the group exclaims. “That’s going to be really loud for you!” 

“Actually, it will be the opposite.” Tech says. “As the link strengthens with distance, it weakens the closer we are. At this proximity, we won’t be able to hear each other’s thoughts at all.” 

“As interesting as all of this is, we’re supposed to be laying low, remember?” The one that had spoken up earlier says. 

You can’t help but snort, looking up at him. He’s shorter than the others, and has a skull tattooed on half of his face. “No one around here is going to say anything. Well, they’re all horrible gossips because nothing ever happens around here, but don’t worry. They only talk amongst each other. If you’re looking to hide, this is your place. No one cares about this planet. It’s too inconvenient.” 

“She’s right.” Tech says. “It took us two days to reach here from the nearest hyperspace lane. The Republic had no interest in this planet. It’s highly unlikely the Empire will even consider it, since it has a small population and no major exports.” He pulls out a datapad, typing rapidly on it. “According to my research there’s not even a starport on this planet.” 

The one with the skull tattoo stares at you hard, like he’s trying to see through your skin. You can tell he doesn't exactly trust you. But, if Tech’s thoughts were anything to go off of, he doesn't have good reason to trust anyone. 

“This may be our only option for the time being.” Another one says. He’s rather gaunt and pale with a headset on. 

The four of them share looks, seeming to silently communicate for a moment before they turn back to you. “Do you know of anywhere we could lay low for a while?” The skull tattoo asks her. 

You shrug, sizing up the largest of them. “Well, I could use some help on my farm. If you’re not opposed to manual labor, I have plenty of space.” 

They share another long look, silently debating your offer. You’re not sure why you’re offering space to total strangers, aside from possibly some free help for the upcoming harvest. Also, perhaps, because one of them is your soulmate. 

“We’ll take you up on that offer.” Skull tattoo says, turning back to you. 

You nod. “Great. I’m out on the outskirts, though. It’s a bit of a hike.”

“We will fly and meet you there.” Tech says. “I can find it.” 

“Right.” You nod. Of course he could just read your mind and figure out where it is. “I guess I’ll see you there.” 

You head back to your speeder, setting off out of town and out to your property. You glance up as a ship flies overhead, landing at the back of the house as you drive up. You park in your usual spot, watching as they leave the ship. Skull tattoo takes the lead as they approach you. 

“I’m Hunter.” He introduces himself, motioning to the others. “This is Wrecker, Echo, Tech, and Omega.” He motions to the youngest, a girl no older than fifteen, who waves at you with a smile. 

You introduce yourself, waving back. 

“Thank you for doing this.” Hunter says. 

You shrug. “I am serious about needing the extra help.” 

“Whatever you need, we’ll do it.” He says sincerely. 

“We’ll worry about that tomorrow.” You say, glancing at the setting sun. “You can get settled tonight.” 

You lead them inside, wishing you had tidied up a bit. Then again, you hadn’t really expected to have company. The house feels small with the five extra bodies in it. Just like it used to. 

“My room’s down there.” You point down one of the hallways, before turning to the other. “The three spare rooms are down here.” You lead them down the hallway. “There’s spare clothes in the dressers you’re welcome to, if they fit. There’s blankets in the closet and towels in the fresher. There’s also an outhouse by the barn if you’re feeling brave. I’ll let you get settled and go start on dinner.” 

You scurry your way down the hallway, leaving them alone. You can practically hear the rebuking by your grandmother at letting complete strangers into your home so willingly. It’s not like you had anything of value left. 

And they’re technically not strangers. At least, not totally. 

***

You curl up in the chair, looking out at the light bugs dancing over the crops. A figure steps out on the porch, slowly approaching you. You don’t have to look up to know who it is. Despite only being around him for a short time, you feel like you’ve known him forever.

“Can’t sleep?” You ask, turning to look at him as he sits. 

“I have no need to.” He says simply. You blink at him in confusion. “We were designed to need less sleep than the average nat-born.” 

“Right.” You say slowly. 

“We are clones.” He explains, holding your gaze. “We were created as part of an experimental unit exploring various enhancements. Hunter has enhanced senses, Wrecker increased strength, and I have a high intellect.” 

“That...makes a lot of sense.” You say. “I figured you were involved in the war. I heard all about your battle strategies and whatnot.” 

“Yes, that could have been very inconvenient if you had been involved with the Separatists.” He adjusts his goggles as he stares at you. “The Kaminoans weren’t sure if the clones would experience soulmates, but the first generation began developing links almost immediately. It complicated things, as soulmate links are strong motivators and many clones deserted in order to find and be with their soulmates. The Kaminoans had to take rather extreme measures and forbid us from attempting to contact or initiate the bond. Those that met their mates had to reject them, as the Jedi do. When I realized we shared a telepathic connection I was worried that may put the Republic in danger, but I assessed you were not a threat.” 

“Thanks.” You say flatly, taking in his words. 

“I wish we could have come sooner, but with the Empire after us after we deserted, I didn’t want to put you at risk. Now that things have settled down, I brought us to this planet in hopes of locating you. I used your thoughts to discern which planet you were on and if it would be suitable for us to hide, or perhaps even settle down somewhere permanently.” He continues, barely pausing to breathe. “I did pay attention to your thoughts. I didn’t understand many of them early on, but I’ve grown to understand you.” 

You blink a bit at his words. He had located you solely on your thoughts, which meant he really had seen and heard them. Even though he hadn’t responded much, and from what it sounds like for a good reason, he had still heard you. 

“You think a lot.” You say lamely, scrambling for a reply. You’re not quite sure what to say. For a while you had been upset that he seemed to ignore you, but from what it sounds like, he hadn’t been ignoring you at all. 

“Yes, a byproduct of my genetic enhancements.” He says. 

“It’s strange, now.” You say, leaning back in your seat, looking out at the town lights in the far distance. “Everything’s so quiet. As annoying as it was sometimes...I never really did feel alone. You...had perfect timing.” 

“Well, they do say fate is never wrong.” 

You smile. “I guess so. My grandparents built this place from the ground up. They were fugitives, on the run from the Republic.” His eyes widen a bit at that statement. “They came across this place by accident, like most do, and decided to settle down. My parents stayed here too, keeping it running while my grandparents got older and eventually passed. My brothers left as soon as they could. I haven’t seen them since. It was around that time you showed up. Shortly after my dad got sick. My mom didn’t last long after he passed. That left me alone. Well, alone with a clone talking in my head.” You smile softly at him. “I’m glad you’re here now.” 

***

You wake early as usual, the others rising around the same time. Must have been a side effect of being a soldier. You make breakfast before heading out to the barn. You start Wrecker and Hunter on moving some things before taking Tech and Echo to the barely functioning equipment. 

“This one’s the most important.” You pat the combine affectionately. “I was in town to get a part when I ran into you yesterday. She starts, but as soon as you put her in gear, she dies.” 

Tech rubs his chin, staring at it. “I can fix that.” 

The guys settle in easily, jumping right into helping you with the farm. Tech and Echo are a blessing in disguise, quickly getting all of the equipment back up and running more efficiently than they had before. Wrecker and Hunter help you with the more physical things, setting everything up for the coming harvest. Omega becomes your shadow, happily learning about the plants, their growth stages, and how to know when they’re ready to harvest. 

It feels nice, having the farm full of life again. It feels like it used to, when your family had been all together. In a way, you’ve found a new family. You know your parents would be proud, after they got over the shock of you letting complete strangers in. 

After the farming equipment is fixed, Tech moves his sights to the house, fixing and updating everything he can get his hands on. Anything broken or almost broken, he’s quick to jump in with an “I can fix that.” 

You both also begin to grow closer, albeit slowly. Just as you had suspected with his raging thoughts, he constantly needed to be doing something. Finding time to be alone with him is hard, even with the others trying to help. Currently his attention is being taken up by a schematic for a new barn. He had already planned out an expansion of the house for the others for more privacy, which was a sweet thought, but you want to have time with him. 

Your moment comes when you get up late one night, heading to the kitchen for a drink. Your mind has been running nonstop with the harvest nearly upon you and all of the details you had to make sure were perfect. It’s a bit different this time, now that you have help, but habits are hard to break and you can’t stop trying to make sure every little thing gets addressed. 

You head into the kitchen, spotting a glow from the living room. You peek your head around the corner, spotting Tech lounging on the couch in the dark, face illuminated by the glow of a datapad. 

“Tech?” You ask quietly, stepping into the living room, flipping on a light. “What are you doing out here?” 

He looks up, barely moving the datapad. “Wrecker decided to lock me out of the room tonight.”

“Oh.” You say lamely. “That’s not very nice.” 

He shrugs. “Can’t say I’ll miss his snoring.” 

You bite your lip, staring at his scrunched figure on the couch. You shift on your feet nervously, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. “You could...come to my room.” 

Your heart is pounding a bit as you stare at him. You had yet to be so forward with him, both of you dancing around that first step. He stares back over the top of the datapad, eyes wide. For a moment you regret offering. For a moment you wish you could hear his thoughts again. 

"It...might be more comfortable." You hurry to add, not wanting to scare him off. "I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep right now and I could use some company."

He moves slowly, hesitantly. He pushes himself to sit up, rising from the couch. You forget how tall he is, used to seeing him hunched over something. You turn, making your way to your room. He follows behind you, carrying the datapad with him. 

You turn to him as your door closes, his eyes scanning your room. He’s drawn to the photos on the wall, ones of you and your family. You come to stand next to him, telling him about each photo. Perhaps you’d have to add some more soon. 

“My grandparents.” You point to the last one. “After their first harvest. They were so good at this, running a farm. They made it seem so easy.” You move, sitting on the edge of your bed. “There’s so much to think about, though. Everything has to go right because if one thing goes wrong it can mess up the harvest and ruin your entire year. They were so effortlessly good at it. It was like a second sense. They knew exactly when to harvest and could read the weather just by looking at the plants.” You shake your head, tears brimming. “I’m so scared of failing. It’s so hard to do alone and...I don’t want to be alone anymore.” 

He kneels down in front of you, setting the datapad on the bed. His hand cups your chin, lifting your face so you’re looking at him. His thumb wipes the tear that slides down your cheek, his gaze soft as he stares at you. “I can fix that.” 

He says it so softly, so sweetly, you want to melt right into the bed. You lean into his touch, feeling the rough fabric of his glove. You desperately want to feel his skin against yours. You stare into his eyes, feeling the magnetic pull between you. You can’t help it, the tension that had been building up over the last few weeks since you’d run into him in town beginning to boil over. 

He’s hesitant as your lips touch, holding back a bit. He’s probably never been kissed. You haven’t either, just going off of what feels right. You can practically hear the wheels turning in his head, the thoughts that are probably racing. Once again, you wish you could hear them this close. 

“You’re thinking too much.” You whisper, pulling away for a second. 

Your fingers grab at his shirt, pulling him in closer as you kiss him once more. He finally moves, his arms slipping around you. You pull him as close as you can, your own arms wrapping around him. You never want to let go. You want to stay in this moment forever. You finally feel whole. For the first time in a long time you don’t feel alone. 

Tech’s hands slip under your thighs, lifting you as he stands. It’s so effortless, like you almost don’t weigh anything. He kneels on the bed, dropping you against the pillows. He falls with you, catching himself on his hands above you. You stare up at him, shivering at the intensity in his gaze as he stares down at you. 

“Tech,” You whisper, reaching for him as he lowers himself into you. 

His body slots between your legs perfectly, like he was made to be there. Well, in a way he was. He fits against you like you’re two puzzle pieces, every ridge of his body matching the slope of yours. 

He kisses you harder this time, pulling his gloves off. His bare hands trail up your arms, awakening every nerve ending as they go. Your body feels alive with energy as he touches you, your brain screaming for more. You want to get closer, you want to feel every bit of him that you can. 

“I can feel it,” He murmurs, trailing his lips down your throat. “The soulmate link. The bond between us forming. It’s been studied over and over but still the actual science of it is not understood entirely. At first they thought perhaps it was brain chemicals sending the signals, but while those do play a role, it’s not entirely what draws two people together so perfectly.” 

Your hands tug at his shirt as he rambles, your own discarded on the floor already. “And I don’t think they ever will.” You say, tugging his shirt off as he sits up. “I don’t think it’s something that can be explained in words.” 

He stares down at you, his eyes trailing down your body. Your chest warms a bit under his gaze, your skin prickling with anticipation. “You are sure this is what you want?” He asks, as if it was even a question. 

“If you don’t get me naked right now...” You don’t have to finish the empty threat, his hands tugging your pants off in one pull. 

You’re already wet, your body more than ready for what it had been anticipating. Most soulmates didn’t make it weeks after finally meeting and initiating their bond. Of course, you and Tech had had minimal contact with each other, but your proximity had been very close. You’re not sure how you’ve made it this long, aside from the mounting stress of the coming harvest keeping the desire at bay. 

Tech slides his hands along your sides, sitting up between your thighs. He parts them gently, staring down at your glistening folds. You smile softly, sitting up a little and grabbing his hand. You guide him to your clit, guiding him on how to please you. 

You moan quietly as he takes over, picking it up quickly. Thank the maker he’s a quick learner. You let your body drop back onto the bed, sighing out another moan. “Kriff, Tech. Just like that.” 

The pleasure builds within you, igniting your body. It feels so good, unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. There’s a coil tightening in your belly, pressure building within you. 

You grab his hand before you cum, stopping him. “I want you inside me.” You say, sitting up to tug at his pants. 

He stands from the bed, letting them drop. You gape at the size of him, opening your legs wider. He crawls between them, pumping his hand over his length a couple times. “I’ve never done this before.” He says, staring down at you. 

“I haven’t either.” You say, swallowing nervously. You’re not sure why you’re nervous. You trust him. 

You wrap a hand around him, guiding him in place. He lowers himself to hover over you, letting your hand do the work. You wince a bit as he presses in, putting a hand on his hip to still him. You probably should have prepared a bit more for this, but you’re too desperate to feel him to care. 

You squeeze his hip, telling him to move. Your arms wrap around his back, holding on as he slowly works his way inside you. The stretch burns a bit, but his lips on your shoulder help distract from the discomfort. 

He groans once he’s seated inside you, his face pressing against your neck. You cling to him, finally feeling whole and content since his arrival. You can’t help but feel like this is where you’re supposed to be, right here in his arms. Despite the discomfort you shift your hips, moving him inside you. 

“Tech,” You murmur, your lips brushing his ear. 

He hums against your neck, gently kissing the skin. 

“Move.” You say, shifting your hips once more. 

He presses up onto his elbows, looking down at you as he begins to rock his hips. It’s a bit awkward and sloppy at first, but he picks up a rhythm quickly. Your lips part as you stare up at him, holding his gaze behind his goggles. You get lost in the intensity of them, the focus as he stares at you. You want to know what he’s thinking, you want to know what’s running through that head of his right now. 

He leans down to kiss you as his fingers find your clit, swallowing your moans as you cum. His thrusts turn sloppy, pressing into you once more before he releases inside of you. You both stay still, lips brushing in soft kisses as you take each other in. 

Tech pulls away from you, stepping into your fresher to grab a cloth to clean you both up with before he slides under the covers with you. You rest against his chest, wrapping an arm around him as he holds you. 

“Tech?” You ask, breaking the comfortable silence. He hums, fingers tracing patterns on your back. “You could have easily unlocked the door.” 

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Yes, I could have. Perhaps I was hoping for an invitation.” 

“You’ve never needed one.” You lean up, pressing a kiss to his lips. “You know that. You’ve always been welcome here.” 

Taglist:

@stressed-cherry

#star wars #star wars fic #the bad batch #the bad batch fic #tbb tech #tbb tech x reader #soulmate au

[wolfjackle-creates]

Bring Me Home Arc 2 Part 5

It's Wednesday again, you know what that means! I'm going to officially start calling this Arc 2 instead of Chapter 2 because it's too long already and I only *just* get to the plot with the end of this segment.

Story Summary: Tim and Danny are both neglected by parents who care more about their work than their families. They deal with this by spending too much time online and find each other playing MMORPGs. They keep up their friendship as Tim becomes Robin and Danny becomes Phantom and don't bother keeping secrets from each other.

First, Previous

Word Count 1.3k words

-----

Tim clenched his teeth, but allowed himself to be pulled to the counter where they ordered an obscene amount of food thanks to the appetite of four metas. He insisted on using B’s card to pay for everyone.

Sam didn’t even wait for their food to be ready before she started questioning Conner.

“What do you think of rich people?” she demanded.

“Um… What?” Conner looked to Tim, eyes wide, clearly lost as to what he should answer.

Tim just shrugged.

“What. Do. You. Think of rich people? It’s not a hard question. I’m just trying to gage your actual punkness.”

“I don’t… I mean, Mr. Wayne is cool. I’ve met him a few times and he’s always been nice to me. But Lex Luthor… He’s the worst.” Even now, Conner couldn’t help but shudder when he thought of his creator and Tim scowled into his soda.

“Don’t mince words, Kon,” Tim said. “Luthor should be shot and dropped in the deepest part of the ocean.”

Conner laughed and pointed to Tim. “Yeah, that.”

“Hmmm… It’s a start.” Sam nodded. “Really, there’s only one rule to being punk and everything else derives from that: the man sucks.”

“The man?”

And there it was. Conner was still learning a lot of slang. “She means the people in charge. That you can’t trust the government or people in authority to actually have your best interests at heart or to do the right thing.”

“Oh!” Conner’s eyes lit up in understanding. “Well, obviously! I’ve always had to look after myself. At least until I met you guys.”

Cassie elbowed him. “And now you’re stuck with us for life. You’re ours.”

“Damn right!” Bart held out a fist to Conner who bumped it with his own.

Danny laughed. “You weren’t exaggerating, Secrets. You guys really are ride-or-die.”

Tim looked over his friends and couldn’t hold back a soft smile. “Damn right we are. Just like you three.”

“Well, we know something about the ‘or die,’” said Danny.

Tim rolled his eyes. “You’re worse than Dick.”

Tucker’s mouth was open as he looked between them. “They know?”

“Yeah,” said Danny. “Tim’s known since, like, a week after the accident. And when they came by my house, my parents decided to show off the home defense system. Couldn’t keep it a secret after that.”

Based on Sam’s wince, she knew exactly what the home defense system could do to Danny. Tucker pulled out one of his devices and started typing on it. “Will you finally let me do something about that?”

Danny just rolled his eyes. “I’m fine, Tucker. Sam. Tim. All of you. My parent’s inventions never work right. Or they don’t know how to actually use them. They didn’t think the thermoses worked at first, for God’s sake!”

“Right.” Tucker rolled his eyes. “Because their guns have never worked. Tim, can I have your number and email? Maybe if we all get on him he’ll listen to sense one of these days.”

“Oooh!” Cassie bounced in her seat. “I’ll help! We’ve lots of experience in that with Tim. He’s also the worst at calculating reasonable risks.”

“Great!” Tucker typed her number and email into his PDA and they started setting up group chats. Bart joined in by discussing some of Tim’s more ridiculous civilian escapades.

Tim exchanged a look with Danny. This was so not going to end well.

“Well, while they’re sorting that out, more about punk!” Sam pulled Conner deeper into a conversation about fighting for freedom and liberty and how her ultra recyclo-vegetarianism fit into her beliefs.

Tim sighed and said, “Well, at least they’re getting along?”

Danny groaned and held his head in his hands. “We’re so going to regret introducing them, aren’t we?”

“I already do.”

And then their order was called. Of course Bart was at the counter before any of the rest had even registered it was their order, but Conner and Cassie jumped up to follow and help him carry it.

Sam tried to go help but Tim held out a hand. “They’ve got it, trust me. Having more people will just make it harder for them.”

She still stood, but by the time she turned to help, the others were already returning with hands full of loaded trays. She scowled as she settled back down.

“We would’ve helped,” she said as the others set the food down.

Bart waved her off. “We got it! Sides, most of this is for me, Conner, and Cassie.”

Danny shook his head. “I ordered just as much as you!”

Tucker agreed, “And I ordered almost as much.”

Cassie shrugged as she rooted through bags and grabbed her orders. “Well we got there first. Come on, I’m hungry. Quit arguing and grab your food!”

Danny passed one bag to Sam, “One salad for you.” And a second bag found it’s way in front of Tim. “And a nasty burger for you. You’ll never want to eat a batburger again after this!”

Tim rolled his eyes, but obligingly unwrapped the burger and took a bite. He hummed in appreciation. It really was a solid burger and the sauce was quite good. “I do like it, I’ll give you that. But I still prefer Batburger.”

“Ugh, you’re hopeless!” Turning his back to Tim, Danny addressed the others. “What about you three? Batburger or Nasty Burger?”

Conner shrugged, “This is great, but it’ll always be Batburger for me, too.”

Cassie elbowed him as she finished her bite. “That’s only because you and Tim get midnight burgers there too often and you are mixing up the taste with the memories. These are clearly better.”

Bart had already finished his first burger and was licking his fingers clean. “Yep. These are absolutely better.”

Tim threw an arm around Danny’s shoulders. “Fifty-fifty split! Means we can’t make a decision until you come to Gotham and try one yourself.”

“Oh, that’s what it means, does it? And when do you think I’ll make it to Gotham?”

“Any time you want! You can stay with me. Hell, I’ll even pick you up and bring you there.”

Danny grinned. “If I ever can guarantee a break from ghost attacks, I might take you up on that.”

“Right,” said Sam to Conner. “While they’re flirting”—she expertly ignored Tim and Danny’s spluttered protests—“have you ever tried wearing makeup? I think you’d look killer in eyeliner.”

Meanwhile, Tucker pulled out his PDA and some headphones and started showing a video to Cassie and Bart who shifted to better see the screen.

Tim took a large bite of his burger, unsure what to say to Danny after Sam’s comment.

Danny didn’t seem to have the same reservations and shifted so he could press his shoulder against Tim’s. “Sorry. She and Tuck like to tease me. They’ve been calling you my internet boyfriend for ages.”

That admission made his face heat even more, but Tim tried to shrug it off. “It’s fine.” He knew from Dick that if he continued to protest, everyone would just take it as further confirmation they were right.

Danny shrugged and grabbed another container. Tucker tried to protest, but Danny ignored him. “Here, try a chili cheese fry; they’re great.”

Tim let out a breath and grabbed a fry, getting chili and cheese all over his hands as he did. “Thanks.”

Somehow, the group managed to not get yelled at for an hour as they laughed and joked in the corner booth, but eventually an employee came over to ask if they needed anything else. Danny ordered a milkshake for Jazz, and the group filed out. Night had set in fully while they’d been eating and Tim looked up at the sky. The stars really were much more visible here than in Gotham.

And that was when a large, swirling-green gash opened up in the night sky and dozens of ghosts started pouring through.

-----

Next

Sam is so going to try and radicalize Conner. Tim is just gonna let it happen. At least this radicalization is better than what he'd been exposed to previously.

Tag List Part 1

@gremlin-bot, @bonebrokebuddy, @britcision, @lady-time-lord-, @welcometosasakiworld, @akikkobara, @phoenixdemonqueen, @dolfay, @skulld3mort-1fan, @we-ezer, @markus209, @sjrose1216, @onyxlightdragon, @dragonsrequiem, @jesus-camp-the-sequel, @spidey29phangirl, @kyrianclawraith, @evilminji, @introvert-even-on-the-internet, @emergentpanda-blog, @lexdamo, @v-inari, @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit, @longlivethefallen, @undead-essence, @xye-chan, @liandrin, @seraphinedemort, @kisatamao, @schalensitzbucket, @caelestisdreamer, @runfromthemedic, @nutcase8691, @channajen, @tonicmii, @ambiguouslyominous, @vythika96, @addie-lover-of-stories, @ironicvixen, @violetfox2, @pickleking8, @mysticalcomputerdetective, @ark12, @mygood-bitch99, @squirrel-wolf, @satisfactionbroughtmeback, @sometimesthingsfallapart, @automaticsoulharmony, @d4ydr34min9, @revnantdpxdclover, @midigeria, @raginblastocyst, @feral-bunny31, @lunaria618, @ghostreblogging, @ace-aro-as-shit

#dpxdc #dead tired #is that a plot you spy? #why yes it is! #the rest of this will be written as I rewatch the singular episode over and over and over again #i hope itll go quickly

[sunshine-jesse]

Ashley Literally Did Nothing Wrong, Fuck You, Fight Me

Alt title: Ashley Graves: The most convenient scapegoat in the world

I'm going to espouse a take here that will no doubt be controversial, as you can tell by the title. This is a take I've created from my hollistic understanding of the events of the game, and isn't dependent on any one single point I make in this essay. Because of that, I want you to read it with an open mind; if you hyperfocus on one or two smaller details I might've gotten wrong or are fallaciously interpretated, and either use that to discount the whole essay or go into the comment section and immediately try to debunk my interpretation of that event, that'll make it obvious to me that you're not trying to seriously engage with the core of what I'm trying to say. Because unless quite literally everything I've said here is wrong, I feel confident in saying this:

Ashley Graves did nothing wrong.

Moreover, I think Ashley is on the level of people like Rossiu, Shinji Ikari, and Skylar White as far as people who are mistreated by their fandoms goes.

At first this was going to be an essay about how I don't think the demons are evil, using textual and thematic evidence to show that they're just part of a system that deals mostly fairly with humans and doesn't have any nefarious plans, or at least nefarious plans that stand to fuck anyone over. But then I realized that, goodness gracious, that is boring as shit to write! But I looked at what I had written already and realized that I could write something else with it: something better. I could sum up a lot of the points made in my prior essays and elaborate upon them in much more detail, showing why I think certain themes are obviously present within this game. And here, I intend on doing that.

I've spoken a lot before about how Ashley is a scapegoat for all of Andrew's worst habits; and to a lesser extent, her mother's. The game makes it seemingly obvious that she's the bad one, and generally just a Very Not Good person. It shows her and her brother committing many different acts that are, under most moral systems, wrong, and implicitly implies that she's the reason that Andrew ever did those things. It implies that she's corrupting him, that he could be better and refuses- or is unable to- due to her poking and prodding. But… is that the truth? Is that how their relationship actually works, in practice? I don't believe so. I think I've made it obvious by now that I believe the exact opposite!

I'm going to start off by tackling the morality behind their actions, especially relative to the world they're in. Specifically, I'm going to tackle how the game presents the morality of their actions from a thematic point of view, and any statements it may or may not make.

First of all, TCOAL plays with a lot of different taboos- demon summoning, cannibalism, incest, murder- but the game goes through great lengths to muddy the moral weight of the siblings' actions. Every single action they commit is portrayed in the most neutral possible light- killings were done in self defense (with one notable exception), or done to people who greatly wronged them, cannibalism was a necessity to survive (also with one notable exception), incest is shown to come from a marked improvement in their relationship- leading me to believe that this game is taking a hard morally nihilistic stance. Else, they'd be shown to suffer for their actions, when in reality, the literal exact opposite is happening; they are being rewarded for it. This isn't necessarily glorifying the actions, but instead showing that even the worst of actions can potentially be excused, but whether or not you do is up to the reader. Hence, nihilism, or at the very least, skepticism (as noted by Lisafication). There's an existentialist reading of this too, but I think much of that is contingent on the events of chapter 3 so I won't get into that here.

It contrasts this mostly nihilistic perspective on interpersonal taboos with the deep societal ills that drive people to commit such actions. Evil exists at every level of analysis here, but curiously, the only thing that are shown to do direct harm to others without having a justification of some kind- be it self-defense or retaliation- are those societal ills. There is no (morally) good reason to quarantine people, starve them, and harvest their organs. There's no good reason to burn all evidence and then put a hit on the ones who did escape. There's no good reason to extort sexual favors from someone in exchange for food. These are deep structural problems that force people to either retaliate/lash out or enable people's most exploitative or abusive habits lest they just let themselves die.

And thus, the obvious evils become much less obvious. The game makes a point of subverting the obvious or the well-known when it comes to morals, and I think it does so when it comes to everything else, too. Outside of those societal ills (so far, ch3 might have something else to say), every situation where someone could obviously be shown as the bad person in a situation is immensely more complex than it first appears. So much so that I'd argue that displaying said complexity and subverting simplicity to force/encourage people to analyze things deeper is one of the central themes of the game.

So why, exactly, does he blame so much on her? It's because Ashley is the world's most convenient scapegoat, and the game is well-aware of this and displays it in ways both obvious and not.

First off: the title screen has Ashley wielding the cleaver, establishing that she’s the violent one. It's covered in blood, too, implying that she's the one more driven to kill. The reality of this is the opposite; Andrew is the one with less hesitation to inflict violence on others, the cleaver is his weapon, and most of the kills in the story are done by him (and fully justified). Ashley might push him to do these violent acts, but… does she?

Her reaction to the death of the first warden is one of utter shock.

And her expression afterwards?

This is not the look of someone who enjoyed the fact that someone killed for her sake. This is not the look of someone who finds joy to be had in violence. It's not even the look of someone who is apathetic towards violence. It almost seems to express shame or guilt, but at the very least, she's timid over it. At the very least, it's an "oh shit, he actually had to do that for my sake" face. Not a "haha, I am making him worse!" face.

Not to mention, not only does Andrew kill the first Warden without a care in the world, he proactively kills the 302 lady to eliminate all witnesses, and because he believes Ashley would want him to. But Ashley actually grills him for it; she didn't want the 302 lady to die, although she hardly had good-person-reasons for it. But that's not my point. The point is that she is not the violent one between the two of them.

The door doesn't open in response to violence, remember?

The game intentionally misleads us.

And what happens when Ashley tries to make him take responsibility for all this violence? To point out that she didn't force him to do anything and that he chose to do all of it, including lock Nina in the box? She lashes out, hits him a few times… and then he goes to strangle her, and doesn't let go until she acknowledges that he has no reason for her to be around. He literally doesn't cease his threat to her life until she acknowledges she's useless to him.

I acknowledge that this isn't the most charitable framing for Andrew, and maybe too charitable for Ashley. After all, she wasn't indignant. She was mocking him. She found it hilarious. But I have reasons for that charitability that I'll go over towards the end. But even with that charitability in mind, I don't think my reading is too off base. Defaulting to laughter or mocking in stressful situations is just what Ashley does. She's not indignant about it; she just finds it hilarious that people keep pretending to be better than her, when they're not.

Andrew killed the 302 lady and used Ashley as a scapegoat to justify it; this is indisputable, stated in the text during the dream. This alone validates Ashley's point of view. There is no interpretation of this event that doesn't paint Andrew as every bit as unscrupulous as Ashley, and thinking she corrupted him into this- when it was both one of the first actions he did on his own in the story and something he explicitly uses Ashley as a scapegoat for- is just ridiculous. It's frankly unreasonable. She has every right to be sick of being used as a scapegoat. And at the very least, whether or not you accept the idea that Andrew only let Ashley go once she acknowledged that she's useless to him, he's still so taken aback by his misinterpretation of Ashley's desires that HE goes to strangle HER.

This is NOT Andrew triumphantly standing up to his abuser. This is both of their masks slipping; Andrew revealing how violent and insistent on keeping up his internal narrative that he is, and Ashley revealing that she's getting tired of being blamed for everything.

And then, when he finally lets her go… she hugs him, and acknowledges that she's happy that Nina is gone, which makes little sense at the face of it. Why would that be her first response to being let go, when it was ostensibly what made Andrew so upset to begin with?

I think, to her, it's a conciliatory gesture. As chapter 2 showed us, she's more than willing to take responsibility for violence to relieve Andrew of stress over it, as evidenced by her finishing off their parents. This is an earlier instance of that; by acknowledging she was happy that Nina was dead, she took responsibility for it. She willingly framed herself as a bad person here, so Andrew wouldn't have to be.

She let herself be the scapegoat, because it's all she ever knew. She put the mask back on.

This alone is enough to challenge the idea that Ashley 'corrupts' Andrew in any meaningful way. How, exactly, can you define it as corrupt when society itself is twisted enough to force these actions to survive? In a more sane world, a lot of their actions would've been bad, sure, but they're also actions that the siblings probably wouldn't have done in a more sane world. Ashley's actions aren't making Andrew worse, they're helping to ensure their survival. You could say that this is still corruptive in its own way, but at that point it seems like your reasoning is motivated by having already had that narrative rather than making a good-faith reading of their dynamic.

At no point did she actually make him worse; he was already like that and just used her as an excuse.

Next up is the Nina situation. This one is obviously cut and dry- Ashley manipulates Andrew into killing Nina because she wants no competition between the two of them. It's not Andrew's fault and Ashley was an evil abuser from the jump. Obvious, right?

No. It's really not.

It's pretty strongly implied that Ashley was mistreated by people her whole life. The Lemon Cupcake scene shows this in more detail, about how people always neglect or ignore her birthdays, but she also says that nobody likes her because she's weird and loud in the Nina flashback too. But unless something big happened in between the two flashbacks, none of this behavior indicates particularly maladaptive or even strange tendencies on Ashley's part. She's a needy, bratty child, and the closest thing to a friend she has- Nina- wants to take away the one thing from her that's a source of comfort and emotional validation.

It's not entirely rational, sure! But it also -makes perfect sense-. NOBODY treated her well throughout her entire life; it's strongly implied that Nina never did either, given Nina's reaction to Ashley being there and the lower left-hand painting past the Questionable door showing her being distant from the two of them. We can also see a star bouncing off of her head, and stars represent closeness in this game, so it shows there was an attempt made somewhere along the line, it's just not clear as to who made the attempt.

At the very least, Nina's reaction of disappointment fed into Ashley's preconceived notions of how people treat her, and how she deserves to be treated. Although, from what has been directly stated, rather than implied, Nina was nothing more than an innocent victim in this scenario; I don't mean to take that away from her.

"But she didn't care when Nina died?"

So? If Nina treated her like trash for most of her life, why should she care? She didn't expect Nina to die. It was just an acceptable consequence. You can say "That's not how normal kids act!" all you want, but there's a level of spite and apathy that comes with intense bullying and emotional neglect that I don't think you really understand unless you've been there to the extent someone like Ashley has implied to be.

Andrew, meanwhile, was the one who told Ashley that they had to lock Nina in the box to keep them in there. He's the one who looked for and found the stick to keep them locked in. You could say he was coerced by an abusive person into hurting someone, sure, but you'd be wrong. Cataclysmically wrong, even. Like, if you actually think that a seven year old girl (nobody wears overalls past the age of seven) can have anything approximating an abusive dynamic with her as the perpetrator with someone both older and stronger than her, you frankly have some issues with women you need to work out. That's simply not how abuse dynamics work at that age.

Andrew wasn't entirely responsible for it either, mind- he was just a kid who should never have been saddled with this kind of responsibility. But that's not my point; the point is that it enables other people, Andrew included, to use her as a scapegoat to avoid his own responsibility. All this scene does is retroactively justify any preconceptions you might've had about them from seeing their adult selves first. But the moment you start digging, it becomes much less obvious who's really culpable here. Andrew was, as evidenced by the blood oath scene, fully aware that he held the advantage over her in strength, and managed to give up nothing when making the oath while he made Ashley swear to silence. He was fully aware that he could've chosen to do better, but he refused, and instead opted to reinforce Ashley's insecurities for the sake of exerting control over her.

I've said before that the 302 lady was murdered without any input from Ashley, but this is also relevant on a meta-level because it's done without any input from the player, either. Both of the murders in chapter 1 were like that, whereas all that we, the player can choose to do in that chapter is either solve puzzles, or hilariously, die. The only person with control here is Andrew, the character, and this is reinforced by the fact that we have no control over him for much of the Nina flashback, too. He locks her in the box regardless of our input, even though Ashley spends a lot of time trying to convince him. The main difference between the Nina flashback and the scenes in the apartment is that Ashley had absolutely no idea that any of that was going to happen in the present, whereas it's something she wanted with Nina- which isn't that big of a difference when discussing how much agency she really has.

As much as the game frames Ashley as a manipulator- and much of the fanbase uncritically accepts- she is given shockingly little in-game control over many of the actions committed. Even in the case of the Hitman- as a good friend of mine pointed out- the only choice the player is given is whether or not to check the closet and be killed; an impulsive decision leading to a swift and unceremonious end. In the end, Andrew is the one given the choice to kill the hitman, and we can consciously choose whether or not his reaction is panicked or measured. No such choice is given to Ashley, as most of her reactions are impulsive and spontaneous rather than planned. This is not the makings of a standard "manipulative evil bitch" trope. She's pretty consistently portrayed as someone with poor impulse and emotional control who loudly and aggressively states her intent in every single scenario she's in.

And you can still call what she says and does manipulative despite that, sure, but at what point are you just pathologizing relatively normal (if extreme and highly emotional) social interactions for the sake of fitting into a narrative you already held?

We see Ashley's status as a scapegoat for people to use to pretend to be normal reach its most blatant with the parents. This time it's pretty cut and dry to anyone that doesn't already have it in their mind that Ashley is evil and unforgivable. Mrs. Graves explicitly brings up the possibility of a normal life without Ashley to Andrew in the basement, and claims that Ashley was at fault for shutting her out. She would've been a normal parent otherwise, right? Well, no; the game wastes no time in showing that this wasn't the case in the Burial ending.

From when Ashley was a baby, Mrs. Graves was already tired of her shit, and too emotionally exhausted to be a parent. Despite her attempts at blaming Ashley, she would've never been a normal parent unless Ashley was a golden child in the same way that Andrew was. And yet Ashley didn't even deny shutting her mom out. She didn't deny the chance to be used as a scapegoat; it was all she ever knew. The fact that Mrs. Graves had the audacity to claim that she was a saint when she was never prepared to be a parent for a child who didn't make it easy, and when she was willing to sell out her children and let them die for a life insurance payment is absolutely astounding.

This alone should've been enough to recontextualize everything we supposedly know about how responsible Ashley really is in all of this, but bad parents have a knack for being great at manipulating both family members and everyone viewing from the outside, including the people playing the game.

And almost including Andrew.

Andrew almost accepting the mom's offer is the single most tragic moment in the game, by far.

Dandy said it best in his video essay: By Ashley leaving Andrew alone with their parents, she showed that she is capable of changing. That she is capable of getting better. She showed that she loves and respects Andrew enough to be able to put aside her usual role as the scapegoat and allow him to make the decision that was for the best for both of them. And make no mistake, it was for the best; if the mom really DID sell out the siblings, and given the two of them were already on the run for supposedly being dead, there was no hope of any of this ever working out. They saw through the conspiracy and knew the truth of how the quarantine operations really worked. They were an active threat to one of the most powerful entities seen in the setting so far, to the point where they had a hitman sent after them.

Mrs. Graves had every reason to sell them out again, for their presence in a public setting was more than enough to put everyone in their family in danger. Mrs. Graves had every reason to believe that the normalcy she wanted was nothing that could ever be grasped again so long as her children were alive, and as such, it was clear that she had nothing to offer either Andrew or Ashley. Ashley trusted Andrew to see through their obvious manipulations and lies, and understand that the parents had nothing left to give them. She trusted him to love her more than the false promises their parents could give.

…And yet. In spite of it all.

In spite of her love, in spite of clearly displaying that she can grow up and become a person that causes him less stress, and in spite of Ashley showing that all she wants now is their safety and security…

Andrew can still choose to consider Ashley the problem. He can still choose to use her as the scapegoat he always has.

He can still choose to see her as the one thing that caused him to be this way, that stands in between him and normalcy, when she, not once, forced him to do anything.

Were he to accept Mrs. Graves' offer, this would've been the single most tragic moment in the game. It almost was, and still stands to be, because he ignores every indication that things could be better for the sake of his own narrative, and a narrative echoed by much of the fandom.

But no matter what ending was picked, things could be better. They could've been better all along. Compared to chapter 1, their dynamic in chapter 2 is already much healthier. Their banter is less venomous, and while they still poke and prod each other in ways that aren't exactly great, they don't get into the same violent fights we saw in the 302 room. By all accounts, what happened in that room was an outlier. Even when they find themselves in their parents' house, where they stand to do the One Thing That Means They Would Never Be Normal Again, Ever (ignoring the fact that this is already a lost cause by then), Ashley doesn't get into any fights with Andrew in the same way she did back in the apartment. All she wants is affirmation and security. She doesn't even lay into her mom like she lays into Julia over the phone, even in their private conversations.

We’re led to believe that she’s still getting worse because the actions she’s taking are more extreme, but her attitudes and behaviors are much, much different. The actual actions they're taking are so obviously the right thing to do (both morally and practically) that I don't think it's until they eat their parents that you should make a double take and go "Wow, maybe these goblins actually are kinda fucked up," because until then, well… everything is justified! Perfectly so! Even then, eating their parents serves a purpose, even if not a mentally healthy one.

Maybe she’s calmer because she’s in control over the situation, but if the calls she made to Julia are any indication (independent of the theory that she didn’t actually say those things), were she unchanged as a person, she still would’ve lashed out at their mother over how much more useful she is to Andrew than their parents were, or something of that nature. Something about how nothing their mom offers could compete with what Ashley gives. But she makes no such claims. She feels no need to prove anything to her parents, or to reaffirm her place in Andrew’s life even in the face of her mother challenging it (or at least implying such a challenge). Regardless of her insecurities, she’s changed. It’s hard to see, but she has.

And then Andrew can ignore that and consider betraying her because he refuses to believe that she's willing to make their dynamic work, when she shows many different indications of being willing to concede as long as Andrew stops giving her mixed signals.

A friend of mine put it best, and I'm pretty much quoting her word for word here, because of how strongly I agree with it. When I look at Ashley, I find very few actual "flaws." I see familiar wounds.

The Burial ending, despite being triumphant and not nearly as "dark" as some people think, is still very, very sad. A lot of abusive dynamics are characterized by someone having to fight every step of the way to get what they need from the other person, usually some kind of emotional validation or relief. This is what happens between Andrew and Ashley for most of the game: Ashley wants Andrew to treat their relationship as special, to acknowledge there's something to it beyond just him going through the motions. And yet for most of the game, he refuses to, especially in chapter 1. And then, in Burial, when he does…

She's confused.

A lot of people view this as her being afraid of losing control over Andrew, since her "Andy," who she can push around, is gone. Andrew has changed, and the same tricks wouldn't work. But that's not what that is; it's not about control, it's about her finally getting what she wants from him without having to fight. She still thinks about using sex as leverage to keep him around, but that's because she's never understood what it's like to have someone actually want to be around her. And I speak from experience; when you no longer have to fight for every little bit of emotional validation or relief, when you no longer have to keep checking your messages to keep an argument going so you can finally be proven right, when you no longer have to force yourself to let go, to stop engaging, the reaction isn't happiness. It's not relief.

It's confusion. It's discontent.

Because something you've tied so much of yourself up in to is no longer there, despite it being more peaceful, it still feels wrong. The dynamic still has to be this way in your mind, because you've never known anything else. You latch on to whatever you can in order to justify that, and your actions are still heavily biased in favor of maintaining your place in that nonexistent dynamic. This isn't manipulation; it's trauma. And the fact that Ashley almost immediately understands that Andrew is changing is nothing short of a miracle. By consolidating past and present Andrew into a single person rather than splitting them into two, she showing that she can actually heal from that trauma. And all Andrew had to do to enable this is to acknowledge that she CAN change, that things CAN be better, and that everyone who claims to be better than her is full of shit.

I've analyzed the events of the story in a way that may seem needlessly antagonistic to some characters, and overly charitable to others. But I have to ask you, that if you disagree with anything I've said:

Where does that disagreement come from? What about my narrative clashes with your own? -Why- does it clash? Is it because the game presents your interpretation as obvious, whereas mine is not? Is it because you've experienced someone like Ashley before in your life, and you know it when you see it? Maybe you strongly identify with Andrew, and view his status as a doormat with no agency to be obvious? Or did you just accept the narrative that much of the fanbase has taken at face value, without further analysis other than building on top of it?

I don't believe these things to be contrarian; I've held most of these opinions since my first or second playthrough. I don't believe what I do because you don't, I believe what I do because I understand what Ashley has been through. I've experienced a lot of the specific traumas she had, such as deep feelings of isolation and being deprived of the emotional validation I need from the people who need to give it. I know what it's like to be misunderstood, to have who and what I am taken for granted, and to be terrified of being abandoned by the people I need the most. I see what I do because I understand.

And I want to give her that understanding that nobody gave me.

Maybe you should think about it. Why do you take it for granted that Andrew is a doormat who is strung along by Ashley? Why do you find it so odd when the trope of a woman corrupting a good man through leveraging sex is drawn into question? Why is Ashley seen as crazy, when all of her actions are so straightforward and rational? How is she corrupting him, when the single most needlessly violent act in the whole story- outside of the Nina flashback- is done without her influence? Why is Ashley seen as the abusive one when Andrew both threatens and resorts to physical violence and witholds emotional validation?

Weirdly personal tangent aside, Ashley and Andrew are two of the most well-written characters I have ever seen. They're not written like archetypes who interact with each other through a series of tropes; they're written like real people who's words and actions have astoundingly human motivations. They come from places that we can understand and relate to.

And just like people, they deserve respect. In spite of all they've done, they deserve love.

But make no mistake, Ashley is not the one stopping that love from happening. She just has the audacity to still want it in spite of everything telling her that she doesn't deserve it. We're led to believe she wants too much, but all she ever wanted was the bare minimum that she was never given.

And she has every right to be mad about it.

#andrew graves #ashley graves #the coffin of andy and leyley #tcoaal #tcoaal essay #gaming

[popponn]

a seat beside you. [isagi yoichi x reader]

notes: reader's gender unspecified, however mentioned to wear make up to cover up eyebags.

Isagi Yoichi doesn't really pay attention to many things that are not soccer. But, it was hard not to notice things about his seatmate. The one who was seated a few centimeters away from him every day—

You, the star student everyone relies on.

He knew that this was a way for his teachers to scold him to pay more attention to the class. Because if not so, then there was no reason to purposely put him—a student who is mediocre at most and forgetting assignments at worst—next to a perfect record of equally perfect scores like you. But, it wasn't as if it was a bad thing.

You helped Yoichi a lot by pointing at his textbook to where the teacher was explaining whenever he blanked out, explaining some parts on breaks when he asked, and even at some point you started to teasingly remind him about the homework through text.

All in all, you were very pleasant to have.

But, it truly was hard to not notice some things about you too as time went on.

Sometimes, your shoulder sagged and you had a faraway look on your face. At other times, your laugh comes out just a bit too stilted than usual. And just recently, the eyebags you hid under a tiddly applied makeup started to show up even more often.

At some point, to him, it became so easy to tell whenever you push yourself too much.

Yoichi was not quite sure he was close enough to ask you about things like this. He is just some classmate who happened to have his seat beside you and your number saved in his phone. He was also definitely not the best at reaching out to people effortlessly without any hint of awkwardness. Yoichi's anxious heart urged him to just stay silent—and it would not be wrong. He was simply not crossing the line of 'classmates' between the two of you.

But, it also felt wrong to do that.

You are a kind person. Yoichi didn't know many things about you, but you are indeed someone who helped him even when you didn't have to. You are also the only one who cared enough to ask him about his practice and how he was doing in class—it felt wrong to just ignore everything and watch you keep up the act in silence for whatever reason you might had.

That was why, during that Friday, Yoichi braved himself to ask you, his tone shushed, even as the class started to grow emptier.

"Hey, listen, you don't have to answer if you don't want to, but... are you okay? You look tired recently, so..."

And when he got a tired smile and a nervous laugh from you, let out through sagged shoulders and a long sigh with a hint of relief mixed in it, Yoichi felt so glad he chose to.

notes: isagi is an observant person, and there are some people who keep up the "mask" more than anyone else. but don't you think when you are in close proximity with someone every day, you can't really help but notice things about them? isagi is very soccer-headed, but he is kind and not an ungrateful person i think. this thing is a bit more mellow than my usual ones since the main feeling here is "ah, someone who keeps up a mask a lot of time contrasts isagi a lot. but if you think about it, isn't someone like isagi a good match for someone like that too in some degree?". also at the time when i wrote this, my feelings were a bit heavy, but in the end, i still enjoy writing even under such a feeling. I hope to come back to this idea again one day. in the tone of 'developing romance' and such, especially with isagi who seems to understand how it was to accommodate other people. i will think more about this premise again someday, it seems fun to explore more. all in all, think of it as another "more of a prologue meet cute" thing.

#bllk imagines #bllk #bllk x reader #blue lock #blue lock fluff #blue lock x reader #blue lock scenarios #blue lock imagines #bllk fluff #drabbles #blurbs #maybe one day soon #bllk scenarios #isagi x reader #isagi yoichi x reader #isagi fluff #bllk isagi #im not done isagi posting for a week just three more to go #which might have delay on the last two days but im anything if not determined for my boy!! this is comforting too haha #im a bit tired today but anything for you baby. tho i think the longerthanusual an is a hint to that haha #tho i will recheck this again tomorrow

[chaethewriter]

Voices Of The Nights

(OPLA!) RORONOA ZORO X READER

A/N: I wrote this for a writing assignment— but I imagined it was Zoro while writing this. Might not be accurate to lore but enjoy!!

Word count: 1,8K

she/her pronouns, fluff, enemies to lovers?

This was the worst idea ever. Taking on a job with this asshole was one thing, but also sharing a room with him after spending an entire day of misfortune was another. Everything about him annoyed her. An entire day of his mocking and insults was enough– getting on her nerves until a vein on her forehead was close to bursting. She was looking forward to an entire night on her own, in her own space, without seeing that menace of a swordsman for even five hours.

Was that too much to ask for?

Just peace and quiet?

Whatever.

12:00 am. Her gaze moved to the way his body stumbled through the hallway. It made her blood boil. He had blocked an attack to save her, resulting in a large cut from his left shoulder to his abdomen. His clothes were all torn apart from the sharp of the weapon cutting through his skin. It smelled like iron. The hallways were starting to reek of it. Not surprising with the way the blood gushed out of his wounds like a waterfall. He was far worse off than her, after all.

But why did he do it?

Why did he save her?

Did he think of her as weak?

The way his hand shook as he pushed the key into its lock annoyed her. Everything about him annoyed her. She locked the door after she entered after him, her eyes following his movements, his blood basically leaking everywhere and covering the hotel's furniture.

"Stay on the floor. You're gushing blood everywhere." She threw her satchel from her shoulder as she pulled at his arm to stop him from falling into the comfort of the bed. The pull was so hard, resulting in him falling on his back on the cold hard floor. He hissed out a cuss her way, but she ignored it as she basically gripped onto his top and ripped it in half. Revealing his torso, she had to fight the blush that was tempted to show itself.

"Like what you see? Take a picture it lasts longer... argh fuck.." his face was husky as he spoke, soon growing horse and not soon after coughing fit leaving his throat.

"That's what you get for being annoying, now hold still," her hand made way to his chest, touching around the area as her other hand dug into her satchel. Her fingers danced around his pecs. Only to see where it hurt, of course. No other reason. Her fingers lingered a little too long against his skin, and he seemed to notice the gesture. His lips parted as to say something, but she shut him up by pushing a cloth into his mouth.

"This is going to hurt, big boy.." That wasn't a lie. It's going to hurt like shit. And that much was clear from the way he groaned and moved when the alcohol hit his wounds. He had a hard time staying still, moving on top of his lap to keep him down, "Aren't you used to alcohol in your system? Stay still, you're annoying. I'm trying to be gentle." And that also wasn't a lie, as she carefully tended to his wounds– her touches soft on his skin.

2:30am. He was passed out on the bed, the blood that pooled under him seeping into the wooden floor and drying into his skin. Bandages securely wrapped around his torso with the blanket keeping his warm. It's drying up. They will notice. The water is no use.

How to clean this mess?

At least he will be fine.. her eyes looked from the now red cloth she tried to rub the blood with to the unconcious man on the bed. She huffed out in annoyance.

Why did he need to be such a drag?

Always causing problems for her. Yet she would always be ready to care for him.

Why did she even bother?

She didn't understand how she felt. She walked from the bathroom to the bedroom a few more times with old cloths in hand, wetting them and putting them down on the floor– making her way to his bedside. She took a seat on the bed, more like leaning since she barely had any space to properly sit down.

"Why did you block that attack, stupid? Now I need to take care of you. It's all just a pain in the ass!" Her lip shivered as her hand made its way to his torso, pressing around on the bandages to feel if they're still secure, "wake up, you're not weak, are you? You're delaying our mission..!"

That's just it, right? It's all about the mission. It always was. But her eyes said something else, as they softened everytime she glanced his way. Even if she didn't notice it herself.

4:00 am. She was sat on the floor, her back leaned against the side of the bed– that if she looked to the right, he would be in her sight. Not that she would want to. Only glancing his way to see if he was still breathing. At least four times every ten minutes. Just the right amount of times to check.

That wasn't weird at all.

She just had to make sure he wouldn't leave her here all alone on this mission. Occasionally checking on his wounds to see how the wounds were healing, still telling herself she doesn't care and that she will never care. And so she sat, sitting and waiting wide awake– secretly praying to the gods that he would wake up.

In the meantime she couldn't fall asleep.

She wouldn't.

Not with him unable to defend himself. She didn't want them to judge her for being weak, which is stupid since it's his own fault for bleeding out enough liquid to drown the lands. He would flinch from time to time, the bed creaking underneath him as she felt it dip against her back. She would turn around in an instance, her eyes widening as she slightly shook his arm– but to no avail.

8:00 am. Her eyes were stone cold, staring at the wall in front of her. The same wall she had been staring at for the past hours. If you would cover her eyes and ask her what her surroundings looked like, she could tell you in an instance. Sitting cross-legged with his precious sword in her hands, keeping it safe until he woke up. Her grip was tight, fists balled up into the material, ready to pull the blade out of its sheath. Her head would slowly roll back, finding comfort for her neck as her eyes would flutter shut– this wouldn't last long as she would jolt awake.

She had no idea how much time went by, not until the sun shone bright in her eyes and a voice whispered in her ear, hot breath tickling her skin, "been waiting for me, pretty girl?"

The hairs stood straight as her eyes widened, turning around and basically knocking the handle of his own sword into his face.

He groaned loudly, immediately falling back onto the bed with a loud cough, "what the hell was that for!?" She watched him with a shocked face, dropping the sword (not without him scolding her how she had to be careful with that) to grab at his shoulders, "you can't just- just up and go ahead and whisper like that in my ear?!?!?" She was basically burning up, face growing red.

The heat was radiating off her. Incredibly flustered and speechless, she went and smacked him on his torso, right on his healing injury. "Why did you block that attack for me, you asshole?!" She basically screamed into his face, eyes teary (from exhaustion, of course) as she remained eye contact with him.

He just looked up at her while covering his chest with his hand, an attempt to relieve the stinging caused by her slap. But he didn't answer. He kept his mouth shut and stared into her eyes. This made her blood boil even more, but she didn't know the exact reason. "Answer me!! Don't just shut up like a coward! You blocked me from an axe attack, so act like the man you think you are!"

Was she even making sense?

Calling him names to convince herself that she could care less about him.

Calling him names to make it sound like she doesn't care about him.

Calling him names all along to try and create enough distance to not come to terms with her feelings.

Her true feelings.

"You're so fucking stupid! Mindlessly jumping in front of weapons like you're made of steel?!? Is that head of yours empty?!" She bumped her fist into his head, punching his temple to see if it sounded as hollow as she thought.

"Cut that out." He grabbed her wrist to stop him from knocking at his face, also using it as leverage to pull her on top of him. She quickly put her hands on the bed, on either side of his face, careful not to wound him any further than he already is.

"You're such a nuisance, running that pretty little mouth." If it was possible, her cheeks grew even redder at that statement, "w-well! You're at fault here! Always commenting on anything I do! Then throwing yourself in front of me?! Do you think I'm weak?! Is that it! That's what you think, right?!" She leaned in closer to him, their noses touching as her voice grew louder by the second.

The thought of him thinking she's weak upset her.

Didn't she show how capable she was?

What more could she do?

"That's not it, it's-" but she cut him off, like she did too often. "Then tell me! Why do you mock me? Make fun of me everyday? Think I can't protect myself? Why are you pulling at my heartstrings! It hurts, you know?!"

He was right.

She ran her mouth too often. And he had to shut her up by putting his hand on the back of her head– at least he tried to with the pain shooting through his entire body and pushing his mouth into hers. Sharing a kiss as the sun illuminated their faces.

Let me know what you thought with a comment! <3 thank you sm for reading!

#chaethewriter #roronoa zoro #zoro #zoro x reader #zoro roronoa x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro roronoa #one piece #opla #one piece live action #one piece x reader #opla x reader #one piece zoro x reader #one piece zoro

[static-sulker]

I might maybe possibly be thinking of a modern fantasy apartment AU with the main crew. All of them being stupid ass magical roommates without tadpoles...Just letting them be happy.

Also my Tav is in there because...yeah. His name is Silk and he is such a silly guy ridden with the 'tism. Drow Warlock who sees the good in everything... Such a...A yeah...

Little notes i've been conjuring about this...

Gale and Wyll made a chore chart in the kitchen, with little magnets for each person. Astarion regularly will switch his magnet in the middle of the night just so he doesn't have to do the fucking dishes and EVERYBODY knows besides Gale and Wyll. Wyll is on the fence about it, but Gale wholeheartedly believes when Astarion lies through his teeth about never having done it.

Karlach and Halsin go on grocery runs in the mornings. Karlach goes for the running part, while Halsin comes along for the run as well as to stop Karlach from buying the most horrendous shit. The one time she went alone very early in the houses lifespan, Karlach bought like 3 bags of go-gurt, about 50 dollars worth of cheap booze, and a big piece of raw steak to cook. She burnt said steak. But she's trying now, at least.

The team will take turns every now and then to get Astarion blood from themselves as it gives Astarion a lot more energy then normal settling blood. BUT they do have "blood bags" that they set up in the kitchen fridge whenever they know nobody with the right blood is gonna be available to give him blood if he needs it. They TOTALLY get it by legal means and it TOTALLY doesn't melt Astarions heart that they try so hard to help him.

Silk finds a stray dog in the alleys of their building one day when they went out to work (they do freelance art with their magic for like startups, it's fun). After casting "speak with animals" they find out this dog, Scratch, is waiting for his owner to return. His owner was killed out by some gnoll gang downtown. When they come back from work later in the evening, they find Scratch again, still waiting. Long story short, Silk adopts scratch in their very strict "no pets" rule of an apartment. And don't get me STARTED on the owlbear cub. Lae'zel and Halsin were out, originally to get some spare lightbulbs and tools for the apartment and find the little critter getting chase by some goblins in some backalley parking lot. Lae'zel plans to ignore the thing, but Halsin assists the cub. Once done, they plan to leave, before the cub begins to follow them home. Halsin names the cub "Vauva" and Lae'zel soon becomes SO attached.

They have presentation nights, where everybody makes slideshows about literally anything. Last week, Gale made one about the conflicts of archmages and the idea of apprentices. Karlach then made a tier list on the worst monsters ever documented, Lae'zel helped with that one. Shadowheart made this whole discussion over her favorite and least favorite teas (she fuckin' hates green tea for like no reason). Wyll made one on Baldurs Gate history. Astarion made a smash or pass list of all of the political leaders in Baldurs Gate. Silk made a presentation on the weirdest underdark myths and rumors they have heard on their time above ground. Halsin presented (well more like persuaded) on getting a new herb for their kitchens row of herbs and spices set on the windowsill. They have too many and he got like 5 minutes of stand time before Karlach kicked him off.

Lae'zel hate-cleans when shes mad at somebody in the apartment. Basically, she cleans every room in the entire fucking apartment BESIDES any of said "victims" parts of the house. One time, she got into a fight with Shadowheart and threw all of the dirty laundry she had so carefully put into the laundry room back into her room just all over the fucking place. If shes calm though, the house is normally fairly clean under her and Wyll's watch. It's one of the only things they agree on.

Because every bg3 piece of content I make loops back to bloodweave, I think they would have a little reading time together. Like whenever everybody is settling down for the night and they are up for it, they take this lovely window seat couch/bed thing in Gales room and just take out a good bottle of wine and a book for each of them and just read until late. They originally did this separately, but when the two find themselves both in the living room at 2 in the morning reading, they decide in silent agreement to make it routine. They sometimes read in silence, other times just talking absently about anything. Shadowheart finds out first by coming in to Gales room late one night to return a book he lent to her to find the two both passed out, tucked away in the window, books still in hand before they accidentally passed out. Shadowheart then teases them with photos the morning after.

Karlach and Lae'zel both do these really intense shadowboxing exercises in Karlachs room whenever the two have freetime and enough energy to go through with it. It's a heated bitter rivalry in the eyes of the githyanki, but Karlach just loves a little workout with her friend! Lae'zel does enjoy the workouts, as she doesn't get many options to really let off ALL of her steam, even if she works at a gym as a personal trainer. She is constantly told shes a bit TOO rough with the clients so she has to "tone it down". So it's nice.

Astarion and Shadowheart have girls nights. Like they paint each others nails and watch like twilight together (ironically they get so heated at how wrong they get it. "Just another human writer writing about shit she doesn't get" is used a lot in their rewatches). They also talk about like...their feelings. But it's very sparse and done so by a copious amount of wine (wine with a heavy amount of blood on the side for Astarion). Both of them never got to have moments like this in their childhoods, of just pure calmness and domestic childhood enjoyment, so they make due with what they can.

BY THE HELLS I JUST REALIZED I WROTE THIS MUCH. DAMN OKAY.

#baldurs gate three #baldurs gate au #bg3 modern fantasy au #origins apartment #bg3 astarion #bg3 karlach #bg3 gale #bg3 wyll #bg3 lae'zel #bg3 halsin #bg3 shadowheart #astarion ancunin #gale dekarios #karlach cliffgate #shadowheart #lae'zel #wyll ravengard #halsin #bloodweave #can you see im crazy about this?

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

Pt. 1 | Pt. 2 | Pt. 3 | Pt. 4

Secret admirer part 5!!

This one really got away from me, but I hope you like it! Also, I lied, there will be one last part :) I had planned on this being a 5+1, so I’m glad it worked out to be that way!

Now Eddie is just waiting to see what Steve tries next. Just sitting back and reveling in the fact that King Steve “The Hair” Harrington, first of his name, mom of six or seven gremlins at a time, wants town Freak Eddie “The Banished” Munson.. and apparently has for a while too.

Life goes on like normal, but now every time Eddie sees Steve after finding out he was his secret admirer, he can’t help but smile a bit bigger.

He also confronts Robin, “You knew didn’t you?”

“Knew what?”

“Don’t play that shit with me; you knew it was Steve.”

“Oh. Yeah. Of course I did.”

“You told me to unpack tapes on purpose so I’d see his handwriting and figure it out.” It was a statement, not a question.

“I also wanted the tapes unpacked. Duh.”

“Ugh you’re the worst. I can’t believe I’m chauffeuring you to Casa de Harrington, of my own volition, on MY precious Thursday off.”

Robin rolls her eyes “You aren’t complaining about chauffeuring Max.”

“Well yeah, cause it isn’t out of my way to get her.” Eddie gestures toward Max and that gets her attention.

She takes her headphones off her head. “What are you guys arguing about?” She asks irritated, “And what’s it got to do with me?”

“Nothing Max, I’m just giving Eddie a hard time about his big sappy crush.”

“Oh, you mean the one he has on Steve?”

Robin and Eddie both freeze.

“Wh—Who said it was Steve.” Eddie asks, voice flat.

“No one had to say anything; there is a reason why we call you both mom and dad. You aren’t subtle about it. DAD.” Max snarks back at him.

‘We. She said ‘We’. As in The Party has been calling me that.’ Eddie thinks. So that wasn’t just Steve trying to make him feel better that day on the phone.. They actually see him as a dad. ‘Well maybe; maybe it was just as a counter to Steve’s ‘Mom’. Why would they even see you as a role model?’

Fuck! He needs to stop his spiraling now. Otherwise he’s going to get in a mood and Steve will notice, and somehow think it was his fault and worry about him, and then no one will be having fun anymore an_ ‘What the fuck dude, you literally just told yourself to STOP. SPIRALING. and now you are doing exactly that.’

“Well then who am I??” Robin asks, putting on a fake offended tone to break the leftover tension.

“Hmmmm…” Max pushes her new glasses back up her nose “You’re like a kooky Uncle.”

“Uncle??” Robin actually sounds offended this time. “No, actually, that makes sense.”

Eddie chuckled at the acceptance of her new role, the storm that was whirling around in his head starting to dull. “Now was this a party decision, or is that just you, Mayfield?”

“Just me for now. I will make sure to plant the idea in Dustin’s head when we get there and I’m sure he’ll call a Meeting with the Council of Doofuses to get it in writing.” And with that, the headphones were back on.

Eddie and Robin share a look, and before much longer they are pulling into Steve’s driveway.

“God, I don’t think I will ever get over how dumb this house actually looks.” Eddie looked over at Robin curiously as she continued to berate Steve’s house while collecting her things, “It looks like whoever built it back in the 70s or some shit had no taste, even by that decade’s standards.”

“Buckley. You’re telling me that this whole time I’ve known you, we could’ve been making fun of these Loch Nora snobs’ houses.. together? I don’t think I will ever forgive you for this discretion.”

This earns Eddie another eye roll from Robin (and a muttered “You and your goddamn dramatics..”) as they both get out of the cab. Max is long gone, Steve’s front door standing open in her wake.

“So how did your sleepover go with Vickie anyway? You didn’t say anything about it..?” Eddie asks as he grabs his bag from the back.

“It was literally just a sleepover.. I thought the vibes were there but she wanted to talk about her jerk ex-boyfriend and about boys I like. By the way, I have an embarrassing crush on you, don’t tell anyone.”

Eddie laughed so loud, Steve’s neighbors must’ve heard him (no matter how far away the next house may be). “Damn, I’m sorry Buckley. I’m sure that Eddie guy will return your affections eventually.” Eddie joked, patting Robin of the shoulder as they stepped through Steve’s front door.

There were bags all over the entryway, and from the screams filtering down the hall from the sliding glass door, all the kids were outside and in the pool already.

Eddie kicked the door closed behind him and Steve peeked his head around the corner from the kitchen at the sound.

“Oh hey guys, just put your stuff wherever, everyone else is outside, and I’m getting the burgers ready to put on the grill. Robin, will you show Eddie where he can change?”

Eddie looked over when Steve said his name, pulling his attention back from looking at the boring interior of Steve’s house. Had he never been here before? No, not even at one of the old King Steve’s parties..

“How’s he never been over before? That’s so weird.” Robin said as she walked down the hall, waving at Eddie to follow.

“Buckley, get out of my head. I thought you were only supposed to have that weird mind-reading thing going on with Stevie.” Eddie chided her as he followed her to a small bathroom off the laundry room.

“You’re just jealous you can’t read his mind; maybe then you both would’ve gotten your heads out your asses sooner.”

Eddie rolled his eyes and closed the door on her smirking face. Setting his pack down on the small sink counter, he started to change.

“Fuck, I don’t want to do this.” Eddie whispered to himself. He wasn’t exactly a shy person normally, but that’s what all his layers are for.. a pool party automatically called for only about two thin layers, max. And now he had the added concern about his new (admittedly metal) scars that have only just healed all the way. Scars that not only stretched the length of his sides, but those damn bats had gotten to his face and literally took his whole left nipple off. Again, metal, but also gave Eddie about 10 or 11 times more insecure feelings that he hadn’t yet learned to cover completely under his perfectly crafted bravado.

Leaving his briefs on under his trunks, and pulling his faded Metallica shirt back on over the bumpy red scars, he packed his other layers into his bag for later and headed back out to the kitchen.

He nearly crashed into Steve as he was coming out of the laundry room and Steve was passing by with a plate piled high with patties in one hand, a six pack in the other, and bag of buns hanging out of his mouth.

“Oh shoot-- Hey, you need some help?” Eddie automatically reached for the bag of buns so Steve could answer.

“Robin already went outside to claim a chair, can you take this too?” Steve handed Eddie the six pack.

“No problem, Stevie.” Eddie smiled at him and started out the door in front of Steve.

“Thanks Eds.” *SMACK*

Silence.

“Oh. My. God. Eddie, I am so so sorry, it was just a reflex I swear! Even ask Lucas, it’s a sports thing, I didn’t mean anything by it..” Steve sounded completely stressed.

Eddie took a moment longer to process the fact that Steve Harrington just smacked his ass (reflex or not), before turning back to him halfway. Looking over at Steve, Eddie’s heart clenched to see him looking absolutely mortified.

“No worries big boy, I just didn’t realize that was on the table.” Eddie said, giving him a wink, then hurrying out of the house. He had to get out of there before he did something really embarrassing like dropping everything and jumping Steve’s bones at noon on a Thursday while there was a whole hoard of children nearby.

He stepped outside to various greetings of “Hey Eddie!” the most enthusiastic of which was Dustin, who had leapt from the pool to give a still dry Eddie a completely soaking wet hug around his middle.

“Hey Dusty-buns how ar--HOLY FUCK YOU’RE COLD! gET OFF ME!”

Dustin laughed at Eddie’s misery before jumping back into the pool (almost on top of Mike, who kicked away at the last second).

“Let me help with that, sweetheart.” Eddie heard Steve’s voice in his ear as he came up from behind him to grab the bag and six-pack from him and placing them on the table next to the grill with his burgers and the added plate of toppings he must’ve grabbed.

Sweetheart?? That was new...and most certainly did NOT make Eddie want to melt into a puddle, thank you very much.

Eddie knew he now looked completely sunburnt, despite just stepping outside a whole 30 seconds ago.

‘Ok, that’s how you want to play it, Harrington? First an ass smack, and now this??’ Eddie thought to himself. Time to crank up the flirting.

Eddie turned heel and marched back inside and directly to the freezer. He knew he had to have some in here somewhere, they are one of Dustin’s favorites.

‘Perfect.’ Eddie thought as he grabbed a cherry flavored popsicle, unwrapping it, and stepping back outside, grabbing a bottle of sunscreen as he went.

“Hey Stevie, can you help me out with this before your hands get all nasty?”

—————

“Yeah sure Eddie, what do you ne__” Steve turned around from starting the grill to face Eddie at his question. ‘Fucking hell, Munson.’

Eddie was staring at him with those damn doe eyes, holding out the bottle of sunscreen in one hand, and had a cherry-red popsicle held in the other. His already red lips wrapped around the end. ‘When’d he get that??’

Steve cleared his throat and took the bottle from him “Yeah of course, turn around.”

Eddie flashed that megawatt grin at him “Thanks sweetheart.” Steve felt his cheeks turning pink at that.

Eddie turned to face away from Steve, the hand that previously held the bottle coming up between his shoulder blades to pull his shirt over his head. 

Steve noticed that Eddie didn’t pull the shirt all the way off his arms, just pulled it up and over his head so his head and back were free. A pang shot through his stomach at that ‘Of course he’s going to be self-conscious about his scars, fuck why did you think a pool party was a good idea?? Okay focus, just make sure to say something to him later on about them_oh fucking HELL’

Steve’s his train of thought imploded when Eddie decided to glance over his shoulder at Steve as he pulled his hair over the other with his free hand.

“This is going to be cold, sorry Eds.” How he had kept his voice sounding completely normal was a mystery to Steve, but now he had to focus on the fact that he’d be rubbing his hands all over Eddie.

He started at the small of Eddie’s back. Pushing the heels of his palms outward from Eddie’s spine where his fingers could come to a rest (however briefly) on either side of the older man’s waist and giving a slight squeeze.

Eddie’s breath hitched and Steve saw the blush bloom under the skin at the back of his neck. Deciding to ignore that (for now) Steve said “I told you it was going to be cold.”

“Shut up, Steve, it still caught me off guard.”

Steve chuckled and continued rubbing the lotion in, making sure to do a good job at covering every inch. Not just because he was loving being able to freely touch Eddie like this, but legitimately because he didn’t want Eddie to burn to a crisp.

He got up to Eddie’s shoulders and found some of his hair had slipped from the rest. Using a single finger, Steve brushed the stray lock from where it started behind Eddie’s ear, down across his neck and over the other shoulder. Eddie visibly shuddered and Steve smiled, “Sorry, your hair was in the way. We need to get you a hair tie.”

Finished with his back, Steve tapped Eddie on the shoulder, “OK you’re all good back here, do you want me to get your front too or have you got it covered?” giving the full King Steve smirk as Eddie turned back to face him causing him to blush more.

“I_I’ve got it.” Eddie stuttered, taking back the bottle.

How Steve managed to wrench his gaze from Eddie’s popsicle-red pout, he had no clue. “You might want to get your face done sooner than later, you’re already turning red.” Steve winked at a spluttering Eddie before turning back to the grill.

Eddie started grumbling behind him and Steve heard the rustle of fabric, assuming Eddie had fully removed his shirt now. 

Glancing over his shoulder, Steve could see that Eddie was turned to face away from everyone else as he applied the sunscreen.

That pang went through Steve again, this time closer to his heart. He turned to Eddie again and came to his side so he could speak to him quietly “Hey, I know you probably don’t want everyone to see, but just know that no one here will give you shit for any of them. Or if they do, they’ll have to deal with me.” 

Eddie had froze when Steve came up to him, but then tuned his face to look at him properly.

That same damn pang shot directly through Steve’s heart this time at Eddie’s big, lovely, eyes shining with unshed tears.

“Put your shirt back on if you need to, but if you want to leave it off, make sure to put extra lotion on the scars themselves..I made sure I did on the parts I could reach from your back.”

Eddie looked even more like he was going to cry now, but smiled gratefully at Steve and nodded. Steve smiled at him softy and went back to the grill to actually get food started for everyone. 

And if he did notice that Eddie went back to his own sunchair, sans shirt, no he didn’t.

—————

Eddie had just barely sat down when Robin leaned over to him from her chair next to him “What in the actual hell was all that?”

“No idea what you’re talking about Robs.” Eddie said nonchalantly, laying back all the way in his chair.

“Uncle Robin, will you help me re-do my braids?” Max yelled from the other side of the pool before Robin could grill him any further.

‘Thank you Max’ Eddie thought. And just like Max had said he would, Dustin’s head whipped around to look at Robin who was already making room in front of her for Max to sit while she braided. 

Eddie watched as Dustin scrambled out of the pool and up to Steve “Steve, do you have a pad of paper and a pen or something?”

“Wh_what? Uh, yeah there should be one in the kitchen. The third drawer down from the phone? Wait! Dry off a bit otherwise you’ll slip on the tile.”

Dustin rolled his eyes and mumbled a “Yes, mom.” under his breath as he walked over to the pile of towels. He grabbed one off the top, barely dusted himself off with it, and dropped it on the concrete before hurrying into the house, still soaking wet. 

Eddie heard a small ‘Oh shit’ from Dustin that he could only assume meant he had slipped a bit on the tile like Steve said he would.

Dustin came back out in no time at all and called the rest of the goblins over to a small patio table on the other side of the pool. As soon as Max’s braids were done, she too went to the table, sidling up between Lucas and Eleven.

Dustin’s hand looked a blur as he would scribble something down to one thing someone said, then crossing other things out to a differnt comment. Eddie chuckled at the sight and leaned back again, closing his eyes.

After a bit, Steve walked over from the grill and sat at the end of Eddie’s chair, scooting his legs out of the way with his ass and grabbing a beer from the nearby cooler.

“You need more room for that thing, Harrington?” Eddie snarked, poking Steve’s hip with his foot before closing his eyes to the sun again.

“You need a new popsicle?” Steve flicked the end of the popsicle stick that was still hanging out of Eddie’s mouth.

“You just liked seeing me with something in my mouth.”

There was a pause, and Eddie felt the chair shift as Steve stood back up. He opened his eyes slightly when he felt the shade of Steve leaning over him. Steve’s face was right next to his, his mouth close to Eddie’s ear “And what if I did?”

‘Jesus H. Christ’ was Eddie’s only thought as he watched Steve(’s ass) walk back over to the grill.

Eddie had a bit of time to calm down after that when Steve yelled for everyone to come grab food, deciding to steer clear while the gremlins descended upon the feast and watch Steve ‘Mom’ over them all. “Grab napkins, Lucas”. “Mike put at least some lettuce on those, you need veggies too!”, “Dustin, cool it with the ketchup.”

That’s it. That was the last straw. Eddie’s in love. 

‘Fucking hell.’ Eddie shot up from where he was laying and sat at the end of the chair instead. ‘Fucking hell..’ Eddie stood up and started pacing.

Every thought he’d ever had about Steve Harrington whipped through his mind like a hurricane. Every time he thought Steve was cute back in high school, the one (1) time he saw Steve in his Scoops Ahoy outfit before he vowed to never return to Starcourt, every time he was confused at seeing King Steve being the one there to pick up the Hellfire kids after their sessions, Steve’s reaction to being manhandled into the wall of Reefer Rick’s boathouse, his willingness to follow the kids there in the first place to come help Eddie of all people, insisting on being the one to dive into Lover’s Lake so the others didn’t have to (him stripping off his sweater when he did and tossing it to Eddie when Nancy was right there ogling him too), the sight of him sweaty, dirty and bleeding in the upside-down that Eddie just needed to get covered up before he’d lose his mind (again), then realizing his mistake too late when he now had to look at Steve in his battle vest, swearing he was catching Steve looking at his lips in the same hellscape, Steve carrying him out of there when they were successful but hadn’t all went too well for Eddie, Steve being there in the hospital when he woke up spouting off to Robin about ‘If Steve were gay, do you think he’d fuck me?’ (’...Eddie, I’m Bisexual.’ ‘Oh sweet! I can only write with my right hand..’), and then, fuck, now knowing that Steve was the one leaving him these sappy notes just because he thought Eddie looked hot in the School play? Being a mom to all these kids that didn’t get time to be kids until now?

Eddie was gone. And probably had been for a while.

By the time he came down from his spiral, he was halfway though a burger that somehow materialized in his hand.

“The fuck?” Eddie looked to Robin, Nancy, and Steve.

Steve sat up from where he was laying, already back in his own chair, empty plate sat on his leg, “Oh, uhm, you seemed to be out of it when I told you to come grab food so I tried handing you something so I’d know you’d eat. You took it and started eating so I figured you were OK.”

Eddie looked from Steve disbelievingly, to Robin disbelievingly. Then back to Steve. “Th_thanks Steve.”

“No worries, Eds.”

Eddie sat back down on the end of his chair and finished his burger, his mind adding this to his list of reasons to love Steve Harrington.

Dustin had stopped scribbling furiously on the lended pad of paper by now, and Eddie called out to him to get him to share, hoping to get his mood back on track.

“Dustybuns, what have you all been doing over there this whole time??” Dustin looks at Eddie, then back at the rest of the Council of Doofuses, then back to Eddie before they all approach the older teens laying out on Steve’s patio furniture.

Max and El came over with them too (even Erica), from where they had assuredly been watching the chaos unfold from their own sunchair. The boys were now almost bone dry. That’s how long they’d been going at this.

“We’ve had to add in a couple people to The Party Family Tree.”

“Oh yeah? Whatcha got?” Eddie says at the same time Steve says “Oh god, here we go..”

Dustin clears his throat, “OK so we start with Steve as the Mom. Obviously.”

Steve’s sat up on his lounger now, and hangs his head into his hands at that.

“Sure.” Robin affirms for the rest of them, encouraging Dustin to continue and ignoring the miserable noise Steve makes.

“Eddie is the dad.” 

“Awe, Stevie!” Eddie places his hand over his heart, “Wait, when’s our anniversary?”

"You haven’t proposed yet.” Steve says into his hands.

“ANYWAY.” Dustin sounds loudly “So Steve and Eddie are the mom and dad. Robin is our Uncle on Steve’s side, Nancy is our Aunt on Eddie’s side.”

“Wait, what? Eddie laughs and looks over at Nancy who is trying to hold back her laughter behind her hand.”

“Yeah, and Hopper is Steve’s dad so I guess he’s our Grandpa.” Steve’s head snaps up at that.

“He’s old and crotchety enough.” Mike chimes in, shrugging.

“I am Jane Hopper so I am Steve’s sister now.” El says carefully, like she is remembering exactly how families work exactly.

Steve looks like he’s trying not to cry, looking at El with a small smile.

“What about Jonathan?” Robin asks, getting into it fully at this point.

Eddie could almost feel the weirdness hit Steve and Nancy at that, like a foot of snow falling all at once.

“He’s Steve’s oldest.” Dustin states matter-of-factly.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Yeah. He’s your oldest son; you had him way too young and he has already moved out.”

“He’s a little distant, but you know he’s happy out in Cali with his boyfriend and you see him on the holidays.” Will tells Steve, smiling brightly as the other kids laugh.

Steve, Eddie, and Nancy are honestly dumbfounded at the web they’ve woven around Mama Steve; Robin is absolutely delighted to find out about Steve’s firstborn. (”Who’s the baby daddy?” she asks him, getting a loud smack on her arm for it.)

Everyone’s waiting for Steve to say something. 

He stands up, turns to face his brood, and opens his arms wide in invitation. They all crowd in around him and the mask drops off his face as he finally lets the tears start flowing.

Robin and Eddie glance at each other before throwing themselves around their hoard, Nancy coming up to Robin’s side.

“I love you guys.” Steve says, his voice thick.

After a good long moment, Mike pipes up from somewhere toward the middle of the pack “Okay this is great but it’s still a million degrees outside and somehow I ended up in the middle of this furnace.” 

They all chuckle and separate from each other, some wiping tears away with their hands and others (Mike, Max, Erica) jumping back into the pool to disguise how wet their face may or may not have gotten.

Still wiping his tears away, Steve yells at them to “Dammit get back out so you can put more sunscreen on!” to choruses of “Yes, mom.” and more laughing.

“...So if Stevie and I get divorced, who gets which kids?” Eddie asks, and immediately has to start dodging Steve’s attempts to tackle him into the pool.

Dustin picks up the pad of paper and flips to a new page as the rest of them start yelling at him who they’d want to “stay” with.

----------

A few hours later it’s getting cooler, a sign of the fall to come. Steve manages to coax everyone back inside with the promise of pizza and movies.

Eddie and Robin had gone in before the rest of the kids to get changed and start piling pillows, blankets, and even a couple mattresses onto the floor of the living room. Pulling everything out before the rest came in and started getting changed. Eddie is the first to plop down on the massive floor bed, right in the middle.

Robin fell back onto the couch that was now an acting headboard, “So, any more news on the secret admirer front?” she asks, nudging him with her foot.

“Boy do I have a story for you, Robs.” Eddie grinned.

“You mean about your latest rose?” Max came into the room with El, piling themselves on Steve’s armchair with the fluffiest blanket in the pile.

“The one exactly, Red.”

“Ok good, then I can Ignore you for the next two hours.”

Eddie threw a pillow at her head at that.

“Max was there when you found it?” This time it was Will and Mike coming in with their bags of snacks and finding a spot to lay out.

“Actually, she was there when the guy left the rose.” Max said from the chair.

There was a clatter from the kitchen, then Dustin came barreling in from where he was helping Steve with dishes. “So you know who it is??” he asked Max

“No doofus, Eddie was with me when the guy left the rose at Eddie’s trailer.”

Another clatter from the kitchen.

“You OK Steve?” Robin asked.

“Peachy.” he called back.

“Wait, so you guys saw him leave it? So you know who it is??” Dustin continued.

Lucas came down the steps then, Max’s walkman in his hand. He handed it to her before getting comfy in front of the girls’ chair. Erica following and squishing herself into the corner of the loveseat.

“We saw him, but couldn’t tell who it was.”

“So here’s the thing,” Eddie starts “I was with Max that night while her mom was at work, my uncle was at his shift, AND my van was in the shop. My trailer was dark and both cars were gone. Of course he’d think it was safe to be a bit bolder and leave this one right at my doorstep.”

Being met with ‘Ahs’ of understanding, Eddie continued: “But what he must not know is that trailer walls are thin, and I know what the gravel outside my place, and that second squeaky step on the porch sound like when someone walks on 'em. So when we heard it from Max’s living room, we looked out to make sure it wasn’t some person trying to vandalize my shit again.”

Steve had come into the room and leaned against the doorframe a bit earlier, dishtowel thrown over his shoulder, and now looked like a deer caught in the headlights. ‘Gotcha.’ Eddie thought.

"But alas, the night was dark, and we could barely make out a figure before whoever it was ran off into the night.” Eddie waggled his fingers like he was telling a scary story

“They walked to your house??” Dustin asked

“No dipshit, they probably didn’t want to be recognized by their car” Mike shot back.

“Who has that recognizable of a car?” came Will’s small voice

“Besides Steve? I don’t know.” Erica chimes in

“Me??” Steve asked, actually confused

“Yeah Steve, everyone knows your beemer.” Dustin said, rolling his eyes.

“So when I went back home, the rose was there.” Eddie pulled it out of his inner jacket pocket. “This one says “Think of all the things We've shared and seen, Don't think about the way things might have been” Eddie sings the line.

“Wow, your voice is really pretty Eddie.” Eleven says, breaking the silence that followed.

“Thanks, supergirl.”

“Eddie those lyrics have to be a clue” Dustin says, always the analyzer

Eddie makes eye contact with Steve from across the room and smiles fondly.

“I know.”

_______________________________

Pt. 6 will be here!

Now on AO3! Several Notes of the Most Amiable Nature

Thank you to @lunaraindrop and @starkdusk for being the first ones to encourage my ‘Steve is a jock and would smack Eddie’s ass accidentally’ brainrot 🥰

Tagging everyone I can!!: @allbymyselfexceptformycactus @cutiecusp @lilfroggies @panicatthediaz @bigboyandmetalhead @pluto-pepsi @funnymagicman-named-dandy @cringeisdeadandsoami @minjintea @saramelaniemoon @thegingerrapunzel @lightwoodbanethings @largechaos @kato-hoeven @stevesworldxx @notsopersonalcharlie @estilosexy @original-cypher @gleefully-macabre @disasterlia @imnotsureiexist @blurryjoji @nightmareglitter @deleataecount @withacapitalp @quevadilla @aringofsalt @werewolfpeterparker @lipglossanon @edmunsn @maya-custodios-dionach @straight4joekeery @sideblogofthcentury @iamsotiredman @ladydorian05 @resident-gay-bitch @undreamingscatworld @haluton @tsukiwashere @eddiehashands @wrayofmoonshine @2btheanswertothequestion @a-bun-danceoflove @xstevex-world @infinityonsighhh @buttonupintoblue @lallagoupsidedown @homeofthepeculiar @nightmareglitter

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #secret admirer #secret admirer au #mine #st #st ficlet #stranger things #stranger things ficlet #steveddie #steve x eddie #1000

[lakesparkles]

hii!!! would you be willing to do a little doodle of your nega ramona and gideon interacting? understandable if you don't take requests I'm just in LOVE with your design of her and your au in general!!! feel free to also use this ask to elaborate about the au more instead because id love to hear that too :D

Hi!! :D

Honestly, I wasn't going to draw this request today (I'm afraid I'm drawing Gideon too much lately lmao sorry, he just can't leave my mind). But I got some pretty weird comments on this AU of mine that made me kinda sad... so I kept rereading this ask to cheer me up and I'm very thankful you like her and this AU!! It really means a lot in this moment!

Now, the important part, yes, I take requests and I love this one:

Just a few things make Gideon feel uneasy. She's one of them. Not because he thinks she might be a ghost, but because she looks too similar to Ramona.

And more about the AU:

I would like to say I finally started writing a fanfiction about it and I'm close to finish the first chapter ^^

It'll be seven chapters long and it'll be hard to write ngl, I never wrote something like this before, usually my fics are cute ship things.

I can share the first scene:

Ramona and Gideon - I . . . She decides to leave one last time Or

Ramona remembers the seven reasons that made her fall in love with Gideon

She had that same fantasy every day. As she walked down the halls, running her fingers along the wall, she imagined herself entering her own room. It was satisfying, somehow. She could perfectly see herself opening her wardrobe, taking out the few things that really interested her, putting everything in her bag and simply walking away. In that fantasy, of course, she always smiled. She even laughed. That kind of hysterical and cathartic laughter only present in films. She wanted to imagine how Gideon would react: how long would it be before he realized she wasn't there anymore? Two weeks? And when would he realize that this wasn't just another one of her "famous tantrums"? Two months? Two years? Part of her was almost excited at the prospect of making him furious with such an accomplishment. It would be his turn to take endless turns through the halls, finally using his brain to try to understand what had gone so wrong between them. Maybe he would find out years later. Or perhaps that doubt would eat away at him for decades to come, the bitterness of her image never leaving his mind. And part of her… thought that wasn't realistic. She knew Gideon well enough to know that he would never even consider any mistake on his part, with a mixture of confusion that never ended well when it came to him. Or worst. He wouldn't even care about her lack of presence in that house. Therefore, Ramona released her fingers from the wall, slowly slowing down her steps until she stopped altogether. Then the fantasy ended. Every single time.

#ask tag #// suggestive #gideon graves #ramona flowers #nega ramona #scott pilgrim #scott pilgrim vs the world #this answer is looong #my writing #ramona and gideon AU #<- temporary name